Spring 2005 TOA Round 1 - Quistis v. Malevolence

[LocoColt04]

I apologize for the bluntness of the description ahead, but I've got much larger things on my mind. You might not see much of me in the near future, so... yeah. Possibility of cancer = way fucking uncool. I'm just going to list off some things for you to take note of, and then I'll leave the rest up to your creativity.

• The tournament takes place in a modern setting (any of you who don't know that by now should be shot), in a very large field. Some of the grass is alive, but most is dead or dying. The area is obviously unkept.
• Vincent, my character, has mowed out a large section of the field. It's rectangular in shape, and the total area is little over half an acre.
• Within this rectangle, Vincent has chalked out a rounded boundary, moreso oval in shape. Any character who walks, gets shoved, or falls out of bounds loses points. (This doesn't affect ACTUAL judging... much. It's moreso for story purposes.)
• On one of the longer sides of the oval, facing east, is a set of hand-crafted bleachers for the spectators. All of the fighters, regardless of wins or losses, will be on the bleachers for this fight. The judges will also be on the bleachers, and perhaps a few random spectators.
• Each fight occurs on a different day, so you don't have to worry about things like time of day or conflicting schedules. What time you choose to fight is up to the first poster.

I leave the rest up to your imaginations. Most importantly, have fun! Just because it's a tournament doesn't mean you can't have a little humor. It's a fight, not a novel. I want to smile when I read it. And trust me... I'm going to need a smile.



edit:
By the way, you deserve to know what I'm looking for from your posts. Extravagant intro posts are wonderful, but consider this for the rest of your thread...

The better writer doesn't win. If you want a true "writing" contest, go set up an RP contest. Here, the writer with the best ideas and creativity wins. The person with the most description doesn't win. Here, the writer with the posts which are easier to follow will triumph.

I'm not saying that your posts should be a paragraph long and be straight to the point. I want some length, and I want some description. I just don't want the overkill that often comes from these tournaments. People run away from the TOA because they think they're judged on novel-writing skills. Well, you're not. Not as long as I'm in charged.

This tournament will focus more on the "B" part of RPB. Use that to your advantage, and have some more creative reign in your posts.

[Malevolence]

Clouds are only a good thing when you’re in the sky. Clouds on the ground…not so much. Taere was veritably blind walking through the mess of morning fog. He’d already tripped over himself at least 5 times on the roots that seemed to reach out to grab him. His knees and lower body were covered in mud from his falls, as the wet morning air had turned the normally dry forest path to loose mud. His boots got stuck as often as he tripped over himself, resulting in a trudging motion that was beginning to make his hips hurt.

“Goddamnit if I hadn’t left that Dragon to his own devices…it’s bloody draconian the way he treats me…”

Taere trudged on, tripping as usual, until he finally got himself into something he couldn’t get out of. As he took another step, the toe of his boot got stuck under a root whose dirt had been undercut by a water flow. He immediately flew forward, and landed flat on his face in the mud. After recovering from the rather embarrassing moment, Taere reached down to his leg – still face down in the mud, as he couldn’t move – and unlatched his boot. He immediately pulled himself forward and turned over, inhaling sharply as he could again breathe. This resulted in his inhaling half-air-half-mud, sending him into a coughing conniption fit until he recovered himself and expunged the offending sludge from his lungs. He set to trying to pull the boot out towards him, but met with little success. He had lodged the boot pretty deep into the root, past one of the toe plates, basically lodging it in immovably. He got up out of the sludge surrounding him, and, dripping sludge, half-walked and half-hopped around to the other side of the root, hesitated, then sat right back down in the mud and began pulling on the boot. Hard.

“For the love of…RELINQUISH MY BOOT, YOU STUPID GODDAMN—”

Taere never finished insulting the inanimate object. Apparently playing a joke on him yet again, the root released his boot, sending Taere flying backwards back into the mud, sending yet another splash of brown up and onto his armor. On the plus side, he had his boot.

“Thank you,” he told the root. He then made a few obscene gestures and swore at the same root. He got up, cleaned himself off as much as he could, and put his boot back on. By the time he actually got himself back together, the fog had thinned a little bit as the sun began to evaporate it to higher altitudes, and he could see only slightly more clearly. On the other hand, he saw a large field of dead and dying short foliage ahead, which seemed familiar. Then he remembered the invitation he received a few weeks ago, in the form of a holo message. He pulled the disc out again, and inserted it into the topaz lens reader on his left gauntlet. The disc began to spin under the lens, and yellow light began to filter through into a holographic figure of a short woman dressed in formal ceremonials. She began to speak:

Congratulations on being selected for participation the Tournament of Arms. Your host, Vincent, will presumably see you shortly, as this message has been dispatched exactly one day before the deadline of response. We will now check your GPRS Location by photon algorithm. Please wait.

“PLEASE WAIT” splashed across the holo message, followed by advancing rows of ellipses, until the algorithm contained on the disc completed its course. It then began to speak again:

Please look ahead. Within 20 feet to GPRS heading SSE 275.55° you should see a field marked with chalk lines. Enter the field, and await your opponent please. Your opponent for this match is named Roma {..::ERROR – NAME DATA INCOMPLETE::..}. Thank you for your cooperation, and good luck.


The message ended. Taere couldn’t do much but follow the directions. He walked the 20 feet ahead onto the field, pulled the now blank hilt of the Malevolence from his back, and waited for this Roma without a last name to show.


((OOC: Not too good but I'll deal with it. Eh. at least I'm first ))

[Quistis]

The darkness of the night, the shadows of light.
A void of nothingness, of eternal strife
Hold me while we drift away from this world.
In another universe, a new song unfolds.


"That is the lamest and sickest poem I have ever heard Tony!" Sara said in between laughs. Tony laughed with her as well and threw away the piece of paper he just crumpled.

"The gang will surely ridicule us acting like teenagers in love." Tony said as he gently pushed Sara's back against the wall.

"well, we ARE in love." she replied softly. She felt her ears get warm. She was definitely blushing. Tony then kissed Sara passionately and the latter of course returned the favor.

Two people sharing a kiss under the moonlit sky in an empty alleyway. Not an unusual sight in this side of town. But the cloaked woman not very far from them watched quietly, her heart skipped a beat as Tony started exploring Sara's seductive curves. The couple's kiss became even more passionate.

Interesting...I have seen how humans can become intimate this way before but right now I feel...somewhat...affected... the mysterious woman thought as she reluctantly anticipated what was going to happen next.

"Sara, this Asian style dress looks really good on you. But I think I may have to remove it." Tony whispered. Sara felt his tongue flick against her ear and his warm breath brushed against her neck.

"We should probably just go elsewhere. This place is not too..."

"Sanitary? Where's your sense of adventure? " Tony grinned as he started unzipping Sara's dress. But something caught his attention from the corner of his eye. A cloaked figure standing not too far away from them. Tony turned to face the figure. His walk a little bit off thanks to the eight shots of vodka he downed that night. Sara tried to stop him but he continued to confront the lone figure.

"Hey you! What were you looking at? Don't you know who I am? I own this side of town! And you just really pissed me and my girlfriend off" he said cracking his knuckles. The mysterious woman didn't say a thing.

"I am talking to you dumbass!! Why dont you say something? Are you deaf!!?" he said angrily. Sara moved closer to the scene and pulled the arm of her lover.

"Let's just go to my place Tony. We shouldn't waste our time here."

"I am just going to teach this rookie a lesson" Tony said as his fist started to emit a flame aura - a 'gift' he acquired from his ancient ancestors and probably the reason why he was feared by most men. His knuckles stopped midway as a mysterious dark aura enveloped his fist. He cried in agony as the dark void seemed to eat him away slowly -eventually engulfing his body into nothingness. Sara tried to help but later realized that there was nothing she could do for her man. She started running for her life but alas, fate had some other plans...

The cloaked figure summoned what seemed to resemble a dark shard in front of the desperate woman. It shot towards Sara at an incredible speed. The shard pierced through her head, pinning her against the wall. Blood and splattered pieces of what was Sara's brain covered the whole place. The figure moved closer to Sara's lifeless body.

"Tony was too weak. He is not the one am looking for."

Picking up the crumpled paper, the shadow disappeared in the darkness.


-----------------------------------------


Three days later
In a forgotten grassfield that was turned to a battlefield at an area undisclosed to the general public.
The Tournament of Arms - A contest made for the Champions of Champions.


"Man, I love this job. First you get to talk to the greatest fighters in the world. Then, you get to see a lot of hot female contestants. If only they included phone numbers in this form." Darryl said to his colleague James. Both were novice fighters that were assigned to review the combatants' application form for this year's Tournament Of Arms. Although a few elite fighters were given a special invite, Vincent, the event's organizer, opened a few slots for new but qualified fighters. Both men sat in a wooden desk under a tent near the arena's entrance.

"Yeah, I wish we could go training with them. But they reduced the number of participants greatly this time." James commented dryly. His eyes fixed on the form in front of him while taking down notes about the previous applicant.

"Training with which? The greatest fighters or the hot babes?...hey check out this one.." Darryl said nudging James. Both looked at the person who was next in line- a woman with long black hair wearing a black cloak that flowed down to her feet. Darryl cleared his throat and managed to put on his best smile. James on the other hand, shook his head, he knew his friend too well.

"Are you joining Miss...?"

"Roma."


"Miss Roma, so are you joining?"

"Do you really need to ask that question?" she replied. Darryl subtly kicked James in the shin who was trying so hard not to laugh. The woman's voice was low and calm and as if she spoke right to their ear.Strange, since the area was anything but quiet.

"Sorry about that Miss Roma. Do you have the form?" realizing that Roma did not have any piece of paper with her, Darryl took out a blank form and his pen from his shirt pocket then started asking Roma questions to fill up her application.

"Age?"

Roma paused for a second. She did not know how old she was in terms of this dimension's timeline and it would surely freak them out if she said a hundred years or so or start off from when she actually appeared in this world with a physical body. She then saw a man wearing a jersey shirt with a number on it.

"Twenty five"

"When did you start battling?"

"21 days ago."

"uhm..ok..how long did you train?"

"What training?" Roma asked raising her voice a little while her eyes were wandering around, looking at the other would be contestants.

"Pardon me for saying this, but the fighters here are well experienced and very strong. And you've started battling only three weeks ago without training and all that. I personally don't want to see a beauty like you get hurt in there." Darryl explained while motioning his hands towards the makeshift arena- a half acre of grassfield with a white oval marking on it-signifying the boundaries of the battlefield.

"None of your business. Are we done?"

"Just sign here Ma'am." James said quickly while handing over the paper and pen to Roma .After placing her signature,Roma moved on to exploring the tournament area.

"Nice move. The form's still not completely filled up. What's worse -You didn't even ask for her number. And I thought Vincent told us to choose the contestants wisely." Darryl said, scolding James.

"She's a scary one man. I dont know, there's something about that woman that freaks me out. I just don't want to piss her off."

"I know you're the perceptive one between us James with your psychic abilities and all that jazz. But I still think she's hot. I wonder what's she's wearing under that cloak? Hmm...."

"Get to work dumbass or you'll get your butt kicked by Vincent."

"Good point. But you'll get your own ass whoopin' once Vincent finds out that you brought in a noob to this tournament."

"Whatever..."


-------------------


Tournament Proper

And it has begun....


She savored the limited recollection she had of her new life. Her memories got a little bit scrambled since the transformation- all she knew for sure was that she had to kill someone with immense elemental powers. Like a toddler trying to walk, everyday was learning for her. Wasn't for everybody? Before, she was nothing more than the embodiment of hatred and suffering- Of countless souls imprisoned in the realm of darkness.

Roma stood at the other edge of the oval arena. The clearing gave way to the soothing wind around them- sending leaves and flower petals that bloomed in this beautiful spring day. A time of new beginning - a winter's end. Her cloak seemed to dance with the rustling of the leaves that sounded like music to her ears- removing the hood from her head as her long ebony hair flowed with the wind as well. She felt the warmth of the sun against her pale skin as it finally showed itself behind the darkened clouds. The moisture on the grass from the rain glistened like diamonds and her blood red lips savored the taste of fresh air- a sensation so new to her as she never really needed to breathe before. Her beautiful purple eyes stared at her opponent while her hand caught a lone blossom that blew with the wind. She placed the beautiful purple flower near her nose, closing her eyes as she smelled its sweet scent. The five human senses...how stimulating.

Her gaze returned to the man before her as if staring through his soul. Roma gently planted a kiss on the flower before releasing it from her hand. The wind, like having a mind of its own, blew the blossom towards the man as she said

"Such a beautiful day for you to die isn't it?"

[Malevolence]

Shortly after Taere arrived, his opponent with no lineage, Roma, arrived. She seemed to walk right out of the remaining wisps of fog, preceding herself with a cloud of dark bluish-black vapor. This woman was beyond mysterious, wearing what seemed to be nothing more than a cloak. Roam seemed to almost glide rather than walk, much like an ethereal being made of nothing more than mist. Her face was brightly illuminated in the morning glow of the sun, as light shined almost directly into her hood, canceling out the darkened shadows of the dark coif. Her face was beyond pale, as if she had never seen light past a week in her life. Her eyes were similarly albino-like, with pale red circles around dark violet irises – a color so pure Taere thought they might have been amethysts. Oddly, her hair was almost jet black, an odd contrast to her generally pale complexion. She was an anatomical and biological enigma, but as long as she could bleed, Taere didn’t care.

Some sort of clichéd little purple flower floated across the field, and Roma caught it, kissed it, and blew it towards him. Taere chuckled a little out loud, but inside, he was laughing like he just saw a bad 1970’s kung-fu movie.

Is she joking? That might be the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen. She followed the gesture with another cheesy line:

“Such a beautiful day for you to die isn't it?”

He tried keeping as much of his laugh inside as he could, but his diaphragm started to spasm, resulting in Taere bending over a little while trying to restrain a full-on guffaw. After finishing with his little bout of self-humour, Taere got himself back into his fighting spirit. He started to survey Roma for any weapons, but her tight-fitting cloak showed no signs of any scabbards, frogs, hilts, pouches, or any other signs of weaponry or hidden apparatuses that could be used in combat. Taere found this a bit odd in a modern age; even mages carried some kind of weapon – a dagger, a gun, pepperspray, something. Perhaps she was just cocky.

Taere finally responded to Roma’s overconfident comment:

“Sounds like you never get tired of yourself.”

Roma took a good while to respond. After a moment, she said in a soft, but well-projected voice, “I haven’t had enough time to get tired of myself yet.” Taere was, to say the least, a bit confused.

“…Excuse me? I’m sorry, but I have no idea what you mean.”

This time, she responded more quickly: “Twenty-four days isn’t long enough to get tired of yourself.”

This time Taere took too long to respond, finally saying, “Do you mean to say you’ve been alive for only 24 days?”

“I’m not sure ‘alive’ is the right word for what I am.”

“Well, you’ve thoroughly confused me, if that was your objective. But let’s see if you can move.”

Taere moved the still empty hilt of the Malevolence into a stance that would be a standard offensive ready position – if the sword had a blade. As he did so, he twisted the top of the grip in a counter-clockwise direction, letting out audible click and a low continuous hum, followed by the sound of thick bubbling liquid. Liquid bluish crystal began to flow out of the hilt, oozing up itself against gravity. It began to solidify on the bottom even as crystal at the top still flowed, almost growing an erratic blade from the hilt. The blade finally hardened at the tip into an almost 4-foot blade, and Taere immediately changed his stance from a balanced ready to a stance of defensive observation. Roma moved under her cloak, which fanned out around her body as she moved, but never seemed to come apart at the front. She was obviously facing him defensively as well, but with what defense, Taere knew not. She was hard to read; all Taere knew was the fact that her eyes were almost transfixed on him. She seemed to be studying every movement of his joints, as if his gait would tell her his fighting style in great detail. Perhaps she knew something he didn’t.

Regardless of her stares, he decided to go on the offensive, and prepared to make the first move. He decided to start off rather easy, not calling on any ethereal energies to power his blade. Instead, this attack would rely on skill with a blade alone. When facing enigmatic enemies, Taere had learned, it’s best not to use any elements until you know their weaknesses – a proficient mage could take a fire attack and simply douse it, or turn it back on you. So, Taere began to slowly rotate the Malevolence in his right hand, and extended his left arm. At first, a rather standard off-hand blade extended from the gauntlet. As soon as it reached its full length, though, it split down its edge into thin plates that fanned out and locked seamlessly into a small steel buckler shape. Using it as a defensive ram, Taere rushed forwards, with a blade spinning behind him in his left hand. As he reached Roma, Taere made a long slash that changed driction in mid-swing twice – from up to sideways to down from the right just as the blade neared Roma’s body…

((OOC: Better than my last one. Yey.))

[Quistis]

Roma watched as her opponent prepared for his attack while she braced herself by doing a defensive stance. She then noticed that he was holding an empty hilt which later on formed itself into what seemed to be a water crystal sword about four feet long. Another elemental? Perhaps.

This may prove interesting...

Extending his left arm revealing his gauntlet, a thick blade shot out from it. The blade then fanned out as if to create a buckler shield on his forearm. The metal on his arm shimmered in the sunlight, blinding Roma's vision a bit so she placed her hand over her eyes.

Hmm...so obviously this man called Taere isn't the type to take any chances

Now ready to attack, Taere then rushed forward. He moved swiftly despite the metal armor that covered most of his body - a mark of brute strength. As Roma was within his reach, he slashed the blade twice in two directions. She stepped back and the blade caught a huge portion of her cloak,cutting it like paper. Realizing that there was no more use for the extra baggage, Roma removed the cloak revealing what she was wearing: a black tank top and a pair of jeans. Her black leather knee high boots completed the get up. Nothing spectacular but obviously not very appropriate for battling a well-armed mercenary like Taere.

"So that was what you've been hiding under your cloak for so very long. Frankly, I am not impressed." Taere commented. His jet black hair and green eyes spoke of a handsome young mercenary living a carefree life. Roma could sense it within him- a power way beyond his years. Does he even realize it? She wondered.


The darkness of the night, the shadows of light...

As if holding a hilt of a sword in mid air. Roma imitated what seemed to be Taere's initial gesture - A dark void started to form the shape of a hilt and slowly the darkness formed the shape of a sword - looking exactly like a shadow of Taere's weapon. Roma grinned at her advesary as she watched his reaction.

"COPYCAT!!" one of the expectators yelled. A few others followed booing Roma's preparation move. She merely smirked as their complaints fell on deaf ears. The sword appeared to be as weightless as a feather as it was actually made of nothing that could be found in this world and thus, Roma never showed any difficulty wielding it.

"You're missing the buckler lady." Taere smirked sarcastically as he prepared for Roma's next move.

"I don't need it." she replied

Roma then rushed towards Taere. Her speed was extraordinary. It was almost as if she teleported towards his position. She then made a similar double slash that Taere made when he attacked her but this time, small black shards of what appeared to be blades shot out towards Taere at point blank range with each slash.

The blades were merely a portion of the dimension Roma controlled and anything it touches would be temporarily transported to that plane. And in this case, a part of Taere's body or armor getting in contact with it would exhibit a torment similar to a portion of him being teleported miles away in an instant.

[LocoColt04]

Enter Vincent, stage right, ragged and in pain.

Here's your friendly little reminder that the first round is over on the 14th. I'm not sure exactly WHEN on the 14th it'll end, but the threads will be closed. Any posts made up to the time of closing (even if they're technically after the 14th) will still count, so take advantage of the time you're given.

All threads will be re-opened after judging for a "finishing" post, where the winner will be allowed to write a grande finale explaining how he or she won the fight. If you have any intention of killing your opponent, you MUST have their permission beforehand, as many of our writers have some crazy roleplay thing going on with their characters. Of course, if you don't want to kill them, you're more than welcome to maim to your heart's content.

And, on a side note (since I know some of you are wondering), no cancer for Cesar. It's definitely a nerve problem, caused by a fuck-up in my spinal column. Certainly not any more fun than cancer would be, but at least the worst that could come of it is paralysis instead of death. No surgery yet, but we'll see what happens within the next week.

Lalalalalalaaaa... okay, I think I'm done here. Yeah. That's all.

Exuent Vincent, now in wheelchair, stage left.

[LocoColt04]

Wow, what a pair. Talk about a battle of your RP writers, eh?

It was the little things that finally tallied up in this one, so I present to you Malevolence, the winner of this fight. The breakdown:

1 - Malevolence: I love your intros. I'm glad to see you've progressed from your chapter-long intros of days gone by to something more manageable, as well. Your intro was fun to read, though I didn't agree with you on your use of holographic welcome messages. Still, considering your equipment and whatnot, it didn't hurt anything except for the general feeling of your post, as you didn't link it directly to the battlefield set for this fight. You were wise to catch on to the fact that you were invited to the tournament, as opposed to having to apply.

2 - Quistis: You, on the other hand, turned in an application. Jay tells me he got the idea from you (which is why he put it in his post), and you must've just missed the line between actuality and the setting for the tournament. I'll make the same point to you that I made to him -- there is no sign in area, there are no applications. Vincent invited the fighters, so he's going to know who's who. Aside from that, the rest of your post fit the environment rather well... and I got a laugh out of your little softcore pornography scene at the start of your post. Bonus points for making me laugh.

3 - Malevolence: Ignoring the typo (that's not the focus here), I absolutely loved this sentence: "[Roma] seemed to almost glide rather than walk, much like an ethereal being made of nothing more than mist." In that one sentence, you captured an entire paragraph's worth of words. And then you kill the mood with your sarcasm later. You know what? There's no problem with that at all; you've captured the essence of your character in your writing. The paragraph in which you withdraw and form your weapon feels wretchedly slow, but it transitioned smoothly into your attack paragraph. I've always been a fan of your attacks, because they're usually very easy to follow, as you leave nothing to the imagination. I will, however, suggest that you remove the excessive thoughts from the attack itself. For instance, "When facing enigmatic enemies, Taere had learned, it’s best not to use any elements until you know their weaknesses – a proficient mage could take a fire attack and simply douse it, or turn it back on you." seems better suited elsewhere. Place them before the attack in the future, because they really slaughter the feeling of motion that an attack should have. It's like an old kung-fu movie playing in slow motion.

4 - Quistis: First porn, and now you're stripping? I kid, I kid. Good reaction to the attack, and great insight to remove the cloak. Though your repetition of Taere's actions at the start of your post weighed it down a bit, you quickly moved onward to your partial dodge and counterattack. I love your use of the environment, calling attention to the booing spectators, as well as the way you captured the attitude of Taere when you quoted him saying "You're missing the buckler, lady." Clever, witty, and laugh number two. The only thing that really kills it is the actual transportation of matter upon contact. Nowhere in your character's information did I see anything which would have explained that beforehand. Yes, you mentioned the alternate dimension and the weapons created from it, but sending your opponent's physical being to the aforementioned dimension upon contact? Shit, if I were facing you, I'd be sure to dodge every single attack you threw at me. I certainly wouldn't want my left elbow seven dimensions away from the rest of my body.



...VERY skilled writers, both of you, and like I mentioned, it's the little things that made the difference in this fight. Though neither the misinterpreted environment nor the matter-displacing weaponry were enough to warrant a loss alone, the combination of the two solidified the decision.

If you asked me to choose the better writer, I honestly couldn't, and I don't think Psiko could, either. If it were up to me, the two of you would have been in the finals together. I'd love to see you guys pursue a thread on the side over in the RPB forum, because you work really well together. With a little more communcation between the two of you, you could put together one hell of a thread.

That said, this thread is now open for the "kill post." Remember, there is no actual killing of characters unless you get her permission to do so, but I'm more interested in seeing what kind of non-lethal carnage you can inflict.

[Malevolence]

((OOC: Fekk it, I'm doing the kill post. It'll be kinda short, and kinda weird...no death, just very confusing things seeing as I know what Roma is.))

Roma's armour was, to say the least, lacking. Her sword was just as odd, but in a way that seemed to instill a kind of ephemeral fear in Taere's mind, just an odd feeling stabbing into the back of his mind. He had no idea why, but he imagined it had something to do with the fact that his Blacksun Filter was registering a multi-dimensional rift in the vicinity - presumably the sword. Taere smirked; Roma was imitating his style almost to the letter.

A scream of "COPYCAT!!" blurted out from the crowd, which amused Taere. Apparently the crowd was on his side.

"You're missing the buckler," Taere said rather sardonically.

Just as acidic, Roma replied, "I don't need it."

"Suit yourself. Your move."

And move she did. With surprising speed, Roma burst from her foothold in a black cloud of interdimensional ether, making a slash almost exactly the same as the one Taere had made moments ago, but with one slight difference. Taere noticed as her blade moved up to make the slash, shards of black ether sluffed off the edge of the blade, disappearing into the air but still looking rather menacing. Taere then went to meet the slash with his buckler in front of him. As he brought up the metal plates to block the shards and slashes, an odd color shined off the edges of the metal plates - blue and bright red. As soon as the shards of black hit the shield, instead of phasing the material out of existence as Roma may have expected them to, they simply fell apart in a cloud of black ink. Roma looked stunned.

"Never seen chorizite on a shield have you?" The anti-ethereal mineral absorbed the magic energies of the shards, cutting them down to their basic components - black. "My turn," Taere said. He had a smirk on his face the whole time, a sign that usually meant "watch out."

Taere reached behind his back, and pulled a small red fin out of the back of his armour. Attached to the end was a grey ball about the size of a small orange. Taere pulled the fin off the ball with a sharp click, jumped back, and tossed the mirror-finished ball at Roma's feet. A visor drew aross Taere's eyes and ears, and he waited. Roma was visibly confused when the ball did nothing. She looked down, presumably expecting an explosive, which she of course had some defense against. What actually happened wasn't what she expected at all. The ball split open with a blinding flash with the equivalent candle power of a red dwarf, and a loud bang that could be compared to having a gun fired past your eardrum.

In the confusion (both on the crowd's and Roma's parts, as the flash blinded them as well), Taere ran behind Roma, placed his blade under her neck, and placed the buckler by her face.

"Magnesium-thermite flashbang. Fun little trick, right? Now, you do realize that if I touch you with this buckler, you'll probably go back to whatever dimension you came from. Or, you know, you could just blink out of existence. What do you think? Want to find out?"

"Not particularly. I've only been around for 3 weeks, I'd like to stay a bit longer."

"Well, in that case, I have another idea." Taere kept the blade close to Roma's throat, and reached over to his right arm with his left hand, and pulled a large polished topaz out of his right gauntlet. "Tell you what - you go in here, help me out a bit with the rest of this tournament, and then I'll let you out afterwards."

"And what if you die?"

"My armour turns off, and you go free. You get to stay alive, I get a little help. Do we have an accord?"

Roma waited a moment to consider. "I believe we do."

"Good. Now, I'm telling you, this is only the second time I've done this...so this might hurt."

Taere brought the topaz close to Roma, then touched it to her forehead. The moment it touched her skin, she immediately became a translucent cloud of black ink with the Topaz suspended in midair.

"Actually, it doesn't hurt at--AAAGH"

Her form began to twist starting with her head, into a counterclockwise spiral that slowly began to pull itself into the gem, as Roma's muffled scream began to get distorted and fade. Soon, the gem had pulled in most of her substance, and had darkened to a deep bluish-green, almost turquoise color with her essence inside it. As soon as the last bit of ink flowed into the gem, it levitated for a moment, the flew over and snapped back into the right gauntlet of Taere's armour. Inside the gem, Taere could just barely see a shadowy form flip him the bird.

"Yeah, fuck you, too; you're the one that lost."

Taere walked off to find some kind of tree to rest under. Or a bar. He needed a drink.