This is a round 1 battle of the Quad-Alliance RPB Tournament. You may now make an entrance post if you wish. If not then commence the bloodbath! Good luck!
~*~Competitors~*~
Khaeos Drao-Kin
Clan = Kilika 9
Name: Meridian Cervani
Age: 32
Class: Assassin
Build: Large medium build. Tone makes him stronger than he looks.
Hair: Silver, wrapped back in a traditional martial arts style ponytail.
Eyes: Silver
Clothes: Black...always black. Black Gi pants adorn his legs, tightened by a band at the bottom....while a meshed shirt, also black, encompassed his chest. Black guantlets, flash-forged steel and covered with true dragon scale., adorned his wrists...used in blocking weapons on the attack as well as added strength when attacking. Black robes were worn over this, though they may not be worn in more rubbed places. Silver trim adorns the robes, runes...not exactly having any power, follow along the outside. Boots were made of black dragon scale....
Weapons: Main weapon consists of a Dato Katana and a scythe. Four and a half feet long, with long scribes cut into blade telling of his past, of battles....a running account for those worthy enough to defeat him....or...kill him. Extremely sharp, made by his teacher...a legendary swordsmith, it seemed to have a spirit of it's own....having yet met it's match. The scythe is made just like it, by teh same person. Talons made of Dragon scale permanantly adorn his fingers, a rite of passage fixating them to his fingers. Incredibly sharp, he still keeps to his sword skills in combat...using them only in his specialized style of martials arts in hand-to-hand. Leaf-bladed knifes adorn his chest, and waist...18 in all. 6 visible on a strap on his chest, 12 around his waist. These were merely used for fleeing enemies, those two cowardly to face him. Tri-blade, formed into the wings and head of a dragon, lay hidden in the tip of his ponytail....another implement of his martial art style.
Abilities: His martial arts style gives him select abiliies, such as preternatural strength and suprising speed. These are not constant however, and can only be used during the heat of battle...and when the martial art is used. Basic elemental magic, mainly consisting of the elements. His spirit-infested blade is nothing magical, nothing due to it's enourmous size it must allow the blade to pass through any object relentlessly to avoud being useless.
Other abilities/attributes: Due to the rites of passage within his sect, and the symbolic, honorable hand to hand combat with a dragon before being blessed with it's spirit....he as well as heightened senses. The talons become a gift of the Dragon, a symbol of honor and bravery in the face of overbearing life risk. Hearing, sight and smell were more overpowered and heightened than the rest...for the rest were useless. The symbol of his sect, the Drao-kin, lay burned into his arm....as well as the three large scars going across his entire chest from the ritual battle with the Dragon.
Personality: A loner in question, he keeps to himself above all. More adapted to the shadows more out of comfort than necessity, he still greeted anyone to approach amiably and friendly....a gentleman in all cases. Honorable to a fault, he reveres the style of bushido overall....to where an opponent hold shonor above combat and never attacks an opponent's back.
This style has been outdated since ancient times, due mainly to many unhonorable people combating. Quite a qeustionable trait, and one that ties with his honor, is his willingness to challenge his opponent to single combat, without any weapons. Again, a shifting of his training in the art of Drao-Kin, or the Dragons Spirit....a deadly martial art that few master, and even fewer have heard of.
Background: Born in the secluded town of Arkasis, he was raised by the Monks there. Never knowing his father, and even his mother....for she died as soon as he was born, the Monks took them in as their own. Raising them in their select martial art, Drao-Kin, they saw in him the sole hope that they had for their village. Raised honorably, he was prized for his calmness under pressure....which within this martial art was rarely found among those learning. Completing his full trainingg at the age of 19, having spent over 10 years honing himself, he bid good-bye to his new family....and went out to the world as the only honorable assassin. Now having spent over 10 years in his trade, he has a reputation as a strange one....but an assassin who has never missed a mark. His money he sends back to the village, which prospers under his care as the Head Monk has died. Being named in his place...he will do all he can to protect it's honor.....
RPG Level - Veteran.
Lennon Legend
Clan = Kilika 9
Name Sarakon
Age: Actual age Unknown, but has the physical appearance of a 25 year old
Class: Damned Warrior King
Build: Fairly heavy build, Sarakon has a tremendous physical presence but he is still quite agile and fast
Weapons: Sarakon's main weapon is the sword, Heretic, this sword was originally made in the land of mortals, a normal sword there, it served Sarakon well and hundreds of men were slain by it's blade, later on the sword's blade was reforged to strengthen it and the handle and hilt were replaced in their entirety, the new handle and hilt were crafted from the bones of the king Sarakon had once served but had murdered to usurp his throne...and even when Sarakon's story took him into the bowels of hell his blade refused to leave him, as if the lives they'd destroyed had inexplicably bound the two together, man and sword. Indeed there is a relationship between the two, a mutual need, the sword seems to need to kill and tear through the flesh of fresh victims and Sarakon needs the sword's strength. Sarakon discovered that during his time in hell the many souls of the damned grafted themselves to the blade filling it with a pure evil hatred and unholy strength, giving it a personality too, and these twisted souls desire for nothing more than the death of the living. The blade seems to grow stronger with every life it kills and Sarakon can feel the hunger within it for the deaths of the living, the twisted souls of the damned truly resent the living the living, understandable really after their aeons of punishment while the living wander around free in the mortal realm taking their freedom for granted without even the slightest care for these lost accursed souls and just as the souls hunger for death, Sarakon hungers for more power so he'll gladly satiate the appetite of his blade.
Heretic's blade is about one and a half feet thick and about 4 foot long, the sides are parallel for about 3 feet and then it rounds off and tapers to a point, the blade was strong enough before having the souls of the damned attach themselves to it but now the blade seems to contain a great energy, there's not many things it can't penetrate these days.
The sword's hilt is made of the scraggly bones of a dead King, bleached and polished, these various bones stick out in carious directions, ground down to points out the end, like a horrific arrangement of large fangs radiating outwards from a central point. This central point is where the King's skull is situated, his jaws bolted tight and the bone handle rammed in from underneath, the handle is also made of bones, it goes down at a slight s shape, another bone runs along the side to form a D shape, in the recess is where Sarakon hold the sword and where he hooks it onto his back, at the base of the handle a metal gem setting has been rammed into the bone and inside the setting is a burning Sapphire, which emits a dull red glow.
Sarakon also has a large axe he likes to use, this is his secondary weapon, this axe isn't infused with any evil energy, but it's still good for splitting skulls and the like.
The large battle axe's handle is made of thick and gnarled wood, with a metallic base which has been sculpted to have a similar appearance to the hilt of Heretic, this also has a recess in it for hooking onto Sarakon's back.
The blade of the axe is huge, and very heavy, but is fairly brittle and has been known to break from the force Sarakon has put into some of his attacks, so he regularly has to repair it.
Abilities: Sarakon wasn't born with the ability to use magic like most were, in fact for a long time he had resolved himself to never use magic, he'd tried his hardest to call forth the power of the elements but even under the tuition of some of the greatest mages in the ranks of King Tarron's great army he still could not master it.
But one day he was sent out, a mass of the army's dark knights were to conquer another kingdom, the battle was a very bloody one and the enemy put up fierce resistance. All around him Sarakon saw his comrades being cut down, by the blades of the enemy and by their magic, Sarakon himself had been seriously injured in the fierce battle and the only thing that sustained him was his determination and his utter hatred for his enemy, he called upon this burning hatred inside for strength when he was on deaths door..and his call was answered, in an almost instinctual act of self preservation he released a powerful blast of magic, waves of fire whipped up around him and consumed the enemy ranks, evaporating their flesh and leaving nothing but charred, ashen skeletal remains...
From that day onwards Sarakon realised he could indeed harness the power of magic and he worked hard to master it throughout the many years of his life.
He's very capable of releasing all manner of low level elemental magic upon his foes at any time, although he does feel physically drained by this and becomes a little fatigued for awhile.
After sustaining a lot of injuries and having a burning rage build up within him he's capable of using much more powerful magic, usually this isn't out of choice, but a move made out of pure rage, and the effects of these attacks can be devastating and can be manifested in many different elemental and non elemental forms.
Other Abilities: Sarakon is a low level telekinetic, his mind can control small, non-organic objects within a limited range, within that range he could manipulate these objects as he sees fit, but outside that range he has absolutely no power over them. The range for his telekinetic abilities is about an 8 foot radius about him and the objects have to be pretty light, swords and boulders are too much for his mind to control but a knife or a fist sized rock pose no such problems and can make nice little projectiles if they happen to be within his mind's grasp.
Sarakon possesses great physical Strength and agility and is a very proficient hand to hand fighter, of course he prefers to just stroll in and massacre great swathes of people with Heretic....
He’s well versed in many different forms of swordsmanship and he handles Heretic as if it were as light as a feather.
Since his time in hell Sarakon has become sensitive to the spirits of people, each spirit is different and they resonate with their own unique frequency in his mind, allowing him to track a foe with relative ease.
Sarakon walked out calmly into the arena, momentarily blinded by the bright sunlight as he passed through a massive arched doorway from the dark interior complex out into the battle arena. As he emerged a mighty roar rose up from the surrounding crowd up in their seats, peering down on the arena...the people in the crowd varied from the poor peasants dressed in their scraggly clothes, to the fat rich people and noblemen and women that sat in the well furnished viewing rooms situated out on the surrounding walls, to give them a perfect view of the battle, but despite their obviously different rankings in society they all had a similar passion for the tournament, and their cheers all had the same strong enthusiasm....
Sarakon smirked to himself as he scanned around the stadium, he had only come to the tournament to seek out any powerful warriors that might be participating to boost their ego's, but now he was there in the midst of all the excitement it had managed to captivate even Sarakon...he was going to enjoy fighting here, destroying his opponents and being praised for it..it had been so long since he had people cheering him on, it felt good..but he wouldn't let it go to his head. Sarakon would enjoy the audience's support, but he would not let it distract him from his goal here, to slaughter all opponents..
I will make it to the final..whoever I face there must surely be a worthy soul...and I cannot allow any power to exist other than my own..
The smile dropped from Sarakon's face as he saw his opponent approach from the doors opposite him, he had felt the presence of this man's spirit earlier on but he had not been able to pinpoint exactly who the soul belonged to amongst the mass of other competitors and the queuing crowds of spectators..but now it was clear that one of the most powerful spirits in the tournament belonged to the assassin, a man called meridian...
Sarakon had expected to come across strong opponents later on in the tournament, but it seemed that, for Sarakon at least, this competition would have a fierce start...
This one battle may well decide the final outcome of the tournament....there is no doubt that this will be one of the more important matches...
Thought Sarakon as he watched meridian standing before him, the assassins clothes gently billowed in the wind and his ponytail swayed out to the side...meridian didn't look very well armoured, but he did look strong and agile, the power resonating from his soul was testimony to that, and he carried himself like a man that had seen much fighting and experienced great battles in his time...Sarakon ignored these minor details and paid more attention to the weapons that Meridian had on him, there was a multitude of knives strapped across his chest and around his belt, and he also had a rather long katana and a scythe,
So he uses powerful weapons....but can they match the power of the damned?
Thought Sarakon as he unhooked Heretic from his back, holding it out in front of him, his right hand was slightly out to his right and about two feet out in front of him and he held Heretic firmly, the massive blade covering part of the front of Sarakon's body from view,
Normally I'd go into the usual formalities and introduce myself, but there's no need for it here, he should have been told who his competitor would be..and seeing as he has come here to fight..seeing as he thinks he can take me on..then there's no need for me to waste anymore time
Thought Sarakon as he suddenly charged forwards, his armoured feet pounding along the gravel that littered the ground, as he raced towards Meridian. Before Sarakon reached the assassin he swung heretic out to his right and thrust his left hand forwards. Sarakon quickly channelled a small amount of his power into the air and sent out a small ball of fire, that roared out from his hand, heading towards Meridian. Meanwhile, Sarakon pulled Heretic even further round to his right and brought it up into the air, ready to smash the blade of death down just after the fireball reached Meridian...
..the fireball is weak, I didn't want to expend too much energy so early on..but hopefully he doesn't know that..it should work as a good diversion before my blade comes in...maybe this fight will be over quicker than I thought..but I doubt it
Thought Sarakon, as the small swirling mass of flames closed in on meridian, lighting up the surrounding area with a dull yellow and orange colour, as Sarakon's right hand firmly smashed downwards, bringing Heretic with it, weighing down the wrath of the damned with it's unholy blade, while the legions of souls within Heretic screeched in the pits of Sarakon's mind for Meridian's immediate and bloody death...
[OOC: Sorry about the crappy first post James, but it got the ball rolling...good luck mate]
~Shifted form slowly moved upon the darkened plane of the arena. The chanting calls, rowdy noise and filtering applause as both he and his opponent took their places brought a soft smile upon his face...~
[Tis seems this is one of the more highlighted matches. My travels have been long....so lets see if I can't unwind a bit]
~Turning to gaze at his opponent...he got quite a shock. He was already hurtling towards him, weapon at the ready as a blasy of fiery chasm hurtled towards him. Blinking, he swiftly went through his repitoire...unsheathing the scyhthe as he got ready...the sword still on his back as he stands at the ready...~
[I have to do this correctly, or it could end before t even began...]
~A sudden move suddenly erupted from himself as well. Swiftly stepping back, he smiled tightly as he readied and moved! The blade itself chopped down in front of him, burying into the ground in front of him...with but one consequence. With such force behind the blow, the air pushed in front was dangerous in it's own right, as was shown by the thin, bleeding slit on his forearm. No harmful damage done, just a annoyance, he quickly turned his thoughts outward. The fiery hell was still aimed towards him, and he still had to do something about it...~
[Grrr...Here we go..!!]
~The shaft of his scythe swirled as he struck out at the ball of fire. The blade, forged of the same material as his Dato Katana was indestructable....but that did not mean that it couldn't grow extremely hot. The fire erupted around the scythe's head as it touched a solid object...heat, intense and unforgiving, erupting about the blade and towards him. Clothes scorched and blanched at the onslaught...dragon-scale gauntlets bearing the brunt as the scratch gets cauterized by the heat. Shifting back from the blow...he growls softly...before making his attack...~
~Spinning from the blow, using the force of the explosion to temper his own blow...the crowd gasped as he swiped upwards, strength, enourmous and powerful, propelling it with the help of the man's own attack. What he neglected to mention was the blade, still sheathed on his back...ripping outwards as well as he spun. The four and a half foot blade as sharp....and the sheath was merely a glorified piece of clothe..a deadly lull. Swirling outwards...it was two attack in one, both deadly. The ponytail, the tri-blade still at the tip, was swung to wildly to constitue an attack. However, in spinning, it created a cocoon of artificial protection....able to smack a weapon askance or slice skin if it came within it's radius....~
[A worthy opponent so far, lets see how he deals with this...!]
(OOC--Heh...Sorry for the equally crappy post there Simon. It'l get better as always...!! Let's have fun with it...)
Current Project: Helping new people get on their feet, teaching people how to rp, and continuing in the lines of what I was doing last iteration of FFR.
Note: The RP Quizzes are postponed for the moment. Once an RP economy is set up, and I get a sponsor or RP...they will return. Otherwise, it will just be for fun.
Sarakon had mistimed his sword swipe, making Heretic cut ahead of his ball of flames,
No matter..
Thought Sarakon as Heretic smashed downwards, but, with a sudden burst of speed, Meridian simply stepped backwards, dodging the entire blade with ease, but a small line of blood that dripped down on his forearm suggested meridian wasn't quite as fast as he thought he was.
As heretic smashed down into the ground, sending the gravel flying, the ball of flames he'd unleashed continued its course towards Meridian, while Sarakon observed with heretic still buried in the ground.
Meridian quickly flicked his scythe around, whirling its blade straight into the path of the flames, which upon impact burst outwards in a small explosion around the scythe's blade, sending Meridian back a little, his scythe swinging around..Sarakon was surprised by the amount of damage the fire attack had done, it wasn't a great deal of damage but it was only meant to be a small diversion attack..
maybe I'm getting too powerful these days..
Thought Sarakon as he watched Meridian spinning around, his clothes giving off faint wisps of smoke as he swung his great scythe around in one swift motion back around to hit Sarakon.
He's using the momentum from my own attack to help him...his defence merges into his attack seamlessly...this man knows how to fight, I will need to keep an eye out for any tricks from him..
Meridian swung his scythe around in a magnificent upwards cut, the blade arcing its way through the air, tracing low across the ground before swinging up towards his chest, but Sarakon still had Heretic on low ground, so he quickly pulled the mighty blade up with his full strength into the scythe's path. The two blades smashed into each other with a tremendous force, grating against one another..and while Sarakon didn't manage to stop the scythe's path, his upwards swipe did lift the scythe off it's course to go over Sarakon's head. Sarakon smiled to himself, but then saw, out of the corner of his eye another two objects swinging around, the man's ponytail and his sheathed sword.
Sarakon quickly went to step out of the way but didn't make much of an effort as these two objects didn't register as a threat to him....but they did as the pony tail brushed across his face and the sheath slid across his chest..
Sarakon felt the hairs of the ponytail brush across his face, and then the sharp coldness of metal tracing a bloody line along his cheek, while Meridian’s katana blade ripped through it's sheathe across his chest, scoring out a small niche into his tough armour.
Impossible..
Thought Sarakon incredulously,
The blade only brushed past my armour lightly...to have caused any damage at all it would have to be impossibly sharp and hard..I'd only have imagined Heretic being able to do that....and the bastard cut my face..I should have been more cautious of him, I knew to watch out for tricks....the scum will pay for this effrontery
Sarakon stood back up quickly, reaching up behind him to unhook his battle axe with his left hand, now Sarakon was wielding two weapons, heretic in his right hand and the axe in his left.
Hoping meridian would be off balance after spinning around for his attack, Sarakon rushed in with both his weapons, his axe held across him to his right with Heretic across to his left, to act like a pair of scissors...Sarakon aimed at meridian's neck and clenched his fists as he arced both his weapons back outwards, hoping to catch Meridian's neck in the middle as both blades passed by one another..
[OOC:still ****e.. ...but it'll get better, I know it..]
~Completing the spin, he shifted around and stumbled slightly....a mock representation of being off balance. Shaking his head, he glanced up....and much information filled his gaze. The two bleeding lines on his opponent were testamount to the fact that at least the trick attacks had worked. They always did, in some way. His other opponent had fell for you too, and he was a worthy one indeed. He could only hope this one would be as good, and that was when it hit him to lookup...~
[.....!!!!]
~The twin weapons were gliding towards him with no sound at all, which meant that they were going fast indeed. He would barely have enough time to do anything, yet alone a counter-attack. Shifting down and back, he ducked and then slipped forward, twisting in mid-air at hip height...~
[Let's see if this works....]
~He had ducked under the blades yes, but it was close. Thin wisps of silver hair lay fluttering to the ground, and thetrickle of blood against his scalp lay testament that it was far too close for comfort. Eyeing his opponent, perhaps off-balance from such a powerful attack, had to take a step forward...seeing the momentum he put behindthe attack. His taloned hand swept up to gather the scythe laying on the ground up and ahead of him, a soft grunt of concentration heard...~
[This could all end now. If it goes on, it goes on....but a complicated mistake like that will likely be costly in the long run...]
~Taloned digits (fingers) wrapping about the hilt of the long handled scythe, he jerked upwards....the grunt of effort already being henceforth head. The strength put behind the action was tremendous, and it curved about his form along one side before slipping at an angle off the ground....slicing diagonally upwards towards his ribs and chest....the razored blade glinting in the sun...~
[Not enough to kill.....the angle is too off....]
~That thought, as soon as the parry or hit of the scythe was made....he gathered himself together then dived towards his opponent. It appeared to be a clumsy lunge, taloned digits extended, but the glint of metal in his hand showed not. It was a mere sliver of metal, about 3 inches long. Not even a weapon some would say. He had pulled it from the ground, perhaps from a previous battle, and had thought to use it. It was serrated, a deadly blade once, and in teh right hands could do damage again. If all else failed, he would bowl Sarakon over....giving him time to think as they disengaged...~
[Hope....tis the only thing left to us, and to them. Let us hope then, worthy friend, that this battle will be worthwhile and in spirit]
~The crowd cheered as they watched the two combatants go at it, a frenzy from within the feral soul. Betting on who would win, they had their fun....thier laughter, the two lives battling it out below nothing but entertainment to them...~
(OOC- There ya go. Sorry for taking so long. ****e as well, but meh..I'm tired. I decided to rp the crowd as well, add some spice to my posts...)
Good luck!
...but it'll get better, I know it..]
Linear Mode
