The Grand Battle S2G1! [Round Six: Eddelin City]

The Grand Battle S2G1! [Round Six: Eddelin City]
Originally posted on MSPA by cyber95.

Schazer Wrote:
Fun times! In.

Seth_air Wrote:
Originally posted on MSPA by Lisawags.

Ah, I apologize for the ludicrous character, cyber. I'll try to think of another one if you're still considering on letting me in. Once again, I'm verry sorry about it, especially if my character seemed to mock your Grand Battle and angered you.

Username: Lisawags
Name: Keleth
Gender: male
Race: a shapeshifter (looks like a human except for a few details)
Colour: #FF8000
Weapons/Abilities: Keleth doesn't carry much around with him, just the clothes on his back, a canteen filled with water, and a dagger. He has the ability to morph his body into different shape, but it can't be too extreme. He can't make himself too small, and he can't become too big either. With his ability, he can also transform his arm into a blunt object and whack people with it. He is also able to use a variety of spells, probably most of them being generic.
Description: I'll provide a picture of him later when I get home, which might be in a while. Personality-wise, Keleth is a patient person who never gives up on something once he puts his mind to it (sometimes it's as bad as Captain Ishmael). He is a little unwilling to depart with his coins; no matter what the amount is. He is humble and never praises himself. Whenever someone compliments him, he disagrees often. He is also slightly shy, but he will speak up when he has to. Although he is a little perverted, he still has a good heart.
Biography: When he was a child, Keleth's parents had died from a disease, and so he was left alone. Eventually, he was taken to an orphanage. He was accepted by the other children, and people rarely disliked him. That changed when a scout for a monastery of young children gifted with magic had some interest in Keleth. Within a few weeks, he was taken from the orphanage to the monastery.

Because of the sudden change, Keleth rarely was seen with other children outside of training. After years of rigorous training, he was taken to an adept of the magical arts to become an apprentice at the age of seventeen.

Keleth stayed with his master for almost four years, until he was abducted into the Grand Battle.
Originally posted on MSPA by cyber95.

Lisawags Wrote:Ah, I apologize for the ludicrous character, cyber. I'll try to think of another one if you're still considering on letting me in. Once again, I'm verry sorry about it, especially if my character seemed to mock your Grand Battle and angered you.
This one works, and is accepted.

Sorry if I seemed harsh.
Semi-ludicrous characters are okay, like Eximo, but I just felt that coconut was a bit too far, y'know? Anyways, accepted.

I do believe Archduke reserved or something, so he should round out our crazy cast of characters.
Originally posted on MSPA by The Dr..

Oh shit, there's still a spot left right? If there is then I WANT IT
Originally posted on MSPA by cyber95.

Depends on whether or not Archduke makes good on his reserve.
Originally posted on MSPA by The Dr..

Oh right.

Originally posted on MSPA by Godbot.

cyber95 said "when Archduke starts his season," so I'm sure two or three more of these things will spring up pretty soon. There'll be opportunities to play soon enough.
Originally posted on MSPA by Wojjan.

Wojjan Wrote:Yes Yes YES OH GOG RESERVE
quidquid Latine dictum sit altum videtur.
Originally posted on MSPA by cyber95.

Oh crap! Uh... let me see what happened here and if I have to boot somebody and why I suck.
Originally posted on MSPA by The Dr..

Just putting this out here, in terms of chronological order, Seth_air was the last to sign up and/or reserve. I'm not counting Lisawags because the fact that an older character was still in place before Seth_air's but just replaced is still good in my book.
Originally posted on MSPA by cyber95.

Yeah, okay. Sorry, Seth. Perhaps you could get in on the next one. I'll update the list once I have some filled in reserves. Wojjan, you're in.

Note to self: Pay more attention, like srsly.
Originally posted on MSPA by Wojjan.

Yaaay! To commemorate, have a character!

Username: Wojjan
Name/Race: Kracht. An intelligent material that has an infinite half-life.
Gender: Shapen as a male, but only strictly formed so as decoration.
Color: 80BF00
Weapon: No thank you.

History: Kracht has been here before, he is the result of countless loops through time. Once he wins this Grand Battle he will soon return to one of the most dull and empty nooks in the multiverse, Earth. With a unnervingly vast knowledge of human life and its results, scientists will find him on the coast of South Africa. Numerous tests later he will be declared an indestructible material, and reshapen and constructed to the image of the human race. The scientists will originally name him the african word for "durability", but since their language of origin has a far too complex word for that - and it's just ridiculous for foreigners to pronounce - he will be named after the simpler word for "force", Kracht. He will first be stored in an estate belonging to the Congolese government, but soon America and the EU will coincide that the government there is far too corrupt for a scientific miracle as Kracht to remain.
Transported to Calais, he will once again see the way and pace of the human life and adapt to his world. He will soon reexperience the English language, rendering him as valuable - no, more valuable than a human being. Kracht inevitably surpassed its hosts, performing all tasks humans were too frail or stupid to successfully pull off. Kracht gained the intelligence and muscle needed for far more than just everyday life, and earned time for itself. After he learned everything, what use had he in this world? He was more than eager to compete in the battle that was about to take place.

Description: Kracht is shapen to the image of a human, approximately 1,7 metres in height, 56 kilograms, a waist size of 0,52 metres, and a generally fit figure. His body color is a pale chartresue, unlike any other metals known up to today, and not covered by any of the humans' clothing. Dignity never was his best quality. He isn't quick to anger or prone to befriend, but will take his supernatural properties out on anyone who dares oppose him.

Abilities: As mentioned before, he gains his positive traits in battle from his amazing strength and cunning mind. He also has the advantage of being a quick learner, adjusting and tweaking its battling strategy in picoseconds. There is, however, another great quirk to the material Kracht. There is a constant field of radiation around him, part of the endless scientific cycle that rendered his half-life infinite, and I won't bother going in details there. It's a bit complicated. If you insist to know, however, it's spoilered right below here. Long story short, he has a field around him that can at first cause a general unease, and when exposed intensely for more than hours, can cause blindness, dementia and imminent death.
Now here's the cycle I mentioned:
quidquid Latine dictum sit altum videtur.
Originally posted on MSPA by cyber95.

Quote:He was more than eager to compete in the battle that was about to take place.
Quote:Also, it varies from thread to thread, so I should state it. In this battle, your entrant has no clue what the hell is going on. They've been plucked from whatever activity they were involved in to participate in the battle, and have been given no forewarning or anything.
EDIT: You added an annendum there. I suppose it means that he quickly gets his bearings and isn't worried about the situation he's thrust into.
Something I don't particularly like is that you basically said "He will win," though. Explain to me why I'm reading that wrong.
Other than that slight worry, however, it seems all good.
Originally posted on MSPA by Wojjan.

cyber95 Wrote:Something I don't particularly like is that you basically said "He will win," though. Explain to me why I'm reading that wrong.
Seriously, imagine the drama of the entire universe being rewritten as time retcons itself.
quidquid Latine dictum sit altum videtur.
Originally posted on MSPA by Lord Paradise.

So Schazer's guy manipulates the odds and your guy manipulates reality? I'm sensing a conflict of interest.
Originally posted on MSPA by Wojjan.

Lord Paradise Wrote:So Schazer's guy manipulates the odds and your guy manipulates reality? I'm sensing a conflict of interest.
Where do you even get off reading that? He's just strong and smart and radiating.
quidquid Latine dictum sit altum videtur.
Originally posted on MSPA by Schazer.

Oh, no, Xadrez (coincidentally a name that can be fully typed with the left hand) only uses prior information to accurately calculate the odds. He just, y'know, gets a little ahead of himself sometimes [img]images/smilies/apple.gif[/img]
Originally posted on MSPA by Archduke_Ferdinand.

Username: Archduke_Ferdinand
Name/Race: Weonaerith Temperis-Cortigari "The Divider" Tribexis, Rillian (Rillians are black skinned humanoids whose bodies are comparable in physique to humans, but with sharply edged armor plates coming off of their shoulders and adorning their bodies)
Gender: Male
Color: [background=orange:2obt0vjc]Blackety Orangety[/background:2obt0vjc]
Weapon: A scythe designed for excellent balance and strength by him. It has a more 'mechanized' function but he prefers not to activate this due to its instability and somewhat heavier nature.

History: Weonaerith, or Weo, was born in the Rillian city of Temperis where he lived under the Tribexis family in the house Cortigari. His family had been longstandingly warriors, though he sought to free himself from the primitive ways of war by introducing a more precise set of sciences to the craft. Learning what he could from black market obtained scholarly texts, he eventually devised his own system by which to create tools for the benefit of warriors. When discovered, his creations were initially embraced by his closest family members and their friends. Combat performance was increased tenfold amongst those who employed his many tricks and gadgets, and this took the notice of some of the Cortigari house officials. When he demonstrated the potential of his war machines directly to the house, a large number of families were intensely disturbed. To be combining the higher talents of the machinists and scholars with the noble yet more savage discipline of war was seen by some as blasphemy, and an internal struggle erupted within the house Cortigari that consumed his entire remaining family and countless others in the bloodbath, fueled by his own machines. The house called him The Divider and its surviving members called on the rest of Temperis to throw him from the city bounds, as the death penalty was not employed for such a crime as his. Angered greatly by his deportation, he slowly built up his own shop in the wilderness, and created for himself a new weapon, though the shame of what he had done still haunted him. It wasn't a particularly special night that he was whisked away to battle- he simply headed to sleep, his scythe by his bedstand, and the next thing he knew he was off.

Description: A six foot tall black skinned, armor plated humanoid with a tight fitting, slightly ornate outfit, similarly colored. His eyes are, like all Rillians, solid purple with no pupils. An incredibly angular set of features dots his entire form, with gaunt, sunken cheeks and pointed, almost spear like shoulderplates. He carries his scythe almost naturally due to his practice as a warrior, and his muscular physique shows this well- however he is lean, more built as an acrobat than a tank.

Abilities: He hacks you to death with a warscythe. That is his ability.
Originally posted on MSPA by cyber95.

Cheers and applause could be heard from the empty seats around what appeared to be the stage for a game show.

The Observer walked out onto the stage, a spotlight shining on him, and he bowed to the nonexistant crowds.
"Thank you, thank you. It's an honor to be starting this. We've been having a lot of fun with the previous season of battles, but we knew you folks couldn't wait for more, so we're getting a head start on this! I'm sure you all know the rules by now. 8 go in, every round somebody kills somebody else, and we move on to the next round until there's only one left! Now, without further adieu, let's meet our contestants!"

Multicolored lights raced around the room, when a bright spotlight illuminated a spot where previously nobody stood, and there was an aged man there.
"This, ladies and gents, is Arkal of the Silver Hammer. Why don't you tell us about yourself? That's right, because you're completely immobilized! Let me fill in the folks at home for you. Arkal is a great blacksmith who carries his forge around with him everywhere, and he can make some damn good weapons that he's proud of. We'll have to see how they fare!"

The spotlight flickered a bit, and where Arkal was just a moment ago, a girl appeared.
"This, folks, is Jennifer Tull! She's royalty, a quick learner, good at almost everything, and overall nearly perfect! Don't you just wanna smash her beautiful face in? We'll see how quickly her opponents get to that!"

In the spotlight just a moment later was a tan colored orbish thing.
"This here is simply called The Ovoid! A four dimensional entity that I honestly have no idea how you're going to kill it. This is only a part of it you're seeing, as the rest is occupying a dimension that your minds can't perceive! Good luck!"

Next up was a rather ordinary looking boy, except for the bloody shirt with hole in the shoulder.
"This is Maxwell. Funny thing, there's another Maxwell in another battle I have the pleasure of hosting! With this particular Maxwell is a creature named Sikarius, and it's basically a big ol' carnivorous tapeworm!"

A slab of obsidian took the spotlight, with a humanesque shape floating above it.
"This is Xadrez, and he plays a mean game of chess, I hear. Might even give my buddy The Director a run for his money."
The Observer paused to let the 'audience' laugh.
"Anyway, he's a higher planar entity, and master tactician. He should bring some unique strategy to the playing field."

Next up was a chartreuse naked man.
"This is the Kracht. It's some crazy mineral with sentience and no half-life that any of you will ever live to see. Unless you're immortal, but even then, chances are slim. He's in a time loop right now, and has won this many times over and over again. Who wants to rewrite history?"

The spotlight flickered again, changing the view to a man in a robe.
"Say hello to Keleth! A shapeshifter! Because really, we can't have a battle without some sort of shapeshifter, can we? He's the patient type, and travels light. Hopefully not so light that he'll have nothing to defend himself with. Easy kills are boring kills."

The light flickered once more to show a humanoid creature with scaled around his body.
"This is a Rillian named Wonar- Weonarth- Weonarith Tempers-Core- just call him The Divider, because his name is way too complicated. He's got a scythe that he's rather good with, and that's all there really is to say about that."

The colored lights began spinning around the room once more.
"Well, now you know our contestants, let's get this show on the road! Your first stop will be a wonderful place called Alpha Complex! A few tips for our wonderful players: Don't be a filthy commie, respect your superiors, and most importantly, be happy! Enjoy!"

The lights began shutting off one by one, and as the last one turned off, all that remained was total darkness.</font>


The eight contestants found themselves in a barracks. GBS was marked on the wall, and with the exception of Keleth, Jennifer, and Arkal, everybody had a yellow stripe on them. Nobody was quite sure what it meant, but the one thing that was apparent was the voice was apparently in charge.

Originally posted on MSPA by Schazer.

Xadrez was... well... disconcerted was probably the best word for his reaction to the brashly sudden turn of events. The spirit had, just moments prior, been engrossed by the beginnings of a brawl in the rear of some human establishment; the context of which Xadrez cared little for. It possessed a vague understanding of the motivations that drove men to their mutual destruction, but had made the decision, eons ago, to not pursue it if the data of the act itself could account for itself.

This trivial little fight was forgotten with this sudden, keenly sensed distance, discomfiting all the more for the fact Xadrez had no idea where he was. All the context the spirit had meticulously constructed, scaffolding to its myriad calculations, was now cast away. All the odds that Xadrez had gathered and postulated and tested and relied upon for the humans, its humans; gone.

Had Xadrez not been immobilised throughout the Observer's introduction, it would've raised a spectral arm and swept it across the jet-black plate, scattering the mismatched pieces every which way - a motion half frustration, half acceptance. Conceding it could not do this, the spirit was content to listen, the knife in its back itching to forge a new set of variables to adorn the board before it, sullied as it was now in cluttered irrelevance.

Eight recurring foes were studied to the tactician's fullest extent while all bar one were held in this condition of "immobility"; as the inexcusable antagonism of this "Observer" had firmly placed it in Xadrez's fiercely calculating mind as combatant; compounded with an understanding of shifting locales. If the spirit had eyelids, it would've blinked with surprise at how it had been described, but instead allowed itself a few tangents before focusing on the remainder of the Observer's messages. Who was this Director? Another foe? Plausible, considering the way the Observer had referred to him on amicable terms. These thoughts, their permutations and implications, lingered uneasily in Xadrez; this whole competition, and most of all his position in the midst of it, were strange and new. Only on a few choice occasions had Xadrez ever made the combatants he studied aware of his presence, and the results he had gleaned from those tests did little to allay it in its present state - never had all factors; all foes, now, of Xadrez personally; understood him to even this meagre extent now.

The stage was thrown into darkness, and the eight contestants found themselves in Alpha Complex. Xadrez made the first move; unusual for the phlegmatic spirit - but it had already run the preliminary odds of the potential scenarios through its head and decided this action would not cost it - or would cost it the least. The other contestants were snapped out of their reverie by the long-awaited smack and clatter and rattle of hordes of game pieces being swept off the obsidian, struck clean across its surface flawed only with a highway of gold. Leaders, generals, dignitaries, bounced and rolled under narrow, uncomfortable cots; entire armies scattered into disarray as the solid blocks of their chess pieces were shattered on the concrete floor.

A meaningless world of stone people littered the ground. The disc tilted to fit through the exit, before levelling out again once outside in the corridor. The spirit deliberately chose not to look at any of them as it turned and drifted up the worn-out hallway.

Originally posted on MSPA by Lord Paradise.

Shit, thought Jen. I have to respect my superiors.

Jen was only mildly perturbed by having fallen asleep in a cabin somewhere in Quebec and woken up strapped to a chair somewhere in Nevada or thereabouts. Such cognitive dissonance can hopefully be understood coming from the mind of a girl who had flirted with Death for years, and then finally entered a serious relationship with Death at the expense of their mutual friend Good Sense who fell into a valley cycle of envy, rage and despair before finally taking a bullet to the Self. Shit, she thought again, too groggy to produce any variety in her profanities.

That voice came on again. Jen distantly admired the quality of the sound-system.


A handful of vents opened up in the ceiling and a red gas began to fill the room. Jen caught a whiff of something like lead paint, took a deep breath and held it.
Originally posted on MSPA by Lankie.

Maxwell bolted up from the cramped bunk, clutching his stomach and moaning in pain. Inside an Irate creature stirred, its voice only the boy could hear.
[color=#0040BF]"How DARE he speak of me like that! How dare it insult my lineage of over a thousand years! I shall eviscerate his skull! I will dine on his flesh till he is naught but bone! I will-"
"Shut up!" Maxwell shouts at himself, in an attempt to command the Wyrm inside of him, he muted his voice to a whisper. "Besides, tapeworm is an accurate description for you."
Maxwell looked around, already something had taken action, small playing pieces scatter around the floor as a huge black disk ominously drifts out of the large room, a towering ethereal humanoid, floating above it. "We are in above our heads here."
"HAH! How so boy? I hold the greatest weapon in the world!"
"I don't think we are in our world though."
Maxwell reflected on what happened before, it was weird, as if he was not there but there at the same time. He was obviously present during the Observer's twisted introduction, but the rest it felt like he was part of the non-existent audience. Either way, the only knowledge he had now was a brief summary of the contestants and the fact that he was in competition with them all.
"What do you think, Sik?"
"Yes, an interesting challenge indeed. This should be fun!
"I meant a plan. What we going to do about people?"
"We'll kill them you moron! Please, as if I have ever entered a situation with a plan, You need no plan when you become this powerful!
Maxwell grimaced; sometimes he wished that he was possessed with something less bloodthirsty. Hell, he wished he didn't go down that alley way, he could have had a normal life then. Instead he is now a wanted criminal, desensitised by all the killing he has done, all because of some sick monster inside of him.
He stood up, noticing a huge yellow stripe across his shirt and looked down the room, seeing the other contestants.
Originally posted on MSPA by Dragon Fogel.

Arkal coughed as the smoke dispersed through the room, and quickly covered his mouth.

Can't work like this, he thought. Better get out and look for a better workshop.

He walked towards the door, ignoring everyone in his way, stopping only to pick up one of the stone playing pieces Xadrez had discarded. He examined it once he was safely in the hall.

Hmm. Looks like quartzite. Nice craftsmanship. Not sure I can use it for anything more than decoration, though... well, might as well hang on to it anyways.

Arkal stuffed the chess piece into a pouch and walked down the hallway. The walls of this building were made of unfamiliar metal - he would have to look at acquiring some later. Perhaps he could construct some tool for that purpose.

He paused as he saw a small machine stop by a wall, upon which the words "FRIEND COMPUTER CAN KISS MY A" were written - the sentence seemed to have been finished with a splatter of blood.

The machine directed a blast of flame at the words, slowly obscuring them. Arkal looked on with great interest.

He unlocked the chain holding his anvil to his back, and slammed it on the floor with great force. Then he did the same with his forge. He walked over to the strange machine, and picked it up once its flame stopped.

"You'll make a fine mace," he said to it admiringly, as he placed the scrubot on the anvil and began hammering at its outer covering.

Originally posted on MSPA by Wojjan.

It took some time to snap out of the Observer's forceful stupor, as it was usually the case. When the feeling fades, you're usually left with a churning feeling in the insides, both from a general nausea and a mental angst of what was happening. Neither applied to Kracht. Maxwell, on the other hand was having more trouble, but he wasn't to blame, of course. His parasite was acting up again. This will be the end of him if, or rather, because he doesn't watch out.
Paying little attention to the ever so persistent and monotonous voice booming from every speaker in the vincinity, and less so to the yellow ribbon he was awarded for not fitting in the humans' idea of normal, he took some cautious steps forward, and checked his surroundings. Artal dug up his shrine of death already, and proceeded to mercilessly slaughter every material in sight. It used to bug him, kind of. Wondering why he hadn't noticed the text on the wall before, he followed the chess board on his way to the local briefing room, since the voice so kindly demanded it.
Maybe kindly was a strange word for the scenery here. It felt like a plea for attention, to do at least something right. a terminally ill child wanting to not leave his parents behind in disappointment, cleaning plates by throwing them over the picket fence. Such as this 'Friend' Computer made us attend the meeting in the briefing room by hemorrhaging red smoke, harmful to carbon-based organisms. He took some time to enjoy the show, as the others rushed by him to quickly close the airlock. Not intending to be closed in, he picked up the rubble Xadrez had left, and hasted towards him.

"It is a sign of defeat to knock over your king."

quidquid Latine dictum sit altum videtur.
Originally posted on MSPA by Schazer.

The disc did not turn, but the spirit above it deigned to spin slowly, blank eyes appraising Kracht. The Observer said he has won this competition many times over. Perpetuation; ignoring the chronological flow. Or transcending it. The comes as no surprise to the Observer; he implies that breaking the loop is possible, yet this Kracht believes it to be not. Mineral. Inorganic. Xadrez did not take the proffered monarch, matter-of-factly adding to his mental dossier Confident. Depending on whether his claims hold true, arrogant; Delusional. Postulating truth in his perpetuity, he knows what I will do next. There was no malice in these thoughts; it was simply how Xadrez saw everything. The stern-faced warlord trembled a little in Kracht's hand, and for a moment nothing happened. Kracht's crystalline features twitched a little as the spirit's dispassionate, measured voice filled his head.

You already know my response to your jibe

The ageless one shook his head, no surprise registering.
"Nope. You've told me that every damn time, wouldn't you believe it." Xadrez didn't. "Come on, chessmaster, loosen up. You know that I know you won't remain all lofty and objective forever." There was another long pause, by which point several other contestants had stumbled out of the smoke-filled room. Kracht shrugged, and walked around the black disc, which idly trailed after him. With his back to Xadrez, holding the king up to his face to better examine its now-tediously familiar features, Kracht declared, "That's quite all right. You almost never believed at this point before - but it generally brought you round faster when I did. Can't blame me for wanting to get this show on the road, can you?"

Xadrez said nothing, still paralysed with speculation on the ramifications of opening his mouth. Kracht turned to look up at the inscrutable spirit, chuckling with sympathy garnered from dozens of repetitions of this exchange. "You poor thing. You poor, fallacious thing." Xadrez's response (or lack of it) finally made the stone features quirk with something resembling surprise. "Hm. That actually worked, last time." Shrugging unconcernedly again, the pair made their way up to a junction; Kracht turning right, Xadrez deliberately and wordlessly floating straight ahead.

"Briefing room's this way, Troubleshooter! Don't want to be late to your first mission!" Kracht received only a breaking of the tactician's telepathic hold on the king. Tossing the piece over his shoulder, the immortal hummed a loyalty anthem as he strolled to the briefing room.

Xadrez had a headache.