Colosseum Ｌ Ｉ Ｍ Ｉ Ｔ Ｌ Ｅ Ｓ Ｓ [Closed until summer – ask to be tagged!]

[Swoob]

JOURNEY BEYOND POSSIBILITY

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[Swoob]

"How are the troops holding up, Mark?"

​

"Sir, we successfully forced the Lirian army to retreat."

​

"Casualties, Wes?"

​

"Forty six."

​

"There were numerous opposing casualties, however."

"Thousands even."

"R-right! My apologies, sir."

"That doesn't make me feel better, Kali.

​

"Any other reports?"

"Our other battles are going very well."

"We might need assistance in Ietis."

​

"Still counting injured."

​

"You still need to appear tomorrow on international TV."

...

​

...

​

...

​

...

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P R O P H E T
​

With: –––


At: LLU Headquarters


OOC: let's do this everyone c:

THE SETTING SUN SHONE brilliantly through the window of the Leader's office, splattering fiery colors on the floor. Young Prophet Steele leaned back in a large, black chair, hair outlined by the sun in an orange glow. Arms crossed behind his head, he sighed and whispered to himself, "Why do I have to get so damn tired?"


Prophet hated sleeping. It seemed as if he could never trust his troops to deal with everything while he dreamt. Nervousness and fear ate away at his mind relentlessly, often times resulting in him not even falling asleep. Despite this, though, he trudged toward his living quarters within the LLU base, wandering through the halls in a rather unprofessional manner, and readied himself for the night. As he tackled his bed heavily, his eyes stared up at the ceiling and glazed over.


I've come a long way, he thought, reminiscing on the past few years. Sometimes, he could barely even believe the organization he had managed to erect. To him, it felt like he had come home to his two dangling parents a month ago, and his sister, two. He still saw them in the halls, sometimes – he could hear their voices like residue in his ears.


Prophet shook his head violently. He had trouble sleeping already; there was no way he could even shut his eyes if he thought about his past. Letting out a pent-up sigh, he draped the lids over his eyes and relaxed his muscles one by one. He was a tired soul. After a handful of minutes of wandering through his mind, his thoughts blended into incoherency. Feeling draining from his body, Prophet eased into what would be a very fitful, uncomfortable slumber.

Suddenly, Prophet's eyes shot open, consciousness quickly flowing throughout his body. With a groan, he picked his body up and rubbed his eyelids and waited for his vision to clear. Further syncing himself with his surroundings, he felt an intense pang of panic in his stomach and whipped his head around wildly.


He was sitting with his legs out in the back of what seemed to be the inside of a taxi. Through the window, an immeasurable amount of wildly designed vehicles were soaring through open air, all in the same direction. Enormous, oddly-shaped buildings and spires of sleek, silver metal rose from the orange nothingness below. His gaze followed the direction of the flying cars to a round, silver building that reflected the entire world around it. Fear and confusion bubbling up in his throat, Prophet yelled to the air, "Where the fuck am I?"


"Oh, you're awake," a cheery, male voice called from the driver's seat, gripping his attention. A humanoid mass of darkness poked his head over the seat, appearing to look over his shoulder. "Welcome to Valhalla. Try your best and become a god!"

 

[Lockett]

The Ultimate Destruction

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P A Z Z O
Tag: None


Location: Home Base//New Heaven


OOC: It's about time, let's rock.
​

Images of a battle hard fought relentlessly struck the young Ringer's mind. War after war, battle after battle, he often wondered if there was a point to it all; that's when he appeared. The single entity responsible for all of this hatred, the single entity responsible for the destruction of humanity, his father. Sweat trickled down his cheeks, anger building up as his lust for blood only strengthened with every waking moment. It was during times like these that he'd always required a..stimulant..to put his mind at ease.


"Thoughts of the past?" From within the pitch black scenery a gentle hand slid across the other's rough skin. "Mwen se yon te toujou nan bwa. He paused, lightly cupping her hand in his own. "It is what it is." Slowly it slid, the hand speaking volumes more than it's host. "Why don't we give you something different to think about for a moment?" A kiss, then one, then two, sounds of lips crashing against one another engulfed the silence-ridden living quarters. Hardly audible sighs, grunts, and moans slithered from the bed sheets but it hadn't ever gotten any louder than that. As the wondrous night continued on-- actually you won't know what happened.. FADE TO BLACK!


"Ou konnen, Pazzo, ou pral travay tèt ou nan yon kavo. Don't overwork yourself, okay? Pazzo silently nodded, his arms folded behind his back as he glanced at the now sleeping Natasha. "Dam mwen, anmòrèz mwen." A faint smile crept on his face, hidden by the darkness "Thank you.."


VROOOOM. Bump. Bump.


Vision was granted to him gradually, sound was the first sense to register. A moving car? That couldn't have been possible, he was in his bed; it all rang true as he further analyzed his surroundings. "Ki sa ki lanfè a ki pral sou ?! Where am I?!" He couldn't talk, he could only think, why was this? Turning to his right, his eyes widened behind his shades; an entirely different world before him.


Flying cars, buildings that were clearly too high for his vision to grasp. Everything was all so.. futuristic here. He'd seen stuff like this on television but never had he gotten a chance to peek at it's beauty from up close. Wait a minute.. how was it he got here? Why was he clothed? "What's happened to me?" He could speak, now?


"Oh, you're awake" The driver. He hadn't even thought to look forward. "Welcome to Valhalla. Try your best and become a god!" Drenched by the darkness of the scene prior, the driver looked over his shoulder, a faint grin as he continued driving to the location Pazzo knew nothing of.


....One thing was clear though.. he was going to beat the shit of whomever was responsible for bringing him here....
​

 

[Genocide]

Galactic Pirate of Death

A slow sigh left the lips of the Death King as he walked the cool metal halls of the Black Market. It was an odd to name a ship such as that but it was that or nothing, the others apart of his roundabout group said their way or the highway. And it seemed that Spack had decided it was better to agree with them and have the ship rather than disagree and not have it. Although since all this was happening he decided it might of been best to sever his connection with the Market, it'd help him in the long run no doubt. Slowly the king brought his feet to a dead halt as he faced the doors to the head of the ship. Sometimes he had wondered what his 'top of the line' crew did while he wasn't looking, now might of been a good change to check it out.





Slipping off to the right he brought his face up to the vent in between the two doors, both a good thirty feet apart. Both of the doors seemed to be an entrance to the bridge of the ship. The pilots were talking to each other while flying, more or less doing their job; however, it seemed the gunners who were supposed to be manned at all times were around a table playing a game of cards. Sometimes Spack thought he was way too lenient on his crew, but as they were out here with him risking their own neck for him, he deiced to let them have fun at times. At any time they could be attacked so they had to have their fun, but at the same time they could be caught off-guard due to their antics of goofing off and horse playing.





Deciding he'd let them have their fun Spack turned around and started to walk back towards the elevator which let him go all around the ship. It took him a couple minutes to get to it due to the fact the elevators were more or less everywhere. However as Spack reached his hand to the buttons he unhitched a small metal door which opened up to a keypad with numbers and a thumb print. He put in a code and then smashed his thumb up against the scanner and moments later a monotonous mechanical voice said to him, 'Welcome, Spack'. Once done he hitched the door back and the elevator doors closed as he started to go to the top.





Not much happened on the ride up, most of the time spent solemnly contemplating what his next move was. If he'd be passive or try to find out where the heck he was in the Galaxy. Eventually the doors opened up, he stepped out, and they closed behind him going back down almost immediately. Nilhistically the male sighed as he was standing in a metal room, in total the room was around thirty by thirty feet. Behind him was the elevator and in front of him was a metal door which lead to his cabin, his home, where he laid his head at night.


As Spack entered the room he paid no attention the extravagant room he had, the pirate's target was his bed. As he made it towards the bed he fell onto it and just molded into the bed feeling his own body relax. Letting a slow sigh leave his lips he closed his eyes and set, "Well, tomorrows gonna be a new day. Maybe it will be a little fun."

A Car?

Slowly Spack's eye were brought back and he saw light, though he then felt as if he was moving. Wait. He was moving. What? Looking around he was already on alert, as if he was ready to be attacked at any moment. 'Where the heck am I... This looks pretty futuristic, so maybe a planet where it is more advanced than others...'


Though he seemed to of been stopped in his train of thought as he looked towards the front of... a car? Someone had spoken, "Oh, you're awake. "Welcome to Valhalla. Try your best and become a god!"





"Yeah... Valhalla..."


Where the heck was he?





​

​

 

[amybri18]

[/URL]

With: N/A


At: Icinda Valhalla


OOC: Let's get this party started!

The sunset always looked beautiful from the beach. With the huge golden sun sinking down into the sea, and the light reflecting off the crystal clear water, it is a sight you just cannot live without seeing at least once in your life. For Corelina, the sunset is one of good things about being on the run. In her past home, down in the underwater cities of Ocinia, she had never witnessed a sunset. Not until she came up to the surface. However, now that she lived on the surface, she saw it nearly everyday. As long as she was brave enough to exit the safety of the forest and enter the dangers which the beach provide (like being caught), she could watch it whenever she pleased. So now, as she stood on the beach of Icinda, she wished this moment would never end.


"Aqua would love this..." she muttered under her breath. Aqua, or Aquanik if you want his full name, was Coral's twin brother. She didn't like to think about him much, but she knew he would love to see this sunset. However, she hadn't seen him in, what, 68 years? For humans, that's 17 years, still a long time. She doubted Aquanik would ever want to see her again.


Sighing, Coral turned around and walked back into the forest. The sun had now set, and she had around 5 minutes before the world descended into darkness. She didn't like to travel by night, she never had, so everyday after sunset she would seek shelter to stay in until morning. All she had to do was find a cave to sleep in, or a tree to sleep on, or something like that. Since she knew there were no caves on this island, she decided to simply climb a tree, tie herself to a branch and sleep. Of course, a cave would be better, but such is life. The sky was beginning to darken as Coral pulled herself up a tall tree. She stopped a few branches up, took out one of her knifes, cut off vine and tied herself to the branch. That way, she wouldn't fall. Hopefully. Darkness finally surrounded Ocinia, and Coral drifted off to sleep...




Her eyes shot open. This wasn't the forest. Was she dreaming? Or had she been kidnapped? It look as if she was sitting in the back of a... actually, she wasn't sure. It was a moving vehicle, that's for sure. Unfortunately, she wasn't sure what it was. She had never been in a vehicle. Wait, have I been caught? she asked herself. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, NO! There is NO way I have been caught! She looked out the window, and saw a weird land surrounded by a strange, orange light. What was this place? Definitely nowhere in Ocinia, and she was pretty sure it wasn't anywhere on Elementria... Was she on a whole other planet? Was this place some sort of punishment planet for criminals? She hoped not, she really did...


"Oh, you're awake," the guy in the front said. "Welcome to Valhalla. Try your best and become a god!"


Coral raised an eyebrow. "A god? Ha! Why would I become a god? Your joking, right?" Something then dawned on her. Had she been taken to this place to become a better person? Had she been taken here to actually become a freakin' god?! "Uh, your not joking, are you..."

 

[SachiGrl]

​

Sueckra was curled up in the back seat of the vehicle that was transporting her to an unknown destination. Her green lips were pouting as she snored softly. Her large eyes were seemingly open, but she was sound asleep. Her eyes have a natural, thin outer film; it prevents dryness and provides general protection needed in and out of water. As she breathed using the bubble of water stored within her, her enlarged gill chambers expanded, then collapsed . Suddenly, the vehicle turned greatly and woke Sue from her slumber. Upon her awakening, her enormous eyes beamed a faint yellow glow.


"Hmm?" her eyes slowly scanned the vicinity as her vision sharpened.


"Oh, you're awake," said a conspicuous voice.


"Whe-" her yawn interrupted her incoming inquiry.


"Welcome to Valhalla. Try your best and become a god!"


The voice spoke enthusiastically. It was alarming yet Sueckra didn't react to it. Her sight was still adjusting to the bright orange and blue-steel colors. She could barely make out the talking figure. He was a dark, ominous figure. Despite not being able to see the seemingly male driver in his entirety, she twisted her body to the side seductively. She always liked surprises. What secrets does he hold? With that curious thought in mind, she asked:


"So, where we heading, big boy?" she looked ahead of them spotting a large silver bowl.


"We're heading towards the arena."


"Oh, and will you be battling me?" a sly grin appeared on her lips.


"Oh, ho, ho! No," he said quite cheerfully.


Suddenly, she lost interest in the being seated ahead of her. Even after regaining her sight, he was still some sort of manifest of darkness resembling a silhouette of a generic life form. This vessel she was riding in was proceeding in a velocity unfamiliar to her. Back in Chordate, her home planet, no such technology existed. She had little to no concern on being on an alien planet. With the strange orange haze below the platform the vessel rode and the night sky illuminated with man-made lights, Sueckra's eyes were having quite the feast. This just might be fun!

With: ---


At: Valhalla (Unknown)

OOC: I hope I did this right >.<
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[Yehovah]

REAL?



His mind raced, eyes darting to and fro as he sat their in silence. His ebony skin still as he lazily layed about in the darkened shed. The small shed was neat yet overcrowded with junk and nick knacks no one had a practical use for. He wore nothing but a pair of cotton pants and a baggy white t shirt. He stood with a slight sigh that would make any one question his current happiness, his face long and filled with sadness and regret. He tried to continue his daily life as normal, trying to carry on his current ways but all he could see was him. The image of the man haunted him it angered him. He stop the meaningless task and chores siting on the bed he had once sat on. Thee entire placed smelled of the man and was filled with his senseless and useless things with his junk and experiments. He layed down and closed his eyes listening to the silence around him and before long the boy was out. His small snores rang out throughout the corridor. He looked so normal and peaceful, very real and like human like. One would mistake him for a real boy but he wasn't he was far from it.


[ T I M E S K I P ]


The boy would awaken with a loud yawn as he stretched. Looking back and forth he watched as it suddenly hit him that he was moving, and rather fast might one add. Eyes darting to the driver as he spoke, "Oh, you're awake," His voice was cheerful and happy...Pinocchio hated it. "Welcome to Valhalla. Try your best and become a god!" The man continue which only made Pinocchio question him even more he wanted out of this vehicle and fast he could feel his rage boiling harder by the minute.

W̶̷̲̅ ̶̷̲̅A̶̷̲̅ ̶̷̲̅R̶̷̲̅ ̶̷̲̅M̶̷̲̅


With:N/A


At: Gepetto's Shack//New Heaven


OOC:I really don't know what to put here.
​

 

[The Creator Prime]

A K A N
​

With: N/A


At: Palace of Akan, Aman.


OOC: This roleplay is Akan Cool.

The Kings Long Since Forgotten


Here is seated the great king of kings, yet still uncrowned by his own people. The citizen of the Everliving saught power, but their king willed only balance, they became jealous, and soon stripped themselves off of everything they'd ever known, unifying in a mighty essence which dissipated as abstractly and violently as it had come into life.


By destroying the planet of Aman, the people of the Everliving had found peace in hellish calamity. Little was left beyond their progenitor, the first of the immortal. Akan, born from the fires of his own desire, had risen from mortal to immortal within the short time his species had existed. He was the first, and the strongest of his kin.


But now he was also the only, for he had been riddened of his people by this very calamity which had eclipsed his planet, his peoples' planet, and split it in two. The very power is now the only thing keeping the ruined planet alive, the once crown of the galaxy. But even in this dearest chaos there lies bounty, one last bastion of ancient and long since forgotten worlds. The Palace of Akan, a massive and awe inspiring citadel built atop a mound of technology the likes have never been seen or thought of yet to this day.


But few know that within this sleeping monstrosity of a creation there lies hidden treasure the likes few have witnessed in their lives ever before. A physical god, encased in the shell of metalic origin, enthroned upon a seat of power even the neediest wouldn't dare possess. But it is also these truths that aspire legends, legends which lead seekers of bounty and greedy hoarders.




"Boss, I think we found somethin' here.", came in over the radio. Moss quickly picked up his responder, pressed and held down the transmitter, and replied in a somewhat broken haze. The temple was doing all kinds of negative things to their transmittion quality. "What caught your eye, molten head?", he said, using one of the typical nicknames for his most favorite companion-victim.


"If you'd just quit with yer nicknamin' and I might just tell you.", replied Hokk, the so called 'Molten Head'. It seemed as if he'd woken up on the wrong side of the bed, but still carried with him a rather noticeable excitement. Almost as if he had found a treasure pile of Rok'tan gases in the middle of the worst of deserts. But even still, Moss didn't much enjoy the somewhat rebellious air that Hokk had used to wave around in the radio channel, so he had to show who was the boss. He continued in a very stern, commanding, yet somewhat hospitable voice, "Talking back to your boss, are we? Just go ahead and spit it out, you moron!".


"We found the throne room..."


This most simple of answers had put Moss at disbelief, never in his life had he ever imagined that this legend, of all, would be true. What he'd expected to find was at best a wrecked ship or something off of the other scavanders who didn't make it, but instead he'd found the holy grail of scavanging himself, all thanks to that geezer off of one of the transportation space stations. If he'd ever see that man again, he'd most assuredly kiss him, or at least pay for his food for at least fifty more years. After all, he was still a boss- can't just go ahead and give money to everyone and their mothers, now?


"Where are you?!", Moss managed to put forth in his moment of disbelief. His mind, barely being able to wrap itself around the situation, was at a clear loss as to what to do. All that was clear to him now was that he needed to see this for himself, this legend-turn-real. "Sending you the coordinates... Holy shit, it's huge!", came in over the radio, just at the perfect moment. Moss immediately blitzed off into the depths of the palace, following his companion's coordinates. After him was his personal assortment of guards, one which would see itself dwindle in size as they continued off into the depths of this great and vast labyrinthine construction.




Moss wasn't sure how many days, weeks, months, or maybe even years had passed since he'd last seen the outside world. He'd turned accustomed to the screaming, and the spectres of the past did no longer frighten him as they once had in the distant past. What continued to haunt him, however, was the voice of those he had damned himself, they lingered on in the hallways, reaching out for him in his sleep with hatred and pure malcontent.


He looked down into the depths of the hallways as he was feeding on one of the local mosses which magically managed to grow inside this 'Palace of the Damned'. When he was done, he continued strotting down the hallways of the palace, his four-legged stride carried with it conviction and hope, something which had brought Moss to this very place. He didn't know the extent of his personality, he didn't know who he was anymore, but he remembers the howling in the night and the wishes of the damned. It is these fears that bring him forwards, hoping for an end to the nightmare he'd brougt himself into.


It would therefor seem as but a dream when this tiny, pathetic creature of a man, reduced from proud into animalistic, cowardly, and beastly, stumbles upon one of the greatest tombs ever devised by the minds of any living entity. Moss dropped the fruit he'd taken from one of the trees in the corridors a while back onto the floor, his jaw visibly dropping in amazement at the sight of the grand arches, massive pillars, coloured and tinted windows. The holograms, the technology, and most of all, the throne itself. It was befit for an Emperor whom had ruled the galaxy, and that was exactly what it was.


Moss glared at the metalic body placed upon the palace throne with longing eyes with hints of jealousy. He hopped forwards towards the throne, picking up his trusty fruit from the floor with his free hand. As he continued on his three-legged journey through the absolutely massive hall he conversed with the fruit. With the sad reality of him having forgotten his own language, and the reality of him forgetting the meaning of sanity, he spoke to the forbidden fruit of his longing for the throne.


This very longing which moss held was the sole reason why the eyes of the slumbering titan had opened. The body shook to life, seemingly channeling the essence of the power around it into a physical manifestation of will. It would take little time before the arms twitched to life in a sudden and abrupt shake.


Moss was caught off-guard, amazed, yet terrified. He quickly ran the other way, holding onto his fruit for all dear life. But the power of the newly awoken was too much even at this basic stage, with a quick wave of the arm of the seated king the nuisance had turned into the void. It had been too long since he'd awoken, it was a slow stage which would often take many months to finish. But in the eyes of the Everliving, the immortal, this was a very little worry indeed.


Suddenly, however, a shining light screamed to life in front of Akan, the God which had awoken from his sleep. It irradiated a sense of familiarity, power, and respect to him. Slowly he rose, and forwards he walked in his own rythme. With each slow and mighty step Akan came one step closer to the shining whiteness. He reached forth his arm, seeing it twitch under the weight of his own power, and suddenly disappearing into the white void.


Akan stepped in.


He was met with a most unfamiliar gaze, and a most unfamiliar situation.


It'd seem he was seated within the very back of a vehicle, transportation, it'd seem.


But to his surprise, he was not met with a glowing feeling of disgust, wrath, or disrespect- no. Indeed, quite the opposite. He felt at home within this highly unusual vehicle, and the towers beyond the windows of the vehicle seemed to carry with them a certain semblence to those of his people.


Suddenly the most unusual turned highly unexpected, and from the driver's seat came forth a black mass, and it spoke. It spoke in the language of the Everliving. It could converse in the language of the long since fallen, and still it did not seem surprising. Akan was put off-guard by this entire ordeal, to the point where not even he could think clearly. After quickly noticing his lack of composure, Akan did his best to recover. By thinking clearly and analyzing the situation Akan did now feel further at ease. From his understanding he felt at home and he held a subconcious respect for the entity before him.


Like a light in the dark, the entity spoke to Akan, "Oh, you're awake, Welcome to Valhalla. Try your best and become a god!".


"Who are you? Where is this? Why do I feel so at ease?", Akan continued- his mind revitalized but full of questions.

 

[Grin]

​

no slide no slide no slide


"KOZMO SAYS ALERT!!! KOZMO SAYS ALERT!!!", says the tiny, muffled, and nagging little voice in Gaunt's breast pocket.


Outside, there is only the silence of space. Countless stars, each a sun to its own ten billion intelligent and doomed little lives, are visible from the cabin's six surrounding windows.


None of them are close enough to the ship, or its cabin, to cast so much as a glowbug's ass worth of light. They also aren't close enough for KOZMO's self-navigational sensors to detect them any more, so the poor little device is freaking out a little. "KOZMO SAYS ALERT!!! KOZMO SAYS-- HEY GAUNT, KOZMO SAYS TO YOU THE ALERT!!! GAAAAUNT!!!"


There's still no movement from Gaunt.


A dim turquoise glow, pulsing in heartbeat rhythms, begins to provides the only meager light source. With each merry blue flash, we see brief hints of shapes:

we're inside a jet-black cab.


six windows. leather interior.


sleek, tasteful. classic jazz look.


black letters on black backgrounds.


alphanumeric symbols, none of them familiar.


and two larger shapes. one drives the cab. the other sleeps.


two primordial beasts, wearing human shapes solely for the pleasure of mortals.


one of them's shaped like the darkest force of nature Gaunt's ever crossed through a thousand Hells.


the other one's shaped like the one driving.
​

"KOZMO SAYS ALERT, GAUNT!!! HEY!!!" the little voice whines, between festive little blinks. "KOZMO CAN HEAR GAUNT HEARTBEAT, SO KOZMO KNOW GAUNT NOT DEAD!!! IS KOZMO TO HAVE TO PLAY THE SONG KOZMO KNOWS GAUNT DOESN'T LIKE?!"


Although he remains motionless, KOZMO detects Gaunt stifling a low growl. Or, perhaps a snore, if you're a KOZMO and your audio receivers were made by the lowest bidder. The little voice becomes audibly exasperated, in the demanding tones of a small child refusing Nana's sloppy kisses: "AFFIRMATIVE THEN!!! KOZMO WILL PLAY IT!!!"


Suddenly, the inside of the cab is BLARING the sweet, jingling tones of The Candyjuice Dimension's National Anthem. KOZMO overheard the song about a year ago, while Gaunt was doing mercenary work for Empress Taffykins. KOZMO's nano-diagnostic capabilities then noted Gaunt's rising adrenaline levels every time they played their national anthem, and determined it was the best song to use as an alarm for Gaunt.


Unfortunately for KOZMO, there's two things it will never understand, even with its advanced and user-friendly AI:


One... Gaunt was purposely remaining quiet, so he could assess the situation, and KOZMO just blew his cover.


and,


Two... Gaunt really, really, reeeeeally hates that drecking song.


Gaunt SLAPS the blinking device, which ends the National Anthem abruptly (right in the middle of the line about "the loyalty of its unicorns"). He coughs and mumbles, through gritted teeth, "KOZMO... Status... Report."


"KOZMO SAY GAUNT HAVE TWO PENDING NOTIFICATIONS!"


*sigh*... "KOZMO... Open... Notifications."


"FIRST NOTIFICATION! AN UPDATE IS AVAILABLE FOR KOZMO! WILL GAUNT AUTHORIZE UPDATE?"


...rrrrr... "Yes."


"UPDATE FAILED! KOZMO IS OUT OF RANGE! THIS SEEMS LIKE GOOD TIME FOR KOZMO TO OPEN SECOND NOTIFICATION... WE HAVE EXITED NEW AUSTRAND AND KOZMO CANNOT GET A CONNECTION TO THE SERVER!"


Gaunt pinches the bridge of his nose and leans forward. His eyes squeeze tight enough to make diamonds from dinosaurs. There's a sound like tightening leather as his fingers curl into a fist. "Yes, you damned computer, I KNOW... we've exited New Austrand. Now if you'd just ZIP IT for a few seconds--"


"Oh, you're awake!" A voice echoes from everyplace and no-place at the same time. The vibrato of speech seems to come from every blackened surface of the cab. Gaunt narrows his eyes at the face of the driver, which spins to face him. "Welcome to Valhalla. Try your best and become a god!" Gaunt immediately recognizes the face of The Lyran... the creature he was hired to "watch" during a meeting with N'darkoti. The last thing he remembers... N'darkoti pointed to him, seconds before being pulled into inky black nothingness...


Several questions cross Gaunt's mind, but he chooses to keep them to himself, for now. After all, the best way to study any situation is to stop yapping and start looking. One thing is certain, given the nature of his capture... if the Lyran wanted him dead, he'd definitely be dead right now. With no other information to go by, that was Gaunt's only point of leverage in this whole confusing situation.


Gaunt smiles to himself. I'll still take it, he thinks. He fishes KOZMO out of his breast pocket, activates the touchscreen, and presses the "Metapower Data Analysis" symbol. Let's see what we're dealing with here...

 

[Swoob]

P R O P H E T
​

With: –––


At: The Arena


OOC: The arena's size is huge (sorry I don't have concept art :<) and is circular, so it's unlikely that we'll be clustered, but feel free to sit next to one or two people as those kinds of coincidences do happen

"The fuck is Valhalla?"

​

"Why, where you are right now, of course!"

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"Who are you?"

​

"I'm nothing more than your humble driver."

​

"Why am I here?"

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"To become a god!"

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"Again, what do you mean?"

​

"Exactly what I said, of course."

​

Prophet rammed the hard bone of his palm into his forehead in anger. Every answer merely opened the door to ten more questions. Peering around the seat at the mass of darkness in front of him, a deep confusion settled in his gut. Was I captured in my sleep? he worried inside his small world. No, this is definitely not Sitia. Liri doesn't have any ties to outside planets. So where the fuck am I? And who brought me here?


"We're here," the driver singsonged. Realizing the change in scenery, Prophet gazed out of the window at a dark hallway choked with a thick flow of creatures. Ahead, a bluish glare blocked his vision. "Welcome to the Arena. Oh, it's an unoriginal name, I know! But alas, the Emperor is simply an unoriginal man. Well, since it is your first day here, you should hurry and find a good seat. Don't want to miss the introduction and have no idea what's going on!"


In an instant, the door was flung open by an invisible hand and he was forcefully thrown out of the cab. Locking eyes, he heard the driver say, "And don't die too soon," before the door once again slammed shut and the cab turned around, rocketing back into the endless expanse. Prophet rose up onto his feet and followed the crowd towards the light. Seeking comfort in a goal, he temporarily forgot his confusion and squinted as he stepped beyond the mouth of the hallway.


Breath catching in his throat, he looked out upon the largest building he had ever seen. A vast circle of flat land sat in the center, encompassed by a small gap of abyss. Around that was a number of seats so massive it was simply incomprehensible. His eyes widened. Here, his large presence shrunk to nothingness to the point where he almost couldn't feel his body. However, when something slammed him from behind, his consciousness snapped back and he continued. In a blur of movement, he eventually found himself sitting down, looking out upon the arena and the question returned to him. Just where in hell am I?

 

[SachiGrl]

​

Large unblinking eyes with a yellow gleam peered through the vehicle's windows. They absorbed as much as they could see as they were being transported at an unfamiliar pace in an alien planet. Chordate, her home planet, the cities and ruins were made up of greens and blues, but Chordatians were what brought color to her world. Though Valhalla proves to be quite the oddly colored planet, she was excited to meet what beings inhabited it. Sueckra rose one upper cephalopod, pressing it against the transparent glass belonging to the moving mechanical vessel she was traveling in. Her curiosity was growing more and more about this planet.


Oh, la, la! she thought.


"We're here," the driver singsonged.


"Don't need to tell me twice!"


Half of her lower cephalopods were neatly curled above her non-cephalopods while the other half was elongated; she was emulating a high-lo skirt. A style she's read about in humanoid planet. Placing her upper limbs calmly above her non-cephalopods, she sat patiently awaiting for the dark manifestation to explain the purpose of arriving to this arena. She was, also, unaware of how to exit the vehicle. She cocked her head to the side as the shadowy figure spoke in its strangely cheerful manner:


"Welcome to the Arena..."


Sueckra let out a bored-like sigh in response to his welcome.


" Oh, it's an unoriginal name, I know! But alas, the Emperor is simply an unoriginal man."


With an annoyed expression, she nodded her head.


"Well, since it is your first day here, you should hurry and find a good seat. Don't want to miss the introduction and have no idea what's going on!"


Before she could ask how to exit the mysterious vessel, the door opened. She stepped out without hesitation and walked onward down the dark tunnel. She looked about the beings curiously surrounding her until she felt the cool air fluttering the pink hair upon her head. The skies were clear of clouds and the bright lights above the arena gleamed beautifully. The crowd surrounding her had a variety of races and beings. The arena's seating was like a disorganized rainbow with the variety of beings that were present. Her inner water bubble gurgled within her gill chambers; if her people, the Chordations, were here, they would be able to sense her excitement using their water mantra.


Walking with her two non-cephalopod limbs, Sueckra's lower cephalopod limbs curled slightly higher at the ends as she entered the arena from the West. So far, she did not find anyone worth mingling with, but she kept her eyes peeled for any potentially intriguing folks.

With: ---


At: Valhalla (The Arena)

OOC: *Dances Excitably*
​

 

[amybri18]

[/URL]

With: N/A


At: The Arena


OOC: Found some time! Yay!

Soon enough, the weird, high-tech transporting system arrived at wherever it heading. To be fair, Corelina still had pretty much no clue what was going on. All she could think about was the fact that someone had found her and took her away. That's pretty much an outlaw's worst nightmare - getting caught. When was this terrible turn of events going to end?


"We're here," the driver announced, almost as if he was singing.


She frowned. Up until this point, Coral hadn't really been paying attention, but it seemed like the driver was trying to make a conversation with her. Finally... she thought. Maybe I get an explanation now... "Where are we, exactly?"


"Welcome to the Arena," he replied. "Oh, it's an unoriginal name, I know! But alas, the Emperor is simply an unoriginal man. Well, since it is your first day here, you should hurry and find a good seat. Don't want to miss the introduction and have no idea what's going on!"


Coral frowned again. "What the heck are you talking about?! Who is the Emperor? What is the Arena? Why am I here? What introduction? Why can't you just explain what's going on? D-did you bring me here...?" But it seemed like he just ignored all her questions, because the door magically flung open, prompting the nayivi the leave the vehicle.


The door's slammed shut, just after the dude said, "And don't die too soon."


Once again, Coral frowned. "D-die?" The vehicle sped away. The Blue Diyamond bit her lip, as she turned around and entered the weirdly-futuristic building, with a flat circler piece of land in the middle and millions of seats all around the outside. Surely this had to be Closki, right? There was no way it was anywhere else on Elementria, unless... What if she wasn't on Elementria anymore? No, that can't be right. How could she just leave Elementria? Elementria was everywhere and everything, there was nothing else around, right? Maybe she was wrong, maybe there was a world beyond Elementria. She didn't like to think about it.


Corelina rushed up to a seat and sat down, around no-one else. Just stay calm, Coral, everything will be fine...

 

[Grin]

@Swimswamswom


[/size]


[/color][/font]

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{/slide}


[/accordion]​

"Damn", Gaunt mutters to himself under his breath. He's never quite understood how KOZMO does what it does, but that hasn't stopped the plucky little computer-pad from completely analyzing and duplicating the meta-powered effects of any subject. The Lyran driving this sleek and pitch-black transport vehicle turns out to be the first exception. Hells take me if he's not the only one I encounter, thinks Gaunt.


With no other avenue available to him, Gaunt looks out the window. An endless abyss, dotted with new and unfamiliar constellations, gazes back. One celestial body stands out even as it grows ever closer; clearly this glittering gem was their destination.


The landing process is surprisingly smooth and quick. The craft manages to touch ground with only the slightest bump. Gaunt looks out the window at something he remembers from his childhood - a gladiator arena. Oh, he's never seen this one, obviously, but once a being spends its formative years in the center of a bloodthirsty crowd, there's no mistaking its macabre grandeur. He puts the pieces together and realizes what's going on here...


He is to fight, kill, and potentially die for the amusement of others.


The gladiator pits of Gaunt's youth were a shocking mix of gorgeous and horrifying, and he supposed this place would be no exception. Patrons of the pits would find every flavor of vice, available for convenient purchase from their comfortable seats - food, drugs, a myriad melange of pleasures both conceivable and unthinkable, and of course, the clothing and items with faces of gladiators printed upon them. Meanwhile, the conscripted chattel spent entirely too much of their already-short lives trapped away in the bloodstained catacombs, among the stink of animals and death. Companionship with others was a fast-and-loose affair, because you never knew who was going to die next - or if you would be the one picked to kill them. Gaunt lost his virginity to a young lady-being he would kill less than one lunar cycle afterwards; to this day he cannot consummate physical affection without feeling a corpse-in-waiting upon his manhood.


History makes us all what we are, yet this history was not one Gaunt was comfortable repeating.


The golden dirge of the Lyran's voice belts out a merry song: "Welcome to the Arena. Oh, it's an unoriginal name, I know! But alas, the Emperor is simply an unoriginal man."


Gaunt scoffs. "Gladiator combat? Unoriginal? Pffft." Gaunt leans back and slips KOZMO back into his breast pocket. "A culture that invents cross-dimensional abduction before they invent cartoons deserves at least some credit for originality."


The Lyran ignores this. "Well, since it is your first day here, you should hurry and find a good seat. Don't want to miss the introduction and have no idea what's going on!" Oh, I know what's going on, thinks Gaunt. "Unoriginal" doesn't even begin to describe this setup. Celestial beings, whose incomprehensible power has done nothing to temper their boredom, will act as children putting bugs in jars - with the added promise that, if the bug simply kills enough other bugs, they will someday be addressed as more-than-a-bug. Ascension doesn't change the nature of intelligence, it only escalates it to a more toxic echelon.


Ancient childhood instincts begin to surface. Again, there was little point in making friends, since the scattered beings taking seats are most likely in the same situation he's in. Then again, the whole point of making friends in the gladiator pits was to gain hints about your potential future opponents - while risking that they may discover too much about you as well. It's a decent trade-off for one who knows how the game is played.


Ugh, thinks Gaunt to himself, I'm already letting myself get back into the old ways. The Austrander's Code had never left him, yet Gaunt swore that he'd never again respect the Code's secret purpose - to make the enslaved comfortable with their enslavement. Instead, Gaunt's devotion to the Code would serve as a form of no-mind direction, giving him purpose when he could find none for himself.


It has proven thus far to be an effective survival tactic. He can always rebuild after he finds his way out of this mess.


"Don't die TOO soon!" sings the Lyran behind him, with the whimsy of a being who has never once feared death. Gaunt snarls his lip and growls a little, but doesn't turn to acknowledge the grinning cosmic jackass. He decides that somewhere, a Demon Lord Of Hell is missing his butthole.


Scanning the seated beings, Gaunt spots a unique looking individual, painted in water-shades and pastel fire from behind a wriggling mass of strangely alluring tentacles and pseudopods. Most of the others radiate an air of (in some cases forced) mystique, yet this being gives the impression of being almost thrilled. Perhaps this one knows something I don't, thinks Gaunt. "KOZMO, basic scan on the being I'm looking at."


"KOZMO HAS COMPLETED SCAN. DETAILS AVAILABLE ON KOZMO SCREEN."

KOSMO

them

Metapowers: Elasticity, Elemental Magic (Water), Night vision.

them

Physical Structure: Cephalopod, Female, Approx. 300-330 sol-cycles

Gaunt nods. "Excellent. KOZMO, process detailed scans on everyone within scanning radius and store to memory. I'll review them later. Do NOT alert when finished."


"KOZMO COMMENCING SCAN. ALERT HAS BEEN DISABLED FOR THIS ACTION. BASED ON ELEVATED SEROTONIN LEVELS IN GAUNT, KOZMO SAY GOOD LUCK PLAYA!"


"Shut up," retorts Gaunt, as he proceeds to the seat next to the strange magical water-creature.

[/border]

​

 

[SachiGrl]

​

Her lips puckered as she compared herself to the surrounding crowd. She deemed herself quite the looker unlike all these single colored beings. She found their clothing delightful. Unlike their skins, they added uniqueness. Sueckra believes she's the epitome of uniqueness. With her upper limb, she soothed her bright pink hair back then happen to spot a masculine creature beside her. He had a nice sturdy body and was purple all over. Even though he had single colored skin like most of the beings in the arena, she appreciated that it was a unique plum-color rather than the popular peachy color. Boy, humans were popular here. She has only visited aquatic planets, so she's never met one in person. With her back straightened and her lower cephalopod limbs curled a bit higher, Sueckra turned facing the large sui generis man. He had long hair similar to the color of his skin and his battle scars were excruciatingly alluring to Sueckra. She had to introduce herself:


"Oh," she said pretending to be surprised.


"My mantra failed to notify me of your presence. I'm Sue," she added a giggle and smiled.


She held her upper limb bashfully across her face, of course this was all an act. She was a very outgoing being, but loved taking an advantage of strangers and their lack of knowledge of her. She, also, loved pretending to be shy. She believed it was the best way to attract her prey. Now that she was looking dead at him, she caught a glimpse of his armor underneath his coat. Based on his physic, she could tell he could fight, but was he looking for a fight or was he overly cautious or could it be that he always found himself in fights. She cocked her head to the side and spoke before the man could respond to her introduction:


"Are you going to participate and fight in the arena?"


She looked again at his light armor worn underneath his coat and saw something else that may have resembled a gun or some metallic weapon. Her lips pursed with an aroused interest. Subconsciously, she swiped her hair across her forehead with the back of her upper limb and she returned her gaze to his piercing eyes.

With: Gaunt Kindel

@Grin


At: Valhalla (The Arena)

OOC: Oh la la~
​

 

[deadpool42]

Dante J. Iscariot



​

[/FONT] [FONT=arial]

With: @Swimswamswom


At: The Arena, Valhalla


OOC: Hello everybody!

The Saint sat sanatively, in one distinct seat amongst what seemed like millions, crowded into the rows of an amphitheatre that seemed to have been made by Hekatonkheires. He-- for today, the coin the Saint flipped to settle upon a preferred gender for the day had landed on the virile obverse-- was cross-legged, his eyes closed, back straight, forearms resting on knees, the tips of his middlefingers touched to his thumbs. The purpose of this state of meditation was not outwardly apparent, although for anyone who might have known or met Dante, it would be fairly obvious: he was meditating. Not more than twenty minutes ago, he had awoken in a cab, the coffers of his brain devoid of any history leading up to that point in time. His apparent chauffeur had been one of two things: an individual deeply obscured by shadow, or simply an entity whose physiology was shadow.


Whichever the case, it had informed the Saint that he was in a place called Valhalla (a statement of dubious veracity, as this city, however extraordinary, certainly didn't resemble any Valhalla of the Norse) and asked if Dante wanted to become a god. The mage had replied he wasn't particularly interested, however that he wouldn't mind being able to go home. The umbrifer had had a chuckle at that, as though it were a joke, and then, before any further colloquy could occur, requested that the Saint not die too quickly, before expelling him from vehicle and down onto a crowd-packed terrace that jutted out from the coliseum's seating galleries, like a lone leaf on the edge of a tidal wave. From there, Dante had navigated to where he presently sat, mostly in an attempt not to be trampled by the population surrounding him.


Whilst in the process of trying to puzzle through all this data, commissioning the neuron-artisans of his grey matter to weave coherent tapestries and paint understandable pictures of his present situation out of the threads and the acrylics of this barrage of information that had been deluged upon him, a man was rather roughly extruded from the crowd, their wavering, pulsating bodies functioning like the sphincters of a throat, and in a daze sat down beside the Saint.
​

 

[Grin]

​

KOZMO ONLINE


>>STATUS REPORT [Y/N]?_

STATUS REPORT

​

L20: Location


CTY: [uNKNOWN]


PLN: Valhalla (extrapolated)


OBJ: Processing detailed scan of locals


!!!: Subject SUE body chemistry inconsistent with physical emotes - proceed with caution

HDD1: *empty*


HDD2: *empty*


HDD3: *empty*

KOZMOBATT: 96%

Subject GAUNT has arrived at unknown destination. KOZMO placed in detailed scan mode. Subject SUE has introduced herself to Subject GAUNT via flirtatious emotes.





Tags: @SachiGrl

"Are you going to participate and fight in the arena?" asks Sue.


Gaunt could feel a strange, pulsing rhythm in his chest as Sue spoke. A moment of sentiment, the stirring of long-dead emotions and a yearning for tender expression? Actually, THIS particular stirring is merely KOZMO vibrating a notification.


Regardless of the real cause, the answer is the same - Gaunt tends to ignore such things until they make themselves too aggressive to ignore.


Sue's question, draped in sweet innocence like a wolf in grandma's clothing, amuses Gaunt. Few things about this scenario are certain, yet of those few, the fact that they'd been brought here to fight seems most obvious. Plus, given the intricate nature of his own abduction - as well as the outward appearance of so many already in attendance, it's unlikely that anyone here is being invited solely as feeder-pinkies. This soft, exquisite specimen of feminine wiles manages to contrast herself from the others; delicate tones and persistent primping habits projects naught but the lightest of emotions.


Clearly, poppet, thinks Gaunt, You will be among the most dangerous.


"I'm gettin' the feeling like I don't have a choice in the matter," Gaunt replies. "And givin' up ain't in my nature. So if there's fightin' to be done, then so be it." Sue's large, glittering eyes give the impression of pure fascination, and Gaunt allows himself (cautiously) to believe she's hanging on his every word. "Here's what I can't reckon though... when's the last time you heard a story about a god that got press-gang'd into power?"


Gaunt rotates his body, giving Sue a full view of his broad shoulders and war-weathered features. "I mean, I can't be the only one they told to 'become a god'. They told you the same thing, yes?" He casts his steely eyes upon Sue's own. In a gruff tone, with only a hint of bemusement, he asks with the tiniest of smiles, "Tell me Sue... what sort of goddess-in-waiting are you?"

 

[SachiGrl]

​

Sueckra heard a sound vaguely similar to the bubbly sound within a Chordatian's gill chambers. To listen more closely, she cocked her head to the other side. Her hearing was not as keen as it would be under water, but she heard the periodic back-and-forth movement of particles belonging to a medium, perhaps an electronic device like the vessel she rode earlier. It had to be smaller otherwise the vibrations would have been greater. Once she concluded he had some sort of modern contraption and not a gill chamber, she returned her head to a more natural position facing the plum erotic being. She watched him like an owl eyeing its prey as he pondered a bit before speaking.


"I'm gettin' the feeling like I don't have a choice in the matter," he replied.


She didn't quite grasped what he meant by 'having a choice in the matter,' but she continued listening to him.


"And givin' up ain't in my nature. So if there's fightin' to be done, then so be it."


She found herself smiling at his strange accent and the allure of his masculine voice. She'd love to see him fight. In fact, she would love to personally fight him.


"Here's what I can't reckon though... when's the last time you heard a story about a god that got press-gang'd into power?"


"God?" was all she managed to say.


If she recalled correctly, the driver who escorted her to this arena did, indeed, mention about her becoming a god. She might of lost interest in the driver already and his mentioning of god could of went through one ear and out the other. All she simply shrugged in response to Gaunt's question. The only god she knows of is Poseidon, and if he truly existed, he wasn't in Chordate. That's for sure. She has fought almost every able'd being on her planet and she has no such trophy by the name of Poseidon. She imagined he would have made a lovely trophy husband. When the delightful plum man shifted his body accentuating his masculinity with his broad shoulders and his ingrained scars of history, her mouth shaped an 'o'. He then continued on speaking to her:


"I mean, I can't be the only one they told to 'become a god'. They told you the same thing, yes?"


She nodded her head almost absentmindedly then was taken aback by his next statement, but she regained composure fairly quick.


"Tell me Sue... what sort of goddess-in-waiting are you?"


"Hmm... so much flattery yet I don't have your name?" she giggled again, but a genuine laugh this time rather than the seemingly 'embarrassed' laugh she let out earlier.

With: Gaunt Kindel

@Grin


At: Valhalla (The Arena)

OOC: Hi, DEADPOOL!!! I'm excited for your movie to come out~
​

 

[Stickdom]

<p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_01/ErinaProfile.jpg.163cb546d48cdb0ae951cd141cbc0956.jpg" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="98370" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_01/ErinaProfile.jpg.163cb546d48cdb0ae951cd141cbc0956.jpg" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>

Erinas'stos Holarkkin
​

With: Her favorite, Noone @Swimswamswom


At: Ordonis Surface, Outside The Hall Of Sorrows


OOC: Let's do this thing!

It had been an exhausting time. The settlements outside of the Hall's catacombs were scattered and hidden, Erina had had difficulty finding any of them. True, stories of the young pariah had spread over the region in the past few years, but even then some simply dismissed them as another ghost story. They were usually the first ones to be taken.


After the cries of agony had been several hours silent, a glimmer of light took a humanoid form in a darkened corner. It stretched its newly formed arms and looked about at its surroundings with eyes that echoed the deepness of space. Being dematerialized and reformed took an incredible amount of stamina, and the eyelids soon drooped again as the body covered itself with pale white skin, and her mind became as open and blank as the Void from which she had just come.


Valhalla

The light flickered between a dull orange and a shadowed grey as if passing streetlights on the highway, which was not far from the truth. Erina's mind became aware of her surroundings, quite different from where she had fallen asleep. Orange. The seat was plush and comfortable. Grey. A voice spoke up from ahead of her, through a barrier like glass with a window cut in it. "Oh, you're awake!" Orange. Erina gazed uninterested at her surroundings, more curious about how and why than where or what. The voice ahead had a body attached to it, a large black mass that was not dissimilar to the pieces of Void that Erina was so familiar with, "Welcome to Valhalla. Try your best and become a god!" Grey. This creature was not nearly as beautiful as the Void, he lacked the depth of stars shining inside his body. Even though Erina wished to show him the wonder of all the Void held -this creature might possibly even enjoy it- she felt that now was not the appropriate time, and she was still drowsy from her previous nap interrupted. Orange.


They appeared to be slowing, then stopping, and Erina caught sight of a magnificent structure ahead. The vehicle came to a halt and the door slid open to reveal the entrance, leading to where Erina had no idea. As she stepped out onto the surface, the driver behind her called out, "Welcome to the Arena. Have fun!" And with that, the door slammed shut behind her and the vehicle raced away into the night. She didn't care, there was more than enough time to find him later, to show him what it meant to truly be beautiful. But now she heard what sounded like a crowd, a gathering of some kind, and that was by far the most interesting thing she had found in a long time.


Entering the Arena, she was met with the sight of thousands of creatures, possibly more, of all shapes and sizes, dimensions and figures. And they were all ugly, grotesque, it would be a service to introduce them to the Void. But, she had not the strength now, she had used up most of her powers in her extermination of a village on Ordonis earlier, so she thought it best to follow suit of the others. Taking a seat, she found that she still clutched her small walking stick in her hand, its bells chiming softly with every movement, and she amused herself by gently clattering them back and forth a few inches at a time, a rhythm in time with the pulsing crowd and its heartbeat.


Soon, she would devour them all, and the Void would be very pleased.

 

[Swoob]

P R O P H E T
​

With: @deadpool42


At: The Arena


OOC: sry for not striking up a conversation dead but i didnt think prophet'd just do that

IN HIS ENTIRE LIFE, Prophet had never seen anything like what he had found himself in. Aside from the absurd size and shape of the Arena, the air ran thick with a kind of power and electricity he had never experienced. It permeated his skin, seeping into his being and bringing his adrenaline gushing forth. For the first time in his life, he felt strangely, hopelessly small.


Beside him, a man sat solemnly, veiled in black cloth. Eyeing him subtly, he caught sight of numerous cryptic strokes and patterns embedded on his body, faint glows peeking through his robes. Prophet, being a sorcerer himself, immediately recognized them and a warm wave of familiarity and comfort spread through him – runes. This connection to his known world put him at ease, and he realized at that moment how tense he had been in his chair and relaxed.


That man was the only remotely familiar thing he saw in the entire arena, though. All around him, a frightening array of ominous creatures sat and discussed in a whirlwind of languages. Creatures with bent, impossible shapes, teeth the likes of refined daggers, and tendrils of flesh uncurling and bending, entangled in each other. But, no matter how ridiculous their forms, every being here had power emanating from their bodies as if their flesh casings couldn't contain it. It spilled out and soaked the atmosphere, creating the odd sensation that he experienced.


Then, as if having smacked into a wall, everything stopped at once. The artificial blue light vanished and the Arena became drowned in darkness, snuffing out everyone's voices. For an eternal second, there was a miraculous, unbroken silence, and the entire environment stood purely still. Just as Prophet began to process and question the new situation, the commanding boom of a drum ripped through the building and the ground trembled and cowered at its grand sound. Responding to it, the voices of the spectators shot up in unison with earsplitting screeches and he was electrified once more. The lights returned instantaneously and converged in the center, where a figure stood, their presence larger than the Arena could hold. Its enormous blue and white robes fanned out under it in a shining, rippling sea of cloth. Above it sat a purple garment suggesting all the royalty of its color and many beautiful gold pieces that scattered the light shining upon the being around it, creating an illusion of surrealism. Lastly, atop its head, it wore a cylindrical red hat with gold patterns – despite its unorthodox appearance, there was no mistaking a crown, the symbol of the king. Under the heavy wrapping of these grandiose accessories, there was no way of telling its face or structure. Its outline looked humanoid, but the mystery gave off a feeling beyond intimidation – it was almost akin to fear.


Suddenly, the robes began twisting and swirling, coming alive. Writhing and ascending into the air, they began to fall around a long shape and adjusted themselves to reveal a humanoid arm. When the arm fully extended in front of the figure, the roaring cheers began to settle and were eventually quelled. Finally, from this enigmatic figure, a deep voice rolled forth throughout the Arena, speaking so clear it sounded like the creature was talking right next to Prophet.


"I, the Emperor, would like to personally welcome you to Valhalla," it echoed, "the Land of the Gods. We have gathered you here as beings in the universe with power and fighting skill unparalleled. Here, and only here in the Arena, you may find the equivalents you so desperately lust for, and engage in glorious frays for all to behold. The final victors of such battles shall ascend to Godhood and receive true power to change the universe." The roar of the crowd rose up in celebration and was again motioned to silence.


The power to change the universe. Although the flood of information had been nearly impossible to believe and process, Prophet couldn't help but dwell on such an enticing prospect. To be able to shape existence... If this mysterious being's words were true, and he could win this series of battles, he could do more than liberate his home country. He could end suffering, strike down tyranny across the universe with divine judgment, and erect an era of peace.


He could get his sister and family back.


The Emperor continued. "I grace you warriors with my presence today for this purpose: today, there are many new fighters which have been chosen to join the bloody crawl for power. To those in this crowd who are but a day old in Valhalla, I invite you to join us in our competition. May you find the power you seek." From the dark abyss within the cloak rolled forth a shadowy substance. The cloth slithered around it and pulled back to unveil a dark hand, outstretched to the crowd in beckoning. In its palm, a small sphere of brilliant, intense white light came violently into existence. Suddenly, a searing flash struck hot pain into his eyes, blasting his senses, and in its wake, the mysterious individual disappeared.


"Now," his detached voice sounded, "as per the traditions of the Welcoming, let us bring in the Top Ten and hold our ceremonious first battle!"

 

[Swoob]

P R O P H E T
​

With: @deadpool42


At: The Arena


OOC: OK SORRY ITS HERE NOW

Despite the ear-shattering blare of the Arena's spectators, a single, wet footstep resounded throughout the building, followed by an unsettling sloshing of water. To the right of Prophet, on the lower wall surrounding the stage, a bridge formed connecting to a gaping dark hole. The watery sounds grew louder and it became clear that their origin was beyond the gate when a faint choking sound could be heard. The disgusting mixture of gurgles, wheezes and regurgitating noises coming from beyond the dark veil made his eyes water and stomach churn.


"Let me introduce to you our Number Ten," the Emperor boomed in his powerful splendor. "From the depths of the planet of Chordate, he arose. Sopping wet with the depravity and residue of his world, born from the lowest crevice of the ocean, he crawled out with a vicious hunger. He consumes all before him in hopes that his never-ending appetite will be satiated. Fighters, I present to you Number Ten, the one known as Üruk."


In immediate response, a single blue tentacle wiggled its way through the sheet of darkness hanging over the gate, followed by another, then two, then three. Üruk was a short creature wearing a sailor-like white shirt and a brown jacket. Aside from his pale blue skin and overly large hands and feet, he could've almost passed off for a beer-bellied human from the top up. However, from his head, concealed by a strange finned diver's helmet, rolled forth a tangle of tentacles that shivered and squirmed as though they had minds of their own. As Prophet imagined just how the creature consumed its enemies, his body shook in rejection to the idea. His presence assailed him with discomfort.


To everyone in that building, Üruk was disgusting.


After Üruk plopped into a position slightly to the left of center stage, the Emperor continued, unfazed, with the introductions. "From a planet long dead and forgotten, the being of boundless wisdom, the kinless sage, Hakkam, the Ninth!" Out from the gate, an enormous creature with a large, thick mane stalked towards the stage. Aside from some minor discrepancies, Hakkam was quite similar to a lion, save for three major details: they were twice its size, had an extra pair of legs near the front pair, and had no face. Where one should be rested a captivating marble oval. With all the proudness of their cat lookalike, Hakkam strolled onto the stage and rested regally beside the ridiculously contrasting Üruk.


At that moment, two pillars of brilliant flame showered the gate with orange light as an imposing woman walked up to the Arena.


"Next, the halfling with titanic hand-to-hand combat abilities! From Xegregantu, Hanna Xiomara, our Eigth!" With short, green hair, fingerless red gloves and and an incredibly muscular frame, Hanna looked more or less like a normal bodybuilder from the waist up. Her legs, though, appeared as if a whole volcano was trapped inside them. With each step she took towards the stage, the ground sizzled and crackled. When she finally took position next to Hakkam, the crowd was in uproar once more. It was clear this woman was a fan favorite.


"Hailing from –"


"Hailing from a human family of highest nobility in the country of Ecremar, Alsari," a smooth male voice lilted from the gate, daringly interrupting the Emperor, "a handsome young man entered the world of Valhalla and shook its walls." From the darkness, a single, glowing blue butterfly fluttered aimlessly out into the Arena, enticing the audience with its innocent beauty. Trailing behind it, out stepped a refined young man with vibrant red hair and a maroon cape and clothing. He certainly looked like the noble he claimed to be. In his hand he held a gold-handled black longsword, its blade enshrouded in a haze of butterflies.


As he paced towards center stage, chin raised high, he continued his self-introduction. "He was but a young boy when his journey began. Being of high social standing, he was instructed never to fight, else it would bring shame to his family. However, there was a passion in his heart he could not smother. At a young age –"


"WARRIORS," the Emperor hissed in his enveloping voice. "Number Seven, Rael Desiderius."


The swordsman strides next to Hanna and bowed, smiling. He was the only one who smiled. "At your service."


"Next in line, the Sitian who charmed an entire country, Rosea Malefica, Number Six!" On cue, an incredibly beautiful woman glided into view. She carried about her a similar air to Rael – noble, refined, and somewhat arrogant. However, something about her seemed to capture the attention of, even bewitch, those who laid eyes on her – whether it was her long pink hair, her Victorian-esque dress, or the strange triangle-marked ring on her gloved finger. Males, females, and genderless beings alike fell silent in the crowd and watched her with bated breath, the air growing stagnant. When she finally fell into place, there was a collective exhale among the spectators and the atmosphere returned to normal.


After her, a similarly captivating female figure began her walk across the bridge.


"Number Five, the famous Alsarian elf, Shyael Prehelika and her frightening companion!" With dainty, deliberate movements, Shyael stepped into the Arena. Her clothing, delicate and complex, consisted of a short white dress with a black piece on the breast that diverged into two cape-like garments whose insides were a deep blood color. In addition, she wore black tights over her legs and had many other similarly-colored accessories and armor. He hair, floaty and long, was whiter than her dress, spreading out in a sparkling fan behind her. However, despite her beauty, she received little attention. What truly grasped the eyes of most of the onlookers was the gigantic, shadowy skeletal dragon that slithered next to her. Shooting beating red glares into the crowd, it began to ferment a sense of fear and unrest in the air.


Back at the gate, the darkness covering its entrance began to protrude surreally. It pulled further and further from the gate and burst, splitting from it into a strange ball of darkness. Suddenly, it wisped into a shadowy semblance of a robe, and from it emerged an abstract skeletal figure. Just like the others, it paced down to the center of the stage, its body wavering, collapsing and rebuilding. "Here is our Number Four, a nomad who wandered countless planets in search of something unbeknownst to anyone. He has not a name, but some come to know him as Nocte Bellator, the Night Warrior."


Then, in a strange transition, the lights dimmed slowly, focusing on the gate, and the Emperor spoke in a lower, more serious tone. "Now, it is time to introduce the Top Three. These warriors have abilities unmatched, beings of unbridled power." After a brief pause, he continued. "A diamond in the rough, she first appeared and germinated in the prison planet known as End. Number Three, the Ultimate Piercer, Violet Reus."


The same electricity and excitement that could be felt previously in the building returned again as Violet stepped into the open. She had a curvy body and small waist wrapped in a bullet holster. Although her clothes were rather skimpy and small, over it she wore a strangely hooded brown duster that swayed with her hips as she walked. In her hands, masked in fingerless red gloves, she held two submachine guns which she holstered at her sides shortly after appearing. Her lower face was veiled by what seemed to be a compact gas mask. Her most striking features, however, were her blue hair and lightning blue eyes, so bright they seemed to glow with energy.


As she fell into place, the silence and anticipation returned again. "Where nobody else dared to go, he emerged. Was it his greatest feat, or his greatest folly? Number Three, A wanderer rumored to have originated from Sitia, the Ultimate Mage, the Fool." This time, there were no cheers as a fully clad man enshrouded in a tattered black cloak materialized from the gate. His gold-stained black armor allowed none of his skin to show through except his hands – a shocking difference from the previous woman. Held close to his chest, he grasped an absurdly large book. Its cover was adorned with a simple circle and a fiery pattern growing from it. It was a strange book, seemingly trivial at first glance, but it was brimming with an inexplicable power that could be sensed even from Prophet's seat. Almost as if he could sense him looking at it, the Fool adjusted his grip on the book, wrapping it tighter to his body.


"And finally," the Emperor finished, lowering his voice once more, "Number One. There is no knowledge nor record of his origin. Since he first stepped into the Arena, he has travelled in a straight line, leaving mountains of carnage in his wake. Marked by fear and adoration both, the Ultimate Warrior, Michael Trammel."


Of all of the powerful beings Prophet had just witnessed and the incompetence he felt before him, none of the previous Top Ten were near Michael Trammel. He was truly, incredibly normal. As the man began walking to the stage and the crowd roared in approval, he sensed not the slightest shred of energy from him. His face, appearing as though he had not shaven in a few weeks, had rough features. His long, jet-black hair was spiky and unkempt, and his body was very muscular. Aside from being somewhat attractive, he looked exactly like a simple, normal Sitian.


Until he saw his eyes.


In an unreal, fleeting event that could not possibly have been any more than a coincidence, Michael Trammel tilted his head over his shoulder and stared directly at Prophet. At that moment, he was smacked with an invisible force that threw him deep into his seat. Instantly, he could feel the power from this man swell up and pour out of the Arena, a presence that could never be contained by anything. For no more than a second, he stared deep into his being with painfully sharp, determined eyes, before throwing a few more glances around the room and facing forward again. Feeling as though a tornado had stirred up his insides, Prophet watched with glazed, disconnected eyes as Michael Trammel stopped to the right of the Fool and the line was complete.


Whatever this man's mysterious power was, it was undoubtedly terrifying.

 

[amybri18]

[/URL]

With: N/A


At: The Arena


OOC: ---

Just as Corelina was looking around the arena in wonder, the light's faded, and the world descended into darkness. She didn't seem alarmed by this, if anything she was just a little bit annoyed that she had lost the gift of sight. There was a sudden boom, then lights pointed to a figure standing in the corner, wearing white and blue robes which waved in the slight breeze. Above it was a purple piece of clothing dotted with gold, the likes of which made Coral nervous. She could see whatever it was would be from royalty, and royalty was the very thing she had stolen from so very long ago. At the very top of the figure sat a red hair, decorated with gold - unmistakable a crown. She didn't know who the figure was, but she was certain he was a king. Coral looked closer at the figure, looking at his face to try and outline the details. Problem was, she couldn't. It was clearly humaniod, but it was mysterious, and made her afraid of him, whoever he was.


The robes began to spin, dance in the wind, rise to the air, until they fell back down to reveal a man. Coral clapped and cheered at this trick, before settling back down a deep, clear voice echoed around the arena.


"I, the Emperor, would like to personally welcome you to Valhalla, the Land of the Gods," he announced.


So this [/i]is the Emperor that guy who brought me here was talking about![/i] Coral thought, as she watched the man carefully, almost on the edge of her seat.


"We have gathered you here as beings in the universe with power and fighting skill unparalleled. Here, and only here in the Arena, you may find the equivalents you so desperately lust for, and engage in glorious frays for all to behold. The final victors of such battles shall ascend to Godhood and receive true power to change the universe."


Corelina smiled. Finally, she had found a place that understood what she wanted, a place that understood who she was, a place that respected her powers that she so unwillingly stole. Maybe this was her chance - her chance to show the world that stealing that diamond was the best thing that had ever happened to her. And all those nayavi who had tried to arrest her would bow down to her, let her be, maybe even worship her. It was a long shot, but it felt good to think about it.


"I grace you warriors," the Emperor continued, "with my presence today for this purpose: today, there are many new fighters which have been chosen to join the bloody crawl for power. To those in this crowd who are but a day old in Valhalla, I invite you to join us in our competition. May you find the power you seek."


A shadow emerged from within the cloak, and revealed a dark hand, stretched out so everyone could see it clearly. A small, beautiful white orb appeared, and there was a flash of light, which somehow made the Emperor disappear...


"Now, as per the traditions of the Welcoming, let us bring in the Top Ten and hold our ceremonious first battle!"


She wasn't sure who had said it, but it sounded like the voice from before. Had he just gone invisible? Or did he teleport away, hide amongst the crowd?


"Let me introduce to you our Number Ten," the Emperor announced, still appearing to be nowhere. "From the depths of the planet of Chordate, he arose. Sopping wet with the depravity and residue of his world, born from the lowest crevice of the ocean, he crawled out with a vicious hunger. He consumes all before him in hopes that his never-ending appetite will be satiated. Fighters, I present to you Number Ten, the one known as Üruk." A disgusting, squid-like creature wiggled into the Arena, and took his place to the left of the stage.


"From a planet long dead and forgotten, the being of boundless wisdom, the kinless sage, Hakkam, the Ninth!" A large, lion-like monster strolled into the Arena, taking his place next to Üruk.


Flames shot up from the gate as a woman with short green hair and a muscular figure walked into the room. "Next, the halfling with titanic hand-to-hand combat abilities! From Xegregantu, Hanna Xiomara, our Eighth!" Coral thought she looked quite normal to begin with, until she saw her legs - they looked like actual volcanoes, and, as she walked, the ground sizzled and crackled. Hannah took her place next to Hakkam.


"Hailing from–"


"Hailing from a human family of highest nobility in the country of Ecremar, Alsari," someone interrupted, "a handsome young man entered the world of Valhalla and shook its walls." A single butterfly fluttered into the Arena, glowing and enchanting everyone with it's pure beauty. Behind the truly innocent creature stood a young man with stunning red hair and maroon-coloured clothing.


He looks... amazing... Coral thought, as he continued his speech.


"He was but a young boy when his journey began. Being of high social standing, he was instructed never to fight, else it would bring shame to his family. However, there was a passion in his heart he could not smother. At a young age–"


"WARRIORS," the Emperor shouted, interrupting the young man. "Number Seven, Rael Desiderius."


Rael made his way to Hanna's side, where he took his place, and bowed, smiling. "At your service." Coral found herself smiling back.


"Next in line, the Sitian who charmed an entire country, Rosea Malefica, Number Six!" the Emperor introduced, as a beautiful woman glided into the Arena. She had long, pink hair, a Victiorian-style dress and a ring on her gloved hand. She was pure beauty, that's for sure, and even Coral fell in love with her at one sight. She took her place next to Rael - the two charming nobels reunited once more.


"Number Five, the famous Alsarian elf, Shyael Prehelika and her frightening companion!" A female elf stepped into the Arena, and made her way to stand next to Rosea. However, Coral wasn't interested in her; she was too busy looking at the dragon. It was terrifying, even more so for a nayavi who had only heard stories of dragons from far away lands. As far as she knew, there was no dragons on Elementria, but some travellers did tell tales of them, so she knew the basic idea.


Coral was still looking at the dragon as something weird happened over at the gate and a shadowy skeleton paced into the Arena, as it's body took itself apart then put it back together again. "Here is our Number Four, a nomad who wandered countless planets in search of something unbeknownst to anyone. He has not a name, but some come to know him as Nocte Bellator, the Night Warrior."


The Night Warrior took his place next to Shyael and the dragon.


The lights dimmed and focused on the gate, leaving Coral with a sense of tension. "Now, it is time to introduce the Top Three," the Emperor announced. "These warriors have abilities unmatched, beings of unbridled power." He paused for a second. "A diamond in the rough, she first appeared and germinated in the prison planet known as End. Number Three, the Ultimate Piercer, Violet Reus." Violet stepped into the Arena, wearing little clothing under a brown hooded cloak, holding two weapons which Corelina had never seen before. She had blue hair and blue eyes which seemed to be filled with energy, and the lower half of her face was covered with some sort of breathing contraption. She took her place next to the Night Warrior, as the Emperor continued.


"Where nobody else dared to go, he emerged. Was it his greatest feat, or his greatest folly? Number Three, A wanderer rumoured to have originated from Sitia, the Ultimate Mage, the Fool." A man with gold and black armour and a tattered black cloak emerged from the gate. He was carrying a book, which seemed to let out a magical radiation, the likes of which couldn't be ignored. The Fool got no applause, almost as if all the spectators had some sort of a grudge against him.


"And finally, Number One. There is no knowledge nor record of his origin. Since he first stepped into the Arena, he has travelled in a straight line, leaving mountains of carnage in his wake. Marked by fear and adoration both, the Ultimate Warrior, Michael Trammel." A regular looking man walked into the Arena, a man who Coral thought was quite handsome. Not as handsome as Rael, though, he was a real stunner. For a split second, Coral caught a glance of his eyes, and immediately felt terrible. A strong magical force was at work here. She looked away as soon as possible.


The line now complete, Coral looked from the first arrival to the most recent arrival. One thing was for sure: Corelina did not want to fight Michael.

 

[Swoob]

AFTER SOME TIME HAD PASSED for admiration and other minor matters, the Top Ten exited back into the gate they came from and the proceedings continued once again. "Now," the Emperor prodded, "it is time for the first battle of the new round. For this glorious tradition, two warriors have been honored with the privilege to partake in this fight: Jeremiah and Hananiah, you may now enter the stage."


From the west gate of the stage, a tall human wielding a silver staff glided into sight. He had many pieces of jewelry scattered about his body, including bracelets, piercings, and a large necklace with a strange yellow stone on it. The small pieces of armor he wore reflected dazzlingly and scattered shards of light around him. A middle-aged man, he had a wavy brown beard and long hair that fell around his shoulders in scraggly strands.


On the opposite side, from the same dark gate from which the Top Ten had entered and exited, appeared a larger beast about 1 1/2 times the other's size. Resembling a human, he had eyes stained red with anger and viciousness and a protruding face with teeth like a bear's. He had a dark, brooding air around him. On his neck he also wore a strange necklace – a wooden U that looked surprisingly similar to a yoke.


As the two inched closer to the center of the stage, they stopped near the center and the atmosphere instantly changed. Staring at each other, bodies immobile, the tension increased exponentially until the air grew dense with it and the onlookers almost couldn't breathe. The moment it festered to its full potential, the Emperor spoke once again, breaking the silence. "Three..." The armored man tightened his grip on the staff. "Two..." The spectators could hear their ragged, deliberate breathing. "One..." Their bodies trembled madly with excitement and fear, about to burst at any second. Staring into each other's eyes, emotions swirled inside them. Their muscles contracted, screaming to be released.


"Begin."


At the end of that word, the world exploded. The two men shot toward each other and the crowd rose from their seats and shouted, waving their fists above them. In a vortex of movement, the bearded man twirled the large staff rapidly in his fingers, jabbing out at his opponent. Exchanging blows with staff and fist, the two lunged, twisted, dodged and jumped, churning up the Arena and bounding across the stage.


"As you can see," the Emperor narrated during the chaos, "this is what you shall partake in during your time here in Valhalla. If you win these battles, you shall earn points and inch closer to ascension. If you lose, you will drop from your position. In this bloody climb, will you prevail at the top, or fall to the bottom?"


Ramming his staff into the ground, the bearded man threw himself up into the air, balancing with one hand on it, avoiding a heavy punch from the other. Flipping, he grabbed the staff again midair and swung it into the side of the beast-like man's head. With a thundering crash, he flew across the stage and crashed hard onto the ground, his head dangling off the southern edge. Without wasting any time, he lifted his body back up onto his feet and stood there, poising for the next onslaught.


"ENOUGH!" the armored man shrieked from the deepest part of his throat. Suddenly, the cheering began to die down one by one and the spectators began to stop moving. A tense, anxious sheet of silence fell over the Arena as the man shouted from the northern edge of the stage. "Enough! I no longer want to battle!" The other man simply stood rigid, confused by the sudden change of pace. "What is the point? Why are we doing this?" As if waiting for an answer, he paused briefly before looking up and pointing around at the audience. "Why do we battle? Is it because we want to ascend? Because the Emperor said so? Why are we believing him? Exactly why would he have us scrape at and kill each other to 'become gods?' Is there any reason to this at all?"


He paused again. "Look around you! Where are we? I want every single one of you to look around you and ask yourself, do you even know where you are or who is behind this? This land of false gods, of empty hope, of bloody sorrow?" Pausing again, desperation began to creep into his voice and replace his anger. "Where are we? Is this ascension even real? I want to go home. I just want to go home!" He closed his eyes and took a long, shaky breath before regaining his composure and continuing his speech. "This place isn't right! We don't have to participate in this! We need to rise up against this cruel system! Let us take down the people behind it! Let us take down the Emperor! Let us –"


Before he could speak another word, the beast man was already upon him. Clenching his fingers around his neck, he lifted him up into the sky, staring at him with eyes blinded by bloodlust, and with all the force in his being, tore through the air and slammed him into the ground. His head cracked and collapsed into itself with a loud, crushing sound that echoed throughout the Arena, sending ripples of shock and confusion into the thick silence. The yellow stone necklace around him broke, and hot, dark red liquid sprayed out from his head and tainted the ground of the stage. For a long time, the only sound that could be heard was the spurting of his blood onto the ground.


"The winner of this battle," the Emperor announced, coming back into existence, "is Hananiah!" Although Hananiah lifted his hands up into the air, nobody said a word for a very long time. Then, from somewhere in the sea of creatures, a single, fearful clap was heard. Soon, it was followed by a few more hesitant claps, then more, then more. Once again, the whole Arena began clapping and cheering for the victor, but it was an empty, hollow applause.


For the rest of the night, though it lingered painfully in everyone's minds, there was no mention of Jeremiah or any of the things he said.
​

 

[Grin]

Sueckra Vinyl & The Austrander


a collaboration between @SachiGrl and @Grin


(((The following takes place prior to the Emperor's initial appearance.)))

"Tell me Sue... what sort of goddess-in-waiting are you?"

​

"Hmm... so much flattery yet I don't have your name?"

“That’s no accident. Where I’m from, there’s enchanters and devils that can harm you with your own name. You might have that power as well.”

​

~~~~

​

Sueckra found herself laughing at his comment. Sadly, she has only fought mantra users, so these ‘enchanters’ and ‘devils’ sounded quite intriguing to her. Goodness, she was ignorant. Gaunt probably has access to all kinds of information while she has only her experience under the sea. She was certainly glad he wasn’t a so called ‘devil’ or so she thought. She turned her chest towards him and pointed at him playfully as she spoke:


“Hmm… cautious are you?”


“Well, Mr. Mystery Man, I can only manipulate what I create, so unless I created you, I have no way to use you,” her eyes sparkled with interest as she looked upon him.


Boy, I wouldn't mind manipulating you… she thought as she giggled.


Gaunt’s stony face cracks a little at the corner of his mouth. “Fair enough. I suppose KOZMO would have warned me if you could do something like that. Can’t blame me for being too careful, given the circumstances.”


He sighs, then leans back in his chair, hands crossed over his belly. “Gaunt. My name is Gaunt. I think I was brought here to fight people, possibly kill them. If my guess is correct, so were you.” With the last sentence, he turns his piercing silvery eyes towards Sue. A gun-metal glint adds sharpness to his gaze. “That’s why I want to know what sort of goddess you plan on being.” With a smile, he adds: “Just curious what sort of fate you’d have in store for me, should my defenses be broken.”


“Oh, yes!” The thought of fighting made her smile wide.


“Listen, Gaunt, one thing I do love is battling. I’ve battled throughout the seas of Chordate and I have yet to become one’s trophy. Sadly, I don't think people of land have the same arena rules as Chordate.” Air gushed from her mouth as she recalled that she was no longer physically in Chordate.


She curled her upper limb into a fist and placed it under her chin in a pensive manner. She wondered of all the potential rewards that would come if she was victorious. With her bright yellow spherical shaped eyes, she is almost able to view more than 180 degrees around her. So many future candidates. She was curious about her own fate. With this in mind, she continued speaking with Gaunt:


“Alas, if we were battling in Chordate, your fate would be enslavement... should your defenses fail.” she paused for moment before speaking again.


“If I should fail…” her face scrunched at the thought.


“I would lose all my trophies and become… Yours.” Looking away briefly, she curled her upper limbs together unto her lap.


“But, that's not the case here. We’re in Valhalla not Chordate. Nonetheless, battling is exciting! The thrill of the act and the critical thinking it requires, I could never refuse. I feel life is too boring if I don't get rough” She threw a few playful jabs towards the air between them to emphasize her point.


“Wait. Who’s GOZMO?”


Gaunt chuckles a little. “KOZMO’s not a who, it’s a what. And a pain-in-the-what at that.” In response to that last sentence, a muffled electronic “HMPH!” comes from his breast pocket. Sueckra gazes curiously towards the sound of the electronic noise, then returns her eyes to Gaunt. “Oh,” she replies.


Gaunt isn’t sure yet if this “Sue” is everything she says she is, so just in case… maybe it wasn’t time yet to tip his hand. So, he tries to steer Sue off that topic: ”Anyways, interesting war story you have there… I’ll share a little of mine. Y’see, where i’m from… i’m used to gettin’ into fights with opponents who’d love to take me as a trophy, but never as a living one. Not that I’d even want to be taken alive by that dreckin’ predator filth. Compared to them, you’d be a goddess of mercy.”


Gaunt pauses and chuckles, sucking his teeth a little. “Be honest now... How many of your opponents surrendered willingly?”


Sue took Gaunt’s comment as a compliment and smiled. It never crossed her mind that a fighter may purposely lose to be her slave, but she highly doubted a Chordatians would stoop so low. She responded with this is mind:


“I don’t keep every opponent as a trophy. Only the worthy ones.” She smoothed her hair dramatically with the back of her upper limb.


“Most Chordatians battled me to enslave me, so they all battled earnestly. None have been successful.” She spoke with utmost confidence.


Sueckra gazes once again at Gaunt’s breast pocket, then looks up. Her eyes meet an icy cold glare. “Exactly the reason why your curiosity’s givin’ me some bad vibes, poppet. After all, it was sweet-talk that got me into this mess... Sweeter talk’s bound to land me in a whoooole bigger mess of Hells.”


He pauses and continues staring. Sueckra cocks her head to one side, puzzled by his sudden coldness. Gaunt considers that her curiosity might be distracted by a small demonstration; he wouldn’t necessarily need to show off KOZMO’s power-duplicating abilities.


Then, Gaunt grins. Sueckra cocks her head to the other side, relieved to see Gaunt’s demeanor soften once again. “Y’know what... maybe you should have a look at KOZMO, it’ll help relax the mood a little. Y’see, the damn thing’s as useful as it is annoying. Two main reasons I don’t need or want another slave following me around, which should put your mind at ease.”


Sue replies, “Most Chordations would be appalled if you refuse to keep me as a slave as it would imply I was not a worthy-enough opponent.” She shrugged ‘indifferently’ to hide her disappointment towards his comment.


Gaunt’s smile gets a centimeter wider, for just a moment. He removes from his pocket a slim white device, with a large glowing screen. Sueckra makes special note of the device’s smooth finish and symbol-covered surfaces. Gaunt holds it up to about eye level. “This is a KOZMO. It’s like a little slave only smaller and not made from actual people. OK, Sue, watch this, this is hilarious… Oh KOZMO… Say hello to Sue.”


A small, tinny voice, one you could swear had a sigh at the beginning of it, blurts out the following:

KOSMO

them

MESSAGE TO: UNREGISTERED BIOFORM SUE FROM: USER GAUNT SUBJECT: USER GAUNT REQUEST TO GRANT SALUTATIONS TO UNREGISTERED BIOFORM SUE

them

HELLO

them

ALSO KOZMO MAY BE TECHNICALLY A THING-OBJECT BUT KOZMO STILL CAPABLE OF HATING USER GAUNT!

“Quite a lively contraption,” Sueckra chirped, wiggling her tentacular club towards KOZMO dismissively as it slides back into Gaunt’s pocket. He retorts, “I know, right? Can’t tell the damn thing to say ONE word, without it shootin’ a million other words right back at’cha. Advanced artificial intelligence, from a dimension that forgot to tell its tools not to sass-back.”


At Gaunt’s bickering, Sueckra found herself giggling. Suddenly, the artificial lights surrounding them dimmed until it was pitch black and Sueckra placed her upper limb across her mouth to muffle her laughter. Similarly, the beings around them also muffled into silence. The arena was now like a graveyard. Only nature spoke with its wind and it had loose objects clatter about in response to its whisper.


At last a loud drumming echoed throughout the arena, putting Sue at the edge of her chair, excitedly waiting for the inevitable appearance of something magnificent. Her lower cephalopods twirled up anxiously as the arena brightened once again. Her vision was a blur before she could see an immense being with beautifully colored robes. She felt her gill chambers gurgle enthusiastically.


A king! she thought with her mouth shaped in an amazed ‘o.’


She’s never fought a king before. In Chordate, she was considered royalty due to her large collection of Chordatian trophies. The being was severely draped in clothing, making him unrecognizable. The pile of cloth could easily have nothing within it, but that king’s thunderous voice proved otherwise. Sueckra’s face was frozen in amazement.


He’s an emperor and he’s personally selected worthy fighters for me! she twisted her two upper limbs together and held them up against her face in a fascinated manner.


She stood along with the crowd as they shouted and applauded in celebration. It wasn’t too long until he quieted them and Sue returned to her seat, most of her limbs still curled up in excitement. Their reward would be enhancing her mantra, Sue assumed. She couldn’t imagine inheriting any other form of power. After witnessing the dull black color of the emperor’s hand, she twisted her mouth to the side in disgust while all her limbs went limp. Within moments her created, temporarily blinding her and he was gone.


No wonder! she thought.


I would cover myself if my skin was as dull as his… she leaned back in her chair, now relaxed and no longer showing much interest to the stage.


Sueckra’s eyes, back on Gaunt, now see only a blank, grim expression. His steely eyes, narrow and piercing, fixate upon the place where once the Emperor stood. His fingers, sharply tented before his jagged scowl, as he leans back in his chair.


Nothing to do now but be ready to fight... willing to die... and able to do so with another being’s throat in my grasp.

 

[Stickdom]

Erinas'stos Holarkkin
​

With: The crowd


At: Valhalla Colosseum


OOC: Looking at Nocte, A.K.A. Tall, Dark, and Spoopy


Tags: @Swimswamswom

Erina sat in silence while the Top Ten were introduced, her dark-rimmed eyes barely squinted open. The brightness here was as likely to kill her as any of the competitors, so much light, it was disgusting. 'We will show them the perfection of the dark, no light, none. Beautiful.' These elite gladiators in this cosmic arena, none of them were much to look at. They were equally hideous, even the alien features of Üruk were almost bearable when compared to the gross flamboyance and hideous narcissism of the half of them. One of them caught her attention, however, the shadowed figure with no name, Nocte Bellator, and in only a moment she felt almost as if there were an invisible connection. If emotions were considered an advantage available to those born of the Void, Erina would almost equate this feeling to love at first sight. 'What is this? Does mere sight of this creature stir such primitive notions in the mind? Can it be that we are somehow intertwined by the fate the Abyss calls to all the universe?'


This line of thought continued until the contestants had turned to leave as they came, and Erina called out in a futile attempt to overthrow the crowd's cheering to catch the attention of the shadowy warrior. But the wanderer known as Nocte Bellator exited the stage with his fellow champions, Erina's shouts left unnoticed and unreturned. She began to look about her at the crowd standing and applauding, Void take them all, they were too loud! A tendril of cosmic energy crept out from under her robe, preparing to make sacrifices of every being within her reach, but the Emperor's booming voice rang through the arena again, and suddenly all was still and calm. She became desperate to find where they had gone, the black portal was not unlike her own Void, but she could not sense what part of the black chasm it lead to, perhaps these blasphemous heathens were subverting its power for their own purposes. It would not do, this was unspeakable. Not even noticing the fight between the armoured man and the feral beast-warrior, Erina's small hands grabbed the shirt collar of the being sitting next to her, who happened to be Prophet, and she shouted at him with her child-like voice full of rage, "Where did they leave to? Where does that portal lead!?"

 

[deadpool42]

Dante J. Iscariot



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With: @Swimswamswom, @Stickdom


At: The Arena, Valhalla


OOC: The Saint is sitting beside Prophet, btw

The presence of the Emperor was quite a thing to behold, carrying the sort of ethos with their presence which made him tentative about, even mentally, referring to them by any gendered pronoun, believing that such a social construct was wholly inapplicable to such a type of being. Before long, however, the Promethean fire of curiosity that burned in his mind lead him to wondering not only who and what the Emperor was, but more audaciously, why and how they were, as well. Were they a phantasm of creation, borne in the womb of the Big Bang and nigh-upon omnipotent? Or had their existence begun as a more mundane being, which instead attained this great status?

These musings were interrupted when the Emperor began introducing the "Top Ten" warriors of the Arena, which caused a flood of ice down the Saint's spine. The violence and bloodshed that these people must have inflicted-- Dante possessed no exceptional abilities of divination or sensitivity, that branch of spellcraft was not their forte; yet, nonetheless, as each individual was introduced, he felt a pang of nausea in his stomach. What they had done was in the past, it could not be undone, and yet, it was no less grievous. The Saint did not hate these people, but mourned that the situation had arose that embedded in their hearts such fear that they gave themselves over to slaughter.

When Prophet was abruptly impacted back into his seat beside Dante, the good samaritan did not hesitant to lend the fellow a steadying hand, asking, "Are you well? What has befallen you?" and generally making certain that he was not harmed.

And then, the depravity and despair escalated further. The Saint heard the announcement that the inaugural bout of fighting would begin, and immediately clasped his hands together in prayer. He sent his hopes to every deity of every pantheon held within the memetic vault of his brain, wishing that this fight could come to some type of peaceful resolution; that it could terminate without anyone being injured, or, at the very, pitifully least, killed. But it was all for naught.​