Voting has reset for the month of March. Valucre is in the top 10 but we aim for the top 3 for maximum visibility when people land on the home page of the topsite. If you want to help new members discover Valucre, vote for us daily.

Welcome to Valucre

Register now to gain access to the World of Valucre. Once you do, you'll be able to contribute to this site by submitting your own content or replying to existing content. You can ask questions before signing up in the pre-registration threadexplore the world's lore in the Valucre Overview, and learn all you need to know in five minutes by reading the Getting Started page.

Ran Iji

  • Content count

  • Joined

  • Last visited


About Ran Iji

  • Rank
  • Birthday 10/17/1985

Contact Methods

  • Yahoo

Recent Profile Visitors

1,614 profile views
  1. What would you want to do instead? You can talk to me in Discord. I'm about to go get some food though. So give me about twenty minutes.
  2. Thank you for letting me know. @Misty are you still down to enter?
  3. We're going to do one more practice round. I'm collecting data for the rules. This time, there will be a slight modification: No word count minimum. Low effort posts are still against the rules. I collected data from the initial fights. Which can be found here. The long short of it is, most of the posts were around 170-200 words in the fights, outside of Aria vs Dr. Savant where everything was on average double the length. Corban and Stone tried to do something different on Voice Chat which caused their posts to be lower than standard. I'm curious to see how things will go in the next practice round. I never received a fight from @True Lycalo. I was told from Robbie that you failed to appear on the agreed upon times. This will be your last shot to prove that you should be in the event. Sunbreaker vs Sings Through Pain Kasai Uchiha Vs Ataraxy Corban vs Warlock Mag vs Albireo Prestississimo vs True Lycalo Robbie Rotten vs Rhazagur Fourhorn Once again, use these practice rounds to help you become better at the format. I figure one more round will help everyone out. The response so far has been good. As always, if you have any suggestions try to catch me on Discord or shoot me a PM. This should be the last batch of practice rounds before we get into 'serious mode.' As with last time, Saturday will be the final day of the round.
  4. I still need alternates. Might have an actual spot opening up shortly.
  5. Welcome.
  6. Welcome.
  7. Joanna vs Ferroul Prestississimo -Yesterday at 8:00 PM Ferroul groaned, feeling the joints in her shoulders and neck pop as she rotated her arms in wide circles. She worked at each joint, relieving tension, and, once everything in her arms felt sufficiently lose, she moved onto her legs. She rolled her ankles, and then flexed and extended her knees, eliciting satisfying pops from the overworked joints. When she was finally done stretching, she let out a lose growl of satisfaction, and then stepped into her greaves. She adjusted her footing inside them a little, trying to get used to the sand both inside the armor and on the ground outside it, and when she was content with the results she strapped them up. Ferroul followed this up by bending over to pick up her gauntlets, putting each of them on and then shaking them, in a futile attempt to clear the grit from inside. Once they were as empty of detritus as they were going to get, she strapped them up as well, completing her armor ensemble. Preparations done, she turned to the figure of her presumed opponent. “Ready whenever you are.” <e> Ataraxy-Yesterday at 8:12 PM The sky was relatively clear. That was the first thing Joanna noticed. Not completely clear, but almost. There was one white cloud that floated not in the sky a little left to the island. Judging by the wind, she figured it would cast a shadow on them in a minute or so. Momentarily toying with her twin pigtails, Joanna looked at her opponent as she donned the armor. Going by the gauntlets, Joanna guessed her opponent was probably more of a meele fighter than anything. Either way, Joanna was about to find out. The warrior's two swords, a katana and a wakizashi, both strapped to her left hip, shook slightly with a familiar gust of wind. The gently carress that signaled for an oncoming battle. Joanna turned to her opponent, answering the challenge. "Ready." At the finish of her words, three of the black sphere's constantly hovering about Joanna blasted in to the sky toward the cloud. Their solid like existence breaking down into a gas substance upon reaching the sole cloud in the sky. Joanna herself would not stay still. At the same moment her sphere's flew upward, Joanna began to slowly make her way toward the arch of the island's rock foundation. This means that she continued to face her opponent, right hand grasping the hilt of her katana, back to the arc, and slowly walking backward. Cautious and steady: unrushed. <e>(edited) Prestississimo-Yesterday at 8:23 PM In her mind Ferroul questioned her opponents decision-making. Putting your back against the wall in a one on one fight? Maybe the opposing woman fought harder when cornered? She shook her head to clear the extraneous thoughts. It mattered not. If Ferroul’s opponent was going to put herself in a compromising position, it was her solemn duty to show them the error of their ways. Ferroul dropped one of her charged spike in the sand behind her, casually letting the heavy metal object sink into the ground, before taking off at a dead sprint. She unlimbered another spike, holding it in her left hand. The wicked metal object was about two feet long, and vaguely conical, wider on one end and tapering to a sharpened point at the other. It was made entirely of metal, and balanced well for throwing, for swinging at people’s faces, and for making jabs utilizing the sharp end. It was the last of these actions that Ferroul intended, closing on the woman and thrusting her weapon out in front of her. She held the spike like a reversed dagger, her forearm parallel to the ground as she stabbed forward, ready to impale the woman against the wall she’d backed herself into. Her right hand was poised behind her left as she thrust, ready to ward off a counterattack with her gauntlet or to shove her spike home if it found purchase in it’s intended target. <e> Ataraxy-Yesterday at 8:40 PM Joanna watched carefully as Ferroul began her series of actions. She watched as her opponent dropped some sort of metal object into the sand. It landed with a thud. Without a moment to pause, the woman launched herself toward Joanna at a "dead sprint." With the amount of armor the woman had donned along with the fact they both walked on the loose sand of an island, "dead sprint" would not likely be the woman's max possible speed. In fact, without some means of maintaining an individual balance to that of gravity, it would be impossible. For a moment Joanna feared the woman would slip before ever reaching the arch. Perhaps the woman had misjudged, Joanna's direction, considering the charge. By backing toward the arch, Joanna was by no means putting her back to the solid of the arch but toward the opening on the other side, so that by the time Ferroul would realistically reach Joanna the two would be separated by rocky bridge. Joanna still steadied her hand on the hilt of her katana, ready to quick-draw at a moments notice. Midway through Ferroul's "dead sprint," one of Joanna's Dark Energy sphere's that hovered around her launched itself through the air, unencumbered by weight or traction, at the rocky bridge, collapsing the bottom half. Rocks, dust and dirt would pour downward. Dividing the arch's side like a curtain of earth that would then close down atop of Ferroul should she not be able to avoid the downpour, having trapped herself with full throttle momentum on a semi-slippery ground. That single white cloud rumbled above them, slowly casting an ever enlarging shade upon the usually bright island. The whit cloud, was no longer pure white, but tainted with specs of black. <e>(edited) Prestississimo-Yesterday at 8:53 PM Ferroul watched with suspicion as her opponent backed through the arch, but she was committed to her attack. She saw one of the orbs surrounding the woman shoot up, and had a panicked moment to react before it impacted, collapsing the rocky bridge. She cast a positively charged spell on the spike in her left hand, and then drove it into the rock wall on her left with all of her strength, slowing her movement. She followed up by casting a negatively charged spell on her left gauntlet, forcing it to adhere to the spike. Her legs shout out in front of her as her movement was suddenly completely arrested, and she winced as the force of it wrenched at her arm. She set back down on her feet just as the dust from the collapsing rock settled in front of her, just a few feet away. She suppressed a sigh of relief, there was work to be done, and set about deactivating her spells. Her opponent was out of sight, and Ferroul wasn’t particularly inclined to chase her into whatever the other woman had planned. She left her spike stuck firmly in the rock face, and turned to one of the corners of the island, where a boulder protruded from the surf and infringed on the beach. She walked in that direction, intent on setting up another spike in its surface. <e> Ataraxy-Yesterday at 9:04 PM Joanna smiled to herself as no woman came flying through the semi-collapsed arch way waving giant metallic gauntlets at her. On one hand, she was disappointed the woman wasn't reckless enough to just bust through the falling rocks. Joanna doubted the debris would have been that bad anyways. Although, an exploding black sphere at the blinded woman had definitely been a possibility. Oh well. The Dark Energy manipulator glanced up at the sky, noting the darkened color of the cloud. It was almost all black by that point. Joanna shot another one of her spheres up to the cloud, but this one, as opposed to the others, remained in its solid form. The Dark Energy within the sphere chaotic and wild, bursting with enough of that energy to cause a small explosion in the cloud, forcing the altered cloud to release its content. The shadow was almost entirely covering the island, in a few moments the sun would be completely blocked out. Joanna released her hold on the katana, figuring that if Ferroul wasn't coming through then the woman had decided to back off. It wasn't like Joanna could be found through magical means thanks to her leaking glamour magic. A slight lift of her shoulder and Joanna began a steady jog toward the arch she had just attacked. Not close enough to get tangled in the resounding fog of dust, but enough so that she would be only step from it once the smog cleared. The amount of dirt in the air would still likely block her silhouette from any onlookers on the other side. <e> Prestississimo-Yesterday at 9:15 PM Ferroul looked up from her work embedding the spike into the stone as the sky darkened. Well that wasn’t good. She frowned, as visibility decreased. Okay, maybe now was the time to find a wall to put her back against. She couldn’t make the first move, not in the darkness, so Ferroul set to work preparing herself. She yanked on the spike once, to make sure it was firmly stuck in the rock, before stepping away from the boulder and taking a few paces to her left, setting the ocean at her back and leaving the rock formation at the center of the island in front of her. She kept her eyes about her, straining in the darkness, and set to work charging her right gauntlet as far as it could go, putting an immense negative magnetic force inside of it. There was a certain humming coming off of the armor that almost definitely spoiled her location in the low light. Ferroul wasn’t too concerned. Her opponent wouldn't have summoned this darkness without reason, and she doubted that trying to conceal her presence would do any good. Hopefully the massive electromagnetic field she was projecting would interfere with any ranged attacks sufficiently that she could dodge them. And if her opponent closed in for melee, well, they were in for a rude surprise. <e> Ataraxy-Yesterday at 9:26 PM A moment later the dust had cleared and Joanna walked cautiously under the arch. She poked her head out toward the sound of the electric humming. The low buzz of Ferroul's armor most certainly did give away her location, though because of the darkness Joanna was having a bit of trouble seeing the particulars. She could only guess at what the woman was working on, but the humming was the unmistakable buzz of electricity. Surmising the facts, Joanna figured it was probably connected to the woman's abilities. Didn't really matter. Joanna removed her katana and stuck it into the sand next to her. Better have that at the ready anyways. A sudden BOOM erupted in the sky, the cloud not instantly scattering but quickly expanding with the force of the eruption and the beginning to shrink. Almost. Digging into her illusionary abilities, Joanna quietly snapped her fingers and a version of herself suddenly stood near a (random) wooden crate. Even though the details would be lacking and the cackle of the illusions laugh would be an off low grade due to the lack of power being put into it, the crashing of water and darkness would surely hide most of the inefficiencies. The puppet, far away from Joanna's actual position, raised her hand as if to launch an attack. Almost ready. <e> Prestississimo-Yesterday at 9:39 PM The booming noise overhead drew Ferroul’s attention, and she watched as the cloud overhead expanded, and then collapsed in on itself. That didn’t look good. A faint cackle caught her attention, and she looked back down to notice a hazy figure standing a bit of distance away. The figure made a vague motion, and Ferroul prepped to defend against an attack, but nothing was forthcoming. A bit confused, Ferroul eyed the figure wearily, noting that it’s distaictly evil laugh seemed oddly out of character for the taciturn woman she’d faced at the beginning of this contest. Suspicion etched herself in her mind, and she concluded that she was being distracted for some greater purpose, either by the woman herself or some facsimile of her. Ferroul was more convinced than ever that some large attack was coming, and it seemed prudent to try and find some cover. The arch was the most defensible position on the island, and it made sense to head in that direction. Ferroul reached out behind herself with her left hand, and positioned herself so that the figure in front of her lay in a line with the spike embedded in the boulder behind her, and Ferroul herself. Ferroul charged the spike behind her negatively, causing it to repel from her gauntlet, and the force of magnetism propelled the two objects apart. The spike had nowhere to go, embedded as it was. Ferroul had no such problem. The lodestone warrior shot forward, fist outstretched, and she shot through the figure, encountering no resistance on her way. She tucked into a roll as the spell charging the spike behind her faded, and found herself positioned once again only a few feet away from the arch, and suddenly uncomfortably close to an unfriendly presence. Ferroul dropped into a defensive crouch, leaving the charge in her gauntlet intact for the moment. <e> Ataraxy-Yesterday at 9:51 PM It would only be reasonable for Joanna to have acted during Ferroul's actions. And so the warrior did, as she was nothing if not reasonable. The instant the "rain" began to fall was the moment Ferroul became distracted by the illusion. As the woman prepped to defend and waited for something to come, black rain began to drizzle. Harmless for the first second of contact. And then it would begin to seer like acid. Unlike acid rain however, the black rain was a goo like substance that stuck to the skin or material upon contact. As Ferroul zoomed toward the ilusion, she would fling herself into a rain storm of acid goo which would instantly begin to eat through her skin, weapons and armor. Furthermore, though her magnetic like ability increased her speed, it would still plant her someplace: an area that was pre-contaminated by the goo. The sticky substance, upon contact with the bottom of her feet, would hold her in place. Like some sort of super glue. Meanwhile, Joanna was the sole body beneath of the arch as well as the sole person who knew that the black rain was about to start. And as the humming of electricity, grew closer, Joanna figured the woman had begun to experience the excruciating pain of the acidic glue and was scrambling for the arch. With a click of her tongue, Joanna tossed one of her black spheres forward which instantly exuded a semi-clear barrier that would act to repel any incoming attack. Though it would allow for objects to pass through it in the opposite direction, which Joanna prepared herself to do. "Had enough?" Joanna screamed over the pouring rain like goo. <e> Prestississimo-Yesterday at 9:58 PM Ferroul grimaced through the pain of the falling black rain, rooted in place. This seemed like the end. She was about to surrender, when she noticed where her opponent was standing. Right under the arch she herself had weakened earlier in the fight. Ferroul sent a quick positive charge into the spike she had left behind her at the start of the fight. The weapon shot towards her gauntlet, the force of magnetism easily overpowering the stickiness of the goo, and as it flew at shocking speed Ferroul lifted her arm, guiding its path. She barely had enough time to cease powering the spell in her gauntlet and move her arm out of the way as the spike of metal flew past, straight into the archway, already eroded and weakened from earlier attacks and the black rain. The towering rocks collapsed completely, and if anyone were still underneath it they would be buried admist the falling rocks. <e>(edited) Ataraxy-Yesterday at 10:07 PM It was amazing the Ferroul would have the state of mind to still be thinking offensively as the acidic goo tore through her skin, every second adding more and more to her body. And yet the woman fought on. It was truly admirable. For normal situations, the woman's last ditch attempt may very well have succeeded. However, taking into consideration that the bottom portion had already been blown off, the amount of rocks to fall was lessened by nearly 30 percent. Along with that, there was no pressure of the falling rocks besides momentum, so when Joanna crouched down and the barrier she'd prepared earlier directly in front of her, placed itself around her like a dome, the falling rocks created a protective shell similar to that of a turtle. By the time that Ferroul would be able to realize the rocks had not done the job for her, the woman would be covered with goo and most of the skin would have been eaten away by the acid. Unless through some extremely miraculous means. <e> Prestississimo-Yesterday at 10:08 PM When the attack didn't stop, Ferroul yelled, "I surrender, stop the damn rain already." As she did her best to keep as much of an electromagnetic field about her as she could, repelling at least some of the attack <e> Winner Joanna
  8. I'll post it. Easier to have it all in one place for right now.
  9. If anyone has suggestions/comments, feel free to give them. They can be private or public. I don't mind either.
  10. Aria vs Dr. Savant Sings Through Pain-Today at 12:22 AM The professor turned around from his excessively intricate sand castle. The professor, based on his geeky thick framed black glasses and business casual attire knew that his appointment was supposed to now. His outfit seemed anachronous on the desert island, He didn't need to look at any clock besides the digital one he saw out of the corner edge of his vision in his little augmented reality. The computer in his brain used his eyes to constantly monitor his tropical surroundings. A little light behind the black of his brown eyes twitched as his perceptions fed a stream of visual data broken down and analyzed with inhuman efficiency. His flesh remained equally heavy. The doctor was a large man, standing proud and swollen with lean muscle, with a predators posture holding it at the ready. His dark brown skin was healthy looking without a blemish on his face or shaven head yet somewhere on his body this was not the case. The hand that gripped the wad of sand that glistened shiny and chrome in the fluorescent light. Man of excellent genetics and a machine of eloquent design came together in perfect union. He was confident about his new kingdom. The castle was freshly built. Magnolia-Today at 12:39 AM This was a dream. Aria blinked and stretched her palm out towards the sky, shielding her eyes from an illusory sun that shone, shadeless, upon a lone island in purgatory. The celestial winds whistled and hollowed in the spheres above – yet the air was full of that peculiar silence of a summer day. Lazy, thrumming with invisible life; the crash of the waves was hardly noise at all. The young girl left out a sigh and kicked at the dunes of white sand underfoot. This was undoubtedly a dream. Dreams didn’t smell like salt and sand. Dreams were meant to caricature reality, but this was perfect emulation, from the shroud of stars that ducked behind the brilliant sun, to the whimsy of the quantum field that rippled like silk stretched firm about the bosom of the earth. And yet this was a dream, for the man that stood there across the way, some 30 meters down the beach, at the gates of a castle atop pillars of salt and sand was nothing short of an impossibility. A large man, a healthy man, a man who married machine and flesh – yes, a strange man indeed. He was, must have been, a fiction. A figment of a dream. Aria felt the urge to take him apart. <C> It was a coercive, all-consuming sort of desire, the kind when a heart is set aflame with love, infatuation, knowledge that nothing would come close to the pleasure of its satisfaction. Here was love of an idea, a single driving goal: reduce this man-machine to his basest parts. Greater men and women may have questioned themselves, but to a child, the tug of desire is as good as bullion. Not a thought was spared to the origin of the desire. The heart, after all, was a mysterious thing, and its inner machinations were meant to remain enigmatic to those whom it compelled. <C> And so, just as he turns away from his fatal, ill-omened work, she indulges this desire. Red light flickers about her hands; the child smiles brightly at this. The mechanisms of entropy remain even in the fanciful reveries of a sleeping mind. The light flares into red aurora that wreathes the whole of her body, a cloak of constant, positive ΔS. It is thickest about her hands like gloves, once soft, now grown harsh and bony and sharp beneath the light. Her eyes flare up, segment, and quickly data flows in from all streams of consciousness, every thread allocated to the parsing of physical constants. A single quick motion – her leg rises, and stomps, sending an amorphous domain of order scattering into the earth. Equivalence demands her own entropy rises, and the red of diffusion intensifies around her as weight drops and perception speeds – and with that starting shot, she flies forward towards the man of machine at ten meters per second, the chains of gravity and momentum unbinding her as the air parts before her. <E> Sings Through Pain-Today at 12:51 AM He watched the thing closely. It was obvious that it was a reality deviant based on the unknown energy that coalesced about her body, focused on her hands. It bothered him, not simply because its promise of violence, but because of the mystery. Her eyes drank in the world lustily with dangerous yearning focusing upon him. It reminded him of the wild passionate fires that consumed the life of his beloved. Sudden rage took him and as she acted, lifting her leg into the air. He acted with machine precision, with a singular goal of devastation. <c> His right hand ripped the black tube from his belt, sand fell from around the object held in his bionic left. A glass vial of the Lilith virus colliding with the electro responsive contraption in his right. His mind sent the instructions, drawing from the cloud data to form the material into shape. As soon as his left hand met his right, his center of gravity would drop as he sprang into action. In the moments between the instance, the black tube would expand into the shape of a 12 foot long spear, held in both hands at an upward angle with its half set in the sand with its point against the opponents charge. The spear was point was meant to use the opponents forward charge, unbidden by gravity and momentum to drive it through her abdomen. <c> The cyborg sought a quick end to an opponent who brought energies he didn't understand to bare. He held the spear in both hands at the lower middle of the half so that enough length was left to set the spear against the opponents charge. The spear would be held along the right side with his left leading, with Chris' stance square and knees bent at the ready to stabilize the spear for the impact but also to react quickly if the spear didn't land. <finish> Magnolia-Today at 1:14 AM To watch Aria fly was to watch a sheet of paper flutter along the wind. That same sense of lightness – that sense of inconsequence – as if nothing ever mattered. And in truth, nothing did. A decrease in mass means a necessary decrease in momentum, and it was this ease of maneuverability that Aria cherished and held dear. It was liquidity, flexibility, and with it, safety. Water that parted around the rocks suffered nothing but a bell-like laugh, and Aria gave out the same as she and the spear cross paths as strangers. In the handful of seconds of flight, before they meet and the spear is still extending, her very being feels the elastic force of mass compressing and decompressing, shifting and twisting and turning in a maelstrom of change. This was not the change that nature loved. There was no entropy in it. It is stability to stability Disgusting. The construction of the spear, for her, is not a process with beginning and end; rather, it is a journey. As the calculations mount and she calculates the vector direction and scalar magnitude of the shifting mass, her flight adjusts around it, almost invisibly. Had the spear been an arrow shot fired from the machine-man’s feet, into oblivion, she would still have curved her path around it. In a word, Aria shifts ever so slightly to the right – the man’s left – and bypasses the point of the spear with a safe berth, narrow though it may have been. In the adrenaline of a melee, one counted inches as miles and seconds as years. <C> Hell, a single lost second might potentially take a few years off one’s life. Aria’s hands are set upon the spear, and beneath the entropy that wraps them, the spear would lose form; because of the malleability of the material necessary for it to undergo such extreme and rapid morphing, it is likely extraordinarily susceptible to the singular natural force of chaos. Even should the spear fail to deteriorate completely and uselessly into dust, the least it might do was decay the transfer of information along her points of contact, ensuring that he would be unable to manipulate it further. In either case, her hands grab and pull her body along the spear, and once within melee range she would stretch out an open right-hand palm, still blazing with red light, to slap him across the face. <E> Sings Through Pain-Today at 1:31 AM A looked of aggrieved curiosity struck him as her body shifted like a leaf through wind about the black spear, rapidly closing the distance. His computer made an automatic note of her flight capabilities and would take care to factor them in further calculations. Meanwhile his procedure adapted in real time. Like a hand that got too close to a hot object he felt her energies tear through the spear. He could feel entropy and chaos tearing at The ties that bound form into the malleable object. It dissolved like the sand beneath their feet into a long trail of black dust. A testament to this goddess of destruction he was meant to ironically destroy. This opponent was dangerous and he must see to her destruction quickly. Though he could not help but admire her eloquence in the deed. Yet he felt she lacked a certain principle. Chris would apply this in his reaction to the decimation of his weapon. <c> He did not focus on defending himself against the slap. Instead his left bionic limb snapped out with a lead straight aimed to slam against her right floating ribs. The arm was three as strong as a man of his size and struck fast in a straight line with perfect technique. He pushed off his rear right foot, twisting his hips in a snapping clockwise turn. His right hand came up to guard In a boxers guard as his chin tucked down. The primium plating of his mechanical left was resistant to paranormal energies and would glide through the red energies if they provided some sort of protection. His right hand coming up on guard would catch the slap from the right hand, which must have been coming from right to left since the spear it had just grabbed on his right. His right arm was flesh, and the area that came in contact with the slap would be affected as flesh might... <c> Chris was curious to see if the damage it inflicted upon his spear was similar on organic material. He could always build himself a better arm after all. He wondered if the death goddess he stared in the eyes could do <c> The same for a lung <finish> Magnolia-Today at 2:00 AM Momentum gain from beneath – cylindrical, manifest in the left arm. Machines were wonderful things, but they lacked the subtlety and complexity of motion that lay within the beautiful, inefficient chaos of musculature and limbs. Efficiency bred predictability. Aria cocks her head as her arm sweeps down in her destructive slap, and quietly mutters a prayer that her numbers come up solidly, as the beginnings of a great change coil and prepare in her stomach. The paper in the wind snags upon a branch, and a brute mass of muscle and metal swings up attempting to crush it into submission. Aria’s mind is a thing of great storage, but low active memory. All she sees are the points of contact, the brawl broken down into fundamental components of force and contact. It is something of a science, but the spontaneity of the human mind is what makes it great – the capacity of any one person to surprise the other utterly and thoroughly. We may all be cut of the same cloth, but as pieces, we are unique. Nobody quite understands us like ourselves. <C> The mechanical smashes into her ribcage, the inevitable outcome that she predicts – there is no time to evade, for it moves too quickly. There is no time to brace, for so powerful and forceful is the man’s intent to move forwards and upwards. The grand thing, however, is that she needs to do neither of these things. A man strikes at a paper with fist, and it merely bends – at most, it may crease; and the remainder of momentum is left in the limb, a phantom sensation that leaves one wondering if they’ve struck anything at all. Aria is a delicate existence of paper, and his blow that attempts to crush merely bends, and her nearly weightless existence is accelerated to incredible speed from the blow. Her right hand, in the meantime, connects with the man’s right arm, and this is the beginning of the end. We plant here the seed of death. Entropy upon flesh makes it rotten, liquid, putrefying; the density of the destruction about her hand makes it such that upon contact, the arm’s flesh liquefies into black gangrene and soft rot. Her hand plunges into flesh and delicate, porcelain fingers slide around bone, and grip it firmly. <C> And yet – what’s a little decay without life? The entropy that bleeds from her hand is reversed, and thick, billowing order emerges into the zone. The necrosis reverses, becomes hard. Though her mastery of order and chaos do not extend to the creation of life, it is sufficient to turn the primordial soup of fibers, the carbon and oxygen and hydrogen, proteins and amino acids into a plasticky substance that cements her hand from the wrist inside his arm. If the girl had been of a more mature mind, a more spacious one where morals and honor could join with combat, she might’ve been horrified. What man alive deserves to feel this pain? But this was a dream. Inconsequential. As her right arm is locked into the man’s own right arm in a twisted, sick amalgam of old and new flesh, his earlier blow lands and sends her whirling. Aria yelps in pain, but it is a glancing pain akin to being slapped by a switch. With her anchored hand serving as a pivot, she is sent in an arc above his head in a strange sort of flip. <C> Her feet hit the ground behind him a quarter of a second later, so forceful was his helpful push, but in this quarter of a second, a great change has taken place in her body. A massive change in the direction of entropy flow has occurred over the duration of that flight – the girl that hits the ground is no longer weightless, but rather heavy, dense. The young girl is now at a weight of 300 pounds with the force of order solidifying and crystalizing her existence, and with the velocity of falling, this translates into a massive reservoir of momentum upon which she may capitalize. And of course, she does. Order strengthens her delicate limbs, and so to convert her momentum into a forward throw, which would toss the man in turn over her head from behind, is simple. At the last minute of the throw, she’d once again liquefy the flesh so her hand would slip out freely and let the man fly forward into the sand. Topple giants with the force of a giant. A very, perhaps brutishly, simply strategy. <E> Sings Through Pain-Today at 2:32 AM What could a goddess of destruction take from one who had nothing! How could she break what was already broken. She introduced his flesh to the primal horror of death and yet..,there was no horrified scream, not even a whimper or a wince. Just silent hate, unbidden by fear or loss. The fell energies that wrapped about her hand chewed into his flesh. He felt it. Yet the rapid degradation of his flesh was nothing compared to the lick and lash of flame as he gazed at the crushed and warped body of his beloved. He screamed then and he needn't scream again, certainly not now. His flesh died then and he did not fear it's loss. He would give his very life to destroy the deviants who took away his wife. As soon as her red scored hand chewed And fused into the bone and her body arced above his head in that queer impossible flip he acted decisively. The cyborg pulled down on the destroyed arm tearing it from the metamorphosed unification using his Herculean will and low center of gravity. The Union hastily formed the moment before exploded into a violent splash of blood, bone and oil. Dr. Savant had already proven that purpose was more powerful than flesh, and what was dead could never die. What was fallen would rise again! Harder! Stronger! With his left arm still extended, the doctor would pivot on his rear right foot, following through with the clockwise turn of his waist and lunging toward where the death goddess fell. He performed an angry vicious left lariat that would come down at an angle to smash the back of her skull and neck with all of the power his two hundred and fifty plus pound and state of the art bionic arm could muster. The blow would strike just as she landed and with her body weight down and hardened, her ability to escape like she did the first blow would not be possible. He needed to end this fight now. Blood loss would not permit much more. <finish> Magnolia-Today at 2:55 AM Humans, perhaps, are wondrous creatures. In midair, while her weight shifted and blossomed into dense reality, the man – the dreamlike entity of some insidious darkness and tragedy – tried to tear his arm from her. His arm tightened and everything went downwards, and so great were the two titanic, warring momentums that the bone snapped beneath her grip, shards streaming between and scratching at her skin as the flesh fell away from her grasping fingers in a shower of blood. The young girl knew things of tragedy, she knew things of loss – how many years she’d spend with her own being missing from her life, soulless, unobservant, unknowing – but she knew nothing of pain. Only his grim, muted silence spoke to his incredible strength of will; it was a quiet that was painful. There was gravity in those few seconds, and her heart was nearly tinged with sympathy for this creature of the dreamscape. What tragedy her mind must have twisted him through. Aria pouted then, still in the midst her mad flip, as the forces within shifted once again. The removal of a pivot point and the addition of unexpected downwards force from his arm made her descent far swifter than either would have known. Her back hit the ground behind the man with great force, and the accumulated debt of entropy she owed to the world from ordering her own body would explode into the earth beneath her body, turning packed sand into things even finer; macroscopic grains become microscopic, shattering like glass with the addition of entropy, and the two would find themselves in a pit of nearly liquid sand that was in the midst of becoming a sinkhole; the ground shifts to become a depressed cone some five meters wide and a meter deep (and deepening with every blink) with Aria and the man at the rapidly sloping center. <c> If the man continued with his plan of attack even in this abrupt change of scenery, Aria would be still there, laying facing the sky above without a care in the world, though the soft sand had begun to half-bury her body. His strike was directed at her neck; with a sigh, she’d smile and intensify order generation, simultaneously hardening and brittling her body as more and more sand was rendered more and more liquid; when the strike hit, the few inches of wet sand that had enveloped her body would distribute more evenly – like punching a sandbag. It was powerful, but the friction and protection of the grains against each other and the metallic fist would render it nonlethal. Finally, the domain of order that she’d planted into the ground at the very beginning would come at them from all directions, along the rim of the sinkhole. Sand, when clumped, becomes glass – wicked, tempered, structured, rigid, and sharp. A dozen spears of glass criss-cross the pit at the altitude of the man’s heart. Let the dream man be pierced twice and thricefold that. Aria sighed, choked on a bit of sand, and closed her eyes in slumber. A job well done. <e> Sings Through Pain-Today at 3:08 AM The glance of the blow against the falling target and the subsequent impact created an oddly satisfying splash of liquid sand despite it cushioning the impact, saving the goddess again from his metal fist. His momentum and absolute dedication to the lariat would set him off balance and in the smooth descent in the pit he would fall face forward. The man machine would be put in intimate confines with the death goddess, their faces and upper torsos touching as they fell into the pit created by her titanic fall. The spears of glass were under fine control and despite his fall at least one might reach his heart and back if the others are impeded by his bionic arms and the remains of his other limb. Whatever the specifics of the damage, the fight was over and the doctors body would be let to bleed in a shallow pit. Even as his body drifted into shock and unconsciousness, the computer that was bound to his mind contemplated and calculated. This had proved...educational. He would meet this deviant again and next time, he would be prepared. <finish - good game> Winner: Aria.
  11. Is this half assed? Yes. I forgot to write the prompt to help out with people that wanted an IC reason/reality for their character. So, I'm going to do the best I can at 4am. >> The echoes of battle reach far and wide, and through the rhythm of a beat far-gone, the dreams of a select few have been marred. From across the land they slumber, the drums of forgotten wars linger across the planes to bring them together. Chosen for various reasons, perhaps just luck or a lack of, their sleep would be rough for weeks to come. There was too much to be learned for these fledglings, not even death would give them a boon of reprieve. They were shackled, be it on a bed of silk, or the touch of a soothing lover. Fighting was the only option they had. Dreary eyed they'd awake, newfound memories imparting reactions and instinct into their bodies.