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[TOG] The Floor of the Test [North]

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Wind blew over grass tall enough to touch a man's hat, causing it to whip and sway in gentle, rolling waves. The "sky" was mostly blue, partly cloudy and one could see the floating spire of Evankhell's Hell overhead with relative ease. It was eerily quiet besides the wind until the speaker's kicked on.

Numerous little cubes floated in the air, as a voice barked out at the broad landscape. "Mic test, mic test! One, Two, Three!!" A males voice, it was bright and cheery, as it boomed out into the wilderness. "Hello everyone! All the Regular's who have made it to the tower! We sincerely welcome all of you to the 2nd floor, EVANKHELL's FLOOR!!"

It echoed across the vast sea of grass, the sound of the announcer's voice everywhere at once, thanks to the floating cubes which spread out to do their part. "This is also called the Floor of Tests! Here we carry out the final test to see whether you are qualfied—"

The speaker paused for dramatic effect;

"To go up the tower...." It almost sounded menacing.

"The first test is simple, I'll explain the rules only once, so listen carefully. There are 700 regulars here. Quite a big crop this year, you are to take that number..."Suddenly that menacing tone from before, returned and with fervor,

"And narrow it down to 200. By any means necessary. The test finishes when that number hits 200. Good luck, you'll need it." There was a short pause this time, before the voice roared.


The test was on. Out there in that wide open yonder were seven hundred individuals from every conceivable walk of life, all with their own reasons for wanting to climb The Tower. Money, Fame, Power, Revenge, anything and everything lay in wait, at the top. And everyone was vying for it. But the tower is harsh, and their mettle will be tested in every way imaginable. Only the worthy will survive. This, was the purpose of Evankhell's floor.

This was a culling.

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The 2nd floor was the floor of chance. It was a floor of proving oneself and the drive mandated for the climb. Each person here had their reasons for going forth, for being chosen – Hyorin didn’t care. Their desires meant nothing to the horned girl as she perched atop of her trusthworthy steed. Her horned head canted this way and that as the advantageous shoulder gave a near sky eye view of the moving grass.

“Three on the left, two on the right~ I wonder which one is gonna die tonight!” The girl sang jovially, her hands grasping at the Wraithraisers thick hide in anticipation. “Why not both?!” Her hands threw up into the air with her declaration, before she purposefully tumbled down the large Crocodilian’s back to his tail with complete faith that he would not allow her to hit the ground.

Balancing at mid-tail, her own reptilian like appendage shifted to provide a better balance as a hand reached to draw out a flower pin that had been holding purple tresses in place. As they fell about her shoulders, the pin revealed itself to be quite menacing. From it unfurled small bladed segments with a pointed tip. It swing casually in her hand, as the girl pondered.

“I really wanna be a princess, Boots. You gonna help me, right?” The girl asked the large WraithRaiser, before her hand flicked forward, the whip lashing out to full length of 8 foot, dangling next to their mingling tails before it lashed forward as the girl shifted her position to face the left. It cut through grass and flesh alike, cries of those hidden within the foliage was heard, though their demise was not yet confirmed.

“You hear that, trash!? I’m gonna climb this tower and be the best princess!” Hyorin tantrumed to the sky, not caring who did or didn’t hear, as long as her words were said. “That means you gotta pass too, Boots. Don’t let me down!”


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And where she went, he simply was. Her dreams. no, her PERIOD, dwarfed the importance of any and everything else that could be, was, and is. He was her foundation. The shield to her sword. In a world of impurities and toxic intent--he was her filter. Oh what a mammoth filter he was. Some here would found solace hiding in the tall grass in ambush, plausibly waiting to leap out at Hyroin's voice and do away with yet another combatant---Not a bad plan considering. Deuce Wraithraiser casts quite the shadow, as anyone in excess of 15' in height would. Needless to say just as he had blocked the sunlight that once basked their location, any "Ray" of hope of a successful ambush had been impeded as well. 

There was a symmetry here. He hadn't even taken his eye off of the lot of them as she slid down his back and toward the base of the huge tail in his possession that had rotated slightly as to avoid her traveling down the spines that ran along it's top. In that same motion it would have hoisted her weight effortlessly, allowing her a perch that extended her slightly forward and as she expected---above the ground. He'd never let her fall. NEVER. The appendage was at her bidding and at over twice his height in it's length, she'd have more then enough to work with to conduct her efforts. A Deep, harsh voice of gravel responded to a name she was only allowed to call him, "Of course short stuff....just remember what we agreed, No bow's or ribbons are going on me."

And right as she casts her weapon forward to do it's deed and bring about misfortune to those unfortunate to feel it's kiss, his own massive mits would have jutted forward for two stragglers to whom which were throttled and dispatched with violent twists of his wrists. -----while still balancing her on his tail. An indication of symmetry that should be noted by anyone foolish enough to approach the pair haphazardly. With certain finality brought to these two, her question was answered again with that gravely voice, "Wouldn't think of it...just remember," before standing up. and flinging the two recently deceased up and away from the two of them for some epic distance, "No Ribbons! No bows!" Clearly she has been threatening him with the decor much to his disapproval.

Edited by Deuce Wraithraiser

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And so, at the behest of the administrator, the predators set about devouring their prey. Such was the nature of the tower, though--in one’s constant climb towards the top, it was expected to lay boot prints upon corpses. The culling of the weak, while no doubt cruel, was all part of natural selection and the only way a lowly regular could ever hope to walk amongst the Rankers of the higher floors. Two such predators, already in the midst of their feast, caught his eye in the distant horizon. 

Best to steer clear of them for the time being, let the big one tire himself out first. 

The hooded figure was tall, if a bit broad shouldered, making it difficult to place whether he was a large youth or a grown man, but the shape of him was decidedly masculine. Arsene peered about the floor from within the confines of his hood, his lips pursing before exhaling a quiet sigh. He walked along the sea of grass, content in the chaos swirling about him. Despite his best efforts he could find neither blood lust, nor sympathy for his fellow regulars, leaving him in a quiet state of inaction. The end result was not, as many believed, to stack bodies--but rather to survive the selection process. With such a large entry pool, however, it was only a matter of time before…

He became dimly aware of a throbbing in his hand, a dull ache that grew to a burning fire. His body reacted, and arm drew up and towards his chest to clutch at the wound. Spinning around the hooded youth, leapt backward to avoid the point of a needle shaped blade aimed at his shoulder. An older woman, crouched and bearing the blade cursed and slowly advanced. Arsene studied her movements, she was a practiced tracker--otherwise he’d have heard her, but she did not seem accustomed to killing. 

“Still,” He said, his tone accusatory. “The intent was there.” 

She lunged again, this time at his groin. 

Prepared for the attack, Arsene sidestepped the strike and reached out grasping the base of the needle, just above her grip, with his left hand, while twisting and slamming his bloodied right fist into her nose. There was a crunch, a cry of pain and the woman fell backwards. No doubt there was some pleading, but Arsene didn’t hear it. All he could hear was the blood pounding in his ears. The hood tilted ever so slightly to peer at the blood dripping from his palm, before he flipped the needle into his hand, stepped forward and drove it into her throat. He took no pleasure in her death, but it made him feel somewhat better. Vengeance had a way of being cathartic.

The wound will need to be dressed. 

For the time being, Arsene needed to keep moving. Gripping the needle tightly, he slipped his bloodied hand into his coat pocket and veered left, slowly circling the first two regular’s he’d noted ripping into people.

Edited by paradigm

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“Bows and ribbons!” Hyorin squealed in delight, even as the sound of immense pain roared through the grass. “Hm. I wonder.” Her chin tapped with a delicate finger, the slightly clawed appendage pointing upward as though a brilliant idea had hatched. “Boots, take three steps to your left~.” The girl chimed, a slow smile revealing sharpened teeth. When the movement of the large Wraithraiser had been committed, the satisfying crunch of bone beneath his foot was heard.

“Jam time!” Her hands threw up in delight, before the whip had been wrapped quickly back up into her hand, her bare and clawed feet forcing her ascent to the shoulder once more as a penetrating gaze was made over the grass. The synergy between the two would suggest a background of longterm friendship, and it wouldn’t be at fault. Deuce had once spared her life as a young child, having wandered too far and mistaken for food by others of his species.

Since then, the girl had ruled his life with an iron fist. Yet, Deuce had allowed it with little complaint (Aside from his distaste for her threats of bows and ribbons.) he had endured her demands and princess-esque attitude which had only further been cultivated by his own willingness to serve.

A fine example was made as another body squelched beneath his mammoth foot as the horned girl used his shoulder as an outpost for viewing.

Arsene was noted, but his shuffle from them didn’t register upon what Hyorin viewed as a threat. He moved away, not towards them,  still –

“We should find a more defendable location. Back to a wall sorta thing, yeah? Onward!” A clawed foot rested atop of Deuces’ head in excitement as the girl pointed to a large rocky outcropping a few hundred paces away.

The gargantuan strides that carried them towards the outcropping made their arrival much more dramatic. They had likely crossed just in front of Arsene, having ignored his presence entirely for the moment in favor of defense – perhaps a good thing, too. A spear flew past Hyorin’s ear, the girl giving a cry of surprise as she teetered on her perch, before tumbling down once more. “Ack!”

“The hell was that?! IMMA EAT YOU, YOU THING!” Her fist shook from her upside down position, having used her own tail to grasp Deuces’ arm in an effort to keep herself from hitting the ground.


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She commanded. He obeyed. It was simple. And usually in both of their best interest. As far apart as they were in stature these two were that close in personality. They took pleasure in similar things---Like the sound of breaking bones underneath his feet. Or How wails of pain from the 4 individuals he nearly halved with his tail that under the command to run toward an outpost, and BOY COULD THIS BIG FUCKER MOVE!!  Oh lumbering was the look but Hyorin knew how fast he was---Especially at the proverbial wide open throttle. Power to weight. Physiology. Fact that he could move in Bipedal or Quadrupedal manner, yadda yadda yadda...didn't matter, the more those who tried to fathom the how or why, the more time they opened themselves to be hit by the WHAT-THE-FUCK IZZ-THAT!!!??

That Spear paused him tho. It Whizzed past her--and him. He'd have come to a screeching halt with those wide black eyes and crimson orbs looking to her before down to the spear thrower she berated--who was a little lost for words and even more assed out then a stripper on a saturday evening. Any closer to the fellow regulars face and Deuce would be making out with the guy. "So you like to throw things....well alright."  

The young regular attempted to run. It was a bit to late for that. He attempted to scream!!!! Beg for mercy!! Plead for him to stop!! Was a bit to late for that to. The regular was plucked up within his  massive mitt of a right hand, while his left reached out to where he was aiming. ONE....FLUID...MOTION! And Tom Brady would have been proud. An over-abundance of might in his possession, combined with a reluctance to restrain and a total disregard for the regulars safety equated into a full grown man being thrown like a Spear---with a fucking rocket attatched to it. One could literally watch the figure get small over the horizon before twinkling into nothingness! "HA! FLY TURTLE FLY!!!!"

He chuckled and checked for her stability and safety before continuing to the rocky outpost..."Whattya say? Good throw? No?"

Lacernella Rubra likes this

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He had a fondness for strange noises. 'Ticks' or 'quirks' was the preferred nomenclature, but regardless of the name--the habit was considered strange to many. These little idiosyncrasies, however, assisted Arsene in his day-to-day living. They helped him get by, stay focused--to function, in general.  


His breathing evened out after the event with his geriatric attacker and his gait, while at first hesitant and erratic, became the smooth and measured pace of a beast on the hunt. The pair that caught his eye, seemed to have spied him in return. However, they made no attempt to approach, seemingly content with dispatching their current troubles and moving along. With the murderous pair, on the move, it seemed prudent to make smart and follow suit. Keeping his distance, Arsene slowly made his towards the pile of bodies left in the pair's wake. His chief goal was to keep them within line of sight, while keeping himself out of harm's way. His journey through the murder blossoms was interrupted by a hand lunging out to grab his ankle. 

Arsene's arm moved in conjunction with his body and before the hand could fully tighten its grip, the hooded figure dropped to a knee and rammed the needle into the meat of the unknown assailant's arm. There was a strained cry, but it was hardly discernable beneath the mound of bodies. 

"Tck." He grunted and returned to his full height, staring at the pair in the distance approaching a rocky outcropping.  

"H-hey, Mister Hood." A voice called to him from within the grass. "I-I-I'm not gonna hurt ya. I was just thinking...maybe we could team up, like they did. You seem to be able to handle yourself pretty well." 

Tilting his head, Arsene turned towards the source of the voice the blade in his hand raised and ready for an assault. When nothing came, he exhaled and clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "Tch. Why would I team up with a coward?" He asked, his voice remained passive, but it was evident from the genuflection in his tone that he sought an answer. 

"Better odds, right? We could watch each other's back." 

"Hrm. I don't want you washing my back." 

"No...I meant like-" 

"Eh. Either come out and fight me or slither away..." 

The grass rustled and the voice did not speak again. From the opposite side of the pile a large man with an even larger axe, barrelled towards Arsene flourishing his blood stained weapon as he charged over and aroudn bodies. 

"Hrrrrm." Arsene grunted. "That's more like it." 

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“No, you dumb boot! I wanted to eat him!” Hyorin’s protest was heard as the girl swung herself back up and reclaimed her seat upon his massive shoulder. As they grew near the large rock formation once more, Hyorin found a special kind of delight in that it was not a rock formation as she had assumed...but instead a creature so large it formed the landscape around it.

Excitement vibrated through every molecule as the horned girl’s slitted gaze widened in the joy that this could potentially mean. “Yes! YES! GET IT!” Her form suddenly launched, rocketing from Deuce’s shoulder as her clawed feet dug into the armor that the creature was wearing, even as it moved to stand, towering over Deuce even as it rose like a monolith to the sky. Her scrambling hands and toes dug into the soft, pliable pieces of the armor as her ascent was determined, she would reach the top of this mountain!

Whilst the girl climbed, the creature seemed not to notice her weight, instead focusing on the large Wraithraiser at its feet. Deuce, for his gargantuan height, only came ot the waist of the creature as it seemed to contemplate his existence for a moment, before it dropped a fist down in a sudden movement, straight for Deuce’s head!

“Move, boots!” Came a cry from somewhere on the back of the creature, it’s location not exactly determinable as the creature focused on what it perceived as the threat.

paradigm and Reign like this

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That sunlight had been kissing his scales all morning. Walking tall, kicking ass, taking names. Such was the way of the world, just moments ago before he slid to a stop and took it all in. The midget has gotten him into all type of messes. It came with the territory of how she was. Headstrong, fearless, not a care in the world. WIld. Powerful and free. Alot like himself. He'd even go so far as to say she may have picked up on his cues. That sunlight was absent now, and something just decided to walk a shit load taller then he was and the feeling that those cues were going to come back and bite him in his scaly ass, was all-to real. And it hurt.---Literally.

After standing there and watching everything unfold (Be it awe-struck to see a Turtle larger then he, or to much pride or being more Curious then actually scared, or both). "Biiiiiiiiiig fuckin Tur---_!!!"



A Shockwave from the impact of the Titan's blow rolled and roamed the entirety of the lands in every direction. Grass swayed backward, winds whipped about wildly, those of unsure footing and close proximation found balance hard to find let alone keep and were grounded. None on the battlefield however, would have a greater testimony to the sheeer awesomeness of that said force then the Wraithraiser--Who had ample time to get a gaurd up. Hell, he had ample time to move out the way totally considering but any quarter given would put him further from Hyorin.

With no indication of his current state, Deuce remains beneath the massive blow.


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A part of Arsene—that deeply ingrained lizard brain part, did not want to stand his ground before the charging man. His knee jerk instincts were to flee, something he fought with barely conscious effort. For, as much as his baser instincts demanded he run, his training forced him to wait. Arsene learned that through rigorous training and repetition, it was possible to adapt ones muscle memory to respond nigh instinctually. While he wasn't to the point that his body always moved of its own accord, he was damn close. 

The axe wielding maniac gave an oddly placed shove with his axe blade, a tactic Arsene easily avoided with a brisk back step. The horizontal swing that came next, proved trickier, forcing the tall hooded youth to leap backwards and pray for sure footing. 
"Eh." He grunted, as soft earth crunched beneath boots. 
Grabbing the axe, as he had the needle, didn't sit well with him. The needle, far lighter than the axe simply didn't generate the same kinetic force. If Arsene reached for the axe, he expected to pull back a bloody stump. Playing it safe, the hooded figure danced around the older warriors, using the corpses surrounding them to stumble the larger man up where he could. Now he knew the game.
This was where he shined, where his reflexes did the work for him. Footwork proved key in the wake of the crocodilian's rampage as bloodslicked grass and piles of gore tended not to grip the footing as well as unmarred earth.
"Tch, tch, tch." He clicked his tongue, circling back to where the attack originated. Arsene's attacker noticed this too and let out a heaving groan as he renewed his feral rush, albeit much slower now. Fatigue began to show, on the man's  weather worn face. Sweat shined off his brow and fell in rivulets down his face. Aiming a heavy overhand blow at Arsene, the man lurched forward. Eyes shut against the stream of sweat blinding him, mouth agape in an aching search for air, and arms above his head—the man was ready. 
With astonishing alacrity, Arsene burst for ward and slammed into the man's chest, ramming the up into his throat. Blood splattered against the side of his hood, as the man let loose a wheezing gasp and fell to the earth. As though on cue, the earth rumbled—promoting Arsene to peer down at the heavyset warrior. 
"Eh, he didn't look that heavy." 
It took him a brief moment to realize that the rocky outcropping the distance was, in fact, a living breathing fuck mothering humongous moving monster, but once he did , Arsene awarded it his full attention. 
Reign likes this

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