Rating wars II: Electric boogaloo (Finals)

[Arch Lich Burns]

I am still in this then.

[vidius]

I am still in this then.

SQUEEE!

Now off the forums and to the type writer/wood processor!

[Quarg]

This is a Tag...

[Arch Lich Burns]

I'm...tired and emotions are a bit....hectic. I'm not finished....but I will submit what I have....I know I won't go to the next round...but it's nearly impossible for me to finish it now.

[PSychotic]

Six minutes late and I submit my finished, half polished entry! Here's to hoping that both fights between Donovan and Roderick will be memorable!

[Dusk9]

You were three hours early, Psy. Deadline's in 30 minutes......

[Arydra]

Anyone else anxious to read all of the submissions?

[M0rtimer]

And here we go ladies and gentlemen... The battles of...

Round 1

Battle 1: RunsAround Robert versus Psychotic's Donovan

Robert:

Robert felt apprehensive. Of course there are so many ways you can feel when you're essentially an enormous bug. This person was not acting like most others did. In short, he was not fleeing like a scared rabbit to the hills. This confused Robert, which, admittedly, is not difficult. Robert knew he was supposed beat this man to the ground. So he made a move.

Robert leapt, using two pairs of legs to propel himself straight at the mysterious fighter... only to be dodged, and kicked right in the head too. Reeling, he was knocked down with with a quick sweep from his opponent.

"You are... significantly less menacing than I thought you would be."

"Ksst kstt KSSST!"

"Yeah, that's just about what I thought."

Robert leapt up on all six legs, sending a arcing bolt of electricity straight at Donovan. Escaping by the skin of his teeth, Donovan managed to avoid it, leaving it to strike the flowers. The fire spread quickly.

Robert was even more confused now. The human was dodging his lightning, and now the floor was burning. He was getting a little frantic, so he began firing his bolts randomly at his foe.

Donovan made a flying leap straight onto the back of Robert, before leaning down to attempt a hold.

Robert was quickly descending into deep panic, scuttling about and sending lightning arcing off randomly. Donovan was beginning to lose his grip, and decided to get off before something bad happened. He took a flying leap off of the giant silverfish, but was mildly shocked in the process.

"Dumb insect, try actually fighting this time!"

He did not notice the fire that was slowly beginning to burn around him, not until it was too late. As Robert leaped into the slowly growing ring of fire around Donovan, the human's avoidance of the pounce led him to the edge of the ring.

"Oh. OH. OH NO."

Thus began the true fight, the combatants edging closer and closer to each other as the flames grew behind them. Donovan was swiftly getting getting a bit psyched out. Robert on the other hand was simply getting extremely edgy.

As Donovan began to panic from the constant arcs of lightning flying around, Robert realized finally that he was stuck in a ring of fire. In a desperate retreat he charged past Donovan, his shock-proof exoskeleton preventing him from being burned in this desperate animal charge. Donovan was knocked to the side, singeing his clothing.

"Hey, get back over-" *ZAPP!*

Thus it was that the electric flea defeated the mysterious fighter in the zone of the blooming plains.

Donovan:

A light blinks into existence, burning against the night sky. Its brightness grows and grows, fading out the other stars and blinding Donovan. Belatedly, he realizes that the light isnÔÇÖt a star, but a comet rushing to the earth. Raising his hand to block the blinding brightness, Donovan can barely tell between cracked fingers that itÔÇÖs rushing toward the spot heÔÇÖs standing exactly and dives sideways into a just blooming patch of sunflowers.

Spitting some sunflower petals out of his mouth, Donovan rises to his feet lightly brushing and cleaning to his clothes. He turns to try to get a look at the comet; itÔÇÖs been years since heÔÇÖs seen one. Walking to the craterÔÇÖs mouth, Donovan peers down and sees a scene of pure destruction. The earth is torn open, with bits of stone sticking out and tiny rocks broken off here and there. ThereÔÇÖs fire near the meteorite, but with nothing to feed on its quickly dying.

The meteorite itself is glowing red, but it seems to Donovan that its rapidly cooling down and becoming a smooth silver thing. Whatever it is, Donovan can tell its not natural. Suddenly, the thing groans and then slowly shifts itself. A Pale dull beige arm sticks out from the silver and grips the earth near it.

What the fu Donovan quietly whispers, as the arm balances the silver mass and an arm frees itself on the other side. A head uncurls itself between the two arms and a pair of antennas uncurl from the head. One of them twitches slightly, and an arc of lightning is shot not five feet from where Donovan stands.

ÔÇ£What the fuck!ÔÇØ Donovan shouts, jumping into the air. The thingÔÇÖs head snaps to Donovan as he trips up the landing, falling down the crater and tumbling end over end right in front of the monster.

Grunting, Donovan spits out some blood and flips himself over huffing for air. And sees the hulking monster with a mouth full of razors and two black eyes that still somehow found a way to glow peering at him. It sniffs and grunts, a guttural violent sound and then Donovan notices that those two large arms it has are being dropped out on him.

He barely rolls out of the way, and Donovan quickly springs back to his feet. ÔÇ£Alright, alright. What have we here?ÔÇØ he spits out, ÔÇ£A space monster from far beyond our small realm of existence, stuck in the ground and trying to kill me?ÔÇØ

ÔÇ£Roderick kill little man! Kill the liar! Roderick no monster!ÔÇØ it shouts and Donovan just barely has time to cover his face and turn as it bursts free from the earth, rocks flying out to cut at Donovan and revealing the rest of its form.

ÔÇ£Oh so it can talk too!ÔÇØ Donovan snipes as he takes a step away from it. The lower body of it was largely the same as its upper body: a mostly silver carapace with fleshy looking muscular limbs. Four of them, to be precise.

ÔÇ£Little man just like Roderick!ÔÇØ it roars and charges forward, arms hectically swinging. Donovan rolls to the side and backs up a few more feet. HeÔÇÖs got to keep his distance from this thing until heÔÇÖs properly gauged it.

No no no! Now weve just met, dont be saying things like that, Donovan shoots back, After all, I am a person and you are a monster. From space. Thats a pretty big difference right there, Id say.

ÔÇ£Little man smell like Roderick, little man kill before!ÔÇØ it roars turning to face Donovan. About seven feet tall, Donovan would say. A head taller than him. It moves in fast again this time, but slower. More controlled. When Donovan rolls this time it turns with him and he just as he rises thereÔÇÖs a fist crushing the spot where he was a moment ago. And then the other fist swings at him, killing all momentum he had and beginning a tough game of dodge the alien monster thingÔÇÖs fists.

Please, a mans gotta make money somehow dont he? Donovan grunts out between dodges. Now whats your excuse, thing?
ÔÇ£Roderick not thing, Roderick Roderick!ÔÇØ it shout, teeth clashing against each other as antennas twitch. A bolt of lightning jumps from them and into DonovanÔÇÖs chest, flinging him back and slamming his head against broken stone.

Fuck Donovan mutters as he tries to regain focus. Everythings a blur, but he can tell that the thing is coming closer and that he wont be able to get up in time. So, hes gotta think of something fast. His hands blindly search as his mind blindly races for an answer. He comes up with a weak hazy one when his hand clutches a small jagged rock and Donovan prays that it wont go in straight for the kill.

It doesnÔÇÖt. The monster picks up Donovan, holding him with both hands and pinning his arms to his side. ÔÇ£Roderick is not monster! Their deaths not his fault!ÔÇØ it hisses, squeezing Donovan tighter as if to prove its rightness.

Uh-huh. Donovan thinks. Like I care, space bug. The pressureÔÇÖs building on his chest, itÔÇÖs getting bad. His hand releases the stone, only for it to be caught between his.

Hey Donovan gasps out, Did did you know that the legs can be up to three times stronger than the arms?
ÔÇ£Why little man say that now? Why little man not give final words meaning?ÔÇØ Roderick asks.

Well thats because those werent my final words! Donovan grits out as he finally gets the rock between his feet and swings his legs up into the giant bugs arm, driving the impromptu shanks into its exposed flesh. The reaction is immediate as blood gushes out and shoots the rock out of Donovans hand. Roderick releases Donovan and he falls to the ground. Theres a flash of pain as he hits the ground and Donovan can tell that he messed his arm up, though hes not sure how bad.

Scrambling up, Donovan runs to the other side of the crater, searching for another rock he can use. He picks up a nice sharp stone with his right hand, the left oneÔÇÖs gone numb he probably broke it but that doesnÔÇÖt matter right now beyond him not being able to use. Turning to face his opponent, Donovan sees that the arm he stabbed has withered, the green blood within staining its arms, the carapace and the ground. Looking down to his white shirt, Donovan grimaces when he sees it stained that too.

But still, he smiles. He can do this. He knows it.

ÔÇ£No more games! Roderick end little manÔÇÖs life now!ÔÇØ it shouts, and takes a few steps forward.

ÔÇ£Ah! Ah! Ahhh!ÔÇØ Donovan warns, waving his good arm and making sure the rock catches the fireÔÇÖs light. The silver beast immediately stops. ÔÇ£You donÔÇÖt want to lose another arm, do you? After all, howÔÇÖll you kill all the little kids on this here planet if you donÔÇÖt got no arms? That just doesnÔÇÖt seem smart.ÔÇØ

It growls at this, and for a mistaken moment Donovan thinks heÔÇÖs got it, he has tamed the beast. But then a pair of its legs lifts off the ground and Donovan realizes two things: One, those werenÔÇÖt a pair of legs and two, he is well and truly fucked.

Charging the thirty paces gap between the two, Roderick starts roaring again and Donovan decides to meet him head on. Maybe he could dodge the three arms long enough to stab open one, or maybe when one of its massive fists pummeling him to the ground it wouldnÔÇÖt hurt that bad.

The first punch is easy to dodge and the rock scrapes across its beige skin, but doesnt puncture. The second punch is still easy to dodge, though he was still swinging the rock when it came in. The third was okay well it was pretty hard, but Donovan still dodged it. By the time Donovan narrowly avoided the fourth swing, he realized hed just screwed up bad. And then the fifth punch got him square in the stomach, launching Donovan into the air and out of the crater back into the fields.

He landed with a loud THUWMP in a patch of flowers, daffodils he hoped. Mum always said they were good for luck. This thing was too much, it was too big and too fast and too strong for Donovan to take down head on through fair tactics. So heÔÇÖd have to ambush it. He vaguely remembered that its sense of smell was probably pretty bad, it had to get up real close to smell him didnÔÇÖt it, so an ambush might work.

Lying still, DonovanÔÇÖs good hand clutched the rock and his ears searched for the noise of the thingÔÇÖs claws scrambling up the crater. They soon found it, a brief scratching sound that repeated itself for a few second and then the sound of grass being trampled. The rustling grew louder and then in the corner of his eye Donovan saw one of the thingÔÇÖs legs only a dozen feet away.

Forcing his lungs still, Donovan waited for it to walk closer. It did, slower, as if the beast was wondering where its prey had gone. Nine meters, then six, then just barely two. Two was where Donovan decided it was close enough.

Springing up from the grass, Donovan laughed and ran at the bug. It roared and swung a mighty arm, but Donovan easily ducked under it and then slid between its legs, stabbing and tearing the left two as he kept going. A scream follows the wounds, and Donovan turns to see that it had fallen over, two of its legs rapidly bleeding and emptying out on the field.

ÔÇ£No! No! Roderick kill man, not other way around!ÔÇØ It weeps pitiably, the intact limbs left intact trying to right the monster and getting nowhere in their hopeless task.

ÔÇ£Well thatÔÇÖs too bad because no oneÔÇÖs going to die tonight. I donÔÇÖt have time to waste with whatever you are,ÔÇØ Donovan comments, ÔÇ£YouÔÇÖll just lay here and die from the blood loss, IÔÇÖd imagine. Maybe starvation if you survive the wounds.ÔÇØ

ÔÇ£Roderick no die from this! RoderickÔÇÖs arms and legs grow back after three days! Roderick will find you!ÔÇØ

ÔÇ£Whatever.ÔÇØ Donovan responds, ÔÇ£If you can survive in Almari lands and find me, power to you. Though, just so you know, they donÔÇÖt have that many empty plains in the Almari dominion.ÔÇØ

ÔÇ£Roderick will find little man! Roderick will kill little man!ÔÇØ

ÔÇ£Sure you will,ÔÇØ Donovan mutters as he limps off into the sunset amidst a field of flowers.

Battle 2: Vidius's The Rasping Suit versus AccursedBiscuit's Tibiscu.

The Rasping Suit:

There are few sounds more imaginatively haunting then that of wind rustling through the leaves of treeÔÇÖs, especially when those trees encroached around an old, desolate, overgrown path. Once, a long time ago, this forest path had linked the cities on its south, to the capital that lay to the North. But the thick foliage and untamed wilds had provided a perfect safe haven for bandits, and other unsavoury characters. And as thievery and murder had become more commonplace, safety and survivability had lead weary travellers to use the path less. Early on it was said that the Dukes had tried to mount patrols to keep the path safe, as it was the fastest way to transport goods North. However as fewer patrols returned, and those that did returned half mad, or worse, even the Dukes had given up on the path. It was surrendered as a no mans land. Dark, empty, and cruel.

North, Always North. I am always driven North. North is where I will find what I seek.

Left to the elements, the once well worn path had become a thick bed of needles, tribute from the dark green and grey sentinel pines which encroached the forest track, their armour of pine shed to forest floor as each winter passed. The pine needles lay so thick along the floor now, that in some places one could lose sight of their ankles amongst the bedding, but what was worse was the treacherous footing that the needles created, covering up the over grown stumps, and gnarled limbs of the pines which wove across the path like subterranean snakes, dead grey in color.
The path was haunting. Alive and dead all at the same time.

I grow so weary, so tired. I need more energy. Fear rules here already. I need a fresh slate.

The path was also incredibly prickly, and to TibiscuÔÇÖs bare feet, the unpleasantness of walking along the path was helping keep all thoughts haunting wind, darting shadows, and whispered words from his head. He was determined to prove he could bear this suffering. After all, he had been through worse, and what was a little more suffering in the grand designs of the universe, when compared to the chaos he had already wrought.

Being a born again Monk was hard.

But despite the trials and tribulations, never for a second did Tibiscu regret his decisions to join the Monk orders. They had given him purpose, provided him with direction, and taught him humility. The monks had taught him not just how to survive, but how to live. And so now, alone in this forest, Tibiscu tried to live. He closed his eyes and tried to appreciate the moment in all its stark beauty. He listened to the sound of the wind as it rustled through the ancient pines, each trunk hundreds of years old, their vigil of this path unending. Tibiscu wondered what tales the ancient guardians of the path could tell, if only they could give voice.

If only he had had more time, time to visit the other temples. Perhaps then maybe he could have learned not just how to dance with fire, sing with electricity, and shape with ice, but also how to talk with nature.

Soon.. Soon.. I can sense you.. Can you hear me.. Can you hear me coming..

Tibiscu stopped to look up at one of the giant pines, the largest in this stretch of road. Its trunk was thicker then he could wrap his arms, probably twice over. Reaching out a hand Tibiscu felt the mottled grey wood, his fingers tracing the contours of the trees bark; feelings the ridges that had stretched with the trunk as it grew ever higher, questing for sunlight. He breathed in the earthy scent of the forest track, dirt and mud, mixed with the almost sweet scent of pine needles. He could hear nocturnal calls from birds further of into the forest, was it night already? Perhaps the unending darkness meant that the creatures didnÔÇÖt care. Tibiscu closed his eyes and embraced the forest with all his senses, and for a moment he knew peace. Blissful, tranquil, serene, peace.
ÔÇ£One day pine, like you, IÔÇÖll be the tallest tree in the forest. And when I am, IÔÇÖll use my strength for good.ÔÇØ Tibiscu whispered to himself. Then he realized he was talking to a tree and he felt slightly abashed.

Scrape The noise shattered the peace of the forest like nails down a chalk board. Years of training kicked in to gear and instantly Tibiscu whirled around to face the direction the noise had come from.
Screech A long sorrowful sound, like old rusted hinges on a gate, blowing desolately in the wind. Involuntarily the image of an abandoned house came to TibiscuÔÇÖs mind to match the sound. Somehow he knew the inhabitants were dead.
Rrriiiiiinnnggg All around him the sound seemed to come now. This new sound had invaded the forest, shattering the tranquillity. Even the trees no longer whispered there haunting song in the wind.
Was it growing darker? No, just a trick of the mind. A cold sweat had broken down TibisucÔÇÖs neck. What was happening to him?

clomp. Screechhhhh. Thump. Screechhhhh. Clomp. Screechhhhh. The sounds grew closer now, coming up the track behind him.
ÔÇ£Show yourself!ÔÇØ Tibiscu took up a fighting stance, his body parallel to the track so heÔÇÖd be a smaller target, knees slightly bent, one arm high, one low.
Yes. YouÔÇÖll do nicely.
Screech. Scrape. Screech.

All at once the figure came into view. A knight. A little of the fear left TibiscuÔÇÖs body as he saw that his opponent was just a knight. Admittedly they were an incredibly large knight, plated in menacing dark steel, and wielding a two handed sword between one gauntleted fist like it was a short sword. Interestingly, the blade seemed darker then the surrounds of the forest. And where those engravings up the blade? Perhaps it was enchanted. None the less, this intruder was a knight. A human. Beatable. No match for him, at least he hoped.

ÔÇ£I am Tibiscu, and I seek the stone. Do you intend to stop me?ÔÇØ He had expected to find others seeking the stone, but not so soon. The knight made no reply. Tibiscu studied his opponent. He would rely heavily on his sword, the reach would be long, but if he could disarm them, then the battle would be all but over. Come in low hard and fast.
HeÔÇÖd brawled against dozens of knights and sell swords in bars in his time, and he was still here to tell the tail. No matter how big this opponent was, he would still go down. If only heÔÇÖd talk, the unnatural silence was almost more eerie then the hideous rasping of the knights approach.
Tibiscu, human, middle aged. You are brave. Strong souls are always the most rewarding. And the tattoos. Enchanted? Delightful. Courage breeds will, will shatters like glass when you peel it back to its core.

ÔÇ£Nothing to say?ÔÇØ Tibiscu edged forward, testing his opponents reaction. But the knight neither moved nor spoke.
ÔÇÿMaybe heÔÇÖs waiting on me to make the first move? Alright then. LetÔÇÖs dance.ÔÇÖ

show me your mettle. It will only make this all the sweeter. You cannot defeat fear. I have already won.

Tibiscu came in hard and fast, covering the distance between the two of them in the blink of an eye. His body was low, and as the knight hefted his bastard of a sword Tibiscu wove underneath it, coming up on the outside of the knightÔÇÖs sword arm. The blade had only missed him by centimetres ÔÇô heÔÇÖd heard the rush of wind as the blade split the air near his head- but it had missed, and that was what had mattered. Tibiscu was now inside the knightÔÇÖs backhand swing.
With unnerving accuracy TibiscuÔÇÖs fingers struck at the tender fold of metal were the gauntlet met the vambrace, his fingers punching against the light coif underneath. Then a second later Tibiscu was crouched, ready to kick away the knights dropped sword, before back flipping to his opponentÔÇÖs blind side as the knight inevitably sought to retrieve his blade. Once behind him the fight would have been easy. The great helm limited the knightÔÇÖs visibility; theyÔÇÖd never be able to keep track of Tibiscu. Only one thing went wrong. The sword didnÔÇÖt drop.
ÔÇ£What..ÔÇØ The words caught in his mouth even as the knightÔÇÖs gauntlet, aimed in a savage backhand blow, caught Tibiscu in the face.

Pain. Pain exploded across TibiscuÔÇÖs jaw, and his vision speckled black and white as he felt himself fly through the air and come crunching down against the pine needle floor. At least it offered some cushioning.
ÔÇÿThe chakra attack should have disrupted his nerves, even through the coif. I put every ounce of strength I needed into that attack. Why didnÔÇÖt he drop the sword?ÔÇÖ
Fear is a beautiful thing. You see it comes from everywhere. Happiness, that can only come from joy. But fear. Doubt causes fear. Anger causes fear. Loneliness causes fear. Fear is eternal. I am eternal. And you, you are now mine. Doubt yourself, let me being.

ÔÇ£You would bring your fists to a sword fight?ÔÇØ The voice. It didnÔÇÖt just speak to him, it spoke at him, like a thousand tiny nails invading his head. Tibiscu staggered backwards. What sort of a creature has a voice like that.
ÔÇ£What are you?ÔÇØ Breathed Tibiscu as he caught his breath. He tried to study the creatures face through the great helm, yet all he could see was darkness.
ÔÇ£You will know. Not yet. But you will.ÔÇØ the voice sent another chill down TibiscuÔÇÖs spine, but he held his ground. Only human. YouÔÇÖre only human. ItÔÇÖs all an act. YouÔÇÖre only human.

Slowing his breathing Tibiscu focused himself, meditating with his eyes open. Seeing his opponent for what he was, not what he wanted to be perceived.
The knight was massive, that was for sure, yet he had unnatural speed for one of his side. And he seemed resistant to chakra focused attacks. Perhaps another layer of armour beneath the first? That could work. But then how did he manage the speed? Only human. He was only human. If Tibiscu could learn to fight with the elements, then a knight could master his speed with so much padding. Only human.

ÔÇ£Round two sucker.ÔÇØ Tibiscu activated the lightning ring, the tattoo sparking to life around his skin like a dancing ring of electricity.
ÔÇÿHe is well trained, but training doesnÔÇÖt teach you how to fight raw ingenuity.ÔÇÖ
There is only one true power in this world little human. And it is fear. Fear is eternal. I am eternal. You cannot win.

TibiscuÔÇÖs second advance came almost as fast as the first, but this time he cut back across himself as he approached, zigzagging left to right. Mid rush he incorporated a near by tree as a spring board, leaping over his opponent. Tibiscu landed behind the knight, than he discharged a powerful attack against the back of the knightÔÇÖs knee, hoping to make him buckle. However, rather the wait for the results, Tibiscu was already moving again. Sweeping underneath the creatures legs as it turned to track him and ringing his fists against the body armour and right shoulder blade several times in quick succession. The sparks of electricity exploding from his blows set the darkness of the forest alive, and each blow was accompanied by the ringing of the knightÔÇÖs armour. As each flashing blow hummed to life with a metallic screech, a still picture of the battle was engraved into the shadows of the forest around them, fading only when the next shocking blow was struck.

Here Tibiscu strikes at an arm, narrowly avoiding a savage thrust. There he pirouettes away from a lunge, his elbow and arm connecting against the outstretched sword arm of his opponent. Here Tibiscu drops to a crouch and delivers a vicious sweeping kick to the knightÔÇÖs right leg. There the knight returns the blow in kind, catching Tibiscu savagely in the ribs with the pointed end of its sabaton.

Tibiscu rolled over himself, coming up in a low crouch. The knight didnÔÇÖt advance.
You know what those blows should have done, yet here I am. Still in one piece. Barely even phased. Feel the fear. Let it grip you. I am eternal. I am forever. YOU ARE MINE.
Tibiscu could see the scorch marks from where heÔÇÖd hit the suit. He could see the charred armour on the legs, arms, and even three powerful dents against the knightÔÇÖs chest plate from when heÔÇÖd rang the armour like a bell. But the knight had not slowed. He had not faltered. He had not even shown any sign of fatigue. If anything the knight seemed to be becoming stronger with every passing moment. His moves more precise, faster, and less predictable.

ÔÇÿTibiscu, there is more to this then you see. Do not attack what is offered, rather attack what is not.ÔÇÖ The voice of Giratsu echoed not just through TibiscuÔÇÖs mind, but also his spirit. The voice of his equal parts mentor, and charge had an instant calming effect on Tibiscu, focusing him. Yes. Attack what is not offered. Tibiscu could easily see where his blows had landed, but more importantly, he could also see where they had not. The helm. The knight made great effort to protect his helm.

ÔÇ£IÔÇÖm gonna knock youÔÇÖre head off!ÔÇØ Screamed Tibiscu, his eyes glowing with an intense supernatural white light as Giratsu and Tibiscu worked in unison to bring down this foe.
The eyes. Yes. Now it makes sense. You are not a human at all, but two. Two souls. No wonder I was drawn to you. Two souls for the price of one. I will have you. You will be mine. FEED ME!
Tibiscu raised his hand an unleashed a powerful shock of electricity, forcing the knight back a few steps. And even as the knight faltered Tibiscu was advancing, his yellow glowing lightning tattooÔÇÖs fading away as the bright orang of fire exploded around his wrists, palms, ankles, and feet, igniting not just the shadows, but TibiscuÔÇÖs very body.

Tibiscu threw his body up in a devastating rising kick, then using the breastplate for leverage he launched himself up further and delivered a roundhouse to the creatures head. The knight staggered backwards again, but Tibiscu wasnÔÇÖt finished yet, fury gripped him as he channelled his inner flame. Rushing forward Tibiscu faulted into an uppercut before his opponent could recover, landing a shattering blow just beneath the helm. He had expected the blow to take the helm off, but no matter. Even if it was strapped on, heÔÇÖd break the knightÔÇÖs neck eventually if he kept hitting them like this.
Yes, your anger. Give it to me. Fight me with it. When rage is spent to no avail all that is left is fear. Always fear. I am fear. I am forever, and you lost this battle before it even began.

Tibiscu blocked a side swipe, getting his hands in against the creatures arm, than used his momentum to launch another brutal assault against the knightÔÇÖs face. The helm still didnÔÇÖt come lose, the neck still didnÔÇÖt break, but there was an ace up TibiscuÔÇÖs sleeves which he still hadnÔÇÖt played. You didnÔÇÖt learn to fight in bars without picking up a cheap trick or two.

ÔÇ£IÔÇÖll gouge your eyes out.ÔÇØ TibiscuÔÇÖs voice was like chilled ice, focused, his mind and GiratsuÔÇÖs as one. Tibiscu tapped into his inner core, reaching for the rings of ice, he might only get one shot at this.

Tibiscu saw the next five seconds as if they happened in slow motion. They were five seconds that would haunt him for the rest of his life.
One. he saw the knight drew back his sword arm, reversing the grip on his blade as he readied a downward thrust.
Two. Tibiscu created space from his opponentÔÇÖs sword, than raised his own fist, fingers pointed like daggers.
Three. Tibiscu used his spare hand to force back the knights sword arm further, buying him the last few vital seconds heÔÇÖd need.
Four. Tibiscu lunged. There was nothing to stop him. Yet even as he lunged something didnÔÇÖt feel right.
Five. Before piercing the veil of the mask TibiscuÔÇÖs eyes sought out, one last time, the eyes of his opponent, if only to better know them before he killed him.

And now, with your mind so clear and focused, let me show you what I am.

ÔÇ£Fear didnÔÇÖt exist until the gods created it. ThatÔÇÖs the beautiful thing about fear. It was created. The world was perfect. Life was perfect. Nothing ever went wrong. It was so boring. Something was needed to keep life interesting, something was needed to create more motivation than self gratification. Something was needed to act as a check and balance for ever.

So death was created, and with death came fear. But a messenger was needed to bring this new knowledge to the world. I was created. Fear, as well as myself, are eternal. We are unending. Every force in this world feels us. Every force in this world knows of us. And so, we too know of every force in this world. We know them as intimately as a mother knows her child. As intimately as a Duke knows his mistress. Fear knows all, and fear knows you Tibiscu. I know youÔÇÖre fear. I know the depths of your soul. You are not a good man Tibiscu, you are a man ruled by desperation, and desperation is the by product of fear. You are desperate to live, because you fear death. You have stolen. You have robbed. You have beaten those weaker then you. Take advantage of those worse off. You are a bad man, you are a desperate man, and you are a scared man.
But your greatest fear isnÔÇÖt from the lives you have damaged; it is from the life you destroyed. The man you killed, but not just killed, his very existence you have stolen. Giratsu will never be free. Not from you. And in the deepest part of your soul you know, even if you win this competition you will not free him. After all, without him what are you? Less than nothing. He protects you from your desperation Tibiscu, he gives you the purpose that alone you never could have achieved. That is your fear Tibiscu, you fear your own self worth. You fear the nothingness you will become if you win, but you also fear the abomination that you are if you do not. You fear yourself, and now, you must fear me too. For I am The Rasping Suit, and I know your worth.ÔÇØ

Tibiscu had learned several life times of knowledge from Giratsu, and almost as much again from the temples. But never in all his training had he learned a lesson that had prepared him for this. However basic human instinct had, and at that moment, in the face of desperation, the most basic of survival instincts took over. If one cannot win a fight, one flees. So now Tibiscu put into practice a lesson he had never been taught, but a lesson he had always known. It was a lesson that had been engrained in him by the creating of the universe, by the creating of fear. Tibiscu ran. He didnÔÇÖt run in defeat, he didnÔÇÖt run in humility, he didnÔÇÖt make a tactical withdrawal. Tibiscu ran in terror; soul splitting, mind numbing, limb shaking terror. He ran through the trees, feeling the needles and branches whip at his face. He ran from the path into the darkness, hoping that the black of the forest could save him from the darkness of that creatures soul, from the darkness of his own soul. He fled hoping that some how distance could undo those last five seconds of the fight, yet he knew it was in vain. He ran into the unknown, in an effort to save himself from the only thing that he now knew for sure. Terror had a voice, and it was the sound of The Rasping Suit.

Alone on the path again The Rasping Suit turned North, the sound of metal scraping against metal heralding his victory.
Thank you Tibiscu, you were twice as filling as IÔÇÖd expected.

Tibiscu:

It was very quiet on this path. Even the chatter of the birds couldn't be heard. Whether it was due to the suffocating humidity or the dark history of the path, was still unknown. The first rumor of the Stone had set Tibiscu through the forest down this long forgotten path. Hopefully it had been correct, such a stone would undoubtedly bring others, like moths to a flame. So he would likely meet others along the path, although others would likely have different, darker plans with its use.
After a few hours of walking, it was time to rest. Tibiscu sat down to meditate. It was important to rest the mind as well as the body. The humidity seemed to have a mind of its own, bearing down on him the moment he stopped. The heat in the air reminded him of the fire temple, and his mind flashed back to that day.
Tibiscu sat in quiet reflection, then his brow furrowed. The temperature had dropped drastically. He opened his eyes. The forest seemed darker. Had he fallen asleep? No, that wasn't right. His body was tense, ready for battle. Something was wrong. Very, very wrong. He felt something he hadn't felt in a long time. Fear. Something was coming. Something dark and ancient. Something powerful.
Tibiscu had only a fraction of a second to lean forward, as the small trees behind him were instantly and effortlessly cut in half. He scrambled up to find his attacker, but there was none. Just darkness. It was too dark. The fight had begun, and he was at a lethal disadvantage.
An idea struck him. Concentrating his energy, the lightning bands on his arms and legs crackled to life, bringing light to the void. There, he saw something that nearly made his heart stop. It was an old suit of armor, holding a large blade, almost discernable in the darkness. The mere sight of the armor made Tibscu hesitate, and the armor took that opportunity. It lashed out, and caught Tibiscu across the jaw with a black gauntlet. He reeled backwards, quickly regaining his composure. Apparently this was to be his first opponent on the path to the Stone. So be it.
Tibiscu launched himself forward, dodging the dark blade. Even being near the thing made his hair stand on end. He struck quickly, aiming at the body's natural chakra points. But nothing happened. A vicious backhand pushed him away, into a tree. He had to react quickly, and soon another tree was hewn with ease. What happened? Those attacks would've put anyone out of commission, even with armor. Something was different about this... thing. He would have to use more power.
Electricity crackled as it raced over his body, and he focused it in his fingers. He launched forward again, this time catching a glancing blow, which was enough to send a chill down his spine. But he couldn't let that stop him. He struck at the joints, hands moving at almost the speed of light. The constant strikes soon started warming up the atmosphere, and the intense heat made the armor glow. Soon the shoulder hip joints were white-hot, which was good because he was getting tired. The lightning style was hard to control. He soon stopped, and took a step back. It was a vicious attack, but it was necessary. The heat should have cooked whatever was inside that insidious armor.
A boot to the chest proved him wrong. The wind was knocked out of him, and he looked up in disbelief. He could see the heat radiating off the armor, yet it was still moving. Stepping, slowly towards him. He couldn't move quickly enough to get away, the lightning had taken too much out of him. This could be the end. He closed his eyes.
But there was no pain. He looked up, and almost cut his nose on the blade. The armor was frozen in place. He stood up wearily, and investigated further. Where he had struck with his lightning had welded its joints in place. It didn't look permanent, but it worked. He decided to not waste any time and begun walking away, as fast as his tired muscles would allow.
"This is not over. I will find you" came from behind him, and shiver again ran down his spine.

Damn it guys I hit the word limit! I'll have to do this in two posts! You guys are nuts.

[M0rtimer]

Arch Lich Burns's Rex versus Dusk9's Kane

Kane:

Brambleborn Forest.

An unassuming name for one of the most unique locations in the land. On the surface, little more than an ordinary, if quite large, forest, with trunk and leaf stretching as far as the eye can see. However, on closer inspection, observers quickly realise that it is in fact a thick knot of tree and thorn, impassable to anything but the most skilled of travelers. Even animals of the wild, accustomed to the most inhospitable terrain, refuse to live within the great tangle of its darkest depths.

But, should they tear their eyes from the wall of vine and bark, those observers would notice something quite peculiar. A small village, located exceptionally close to the edges Brambleborn, and dwarfed by the monstrous trees behind it. A village with dirt roads, and small, closely knit wooden buildings. A village of just sixty-seven people.

Brandenburgh.

---

Bert sighed heavily as he wiped the filthy rag over the even dirtier mug in his hand. For the fifth - no, sixth? - time that evening. It was a quiet night in the lodge. As usual. The only sound reaching his ears was the chattering of the rats scurrying about under the floorboards. The spluttering of the candles in their brackets, fading in the twilight. The creaking of the old wooden beams, struggling to hold up the great thatch roof.

The inn was a family heirloom. Built by his great-great-grandfather, back when Brandenburgh was the only way around the forest, and travelers were common. Passed down, from father to son, the business had always got by reasonably well - until they built that accursed bridge between Rivershore and Tealvale. Now, the only ones who came this way were misguided adventurers, looking for riches in the forest. And the less-reputable merchants, who wished to avoid the militia of the larger towns and cities. Though relatively common, most didn't have the coin or heart to rent a room, preferring instead to camp out in their caravans and tents.
This meant that, for the first time in a century, the inn was in trouble. Bert was barely earning enough to live on, and the old building was falling to pieces around him. The other day, he had even been forced to shore up the roof supports with the remains of a broken table; remnants of yet another bar fight between those damned Locker brothers. He would have banned them years ago, were they not some of his most regular customers. On which note, he was surprised they weren't here now, filling their bellies with cheap drink. Must have had family business to attend to.....

Suddenly, his musings were shattered by a loud bang. Looking up with a start, he noticed someone standing at the other end of the bar, hand on the wooden surface. Slowly, the fingers moved, revealing a small pouch. A coin pouch!

"How much for a room?"

The voice was soft, yet harsh. Young, yet mature. The resonance of it drew Bert forward, like a moth to a flame. The traveler's face was covered, hidden by a hood that cast deep shadows over his features. In his spare hand there was a quarterstaff - only smooth wood, but elegant in its simplicity.
Trying to gather his thoughts, and suppress his excitement at having his second customer in as many days, Bert answered;
"Five gold a night. Seven if you want breakfast, ten for that and supper. You're a bit late for the supper, but I've got some cold soup in the back, if you want it."
After a slight pause, the cloaked figure carefully reached in and removed a number of coins from the pouch. Bert's heart sank as he realised it was only three pieces.
"This is all I will give you. Take it, or leave it."

Despite the disappointment, Bert wasn't about to turn the man down - just three gold would be enough to get him though the rest of the week.
He could worry about next week when it came.
"A'right. I'll take it."
"Good. Where?"
"...whut?"
"The room. Where is it?"
Recognizing the terse tone in the traveler's voice, Bert hurriedly replied in the most polite way he could, fearful of causing more annoyance.
"Up the stairs, second door on the right. Sir."
Nodding in acknowledgement, the stranger turned and begin to walk to the back of the room. But, before he could reach the stairway, Bert called after him.
"Sorry, sir, I don't mean to pry, but....you aren't a friend of the other man staying here, are you? Only, business is pretty slow out here, and we rarely get two people staying here at the same time, so I was just, y'know....just wondering......"
Stopping suddenly, Bert thought he glimpsed a slight stiffening of muscles under the cloak.
".....is this tenant upstairs at the moment?"
"Yeah, I guess so. Don't think he's left his room since he checked in, last night."
"..........no. I don't know him. Goodnight."
And with that, the figure disappeared up the stairs, as silently as he'd arrived. Leaving Bert to his money troubles, his broken building, and his dirty mugs.

---

Quickly, but cautiously, Kane scaled the rickety old staircase. Ordinarily he would be more relaxed at this time of night, ready for a long rest after another day of non-stop travel. But the innkeeper's comments had concerned him greatly.
At first, it had gone just as planned. The peasant had caved instantly, letting his weak will get the better of him. Kane didn't really need the extra two gold pieces, but any man that gave in so quickly hardly deserved the three coins he had been given. Let alone five.

No, it wasn't the money that had concerned him. It was the talk of another person in the building. For you see, Kane never entered a place to rest until he knew it was secure. And when he did his customary mind-scan of the structure, the barman's mind had been the only one he sensed.

Which meant, if there truly was another in the building, they were somehow capable of hiding from his senses. And that was very worrying indeed.

Rapidly flicking through the information in his head, pulled directly from the mind of that dense barkeep, Kane reviewed what he knew as he strode down the corridor. Dressed in unremarkable clothes, with a ornate walking stick and little else, the old man had appeared at the door late into the evening, and seemingly quite weary from his travels. Despite that, though, he had been very talkative after a bit of rest, explaining to the barman in great detail that he was a scholar with a strong interest in establishing the truth behind ancient myths, particularly that of-
"The Maker's Stone."

Speaking in a whisper, Kane's step faltered, eyes widening. Another traveler searching for the Stone? Here!? At the same time he was? The odds were astronomically small. But, apparently, the odds didn't care. Another on the path to his prize......sleeping mere meters away. Defenseless.
He could not let this opportunity escape him.

Careful not to step on any creaking floorboards, Kane approached his target's room. Moving forward, he cautiously lowered his palm to the handle, and - after briefly shaking his head at the stupidity of there being no locking mechanisms, of any sort - turned it.
Silently, the door swung open. Say what you would about the owner, but he certainly knew how to oil hinges. Unfortunately, it seemed that all the stealth had been for naught - the room was deserted. Confused, Kane went back through the innkeeper's memories. Had he been mistaken? Had the old man popped out when he wasn't paying attention? It was more than possible - the innkeeper obviously wasn't the brightest out there.
Deciding not to give up so easily, the cloaked figure stepped deeper into the room, intent on searching it. And there, on the bed, a scrap of paper. Not stopping to consider the suspicious nature of the situation, Kane picked it up, and read;

Dear Interloper,
I do not appreciate it when people poke around in my things without my permission. Let this be your punishment.
Yours sincerely,
Explosive Runes

---

It was like the gates of Hell had opened above his head.

One moment, Bert was behind the bar, wiping his mugs and regretting his life choices. The next, he was lying unconscious on the ground, as fire and destruction rained down from above.

It was the smoke that woke him, burning his throat, lungs, and eyes with its acidic heat. Coming to with a start, he rolled over just in time to avoid a heavy shard of falling wood, plummeting down from the ceiling at great speed. Crawling under the bar, he could do nothing but watch as his childhood memories burned around him, turning to ash in seconds.
In desperation, he stood and ran for the door, but wasn't quite fast enough. A great beam, weakened by decades of wear and dislodged by the blast, came crashing down, pinning the innkeeper beneath its weight with a mighty bang. Barely conscious, Bert struggled to get up, to crawl outside. To do something. Anything!

Thoughts of money, of travel, of food - all are gone from his head. The only thing left a single desire. One last wish.

SURVIVE

Grunting and swearing at the effort, his body flooded with adrenaline, Bert lifted the beam and threw it aside. Marveling at his sudden strength, and ignoring the pain coursing through him, he pushed on, stumbling through the door and into the cold night air......

---

"Impressive."

With a groan, Kane opened his eyes. The image was blurry at first, but quickly came into focus. Plain clothes. An ornate walking stick. A shiny bald head.

"I don't think I've ever seen anyone escape the runes before. Most are decimated instantly by the blast, before they even have a chance to react."
"Tell me: how did you do it?"
It was difficult to hear the voice, the ringing in his ears muffling most sound. But, after a short pause, Kane replied.
"....runes have a cast delay. It's not much - a second, maybe - and for most people that's barely enough time to realise what the note says, let alone escape. Me? I'd memorized it, and was halfway out the door, in half that time."
"Interesting.....I'll have to remember that. For next time."
"Who says there's going to be a ÔÇÿnext time'?"

Moving almost faster than the eye could track, Kane spun to his feet and brought the quarterstaff down on the old man's skull, splitting it in a single blow and sending him crumpling to the ground. Or at least, he would have, had the figure before him not faded out of existence in a puff of air, the staff passing through nothing. The only sign the man had even existed was a ghostly laugh, which seemed to echo up and down the corridor, coming from all directions at once.
"Heheheh. Going to have to try harder than that."

Wincing at the pain in his side, Kane ignored the laugh and took stock of his surroundings. The heavy wooden door had shielded him from the brunt of the blast, but it hadn't fared well. Through the large cracks now splitting its surface, Kane could see flames quickly spreading throughout the room. The corridor was safe for now, but it wouldn't be long before the whole building was reduced to nothing more than a pile of ash. He had to get out.

But first, he had to take care of the crazy guy who'd tried to blow him up. Fortunately, while he couldn't see his target, chances are they were still in the corridor, keeping him in their sights.
Which meant, he could do this.

Raising his arms, and clicking a hidden trigger under the sleeves, Kane activated his secret weapons. With a twang, the two spring-loaded mechanisms strapped to his forearms released a number of metal bolts, accelerating them to impressive speeds and flinging them in both directions down the corridor, firing three each in less than a second. The first set of bolts hit nothing but wood, embedding themselves deep in the wall next to the small, dirty window. However, the second set hit their target - two in the chest, and one in the head, knocking the hooded man back into visibility and sending him crumpling to the ground with a flash of red.

Smiling grimly, Kane began to walk over, hoping to retrieve his ammunition before the roof came crashing down on him. His greatest asset, these launchers. Designed and built by his own hands, they had pulled him out of more than one tight spot. The mechanism was a mastery of clockwork and mechanics - the springs designed precisely, in such a way as to reduce recoil to practically nothing, allow the bolts to hit with the force of a small cannonball at close range-
Hold on a minute! A flash of red!?

Abruptly pulling himself back to the present, Kane studied the man more closely as he approached. And recognized immediately that this was not the old guy from before. Dressed in a strange hooded top, and trousers of a shiny material Kane had never encountered before, the figure was much taller and skinnier than the old man who had disappeared before his eyes. And was that bone down there!?!

Eyes wide, Kane could only watch in shock as the figure sat up, and, with one bony hand, wrench the bolt from its skull.
And it was just a skull. No flesh. No skin. Just pure, white, bone. And glowing red orbs in place of eyes.

Teeth clacking together unnaturally, the man - no, monster - reached over with one skeletal hand to retrieve its walking stick, now an intricately carved staff, and clambered back to it's feet.

"Wh-what!?"
"Hah! Cat got your tongue, kid? Well, let's give it something else to catch......"

Before Kane could say or do anything else, the skeleton flicked its wrist. Kane braced, expecting a magical blast of some sort - he was more than a little surprised when, instead, an uncountable number of the largest rats he had ever seen swarmed out from under the floorboards.
There were hundreds! Everywhere he looked, more and more appeared, seemingly from nowhere. Sleek brown fur coated in filth. Razor sharp teeth ripping the wooden floor to shreds. And their beady black eyes, locked on his own.

Acting on instinct, Kane bolted down to corridor, towards the window at its end. With a crash, he threw himself into the glass, shattering it and careening down onto the ground below. Landing with a thud, he rolled over and was on his feet in seconds, ready to fend off any pursuit.

But, there was none. No rats bursting out of the ground. No skeletons throwing explosions at him.

Nothing but the crackling of fire, as old thatch and wood caught alight. And shouts of villagers who had just had their peaceful evening shattered.

Taking that moment to catch his breath, Kane began picking the tiny shards of glass out of the cuts now crisscrossing his skin, while figuring out where he was. It seemed like there was a small courtyard area behind the inn, surrounded by houses on all sides. The only way back to the main road were a couple of alleyways wedged between the wooden buildings, dark and smothered in shadow. Hissing, he ripped out a particularly large shard from his forehead, blood running down over his eyes. The pain was sharp, but easily ignored. What could not be ignored was the distinct sense that he had just been played for a fool.
Even when running for his life, Kane paid attention. And now that he had time to think, he quickly realised that the rats had been mindless. Not stupid, like ordinary rats - mindless. Completely invisible to his senses, just like that skeleton. Which meant only one thing - they hadn't been real.

"Illusions...."

It made sense. The disappearing old man? An illusion. The swarm of rodents? Illusion.
It even explained how the innkeeper had not noticed he was housing a walking, talking skeleton.

So, he was facing a powerful undead sorcerer, who seemed to prefer trickery and deception to outright combat. And was also, apparently, immune to his strongest asset. It was a difficult challenge, but not impossible. If he could catch it by surprise, maybe-
"You don't think I'm letting you get away that easily, do you?"

Spinning, Kane swung his staff at the voice behind him. But again, he hit nothing. This time, though, it wasn't because he'd been trying to hit an illusion.
It was because the skeleton was currently floating about ten meters above him.

"Get down and fight me properly, monster."
"Yeah, right. Why don't I just blindfold myself too? Y'know, while I'm at it."
Ah well, worth a shot.
With his enemy out of reach, Kane resorted to his only ranged option. Lifting his arm, he quickly fired off another bolt, aiming for the now healed skull. But the mage saw it coming, and dodged with ease.
"Nice shot. Not quite good enough, though. Now, my turn."
Again the flick of the wrist. And again, the ground burst open, and a swarm - of insects, this time - erupted out, racing towards Kane's feet.
But this time, trusting his judgement and fighting his urge to flee, Kane stood his ground. And he was right. The swarm shot up his arms, over his clothes, everywhere. However, no damage was done. Because they weren't really there.

Grunting in annoyance, the skeleton dismissed the illusion, and summoned another. Bats, this time. A cloud that flew rings around Kane's head, buffeting his hair and squeaking in his ears. But again, he held his ground, eyes locked on the skeleton, not even giving the winged mammals a second glance.

"Now what? A stalemate? I cannot reach you, but your illusions have no effect on me."

The skeleton dismissed the bats, then raised its hand to its chin, head tilted slightly. Emotion was difficult to judge on a featureless face, but Kane thought he might be thinking hard about something. Then, the eyes brightened. And that laugh returned.
"Heh, maybe not. You do know I have other tricks at my disposal, don't you?"

Hearing a crash behind him, Kane glanced around. One of the nearby houses had opened, door kicked aside violently. And out stepped....a nightmare. It looked like a person. But it wasn't.

Blood coated the creature's clothes and skin. Fresh blood, glistening in the moonlight and the nearby flames. The skin that wasn't red was instead pale, almost bone-white, and covered in scars and lacerations. Flesh hung gaunt on its face, eyes sunken orbs cast in shadow. It was a monstrosity.
And it wasn't alone.

More of these creatures followed - first a couple, then a dozen, until small horde had gathered outside the building. Some were fresh, like the first, while others appeared to have been at one time buried under the ground, dirt still matting their thin grey hair and rags of clothes.

Unperturbed, Kane stood his ground, ignoring the stench of rotten flesh. It was just another illusion. Nothing more.

But then, as the first approached, Kane suddenly noticed it. Though faint, it was there: that spark of consciousness. The sliver of human thought.
These creatures weren't illusions. They were real zombies!

Backing up, Kane lifted his staff defensively. Glancing to the sky, he caught one last glimpse of the skeleton before it faded out of visibility once more.
"What, you thought I spent the entire day sitting in my room? I've been meeting the locals, making friends."
"They weren't too happy to see me at first, but they quickly came around."

"Good luck. Heheheheheheheheheh........"

---

The fire had spread quickly. Mere minutes had passed, but already the flames were licking the sides of the neighboring buildings, threatening to set them alight as well. People swarmed everywhere, throwing buckets of water on their own houses to put out any sparks that managed to jump the gap.
No one was trying to put out his inn. Bert couldn't blame them. It wasn't like there was much left to save. The blast had blown a hole in the front so large you could walk a herd of cattle through. And the roof was pretty much gone, consumed by heat and light.
It was a miracle the door hadn't caved in before he could escape.

The innkeeper sat in the middle of the road, barely watching as the chaos unfolded around him. He didn't feel anything. He wasn't sad, or angry. He wasn't crying, or screaming, or shouting, or cursing. He wanted to. He wanted to scream, and shout, and curse the world for what it had done to him. For the misery it had dumped on him. But, he just...didn't feel it.

The only thing he felt was the heat of the flames on his front, and the cold of night on his back.

Then, something caught his eye. A figure, running through the alleyway next to the remains of his inn. Arms up to protect his face from the smoke and flame, brown cloak billowing out in his wake.

Him.

Rage filled Bert's mind, coursing down through his entire body. That man was the one who had done this. He wasn't entirely sure how he knew, but it didn't matter - that damned traveler was the cause of all this pain, and he would suffer for it!
Clambering to his feet, Bert started forward, eyes burning as bright as the inferno that was his home. He was ready, to shout, to scream, to curse. To hurt. The hate boiled up inside him, threatening to blow with the force of a thousand stars...

And in the blink of an eye, it was gone. Replaced by a solid, ice cold sense of dread.
The traveler was running, not from the scene of his crime, but from something far, far worse. Bert watched, paralyzed by fear, as the demons and monsters of his nightmares burst from the shadows in the cloaked figure's wake. A sea of rotten flesh, of blood and death. The stench hit him like a wall, assaulting his senses with unforgiving relentlessness.

He wasn't the only one who noticed.
The screams spread faster than the fire, as villager after villager saw the horde of undeath approaching. Dropping their buckets and tools, they ran, the fire forgotten. Bert was among them, pushing and shouting, fear driving his muscles forward, towards safety...

"HOLD!"

As one, the crowd halted, as if grabbed by an invisible force. Frozen mid-step, eyes glazing over, mouths twisted into screams that would never come.
The sudden silence was deafening.
"Cowards! Peasants! Do not run! Arm yourselves! Defend your homes from the undead menace!"
In an instant, the crowd was moving again. Dispersing. Grabbing whatever tools and weapons they could find in the vicinity. A bucket. A hammer. A scythe, even.
Then, they charged. A wall of villagers meeting the wall of undead head on, makeshift weapons splitting skulls and tearing limbs from torsos with ruthless efficiency.

And at the centre of it all, a lowly innkeeper without an inn, eyes filled with a mixture of bloodlust and fear.

---

Kane cursed. The villagers had cleared a circle around him, and were doing a surprisingly good job of holding back the swarm. But, for every mind that disappeared from his control, the enemy force gained another undead ally. It was a losing battle. His only chance was to escape, and bring down the skeleton behind this.

But how!?
He couldn't have the villagers swarm it and break its bones to dust because it was flying. And he can't knock it out of the sky himself because of it's invisibility. Maybe if he could sense it mind, he would know where to shot, but he'd already established that it was immune to his powers.....unless.........

---

Rex was happy.
There he was, floating above the carnage of another bloodbath, as the village below tore itself to pieces. All because of him. He loved it. Relished it. The blood. The death. It was almost enough to make him cry tears of happiness. Well, if he had tear ducts, of course. Or proper eyes, for that matter.

Still, there was one thing left that worried him. Only slightly, but still.
That interloper. First the runes, then the illusions - he was obviously a very bright individual, figuring things out surprisingly quickly. And that made him dangerous.
Scanning the crowd below, Rex searched for that now familiar brown cloak. He had seen it a moment ago, in the centre of a circle separate from the chaos. But then his minions had broken through, swarming in and ripping the villagers limb from limb, in a fountain of blood and gore. And now, the cloak was gone; swallowed by the horde. Was he dead? Probably, but it would be good to know for sure.

Flying lower, the lich kept looking, focused on the chaos. That was his first mistake.

A click, and a whoosh, as something rushed by above his head. That was the only warning he had. And by then, it was too late.
The second bolt was more accurate than the first, striking the skull directly in the temple, and piercing straight through to the other side. Dazed, the skeleton struggled to stay upright and floating. Briefly, he dropped his invisibility, using the extra concentration to stabilise his flight.

That was his second mistake.

The staff flew straight like an arrow, but struck like a cannonball, cracking and splintering bone. It was such a powerful blow, that his jaw was knocked clean off, flying away into the night. His concentration lost, Rex could only watch in anger as the horde below rushed up to meet him. The last sight he saw, a cloaked figure, standing on a nearby rooftop.

---

Funny thing about minds - they're very, very stubborn.
Even when you die, they never disappear entirely. Not until the entire brain has been destroyed, that is. The body could be weeks, even months old, but as long as there are at least a few neurons left in there, the mind will hang around, waiting for a chance to think again.

Ordinarily, they never get that chance. Over time, the brain decays to nothing, and that's that. However, if someone - or something - were to reanimate that body, then the mind would return. It would be a weakened, pitiful ghost of what it once was. But it would be there.

And what's more, it would produce a nice, convenient, psychic trail, leading back to the mind that resurrected it. No matter how well hidden it might be.

Kane watched, his face emotionless, as the skeleton sorcerer was torn to pieces by its own undead. Then, once he was sure that the bones had been scattered, and broken to dust, he sat down.

And waited.

---

Name. His name. Yes. Ro....ber? Robert? That it? Yes. Robert. Bert. Bob? No. Not Bob. Hate Bob. Stupid name. Hunger. Need food. Cold soup? Not soup. Meat. Flesh. Eat. Food? No. No food. Dirt. Bleagh. Yuck. No taste. Not meat. Not flesh. Ow. Pain. Bright. Need dark. Need shade.

The zombie stopped crawling, raising its hand to block the bright light that shone down on it from the rising sun. Its stomach grumbled, for the fifth - no, sixth - time that minute. It needed food. It needed flesh. Fresh meat. It needed-

THWACK!

The severed head sailed through the air, crashing down in a nearby ash pile. Briefly stopping to wipe the spit and bile from his shoe, Kane stooped down and retrieved his staff from the river of blood and guts. Nose wrinkled in disgust, he turned to leave the battleground. But then, he remembered something. Bending down, he frisked the body of the man at his feet, and quickly found what he was looking for.

There. Now he could go. Without so much as a backward glance, the traveler turned to leave. In one hand, a staff stained red with the blood of his sheep.
In the other, a flash of gold. Coins.

Three of them, to be precise.

Rex:

The battle has nearly begun, further away from his opponent in the beginning so that they have to find each other, he prefers this but could possibly get away before the opponent got a chance to do anything anyways. He is not sure what he is facing so he quickly surveys the area before battle and would smirk at the thought of a village attack and began to think out ideas of to use it as a playing ground to torment and test his opponent. As soon as the round starts he casts a spell on himself to blend in and wonders in the village, quickly writing notes down and applying tape to them.
He goes to a person that he finds in a building ÔÇ£I will pay you 10 gold to put up these notes on every door. It is important that you do not read them. And make sure that the top one goes on this door.ÔÇØ That person nods and starts putting the notes up on every door. Rex checks out to see the progess and sees it is no where complete and his opponent can be here any second now. He looks out of the window and sees a man searching for something, that might be his opponent. He desides to amuse the guest for a while the towns person is going out putting up signs and casts a few illusionary soliders to go and fight his opponent. And while heÔÇÖs at it why not throw in a zombie with a solider illusion on it for fun. After all, once a person thinks itÔÇÖs just an illusion itÔÇÖs time to strike them with one that is not.
Kane looks around for his opponent, prying into some minds to see if they are aggressive or if they see anybody that is aggressive, he knew his opponent started on the other side, but unsure where he is now. It could be anybody in the sea of sheep, a wolf in sheepÔÇÖs clothing, if you will. He sees off to a distance people running towards him. He has sometime to ready his staff as he tries to pry into one of their minds, but there are no minds to be seen, and they just keep coming. They go up to him and slash at him, which should have hit him but went right through. Kane is just slightly annoyed rather than surprised at this. There was another one that was the same way, and Kane just ignored it. And then a third. This is getting boring and repetive now. A fourth one comes by and actually hurts Kane. He sighs and smashes the illusionary solider zombie fairly quickly.
The lich looks out to see how much progress has been done with the papers and it seemed to be about time to make an announcement to his opponent. He casts an illusinary voice nearby KaneÔÇÖs ear.
ÔÇ£Greetings! I do hope you like my entertainment. I assure you that this is mearly the beginning. Right now the name of the game is Explosive Roulette, have you played it before? No? I didnÔÇÖt think so. There are postings on nearly every door. Some with explosive runes, some only saying explosive runes. One of these doors I hide behind. And what is more amusing is that zombies cannot read.ÔÇØ A few moments latter a boom is heard as a peasant was looking at the note at the door. Villagers scream all about frantically after the first explosion.
Kane shuts his eyes and tries to read the minds of the people and use them to determine where he should be going and moves closer to the center of town, looking for minds that do not seem to be bothered by the explosion and he finds a few minds that are a bit slippery and one of them seems rather amused with itself and he moves that way and opens the door. The mind seems mildly amused about the whole ordeal.

Closing your eyes? Now thats just cheating! Fine then you wanna play that way.hmm Oh I know!
What seems to be an old man turns into gaseous vapor and goes through the cracks. Kane sighs and waits a bit until the man comes back into his solid form.

Those are the battles of round 1, and judging for them will now begin... Good luck to all contestants! Remember that, regardless of you win or lose, you shouldn't lose hope yet- The first two rounds, your combined score counts towards seeing who makes it through, and from the 11 current players 8 will remain. Regardless, have fun reading- And I'm looking forward to your opinions.

[Arydra]

OK..... *stunned silence*
That was a little bit more than I was expecting.....
No idea how I am going to be able to top some of these.

[Arydra]

As you said that we were welcome to state opinions, I shall state mine. While all of them where well done, I liked Dusk9's, Vidius's, and Psychotic's the most.

Thanks everyone for providing a very good read.

[Dusk9]

I've got no time to read any right now, but I will say that I seem to have gone a bit over-the-top with my wordcount.

Again

[Arydra]

While I loved your submission Dusk9, I am nurturing this faint hope that I will never have to face you. I am not sure my poor little character could survive

Edit: When is the second bracket going to be receiving their locations? Because reading all of that has really got me motivated to do some writing. That is assuming I remember it all after I wake up.

[M0rtimer]

The next matchup will be this Sunday. Hopefully the judges will by that time have managed to judge the entries and provide scores so we know the "definite" winners.

[M0rtimer]

Also, my apologies to Psychotic for not using his later entry! It is fixed now. I think it was mostly formatting, but still.

[Arch Lich Burns]

sorry for not finishing mine guys. It just...couldn't be helped

[vidius]

sorry for not finishing mine guys. It just...couldn't be helped

<3

don't feel bad. You may only need one win to make the quarter finals :3

[vidius]

As the creator of the original Goblins RW, and after seeing the first round now posted. I thought I'd take a moment to give some (hopefully) good advice to contestants. (And NONE of it is going to be proof read, or write good English.)

1. Have a plan!
I cannot stress this enough. Before even putting pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard) rough out how you want your fight to go. This will help keep your right focused, and may allow you to space the writing over more then one session, preventing burn out.
E.G here is my rough to The Rasping Suit vs Tibiscu
-brief overview of history of forest.
-Tibiscu in forest. Focus on oppression of forest
-Tibiscu hears suit approaching
-fight!

• Tibiscu notices suit is armed with sword, mistakes for knight. Easy duel, disarm to win.
• Tibiscu is hit. Uses fire attacks in rage
• lightning attacks to make movements more erratic
• Giratsu helps
• Ice attack to finish
• TRS attacks Tibiscu with fears
• End
• Over entire entry lay thoughts from The Rasping Suit..

As you can see, I didn't stick to this entire plan, nor does it detail everything that happens in the fight. But it allowed me to stay focused on what the fight was about, which meant I'd always have a finished product I could at least be happy with.

2. Use all the resources at hand!
Every single person entering this competition has created a unique and interesting combatant. Take the time to read your opponents source material, as well as any fights they have been in. Write an opponent's character with the respect you'd like to see your own character treated. (This doesn't mean don't kill them, just make sure they stay as true to their creators source material as you can keep them)

3. You are given an arena for a reason!
In the very first Ratings War I was ever part of, all the battles where located in a single arena, which occasionally had a hazard incorporated into it. It was boring. Arena's help make each battle unique and different. Use your arena. Sometimes the arena may be the difference between victory and defeat.

4. The winning entry is CANON!
Win or lose a round, the entry that won is canon. It becomes the truth of this narrative. If you are defeat, use the new source material you are provided with to help make your character grow.

5. It's not the size that counts (I couldn't resist)
The more you write, the more likely you are to lose. It increases your chance of making a mistake. It increases your chance of losing your audience. It increases your chance of being defeated. Try to strike a balance between length and flow. Think, is this paragraph relevant to the story? Does it add something to my character? Does it add something to my opponent? Does it add something to the arena? If it doesn't tick any of these off, get rid of it. If it only ticks off one of these and your story is long, get rid of it. If you lose your audience you will get crucified. There is nothing worse then reading a long boring entry.

I will tell you now with full confidence, an entry of 6000 words+ will struggle to win a final.

If you don't believe me that simple can work, just read any of KnuckleKraken's entries from the original Goblins RW.

6. Have fun.
This is a GAME, if you are not enjoying this, than something has gone wrong. Think to yourself 'why am I doing this?' Personally for me, I write in these because I love seeing how other people write my characters. It gives me a lovely chill when I see of truthful depiction of my own creation. Find what you enjoy about this competition and focus on that. It will make this entire contest a lot more enjoyable.

I hope this helps some of you who are looking at those walls of texts and thinking.. or . And remember, this competition is anyone's game. But win or lose, it's a game.

[PSychotic]

Damn it. I just noticed that I mistakenly kept referring to Robert as Roderick in my entry. Woops.

[Arch Lich Burns]

sorry for not finishing mine guys. It just...couldn't be helped

<3

don't feel bad. You may only need one win to make the quarter finals :3

Why can I not stop it then? D: I wanted to have an epic battle in there...but....I had no time...and emotions sway me easier when sleep deprived it seems...

[AccursedBiscuit]

I gotta say, Vidius's story was awesome. Very, very well written. Bravo

[vidius]

I gotta say, Vidius's story was awesome. Very, very well written. Bravo

Thank you, I really hope you enjoyed the portrayal of Tibiscu.

sorry for not finishing mine guys. It just...couldn't be helped

<3

don't feel bad. You may only need one win to make the quarter finals :3

Why can I not stop it then? D: I wanted to have an epic battle in there...but....I had no time...and emotions sway me easier when sleep deprived it seems...

If you need help on your next round chuck me a PM and I'll help how ever I can.

But seriously, I feel the biggest help I can give you is make a plan before trying to write the entry, it will make it all seem less monumental.

Maybe try writing the entry anyway? That way at least you could still post what could have been. Or maybe just try finishing it for yourself, so you can prove 'yes, I can do this.'

[AccursedBiscuit]

I really did, I think you did a better job with my character than I did hahaha and thank you for the advice, I'll be sure to remember it for my next battle. Planning has always been a weak spot for me.

[Arch Lich Burns]

I would but I have very little time.

[vidius]

I really did, I think you did a better job with my character than I did hahaha and thank you for the advice, I'll be sure to remember it for my next battle. Planning has always been a weak spot for me.

I quite liked the ingenuity to your story. Knowing you couldn't defeat him, so disabling him in such a creative way. It made me smile.