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Midus Sonners Vice Captain
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 Posted: Tue Apr 29, 2008 8:43 pm
arrow Outside Greeting one in his or her approach is an immense stone construct reminiscent of the Roman Colosseum that surfaced somewhere in the fields to the west of Barton. The Colosseum is surrounded by an open gravel lot for parking and comfortable approach, and then by open fields and a small forest beyond that. A dusty dirt road leads to the lot from the south and bends at a certain point to run east toward Barton. If the stadium is too much at the moment, feel free to lounge outdoors.
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Posted: Fri May 02, 2008 3:13 pm
"Hm?"
Leon glanced around as he arrived into a small clearing in the forest he had been investigating all morning. Instead of the smart tux he had arrived in, he now was sporting a white loose hoodie, and beige cargo shorts, along with a pair of converse trainers and a white cotton sweat band on his left wrist.
His hair was pulled back so that the usually spiky fringe was pressed against his head, with a white and black patterned bandanna holding it in place. His brow was moist, it would be apparent to anyone watching that he had been jogging through the woods, all part of his aggressive cardio scheme that kept his body in the perfect shape that it was currently was in.
His pupils scanned the area, finally falling upon a tree trunk, by the looks of the charred top of the trunk, The weather had been the end of this plant's life. It stood at about five feet, and it's diameter was about 10 feet. Perfect size for a little practice.
removing the hoodie to reveal his lean but toned torso, Leon began to stretch, ensuring all the ligaments and joints in his limbs and back were loosened up, before finally letting himself fall into the all too familiar Shotokan Karate stance.
At a steady pace, and executed with precise minuscule movements, he began to kick at he log with his left leg, twisting his body as the flesh covering the top of his foot struck against the bark over and over. Each impact causing a slight grunt to emit from the grimaced lips of the fighter.
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Posted: Fri May 02, 2008 7:48 pm
Rei walked into the area, looking around. He saw the what was to be seen and took a deep breath. Relaxing before the tournament began. One more day. The opening ceremony was tomorrow, and he couldn't be anymore ready. As he walked along the path, he could hear the sound of a leg connecting with a wooden surface. He looked around and saw someone kicking a log, seemingly training. Rei smiled and figured it was time he introduced himself.
"Hey there!" He waved at the man.
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Posted: Sat May 03, 2008 5:38 am
"Huh?"
Leon stopped his movements in mid-kick, and slowly turned around, lowing his leg in a somewhat mechanical way, following the motions of unbending his knee, twisting his torso, and finally lowering his leg. He raised his left arm up to his face, and wiped his brow with the white sweatband on his wrist.
"Hello!"
He replied, casually walking over so that they were in a more socially accepted distance from one another to be having a conversation.
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Posted: Sat May 03, 2008 6:47 am
Rei saw the man walking to him, so he began to meet him half way. When they were close enough, Rei extended his right arm.
"My name is Rei. Nice to meet ya."
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Posted: Mon Jun 09, 2008 3:44 am
Too much time on one hand can be a bothersome thing to endure. But having nothing much to do, and with little actions to spare, the swordsman was sitting near the outskirts of the Colosseum with the head leaning against the stone structure, one leg braced up and resting in a lazy act of solitude.
"Tsk..."
Too much time is bothersome indeed. Makes him remember the things that should be left forgotten, or things which is of no value...
Makes him remember things he doesn't want to.
And for now, all he could do is to sit and wait until his time is up, and see for himself the results of his match for the second round.
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Posted: Thu May 07, 2009 8:42 pm
You Will Never Be A ManTakamura stops outside the stone structure, the wall rising before him like an impenetrable barrier. "So this is it huh?" he asks himself before lightly gripping the brim of his straw hat and lifting his head skyward to peer up at the wall, the shadow of the stadium shielding his eyes from the harsh sunlight.
Takamura had traveled long and hard to find this place, crossing continents and even time itself, thanks to the anchient magic of an old wizard. Takamura had traveled the land looking for the tournament of the ages before finding the old man, who said he had been granted the knowledge of such a tournament. He claimed that people of all races and times in history went there by their own means to participate.
Intrigued Takamura sat with the man for a day before making up his mind to enter. It was then that the man cast his spell, catapulting Takamura into this realm, for lack of a better word. After many days of travel he had arrived, finally at his destination so that he could truly claim the title of worlds greatest fighter of all time.
Smiling to himself as he lowered his head, hiding his face with the brim of his straw hat, Takamura entered the arena to sign up for the tournament. He was in, having enough yen to pay the entryfee, and still have some left over just in case he needed it. The prize money wouldn't go to him, though he would keep a small portion. Instead it would go to those who needed it more, the sick, the injured, the poor.
As the shadow of the arena engulfed him Takamura made his way past men and women, all wearing armors he had never seen before, and some he had. This is it. he told himself as he continued on towards the center of the stadium, anxious to see the crowed of people that had gathered. He wouldn't hold back, he couldn't hold back. For Takamura this was it, the pinnacle of everything he had worked for thus far.
Soon it would be time. His name would be called, and then the crowds would be cheering for the unknown fighter from Kyoto, they would be cheering for him. He smiled wryly to himself as the thoughts crossed his mind, the visions of himself in his minds eye as he kept his face hidden until his first fight, whenever that would be.
((Hope this isn't too long. I got carried away)) Unless You Are A Gentleman
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Posted: Mon Jun 22, 2009 5:07 pm
Em-
After his fight, and after limping his way out of the arena, Em couldn't help but explode into mist, fluttering through the day and up into the air. Only to swirl down into the shade of the forest.
Manifesting the hurt officer right there a mere few feet into the canapoy. With a simply focus, he'd blast a hole into the ground. After such, he'd fall into the ditch, pulling the dirt of his grave down over his persons.
It was here that Em would sleep, Heal more realistically, until his next bout.
Each breath drew in energy; each exhale released pain.
Em would be fine by the next fight. Or so he hoped.
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Posted: Thu Jun 25, 2009 10:24 pm
-Em [Wrast day of recovery before round two- Zen normal time]
Come the third morning though; a perfectly healed Em would rise from the grave. Paler then usual, and not a bit frail from the extended rest. Preternatural bodies rock-
Any who; At this point; he'd just flop himself down against that tree that had shaded his bed for so long.
With that; he'd pull out the teeth of his former foe, examining the stained objects while deciding how best to mount them on a necklace.
They did need to be proudly displayed after all.
^_^
Aside from this relaxing; he'd just wait for the pairings of round two; fairly confident due to how he felt he'd done in round one.-
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Posted: Fri Jun 26, 2009 11:22 pm
Em-
The figure heaved a sigh of relief as he flopped back against the tree in front of his hole. The walk from the infirmary was rather nice, proving without a doubt that the figure hadn't lost any mobility after almost three days of sleeping in the energies of mother earth.
Not only that; but now after a hunch had lead to the truth; the officer would smile down at the few objects he removed from pocket, splaying them out over the lap of his gray uniform pants. A moment of examining and he'd pick up the needle to eye it cautiously.
"Hmm...Should work...Just gota be gentle.."
With that, he'd pick up the first blood stained pearly and hold the needle between his pointer, and thumb, rolling it at insane speeds, with control that only preternatural strength could allow in the matter.
Rather slowly and keenly the dhampir began drilling holes through each of the teeth. Once finished, stringing each one onto a length with a knot to settle them in place. With all the objects tied in place; he'd form a latch and noose for the ends of the article of jewelry after cutting the strip from the spool.
After arts and crafts time was finished; Em'd examine the space between each digit, and approve his craftsmanship in spacing each tooh out evenly. Holding it up to note how it'd hand the teeth perfectly down one's chest-
"Heh..."
A memento. Though he may have never got to wear it. The keep sake would go into his inner coat breast pocket for now. No need to be offensive or unsporting by wearing his previous foe's teeth around.
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Posted: Thu Jul 16, 2009 10:19 pm
Somehow Em had carried himself out on his own feet. Trailing blood, the officer made his way back to the tree he had used to recover from the first round. Really he just wanted to lay down and die at this point. His eyes were bloodshot, mouth dry, heart pacing even slower then it’s usual half-dead rate.
Yet still; a small crowd had gathered near his grave. Most of them cheering, and yelling for the man when he had shambled within view. Never would he have believed it if not for the wave of children that bum rushed him with slips of paper and tickets and pens.
The half alive contestant signed it all. Every single last person who was kind enough to support him was given at least some attention. Regardless of the fact; that he was still very much bleeding from various puncture wounds in his arms and legs and chest.
Finally when the last kid had been patted on the head and shoved off with his family; Em would heave a sigh and stroll up to his hole. Simply flopping down there about six feet into the earth to stare up at the branches of the tree above him.
-Sigh.
“Win or lose, this was a worth while experience…”
After physically winning his first round; then losing. He had no idea how the judges would view the bout that just transpired. Yet at least it showed that a few fans had enjoyed the spectacle. The dhampir would close his maroon eyes after a few moments of pondering on this, passing fully into a much needed revitalizing sleep.
Hopefully when he awoke; he‘d still be in this competition.
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Posted: Sun Aug 30, 2009 9:28 pm
There he was...
Alone standing quietly against one of the large stone columns offset by nature it seems... The large ivy riddled pillar worn with age provided a nice cool feel to the touch, mostly across his back. Ertai would hide himself it seems from the other fighters and civilians... His eyes wept with a sort of melancholy about them, his pale blue reflecting orbs just loomed in the shade, following the dust blowing gently in the wind... His hair was not black, yet a soft warm brown, like that of a child... His face was not stern or drawn to a frown, yet it held such a simple tweak, as if he was thinking deeply, pleasantly...
His fingers would dance against his leg, the soft black fabric of his loose hanging shirt would twist in ungloved hands... He felt so alive, just to feel for once with out knowing what it truly was... He breathed slow, savoring each breath... Calm...
His eyes would dance up slightly seeing a young couple taking their child to the games. He felt so inspired... Quickly he moved, carelessly and benevolently towards a case by his feet. His hands darted as he flipped the latches open... Nothing but darkness and dust came out as he pulled from its contents a violin... No weapon or trick to be had...
Bending at his knees he would slowly push himself up, not will himself up... His cheek resting gently against the dark wood. His eyes closed softly as he started to play... Play his sad song, his lament...
Drifting softly through his haunting music, his eyes would open slightly only for brief moments, not to see if people were watching, but to see if he was still alive for what he has done...
He stands no longer the feared tyrant of the multi-verse, he stands a man...
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Posted: Sun May 23, 2010 7:45 pm
Laced fingers, hands calmly cupped together in his lap. Crossed legs, a man sitting on one of the Colosseum outskirts' wooden benches. Usually, an individual would let their legs hang over the metal frame, back supported by the groove of the seat - not this fellow. Missing his trademark glasses of old, both eyes shut with each gust of wind resisted by a stoic yet relaxed posture.
Fame was new to the four-year veteran of the infamous Budokai, [Omi Barsait]. A hermit and a drifter even at his admittedly younger age, place and power - status, position. None of it ever meant a thing. What use was strength in clout when one could have more personal means of power? However, it was inescapable these days; this fame. Whatever folks thought of him in morality and personality aside, this was a man who had exploits that earned his name the role of being repeated through small-scale wars, his prize-fighting accomplishments, and his opposition of several larger-status figures.
"Yes, I suppose I can't toss it away- so," Lids popping open with both of his eyes pupils glaring through the air like blades shredding reality, "If I cannot deter a following, then I must utilize it. I hate destiny and I hate anyone thinking they know the future before it occurs, but if there is fate, then we've already drowned in it.."
Both of those relaxed hands, so gentle in their gauntlet-coated embrace, suddenly tensed audibly with the most forceful intensity.
"Midus. You are a stepping-stone to my desires. I feel some tinge of guilt, shredding apart your fortune and future both. But it shall be done, definitely."
.. As quickly as the lengthy-haired fighter's ambition flooded his mind, so too did it fade with both of those hands releasing - then cradling his reclining head, back happily pushing back against the graciously supplied bench support. Now, his eyes could take in the blue skies above, white drifts flowing amidst that endless enjoyable void.
"Comfortable~.." Omi had skirted media harassment and made his way unto competition grounds. Surprisingly relaxed, was the man with a crimson blade hanging out of his left gauntlet, and two pauldrons of menacing snake heads upon his shoulders. Nothing menacing, simply at rest.
'Til combat began..
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Posted: Mon May 24, 2010 10:45 am
"...he doesn't look very tasty......"
That was the first thing to pop out of The Masked's mouth, even as her ruby-eyed and black-masqued face slid over the skyward gaze of her target. Her stringy red-and-black hair hung about her in a deranged mess, complimenting the color scheme of her face--well, her entire outfit, really. Red-and-black swirls danced across her strapped jacket, and juxtaposed to the straight verticals on her pants which were, in turn, mirrored by the slender curves of her like-colored katanas: one fully crimson red, the other fully midnight black. All of this topped off on the ends by black gloved and black combat boots, and none of it speaking to the idea of "mental clarity."
She had been previously wandering the outskirts of the massive Colosseum, bemoaning to her mind's illusions the woes of her plight--she was to return to the current prison of The No-Longer-Quite-So-Little Master with news of The Master's eventual arrival, but The poor and deranged Masked had up and gotten lost. She was fairly certain one of her mind's three fragments knew quite clearly the direction of her intent, but with her stomach growling as loud as it was it was quite difficult to listen, much less understand, The Ghost's words.
A "ghost" which, consequently, was standing on the other side of the bench, long and lanky arms crossed before his thin and bony form, his loose and bloodied bandages hanging about a body only Daria could see. His eyeless sockets stared down upon the man in the bench with furrowed brows, and when he lifted his noseless face he would whisper into Daria's head without the slightest movement of his stitched slit of a mouth. "THAT is NOT for eating, Deej..."
<< In case it's not clear, DJ's schizophrenic, and that last paragraph is one of the things she sees in her head ;D >>
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