View Full Version : Battle for the Most Handsome
08-13-2011, 12:55 PM
This will be a battle between the lovely Mrs Weaving and myself, Merry Gentry. A private battle, to determine who is more handsome. Tom Brady from the New England Patriots or Hugo Weaving, of Matrix fame. The stakes are higher than they have ever been and the loser will be forced to admit publicly to the great winner of the validity of the claim to be more smexyier than the loser for a time to be determined by the awean8.
Take your seats ladies and gentlemen, it's going to be Epic.
Each contestant has 10 posts to complete this battle. Judging will commence at the end of the posting between us. Judges decision is final.
08-18-2011, 02:38 PM
The day dawned overcast. A slight mist was still in the air and the temperature had that cool, crisp fall setting. It bordered almost on chilly. The type of day when you knew it would be cool enough for a light jacket, but that the jacket would soon be forgotten once the sun reached its peak in a few hours.
The arena was ready, as always for new challengers to step forth and engage in battle. It was a throw back to the days of knights and kings. Oval shaped with a mixture of clay and dirt. Hard packed and worn by countless feet over the years. Small tufts of grass, still shiny with dew from the night grew along the edges as if in defiance of the hard landscape. The sides contained simple wooden benches. The entire field enclosed in sun faded wooden railings, in an effort to keep the battle contained. Railings that once contained paint, bright and shiny in its newness, were now faded to a dull grey from years of weather and abuse. . At one end of the oval arena was the entrance for the contestants, the other the judging stand.
The worn and simple benches were now silently being filled, in anticipation of the battle about to commence. All manners of creature had arrived to bear witness to this grand event, human and non-human alike. A crowd of epic proportions would be in attendance on this day. They jockeyed and shifted for the best viewing position available to them on the hard benches. Sitting side by side to watch in complete camaraderie, content to wait patiently for the start, knowing it was not far off.
Soft murmurs and snatches of subdued conversations could be heard as they filled the arena to capacity. They would get their chance to voice their pleasure, or displeasure shortly and the energy was tangible from the crowd.
In the holding area at one end of the arena, her soft pansy purple color eyes slipped open, the dark lashes fluttering briefly as her eyesight adjusted to the dim lighting. A small wicked smile played across her lips, her eyes brightening with the smile as it widened across her features.
She instantly knew where she was. She had been summoned to fight once more. The arena beckoned her down to her core. She loved the gore, the horror, the crowd, all of it. This was her moment to shine, and she knew she would bask in blood this day. She had been tested before and welcomed the challenge to do so again. She methodically checked her weapons, going over everything to ensure it was intact. She was ready and with a sneer she pushed the large wooden doors before her open wide and stepped into the ring.
“Bring me blood” she screamed aloud as she stepped in the end of the ring and made her way to the middle, throwing her hands in the air in defiance. The crowd was immediately on their feet and shrieked back in delight that the battle had begun.
08-22-2011, 04:50 PM
Zelda Bouton looked around in surprise as she suddenly found herself in a dimly lighted hallway of some sort. She raised her left arm and turned the palm of her hand towards the ceiling of the hallway. A moment later, a medium sized flame appeared in her hand, illuminating the area and revealing it to be the holding area of an arena. She reached her right hand across her body and wrapped it around the hilt of her sword. Once she was sure that it was there, she walked calmly towards the doors to the arena.
When she reached the door, she extinguished the flame, pulled the hood of her cloak over her head, and pushed the doors open. The spectators in the arena cheered as she strode onto the dirt field. As she walked, she caught sight of a figure that was standing in the center of the field. She stopped a few feet away from her opponent and drew her sword.
"Who are you and why are you fighting me?" She asked
08-28-2011, 04:31 PM
Calliope watched the entrance of her competitor with grim determination, a cloak covering the other’s face. It was always that initial glimpse that gave her some anxiety. The question always circling the start, who or what would come through that door? She recalled battles of the past where she had faced gargantuan opponents and an assortment of strange creatures. She had learned that things were not always as they appeared, so she watched, as he or she stepped forward.
She breathed a slight sigh relief at seeing her that this was probably a human given the slender build and mannerisms displayed so far. She continued to watch as he/she approached, and felt the slight butterflies in her stomach. This was not the fluttering of fear however, that would have been repulsive to her. Their cause was more along the lines of fluttering in anticipation and excitement. Her opponent was of average height and build and that pleased her. It would be an exciting battle. These small thoughts didn’t stop her from immediately tensing as her opponent drew their sword in advance, but then stopped short of attacking.
"Who are you and why are you fighting me?"
She smiled at the question, aahh.. a woman…another piece of the puzzle… and shook her head slightly in inner amusement. They usually wanted to “talk” first. Her lips curled into an evil grin, showing fanged teeth, brilliant white with dangerously sharp points. It was a smile that didn’t reach her purple eyes and had nothing to do with anything pleasant. It was a cold, calculating smile. She drew her own sword, casually pointing it skyward and glancing down the edge seeing the gleaming steel. She ignored her opponent’s question instead studying her weapon and relishing the weight of it in her hand. It was comfortable and comforting in its own way.
Turning her body at a slight angle from her opponent, she swung the sword into the air, savoring the way it cut through the air with a soft whooshing sound. She took pleasure knowing, without a doubt that it would soon be cutting into something else, something much more substantial.
“Does it really matter?” she said aloud, finally choosing to answer and doing so casually, as if she had been asked the time of day and responded in kind. “We come, we fight, we move on… it’s been this way for centuries. I for one live to be here in this ring, fighting. ” She brought the sword back into a ready position, her body crouching slightly as she finally met her opponent’s eyes, with her own. Her eyes now glittering back with morbid anticipation. The butterflies long forgotten. She then swung, aiming her weapon at the other fighter’s neck.
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