Round 3 - IIzak vs. Housemaster [J- Wattz]

[Wattz]

The world is silent. Not a gust of wind, not a flick of a bird’s wings can be heard within the gray. The space is wide and generous; an enormous yet terribly plain cement field with controlled patches of garden flowers and meticulously trimmed trees lined the path. The vegetation, though is should be bright and lively, is muted. The sky is a bright white color, though is not blinding, and the smooth cement of the courtyard seems to reflect it.

The combatants stand at either end, while the harlequin stands in the middle. She is small, scraggly, greasy, and the yellowed teeth stretch so far it seems as if her mouth is too big for her face.

The shadows the combatants cast are immense, while the harlequin has none.

She claps and cackles with glee.

“Jolly good, jolly good, such a glorious show!
Such might shows the tree, such grace shows the boy,
now pitted against one another as foes.
So what shall you do when your souls are the toys?”

No longer do the combatants cast shadows, as they snake free of their bonds. Vague figures now seem to surround the gray of the courtyard, though their outline is subtle enough that they are hardly noticeable.

“Do you hear them? Their rich desires, their jeers?
They see you, they feel you; not a want in disguise.
This world is their own, and out of love they see fear.
Their whispers speak truths and their claws discern lies."

She disappears.

---

Throughout the battle, you may make the shadows whisper to your character, to entice them as a siren might a sailor. Use your imagination, but be weary that they do not mean well (though for now they appear to), and can delve into your character’s deepest wants and desires. I'd like to see some creativity in how your characters handle this kind of vague direction on a story-telling level as well on a combat level.

After each combatant has had four turns [eight posts in total], there will be a small change to the field.

At the toss of a coin, Housemaster goes first.

[Housemaster]

Awashed, healed anew as if nothing had happened, the old tree stood upright in confused reflection. One second prior this, he was aiding a large, but gentle creature put a halt to an enormous spinning arena made by industrious fingers. Of all the misfortunate tools at man's disposal, fingers were the most destructive of them all. Its not their brute force that level trees or silence wood, but their tools crafted from nibbly fingers, always gnawing, hacking, sawing, chopping... greedy and destructive.

No, this place was different... it felt devoid of life. The Wo'dan's sight could spy the plants and trees in organized fashion, gardens to signify dominance over nature. Trimmed and cut and arranged neatly in pretty patterns, showing lifeless organization that lacks any natural splendour. The smooth cement felt unwelcome on the roots of his feet, twisting and squirming for any signs of good rich soil or grass, what the old tree would have loved to rest upon some damp soft moss now... But now he was faced with what appeared to be another challenge.

"Ummmmm.... I amm... aumm, confused..." he hummed musically, trying to get a proper sense of things. Even his understanding of what a tournament entails lacks truth: thinking it involved helping environments grow.

Although his skin was adapted to harvest sunlight for energy, the light here seemed lifeless and empty. He suspected little to no help from his cousins of wood and root either, judging their growth as halted and muted. It almost seemed as if this place stood still...

"I... haummmm.... dislike this place..." He voiced, sensing he was not alone in this ordeal.

“Do you hear them? Their rich desires, their jeers?
They see you, they feel you; not a want in disguise.
This world is their own, and out of love they see fear.
Their whispers speak truths and their claws discern lies."

The wo'dan generally stood prepared whenever someone new arrived, but his senses could not pick up the voice in question. A mystery to remain unsolved as the voice's body faded away. Hu'natu's spirit was dampened, he wanted to talk to Tal'set again as his departure made him feel as an old friend, long lost...

[IIzak]

Artemis blinked twice, adjusting to the rapid change in the scenery around him. He grumbled to himself as he surveyed his surroundings, knowing that there could only be one reason for him to be forcibly sucked away from his home. They wanted him to fight again. Relishing at the chance of his death, he looked on, stone-faced, towards a masked figure that casted no shadows. A sing-song voice reached his ears, grating on his nerves, and setting a shiver down his back.

“Jolly good, jolly good, such a glorious show!
Such might shows the tree, such grace shows the boy,
now pitted against one another as foes.
So what shall you do when your souls are the toys?”


The entire area seemed... unnatural. It took Artemis a moment to figure out exactly what was causing him such discomfort, but eventually he discerned the reason. "It's far too quiet" Artemis thought to himself, gazing at the arena in which he was expected to fight. There were no signs of any intelligent life, besides the masked figure he assumed was to be the judge for the bout.

He gazed at the meticulous grooming of the shrubbery; especially the statue that seemed carved straight out of a tree; and at the cold, emptiness of the ground, and that shiver again crept up his spine. He gasped as the statue began to speak, its voice a deep, musical hum. Distracting himself from what he assumed to be his own looming insanity, Artemis checked his equipment... and then gasped in shock, as he watched his shadow snake away from his body, creeping away at the order of some unnatural force and stopping at the edge of the arena to stand guard at the border, like a silent sentry, daring him to cross its path.


“Do you hear them? Their rich desires, their jeers?
They see you, they feel you; not a want in disguise.
This world is their own, and out of love they see fear.
Their whispers speak truths and their claws discern lies."

"Gone were the days when a man fought in a proper Colosseum, and he fought real creatures. Men and beasts, not beastmen and trees" Artemis thought to himself, falling back into memories of his previous life of servitude and combat. Artemis stayed this way for several minutes, a glossy look cast over his face, before remembering where he was.

Shaking his head in an attempt to focus, he cast his eyes over the battlefield, searching for his opponent, to check and see if he had made a move. All he could see, however was the plant life that he had noticed before. Flowers and bushes scattered throughout the courtyard, and the tree-man remained where he had stood before. Resigning to himself that he wasn't insane, and that he wasn't hallucinating, Artemis began his pre-battle parlay.

Dipping his head in a bow towards his opponent he called out in a loud voice, "Hello, my fellow combatant. I am called Artemis. I pray that you speak your name before we battle, that way I mean know the being I do battle with." With his preliminary pleasantries out of the way, Artemis unsheathed his blade, twirling it in circles as he felt its familiar weight. His focus sharpened to razor keenness as he awaited a reply from his opponent.

[Kris]

Housemaster has dropped out of the Rumble, meaning IIzak moves on to the next round!

This thread is now locked.