Round 1: Duelist (Isobella) VS. Summoner (Dagon) - Judge NecroNama

[NecroNama]

http://media-cache-ec0.pinimg.com/736x/75/32/8a/75328a7061bf39d3e4f13d244e2da0ee.jpg

Once your senses return to you, the loud blaring sound of a alarm matched with red flashing lights take your eyes and ears. A sense of foreboding washes over you once you look out a nearby window. The sight you see is that of stars and a planet below with a massive black void, as well as a massive object floating not far away launching lights at the object you stand within, matched by explosions that rock your surroundings and cause people to scream in pain, confusion, and fear.

Within this ship you appear within, bodies lay on the floor, doors are constantly opening and closing on their own while others don't close due to their doors being broken off or lodged in the door way. Various debris litter the area around you. Parts of the ship lay upon those dead, while random explosions within cause flames to appear out of nowhere, catching any unlucky soul that happened to be there on fire.

A massive explosion comes from the rear of the ship causing all on board to fall or stumble into a wall or similar surface. Seconds after, the sounding alarm fades away and soon a voice booms overhead stating "We're going down. Repeat, We're going down. Everyone make it to a li....-static-" Thou the ship you appear in seems lost, the ship just outside is still firing away with no mercy, as if they want the ship you are in to be nothing but scrap.

(After each combatant makes two (2) posts, the GM will make a post on any changing conditions.)

You have 5 posts per person and 72 hours to respond between each post.
By the choices made by two cats, a rubber band, a piece of paper, and some string cheese, Sonic will be going first.

[Sonic]

Dagon despised fish tanks. He realized this soon enough.

Though his memories were gone, he believed that somewhere in his past there must have been a tragic moment when he was a babe and a fisherman had caught him by his tail, reeled him upwards as though to toss him into the sun, and placed him inside a dusty fish tank that had in it more algae than fish.

The possibility that his past may have had a torturous element in it wasn’t surprising in the least. His memories may have been gone, but whoever had taken them away should have also taken away his instincts; those were what mattered, after all. Right now his instincts were telling him that (1) not many people liked him—he was a giant, serpentine sort of creature whose first feeling upon waking was not confusion, but hate—and (2) he could really go for a snack.

His stomach groaned approval of this latter thought. Dagon looked round his glass encasement and noticed a group of fish huddled in the corner, far away from him. They weren’t very large and their faces didn’t seem capable of eloquently expressing a wide repertoire of emotions. However, the emotion they wore now was one Dagon felt he had seen on a myriad of faces before. It was fear. Plain and simple. He chuckled, huskily, and moved towards them—the fish moved back as though they and Dagon were opposing magnets—when, a peal of noise followed by flashing red lights exploded around him.

He stopped, and for the first time he registered his surroundings—which, before, he had thought were limited to the fish tank alone. The scene which unraveled beyond the glass walls was a chaotic one, but oddly funny. Dagon watched it as though it was a pantomime being performed exclusively for him.

Doors opened, closed, and then opened again, as if a ghost couldn’t make up its mind as to where to go; corpses strewn haphazardly across the floor rolled listlessly back and forth; fire crawled throughout the room, like lichen, and if Dagon wasn’t mistaken, outside the window, situated just beyond his glass imprisonment, there was a large spaceship currently shooting a variety of weapons usually found in a science fiction novel—something by Frank Herbert, say—at the spaceship he was currently inside.

He had time to think: “Why the devil am I even in a spaceship?” before he heard another explosion—this one audibly louder than the others—come from the rear of the ship. Whatever that explosion had destroyed must have been important because Dagon suddenly felt the ship tip forward at an unwelcoming degree. He was propelled into the glass with a resounding “thud.”

The fish tank tipped forward and crashed onto the floor in a myriad of small, sharp pieces that would give someone a deep cut if they weren’t careful enough. However, they shifted harmlessly underneath Dagon’s intrepid, leathery skin. He shook his head, and rose to his full five meters. The ship had just enough room so that it didn’t come into contact with his head. Still, there wasn’t a lot of moving room which was unfortunate. He rolled his shoulders, and looked out at his surrounding behind rheumy eyes.

From somewhere above came a sonorous yet, nasally voice: "We're going down. Repeat. We're going down. Everyone make it to a li—” and then nothing.

Dagon didn’t know how that warning was to end, but he was smart enough not to think about it. Maybe when he was in a safer place he would.

He slithered forward—he had a large tail that was great for ‘slithering’—and not too far from him he found his Olyndicus lying propped against a wall, as though indifferent to the disaster that surrounded it. The Olyndicus was a six foot long lance forged somewhere rather important though Dagon couldn’t remember. Scarlet pincers protruded from either side of its head, and odd gems were embedded just above where the shaft ended.

This was wrong. He didn’t know much about imprisonment, but his instincts—strong as they were—told him that it wasn’t smart to keep your prisoner’s weapon only several feet away from where he was imprisoned. Dagon rubbed an arm across the mass of tendrils that comprised his mouth, and, with hesitancy, drew his Olyndicus.

He brandished it, looked around, and when nothing jumped out at him—no booby traps whatsoever—he settled the lance at his side. The ship was still falling, but not as quickly as it had been before—at least not to Dagon’s eyes. He felt as if some God of Silence had cast a spell throughout the entire ship; there were no more explosions, no more screaming, no more fires…

But I’m not alone.

His instincts told him that, too and he couldn’t help but shudder at the thought. He tightened his grip on his lance, and uttered a sequence of words that were in a tongue he knew well. These words seemed to float around him before plummeting all at once a foot or two in front of him. From where these words landed, a small toad-like creature materialized. Its red eyes went over Dagon’s form and the same fear that had once gripped the fish—they were probably dead now, poor bastards—flashed across its face.

“Master,” it said, bowing its head like a pauper.

“Search the ship.” Dagon’s tone was curt, terse, and left no room for questions. “See if you can find a raft to get us off it.” The toad-like creature bowed its head again and hopped away, leaving Dagon by himself.

That feeling of not being alone; of someone being close, clung onto Dagon’s heart. He wasn’t scared—not like the fish or the murloc that he had summoned—but his body tensed nonetheless. If someone attacked him, he would kill them.

He didn’t need his instincts to tell him that.

[Kris]

I'm sorry Sonic, but your post has come about super late. We have already announced your absence as a reason for your disqualification.

A judge will contact you soon.

Koti~ is the winner and continues to the next round, this thread is closed.