[DEATHMATCH] Galleon Vs. One - Printable Version

Paws flailed, clawing at shifting sands that threatened to consume him whole. It was just enough to keep afloat, to keep himself from suffocating. Adrenaline worked to numb some of the pain, burying it under panic. But there was only so long he could keep this up.

He was a creature of sprints, not marathons, after all.

Something under the sand shifted. He barely noticed it in his fight to stay alive, until something huge slammed into him, like a malicious truck. Abruptly, he was in the air. Better that his previous situation, but not by much.

He landed awkwardly on his hind left leg, letting out a pained shriek as the joint was bent in a way it was not meant for. It wasn't broken- thank the caves it wasn't broken- but it hurt to put weight on. And with the pain now lancing up the opposite leg, he was running out of options.

Maybe a smarter gembound would have forfeited right then, but One wasn't a smart gembound. I mean, he entered this whole fight in the first place.

Okay, so this fight wasn't super exciting, but Nemean was loving it anyway. Why, you ask? Well, let her tell you. In her own words.

"THAT FUCKING SAND-SHARK IS COOL AS SHIT! WHY DON'T WE HAVE ANY SAND-SHARKS?!" So, that was reason one--and the sheer volume of Nemean's voice might have been influenced by the cocktail of unknown contents in one hand. (It was very glowing pink with golden glitter.) Reason two: "THE LITTLE GUY'S GOT FIRE! I LOVE IT!" (She hiccuped.)

Now... how long had this been going? ...Ehh, it didn't matter. Nemean figured a fight could always do with a touch of Draconua. Honestly? Drac was turning out to be the best part of this whole shebang. Usually the hazard-makers were little, industrious dudes around the ring's edge, focusing on the match. Or, y'know, the audience--invitation-only, though.

Actually, that'd be pretty cool...

"HAAAAZAAAARD TIIIME!" she bawled, then squinted, swirling her drink. Fuck, no, that wasn't right. She chugged it and threw it aside. Ran through her mental checklist. Magic amplification? Charged. Spotlights? Primed. Confetti? Ready to ROCK.

The music picked up, the lights began a dizzying sweep over the audience. Nemean's voice became a roar that echoed through Orion.

"DOOM DEATH MEGA DEVASTATION--SUDDEN DEATH--ROUND!!!" she screamed. "GET YOUR HAZARDS IN THERE NOW! MAGIC IS GO! I REPEAT: MAGIC IS GOOOO! YOU HAVE FIFTEEN SECONDS TO THROW THEM YOUR BEST FUCKIN' HAZARDS! WREEEECK THEEEEM!"

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~~Draconua~~ The Audience has been called upon to present arena hazards! Magic hazards may be attempted in rolls, and objects may be thrown into the ring, and so forth. Galleon and One must now double-post each round: one roll to continue the fight and then a second roll to avoid the collective (!) hazards. The first to be struck by the hazards before fight's end will be returned to their chrysalis or killed by it, and loses. (Should both fail to dodge, the lower roll will be struck by any hazard(s) they choose, and eliminated.)

Please wait for at least two audience hazards to be posted.

Vedette was foaming at the mouth, shivering and shaking before she let out a wild whoop of joy at Nemean's cry to the audience. FINALLY. CHAOS! DESTRUCTION! HELLFIRE!!!

"Yesss... YES! YEEEEES!!!", she screamed as her magic took effect, oil dripping from her nose as darkness spread across the arena slowly like a cloud of void, her laughter maniacal as she waited for her beautiful darkness to envelope the contestants and blind them.

"FUCK YOU IN PARTICULAR!", she snarled at One, "PIDDLY LITTLE SHIT-STICK!!"

She had no real reason to insult, only that she'd glanced over at One first and happened to see them. And if she saw someone, well, she had to insult them.

Man, all these fight had been BRUTAL.

Bug wasn't around others enough to be desensitized to this shit. Luckily, she was half cat and half dragon, so she was limited to some horrified shock at the gore and screaming and death, instead of complete and traumatized devastation.

And thankfully (sort of?) some part of her predatory instincts still supplied interest. Mischief, mayhem, a little bit of bloodlust--she wasn't normally the outright malicious sort. Well, she was, but not in a deadly way! Her tricks consisted of spooky whispers around corners and things flying across rooms, not bloody, bone-shattering murder.

But when in Rome, and all that...

Nemean was calling for a hazard. The crowd was going wild. Bug let herself get swept up in it, impishness sparking in her fiery eyes. Okay, then. They want a hazard? I can give them that... uh, probably. She wasn't super well-versed in magic, but she could come up with something, surely. Nothing like the earthen eruptions or black lightning of Draconua, but something more... Bug-styled.

Okay, what've we got..? she thought, looking around. She could see a few little booths and carts--the concession cart nearest to her was a small thing, on wheels, maybe a few feet long and tall. It had corn dogs in a bucket, and popcorn (likewise in buckets) and cold sweet drinks on ice. And alcohol, of course--a ton of booze. (She didn't really get it.) Meat scraps, and-... What should I throw? she thought, pondering.

The answer hit her a moment later, and a feline grin twisted her face. All of it!

The entire cart lifted up--launched through the air--and careened toward the fighters. And this was exactly bug's own brand of Chaos, for it spun like a water wheel as it went, with a beautiful display of corn dogs, popcorn, drinks and meat cascading down like edible confetti the whole way overhead.

"DODGE THAT!" she yowled, hoping she'd hit something in the rapidly-encroaching dark.

Cerilaine had been hovering around for a bit, quietly watching like the polite feline she was. It wasn't her place to really get involved, and nobody had come after her for not participating (yet). So why not have her fun, watching monsters and poor creatures alike tear each other to bits?

She would have to admit, there were a few rather boring fights. Some, too, didn't last long enough- more often than not, the big beast Draconua had been called in to be the deciding factor, despite bleed-outs and slow kills. It was the tension that was the fun part! Sipping her blue drink (who's flavor was aptly named 'blue'), Cerilain sat back on the benches and propped one leg over the other, her tail flicking in annoyance.

The last match of this round, and it was boring as shit.

Of course it'd come down to another draw, one broken by some interference. This time, it was audience participation- well, that seemed intriguing. Hm. Cerilaine's eyes cast out over the others getting involved, hiding the glance with a loud slurp of the melted ice... Thing, in her paws. Hm. She could try something herself- but it'd be a lot to cast in one go, especially with an area this big.

Fish out of water? Not any longer.

Standing with her staff, Cerilaine stretched out her limbs and focused on coalescing the surrounding waters into the arena, a headache rising to her temples immediately. Her mouth felt dry. Water sweated out of her, but nothing came to the dry sands below.

Shame. Letting out a huff, the feline dropped back to her seat with a defeated flop, going straight for her drink again. She'd have to practice that one for later.

For now, time to resume watching the show.

Astatine had been utterly enraptured the second he stumbled upon this place. The LIGHTS! The SOUNDS! The ACTION! It was everything the little lizard was obsessed with, all in one super-sized package. He stood literally on the edge of his seat, cheering at the bloodshed below. Sure, it was a little gruesome at times, but everyone else was shouting, so it seemed to be okay.

Unluckily for him, he had arrived too late to actually participate. So he was limited to simply watching. Not that he was complaining. But when Nemean shouted for the audience to throw in their own hazards, he grinned. FINALLY he got to do SOMETHING!

So he decided to throw in the most hazardous thing he could think of- himself.

Unfortunately for him, throwing yourself into a 20-foot pit is generally never a good idea. Especially not when everyone else is throwing random junk and magical chaos into said pit. His screaming war-cry turned into genuine panic as he realized Oh. This is a really deep drop. He splatted against the floor of the arena like a fly against a windshield. Someone may be able to catch a glimpse of bright green crystal spreading across his pancake'd form before the magical darkness fully spread across the arena.