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Thread: The Fatal Conflict (GBS2G7) (Round 3: The Infinite Playground!)

  1. #1
    Lankie's Avatar
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    The Fatal Conflict (GBS2G7) (Round 3: The Infinite Playground!)

    Amongst a void of boundless black, there lies an infinite amount of cathedrals. Each one as beautiful as the last, each one a monument to the life and death of all things, they float in the ether, silently.

    Except one. In the centre amongst these immaculate creations lies one cathedral most stunning of them all, a crowning symphony which governs the constant of all life; death. The silence of this sacred place has been sullied by the echo of cold steel clashing together.

    Two silhouettes find themselves locked in combat. One of which is impossible to describe; a constant shifting of perspective and appearance made its profile unattainable, the only thing recognisable being its brilliant white robe and an old farmer’s scythe. The other shadow, curiously, belonged to a man, he wore dark leather clothing and a blood red cloak, wielding a sword stained scarlet with the blood of a thousand men. He emanated a feeling of hate, while a wide grin plastered his face.

    Both beings clashed with the ferocity of exploding stars. Both being a seemingly even match for one another. “Insolent man.” Spoke the robed being, his voice fluctuating as much as his appearance was. “I am The Redeemer. The Grim Reaper. Death. There is nothing a mere man can do to harm me.” The man took a step back from the fight, he tilted his head back and simply laughed, his cackle cut through both The Redeemer and the cathedral, filling the void with his hateful voice.

    “A Man I may be.” He slumped his head back facing The Redeemer, bearing his teeth in an over exaggerated manner. The Man moved with swiftness unlike anything seen, a single strike was all it took to knock Death back and launch is trademark scythe spinning through the air. The Redeemer’s features had finally settled on that of a wizened old man, a look of bemusement on his face. “But mere! No, no no! My good friend, I am quite the opposite.”

    “You fool!” The Redeemer shouted as he backed into the stone throne of the cathedral. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing?! Without me, there will be no organisation over death! The entire Cosmos would descend into Chaos!”

    The man closed his eyes and raised his empty hand, seemingly gesturing him to stop his talking. This was not the case as pulsating crimson glyphs surrounded his palm he opened his eyes, showcasing glowing red eyes and a wild psychotic grin. “I don’t care!”

    “N-no! Thi-This can’t be! This is impossi-“

    The Redeemer never got to finish his panic ridden sentence, as he was enveloped by an aurora of pure energy and will power. When The Man was finished there was nothing but his ashen robe left.

    “This proves it.” The Man says, sheathing his blood stained blade. “I am the greatest!” He threw his arms up in the air in victory and giggled madly. “I am the strongest! The most skilled! The epitome of Humanity! No, of ALL LIFE!” He threw the pale robe from the stone throne and placed himself there like some twisted king. “Not even Death himself could silence me.” He clicked his fingers, in its place a tome appeared in a poof of smoke, his other hand produced a quill, The Man’s smile broadened. “The rules of Death are at my whim! Ultimate power in my grasp! I couldn’t think of a better person than myself to rule all things!” He brought his quill down to the ancient book.

    “Kindly halt.” The Man froze in position and twisted his head to the side. There he saw what looked like another man, adorning an almost shining white mask and a suit which showcased a universe. The man could only ask one question. “Why?”

    “Many reasons.” The Prestidigitator began pacing slowly across the seated Man. “Reasons that I care not to enlighten to a nobody like you.” He paused to pull an elegant wine glass from nowhere, he swirled the burgundy contents within. “Nether the less, the previous Redeemer spoke truth. You cannot alter the rules of death. It will, at the very least, ruin plans for me and a few others.”

    The Man cared not about this Grand Master’s rambling what he did care was of two words it said. “Nobody? Cannot?” He forced out a laugh. “Then allow this ‘nobody’ to show what he can do! Besides, rules are meant to be broken!” The man raised his quill as if to deal a final blow to an enemy. “Wait.” The Man gave an insane smile, “Do I look like a waiter!? Hah hah hah!” The Man brought the plume down to the book at an alarming speed.

    “What if I told you there was a game?” The Prestidigitator’s voice lost its usual cool demeanour as an air of urgency crept into it. The Man paused mere millimetres away from the aged paper of the volume. “…Go on.” “Eight contestants, seven rounds, a fight to the death across the Multiverse.” The Man stared into the shaded voids of where The Prestidigitator’s eyes should be; he contemplated it for a little while, the tension made it seem a much longer period of time. Finally, The Man slammed the book shut and reapplied his psychotic grin. “Sure! That sounds like something I could do! Sounds fun!”

    The Prestidigitator returned to a more relaxed performance. “Excellent. I’m sure a Man of your talents can find eight souls for such an occasion. You require a title.” The Man stood from his throne and gave lacklustre wave towards the Grand Master. “Yeah. Whatever. I’ll do that.” The Prestidigitator returned to his Phenomenal Fracas, content that he managed to avert catastrophe, for now. The Man walked to the middle of the hallowed hall of the cathedral.

    He gave a small chortle as he stamped on the floor, a huge hole opened up, leading down to what seemed like an endless abyss. “Alright afterlife!” The man produced a fishing rod out of nowhere and threw the line down the hole. “Let’s see what souls you got for me! The Redeemer’s coming for you! We’re gonna have ourselves Fatal Conflict!”



    Grand Battle, season two, round seven is a go go! I'll outline the basics for people who somehow don't know what this is. Eight players, eight characters, seven rounds, each round you'll all be thrown into a battle to the death with each over in a colourful environment. The person who has the most ineffective writing in the round will be the one who dies.

    Reserves will last for 2-3 hours, no chain reserves allowed!

    If you want some more in-depth rules then I suggest you mosey down to the original Grand Battle to get yourself a little more acquainted.

    CHARACTER SUBMISSION FORM:

    Fill in this form if you want in! I'm lenient with what characters you can have. However you must abide by this one rule

    YOUR CHARACTER HAS TO BE DEAD.

    The Redeemer is, after all picking his combatants from the multiverse's many afterlives. Other than that, simply fill this in!

    Name: The name your character.

    Gender: Male, Female, other, (although if it IS other than please provide an appropriate pronoun for it)

    Font colour: To differentiate you from all other posts! Red (that is #FF0000) is taken but anything else is fair game. Background colours are acceptable too, just make sure the font is readable in the end of the day!

    Race: The species of your character. This being a Grand Battle, very nearly anything goes.

    Weapon: What is your character armed with, you can leave this blank if you want.

    Abilities: Simply, what can they do? What skills do they have? What makes them special? I would advise on not making your character too overpowered though.

    Description: How do they act? What do they look like? All that jazz. You're are welcome to provide a picture if you want aswell!

    Biography: What's their history? How did they die?

    THE PLAYERS!

    1. Bellona Achillia - Eversist - #FF5500
    2. Luron Timerius - Kaitostrike - #008000
    3. Doctor Kaja Lorrden - Ixcalibur - #408080
    4. Zachariah Shaw - Sruixan - #404072
    5. Laura Scourge - Piester - #FF0000, Black background
    6. Simphonia - MalkyTop - #000000, White background
    7. Kargrek Strongarm - SleepingOrange - #000040
    8. Scott Williams - Pinary - #004080

  2. #2

  3. #3
    So enthusiastic Dragon Fogel's Avatar
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    Re: The Fatal Conflict! (GBS2G7) (Accepting participants!)

    Worth noting - if your character concept involves being an undead creature of some kind, you can still use them. Just say that their new nature is how they ended up in their world's afterlife - it could be a result of sins committed in life, or it could be because their local god in charge of deciding that is a jerk.

    If you don't think that works for your character for some reason, then any alternate explanations for why they were entered in the battle will have to be run past Lankie.

    Also! The villain battle is next. If your character is villainous, or can be readily tweaked to be villainous, you might consider waiting for that.

  4. #4
    Serf of Hope
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    Re: The Fatal Conflict! (GBS2G7) (Accepting participants!)

    Name: Luron Timerius

    Gender: Male

    Font colour: Dark Green (#008000; Two down from the top left)

    Race: Human

    Weapon: He wields a broadsword, which he keeps unsheathed at most times.

    Abilities: As par to the world he comes from, Luron has a small array of magic. These include basic offensive spells, as well as projectile deflection (this explains his usage of a sword). However, what sets him apart are his, as he calls them, 'epiphanies'. Temporary sights into the future. Although these are rare, and generally only happen when his life is in danger.

    Description: A tall, young man, in his lower 20's. He has medium-length rust-colored hair. Luron wears leather armor covering most of his body. Due to his death-wound, there is a large wound on his chest. Picture coming later.

    Biography:
    Today was the day. Everything he had worked for would finally pay off. All the roads taken, all the days exhausted...



    As a person, Luron is always cautious, almost never leaving his sword sheathed. Before his quest, he was easygoing, but death does things to you. He has hardened, and shuts himself away from anyone else. But maybe, just maybe, there is still some kindness left.

  5. #5
    Card Sharp Ixcalibur's Avatar
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    Re: The Fatal Conflict! (GBS2G7) (Accepting participants!)

    Name: Doctor Kaja Lorrden
    Gender: Male
    Font colour: Sickly Green
    Race: Zombie (Kind of)
    Biography: Kaja was a lonely child who just didn't seem to get on with the other kids. His father would be off for months at a time aiding in the never-ending war against the undead hordes. One day, on a particularly lousy birthday he went to his room to find his mirror broken, and a gift. It was an alchemy set, a series of complicated flasks and tubes that caught Kaja's imagination. Though he never found out who the present had been from he used it constantly, brewing up strange concoctions from the plants of his village. He was a natural ever since the start, seeming to instinctively know how to make the most effective use of his herbs and how to boost his potions potency. Even the village's official pharmacist was in envy of his natural ability.
    As Kaja grew up he found himself increasingly frustrated by the alchemist's tools. He knew he could be better, produce more amazing tinctures and tonics and do so faster but the equipment was holding him back. To this end he commissioned something, a large contraption; a veritable maze of valves, flasks and tubes, specially designed to be worn on a person's back. With this new equipment Kaja was even more impressive. Able to brew basic potions or poisons within mere seconds, with even complicated tonics taking only a couple of minutes to create, whereas before they would have taken days of preparation. He became one of the most noted and influential doctors within the entire human kingdom. That was until he died. He tripped down the stairs of his elegant new mansion and landed impaled on a shard from a broken mirror.
    When he awoke something was different. The alchemical kit which he had worn everywhere was now fitted differently with tubes going directly into his skin. A strange liquid pumped throughout the contraption, somehow keeping him alive and animate despite the bloody hole in his gut. His new condition was impossible to hide; his flesh had already discoloured to a certain extent before he came around. And the pumping of his contraption was tough to ignore. He was exiled from the human kingdom in fear that he had become an undead monster. So he left and lived on his own, in the wilderness; not really alive, and not really dead somehow perpetuated by his own creation. He spent most of his days searching for herbs and creating ever more complex potions just to amuse himself. This was until he was snatched up to participate in The Fatal Conflict.

    Equipment: Aside from his contraption Kaja carries around pouches full of rare, or otherwise illicitly obtained herbs. He has a large stockpile of flasks, including some flasks designed to shatter on impact.
    Abilities: Kaja has a bizarre proficiency in alchemy that others can only dream of. Thanks to his invention he is able to whip up basic potions and poisons in a matter of seconds provided he has the necessary ingredients, and when he does not he is pretty good at improvising. Kaja has a strange instinct that allows him to instinctively discern the potential uses of a new herb by taste alone.
    Description: Kaja's skin is a pale green colour, his eyes are hazel and his hair is short and brown. He wears a long brown jacket, and a white undershirt. These both have holes cut in the back to allow his now irremovable contraption to be accessible at all times. The contraption itself is made of brass and glass. Full of valves and tubes and other complicated mechanisms the contraption is always active, pumping his body with what it needs to stay alive. Under his jacket, he wears a pair criss-crossing straps, attached to which is a number of flasks. Along his belt are a number of pouches containing rare and unusual herbs. He wears a pair of safety goggles at all times.


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  8. #8
    everything you do is a balloon Sruixan's Avatar
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    Re: The Fatal Conflict! (GBS2G7) (Accepting participants!)

    Right, before dinner I best tidy this profile up, hey?
    [12:39:21] Sruixan: But I'm not a person.
    [12:39:23] Sruixan: I'm a cicada.

  9. #9
    KICKIN' RAD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! piester's Avatar
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    Re: The Fatal Conflict! (GBS2G7) (Accepting participants!)

    I got this character from an extremely random 20q in the Irc channel

    Username: Piester
    Character: Laura Scourge
    Gender: Female
    Font Colour: [background=#000000:3orscv34]Red on a black background[/background:3orscv34]
    Race: Demon
    Weapon: An Electric Guitar that when played can control the elements themselves.
    Abilities: She has a pair Of Giant blood red Demon wings growing out of her back.
    Description: Laura wears what a punk rocker would wear, a t-shirt with ripped off sleeves and loose shorts, she has Albino skin, Blood red eyes and Long Brown Hair
    Biography: Laura was a Huge Rockstar in the Distant future, she was Raised from the Depths of hell because she was a metal Demon, a Demon literally made to rock, She was meant to work for the evil Pop Industry that raised her from the dead, but she Killed them all with her bare hands and flew off with a Guitar that she got from them and hexed it so it was able to control the elements themselves,She then started a heavy metal band that went on to make over 50 successful albums and gain a literal cult status, until she decided all of that was getting boring, so she decided to leave in a spur of destruction and return to hell.
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  10. #10
    I Don't Deserve This Title MalkyTop's Avatar
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    Re: The Fatal Conflict! (GBS2G7) (Accepting participants!)

    I will RESERVE! I WILL CONSUME ALL GRAND BATTLES EVERYWHERE EEHEHEHEHEHEHEAHAHAHAH

    Name: Simphonia
    Gender: Female, definitely.
    Font colour: [background=white:1hroqavq]Hmmm, does this work...?[/background:1hroqavq]
    Race: Simphonia is...a music ghost...? A music sprite? In any case, she's dead and music-y.
    Weapon: Simphonia is quite peaceful and doesn't really carry around weapons, if she can carry much around at all. Her own body, however, can be used to attack.
    Abilities: Simphonia can phase through walls if she needs to, form simple shapes in the air, fly, use herself as sharp projectile weapons, typical music ghost stuff. She can travel through paper and the music she hums does have an affect on emotions around her (a mall one at least), but they tend to be the opposite of what you'd expect. Tranquil tunes breed anxiety and cheerful tunes beget irritation. Unfortunately, Simphonia is usually calm and happy.
    Description: Simphonia doesn't exactly have one shape. She looks like she's made up of living music, mostly, sometimes a big black cloud made up of indiscernible notes, sometimes a loose shape of a woman, sometimes some other form or something I dunno. Colors often go along with the tune she hums as well as taste (not many people are willing to taste her though) so one could see clearly (or taste) if she goes out of tune. She usually appears soft and gentle, but when angered, she becomes rather sharp. (Hence the throwing herself around to cut people thing.) She seems rather dreamy and is constantly going around humming some sort of tune whether it is a solo or a whole orchestra piece or a quartet. Her hum, though always there, isn't really intrusive. It only really gets loud when she gets upset or furious or some other strong, negative emotion. As could probably be inferred, Simphonia's tune changes with her emotions. It can be hard to tell whether she can understand speech or not, but it seems like she listens at least some of the time. She likes making friends and feeling helpful and can be surprisingly sensitive. She doesn't seem to remember ever being anything else besides a music ghost and doesn't seem rather concerned about it either way. In life, she may have had synesthesia.
    Biography: Simphonia was a musician when she died, but judging by her simple grave, she was not well-known and possibly not all that good either. Thus, her real name is unknown. She started to haunt a nearby forest after death and stayed there for a few years, just wandering around aimlessly. There wasn't really much for her to do, being a nameless ghost with an unknown past. Some sightings had gotten her into tabloids and at one point there were some forums that speculated about her, but nothing major. She was often left alone, as her chipper songs tended to give everybody around her a nagging feeling, and continued to sing and hum even after she was whisked away.

    Hurm. Maybe this character isn't so great. I guess we'll find out...?

  11. #11
    MFW Eversist's Avatar
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    Re: The Fatal Conflict! (GBS2G7) (Accepting participants!)

    Name: Bellona Achillia

    Gender: Female

    Font colour: #FF5500, a nice red-orange.

    Race: As human as human gets.

    Weapon: A lance, and a Gallic shield (a large, ovular shape), with Medusa's head as a relief on the front. Also armed with a small dirk, which she kept on her before enslaved.


    Abilities: She can BRAWL, and pardon the cliche, is not afraid of death. Gladiators and gladiatrices are trained to fight, as well as trained to die, if not more so.
    She was also trained in wrestling and swordplay, which were two other popular styles of combat.
    Heck, I'm sure if you gave her any sort of traditional, handheld weapon, I'm sure she could do some damage with it.


    Description: Lean and muscular, but not to the point where unnatural. Keeps her hair tied back to keep it out of the way. Wearing very little in way of armor; a simple tunic covers her torso, while bronze shin-pads cover her lower legs. Sandals, of course, garb her feet.
    In addition to a thirst for blood, Bellona had a yearning for knowledge... before she let her obsession overtake her. Being born of a good, wealthy family, her father let peruse whatever subject took her fancy; he in fact, encouraged it. It never took any sort of linear, scholarly track, though, so her general knowledge is patchy.

    Biography:


    Last edited by Eversist; 07-27-2011 at 01:53 AM. Reason: Spellin' Error!

  12. #12
    Insignificant User Not The Author's Avatar
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    Re: The Fatal Conflict! (GBS2G7) (Accepting participants!)

    How do corpses die of inactivity???
    ...But it's probably just me.

    The Magician | The Chariot | The Hermit | The World || The Moon || The Deck

  13. #13
    I Don't Deserve This Title MalkyTop's Avatar
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    Re: The Fatal Conflict! (GBS2G7) (Accepting participants!)

    Sorry, decided to change my color because white on black looks sinister. Also, possibly overdone.

  14. #14
    everything you do is a balloon Sruixan's Avatar
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    Re: The Fatal Conflict! (GBS2G7) (Accepting participants!)


    Name: Zachariah Shaw
    Gender: Male.
    Font colour: #404072
    Race: Human
    Biography: WARNING! TEXT WALL AHEAD!



    Abilities & Weapons: After the events described below, Zachariah Shaw is now a man of two halves. His ghost is still existent, but is now disconnected from his cadaver, as per the agreement. The twist is that, along with the detachment, his corpse has been reanimated as well. There are now two iterations of him about the place, each with half the life of a full soul. They are independent entities; one is not privy to the inner thoughts of another, nor to their other half's actions, but they share the same memories and basic personality.

    The ghost half is a classic ghost – totally intangible normally, he can, through some considerable exertion have an effect on the world around him. Small objects are easy enough, but anything too big and he'll have a problem afterwards. Slipping through objects, be they chairs or walls of bullets, takes no effort at all; all that's required is for him to forget that he's trying to be reasonably normal. His range is by rights unrestricted, but if he ends up going too far from his corpse, movement through the air becomes more like pushing through treacle. Presumably there is some kind of link still present between them.

    The three-day dead Zachariah is a zombie, pretty much; he's still as sentient as a normal human being, having not been dead for too long, but has some difficulties with concentration, the sort that come from your brains starting to decay. Slower than before, both in movement and articulation, but with the superhuman strength that I seem to recall the undead sometimes have.

    Description: Before death he had a reasonably dead-end job in an accountant's office, being a typical twenty-something graduate with bookish tendencies and a passion for a healthy debate, particularly science explaining the rational. Reasonably tall, his hair is almost a literal mop, black in colour, that was forever getting in his eyes. It still does, actually, but it's not much of a problem now, what with it being translucent and all. On the fated night, if it is at all important, he happened to be wearing a scarf and duffel coat. Both still adorn his corpse, though they are a little more ragged than before, and their spiritual versions still clothe his ghost that, for some reason, happens to be slightly tainted purple.
    [12:39:21] Sruixan: But I'm not a person.
    [12:39:23] Sruixan: I'm a cicada.

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  16. #16
    Some Asshole SleepingOrange's Avatar
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    Re: The Fatal Conflict! (GBS2G7) (Accepting participants!)

    Name: Kargrek Strongarm

    Gender: Male

    Font colour: Doubleoh doubleoh forty

    Race: HuMAN

    Weapon: A greataxe called Strombald. The wizard who forged it had notoriously bad spelling, but it's still a flippin enormous ax that bursts into flame on command. He also wears the Bracers of Krog the Indomitable, which give him incredible strength and unbreakable bones.

    Abilities: In case it's not already obvious, Kargrek is the epitome of barbarian. He can drink and fight and seduce and fight and survive in the wilderness and fight. All at the same time, and all with extreme proficiency. Especially the fighting. Because of the bracers, he can lift and carry things that should take fifteen men to shift and punch through walls if he feels like it; obviously, punching through sternums is a lot easier than walls, so there's that too.

    Description: Physically, the afterlife version of Kargrek looks like he did in life: a 6'7" man with an musculature that goes beyond "impressive" in the the realms of "hard to believe", clad only in a loincloth and a pair of apparently-brass bracers. His hair is a mane of mid-back-length black, and his eyes are deepset in a face practically designed to scream manliness. He's scarred in places, but remarkably less so than the usual kind of person who makes it to Gorkella, the warriors' afterlife of this tribe's belief system.

    Personality-wise, he's just about what you'd expect. Brash, loud, impulsive, violent, lecherous... He's certainly not going to be solving many essential conundrums of the universe, but he's not stupid. Stupid doesn't have a very long life expectancy.

    Biography: Living to the ripe old age of 32, Kargrek was the greatest warrior in his tribe for nearly two decades; it was for his amazing feats of strength and his phenomenal skill in battle that he was granted the coveted Bracers of Krog the Indomitable by the high priest of Krog the Indomitable, and he still wears their spectral double in death. Ironically, for all that most of his life was spent in combat, he died not in battle, but in bed. A rival gunning for chieftain hired a prostitute to poison the barbarian, and Kargrek for all his iron-hard bones and incredible strength could do little to fight the toxin. Especially with his hands tied like that.

    Since death, Kargrek has been living it up (so to speak) in Gorkella, palling around with Krog, eating endless feasts, enjoying endless maidens, and beating the shit out of demons for kicks. When The Redeemer plucked him out of the hallowed Halls of Combat, he had been about to enjoy a rousing post-feast game of orgy with Krog and a handful of equivalents of Valkyries I never made up a name for, and may be consequently a little miffed at the start of things.



    EDIT:


  17. #17
    The Statman Victorious Pinary's Avatar
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    Re: The Fatal Conflict! (GBS2G7) (Accepting participants!)

    "Positions, everyone!"

    "We're live in 4... 3... 2..."

    Name: Scott Williams
    Gender: Male
    Font Colour: #004080
    Race: Human
    Items: With him, he has just his ID card, a pen, and some spare change. He also wears a customized watch with three main functions. Mainly, it tells time, as most watches do, but it also broadcasts that time on a set frequency. If it picks up another signal on that frequency, it will display that time as well, letting him know if there's another version of himself running around and how far ahead of him they are.
    Abilities: Scott randomly jumps through time. The maximum range is about 10 minutes either way, with a 2 in 3 chance he'll end up in his past. The distance is more likely to be in the 2-5 minute range, but as his heart rate increases, so do the likelihood of a jump and the distance of the effect.
    Description: Scott is a bit taller than average, but the appearance is exaggerated by his extreme thinness. Everything about him is lean and stretched, from his thin features to his long, nimble fingers. As a person, he is rather nervous, always overthinking things and getting caught up in the details. He has a particular affinity for numbers and a particular lack of affinity for people.
    Biography: Scott Williams, age 26, was born on October 17th, 2410 aboard Bertrand City, the second-largest city-ship in the Human Federation. At age five, he was diagnosed with a rare neurodegenerative disorder. An experimental treatment left him jumping a few minutes randomly forward and backward in time whenever his heartbeat rose.

    Things I currently dislike: Life. Why's it got to take so much time away from my precious internetting?

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  19. #19
    grievingLionheart TheBoyd's Avatar
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    Re: The Fatal Conflict! (GBS2G7) (Full!)

    At least is isn't "Fatal Konflict"

  20. #20
    MFW Eversist's Avatar
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    Re: The Fatal Conflict! (GBS2G7) (Full!)

    Last edited by Eversist; 07-22-2010 at 04:19 PM.

  21. #21
    Lankie's Avatar
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    Re: The Fatal Conflict! (GBS2G7) (Full!)

    The Redeemer sat patiently at the edge of the crater desecrating the once pristine cathedral. The float of the fishing rod bobbing up and down on nothing. While silence filled the whole building, it was not the same as the rest of void; instead an air of malice filled the room, like a predator stalking its prey. The silence was broken by the small buzz of the fishing line being tugged. The Redeemer snapped his eyes open and grinned.

    “Got’cha!” The Redeemer swung the fishing rod wildly, with a splash of non existent water the lifeless body of Scott Williams swung out. A large hook was unceremoniously locked into his mouth. ”That makes eight!” He launched the corpse across the Cathedral, where it got stuck on some sort of spectral web. The other seven contestants were also trapped in the web, all in awkward positions and perfectly still. Except for the eyes, it would appear that upon contact of the web the contestants were jolted into semi-consciousness, the only things responsive being there eyes and ears.

    ”Once upon a time there was a man named Zaire.” The Redeemer said, as his fishing rod dissolved and the gaping hole filled back up. ”He was the greatest man that ever lived. No other could best him, his swordsmanship was that of legends.” The knight walked down the small steps leading to the throne, each step echoed loudly. “He wanted to rule the world, mould it into something beautiful, a world of chaos. But he could not do it in the state he was in, no, he needed something more.” The Redeemer looked up at the eight contestants as all they could do is stare back, he grinned wildly.

    ”But that’s neither here nor there. Besides, I’ve never been one to brag about my accomplishments.” Zaire lied, as he clicked his fingers, the eight contestants were released from the web, all of them landing in a wooden chair that wasn’t there before. ”Now then! I suppose you are all wondering what you are doing here!” He cracked his fingers and all eight chairs moved into a circle , facing outwards, The Redeemer paced round them all slowly. ”Well, first off, you all have one thing in common. You’re all dead!” He chuckled madly, and paused, expecting a response that he knew would never come. ”Of course some of you are more dead than others, I’ll admit some of you stretched the criteria a little but hey! I don’t choose what the ol’ rod gets!” Another pause, as if to expect a laughter from an unseen audience. ”Right then! I’ll explain the rules to you! Eight ‘players’, seven ‘rounds’. Each round one of you will be whisked away back to your respective afterlife that you no doubt belong in, which is a fancy way of saying, you will die! The winner of this Fatal Conflict will be brought back to the world of the living!” Zaire clicked his fingers once more, a massively long piece of paper unfurled from his hand.

    ”Simply sign this contract and we’ll be on our merry way!” The eight contestant didn’t even get to see the contract before there respective signatures simply appeared on the long parchment. The Redeemer beamed as he withdrew said contract back into his belonging.

    ~ ~ ~

    ”My my! You are all eager! You don’t even what to read the terms and conditions? Oh well! Who am I to judge!?” Zaire cackled as he swerved all of the chairs inwards, ”First some introductions! I am The Redeemer. But I couldn’t care less for that title; it was unceremoniously forced on me you see. So you can call me Zaire!” He gave a small bow, wearing his psychotic smile the whole way. The Redeemer jumped behind one of the chairs, poised to introduce everyone to this sick game.

    ”Unfortunately for you, you can’t speak! Not yet at least, so I’ll do these introductions for you! This rather plain gentleman you see here is Scott Williams! He got a sort of robo brain! But more importantly, he can jump forwards and backwards in time! The poor bugger doesn’t have much control on it though. Let’s hope he gets lucky then!”

    The Redeemer then glided towards a man who wore armor and a huge broadsword. ”Speaking of the time, meet Luron Timerius! He’s your usual fair of knight; decent with a sword, a smattering of magic power, no different to the hundreds of knights I’ve killed. However! Our good friend Luron here can see into the future! Buuuut he doesn’t have much control on that either. Haha! Maybe you and Scotty boy can become friends!”

    Zaire skipped to a ill looking man, with a strange apparatus strapped to his back. ”This monstrosity is called Dr. Kaja Lorrden! He’s an interesting one to say the least; this machine on his back has kept him in an unnatural state of life! Still, the fishing rod thought him dead enough to participate in my little game! He can create concoctions and potions in a matter of seconds thanks to that machine; hopefully his little chemistry set can save him in the upcoming battles!”

    The caped man walked to the sight of a pale woman with huge demonic wings. ”Here we have the lovely Laura Scourge! Another oddity, she’s not technically dead, more so a denizen of the afterlife, still, variety is the spice of life, or death in your case. Laura is a demon literally made to rock! Not only can she kill people with her bare hands, but that guitar of hers can control the elements themselves! Rock on!”

    He moved on to a giant of a man, the chair he sat on was buckling under his weight. Zaire flexed mockingly as he approached. ”Raaargh! This beast of man is Kargrek Strongarm! He’s a barbarian through and through! He’s naturally strong as it is but those bracers he wears gives him even more strength and nigh on indestructible bones! Oh and that axe he’s got? It can set. On. Fire. Wow! I wouldn’t want to cross with this man’s man!”

    Next up was only non-humanoid of the group, a cloud of what seemed like musical notes. ”This bizarre spectre is called Simphonia! It would seem that in her afterlife she did not retain her previous appearance, instead becoming some sort of musical ghost. She does the usual ghostly things: change shape, go through walls etcetera. Her trick up her nonexistent sleeve however is the ability to change people’s emotions, depending on what tune she plays! Don’t worry, she’s normally pretty cheery. Oh wait, it works opposites doesn’t it? Oh well!”

    The Redeemer walked to another chair, one man was sitting in it, another, what looked like his identical twin, lied crumpled on the floor. Zaire propped him up on his doppelgangers chair. ”Ah yes I should probably explain. This is Zachariah Shaw, both of them that is. Y’see, our good friend here made a deal, bisecting his soul. This purple hued one you see here is a ghost not very tangible, but I’m sure you’ll find a weakness for him! This other Zachariah is a zombie. Not the moaning, shambling kind though. He gotten considerably stronger since his days in the living so he should provide some challenge! Should be interesting how this pair play out!

    He walked to the final contestant, a sturdy looking woman adorned in simple clothing. ”Finally, we have Bellona Achillia! She’s a classic gladiator! Or is that gladiatrix? I don’t know, either way she’s built to kill and that’s just what she’ll do! Interestingly, she got a little trinket from some war god or something, how quaint.”

    ~ ~ ~

    The Redeemer walked out of the circle towards his throne, he twisted the chairs so that they may resemble an audience.

    ”Right then! Without further to do! Are you ready to play!?” He knew that there would be no reply, the silence made Zaire smile. ”Excellent.” With a click of the fingers the world began to melt around them. All eight of the contestants begun to fall under a powerful spell, one which willed then into a deep sleep, when the last contestant final succumbed to the enchantment, there was nothing but black, only The Redeemer’s smile remained.

    The eight contenders awoke, lying on a cold tarmac floor. Unlike there previous episode in the cathedral, there paralysis had seemed to faded away. In further inspection there were still restrictions on hold of them, the first being they found it impossible to open there mouths, the second being invisible cages around them, limiting there movement to a square metre.

    They found themselves in what looked like a standard main street, many shops flanking a large road. What once considerably different about this main street was that everyone was dead. Bodies were littered everywhere, as if they had simply dropped dead where they stood. There was no evidence of attack, except for modicum of crashed cars.

    Before the competitors thought themselves free of The Redeemer’s meddling, he rudely teleported in front of then group, leaving a trail of blood red glyphs fading into nonentity. ”Welcome to round 1! Garforth Main Street! I figured it would be a fitting place to start for you, start with something you’re all familiar with!” Zaire gave a nonchalant chuckle, ”Not that theres anything really special about this place, its happened to this whole world. Total wipe out of the entire race!” He turned away from the group, hiding his chaotic grimace. ”Actually I tell a lie, not a complete wipe out, there is a smattering of survivors here and there, probably unlikely you’ll meet one. Oh and there’s an…entity, to say the least. Whether that contacts you or not, is not my choice.”

    The Redeemer twisted round with a sort of enthusiasm unfitting for such a ghastly game. ”Right! I suppose I should explain some rules and guidelines here, I mean they are explained in your contract but you seemed like you were in quite a rush to start! I’ve taken the liberty of erecting a barrier round this quaint little street, keeps you from wandering too far from the fun! Oh and regarding rules for attacking me:” Zaire paused to turn back to the contestants, something about him becoming a lot more slower, his demeanour became a lot more serious than usual, like he just dropped his pantomime act. Well…you’re welcome to try. His now trademark smirk resurfaced as he slipped back into the cruel jester that he was. ”Though I don’t think that’ll do you any good! Now if you want me I’ll be in this delightful coffee shop down the street, can’t miss it, big red and black sign on the front!” He tipped a non-existent hat towards the group. ”Remember: next round doesn’t happen unless one of you dies! Have fun!” Zaire once again disappears in a flash of red, his cackle resonates through the air and disappears a little while latter.

    The contestants were then freed of there temporary prisons and mute inflictions.


  22. #22
    I Don't Deserve This Title MalkyTop's Avatar
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    Re: The Fatal Conflict! (GBS2G7) (Round 1: Everybody's Dead!)

    Simphonia panicked.

    She wasn't used to being restricted and thus, for the few minutes she was, she panicked, her usually tranquil hum crescendoing to an agitated whirl of speeding violins and violas, faster and faster until it seemed that surely the bows would have snapped or caught fire. Her various black components writhed around in confusion and clouds of various color formed and dissipated as she tried to move about. And then, quite suddenly, she could.

    A blur of black slung itself through a nearby window quite by accident. As the glass shattered and embedded itself into her body (in a loose sense of the word), Simphonia attempted to slow down but ended up twisting around wildly and, disoriented, fell to the floor.

    As the ghostly music lay on the floor, the orchestra decrescendoed once more until an apprehensive flutist solo could be heard above all else. Simphonia rose up again and shook the pieces of glass off until she was sure all shards had clinked on the floor.

    It was hard to be sure whether Simphonia fully understood the situation she was in, but it was easy to see that she was frightened. Every part of her being vibrated nervously and she seemed to be trying to make herself hidden. Unfamiliar territory and people and dead people were all very, very disconcerting. But the key strayed away from minor and the spirit drew herself up again, apparently determined to go through un-life as usual. She instead started curiously going about the house, poking at fallen furniture and rotting corpses and the mildew that had started taking over parts of the place. She looked like she was looking for something, but even she did not know what.



  23. #23
    KICKIN' RAD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! piester's Avatar
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    Re: The Fatal Conflict! (GBS2G7) (Round 1: Everybody's Dead!)

    "I haven't seen this much dead people since I decided to go back to hell, my god, It's like they all just said fuck it and had a heart attack, what an unsuitable death for all these annoying little a-holes, a more suiting death would be for them all to have their legs cut off and then slowly and painfully bleed to death" Said Laura with disgust in her voice.

    She looked around and saw nothing of interest, so she walked into a building nearby with a rusted out sign, only one word was visible on it, and even that word was barely visible, that word was simply "Shenanigans" she looked inside to find a bar. "Thank god;" She thought, "Booze, moldy, old and smelly booze, but still, at the very least, booze!" searching through the bar, she found that most of it had fallen to the ground and shattered because the wooden shelves holding them had rotten until the point of the pressure of all the bottles on them had made the shelves collapse, but
    she still managed to find one that was still, barely intact, and had old smelly alcohol on it. she grabbed some, and questioned the safety of drinking some, before she realized that if she could murder people with her bare hands, she could probably stand some old alcohol, so she grabbed a bottle, and chugged, it felt really good after the whole getting kidnapped thing. In about 10 minutes, she had finished two bottles of vodka and was pretty drunk.

    She wandered out of the building with a couple of Vodka bottles, she looked at Luron and threw one of the bottles on the ground.

    "Do you... Do you want to fight, beca... Because I wanna kill you all, and maybe eat your throats, wait, not throats, why would I want to eat your throats? I don't know... I'm just going to kill you all and win this con... this this contest... Is that okay with you, Lurry?" She asked drunkingly, before tumbling towards him.

    "You... You know hell is pretty good this time of the year, I might... Be able to book a trip for you. No catches... Just the whole getting killed by me painfully... pa-part. Nothing un-unusual" She said right before taking out her guitar and making a couple of horrible clangs of noise, making a fireball appear in front of it.

    "You see I made a double entendre their... Oh wait, double entendres are sexual... oh well... You... Your still gonna die even if it wasn't a double entendre... Lu... Lurry." She Stuttered.


    Last edited by piester; 08-09-2010 at 01:59 PM.

  24. #24
    Card Sharp Ixcalibur's Avatar
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    Re: The Fatal Conflict! (GBS2G7) (Round 1: Everybody's Dead!)

    Kaja pushed himself up from the tarmac, feeling around for his contraption. Thankfully it was unharmed by any of the less than delicate measures that Zaire had taken to bring them here. Kaja had quickly got used to the contraption after his accident, he now associated it's odd gurglings and the sick grey liquids that flowed through it with his own life the way that one would normally associate their heartbeat and the blood that ran through their veins. It was almost a part of him, and in a crisis it was always his first thought. Having reassured himself of his continued existence Kaja took a moment to examine the scene around him. It was a scene of devestation, unlike anything Kaja had ever seen. He searched for some reference point, a comparison that he could get his head around, but he found none. The closest he came was imagining a strain of undeath that did not recruit the afflicted into the undead hordes, but left them rotting on the streets instead, and even then it was not perfect. People had time to flee the undeath, or barricade themselves in their basements. None of the dead bodies looked as though they had been fleeing from whatever had done this. It looked as though they had died instantaneously, as though their bodies had just given up on them for some reason. People lay rotting on the pavements, surrounded by bags of shopping they had been carrying home. Motorised vehicles had careened off the roads into the shop frontages. At a shelter further down the street a large vehicle with two floors stood dormant. Kaja guessed that it had stopped to allow people to board when the disaster had claimed so many lives.

    For a moment Kaja entertained the prospect that this was simply a vivid dream. He hoped against fact that a scene of his unbearable destruction simply could not exist, not in his world and not in any other either. But he was fooling nobody, not even his self. As his... competitors, he supposed, started to move he came to his senses. This was a battle to the death, and although unwanted, he had no intention of losing, at least not before he had had words with Zaire and clarified precisely what losing would entail. But first, in his quick scan of the street he had spotted a shop frontage with a sign that intrigued him; Cohens Chemist. If there was one place where he was at home it was at a chemist's. Hell he even smiled slightly, a chemist's in a world as bizarre and advanced at this might have all kinds of interesting herbs, and could lead to a whole new range of potions he could use. Sticking his hands deep into his pockets, he strolled nonchalantly down the street towards the pharmaceutical store, stepping over the decaying remains of the residents of this world as he did so.

  25. #25
    The Statman Victorious Pinary's Avatar
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    Re: The Fatal Conflict! (GBS2G7) (Round 1: Everybody's Dead!)

    Scott stumbled back when the invisible barrier vanished, nearly tripping on the curb. He found himself with his back to another solid surface, but his eyes were still locked on the corpse that had been lying not a meter away. Feeling around with his hands, he discovered the edge of the brick wall just to his left. Slowly, he shuffled sideways towards it, and he was soon backing into an alley. A few steps later, the side of the building obscured the body, but Scott just kept backing away, nearly falling over a cardboard box as he did.

    He'd taken another dozen steps back when a pair of hands grabbed his shoulders and hauled him sideways, pulling him into a doorway. After a moment of disorientation, he found himself staring into his own eyes.

    The other him slapped him, hissing, "Focus, dammit! Yes, there are bodies, but if we don't want to be one, you have to calm down!"

    The original Scott blinked a few times, rubbing his cheek. Something in the depths of his mind said that, yes, that would be a good idea, but the rest of it was still busy screaming at him about the body oh god the body.

    He just stared at himself a bit, eyes not really focused.

    "Dammit... Alright, think. Assuming an even chance of victory for each of the eight contestants, what are our odds of survival?"

    Numbers. He could do numbers. He liked numbers. "One in... One in eight," he eventually said.

    "And what percentage is that?"

    "Zero point one two five." His voice was gaining a bit of confidence. His heart was still racing, but he was at least able to think somewhat clearly.

    "Are those good odds?"

    "No, they're not."

    "Is it going to take everything we've got just to survi-"

    There was a flash of light and an electrical snap as Scott jumped. He was a bit further back in the alley, and, checking his watch, there weren't any others of himself around. His experience said he was probably in the past, soon to encounter his past self and calm him down. Of course, knowing how far back he was would be hard.

    After a moment's contemplation, he decided to check the street and wait for himself to show up.

    As he started down the alley, a thought occurred, and rather than just walk to the end, he tried the door that he had ambushed himself in. It was a bit sticky, but it opened, rusty hinges creaking a bit as it did. High shelves lined the walls of what was apparently a storage room, and by the dim light coming through the door, he could see the silhouettes of assorted bottles and boxes filling them. There was another door leading towards the front of the building, and Scott made his way over to it, stumbling over something on the way.

    The front room of the pharmacy was divided up into rows by several sets of waist-high shelves, each shelf lined with neatly-arranged bottles and boxes. There was a counter along the whole of the back wall, behind which the pharmacist would usually be standing. Now, though, he was nowhere to be found. This was probably for the best- Scott didn't really want to run into more corpses just yet.

    A thought occurred to him, grabbing him in that certain way that mathematical problems always did. There was a key in the till, and a few experimental button-presses later, the tray popped open. There were an assortment of notes and coins there, as well as some rolls of coins and a few keys.

    He picked up a few of the notes. He examined them, but aside from determining that they were issued by the Bank of England, there wasn't much useful information. He put them carefully back in their slots before turning his attention to the coins, which yielded better results. There was a year stamped on the back of each one, and the most recent he could find was from 1994- just before the turn of the millennium.

    He didn't have much longer to consider that, though- his watch beeped at him, indicating that there was now another him present. Looking up, he saw a few of the others stand up in the street outside, waking up from their paralysis. He crouched down behind the counter and returned to the back room, heading out to the alley.

    He nearly tripped over the object again, and he cursed. What sort of pharmacist would leave something like that laying on the floor where someone could easily trip over it?

    Feeling around, he found the light switch and flicked it on.

    Presumably, the grey-haired old man on the floor was the pharmacist. He wore a clean, white apron over a flannel shirt and jeans, and his face was wrinkled with age and good humour.

    Scott had managed to push the corpses out of his mind for a while, but it all came rushing back to him when he saw the old man's body. He squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth. It's just a body, he told himself. It can't hurt you or anything. Just a body. He'd have to face them at one point or another, he knew, and now was as good a time as any. He took a few deep breaths and, slowly, he opened his eyes. The dead man was still there, staring blankly up at the ceiling. Steeling himself, Scott moved over and knelt down beside him. The was no blood on the man's apron, no gaping wounds to indicate how he'd died. He was just... gone.

    Scott reached out, closed the man's eyes, and stood up. This guy was dead, and there was nothing Scott could do about it. He could only focus on not sharing the man's fate himself.

    Something made a noise out in the alley, and Scott realized that the other him must be getting close. He went to the open door just in time, grabbing the other Scott's shoulders and pulling him in. He slapped the other him, distracted him with numbers, and did his best to calm him down before he vanished.

    That done, he sighed and went back into the alley. That loop had closed, and now he had to focus on the matter at hand. There were seven other people around, all of whom probably wanted him dead, and he had no real means of fighting back. He walked slowly to the far end of the alley, looking for anything that could be used as a weapon.

    Things I currently dislike: Life. Why's it got to take so much time away from my precious internetting?

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