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GBCE · 12-30-2009, 12:13 AM

Originally posted on MSPA by Mystify.

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GBCE · 12-30-2009, 02:25 AM

Originally posted on MSPA by MyifanW.

Whit listened. Crashes, followed by muffled words and screams. Possibly the terrible sound of bones breaking too. Then, it was quite again. Whit quickly decided to act. He kicked open the door and kept back, ready for Mike. Instead of him however, a abomination of wood stood before him. A familiar red cloak lay against the other mast in the distance. The monster's head turned, and Whit saw it's face. A shiver went up his spine, and mixed emotions dully coursed through his head. It was scary, but at the same time indulging. Whit knew it. He knew that Grimm could hold some use, that it wasn't a waste to bet his life to help it, and here it was, proof that he was right.
Suddenly, "Grimm" made it's move. It fell low to the ground and clawed forward, crushing the wood it stood on and sendin it propelling towards Whit. Whit should have been shocked by the move, as it was nothing he was ready for. But, he was still in the state of unnatural calm, and simply, with no other thoughts, reacted. He twisted his wrist, hardly moving his arm, and fired the godgun in astrange position. The abomidation took the wave full force, wood flying everywhere- but it's momentum wasn't completely destroied. With all it's remaining force, It thrust it's hand out, crushed through the doorway and harshly pinned Whit to the ground. Pains shpt through him, for the first time in a good amount of time. Whit's calm broke, and his mind flooded again.

He thought first of how afraid he was, how unreasonable the position he was in was. He then thought of his luck, knowing it had at least some influence here, but his fear outweighed the relief knowing his luck brought. He thought of what he had done himself, what he had done before for Grimm. Fear, fate, and his own decisions. Only one thing could come to his mind to say:

"YOU OWE ME! You owe me... Play your part."

What did he mean? He wasn't completely sure. All he knew was that he was the reason, at least partially, that the Mask was there at the current moment. He brought it here- it's fate was overseen by his own... And still was.
The skull changed. Not physically, but it's effect changed. It wasn't calming anymore, it was dominating. The previously placated lives were suddenly feeling Whit's will weighing down on top of their own.

"Grimm" stopped crushing Whit. It stood and stepped away, shaking. It's will was being interfered with by anothers. It was conflicted inwardly, and was similarly conflicted outwardly. It stepped back more, the shaking subsiding. Further it retreated, until it stood unmoving.

Whit sat upright and breathed hard. His lungs burned, and his eyes hurt. Still, he still knew something changed. His calmness was all gone, and he felt as if he was thinking everything twice. He felt the skull weighing down around his neck, and clutched the Godgun. He knew he had to figure out what had happened, so that his life wouldn't fall completely upon fate. But, he was hurt, and most of all, he wanted a break. He wished everything would simply stop for a while.

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GBCE · 12-30-2009, 02:41 AM

Originally posted on MSPA by Mystify.

After a moment, Itzal fought its way back to consciousness. The pain was overwhelming, but it forced itself to concentrate. Bone by bone, it focused its attention its injuries and stitched its body back together. This application of its shape-shifting was much harder than the fluid shifting of forms, and its body was extremely damaged, but it persevered. The more it mended, the less pain there was, and hence the clearer its minds was and the faster it could heal.

GBCE · 12-30-2009, 01:22 PM

Originally posted on MSPA by Lankie.

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With no response from Kobra Zeke figured he simply carry on. He hopped across the small branches of the swamp and went back into the inferno that once was a forest. As he ran he could see the corpses of animals, littered from the ship, most likely died on impact or were consumed by the fire. So much death for some God's entertainment.

Zeke made it to the clearing where the Ark had landed, he breathed a small sigh of relief, the air being slightly less contaminated with gas. Just then Zeke collapsed to his knees, feeling great agony all over. He's held what pain he had back throughout this entire 'round' and now it was too much. The Ninja silently writhed in pain on the ground, maintaining enough willpower not to scream in agony.

Zeke glanced to his left and saw Mike too, in copius amounts of pain, screaming. Zeke clumsily got up and began walkling towards Mike, very audiably cracking his back in the progress.

It was enough for Mike's Vecotrs to hear, they propped Mike's body up, still in obvious pain, he stares Zeke out.

Zeke pants a few times, he violently shuck his head and deployed his blades, entering a more combat ready stance. "You should of stayed dead."

"Me? Dead? Heh. Please, im the local executioner! Why, we'd still be in round 1 of it wasn't for me! Whats the matter? Want to start round 4 a bit early?"

"Heh. Sure. Why the hell not?"
Zeke lunged at Mike, his Vecors blocking the strike, Zeke was slower than usual, he was tired and injured but so was Mike. Zeke and Mike traded and parried blows, albeit in a much slower fashion than usual. Mike's Vectors pushed Zeke away, who collapsed to one knee to catch his breath. Similarly, Mike's Vectors gave way, far too tired to carry on without some rest.

GBCE · 01-02-2010, 12:13 AM

Originally posted on MSPA by Drakenforge.

"Heh, Looks like we're equal, silent-assassin-who-isn't-that-silent-actually-I-haven't-seen-you-sneak-around-at-all-since-I-met-you. What's with that?!"
'Heh. Vectors are out again. I got a feeling cracking my horns would bring them back for a minute or two, but I am NOT suffering that pain again just to fight off Zeke. Besides, I can't even get into the two meter radius with thee injuries, and he doesn't look sturdy enough to want to move much either. Man, i'm unlucky. Time to bring out the big gun'
Mike kicked out with his left leg, propelling him a few feet to the side. As he fell, he twisted his body so that the strap supporting the shotgun fell dwon his arm. He spun around once, allowing him to grab the grip and move his finger into the trigger guard.
"THIS IS MY BOOMSTICK!" He yelled, and he straightened his arm to support the no doubt painful one handed recoil, and fired.

GBCE · 01-02-2010, 01:08 AM

Originally posted on MSPA by Mystify.

Itzal gave a small sigh of relief as his last bone stitched back together. Silently rising into a low crouch, Itzal worked its way behind the odd creature. It had stopped moving, but Itzal didn't think for a moment that it was harmless. Itzal took out its Hoodoo daggers, and leapt out onto the living mound of rubble, plunging it into its shoulder. Grimm gave a lurch as the hoodoo crystal sunk into it, and immediately swatted at Itzal with its arms. Well, one of them, at least. The arm connected to the shoulder Itzal stabbed slowed, and seemed to have trouble maintaining cohesion. Itzal leap back, and out of the way of the arm. "Catch!" Itzal shouted, tossing a bundle to Whit, before drawing another dagger and darting in towards the thing's legs.

Whit grabbed the bundle, which he opened to find shards of Hoodoo crystals. After a second of hesitation he grabbed a shard and jammed it into the godgun. Raising his weapon to the melee in front of him, Whit paused. He could fire on Grimm, which would most likely destroy him, judging from the effect Itzal's attacks were having. Or he could fire at Itzal. They had a truce, but he did not know how trustworthy Itzal was, or even if the truce extended from the last round.

GBCE · 01-02-2010, 04:22 AM

Originally posted on MSPA by MyifanW.

Whit made up his mind quickly. It didn't feel right, to him, to kill Itzal like this, or even let it die. Whit knew that Itzal wasn't meant for this kind of direct confrontation, and that it wanted to cooperate for now. It had even given him a sign of trust, the crystals. Whit could hardly find any sense in leaving this kind of alliance so soon- he wanted it to pan out competely, to find the full extent of it's effects on the game.
Whit, put a crystal in his godgun and yelled.
"hey, get back!"
Itzal stopped it's rush. "Grimm" thrusted it's arm at it.
Whit fired the crystal off- it's force severed the Grimm monster's arm. A gunshot resounded from Whit's side. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mike and... Zeke? In the distance. An idea formed for him.
"Itzal, go back further."
Itzal did without hesitation. It was more comfortable at a range anyway.
Whit stepped closer to the monster, loading his godgun. He had figured out, in part, that the skull manipulated thoughts, and that it was stronger closer to the skull. He wasn't sure exactly what kind of feeling it was manipulating, but he knew it was one that could restrain the thing. The monster definitely had a simple will, it seemed- something that Whit decided to use.
The monster was oppressed by Whit's will, and attempted to move away, maybe towards Itzal- A hoodoo crystal flew through it's side and it stopped. It quickly relocated it's pieces, creating new arms and body parts. Whit was closer now, and "Grimm"'s will was constantly overrided by Whit's demand that it stopped. It attempted to move away again- another shot hit it. It turned to stare at Whit again, who stopped moving, out of range of it's lunge. If it attacked him, it would be shot. If it attacked Itzal, it would be shot. If it tried to run towards the forest, it was shot. It desperately tried another direction. Shot. Another. Shot. One more. It was not shot, and it broke free of Whit's demand that it stopped. It ran... Towards Zeke and Mike.

"ha, it worked."

Whit watched "Grimm" bound off towards the injured combattants. It was less massive now, but it didn't stop it from being hulking. Whit had decided in an earlier instant that it was fine if they died- they were already worn down, being forced against their limits. As far as Whit was concerned, they had played every chip they had already- it was time to collect. It was his gamble, taming the "Grimm" monster, against what little ability Zeke and Mike had left.

he turned his attention back to Itzal.
"here, have these back. I'm borrowing some though."
He underhandedly lobbed the crystals back, and pocketed a few.

Itzal caught it easily, resonding: "not bad... Not bad at all."

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**Schazer** · 01-02-2010, 04:38 AM

Originally posted on MSPA by Schazer.

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GBCE · 01-02-2010, 06:00 AM

Originally posted on MSPA by Mystify.

Itzal cast his view around the wrecked ship. "You planning on destroying all of our arenas?" Itzal asked. As always, its voice gave indication of what it meant by the question.
"It seemed like the thing to do at the time" Whit responded.
Smoke hung heavy in the air. Fire surrounded the ship, a foreboding wall of flame. "I meant for the ship to be a refuge from the flames, but as it is, I don't expect it will be very long until its burning too. We'll need a more lasting shelter." Itzal thought about the view of the forest it had from the sky. "There is a lake in that direction" Itzal said as it pointed off into the woods. "If we can use create a makeshift raft, maybe even something as simple as a peice of wood to cling to, we can rest in the middle of the lake. that is probably the best protection form the flame, assuming we can reach it."
"I don't relish the prospect of hiking through that inferno."
Itzal thought for a moment. "Wait here, I have an idea." Itzal swiftly fled below decks. The scene below was shocking. Splintered boards stuck in all directions, cages lay smashed open, corpses were scattered all around. But some animals did survive the crash. Many had obviously broken limbs, and could barely walk. Itzal ignore all of these. Itzal moved quickly, ignoring smaller animals. Eventually Itzal found a bare of animals, apparently unharmed by the crash. They were sturdy, built like tanks. Hopeful, Itzal withdrew its mesmerizer, and help it up before the beasts. They turned towards it and stared at it, completely entranced. Itzal attached a string to the mesmerizer, and attached the other end to a long splinter of wood. Itzal guided the beasts through the wreckage and you onto the deck.
Whit turned to see Itzal lead two large creatures out of the ship. "What in the world are those?"
"No clue. You know how to ride?" Itzal asked as it mounted one of the beasts, and held the mesmerizer in front of it like a carrot.

GBCE · 01-02-2010, 09:07 PM

Originally posted on MSPA by Kiren17.

Cobra runs the fuck out of ideas and jumps into the fire to burn to death.

**Schazer** · 01-02-2010, 09:46 PM

Originally posted on MSPA by Schazer.

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GBCE · 01-03-2010, 02:10 PM

Originally posted on MSPA by Kiren17.

Fuckin', uh, yeah man, lemme figure some shit out to kill Cobra with.

**Schazer** · 01-03-2010, 09:57 PM

Originally posted on MSPA by Schazer.

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GBCE · 01-04-2010, 12:03 AM

Originally posted on MSPA by Kiren17.

Schazer Wrote:
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Please edit your previous (now non-canon) post to reflect as such.

And if you like, I could write up a suitable death scene instead.

Sure, do that, 'cause I'm kinda busy.

GBCE · 01-05-2010, 12:33 AM

Originally posted on MSPA by MyifanW.

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Whit jumped on, trying to find a handhold on the beast's back.

"I did horse races for a while... But I doubt it applies."

He decided to test the skull's power again, willing the beast to be steady. However, it hadn't had a great effect, or no apparent one, as the pair of animals began bounding forward at humorous speeds.

"do you know where we're going? Well, actually, I do."

Whit vered off to the side, towards the place he had made a hole. It was blocked before, but the godgun would easily move it. He realized that he had broken away from Itzal's hypnotic device... But the beast still obeyed him. It seemed the skull had effect afterall. It was a careless thing to do, to take that kind of chance, but Whit was sure it would have worked out.

<font color="#FF0000">Itzal followed behind. It noticed Whit had moved his beast away from looking at the device, and maintained control, but kept that to itself. There could be reasons it don't fully understand yet. It analyzed the situation quickly. Even if there was nowhere to hide, the walls of the arena were high- it would easily be able to perch up there for the round. It focused on Whit. It knew it would have to kill him, probably... But an alliance would do for now. Whit seemed to trust Itzal anyway- something worth using. It ran through ideas, but decided against serious plotting to leave mental faculties for riding.

</font>

**Schazer** · 01-05-2010, 01:10 AM

Originally posted on MSPA by Schazer.

While Zeke and Mike duked it out, Itzal and Whit attempted to master their new mounts, and Gadget was god-knows-where, Cobra was getting desperate. Resorting first to half-wolf, then full-wolf form to overcome the intense heat of the inferno, the warrior's once sleek fur was now a bedraggled, singed mess. Ears pricking at the telltale groan of a gargantuan tree being eaten out by fire, Cobra leapt with a hair's-breadth to spare as the sentinel came bearing down upon him.

Shit, the Fang Layonin thought to himself, that was too close. Further splintering and popping told him more trees were starting to fall, so he high-tailed it out of there, breath coming in sharp, painful mouthfuls of unbearable heat and choking smoke.

Spotting the edge of the forest, Cobra sprinted for it to be greeted by the imposing bulk of the crater wall, almost glowing with the heat. Cobra winced as his paws were scorched by the baking stone beneath, but he backed into the unyielding stone anyway in a futile attempt to escape the blaze.

The wolf panted tiredly, eyes flickering this way and that to find the non-existent escape route. His ragged breathing, compounded with the roar of the dying forest, was louder than the ominous graunch of stone being wrought apart by intense temperatures.

Cobra heard the warning shots of stone shrapnel, but in his battered state was not fast enough; the sizeable boulder came thundering down, striking the wolf square in the spine, leaving the fallen warrior helpless to escape the all-consuming flames.

As Cobra passed out from the pain, oblivious to the burning branch which had fallen on his remains, the world dissolved around the remaining contestants, reverting to that empty nothingness Whit had found at the end of his tunnel.

The Composer ushered out Cobra's Creator, thanking him for his time and contribution to the project. Another being replaced Kai amongst the six remaining entities. The Gentleman did his best to look at ease amongst the immortals, but he wasn't going to linger. This was strictly business.

"Composer - and Observer," he added, noting the identity of Gadget's creator, "If imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, then I am here to tell you the Director is most abashed by your display. So humbled is he, in fact, that he would like to invite the winner of this battle to another, and repeat the experiment with the best of the best."

The Composer tried to avoid looking too surprised, but then looked amongst the Creators for any immediate opposition. Seeing none, the Composer replied with a smile, "Tell your Director I look forward to bringing the finest fighter this side of creation."

The Gentleman tipped his hat to the entity, and vanished.

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**Schazer** · 01-05-2010, 01:56 AM

Originally posted on MSPA by Schazer.

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Now, where were we...?

The Composer trailed her fingers through the ether irritably, having conjured up and discarded various battlefields to test the contestants' limits. Staring at her hands, those tools which had the power to shape entire worlds, she finally had an idea. Several gestures later, and she wielded an old-fashioned ink pen, with a nib, in one hand, and a bottle of ink in the other. Dipping pen in ink, the Composer smiled to herself as she began to draw.

The contestants, meanwhile, had becoming increasingly aware of their existence within an endless nothingness; some even spotted blurry blobs which may've been their foe. They glanced warily around, trying to ascertain if something had gone wrong, if an opportunity had presented itself to escape the Composer's game.

Their thoughts were interrupted by the sudden existence of a pen, which carved across the nothing to leave a jet-black horizon, dividing sky and land. The five had no time to ponder this development before a pencil and ruler materialised also; beginning to sketch up a castle before the contestants' eyes (who by now had no doubt that this was their newest arena).

Despite their normal proportions, the implements were capable of destroying the laws of perspective - The ruler and pencil surged towards a surprised Whit, drawing a neat horizontal line that read as no more than thirty centimetres, yet left a foundation to the castle a good thirty metres long.

The pencil and ruler created the castle from the inside out, while the pen wasted time adorning the blank sky with a sun and several unmoving clouds. An eraser bounded past Gadget, heading for the castle and beginning to erase the pencilled interior walls which logic dictated could no longer be visible as the exterior walls were added.

The pen also joined in the castle-making festivities, reinforcing some more load-bearing lines with its stronger black ink. When it was complete, the ruler and eraser were somewhere in the castle, and the pencil finished by drawing a flag upon a corner battlement and clattering to a halt. The plink as it hit the fresh stone was made all the more audible by the complete lack of noise in this near-lifeless world.

The pen, meanwhile, had soared up into the sky where it began a letter to the contestants in a cursive hand. Towards the end, it ran out of ink and cut the message short in a scratchy, blotted mess as the pen plummetted into the golden wheat fields it had drawn in front of the castle only moments before.

The message read: Welcome to your new battlefield. Exercise caution with these, the tools of go~

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GBCE · 01-05-2010, 04:26 AM

Originally posted on MSPA by Mystify.

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Itzal looked at hte world around him. Every sense it had screamed that such a world could not exist, that it violated fundamental properties of nature, yet here it was. A world of penstrokes. Yet this did not bother Itzal in the slightest. For one who makes a living out of optical illusions, operating in one is nearly second nature.

Itzal noted that the beast it was riding had disappeared. It was slightly annoyed by this development, but it was not great setback. Obviously these "tools of gods" are important here. Itzal pondered the situation for a moment. The pen seemed to be running out of ink, while the pencil was quite clearly on top of he castle. Itzal shifted into a bird and took to the air, heading for the castle.

GBCE · 01-05-2010, 12:28 PM

Originally posted on MSPA by Korbz.

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GBCE · 01-05-2010, 03:58 PM

Originally posted on MSPA by Lankie.

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Zeke brought his hands up in a vain attempt to defend himself from Mikes shotgun blast, the expected didn't come. Instead Zeke felt as if the the fabric of his being was altered, was this death, in a never ending expanse?
No. He had felt this before, the transitions between worlds felt the same, just on a much lesser extent. Zeke already knew this was a game for the gods, but he was becoming more aware of his 'prison'.

It felt like an eternity and an instant at the same time. However Zeke found himself standing in an infinite white expance. Breathing fresh air was a luxury, Zeke felt so much better, his previous wounds and tiredness appeared to have gone. He figured the transition had a refresh effect on all contestants alive.

Zeke watched with intreage the pen and pencil draw the very landscape around him.It was bizzare to say the least, but he was at this point desensitised to it. He watched the pen fall down into a field of grain, or what he assumed was grain. He knew it could be of use.

He began running through the nigh on blank landscape towards the field of grain, he saw a bird take off in the distance. "Some things never change."

GBCE · 01-05-2010, 04:57 PM

Originally posted on MSPA by Drakenforge.

Mike stood, brushed himself off, and cracked most of the crackable bones he had, starting with his knuckles, leading to his neck and back, and ending with a crouch that cracked his knees. He sat like this and stared into the black outlined sun.
"Kekeke. 'Contrast of white on white' is it? Wait. That didn't make sense. Shit. Uhhh hold on something smart to say.... Oh. How about, When I'm threw with this place they'll need more that erasers to wipe the blood stain's away?"

Mike noticed he was talking to himself, and corrected his fault by re-creating his wild grin. His body was working, and his vectors weren't going to fail him anymore.
A plan formed in his head. Pencils, pens, rulers etc. Thing's everyone knows about.
Mike knew he came from a modern earth. A modern world instrument must be around, if the normal one's are.
Or at least a paintbrush. Yes, that would lap up 'ink' quite well.
Mike started for the castle. What his perception would tell him must be at least a mile away, seemed to grow and grow with each passing step, until he stood at the front gate itself within four minutes. The castle was indeed large, but Mike was troubled.
'I got here way too fast. Was it my urge to get here that caused this?
Wait, what was that annoying trick of the eye, the one with the elephants and their legs...
I see, and like the vase/two faces. .Perception, it seems, is a powerful thing in this world'
Mike stared the large gate up and down. Wood, reinforced with rivets here and there. Most likely one of those barred gates behind it.
Mike started hacking away with his vectors, before a nice pile of splinters began to surround him.

GBCE · 01-06-2010, 12:25 AM

Originally posted on MSPA by MyifanW.

Whit sighed as the scene changed. Another died? Well, if someone died so easily, they wouldn't have been worth anything anyway. A sharp stroke flew past him- a pen, which somehow twisted his vision. The castle he had seen suddenly burst into three dimensions... He kept watching the pen, facinated. Words were being scribbled into the air. Tool of the... Gods? Whit was a little suspicious on that trailed off ending. Nothing happened for no reason- either the god was hiding something, or... Chance was hiding it. The fact it just might have happened for no reason never crossed his mind. What could come after "go"? He pondered this as he moved into the castle, which had gained dimension so close to him. This seemed to be the focal point of the area... He might find something there.

GBCE · 01-06-2010, 01:19 AM

Originally posted on MSPA by Mystify.

Itzal soon made it to the castle without incident. Landing and shifting back to its default form, it began looking around for the pencil. It was not hard to find, simply laying on the roof. Itzal picked it up and examined it. It seemed to be an artists pencil, without an eraser attached.

Itzal pondered the proper usage of such a device. It decided to start with some experimentation. Itzal drew a brick in front of it. As it finished the last lines the brick became solid, though it remained colorless. "Most interesting" Itzal muttered to itself. The edges were rough, and the shape was a bit lopsided. Itzal picked it up and hefted it. It weighed about as much as a brick. Itzal looked over the side of the castle, and saw Mike hacking away at the door below. Itzal tossed the brick down at Mike, then darted back from the edge so it would not be seen

Mikes vectors suddenly darted up and struck a small object out of the air. Mike turned to look just in time to see the object disintegrate into dust. "What the... what was that?" Mike looked around for the source of the attack, but could see none

Itzal stared at its pencil. It had drawn this castle... could it duplicate this feet. Itzal walked to the opposite edge of the building and drew a box on the yard below. Even though its hands only moved inches, a large box materialized on the ground below. Perception is king. Itzal started laughing.

**Schazer** · 01-06-2010, 02:30 AM

Originally posted on MSPA by Schazer.

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GBCE · 01-06-2010, 03:08 AM

Originally posted on MSPA by Drakenforge.

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A small section of the gate smashed open, leaving a tall gap large enough for Mike's torso to fit through. He looked upwards, from where the thing fell on him. Pretty high up. Mike quickly put two an dtwo together. Nobody could fly, except Itzal. But then Mike became worried. He feared Itzal was already practicing with an artist's tool of somekind.
He passed through the gap, and sure enough there was a portcullis. The overlapping lines of iron reminded Mike of pastry he'd never gotten the chance to taste, due to his lack of a family.
He only had himself to blame though. Afterall, he killed them in the first place.
Shrugging off his fun memories, Mike turned back to the task at hand.
"Right. Heavy lifting. Fun"
He grasped the bottom bars with both his hands and vectors, and hoisted the portcullis upwards. Getting it more than a few feet strained Mike physically and mentally. Just before he lost grip, he threw himself sideways through the gap. The sharp edges slammed down into the ground only inches from his body.
He allowed himself a breather as he looked around. He found himself to be in a small courtyard, with patches of grass, pathways, and a well. Further on was the doorway to what seemed to be some sort of hall, or chapel, or some other form of large indoor area. Mike picked himself off the floor and strolled down the pathway, stopping to peer into the well. He quickly recognised that he couldn't see the bottom, so he pulled on the bucket rope to bring it up to see if the pencil had managed to draw liquid itself, a task he thought would be doubtful.
As it neared the opening, he noticed a small wooden handle looming out of a black liquid.
Mike placed the bucket onto the edge of the well and picked up the object. It turned out to be a fountain pen, it's stub drenched in ink. Mike stared at it, turning it over in his hands. He wondered if he really should bend this reality. He wanted to win with his own power, not some random gifts he found lying in a well. He shrugged. If the others had an advantage over him due to these, then he'd seriously kick himself in the longrun.
He wondered what to draw, before a startling revalation occured to him, and he began doodling on the floor.