Who has posted? | | View a Printable Version

Dragon Fogel · 01-06-2010, 03:21 AM

Originally posted on MSPA by Dragon Fogel.

Show Content

GBCE · 01-06-2010, 07:16 PM

Originally posted on MSPA by MyifanW.

Show Content

Robust Laser · 01-06-2010, 07:30 PM

Originally posted on MSPA by cyber95.

Show Content

GBCE · 01-07-2010, 03:03 AM

Originally posted on MSPA by Mystify.

Itzal decided to continue experimenting, but in a manner that will actually produce progress. Itzal draw a trap door on the roof beneath it, and sure enough, a trapdoor appeared. However, when Itzal opened it, the roof was still present beneath it. Itzal realized it would need more tools to be able to add doors to existing surfaces. With this is mind, Itzal drew a rope, tied it to a flagpole, and rappelled down the side of the caste and entered a window on the top floor.

GBCE · 01-08-2010, 05:43 AM

Originally posted on MSPA by Mystify.

Show Content

GBCE · 01-08-2010, 03:39 PM

Originally posted on MSPA by MyifanW.

Show Content

GBCE · 01-08-2010, 04:06 PM

Originally posted on MSPA by Lankie.

Zeke eventually got the field, it seemed that the edges of the field were the only things that were in detail, the middle part seemed much more barren than the rest. Zeke searched a while and eventually found the pen laying on the ground. He tried to draw with it but to no avail, it was completely out of ink. he unscrewed the pen to find a slender grey crystal instead of an ink cartridge. Zeke pondered why a crysatl than a standard ink cartridge but wasn't going to question it. The Gods surely wouldn't of placed a tool for no reason.

Wanting some answers, Zeke began running towards the castle

GBCE · 01-08-2010, 09:46 PM

Originally posted on MSPA by Drakenforge.

Mike quickly realised that he didn't know how to draw that well.
'Shit' he cursed to himself, 'I guess this is a bad time to be an uneducated monster. Well, i'll hunt down a ruler or something later'
He gazed down at the motly collection of doodles. He had indeed discovered a few things.
One was that he could not just draw the shape of an item and it would be complete. He had drawn a gun, came out as a crappy drawing of a gun.
He had to draw them in 3d, and not only that, but draw every component if he wanted it to work. Naturally this task was impossible for Mike to acomplish. Next, he discovered that he had difficulty creating different materials. He drew a knife on a brick, and got a brick knife. So he started drawing in the air itself, even though he found it incredibly weird to do so.
After more and more failures, and many dippings into the bucket of ink, Mike ended up no better off than when he started.
He turned his gaze skyward, into the outlined sun.
He knew it cast no light, and wasn't some big burning ball of hydrogen in the sky. It was a shape, just there for the hell of it.
The world had been the same light even before it was drawn, so it was easy for him to come up with that conclusion.
Mike turned his attention to another task he needed to figure out: how to carry the ink, without holding the whole bucket.

GBCE · 01-08-2010, 10:28 PM

Originally posted on MSPA by Mystify.

Itzal roamed the halls of the castle, looking for the same thing he always did; a large, but enclosed area. It supposed it could draw one outside, but considering it only had a pencil to work with it decided that something preexisting would be better. Itzal figured that a castle would have large rooms, and sure enough, it found a banquet hall. perfect, Itzal thought, and started tearing the tapestries off the wall and showing tables around to create a blank canvas to work from.

Itzal had to stop for a moment and admire the tapestries before removing them. Like everything else, they were drawn, but while the castle was mostly drafting work, the tapestry itself was pure art. Despite being drawn in pen and pencil, the figures on the tapestry seemed almost alive, the patterns leading the eye along the scenes, and an epic story was told within. This was clearly the handiwork of a god.

GBCE · 01-09-2010, 12:21 AM

Originally posted on MSPA by MyifanW.

In the lower levels of the castle, Whit found the eraser. It was incredibly easily found- sitting against the wall in a dining room, as if it had been simply forgotten as the artistic process stopped needing it. The eraser was a big piece of artistic rubber eraser, easily molded. Whit fiddled with it a little, interested. It was an object that he felt vaguely suit him. In his life... His past life, it seemed... He had wiped out everything that had been put on the table against him... Erased it, it could be said. Slight difference though- things he won did not simply dissapear- he claimed them as trophies, as proof of his superior fate. He shaped it into a thick rodlike shape and gave it a lackadasical swing at the dining table. There was no resistence- the segment erased simply vanished. Whit smiled.
"Yes... This is good."

It was something he could shape, and always erased... But didn't erase him, or apparently, his clothes. Whit figured that the tools didn't affect foriegn objects.
Suddenly, an idea struck Hit It was obvious that the others would use these tools to make weapons... But he knew what to do about that. He analyzed his surroundings. It was a large room with one door- he'd know if anyone was close. He left his godgun out just in case. He took off his jacket, and pressed the eraser, shaping it into a cube, and took out his... Well, itzal's knife. He began making thin slices of the eraser,and then lined it on the inside of his jacket. The slightly sticky nature of the eraser made the pieces stay in place easily. After he finished, he still had plenty of eraser left. He took half of it with his hands this time, and rolled it up so that it was a long, rounded segment. Then, He took it and split it in half, wrapping both segments around his forearms. Putting on the coat, he felt successful. He was now practically drawing- proof, and even if the eraser parts were seen they were unlikely to be identified as such. Picking up the last piece, Whit rolled it up into a rod, about the length of his forearm, and tucked it in the backhook of his jacket.

Show Content

GBCE · 01-09-2010, 12:40 AM

Originally posted on MSPA by Mystify.

Show Content

GBCE · 01-09-2010, 01:05 AM

Originally posted on MSPA by Drakenforge.

Mike stretched the muscles in his neck as he examined his work. He had drawn himself a new outfit, something he though was pretty clever considering. His old clothes were mangled, even before he had started fighting, and were stained crimson from the last round. His new clothes were a large white thin trenchcoat, seeing as he couldn't draw colour. He changed his trousers too, also white. Shoes were harder, as the shape was hard to get, but mike just coloured over his own one's to make them black. He didn't make a shirt, and remained barechested with the coat open. He had drawn bandages and wrapped them around his abdomen, and hidden a square plate of concrete under it, seemingly unnoticible.
Mike thought he looked pretty badass. He started laughing to himself as he wondered what the others would think.
He had decided to just keep the bucket with him when he couldn't think of any ideas. He didn't think the pen would do much in a fight, but maybe he'd keep it handy in any case. He hefted the bucket in his right hand, and stored the pen behind his ear.
He started walking towards a door in the side of one of the walls, and opened it, passing into a series of corridors with no roof. He followed them in a random order, sometimes opening dorrs and looking around. On the fourth door he opened he found a kitchen. Instantly, as if by instinct alone, his stomach grumbled.
"Hmm. Drawn food. Gah, I havn't eaten in forever. Even if it tastes of ink i'm going to eat something" He mumbled to himself as he walked inside.
Amazingly, there was a fire burning inside the room. Mike marveled such a feat, actually finding gods to be kinda cool, even though he loathed them as much as he loathed the other fighters. He opened a cupboard to fid some loathes of bread, as white as everything else. After some rumaging, he found a knife and some cheese, and helped himself to some lunch.
The bread was not like the bread he was used to. It was, in all ways, what bread was like back in the past, without added chemical crap. The cheese was the same, however the taste was pretty good, and helped settle his belly.

Show Content

GBCE · 01-10-2010, 12:21 AM

Originally posted on MSPA by Mystify.

Itzal finished shoving the last table out of the room and turned around. Itzal slowly raised its pencil, and stared to draw.

It did not draw simple traps.

It did not draw a complex maze.

It did not draw an arsenal of weapons and armour.

It did not draw anything that a sane person would ever consider drawing.

No.

It drew an intricate optical illusion, folding in on itself, positive and negative space at the same time, its very existence in question. Stairs led into themselves, points were above themselves, parallel lines crossed, and insides were outsides. Even M.C, Esther would have gone made in the landscape of nonsense Itzal wove, but illusions and bending reality were its stock and trade, and, oddly enough, Itzal was even more at home in this twisted parody of reality than it was in what most would consider sane space. Itzal started laughing, and the sound echoed down the corridors of then castle, taunting all that could hear it.

Dragon Fogel · 01-10-2010, 12:30 AM

Originally posted on MSPA by Dragon Fogel.

Show Content

**Schazer** · 01-10-2010, 12:42 AM

Originally posted on MSPA by Schazer.

Show Content

GBCE · 01-10-2010, 12:51 AM

Originally posted on MSPA by Mystify.

Show Content

GBCE · 01-10-2010, 01:23 AM

Originally posted on MSPA by MyifanW.

Show Content

Whit heard Itzal's laughing. It was something he had come to expect from Itzal- it always had a gleeful glint in it's eye as it prepared to act. Right now, it had probably created something big. Whit wanted no part of it. He didn't think he needed to go meet up with his "ally" again, especially not if Itzal had something prepared. Whit was a gambler by trade, not a fool. He didn't walk into traps unless he knew how to turn it on it's head.

Instead, he left the castle through the front door. It wasn't safe, standing out in the open, but his fate would accomidate this much, Whit figured. He looked up again. What came after "GO"? Whit didn't want to believe it spelled "gods". That was too simple, too pointless for chance to manipulate. Still, he drew a blank. He fiddled with Noah's skull.
" I don't suppose you'd know?", he asked.
" maybe it happened so that the pen would be empty, so than it wouldn't be too incredible of a weapon so soon," the skull answered.

Whit blinked. The skull... It talked? If it had, who had responded? Noah? A dead man, or one never alive? Maybe... Whit's logic had grown loose over the battle royale. Perhaps it was himself, speaking words in the back of his mind. He pondered the occurance, but finally decided to stop thinking about it. It made no difference where the words came from, only that they were told to him. It was fate at work... But more directly than before.

"So, it was just so that the pen would run out of ink?", he asked nobody this time. "I suppose that's a worthy cause... But I still hoped it would be something grander."

He looked around, remembering where he was. The was a field in the distance... And... It was Zeke again. Whit was so familiar with seeing him in the distance he could recognize the silloete. He wasn't sure, but he figured Zeke saw him too. Whit fired his Godgun as their customary greeting and began moving backwards, to the castle.

GBCE · 01-10-2010, 07:04 AM

Originally posted on MSPA by Drakenforge.

Show Content

GBCE · 01-11-2010, 06:30 PM

Originally posted on MSPA by Lankie.

Zeke walked to the castle at his own leisure. He saw a silhouette of a person at the entrance. Straight away Zeke determined it as Whit, who else could it of been? Itzal wears a cloak, Gadget is much smaller, and Mike's stance is a fair bit more animalistic than most. Instinctively Zeke darted to the side. He was right to do so, as the floor ruptured as the God guns invisible force tore past. Zeke darted towards the side of the castle.

Whit followed Zekes path with the Godgun, ready to fire. However it decided not to, it was clear that Zeke wasn't going for him, not to mention he didn't want to end this round too early. Without noticing Whit backed into the entrance of the castle, almost falling through the hole Mike made.

Zeke made it to the wall, judging from the lack stream like craters around him he assumed Whit let him go. Zeke knew that it would be foolish to take on Whit on completely open ground. Zeke felt round the wall, searching for any indentations for climbing. He soon found a spot and climbed the wall with relative ease, much easier that the Hoodoo. Eventually Zeke was on the walls of the castle.

GBCE · 01-11-2010, 07:22 PM

Originally posted on MSPA by Mystify.

Itzal continued laughing, the laugh taking on a kind of twisted tinge, more of a mwa-ha-ha than a ha-ha-ha. This is completely uncharacteristic since before every sentence spoken betrayed nothing of the emotion behind it, and even the previous laugh had been measured. This new laugh send shudders down the spine.

GBCE · 01-12-2010, 12:33 AM

Originally posted on MSPA by MyifanW.

Again with the laughing. It was stranger now, though... Whit re entered the castle. It seemed that all of the others, or at least Zeke and Itzal, were above him. It seemed that for now, all the fun was upstairs... Whit decided that he'd go downstairs. It was plausible that in a huge place like the dungeon, another artistic tool would reside. Why was he so eager to find things? Well, once again, he had been removed from his comfort zone... Certainly, his luck would sustain him, but...
"but you need to grab every advantage you can. This stage is not quite a raw battle, but a contest of imagination."

Yes, that reason. Once again, he wasn't quite sure where the words came from, but it didn't matter. He was going to seek out another tool, because, well, he could. As fate dictated, he was probably alone on the bottom of the castle- and there was obviously a purpose behind that fate. Clearly, he was being led to find something he needed to find.
Descending into the dungeon, he found... Suprisingly few cells. It was certainly large enough, though. He quickly glanced through all of them and found nothing of interest. But really, that couldn't be! Why would fate lead him to nothing? Maybe there was some other purpose for being here- maybe to simply know this place, for future reference, because it would be needed...
"no, it makes sense for at least something to be down here. It would be a waste of space otherwise, and the god wouldn't have taken the time to draw it."
Again, it was that indeterminable voice. The skull, Noah's voice.
Whit grabbed the skull and faced it towards him.
"Tell me then... Tell me what kind of fate exists down here."

Whit recieved no answer... Then, a glint caught his eye. It was in the far corner of the dungeon, a lightless corner... He inspected it and drew forth a strange vial. The top detached, revealing a brush dipped in white ink...
"White out."
Whit had To laugh a little. Another erasing tool... Well, it suited him. He was a man who would make anything bet disappear... And, well, in this game, they had all bet their lives. Whit didn't expect to really kill them with Whiteout, but certainly, it would... Help. How exactly, he wasn't entirely sure. He would leave that up to luck.

"So, Whiteout. You could probably use this to destroy perspective. Remember how the god drew the castle, and gave it dimension in one stroke? Well, Whiteout would be able to eraser the stroke completely..."

Whit frowned at the skull that may or may not have been talking and thought. It did make sense... Yes... It was something he didn't need to allow fate to manipulate... But still.

GBCE · 01-12-2010, 05:02 PM

Originally posted on MSPA by Drakenforge.

Mike heard the laughter as he finished his small meal. As he brushed the crumbs from his mouth with the back of his arm, he knew he had to accept Itzal's challenge.
He strolled back through the corridors, still carrying the bucket of ink, even though he found it an annoying chore, in search of Itzal's chamber. As he chose corridors seemingly at random, he soon arrive back at the courtyard he had started. The main gate was as broken as ever, and the large building before him still loomed as high as he remembered.
He decided it would be a fairly large room inside. Large enough for say, a small fight and a lot of illusionistic material. It was the first thing that came close to fitting the bill, so Mike decided to check it out first.
Instead of just pushing the doors open or even checking to see if they were locked, Mike broke them down. Instantly, his mind was berrated with images of designs that should not be able to exist. He looked away, cursing whoever had made such a room. He half closed his eyes and scanned the room, a task that was easier said then done. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted tapestries and furniture piled together. Mike had hit the jackpot, he decided.
He slided into the room, unsure where he was, and unsure where he could go. He only knew that he was attempting to keep his back facing a wall. And that helped him. A little.

GBCE · 01-12-2010, 06:04 PM

Originally posted on MSPA by Mystify.

Itzal smiled to itself, watching Mike fumble into the room. despite trying to stay near the walls, he soon found himself sideways, twisted by the landscape. Itzal lurked in what Mike thought was the solid ground beneath his feet. But solid or not are matters of perspective, and Itzal's mind was free of preconceptions of how solidity should work. Itzal silently threw a pair of daggers, on left, one right. Mike's vectors darted to knock one out of the air as it curved to him from above, but the other came in from the side and slashed open his ankle.
"Agh!" Mike screamed, clutching his hand to his ankle. "Where are you?"

"What, is this too much for your small brain to comprehend? Should I make this easier for you? Tsk, tsk, I'm not even using mirrors. What you see is what there is."
"Just show yourself!" Mike screamed, the rage building. His vectors whispered to him, telling him how they would eviscerate Itzal, feeding his rage. Mike took a step to the left and found himself staring at his feet. "This makes no sense!"
"Ah, but it makes altogether too much sense. You want me to show myself, fine. Here I am." Itzal suddenly loomed from behind what Mike thought was a open corridor, but now appeared to be a column. Itzal itself seemed misshapen, as if viewed through a fun-house mirror. Its body was scrunched up small, while its limbs stretched out grotesquely long. As it moved towards Mike, its proportions shifted, its body undulating sickeningly, limbs reaching out to become impossibly long before suddenly shrinking back to be
improbably short.
Mike screamed and rushed towards Itzal, vectors poised to kill, but Itzal simply sidestepped him, ending up above him. Mike was completely disoriented by this maneuver, but his vectors were not as slow on the uptake. They darted upwards, and grabbed Itzal by the neck, and started squeezing. "Ha, finally," Mike said. "You are going to pay for making this room."
Itzal started flailing around, and its foot kicked the bucket of ink out of Mikes grasp. The ink splashed out across the the ground, and started flowing downhill. The ink left solid blackness in its wake, solidifying the fragile pencil work into a indestructible wall, it spread out, tracing insane patterns across the bizzare landscape, flowing around into itself, around corners, even back to its starting point as the full bizarreness of the space was revealed. Mike took no notice of this, fully engrossed with Itzal. Itzal continuously flowed out of his grasp, forcing Mike to grab it over and over.
"Just stay still!" Mike screamed, reaching for his gun and firing it into the writhing mass of Itzal. The bullets tore through its flesh, and slammed into the wall behind it, tearing through it like tissue paper. Blood dripped down from Itzal, but it did not stop fighting to escape.
Itzal took advantage of the bullet holes to thrust a pseudopod into it, and started forcing its way through the small opening. It soon made it through, out of Mike's grasp.
Mike screamed in frustration, and started beating his vectors against the wall. To his surprise, the wall started to give way easily. He gave a small cry of victory and tore through the wall after Itzal. There was no sign of Itzal beyond a trail of blood going of further into the maze. Mike rushed along the trail, following its twisting path through the insanity. He paid no attention to bizarre landscape around him, focusing on the blood trail. It was something concrete enough for him to latch onto and navigate.
Itzal fled through its structure, trying to regain its advantage, but the trail of blood was making it impossible to hide. So Itzal decided not to. It darted down a side passage and ended up behind Mike. Mike was too engrossed in the blood trail to notice Itzal behind him, and Itzal threw a swarm of daggers at Mike.
The first dagger hit Mike in the shoulder before the Vectors could react, an lodged itself beneath the shoulder blade. He fell to the ground as the Vectors knocked away the rest of the daggers. Before Itzal could respond with a new volley of knifes, The vectors lifted Mike off the ground and darted away from Itzal.
Itzal leaned against the wall, thankful for a break. He concentrated for a moment, and patched up the bullet wounds so they stopped bleeding. Itzal straightened, and made his way out of the room. "Good luck finding your way out of there. I doubt your mind could even comprehend the entirety of the maze. " Itzal called out, as it walked out the door, twirling Mike's pen between its fingers. Ink was covering too much of the area to for mike to smash his way out. To be sure, Itzal penned a wall in front of the doorway with the last of the ink in the pen. Its ink ran out just as he finished, and Itzal stashed it in its robe as it walked away.

GBCE · 01-14-2010, 01:00 AM

Originally posted on MSPA by MyifanW.

Show Content

Whit wandered aimlessly. He heardmuffled voices, maybe a gunshot, but really, he couldn't bring himself to care. In fact, he felt like he didn't care about anything, really. He was moving with fate guiding him. Anything was fine-

"Stop being a fool, are you kidding me? Remember that you've bet your life in this. You want to win. It's not fate. Fate isn't holding your hand, it rides on your back. You need to act before anything else follows." Again, the Skull talked. Whit was no longer bothering to doubt who talked to him- it was just the skull.

Indeed, the skull was probably right to some degree, Whit realized. He wasn't some kind of leaf in the wind- he was driven to know others and destroy them, completely and utterly. Still, It was worth thinking about now- What was the point of that drive? He had always avoided the thought, but now that he and the skull had adressed it so directly... The concept wouldn't leave his mind. He pondered, as he climbed stairs. A clear reason would not form. Yet, the desire to drive men to their limits and crush them was incredible, so strong that he could never even think of going against it! Perhaps it was simply because he hated others? No, he thought. He had always found it difficult to relate to people- because they did not hold his interest... Until he compete against them. It was easier to relate then-Whit knew his enemies better than anyone else he had met. Of course, he knew, that was because enemies hid nothing! Honestly, what was there to hide? To win was to destroy the opponent- every single action is a move towards that goal. Yes, enemies have an entirely honest relationship. Of course, it wasn't always quite so pure. In fact, Whit realized now, none of his relationships with enemies were quite pure. All of his enemies were held back by the world. Casino gamblers were restrained by the fact that all they lost was the chips on the table. They still had lives beyond the game, that the intended to go back to. The money on the table rarely tied them completely down to the game. Whit thought back to the event he had dreamed of- the man who tried to shoot him. Indeed, that poor man was probably the greatest enemy Whit had ever had- one who would stop at nothing to destroy him in that instant. Yes, that was the first time Whit had truly known someone completely- that man had nothing holding him back; he had nothing but his bare existence. For the first time, Whit could see the full nature of a man- and at the same time, discovered that man's limit. The poor man tried to kill Whit with all his ability- but failed. With all his ability, the poor man could not do any better- his limit was right there. Whit learned one other thing from that encounter, too; that his own limit was... Immeasurably Distant.

Whit stopped ascending. Itzal had just walked out of a door in front of him.
The skull began babbling.
"shoot him now- no, don't. The alliance might hold, and you still don't know how to kill that guy."

"I know... This will work out, one way or another. let's see what fate decides on. Anyway- I have things to say." Whit Resonded.

The skull was silent, although somehow condescending.

Itzal turned. Whit was saying something... Talking to himself, it seemed. Itzal frowned. Whit seemed different every time it saw him. It really wondered about Whit's mind... Still, it greeted him.

"Hello. Good to see you well. Have you found any tool of the gods?"

Whit smiled, for the first time in a while.
"Ahh, I have indeed! Of course, I'm holding off on using them. They are a bit too much power to use so easily, aren't they?"
Itzal may or may not have made a face, and began to talk, but Whit continued.

"Ive thought about it... The game you wanted to play? Why bother coming up with our own rules? We are playing for eachother's lives. If you want a game of life and death- well, we're playing that game right now!"
Whit was feeling good now, meeting his ally... His enemy. For Whit, right now, the nonlinear, convoluted nature of their enemy-ship was very interesting, and Itzal's limit still couldn't be found.

contrasting his mood, The skull yelled at him.
"What, what, what are you saying! There was no point to that, and you might have just screwed up our only alliance! It was a damned game! Play along! Sure, Find it's limits or whatever, but first find it's weaknesses! Use what little help you'll-"

Whit put his hand on the skull, pressing down on it, muting it's voice.

"shhh... I said it would be fine either way."

Itzal heard nothing but Whit's words.

GBCE · 01-14-2010, 01:41 AM

Originally posted on MSPA by Mystify.

"I could stab you right now, but I was hoping for something a little more..interesting. " Itzal replied, once more completely composed and betraying no hint of emotion. "If I wanted a mere battle I can turn to any one of our other opponents. You seemed to be a man of more class than that, and I am still confident in that aspect of my initial assessment of you. However, I see no need to pursue such an engagement at this time. I have Mike pinned down, he won't be interfering. I think now is a ideal time to try to set up an ambush for Zeke. I have a pen and pencil, if we can find more ink. Combine that with whatever you found, plus our other equipment, and we should be able to come up with something particularly effective. What do you think?"