|
Post by Tout-Perd on Jan 3, 2007 0:17:28 GMT -5
The Lord of the Lamp stomped his foot impatiently. “I demand entertainment! Give me something that amuses me! I NEED entertainment. What is there left in life for me? I wished for immortality, so I have all the time in this universe. Every last millisecond. What good is it if I’m not enjoying every moment of it?”
“I have no idea, master.”
“I suppose that it’s time we go and throw some of the people around here at each other. In fact, why not. I’ve got an idea this time. Those with immense powers have started to bore me. They constantly are fighting on such a large scale, and so insistently that I get little novelty from them any more. I want to see a battle that is more limited in scope. A really good battle between two human beings is something else entirely. You get to see blood flow. You get to hear their hearts beat. The limited scope of their struggle expands one’s fascination with such an occurrence. I now know EXACTLY what I wish to have. Grant it to me.”
“What may that be, master?”
“Well, first of all, I’d rather have you call me something new. What’s it been, twenty years since you started calling me master, no?”
“Yes, master.”
“I wish to be amused. Call me the name of a randomly selected band instead.”
“If you say so, master.”
“Wrong! Call me the right name!”
“Indeed, Chumba-Wumba.”
“Better.”
“So, what is your wish, The Supremes?”
“Hold on one second, servant. Let me write something down.”
“Indeed, Yes.”
“Redundancy much?”
“No, the band, Nirvana.”
“Well, be silent, and let me finish writing this letter.” He put his pen to the paper, and smiled devilishly.
“{Genie inserts name here}, I am holding a tournament. It will be something of a tremendous scale, thousands of people all fighting. I have the means to ensure that this will happen. And there will be a tremendous prize, far greater than anything ever received before by a mortal being. If you are in need of money, or pleasure, or medicine, or virtually anything, it will be the prize. There is only one thing that may deter you from entering. If you don’t make it through the elimination process, I will not be held responsible for your injuries, or even death. The rules for this tournament are very simple. No magic, no superhuman powers, simple melee weapons only. Anybody who fails to meet my notions of an adequate power level will simply be refused entry to even the elimination process. To enter, all you must do is break the blue seal inserted into this message. You will instantly be transported here. You have thirty minutes to decide, at which point, this message and the enclosed seal will spontaneously vanish. Signed, Lord of the Lamp”
“Okay, servant, send this to all people who are capable of defeating ten normal men in combat under the tournament conditions, and yet are not too strong. They must be mortal beings equal to human beings in strength. Aliens and nonhuman species resident on earth should also be included if they are of the appropriate strength and have intelligence enough to comprehend this letter. Enchant the letter so that it is always read in the dominant language of whomever is reading it.” The Lord of the Lamp began thinking as the genie clapped his hands and the earlier wish was handled.
“Okay. Now I need a large area for this. Give me a gigantic ampitheater, concealed underground, for the basics of the ceremony. I’ll wish up the right battlefields when they’re needed.”
“Yes, my Oingo Boingo.”
The Lord of the Lamp instantly was transported to the gigantic ampitheater, a cavernous room hewn of stone. The entire room was lit by a glowing ceiling, the grain of the stone in clear detail for him. He saw warriors begin to appear from thin air, and grinned to himself. Here came another tournament, and this one would be a doozy…
OOC: Rules: We’ll be waiting for eight character entries, but if we don’t reach that, we’ll either go with four entries, or if we have more than four but less than eight, I’ll fill in a few NPCs to fight. Only enter characters who are roughly Rurouni Kenshin/Baki the Grappler level. You know, way beyond what we’re capable of, but still at least borderline believable levels. I’m reserving one entry for myself. When we first enter, there will be a huge brawl to determine what warriors get to go to the actual tournament. Basically, beat down on NPC warriors for a while, and then we get to the meat of the deal, the actual tournament. There will prizes for the characters afterwards.
|
|
|
Post by jenova on Jan 3, 2007 1:58:05 GMT -5
OOC: Would Aurora qualify, since he's now human? And tremdously weaker than what he once was.
|
|
|
Post by Tout-Perd on Jan 3, 2007 12:46:04 GMT -5
OOC: As long as he's human level strength and not using any magic or severely enhanced powers or capabilities, he'd qualify. Y'know, roughly Kenshin level is where this peaks out.
|
|
|
Post by Loogs on Jan 3, 2007 18:22:02 GMT -5
OOC: Damn, I have a very limited selection now. =P And by the way, does Raixian with undeveloped powers count? 'cause I want to bring out little Rongerik and take him out for a test drive. ^-^
|
|
|
Post by prime on Jan 4, 2007 6:39:54 GMT -5
Rob read the message carefully, then grinned. It'd been so long, far to long since he'd had any kind of fight worth mentioning. He rummaged around in his closet, looking over his selection. A bastard sword, rough and taped at the handle. Wouldn't do, damn thing was hell to swing these days. The Wakisashi, wicked little thing, but it probably wouldn't be able to take the beating. The cutlass was out to, stupid thing chafed his hand. He cursed, and his katana was broken the last time he used it. To much strength, he thought, shrugging and picking up his Bokken. As long as he was careful, it would do against anything thrown at him, he'd just have to use the modified Shaolin style to compensate for not being able to lock blades. He picked up the letter, broke the seal, and was instantly transported to a much larger place.
OOC: Yes, this is indeed me. So, if you've ever wanted to beat me up, now's your chance. Lol. Lee, how are we going to decide how matches are won? Flipping quarters? Lol.
|
|
|
Post by Tout-Perd on Jan 4, 2007 8:42:56 GMT -5
OOC: Provided he doesn't hurl fireballs willy-nilly, he'd be fine. As long as he isn't really much of a pyrokinetic yet, and doesn't have strength exceeding the normal human limit, he'd be allowed, L00gs.
Victories will be determined at the discretion of the combatants, or, if we are waiting, I'll make a judgement call. Don't worry, I'm going fairly low level into this. All characters will get a prize, just better with how well they do. (Provided they survive the initial rounds.)
I'll post my entry fairly soon.
|
|
|
Post by ch00beh on Jan 5, 2007 4:19:48 GMT -5
OOC: hmm... can I bring Ethan from Future RP into this? He's only human, 'cept he's got many, many syringes full of 'stuff'.
|
|
|
Post by Tout-Perd on Jan 5, 2007 8:14:42 GMT -5
OOC: Sure. Not much problem with defying time or such when we've got a flippin' genie collecting the competitors.
|
|
|
Post by Loogs on Jan 7, 2007 10:54:48 GMT -5
Rongerik was on his canoe fishing for food with his spear when he saw a bottle bobbing up and down along the waves of the ocean. "Hmm?" Rongerik only imagined messages in bottles to appear in old, tired American fairy tales. He jumped off the edge of the canoe and swam over to where the bottle was. He caught it, swam back to the canoe, and hoisted himself onto it. Uncorking the bottle, he reached inside with two fingers and struggled to get the letter out. He stared at the message in bewilderment. "It's even in kajin Majöl! Wow, what are the odds?" Rongerik read through the message, and immediately rowed back to land. "I have to go get my good trident!" His sandals slapped against the soles of his feet as he dashed to his treehouse and grabbed a silver trident adorned with multicolored shells. He eagerly broke the seal in the message with it and was transported to the tournament. The first person he saw was Rob. Pushing his bright red hair out of his eyes, he looked at him and said all at once, "Yokwe! Etam? Kwaar itok näät? Kwoj itok jän ia? Kwo maron ke jiban?" He held his trident closely for self-defense, seeing as Rob had a weapon with him as well. OOC: Learn Marshallese with Loogs! ^.^ Rongerik - His name was actually derived from Rongerik Atoll, an uninhabited atoll in the Marshall Islands. kajin Majöl - Marshallese (language) Yokwe - Hello, goodbye, love Etam? - What's your name? Kwaar itok näät? - When did you come? Kwoj itok jän ia? - Where did you come from? Kwo maron ke jiban? - Could you help me? Thank you, Marshallese phrasebook.
|
|
|
Post by prime on Jan 7, 2007 11:12:01 GMT -5
"Eta in Rob!" Rob said loudly, and clearly. "Kwo jela ke kajin Pälle?" He finished. "I'm afraid I've not heard much of your language. I came from canada, british columbia. I'm a martial swordsmen, and for the moment that's all you need to know. I'll happily tell you more after the melee."
|
|
|
Post by Loogs on Jan 7, 2007 11:28:23 GMT -5
"I'm surprised you knew Marshallese at all," the little ten-year-old said awkwardly. "I took a chance with it because my letter was in Marshallese... So, Mister Rob, when does the battle start? It's been a while since I could spear anything other than fish.
OOC: Yay Pacific Island nations!
|
|
|
Post by Tout-Perd on Jan 7, 2007 13:25:06 GMT -5
Flora Isobel tied her hair back, ensuring that it was well clear of her face. She had just begun preparing for her day, and wanted to make sure that she was presentable for all of her fencing students. She WAS supposed to be one of the greatest masters of fencing known to the world. Fencing was a sport of grace and beauty, the highest elevation of mankind's potential. A competition in which finesse, speed, strength, endurance, and intelligence were all put to the test.
She went to grab her gloves, elaborate constructs of the finest leather that stretched to her elbow, but was stopped by a mysterious envelope. It was certainly very expensive looking, the kind of envelope that would invite her to some kind of social function or such. Maybe an invitation to her sister's upcoming wedding? No, it couldn't be. She picked it up gingerly, and opened it. A piece of yellowed paper fell out, with ellaborate handwriting.
Oddly enough, it taxed her knowledge of languages. She was equally adept in a major European tongues, capable of understanding German, French, Spanish, English, Italian, and many others. Though the words kept switching languages on her, they never were in a language she didn't know. Peculiar indeed. Somebody must have taken personal interest in her skills. She pulled her gloves on, and went to the closet.
In the closet, dozens of swords hung, all polished meticulously. She gazed at them, trying to discern which would serve her purpose the best. There was a lot of foils, but this was supposedly a tournament either to the incapacitate, or a near lethal state. She was not one for killing, but apparently this person was one who could somehow undo death. With that thought, she pushed aside her foils, and looked at her more elaborate, lethal blades. She noticed one she had been rather fond of for more serious competitions. It had a long, sturdy blade, and its pommel was shaped like the head of a rooster. She smiled sinisterly. It was time to see what she could really do. She broke the seal, and was instantly transported.
She found herself in a rapidly filling ampitheater, bruisers of all kind beginning to appear around her. There was an odd occurence, though, a ten year old boy. She tried to navigate towards him, to find out his purpose in being here.
|
|
Private Stiffy
Joyeuse Insurgency
Ding Dong Inspector
FEAR MANOS
Posts: 136
|
Post by Private Stiffy on Jan 18, 2007 22:00:58 GMT -5
It was another sleepy morning in the 'Hood, Tyrone was busy taking his afternoon "pimp nap" so he could have all the energy he needed when the time came for slappin' the other punks around. His body lay sprawled upon a dilapidated bed, barely large enough to support his long, muscled frame. Suddenly someone burst through his bedroom door shouting, Tyrone naturally woke up and threw himself out of bed, hoping he wouldn't be capped this early in the morning. Thankfully it was just his ma, who decided to tell him that she would be at "work" and that he should do some work around the house, of course he knew his mom was a ho and she knew that her teenager wasn't about to work
The air stood still, silence reigned in the room except for the heavy bass beat that was heard every moment in this part of the 'Hood. Tyrone got to his feet and adopted his "moody gangsta' pose, leaving his mother with nothing to do or say except leave the house for work. Tyrone suddenly found himself alone, and realized that he was a hungry homie, so he quickly put on a baggy pair of jeans and pulled on a overly-large black shirt that made him look bigger than he already was, then he stuffed his favorite switchblade, his Glock, and 20 dollars into his pants. He strut out into the kitchen and got himself a bowl of Frosted Flakes, 'cuz he knew that Tony was a G and wouldn't let him down. As he snacked on his delicious, sugary cereal, he noticed a strange letter stuffed in between the frame of his door and the door itself. He grabbed the letter and opened it, scanning through it and realizing that it must've been some sort of Turf-War
"Hm... Homie needs new shoes and some bettah furniture for da crib... I guess I'll go show those other punks what Ah'm all about, Tyrone don't play no games baby!"
Enthralled within the sound of his own voice, Tyrone broke the blue seal to the letter and was instantly transported to some other G's crib, except this one was all blinged up... it wasn't cooked like his pad. Suddenly, he realized it was some sort of Theater thing, like he was supposed to learn about in school, and it was filling up with people. Tyrone looked around the try to find out what was going on, these punks weren't supposed to be here!
|
|
|
Post by ch00beh on Jan 21, 2007 12:56:40 GMT -5
OOC: heh, Spiffy, that was awesome. And welcome to the boards
Lee, I'll join eventually... I'm too lazy and tired to think of a character to enter and stuff
|
|
|
Post by Damien on Jan 21, 2007 15:35:12 GMT -5
OOC: Best RP post ever XD Spiffy is our new god.
|
|
|
Post by Loogs on Jan 22, 2007 17:41:20 GMT -5
OOC: Indeed Spiffy, that was brilliance. Way to make an entrance. Oh, and welcome to the Exodus and RP. Right now we have European fencer, little islander boy, Prime himself, and 50 Cent. I am so looking forward to this tournament. ^.^ BIC: Rongerik's head turned towards Flora. He smiled shyly, and took a few seconds to himself before he waved meekly at her. "Hello, Miss," he said timidly, still hiding behind his spear. She seemed like an interesting person... He wanted to get to know her. But this was a tournament, which meant that everyone was an enemy. Maybe after the tournament was over. Rongerik scanned the area sharply. The amphitheater was mostly empty, save for him, Rob, Flora, the Lord of the Lamp, and...some black guy that just arrived. If the earlier arrivals didn't make him scared enough, this one frightened the living daylights out of him. The scrawny little boy quaked in fear and held out his trident defensively. "Don't hurt me, don't hurt me..." he muttered to himself. Living most of his life in a secluded atoll, he had never come into contact with many people, much less a black thug. This one had muscles and a mad face, so Rongerik figured that he was going to hurt him. OOC: There, now you can RP Spiff
|
|
|
Post by albatrosstrevelyan on Jan 23, 2007 8:49:02 GMT -5
In the middle of some random town, and in some random house (obviously the house of who I speak) a woman laid in her bed sleeping. The sun rose over the horizon, and the light billowed into the second story bedroom window, and Aquara woke up, and let a loud yawn escape from deep with in her. She scratched her head, her blue hair all scraggly, and messed up.
"Damn, I have to get the mail this mornin' " Aquara said to herself in a raspy voice. She headed down stairs and she turned on one of her radio's she had set up in the kitchen. A christmas song came on, and Aquara's face twisted in disgust. She slammed her fist down a top the device, literally smashing it to pieces.
"God damn christmas is over, why the hell they still playing those stupid..." she stopped herself from getting out of control so early in the morning.
Aquara proceeded to the door, and was blown back by a pile of snow, but a slip of paper managed to get in. Going through her own little version of hypothermia, and opened the letter shaking vigorously. "What the hell, another get rich quick schem eh? Well, I take them all down..." she set the letter down and pulled out a hammer. "lets see how the seal likes this."
Aquara brought down the hammer, and the paper drifted off before she could hit it, and put a rather large hole in her new kitchen table. "You mother..." she was cutt off when the paper slapped her in the face. She quickly grabbed it and forced it down, stomping on it, until the blue seal was broken.
Aquara was teleported like the letter said, and she looked around "At least it is warm..."
Her attire wasn't suited for the weather here, she was wearing her pajama's still, with rubber duckies printed across the silk sleeping clothes. "Holy crap, where the [quack] am I?"
|
|
|
Post by Tout-Perd on Jan 23, 2007 10:47:38 GMT -5
"You are nowhere that a normal human has ever been before." The Lord of the Lamp said, stepping forward. "You all are in an arena of my creation, miles beneath the surface of the earth." Dozens of warriors had appeared at this point, most murmuring appreciatively. "I have handled the language barrier. You all should be able to understand each other perfectly well."
"I am anticipating a few more entries to this tournament before we begin, so we shall wait a while. But let me tell you this. This tournament is to determine something. It is to discern who is the greatest warrior on earth. There may be more powerful, but you all are the pinnacle of humanity, the strongest and greatest among your numbers. You may want to prepare yourself. Things are gonna get hot..."
Flora glanced at Rongerik again. This boy... He was something other than what he appeared...
|
|
|
Post by prime on Jan 23, 2007 14:11:19 GMT -5
Rob looked around at the growing crowd, honestly curious about his opponent. Many people from many lands were slowly appearing. He noticed several japanese punks with katana filling up the place as well. He walked over to a fellow we three swords. "Hi!" Rob said brightly. The man smiled and nodded at him. "Um, I hate to ask this, but this bokken is all I have at the moment, and you seem to have an abundance of extra weapons. Could I borrow one for the tournament?" The japanese man grinned. "I'd rather you did in fact, I'd rather not fight a man who's inadiquately armed." He sword the diato-katana off his back, and handed it to Rob. "Thank you." Rob said solemnly, bowing formally.
He secured the weapon on his back, still hefting the bokken. He didn't want to kill anyone if he didn't have to, and walked back to his former group. "So what do you guys think?" He said, gesturing at the warriors around them. "This looks like it could end up being tough. I like the look of that black guy though, could be a decent fight."
|
|
Private Stiffy
Joyeuse Insurgency
Ding Dong Inspector
FEAR MANOS
Posts: 136
|
Post by Private Stiffy on Jan 23, 2007 18:15:58 GMT -5
Tyrone began to look around the gaggle of people that milled about the area, noting to himself that none of him Homies were there and the Popos were nowhere to be found. As he started to focus in on people, he saw a small congregation of scrappy lookin' punks that were looking at him, one pointing a trident and one making gestures toward him, and Tyrone wasn't one who was about to be gestured at by some son not in his gang. He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted
"Yo Son, Tyrone don't play no games! Ah'm a straight up G and ah'll be in da ground 'fo ah let you tell me off, punk!"
Tyrone brought his hands up to his torso and pointed his index fingers at Rob, he then began his gesture assault. The pointing indicated Rob, and this transitioned into pointing toward himself, indicating Tyrone. Tyrone then flashed his fingers in a v sign, brought his hands to pat his butt, swung them in front of himself and made a hole with one hand while pumping two fingers into the hole, crossed his fingers into an x, and finished by making the shape of a bottle by curving his hands together. This entire gesture meant "I will anally rape you without lubricant", though normal people wouldn't get it unless they hung around the Homies in the Ghetto a lot.
Satisfied with his gestures toward Rob, he decided to approach the little group of people, convincing himself that he needed all the cred he could get in this place. Besides, gracing them with his pimpliness was an honor, and honor they wouldn't get if it wasn't some strange new 'Hood.
|
|
|
Post by prime on Jan 23, 2007 18:35:31 GMT -5
Rob raised an eyebrow, looking at the G that had just gestured at him. He recognised most of the gentures from his time spend in california, and he was no stranger to the hood. He shrugged, promptly gave the man the finger back, and didn't take it personally. Most likely he'd have a chance to speak in a language the ganster understood later. "Don't be afraid." He said to the child beside him. "You were invited here because of your strength, he has little more than you, if you are not already more powerful than he." He cracked his neck, and loosened the sword in its shieth. "Peace holmes, we ain't gonna fight till the man says we fight."
|
|
|
Post by albatrosstrevelyan on Jan 24, 2007 10:36:42 GMT -5
Aquara looked around for someone familiar and couldn't locate anyone at all. She began to mingle around the crowd when and overgrown brute knocked her over, and completley ignored her.
She stood up and tapped his shoulder. The man turned and smiled "What is a little lady like you doing here."
"Well, let me introduce my self" she said in a soft womanly tone "My name is GET THE FUCK OUT MY WAY!" she screamed, and the ear piercing soundwaves reached over the whole crowd. "YOU THINK BECAUSE I AM A FUCKING LADY YOU CAN JUST TREAT ME LIKE SHIT!"
The man backed up scared. He whispered something to his buddies "I will be afraid of ducks forever..."
Aquara shot a look around her, and people began to back up. "DOES ANYONE ELSE WANT ANY?" She did stuck her own version of a duck up (the middle finger) and proceeded to flick everyone off around her.
|
|
|
Post by Tout-Perd on Jan 24, 2007 13:40:30 GMT -5
OOC: Heh, this is the most tongue in cheek RP in years. And Kevin demonstrates what happens when you turn off the default filters.
BIC: "Greetings... Ty-rone, Rob, and all others. My name is Flora Isobel. You might know of me if you're familiar with any European schools of fencing. I've mastered virtually all of them." She smiled smugly, and tapped lightly on the hilt of her sword. "I suppose it would most likely be very profitable for all of us involved if we were to form an alliance, at least until the contest has been narrowed down from the elimination round. If my observations are correct, then we're looking at a free for all until eight people are left standing. There's five of us, so we can all keep an eye on eachother and virtually ensure making it into the actual tournament proper. How about it?"
|
|
|
Post by albatrosstrevelyan on Jan 25, 2007 8:53:03 GMT -5
Aquara laughed "Alliance? I don't know if I actually need an alliance..." She looked around "Though if they had a whip, I would actually have brute strength, and a weapon... or maybe some spiked gloves and steel toed boots"
Aquara cringed with excitment as she envisioned castrating one of the males around with one crude kick. Or wrapping a whip around there legs and causing to fall down like a boulder and take them out when they were vulnerable. "Yeah..." she said smiling "Are there any weapons we can choose from... I really wish I had a whip."
"Anyway" she said going back on topic "I guess I wouldn't mind an alliance, I am sure all these other [insert vulgur word here] would do the same..."
|
|
|
Post by prime on Jan 25, 2007 12:09:26 GMT -5
"Its a good offer" Rob said generously, "But I'm afraid I'm going to have to decline. When it comes to combat, I don't play well with others, and if none of you can make it through the elimination round on your own, then you'd hardly be fit for combat in the main tournament." He said. "And as much as I wish for an adiquate fight, I've no desire to kill anyone. I don't wish to fight those who can't hold they're own on they're own." He walked across to an opposite side of the tournament, watching the various people within the tournament do the same thing his group had attempted with him. He shrugged, if they tried to gang up on him, he'd just have to kill them. He didn't like killing anyone, but if it proved nessisary, he could do it. And he highly doubted any of the thugs filling the arena would have any qualms with killing him.
|
|
|
Post by rasaq on Jan 29, 2007 16:46:27 GMT -5
King koppa in da biuldin. Typical day in south bronx. jus chillin on da corner when five-O decide dey wan come round da block inspectin people and shit. So junno da drill. im like homie da clown... i dnt play dat. so i head ova ta my candy painted chevy (look at da neons as dey glow) pop trunk and pull out a mutha fuckin AK-47. Bet da pussy ass po-po wasn't expectin dat! so i lay dem bum niggaz out son. i like empty 5 clips and light em up like a candle. den i hop in my fly whip and drive ova ta tyrone's crib cuz need ta lay low for a while. so i pull up at millbrook projects. i run up in tyrones house and hiz momz runin her mouth talkin bout how i kidnapped him and shit. so you know i had ta put mah mac down. i couldn't let dis hoe mess wit my G'ed up swag. so i was like" yo u need ta go sit ya ass down lady. i wont hesitate ta shoot ya ass. you could get 2 clips plus wun mo." so she sat her ass down. I check ma pockets ta see if i still had my brick and i see dis lil letter wit a blue seal. so i read and it goes a lil sumthin like dis. ""Yo King Koopa, 3 big booty chics and a bottle of henny u in?"so i say aloud "make it a bottle of dat purple drink and im in" and i pop da seal.
|
|