Tournament of Champions 3 (The game has begun!)



  • Glorious morning-tide everybeings! Weself am most fertiliciously exuberant for a woodland duel-to-the-discombobulation. Most goodly places to fester. An abundance of slow mammals. Weself am secondly projecting well-wishes to usself's first adversary. Anxiety tastes most unhyggely! In order to be prepared (like any good meal), one should locomotize their appendages into a jogging fashion for, say, 200 kilometers before said confrontation. Lactic acid will transmogrify your fleshy-flesh suplendidly! slurp slurp slurp 
  • Scrolling through the forums for the first time in a year it’s so hype to see the tournament up and running again!!
  • @DoctorFro I know! It's amazing!!
  • It’s a shame I wasn’t in the forums when it started I would have loved to compete.
  • edited August 2020
    Tipping the scale

    As the sun descended beneath the horizon, an urgent meeting was taking place in Gwendolyn headquarters. 
    General Mikuel sat with his head resting in his hands, looking at the half composed black skull and the corrupted form of a large dead bat that lied in the middle of the table. Around the table sat a dozen other people. 

    "You are sure about this?" he said.

    "Without a doubt. This bat or whatever it was before have been corrupted with abyssal energy and thus made Arkan." Said one of the clairvoyants. 

    "You got any clues where it came from or who or what made it."
    "We believe that it was the cause of Pan's downfall two days ago. The wounds match up. So we searched the dungeon. There we found desolated corpses and prisoners covering in fear of moktaractus and Septhis' arrival. So it must have been there but we could not find if it came from there or not." said a captain. 

    "You did not find anything else?"

    "No, we did not. We did interrogate Efilia but she was just like the prisoners terrified." 

    "She might have played you for fools."

    "I can ensure you, general. She might have not given us all the details but her eyes did not lie. She did not make this Arkan."

    "So it was Efilia's doing, then who was it? Who would want Pan out of the competition and maybe Efilia too?"

    "Everyone." said a young tactician. 

    "We are not here to make jokes. We are here because an Arkan corrupted was loose in the city. What if the source of this thing would corrupt something larger like a dragon or yet worse, create an Arkanai? I should not need to tell you how devastating a Terror Arkanai would be." said Mikuel 

    "No, general. I understand completely. Forgive me, general" said the tactician.

    "Again. Who would and possibly could make this Arkan?"

    "Of the contestants, there are a couple of candidates but we see only that four of them have the appropriate... tone, to them. These are Jelene, Efilia, Squrtlurglus and Niran."
    We can both assume that it is neither Efilia nor Jelene. Efilia for the reasons Fenrik just gave and we are quite certain that Jelene could not handle abyssal energy without herself falling to it. She desires power too much to be able to resist. said the clairvoyant.

    "Why would you assume that?"

    "Her sword, general, is a demonic sword. No one that does not lust for power would ever just such sword. If the demon of the sword would be in command of her, it would not be possible for it to create a corruption without corrupting its vessel as well. 

    "That leaves the ooze and Niran." 

    "We don't know anything about Niran yet but we are quite sure that Squrtlurglus is involved in some way."

    "Why do you think that?"

    The clairvoyant pointed at the skull on the table. "The Arkan was carrying that skull when the guard shot it down. That skull has fragments of a certain liquid inside, a liquid that could only be extracted from oozes. We know nothing about what the ooze is doing or what it is capable of. It could maybe even use abyssal magic without our knowledge."

    "A Medirnan army is marching into Vosanova, a Dormanian royal was recently in Kiserova, and an abyssal ooze is corrupting bats. It looks like Medirna is trying to tip the scale. Get the messengers ready. It's time to tip the scale the other way." Said Mikuel. 
  • edited August 2020
    Akuma's eyes darted around her room. Every rustle of clothing the sound of lurking danger, every shadow lying in wait to attack her, every gust of wind the cold fingers of some unseen enemy. The night air may have been cold, but her sweat was unrelenting, chilling her legs and causing her nightgown to stick to her under her duvet. She thought back to her conversation with Efilia. Pan's death. The prisoners. The names she had mentioned, Moktaractus and Septhis. Who were they? What were they? Mages? Gods? Demons? Worse? Akuma's mouth went dry as she thought about the future of the tournament. Would they have to cancel it? Or would they continue? Akuma wasn't sure which she preferred. A particularly strong gust of wind broke a vine outside Akuma's window. The loose end of vine blew in through the window and lightly brushed Akuma's cheek. Akuma panicked, throwing herself from her bed and onto the floor, where she grabbed Naku Tsuki. She drew the sword with enough power to completely snap the cord keeping the sword in the saya. With one deadly arc, she swung her sword through the vine and firmly embedded the blade in the window frame. The vine landed on her foot, and she leapt back in terror, grabbing her tanto and throwing it at the perceived threat on the floor. It impaled the vine, and Akuma quickly fumbled with the lamp by her bed, turning it on to get a good look at the intruder. When she saw it was just a vine, she slowly sank to her knees. Her breathing was rapid, and her heart hammered in her chest. She slowly stood up and wrenched Naku Tsuki from the window frame. She resheathed it carefully, her shaking hands preventing her from doing it in one smooth motion. She flopped onto her bed and hugged her sword to her chest. Eventually, she fell into an uneasy sleep...
  • edited August 2020

    Niran, Graagdord, and Gorchi meandered through the dimly lit room of the Gluttonous Akon, not too slowly as to never reach their destination, yet not too focused as to gather unwanted attention, wherever it was. The insides of the tavern proved only to be a little bit more lively than the outside, with only a few vagabonds cloaked in shadows sitting at the tables randomly littered about. In the corner a haggard looking man strung a soft tune on his ramshackle lute. It was out of tune and badly played, but it did liven the mood a little bit. Niran weaved through the jungle of furniture with the goblin duo closely behind, and leaned right up to the man’s ear.

    “We’ve come to feed the Arkanai.” Niran whispered.

    The man stopped playing and stood up, opening a door that was previously hidden from view. Niran began to step into the hidden pathway, but stopped as she noticed Graagdord and Gorchi hesitate.

    “What’s wrong?” Niran asked.

    “Uhh, you’ve been very helpful to us and all, but how do we know that we can trust you and this man you’re taking us to?” Graagdord responded with a slight discomfort in his voice.

    “Yeah, how do we know we’re not walking into one of his traps?” Gorchi replied as well. She tried to sound like she wasn’t nervous, yet her visibly tight grip on her torch/improvisational beat stick gave it away.

    “Oh! I forgot to tell you all about him!” Niran exclaimed. “His name is Jeraph, and he’s the owner of this place! He also is a collector of all sorts of foods, including those that would normally be illegal. I’ve helped him out with carrying different packages, and in exchange he gives me bread to eat! He says he’s willing to pay any price to get what he wants, but I don’t think that’s true. He’s just too nice!”

    Graagdord and Gorchi looked at each other, then looked back at Niran. The two shared a deep sense of concern, not only about the man they were about to meet but for Niran herself as well. After a brief moment of awkward silence, Graagdord gave a shrug.

    “Eh, what’s the worst that could happen? Lead us the way.”

    With the confirmation given Niran resumed to walk through the pathway, this time with Graagdord and Gorchi in tow. The pathway slowly became smaller and more winding, until it led into a cavernous room. The room was filled with all kinds of food, each preserved with a variety of spices and coverings. There were a few cages strewn about; some small, some big, yet all empty.  It was hard to see in the room, as the only light source present was a lantern set on top of a large table covered in animal blood. A lone man sat working at the table, hacking and slicing away at the large corpse in front of him. As the trio entered the room, the man looked over his shoulder and gave an irritated look.

    “Oh, great, it’s you. If you couldn’t already tell, I’m not in the mood to have to deal with some noisy gifts. I’ve already got my hands full with this subject.” Jeraph said condescendingly. Niran didn’t seem to notice.

    “Graagdord and Gorchi are here to trade with you, silly! They have something that they say is a delicacy from where they live!” Niran innocently replied. Jeraph perked up, halting all progress on his current project.

    “Hmm. Color me intrigued. Niran, you are dismissed. I shall see as to what these two have brought me that is so important as to disturb my work.” Jeraph said coldly. Niran took that as her queue to leave. She quietly walked towards the only exit in the room… and hid behind a wall inside the hallway. She wasn’t so keen on leaving two people she just met.

    Niran quietly listened to the business between the two goblins and the collector. Soon she could smell the tell-tale odor of the cheese, forcing her to cover her nose with her shirt so as to not gag. However, her sense of smell was not the only thing that was assaulted. Her body began to feel cold to the touch, as though all the warmth inside her had been stolen away. Niran knew that something was wrong, but she couldn’t put her finger on exactly why…

  • edited August 2020

    Y̸̛̞̬̳̹̮̠͎̅̈͒̅̉͂̄͐̈́̂̏̒͘͝o̷̦͑̏̍ư̶̧͎̜̹͈̯͆̂̌̈̉̇͂͑̂̕̕͝ͅ ̵̛̪̜̳͚͚̩̻̂̐͒̌̇̈́̀̃̊͐͘͠͝f̵̡̼̩̗͓͍͍̬͂́́ȩ̵͖̭̣̮͔͈̺͙̖̳̺̓̾͛̆̈́̐̆͂̕̚e̶͍͊̂́̋̎̀̄͝l̸͈͎̝̍̾̀͗̕͘͝͠ ̴̢̜͉͖͍̣̜͓̿̐͗̐̊̍̊̆̕į̸̲̙̙̮̯̱̠̲̦̝̼̗͙̋t̶̢̹͙̘̭̝̟̄̌͂̾̕ ̸̛͈̠̰̝͇̦̮͈̭̤̦̤͆̋̌̓̄̑̏̈́̽t̷͉̙̮̪̲͖̫̪̥̥̮͕̥̓̄̀̇̀̐̓̀́͝ͅͅō̷̢͎̣̣̲̜̙͔͎̤̗̳̲̍̈́̚ộ̴̩͐̒̽̀͠ ̸̛̛̟͙̫̌̀̑͌͝ḋ̷̞͇̻͓̞̗̖̺̮̀́̚͝ö̸̢̻͖͉̈́̒̉̐͋͗́͘͘͘n̷͍͍̙̩̟͎̝̗̫̉̒̈͌̓͑̈̆̉'̶̨̨͔̪͓̼̪̟́̇̆̌̈́̃͛͌̚̕͜͝ͅͅt̷̤̻̯͇͔̟͉̩͎͎̝͉͍̎͑̀́ͅ ̶͉̼̘̜͐̎͐̂̀̄̃̑͆̆̌͝y̴̡̲̙͉̫̱͕̱̩̹̙͇͂́͗̅͛͌̏͆̈́̑͝͝ͅo̸̩̻̮̰͎̍̂̎̈́̾̂͑̈̃͋̈̋ú̵̧̡̟̩̼͔̦̭̹̎͜͝?̴̧̫̙̫̹̹̘͎͕͔̱̜̪̦̍̿͝͝

    ̴̢͇̬̺̱̭̪̖̈́̓̏́̇̀͌̈͜͜͜͝Ţ̶̰̬́͑̽̈́͛̇͠h̴̲̬̗͕͓͉̞͍̹̫̠̝͇͂͛̓a̸̼͍͕̖̼̜̜̮̮͆̃̾̏̌͒͆t̶̨̨͖̯̼̗̳̖͔̤̙͙̣̞̎͋͒̋̒̊͆̅͆̒͠ͅ ̵͇̺̊̈̀f̴͍̯̤̬͉̜̲͒͌̈́̌̒̅̌̔̆̒̕͝e̴̛͚̭̫̱̬̙̺͙̻̥͌͆̏̐̇̾̓̇̎̿̕͘e̸̝̣̗̝͊̎̈́̃͝͝l̵̛͕̘͊̏̍̽̋͋̇͗̌į̸̡̨̘͓͚̥̤̺̩̒͌̔̒̈́̔̉͌̈̾̏͘͘͝ͅn̸̡̛̝̩̹͉̘̪̱̪̠̥͖͉̝̭̍̂̆̀̉̃̃̓͊͐̒g̵̯̞̝͑̀̂͐͝ ̶͕͎̥͇̒̌́͆̈́͐̓̽̕̕͝͠o̸̩͖̤̻͈͔̍̆́̋̾̂́͘ͅf̴͔͓̺̖͙̦̱̻̘́̍̌͜ ̵̢̼̰͙̱̰̼̝͈̣̬͇͖̥̌̔̏̋̆̓̀̉̽̈̒͝ͅd̴̲͓̪͙̭͎̀̈́̔̎́̑̑̇̓̎͗̇̈́r̴̨̢̢̨̳͍̬̻̫͇̼͐̓̒̌͂̚ĕ̶̪̫̳͎́͠͝ą̴̬̰̩͈̹͓̘̖̫̮̎̌̌̔̉̔̀̀̑̈́̈́̂͐͗ḑ̷̿́?̶̘͉͉͈͍̗̦̫̭͖̍

    ̶̨̨̡̩̟̯̣̰̥̭̬̩̬̜͚̽̊A̶̡̛̱͊̿̾̓́̅̿̆̚͝s̸̛̥̗̟͓̼͈̻͖͉͕̤̮͉̻͆̽̈̇̂͐̍̏̚͜ ̴̺̺͐͑̓̑̾͒̂̈́̂͌͊͛̐͘t̸͔͖̓̔́̎̔̏͠h̵̨̗̥̖̺̊͑͑͠o̷͇̦̠͚̥͚͙̩̰̠͚͋̽͑͛ȕ̶̢̞̦͈͌͜͠g̶̛̹̮̥̝̰̺̣̻͍̘̞̀̏̈́̂͐̿̑̍h̵̨̙͔̺͚̤̮͈̩̮̗̀̃̈̈́͊̿ ̸̧̡̛̞͓̝̲̳̲̼̯̗͖̪̃̆́̍͂̽̊̚͝͝s̸̙̬̜͚̺͎̻̩͕̬̯̙̦͌̑͐ö̴͇̝͙̖̦́̈́̐͛̈̃͐̒́̏̓̾͘ṁ̶̢̼̞̜͙͔̥̰̘̫̈͂ͅẹ̸̡͍̙͕̦̜͍̮̭͖͈̰̼͔̍̋̀̎̋̓õ̷̧̤͕͕͇͋̍͋̃͝͝ͅǹ̸̡̮͔̪̲̻̪͍͚ȩ̸̡̭̟̤̹̞̲͎̪͕̈̀͆͑̈́̃ ̵̧̧̧͖̘͍̭̜̩͚̞͓̭̩̅̓́̀̎̉̋͂̂͂͊̚h̵̢̨̡̠̰͚̱̞̪̳̻̋̈̀̓̌͗͌̎̊͊̊͘̚â̶̪̠̻̦̰͍̅̂̆̀́̈́̀̎́̎͘̕͝͠s̷̗͕̱͗̈́̀̿ ̵̧̮̜̬̯̤̙͚̊̀͂̔͜d̸̫̻̩͕͗͋͑́͒͛̊̾͘ơ̵̡̞̮̜͉̻͕̪̹̜̜̤͚͋͐̌̋̅̎͂̅̓͂̀͊̄͜n̷̛̼̞̗̪͊̒͋̌͆̎̍͐̀͘͠e̷͈̼͂͌̀̿̏̍̄̿̏͌͝ ̸̞̯̻͉͖͍̩̎́͌̈́̓̌̃͆̽̄s̵̛̱͚͉̘̯͓̥̩͉̩̥̞͇̈́͜o̵͉̙̰̥̱̳̳̫̖̟̻̯̾̿͆̒̓m̵̛̗̒̌̒̍̈́͆̓͝e̵̡̹̪̘͚͕͖̥͌̑̈́͌̈̎͒̀͑͂̾͝t̶̹̹͇͔̺̦͇̙͓̼͍͎̳̘̠̀͛́̕ẖ̵̡̟̻̮̦͇͇̪̯̼̭̂į̴̨̰͉͔̞̦̙̙̣̋̉͐̐̂͋̊͂̽͗͜͜͝͝n̶̢̛̖̤͔͑̿̈́͊̈̈̀̀̋͑͑̚͝͠ͅg̶̨̢͍̤͎̪̤͊͐̿̓͌̾ ̴̢̞͈͕̜̪̼͓̫̗̦̳̥̯̓̈́̾ų̵͔̘̲̫͕͉̖̻̩̬̆̈̂̊́͛̄͊̈͛̔̌̈̚͠n̶͚̖͚̲͚̓͌͂͋̃͑̆̀̈́̑̎̆͑̂͜͝ť̶͍͑̾̐̋̓̒̋̃̆̒̀̍̾̒h̵̲̙̥̜͉̑͊͊͌͜͠i̴͍̣̱̘̮͆̒͋͛̈́͘͠n̷̼̳͈͘ḱ̷̢̪́̓̉͊á̸̡̡̢͔̭̦̻̻̝͎̥͝b̷͎̰̞̊͗̾͌͌̄͆͒̆l̷̨̨̡͇̯̰̥͙̓̽͒̀̓̓̏͂̽̓͑͂̎́̈́e̷̛͇͉̙̯͈͙͍̥͖͎̬̦̬̎̈́̿̔̀̊̐͋̈͋̃͝͝͝?̷̙̫͓̩̙̺̠̭͛̓͌̕ͅ


    Niran clutched her head as a familiar voice returned. Why do you always come back? I told you to leave me alone. Niran thought.

    H̵̨̡̖̝̻̦̞̰̗̼̟̐̉͋̏̌̈̌̀̐͆̉̆͜u̴̧̡̞̙̮͈̥̲̍͗̔̈̾͗̈́́͆̍͋́̕͜ͅs̵̛͕͓̲̭̮̄͒̈́͊̋̏̈́͒̚͝ͅͅh̶̹̙̦̖́̈̅̏́̈̾̒̈́̋̃,̴̢̢̛̹̗̟͕͔̥͖̮͓̋͊͗̈́́̐͝ ̴̪̱̝͙͇͙̪̘̺̏͛̌̏͌͑̕̕͜c̴̡̨̬̫͔͉̦͇͖̳̥͕̒̍̓̃h̶̢̻̳̭̭͎̺̮͖̫͐͌̀̿̉̇͒̿̋̓̃̃̈́̚͜ỉ̸͔̐ļ̸̨̨͕̱̞̦̻͐̉̈́͛̕ͅd̶̢͔̣̟̺͍͖̻̮̤͕̀͊̎͑̈́̉̐̍̀͊̍̋̋͝͝ͅ.̸̨̢̛̱̝̽̉̀̎̐̃̑́͒̚

    ̶̡͎͓̩̩̠̤̥͍͎͎͕̔̄̽̏͜W̴̤͓̖̳͎͑̑̓͘h̵̥̤͓͍͉̄̈́̄̐̈́î̸̛̳̳̹̼̩̙̰͉͚̣̲͎̹̇̍̑͆͊̈́̍̅̓̔̉̀̾l̴̢̢̡͉̰͖͔̪̬̰̘͙̩̻̼͆͑̒̋͂̈́ē̵̲̪̱̦̠̞̣͙̹͔̼̜̭͗̍̈́͛ͅ ̸̡͚͕̮̥̭̩̮͕̠̤̀͒̏̅̎͗́̀̕ͅͅÿ̶̡̰̘̝̘͎̻̯̼̲͓͈̗́̽̀͑̇͐̽͊̈́̕͠ǫ̴͔͔̯͖̬͖̮̆̆̆͑̐̈̔̐̚̚͝u̸͙̖̙̍͌̐̈́͂͘͘͝͝ ̵̧̧̭̝̣͚͍͓̆̇̾̈́͌̂͗́̿̐͠͝w̴͇͎͛̋̿̎̓͒̽̆e̵̡̢̢̛̝̝̥͍͂̄͛̐̍͒̍͗̈́͗͆͛̕r̸̯̆̈́̄͊ͅe̶̛͇̞̥͒̓̑̾̿̆́͝.̵̰̖̭͔̳̳̻̻͊̔́̒̑̾̀̒̚̚͘.̶̩͕͎̠͕̈̅̐͒̅̾͒̈́͝.̸̢̨̡̪͙͚̭͇̩͇̻̤̗̯̑̉̊̀́̌̐̔̍̀͆̋͝ ̷̢̬̦̞͈̜̲͔͚̠͕̪̻̐̔͌͊̏̒͝w̴͔̫̣̅́͌͛̑̈́̋͐̇̄̚͝ͅḩ̸̢̲͙͖̙͙͔̰̰͍̰̹̍͂͗̌̈́̽͜ả̸̘͎̜̱̦̯̱̂̆̈́t̸̡̤͇̳͍͒ͅ ̵̢̛̣̬̜̝͎̜̞̰̳͆̈̿̀̈́̈́̂̅͆͋̍̈͌͜͝ȉ̵̡̡̳̣͖͎͓͖̗̹͎̋̏́s̵̥̳̟͓̭͋̐̿̆͋̕̕͠ ̶͔̎͗̓̕i̸̱̠͓̲̱̬͉̾̀ͅṭ̸̩̎̆͠ ̶͇̗͍̗͚̳̼̞͖̮̠̓̒͒͆͋̏̊͋́͌̋̃͘c̵̢̝̮͈̞̬̊̃̓̓͑͐͊̎̚͠a̵̡̧͔̬̘̪̟̽́͑̀̀͛̌̂̔̎̐̈́l̵̰͎̬͔̻̪̫̹̽͂̍̀͊̋͒̚͝ĺ̵͚̩̣͓̻̜̭͕͔̺͓̱̣̟͊̐͛̃́̔̆̂̍̌̎̄̚͘e̸̢̢̧̛̫̙̣̱͇̫͉̪͖̤̞͊̒̇̋̀͠ḓ̴͍̭͔͐̏͋͂̀̔͑͗?̵̢̛͓̞͓̗̯̤̤͇̬̏̌̌͑̎͐̄̄̏̃̏ͅ

    ̶̜̮͉̏̈̇̀́͑̿́́̚ͅB̷̨͎̰̗͚̰̟̰̜͈̦̬̳͓͆̈́̌̎͛͛͑o̷̢̡̩͖̩̫̰̮̠͚̼̰͕̘̓̀͒̏͒̈ͅn̷̨̡̢̧̩̼̗͉̖̜̝͍̻͍̅̇̋̇̂d̷̹͔͂͗͑͆̽̾̋͐i̵̡̨̥͍̣͉̹̩̦̿̑̌̔̈́̋̒̓́̽̈́̕͘͝n̵͇̦͔̻͖̈̃̃͗͐̈͌͛̋̊̽͘̚͜͝͠g̵̳͍̝̘̍͂̔̈́ ̶͙̹̩̗̯̤̖̪̓̈̀̓͐̾̐̈́̆̽͘w̶̢̢̨̳̬͚͕̠͚̗̋̆i̶̡̮̝̰̬̞̖̲̽̅̐͋͐̈̆̃̕̚ţ̶̳̙̦̭̬̠̟̝͓̳̈̇͒͗̄̒ͅẖ̵̨̋͂͛̐́̓̇̋̅̔͆̾ ̵̢̡̰͕͎̝̩͖̦̥̖̰̥̏̀̔̆̈͗́ẗ̸̡̤͖͚͕͍͓͂̿̀̔͌̄̃̊͑̋̕̚͠͠h̸̟͎͓̣͒̈ơ̴̫̣̰̘͙͑̓̌̂̑s̵̢̥̠͉͉̈́̓̇̆ë̸̲̞̭̞̬̦̈́̓̄̉̂̐̔̽̎̈̕͠ ̵̡̱̞̻̖̗̗̼͙̦͓̹̺̞̎͛͆̏̂͂̚̕g̵̛̙̬͙̟͎̼͉̟̩̝͆̍͂͜͜͜ò̸̢̡͈̰̞͔̲̤̔̋̏͌̐b̶͙̈́̾̔̌͌͠͝l̴̨̖͔͒͛̈́̄̿̐̍͌͂͝i̸̥͈̝̮͚̫͍͆̍̔͋̆̚n̵̨̨̡͖̫̪͍̙͕̞̣͙̹̤̓̀͌̔̑̕͜s̸̡͕͉̱̫̤̻̜͗̊̒̾̐͗̄̌́͘?̶͍̖̘̭̺̤̝͚̥̗̃̈̔̈́͆̂̊͒̊͂̇͂̚̕͝

    ̸̢̧̢͓̖̜͈̟̬̰̰̤̰̮̓͜Í̴͔̰̹̈̈́̓̓͆̕̚͝ͅ ̵̛̻͚̠̟̰̞̬̮͚̍́͑̽͜͜h̷̨̘̯̺̗̺̥̲͍̳̪̲̘́͠ą̴̡̛̹͎̠̺̻͖̪͖̯͇̾̀̀́̓̋̈͑͗̿̕v̶̳̖̳̼̻̥͖̩̦͎͕̭̙̔͜͝ę̶̢̺͔͚̩̥͉̬̈̔̂͑̓̓̌̄̓̈̚͜͝͝ ̶̧͉̲̝̼̹̥̙̪͚̀̎̐̄̔̔̅ḇ̷̨̳̦̹̓͆̎̃́̒́̆͝ͅȩ̷̤͕̤̝̱̏̈́̾̐̍̑̊̿͗͘̕͝e̷̛̪͙̩̙͂͆̑̇̇̅͆͛̅͗ͅn̶̝͚̞͉̙͙̮͋̐̏̄͗̚ ̶̜̑̏͗̀̀̇͠w̷̥̬͚̤̼̻͉̜͇̦͗̏̍͂̒̈́̇͛́̚͝ä̸͖̣̱̲́̓̋̋͊ţ̸̨̙̲̗͔͈̞̙̹̹̀̔̏͂̊͒͑̑͆͐̏͛͝c̶̛͖̹̤̜̯͇͉̝̋̆̉̈́͊͐̄͘ͅh̸̛̹̙̊͑̐͊̀͂̓̔̄͝͝ĭ̸̬͎̜̐̇͛̏͘͜͜͠ņ̷̛̘̞̥̻̥̰̲͕̪͖͔̟̉̀͐̇̾̎̍̿̎̂̄̉̚͜͝g̵̢͍̩͍̮͉̳̘͈͇̘̠͛ ̸̡̛̛̪̫̼͕̯͓̱͚̱̞͇̙͂͌͆͋͊̓̎́̊̋͘͝͝t̴̝́̆̈́̅h̸̖́̈́̍̾́̉e̸̫̗͉̱̻̝̤͔̣̟̣̓ ̵̨͖͇̭͉̣̠̲̤͎͗͌̄̆̅̒͐̓̔̆͌͌͘͝ͅe̵̡̧̧̱͖̠̤̻͎̣̝̺̟̯̱͌v̶̨̼̼̲͇̯͈̭̰̪̫͎̮͓̙̏͠e̸̛̘̙͓̲͍̩͎͘n̵̢̡̧̛̰͚̟̜̳̠͍͙̰̥̗͊́̾́̄́̂̀̏͜͠͝t̷̳̳̥̟̳̠̱̗̠̱̮̹͇̫̍̌͑̎̄̾͗̓̽̔̈́͘͘͝s̷͚̦̞͉̦̓̋̈́̅͆̆͊̓͐̄̋̂̈́͝ ̷̡̼͚̱͈̭̦͓͂̽̆̀̀͑͊ţ̷̛̛̛̦̻̉̉̓͒́̽h̵̖̳͖̲̱̜͓̠͙͈͉̿̏̂̇̾̍̊̀́̓̓͐͊͜͝a̵͇̼̟̗̭̺̮͈̪̟̠̍̃͛̉̽̋͊ṫ̷͚̼̭͕͙̝̪̪̩͒̐͛̾̂̈́͌͑̚̕ ̷̢̗̪̮̮̝͔̮̱̺̠̞̀̆̽͝ḫ̴̨͖̜̲͖͉̜͍̖͙͉̌͜͜ȁ̷̧̪̙̟̙̣̫̰̮̩̗̰͛͋͝v̴̧̨̨̩̪̞̤̙̣̲̤̖̱̆̉̾̔̏ͅe̶̢͕͈̲̼̲̺̓́̒ ̸̹̘̺͖̹̙͎̩̦̬̝̻̙̾̒̽͌̈́̅̔́͂̃͑̈̽͐̕ť̸̡̛͉͉̭̐̓͌̌͑̄͝ͅr̶̛͚͓͉̅̏̊̿̈́̈́̃̇́̑͘͝ͅã̷̢̧͙̼̩͇͉̫̘̍͋̆̊̌̚͝ǹ̸̨͉̱̹̼̟̄̈́̿̚s̴̫̭̺̯̭̑́̐̑̂̈̎̐̎͐ͅp̷̮͈̳͓̭͍̓͊͂̈́̃̏̾͐͘į̸̧̪̻͕̦͕̬̣̞͉̳̾͝r̶̢̢͍̝͇̤̥͔̒͂͑̐̔͛́̌̿̑̇̚̚͝e̶̪̱̍̋̃͝ḑ̷̢̛͉̹̪̻̯̘̬̏͑͗͌̂̇͊̍̐̿̊͑͝.̴̖͈͙̼̠̬̼̺͉͈͇̑͂̎̅͆̃̌̐̆̚͜͜ͅ

    ̷̟̱͕̅͐͆́͋̀͌͗̄͛̔͛S̶̰̗̆͗̿̆̓̊͛͊͐̓̕̕͝õ̶̢̜̠͕͇͈͓̫̤̒̍̓͛͗̓̿̈́ḿ̷̨̰̙̳͙̟͇͔͈̖̞̅̑̄̊̈́̌̑͘̕̚͘͝é̴͓͓͎̖̤̹͙̰̗̭̫̞͇̓͒̋͛̆̓o̶̥͍͓͎̮̐͋͐́̏̓͑̂̉n̶̝̺̻̱͔͆̔͗͊͂́̊̓͠ȩ̵̛̝̞͉̬̱͐͊̈́̾̾̇̔̔͜͠ ̷̧̛̠͎̘͇̬̺͖͕͋h̶̢̫̻̥͍̝͚̠͉̩̟̘́̉̂͜ḁ̶̛̱̳͙͊̅̎͋̈́̀̋́͌̎͋̀̈͝ş̸̥̲̟͇̣͍͈̜̏̋ ̷̧͕͈́́̽͌̚͠î̸̜͍̭̙̭̦̖̆̑͘͝n̴̪͚̥͍̥̥̥̤̺͓͗̄̀̕͝t̸͔͓̣̪̺̬̰̞̳͆̓̈́̒̂͊̓̍̅̐͘ē̴̡̨̨̼̯̪̲̙̙̟͖̻̻̹͊̈́́̾͆̂͆͗̎̅͐͒r̶̤̫̩̪͓̈͑̈͗̀̈́̎̌̽̀̄͒͆͘̚f̸̻̤̩̘̼͖͔̫̅͒̋͑͝͝e̴̠̝̫̘̝̣̘̥̥̯̘̝̎̊̂͜͜r̶͉̲̩̙̼͈͗̓͊̑̄̾̋͆͌̉͆̿͝͠e̴̤͓̝̼͎̘̥̟͆͂́̀̑͋̎̄͜d̸̨̨̢̤̺̲̭͇̘̠̹̼͙̓͂̉͂̌̿̅̾͗̒̓̕͘͜͜ ̵̮̳̮̫̟̩̬̿̍̓̄́͗͘͠͠͠ì̶̢̞̋͝ņ̷̛̞̜̫̭̮̼͓͉͚͎̟͓́̂̇̌̇̊̉̔́̐̿͊̏͐ͅ ̶̨̢̛̩̮͚̆͑̈͂̒̍̄͛͝t̵̢͖̫̺̥̯̰͔͇̗̦͖͉͗̆͗̇̔̍͋͐̽͒͂̂͜ḩ̵̟̻̗̙̙̫͈̝͉͖̘̼̱̦͗̿̇̆̒̌̋̅̐̐͆̄͐͝͝e̶̢̮͖̱̩̟̥̮̭͙͎̩̾̆̈̐͂̐̏̇̆̓̂͒͆ ̸̢̈́̐͛̕͝T̵̨̨̹͈̠͈̹̤̖̲̙̜̾̒͛̈́̀̅̚͝o̶͙̹̜͎͉̫̖̎̇̎̊́̎̉̕u̸̝̤͊̔̂̋͐̆͛͗͑r̴̨͎͎̘̪̳̳͉͉̩̺̣͆͆͂̌́̽̈́́̀̾̏̍̚͠n̷̛̝͚̳͖̗͖̣͇̬͚̜̞̗̿̈́̍̉̈̂̔̚͝͝͠a̵̙̞̎̏̑m̷͙̘̩͕͇͐̎̌̆̎̀́͋̾̔̅͜ė̸̺͉͐͒̂̋̽͛̈́͛̓̅͌̕n̴͇̼͉̖̠̽̒͐̈̎̒̏̆͊̓̈́͝t̸̹̟̱̰͌̏̈́͋̔͌̊̌͒̊͗͝.̷̰̈̄̆̀̈͋͗͋̓͛͝

    ̶̨̱̗͈͈͚͈̞̻̰͈̬̇̆̍̑̿͜A̴̼̼̗̠̖̹̭̬͍͎̭̻͋ñ̵̢͉͍͉͙̲̺̙͙̪̖̰̜͈̺͛̋̒͝d̷̢̬̪̬̬̺̠̘̠͙̻̬͚̲͔̀ ̶̨̱̩̯̲͎͙͔̙͎̾̃̅͆̀̉̏͆̕͜͜i̸̗̩̫͙̖͗̇̾͐̾̓̽̊͌̄̏̚̚͝t̵̟̝̹͍̺̣̹̪̭̫͙̦̳̀̐̔͐͗̆̔̕͠ ̸͚̻̙̲͕̙̝͖͙̝̞̙̳͗̿̃́̿͌̃͆̄̅̑́̽͝͝ͅl̵̨̯̠̺̪̥̹͕̗̮͂̈́̕o̷̧͓̤̬͔̫̻͎͎͔̙͖͚̖̅̓͘͜͝o̴͍̤̎͋̓k̷̼̙͇̪͘s̴̛̛͍̻͓̬̺̼̻͆̓͗̅̔͒̇̍̾̕͘͠͝ ̶͚͙̿̽̿̂̂̔̋͒̈́̊̌̽͒͝l̶̡͈̻̠̪̠͈͙̙̋͗ͅi̴̧̺̐͒̀̏k̵̡̛̩͖̝̻̜̳̝̰̗̞̺͗̓̍̑͜ͅe̸̠̓̔́̔̑͑̆̓̿͆͘̚͝͝͝.̶̡̬̞͉̙͉͇̩̖͓̼̥̇͜.̷͈̦̱̦͛͌̍.̷̲͓̘͇͕̦̜͍̻̔͗̎̃̀͒͒̑͗̀͑̚͘͝͝

    ̸̻̣͕͚̮̳̺̣̄̀̈́͑͊̐͋͘͘H̵͙̺̘̄͛̍̋̆̉̂͗̽̃̈́̈̐̏̚A̴̢̳̗̠͉̩̹̭̱͈̜͖̩̯̾̿͌͐̅̊͂ͅ ̷̳̋̆̆̆͊̚Ḧ̸͖̲͇̪̦̮̼͖́̈́̈́̓͑̾͂̌͛̀͗̿͝A̸̧̨̮̞̗̥̣̻̣̼̻͜͠.̸̧̨̛̥̹͖͕̟̭̜͙̰̰̈́́͆̃̅̂͑͛̕̚.̵̧̜̞̘̘̦̘̞͚̰̙̹͌͑̃̽̾̾́͂̽̒̅̓͠.̵̪͌͛̀̽̇͒̈́̒͘

    ̶̛̻̙̫̯̾́̓̈́̂̀̆̍̈́́̑̐̚.̷̜͒̆͂̿́̍́̾.̵͇͔̾̎̌̈́̽̈͛͘͘͝͠.̶̢̡̥͇͇̍̓̈̓̓̈͗H̶͓̟̰̥̦̗́̈́͐̌̽͒̂̀̂̄̅͋̚͝͝Ą̵̗̤̬̻̟̭͍̲̖͛̀̃͊͌̓͌́͑͜ ̷̦̫͛̆̆̓̉̉̆̓́̓̉̾͝͠H̷̱͓̞̰̠̫̦̺́͊͂̑̽̽̎̏̽͒͌͛Ả̶̡͓̘̰̹̦̻̯̳͓̖̙̤̭̒͋̐͐́͜ ̵̧͖̼̯̘͓͕̘̣͈̭͜͝H̴̢̠͕̓̓̒̑̍͠ͅA̶̢̢͙̻̜̗̳͖̻̺̼̟̩͎̹̋͊͆̈́.̸̧͚̫̝̰̔̏̋̈́́.̵̧̙͍̼̰̦͉̣̘͔̍́͆̔́̽̇́̒͂͐̍͝͝͠.̴͕͔̲͓̪̖̥̹̤͉̼̮̗̓̏͆́̄̔͑̕͠

    Why are you laughing?

  • edited August 2020

    T̸̟̀̈̾̈́̄̆͗͐̀̍͐̈́̇̕h̶̟̙͇̗͖͎̥̳̩̫̭̩̬̭̆ã̶̤̗͕͈̻͕̤͍̺͉́̄̅t̵͚̒̈́̈́ ̸̘̜͙̂̄̽̐͐̑̑͘m̵̛͓̥͕͔͚̒̚å̷̢͇͖̜̖̖̹̗̬̻̥̩͓̱̆͗̅̒ͅn̷̬̱̖͕̗͉̲̦̜̖̳̑̑͂͜ͅ.̸͉̖̣́̿̀̉́́̉̄͛͑̉̅͘.̷͖̭̤̣̖̘̇̀̀̐͗̽̈́̌̅͝͝.̷̨̧̧͍͍̼͕̝̲̼̘͕̫̫͆̉̀̎́̅͗̇͘̚͝͝ͅ ̷̨̛̙͑͒̊͊̎̂̿̒͗͋̂̐͠͝Ḩ̶̨̢̛͉̗̟̰̼͉͛̏̔̒͋̓͌͂̄́̃̇̔̍͜A̷͍̰̫͉̭̖̿ ̷̳̆̃̓͆̓̈̉́͌̌͝Ḩ̶̻̫̜̘̦͚͓̟̻̦̦̰̮̯̇͗̌̇́Ȧ̷̛̳̜̗͓͂͒͆̐́͊̆̃̇̑͝ͅͅ.̸̬̖́̓̾̐̒͑͊̒͊̕͠.̴̧̳̼̠̩̝̣̺̲̈̀̍̏͘͜͜͝͝.̷̥̹́̆̆͐̍̑͂̃̐̆̊̇̚͝͝

    ̷͖̈̔͛̋̃̈́̈́̓̀̃̋̚͠T̴̨̙̫̼̮̜̣͊̎͗̇͂̂͗̂̍͛͠h̴͇̥̹̠̱̖̱͍̮͇̠͑̀̔̿͛́̐̿̏̃̈͘e̷̦͈̎̌̓̒ ̴̙̞͔͇̌̈́̾̀̉͆͑́̚͝ǫ̴̺̥͉̗͚̝̮̮̈́n̴̛̫̭͎̙̯̐̉̈́̉͐̑̾̕ȩ̷̟͓̯̱̥̓̐͒͗́̒͐͛͌̄͑̒͒̇ ̷̛̘̫̲̞̮̻̹̤̫̯͈̳̼̔͗͒̏͆̚͝ͅw̶̧̧̛͓̦̼̩̖̔̾͊́̔̆̈́͑̈́͌͝ḩ̴̢̡̜̗̰͎͓̓͑͒̐̓̍͐̋̂͊ö̴̜̪͈̞͖̲̙̘͉͠ͅ ̸̧̣̥̞̥͎̞̍͝l̷̘͇͖̼̝̲͎̄͑̽͐̾e̷͙͚̠̦̞̮̙̰̿̈́f̶̟͙̣̩̹̺̞̮͈̣͕̜͆̔̓̒̃̍̄̉̆̚̚͝t̶̛̲̎́̒͐̍͐̀̈́̄̈̈́ ̵̭̹͔̍̑̆̏u̷̡͙̫͚̙̲̠̫̬̰̒̊͜ͅs̴̼͔̟̠̻͉̜̐̋͒͒̈́̎̏̀̈́͊ ̶̧̧̹̲͕̬̖͚̱͉̰͔̜̀̊̒̌́͗͊͋͊͘w̴̢̖̫̳͕͉̥̫̣̟̔̌̃̇͗̒̅̌̕i̵̡̲̫̘̜̮̯͖̞͙̦̔̓͆t̶͚̼̿̓͑h̷̡̢̞̻̪̳̬̣̐͂̈́͑̅̀̅ỏ̵̧̩̗͔̍͂͋̑̇̎̚ừ̷̡̛̛̼̮̦̭̝̯̻̺̻̝͇̃̀̀̓͜t̸̛̲̣͇̦̤̯̠͓̖̍͗̄̈̆̉̔̏̀̕͜ ̴̩̒́̋́̾̓̚a̵̻͙̪͇͋͆ ̵̹̻͍̫̽̋͐̒̊͗̌͆͘͜͝w̸̦͓̺̥̺̩͚̭͙̦͈̮͕̹̭̏̓͛͋̉̂͑͘̚̚ô̵͈̰͕͓̹̳̬͕͈̱̼̬̽̔̿̐̆́r̶̢̢̡͎̘̙̼̘̳̟̗̟̯̄͑̎̒̓͌̈̿͝͝ͅd̸̢̛͔͈͚̹̅͂̑̍̓̈̋͒͑͋͛̐̓͠.̶̨̢̫͕͇̱͓͔̮̜̞̱̉̐̾͌͘͝͝ͅ.̴̤̖̭̖̆̓̿͛̒̇̕͝͝.̵̭̰̠̹̰͙͕͒͒̈̒̒͛̍́͗̈́̈́͂̚͝͝

    ̵̢̝̜̱̯̺̖̲͕̺̥͎̪͒͒ͅḢ̸̩̼͙̱͇͗̓͋͊̍͆͋̃̎̐͌͌̈́͝ì̶̳̋̈́̌̏̌̊̾͂̄͑̅s̷̨̨̼̫̻̲̗͎̊̄̎̆͐́̂͘͘͝ ̷͍̠̗̭̯̞̣̓͗̎͂͜ͅs̴̨̝̣̮̉̏̂͊̐͗̊̓́̄̈́͘o̷̟͔̳͍͓̼̫̗̝̤̘̱̳̎̌͒͑̋̀̆͐̌͜͝ͅu̵͍͚̭͍͋̍̇̿̈́͂ļ̶̠̙̝͎̠̯̟̗͎̻̖̔͐̎̔̀̄̀̑̔̒͜.̸̨̩̼̲̞̭̬͔̪̝̬̖̟̇́́̀̔̐̐́̽̍̍͂̽̚͠.̵̢̨̛̯͖͔̺̼͚̞͎͕͖͉͔̦̒̈̋͛̀̀́͌̀̏̒͆̕͝.̷̨̭͇̮̰̜̞͒͑̎̿͐̾͗͋̀̚ ̷̳̗͖̻̗̣̘͉̻͍͐̅͒́̉̀ͅḨ̴̢̨̧̳̱̤͙̻̞͔̇́̾͛͑̕͝A̵̡̨̢̺̬̘̱̖̘̼̲̰̹̅̊͜ ̷̨͎̫̮̥͑̆̈́͂̄͒̽͆́̀͠H̴͎̖̞̬̘̦̳͔̍͑Â̶̡̺̝͔̝͖͇̊̍̒͑͂͆͒́̀̔̚͝ ̶͈͊̈́̊͑͒́̃̉̍͗H̷͍͕̃̄͂Ä̶̧̛̮̞͕̳̝̭̤̙͚̙͎́̑́͐͑̽͠.̵̞͍̇̽̃̑̈̓͗̕̚̕͠.̵͙̅͋͜͜.̴̢̢͍̺̙͔̯̗̭͚̰̥͔̞̏̅̃̈́̅̋̕

    ̸̨̛̱̞͈̗͖͔͓̠̉̉̾̓I̷̩͇̮̲͆̃͗̎̈́̿̆́͋̏̊̌̊̚͝t̵͈̬̱̲̼̺̥̰̹̯̗̯̏̒ ̴̺͇̥̩͈̔͆̄̍̓̓͑w̴̡͗͆̿̔̂̍́͘͘͝ą̵̹̺̞͍͕̝̉̀̓ͅs̶̻̩̙͕͖͈͎̥̥͊̿̋̈́̓̊̏̕͠ ̸̣̱̼͕̯̱̈́̑̿̓̂̒̐͛̈͘ͅc̶̨̡͍̹͚̣̹̫̤͇̩͎͓͐͜o̶̡̨̤̭̦̞̮̦͚͍̍̎̊͐ͅn̶̝͚̠̞̂ͅs̵̳͔̤̗͉͔̣̉̏̑̿͐͆ͅũ̸͎̟͔̝̰̝̦͇͓̗̮̤͕͜͜m̵̜̹̦̙͖͓̾̀̓̋͑̈é̴͚̩̫́̎̔d̵̳̯̝̳͎̳̝̹̰̯͋̑̌̾͊̉̒̍͠.̴̧̮̦̝̫̜̼̒͋̍̀̄́͛̓̈̀̒́̀͝

    ̷̛̛̮̬̝̈́̈́͒̑̓͋̈́̂͊̈́̇̆B̷̫̳͔͆̃ͅy̸̭̣̩͙̓̉̋̔̽͒̾͌͋͊ͅ ̷̤̝͈͍̠̣͎͚̮̓͊͆́̈̒̀͗͘̕ͅả̶̡͎̖͔͓̻͚͇͇͓̺͇̀ ̷̤̬̈́͒͐͗̊̀̐̀̆͋͒͐͝͠͠d̴̢̖͖͕̤͊̀̃̀̒͒͗́e̷̡̧̮͍̬͙̘͉̝̳̩̞̬͐̾̿̀̈́͘͜n̶͚̭͔̠̮͈̳̳͒͜i̸̫̼̗̦̝̥̒͊̐̏̽̿̿̈́͘z̴̡̝̣̻̝̲͓̟̬̝̰̿̂͑̋͠ę̸̢̰̹͎̳͎̜̘͙̖̬̫̍͒̃̊̊̽̾́́͋͐̑́̚̚n̵̲̪̺̜͕͕͉̩̲͋̇̃̐̚͜͜͜.̷̯̳̮͖͇̦̯̰͙͆̈́.̴̡̨̛̛͉̻͕̮͚̬̫͉̬͂̋̔̅̉ͅ.̵̫̝͙̼̯̱͚̮́̇̄̈́̃̒̚

    ̴͙̯̺̯̻̞̫̱͍̳̳̱̺͂̒̔̋̒̈́̾̑́Ơ̴̢̢̨̱̗͕͖̬̙̭͉͕̭̏́́̋̈́̋̑̀͛̚͝f̴̢̛̺̯͓̯͓̾̓͌̽͆̀͗͌̿̏́͑͝ ̵̮͖͇͓̻͚̯͈̠́̽̆̏̅̌̈́̊w̶̢̻͇̹̻̖̥̥̞̪͔͂̈́̈̎̔̃̆̈͝h̸̢͙͓̘̯̪̼̮͖̺͌̆̎̄̚͘͠ḛ̶̡͓͉̗̩̝̖̯̲͕̎̈̅̓͆͑̈́́̎̓͒̒̏̉ͅr̸̰̝̙̺̦̲̓̓͌̈̈́̇̓̔̇́̈́͗̽̚e̶̡̨͚̫̦̰͇̯̤͉̖̝̦̞̍̐̂̄̃͑̐́̀̌́ ̶͈̊͛̒͌̈̓̾͐͊I̶̡̢̧̢̲̱̝̼͎̳̳̯̦͖̍͜ ̸̧͎͍̹̲͖̞̠͍̥̍̽̐̌̅͆̓̑͐͗͌̚c̵̯̼̽͂͗̈́̌́̇̂̆̓́͐̀͝ǫ̸̧̪̬̗̪̼̙̣̳͎̀ḿ̸͚͙̠̆̈́͋̂ȩ̶͉̹̳̞͕̱̞̍̓̿̇̃̿̈̽͑̓͝ ̷̛͉͎̪̈́͂̒̐̇͒͒ͅf̷̢̧̢̨̰͖̯̳̫̥̝̭͛̕̚͘͝r̶̢͍͓͇͇͈͈͂̆̔̀̓͊̔̆o̴̧̡͓̜͉̺̻̹̹̙̲̻̬̠͒̕ͅm̶͍͔̓̄:̵̡͎̬͉̻̊̒̎̕

    ̶̟͓̤͔̖̖͍͇̜̜͙̭͆̉͗̓͜Ā̴̱͎̥̣̬͌̏͠͝͠͝ǹ̵̳͔̗̰̓̚͜͝͠ ̶̝̜̘̬̱̹̥̖̬̰̐̔̑̆͒͆̈̑̂̚̚͜͝Ą̷͖͎̗̦̪̼̼̍͛͗̏̓̃̌͆̏̈͝͝͝r̸̫͓̂͋̀͝k̴̡̛̳͖̫̼̊̏̌͊̈̍̆̓̾͠͝ȁ̶̢̡̧͉̩͚̌̈́̏̿͋͘n̵͇̹̭̠͇̻̞̭̺̙̤͖̈̅͑̐̾͂̕.̷̛̣̖̭̘̦̰̮̱͊̀̎̑̐͗̊͜

    Wait… Niran dawned on the realization. No no no no NO! What have YOU done! He didn’t deserve anything! Why are you DOING this?!

    O̸̘̱̤̊̾̂̏̑̀́̚h̶̫̥̰̹̜̹̯̖͚̠̳͂̈́͗͆̽͆̋̚͜͝,̴̥̙͈̭̩͕͇̫̅͗̽̅͋̑̎͝ͅ ̵̛̣̣̱̮͙͓̽̾̽̑͛̈́̿́̆̚̚͠ͅͅͅṄ̶̝̫̥̳̱̜̥̟̳̻͕̈́i̴̞͎̦͛̀̀̔̀̅̅̇͒͒̽ͅr̶̨̬̠̘̻͇̘̘̭͍̱̤̞͎͙̐̂͐̾͑͒͒́̉̅͐̚͝͝ȃ̴̡̧̡̨̢̳͚̺̗̳̝͇͌̇̈́̚ͅͅn̴͕͕̩̜̙̠̲̖͇̠̦̻̦̑̓̀͊̃̿.̵̠̤̑̕.̷̧̧̡̭̻̠̮͉̙̫̖̫̩̼̔.̵̡͖̺̘̏̍́͊͂́͌͂̀͌̈̉͊̉

    ̴̢͖̮͔̞͈̯̫̝̬̳̥̳̍̿̌̂͆̋̄͐̾̀͋̓͝͝Y̶̧̡͎̩̠̮̩̙͕̙̣̞̖͎̼̌̓͝o̴̢̪͙͎̺̤̝͙̫̅͂̄̈ͅủ̵͙̞̹̘͈̜̖͖̬̹̪͍͜͜ ̵̫̭̘̲͎̗̟͚͌͐̒͛͗̆̒̈́s̷̢̤̺̞͈̻̙̝̦͓͖̗̜̓͆̈̑̎̏̔̆͛̒̅̽̚͜͝ẘ̶̡̛̳͈͖̳̻̩̤̠͓̥̗̥̮̺͐̍̉̐̾͑̒̓́͂̃͋͂e̷̘̙̋͛͌͆̽̌̍̆́̃̎͒̋͗e̵̼͖̅͋͆͗̓̃̈́͋͌́͊͝͝͝t̸̨̧̡̛̥̼̬͓̗̫͇̋͑̀̋̎͜ͅ,̵̢̳̭̹̹͂̇̆̀̾͋̒̑̕͘͠͝ ̷̗͚͖̩̼̜̮͎͓̥̓̐̌͑̔͜ͅf̷̧̨̨͈̥͚̫͈̣̥̞͈͇̮̎̓̋̔̆̏̎̂̔̒͌͠͝ͅơ̵͕͇̩͇͎̰̺̎͂́̄́̑ő̶̭̱͈̟͓͚͎̼̳̬͔̟̌͒̇̐͠ļ̴̪̭͖̼̞̞̐͂̌̀̐̓̇̽̐̀̃͂̕̕i̷̺̘͚̲̪̼̱͎͚͍̥͕͓̟͂̈́̓͑́̒s̶̞̤̰̦̬̼͓̺̦̼̔̑̓͆͗̀̇̀̍̅̽̆̈̅̇ḫ̶̨̡͎̲̼̱̺͙̺͒͒̐̃͋̉̔̕͝͝ ̵̡̫̺̗̪̻̣̟̱̑́͋̐̎͆̀̃̓̕ͅc̸̢̡͕̙̗͔̮̜͙͔̞͚̩̘̏̋̅͑̍̿̔̊̏̽͗̊ḧ̶̖́͒̇̋͊̈́̒̏̂̏̓̚͠͝ī̴̧̻̓̾̆͌͊̋̈́͠l̵̬̃̀̔̒̂̾͂̚d̶̨̞̗̝̞̰̭͇̖̠̮̙̝̜̎̂͂͂̆̈̊̃͘͝.̷͔̬͉̈́̓͊̓̒̅̈̕̚͠

    ̸̛̥̭͎̠̈́̾̑͌̌̾̽͛͑̉͠͝͠Í̸̢̩̋̓̈́̅̐ţ̴̹͕͈̭̯̺̾̈́͂͛͗͐̀̂̆͒͂͗̋̕̚͜ͅ ̶̨̼̙̥͙̪̱̮̳̃̑̀͌̐̂̄͗̕͠w̷͕̮̪̞͊̿̂̒̎͊̈͛̎̕̚͠͠͝a̵̧̧̞̬̕s̷̠͉͈̖͑̽͋͒̈́̕͘ ̷̛͈̭̳̠̭̖͔̍̈́̊͐͗̉͗͜n̵̺̘̘͈̜̲͍̼͓̬͊̈́̑̚͝͝o̴̧̭̟͉̯̮̪̊͘͘t̸̙͎͐͗̎͆̒ ̵̨̨̢̭̥̣̲͉̱̣̯̳̰̪̊͒̈́̽̓̓͝Ḯ̶̧̜̞̮̖̥̙̳̝͛̉͆͐̍͌̀̈́̋̄͜͝ ̸̧̡̮̯̬̱̹̖̒͗̎̉̔̈́͗̈̒̐̂̇͜͠w̷̘̲̪̫̺̞͈̼̜̘͈̞͙̪̏̈͗̍͝h̷͆͐̎̑̚̕͜͝ợ̴̺͒̉̈͗̕͘ ̵̭̲͚̀͜š̸̢̫̜ư̸̛̥̭͓͓̗͇͚͖̑́̈́̆̒̕͝m̴̯͙̹̗̑̎̎̀̈́̓̆̄̈́͒̅̓̈́͂m̵̧̡͖̻̘̳̥͎̟̙̜̙̳̭̈̌̃͋ơ̷͎̳̐̎̾͆̉͆̆̍̿̕͝͝͝n̸̢̳͇̠͇͂̀́̒̕͠e̵̻̾͆d̷̗̖͔̹̱̜͍̐̌̀̽͆͑̆̄ ̷̮̊̀̃͒̓̀̒̒̒̽ţ̷̧͈͚͉̖̤̭̘͔͎̰̟̦̮̐̌̊́̏͗͂̃ḩ̸͙̹̜̲̫̩͍͓̫͎̼͂͂̍̓́̀̿̄͆͝ͅë̸̢̻̼̩̙̘́̇̓̂̈́͂̒̃̈́̽̑͜͠m̴̛͍̠̝̔̄̽̾͆̕.̵̨͇͍͔̯͇͕̲̌̒̓͛͒̆̏͂̓̀͑͌͌͜.̶̪͕̯͓̝͂͐̈́̽̈́̽̆̈́̈̓.̴̡̙̭̙̠̬͔̝̞̗̹̙̅̽̔̾͌̾̓͘

    ̴͇̣̤̼͉̗͚̐́̓̈́̇́̐̀I̸̪̪̰͖̥̲̻̣̭̊̄͒́̆̒̑̾͆͊̄͆͝ẗ̵̨̛̥̰̱͍͉̖͔͓͈̼̆̅͆̓͐͒͘ ̸̧̢̢͙̝̜̫̮̠͓͍̭̆̕͝ͅw̷͓̦͔̪̘̬̫̄̓̑̓̚͝ͅa̸͈̟̦̒̋́͌̇͐̈̃͋̚͘͘s̴̲̬̦̞̖̟̻͇͖̮̣̮͂͜ ̴̯̥̥̠͑̌͒͛͑̋̊͂ş̴̧̨̜̲̳̽́̑̊̓̋͊̊̌͘͜ö̵̠̬̱̩͔̲̱̏͛̍̚͘m̵̨̤̫͎̰̖̠͕̪̖̲̭̱̏̽̆̈̕e̷̛͚̖̟̙̞̙̟̬̣̖̎͐͆̍̆̌͂̀͘̚ȯ̵̧͍̭̹̬͉̙̻̩̯̮͉͇̒̓̔̋̾̽̉̀͌́̕͝͠͝ņ̵̰̰͔̟͖̩͕͔͛̄̑͂̒͌͘̕͜é̸̘̤͎̹̪̖͈͕̮̣̳̥̮͖̋̔̂̏͌̐̓͛̕ ̸̻͉̥̭͚͈̖̬͍̥̤̬͙͎̄͆̔͋͆̋̉̽̕̕͝͝e̶̛̘̩͚̅͐̇͑̔̑̉̒̆̑l̸̯̖̱̝͚̮̠͕̞̫̓́̍̓̈́̑́̕͝͠ͅs̵̢̥̫̲̒̋̂̅͆̉͒̑̽͑̄̑̈́́͜ê̴̛͙̬̬̱͓̮̾̃̄̋͘.̴̨̳͖̝͓̠͐̏

    ̸̧̻̖̝͉͆̓̊̊̚Y̸̞̗͍̮͍̱̦̯͍̩͆̿̾̑̓͝o̷̗̩͔̤̞͈͉̬̼̔̌͆̎̄͑̌̈́̔̔̐͋͝u̶̢̮̩̩̺̖̬͍̳̺̼̦͈̘͂͌̈́̎̿̋̊͜͝ ̶̛̥͖̙̟̤͖̫̤͔̍̆͑͋̐͊͗͛̕͠à̸̼̘̤͍̻̓̈́̓̌͌̐̀͊͒͛̏̕͝r̸͎͐̈́̓̆̍́͊̂̓ḛ̵̼͕̹̪̫̰̫̖̬͕̦́͋̒͜͜͜ ̵̧͗̃̈̓͊̉̋͂̓̽͒͐̋͠s̵̻̺̘̼̈́̆̃̉͆̈́̕͜͠ì̵̡̢͖̩̞̞̩͓͕̒̅͊͒͊͐͒̓̊̕̕͜m̴̛͈͎͓̻̪̯̝̲̱̑̾̑̎́̀̆̃̆̈́̈́͠p̵̢̭̩͍̱͕̟̽̓l̸̘͈̞̲̬̼̪͉͙̘̼̎͊̓̅͒̿̓̓̌̐͑͋̎̌y̸͔̳̞̹̤͙̖̔̋͛̏͑̏̐̕͝ ̴̺͑͋͂́̑͗̽̏̈͘͘͝ṉ̴͉̥̺̯͇̯͙̟̫͕̪̜̠̱̋̉̇͆̈̋͂̂̅̓͛͒̈́͝ǭ̷̤̠͍͓̌͒̈́t̴͙̩̳̬͖̹̹̿̄̀̌͒̃̂͋͐̔͛͜͜͠͠ ̷̢̢̮̱̝͉͓̱͇͈͖̗̞̕r̵̡̠͔͖̥͖̹̹͈̯̩͍̭͛̆̓̾̔̋̑̑̐́͘͜͜ḙ̴͖̰̲͎͒̍̆̽̂͐́̅̓̍̋̀̀͗a̴͖̺̯͙̜͓̗̔́͐̓̐̕̚͜͜͝d̴̡̢̠̃͜͜y̴̛̺̔͂͊̂͗̀͒̔͋͑͌̅̊͝ ̵̧̢͇̤̘͖̙͚̺͗͗̄͗͑̏͗͒̏͐́̕͠͝f̸̯̓̀̄̉̿͘o̸͖̯͎̦̠̼̮̖̘̟͕̹̍͌̈́̏͌̃́͆̑r̷̻̣͓̲̠̮̝̞̻͉͇͑ͅ ̵̖̦͇̉͂̋̾͒͒ḭ̸̪̣̺̭̩͇̥̄̆̈́̑͌͠t̴̛͓̼͇͔͖͍̹̟̩̪͇̲͑̿̅͐̀̅́̍̇̚̕.̴̖̪͓͍͠

    What do you mean I’m not ready? Ready for what?

    Y̶̛͎̗̞͕̪͇̥̾̐͊̌̄́̕͜͠ò̷͈̔̀̌͝ư̴̻͚̹̌͑̇̆̑̆͒̈́̾̔̀͑̈̅ ̶̡̭͍̮̹̳̜̰̻͎͎̏̎͜w̸̡̨̛̛̲͇̭̺̥̦͇̤͈͔̥̦̆͂̿̄̾̀̐͝͠͝͠͠i̸͓̓̓̈́̌ļ̴̙̰͚͔͚̦͔̝̱̣͎͗̍̔͒̌̚l̵̢̯̮̖͓̭͈͎͍̙̉̀͆͐̂͋̀͝ ̵̥̦̲͖̘̠̫͕̜̬̗̣̆͊̈́͂̇͆͝k̸̡̪͉͍̖̮̩͕̰͛̀͆͋̅͌̏͗̋n̵̩͈͈̪̱̭̤̞͊̒̍̄̀̂̿̿̏̉̐̀̚͝͠ỏ̸̡̧̻̻̹̝̠̰͓͕͈͎̥̈͊̄̑ẅ̸̯͈̞́̓͑̔̾͘͠͝ ̷̨̱̯͓̩̪̰̦̻͉́͒̒̚̕ì̴̫̪̮͗̿́͑̈̀̕͝n̶̯͉͚͆̂ ̶̛̝͖͉̙̥̻͉̟̟̟͎̃͛̓̈́́̓̄̊̋ͅd̴͖̰̎̇̑̍̍̎͑̇̒̽̔͛̚͜͝͠u̴̳͉̭̩̣̽̔̿͒̃̿̈́̕̚̕͝͝e̴̢̖͖̘̹̥͚̭͐͛͗̆̔̍̊̓̀̔̔̏̂̓̕ ̷̡̧̪͖͖̪̯͔̻̹̉́́̽̕t̷̡͕̫͎͕̦̟̟͉̲̙̾̽͗̓̓̐̽̑̊̌̏͗̇̕͜͜í̵̼̗̼̆͊̐̈́͊̏͒͑̅̓̓̄m̶̧̙̞̻̹̞̠͔̲͉̄͊̇ḛ̸̖̯͕̲̬̤̦͇͖̳̀͆͒̈̿̓̽̽͋͐̆͘̕͘.̸͖͐̊̓́̋͊̊́̈́̓̀̋͜͝.̷̛͓̹͈̖͒̽̊͑͊͑̍͌̍́̕͝.̷̧̡̛̝͈̤̞̥̫̥̖͓̾̈́̃̒̃̍͌͋̒̚͘͝

    ̸̺̮̱͙̺̣̻̩̜̓̂F̵̡̡̗̜͔̫̯͈͖͈̂̾͑̾̊̈̉́̿͂̓͠ơ̶̧̼̼͈̗̙̖̝̬̗̝̈́͊̓́͛̃͜r̴̛̰̲̫̩̞͆́͌̈́͘ ̴̡̨̢̟̲̲̬͖̩͔̺̮͌͑̂̊͌̾̽̽͆͑̃͜͜͜͝͝n̶͓͖̥̪̩͍̙̳̣͙̫̞̽̀̔͆̌͂̅͌̒̕͠o̸̢̨̮͔̩̗̙̻̫͊̓̃̍͑̌̾͗̿͊̈́́̈̚͜w̸̨̞̤͍͔̺̞̦̠̦̗̱̯̘̏̎̾̏́͗̽̔́́̆͆͛͜.̶̧̻͙̥̳̻͖̖͍̣̝̖̗̳̄̈́̕͘ͅ.̴̨̪̬̦̖͕͎̰̻͈̙̯̿̆͜͠.̷͔͕͖͕̮̞͗̊͛͋͒͝

    ̷̖͚̖̥̈͌̑́̆̂̍̕Y̸̡̘̩͙͇̲̯͚̥̘̘̓̽͐̌̔̃͜͜o̴̫̤̭̳̹̩͎͖̘͑͂̋̓͌͠ͅų̷̢̛̰͕̜͉̣̤͇̃̾̄̔͋̔̅̊̏͆̆̍̕͠ ̸̨̮̼̲͙̍́̈́̊̒̿͋͆ͅs̸̢̥͙̘̜͚̘̘͒̕ḩ̵̨̪͊ó̴̯̤̬̬u̶̡̠̖̮͈̘͙̯͍̥̱̽̐̈́̈́̄͝l̴̜̺̠̦̭̩̻͇͓̠̺̂̌̊̓̓́̓̍̕̚d̷̢̘͈̝̙̜͔̙̫̩͔͕̊̈́̾͊̚͘ ̵̧̺͙͎̬̯̼̫͈̩͙̯̋̒͑̌͌͂̉̃̊̀̀̍́̄͝n̵̢̢̡̛͚̦͉̜̼̮̬̲̜̏̿̾͛̏̍̌̇̋́͠͝ŏ̴̧̳̯͖̣͎̖̼̳̮̤̟͉ͅţ̵̧̯̗̖͈̱̺͕̱̟̝̋̌ͅ ̸̨̣͎̬̘̰̤̤̣͍̼̜̯̾̔͆̿̕l̷̨̛͍͎̫̰̤͚̙͂̉̾̋̋̚͜ę̵̗̤̩͍̳̦̃̕á̵̧̰̗̳̱̝͓̞̖͉̯̀̾͗̈́̏̒͛͠v̴̱̳̼͇̅́̑͂̊̋͋̚͠͠ͅe̷̖̩̘͑̏͐͊ ̷̢̢̫͙̞̻͙̬͖̯̻͓̦́̃͠ÿ̵̪́̓̐̽̑͝ő̶̧̦͖͔̳̜̃̊͑̇͜͝ͅͅû̴͈̥͍̼̈́͊̈́͆͒́̔̚͜͜r̷̨̢̢̟͇̫̟͔̘̥͎̺̍̈̈́͛̃̎̌̊́͘̚ͅ ̷͖͕̙̮̥̳̣̻̘͕̦̕͜"̸̥̩͎̞̳̣̯̝͌̂͛̌̀ḟ̶̧̛̟̯͎̞̯̈́̒͛̒r̸̯͇̲̟̿̍̃͗͒̏͑́̒͌̈͂̉͠͝i̵̠̒̍̔̈̇̆̋̇̑͛́́̂̚̚e̵͖̳̠̦̮͓̱̔̏̅̎̒̀́̀̇̊͝n̵̳͉̟̈́̾̏̎̈̈́͗̆͘͠d̵̢̡̢̨̙̪̱͔̪̪͈̮͕̿̾̐͊́̐̂̾̿̓̚͘s̸̺̽̓̎"̷̳͇̮̟͖̘̩͚̄̔̀̿͂͘ ̸̢̣̩̞̳̤̪͉͔̽̎͗̓̆̕͜w̷̧̩̜͓̰̦̮͌̈́͆̄́̍̾̉͝a̴̩͚͚͇͆̑̉ī̷͉̲̼̺̎̏͌͋̑̽̏͒̑̀́̕͜͝͠ţ̷̟͇̬̹͕̳̳̊͒̒̍͐̅̈́̈͋͘͝͠i̵̡̧̟̝̪͈̾̃͐̂̈́̈́́͛̿͛̀͊̕͝n̶̢̤̗̟̲̰̄ģ̸̧̻͖̲̫̻̿ ̵͇̲̺̟̻͓͙̩͖̐͆̐̾̊̈́̆f̵̭͙̼̰͎̠͖̣͔͝o̷͉̞̗̳̔ŕ̵̗͖͉̖͖̞̖̼̣͉͈̩̩̈́̌͜ͅ ̴̫̯͈̤͎̤̿͋̀̒̇̇̋̒̅̽̾͆͌̕y̵͈̳̱͎̖̞̱̠͈͖̼̖̩͎͍͊̾̓̇̏̒͠͝ọ̶̢̦̥͕̲̯̩͇̜̰̋̀̆͗̈̒͋u̷̜̣̯͕̼̓̓̾̑̈́̓͂͌͝ͅ.̴̞͖̯͓̘̰͓͐͒̈́̎̔̎̆͊̈́̎̌̐̊̕

    ̸̨͈͔̪̺̗̖̤̮̿̽͗̊͛̈́͑̓̈́̆͘Į̷̨̢̢̣̩̣̗͎̩̝͕̘̫̅̾̑͜͠ẗ̵̰̝͔̤̰̰͉͚̫̝͑̿̈́̈́̀͂̌̋͘ ̶̼̻̳͂͋̃̚ͅĭ̴̡̢̧͈̞͚̯̗͙͙̼̖͕̗̈́̊̀̌͋̏̀̂̋̈̀̾͜͝͝s̷̯̬̯̏͆̾̈́̂̓̾͗͠ ̵̥̎͂̋̊͂̈́̾̎͝ŗ̸͉͙̀̓̓̓͆͂̏à̷̛̖̣͆͐̀̀̌̏́͒͝ṱ̷̭̞͈̭̞̪̝̜̭̮͊͊͜͠ḩ̷̧̡͉̰̹͚̳̳̞̩̣̻͉̽̉̇̐́̐͋͊̑̍͊̇̋͘ẹ̸̘̩͔̖̎͌̈͌̿̋́͊͐̈̈́̀̕̚ŗ̵̳̱̑́́͒̑̐̉̐ ̵̩͓̪̥͉́̇̇r̴͔̖̘̼̲͝ǔ̷̧̢̳͍͖͙̣͈̰̗̽̾͠͝ḑ̴̢͉̗̣͔̖̲̼͙̫̹̺̎̾́͊͛̂̓̑̔͒̒̕͝e̷̘̦̞̻͇̤̰̗͚͈̣͒̑̈͗̃̒̊̎͛ͅ.̵̛̮͎͓̟̻̹̗̣̓͋̅̈́̍̈́̕͝.̵̞̭͉̫̿́̑̇̃̏̍̋͂͗̕.̶̨̤̘̦̱̖̯̤͍̒͂͛̎̈́̆̊̑̇

  • edited August 2020

    Niran quickly regained her senses, only to notice that she was slumped against the wall, hazily looking upwards at the rather concerned looking Graagdord and Gorchi.

    “Uhh, you okay?” Gorchi asked worriedly.

    “Yeah, just gimme a sec to get up. How’d the trade go?” Niran drowsily asked.

    “It went wonderfully. Even though Jareph gave a look when we showed him our food, he tried it anyway, and seemed thoroughly pleased! He said it had a ‘lush texture and a delicate taste, with just the right pang of aftertaste to make you crave for more.’ He gave us this bag of money in exchange for a recipe. It certainly helps to know how to write in the tongue commonly used here!” Graagdord replied enthusiastically. Gorchi gave a small “Hey!” at her partner’s comment. Niran gave a small chuckle. She was in the same boat as Gorchi, after all.

    “Why don’t… we go shopping… to celebrate?” Niran asked, growing more and more weary. The two goblins grabbed a hold of Niran and steadied her, making sure she didn’t fall on the floor again.

    “You seem rather tired. We should get some rest. You know where your room is at?” Graagdord inquired.

     “Yeah… I can lead you… to the inn…” Niran replied, slipping even deeper into the unconscious. 

    The three trudged through the streets, carefully avoiding any sketchy alleyways that could be filled with folks looking to exploit such an opportune moment. Eventually they were able to reach the bed chambers Niran was assigned. Without a warning, Niran fell onto her bed and noticed the world fading around her. Slowly, her vision began to darken, until her body drifted to sleep, the two goblins watching over her being the last thing she saw. With the last of her consciousness gone, Graagdord and Gorchi spent the rest of their day quietly and patiently watching over Niran, not causing any form of chaos that day.

    (Okay, maybe they did cause some chaos here and there. But not too much as to stir Niran from her much needed slumber.)

  • edited August 2020
    @Jonteman93 ;

    Jelene couldn't scarcely remember about what just happened. She did remember fighting and kidnapping an angel and almost disintegrated by the said angel in the process. She did remember that her brother followed her back shortly and readied a ritual that involved another sword and the mentioned angel. 

    'There was that glowing magic circle, the soul of the angel that went into the sword, and then I picked the sword....' Thought the ronin while caressing her forehead.

    'It seems that Kuroichi tried to repel the presence of the angelic sword, but with no avail. So I just got the splitting headache and blackened out instead...' 

    "Welp, sorry about that. I forgot to tell ya that it's kind of... detrimental to have both demonic and angelic spirits at once. But you seem to be managed it so, all is good, heh." Explained her brother, with his fingers cupped on his chin.

    "It's a bit... wacky for the first time, but I know that you could endure the process. Also both of the bound spirits seem to be in harmony now." He added.

    "You know, I'm gonna kill you after I get resurrected again if I later died because of this... experimental ritual of yours." Jelene sighed.

    "Heh, good to know that you're still you, Jel." The bearded smuggler only chuckled instead. "Also, that wasn't experimental though. I just following the instruction from a magical tome that was made by a lich or something like that. I forgot where I put the tome but I still remember the ritual about how to putting a soul in an object." He shrugged afterwards.

    "Why you even know... Nevermind then. So I guess it's the same process with how Kuroichi was made." Jelene frowned as she examined her new sword.

    "Probably. More or less. I don't know how did you get that demonic sword of yours though."

    "Well, Kuroichi once belonged to my former mentor... That I assassinated in his sleep before..."

    "... Yea, let's just... You know, maybe you could tone down the needless killings in the future."

    "... You know that I'm just... I'm just a murderer, Jan. And I still couldn't feel anything as I took away those lives." The ronin mellowed out. Her eyes distant despite she was currently looking at her new sword.

    The smuggler just hugged the sitting ronin in response. A lone tear could be seen escaped from one of her eyes. But she didn't answered the emotional hug back.

    "But you also couldn't kill that adopted sister of yours before." The smuggler retorted as he released the hug.

    "... Don't... don't remind me about Rin. I... " Jelene sighed. "Let's just go now." And she stood back up instead.

    "Don't you want to name your new sword?"

    "...Shirohane. Its name is Shirohane."

    "So, white... wings? Feathers?"

    "I glimpsed some of the angel's feathers before as I woke up. But it seems that they were disappeared just as quick."

    "If you say so then. Wanna grab something to eat?" 

    Jelene sighed again. "Let's go, you dolt. I'm in my usual place if you want to know." And just silently walk away with her new sword in hand, and the other on her hip.

    "Right, and to clean this mess..." The smuggler scratched his head again. "Meh, I'll do it later." And followed his sister out from the hideout.

    - || -

  • edited August 2020
    @Jonteman93 (Alright, now she's a dual-swords fighter from now on. This is the new sword of her, and her new-ish look.)

  • (out of character: @MonkeyPirate2002 is using Graagdord and Gorchi with my full permission, in case anyone was curious!)
  • Match 6 - Fight! 
    @Temurzoa vs @IzItTru

    It was just like one of the forests where he had grown up, where his powers were at their strongest, yet he ran. How could he defeat an ooze that devoured all animals that he had used against it. How could he stop it when all stones and boulders he had crushed it with, it just had crawled out from beneath. How could he destroy it when his elementals had been failed to harm it. How could he trap it when it had just crawled up from the holes he made. Kutos had to think of a solution fast, or he would be made too exhausted just to escape the ooze that was surprisingly good at hunting as it could stay hidden in the grass. Kuros soon came to a water stream where he stopped. He could probably jump on the stones but they looked slippery so he would just fall down into the water that poured through in high speed. He could not take the risk, so he ran towards the field in the south. 

    It did not take too long for Squrturglus to find Kutos out in the field. It looked like he meditated while guarded by three huge elementals, they were made of mostly dirt but also grass. The grass that was used for the elementals seems to have been taken from a large area around Kutos, so Squrturglus could not sneak up too close to him. Squrturglus lowered itself into the grass and approached Kutos. 

    Kutos was breathing heavily while he worked with his arms and his mind. Except for the humming sound and the wind, it was quiet. It made it easier for him to focus on his work. He glanced towards the forest and the grass that swayed in the wind except for one place where the grass almost stood still, as if something was crawling beneath. Kutos decided to wait a little longer before he acted. When the ooze had come even closer, Kutos sent forth the first elemental. The ground was shaking for each step the elemental took. The elemental slammed the ground with its fist, causing grass, dirt and slime to fly in all directions. The elemental slammed again and again as it became covered in the green ooze's slime. It did not take long for the ooze to drain the force that moved the elemental, and it to the ground. 

    The humming sound grew louder. The ooze continued its approach. Kutos now sent forth his two other elementals but the result became the same and soon even they fell to the ground. The ooze continued forth, out of the tall grass that had begun to vibrate. Being made of slime, it was something that the ooze did not seem to feel. Just a benefit for Kutos. As the ooze came so close that Kutos could almost reach out his hand and touch it, he lifted his hands. The ground broke to the ooze's left and right side, as two large water elementals broke through. They fell onto both the ooze and Kutos so the ground broke beneath them, and they fell into a underground water-stream that rushed forth in incredible speed. The ooze was washed away by the force of the stream. Kutos was caught by one of his water elementals, that held him up above the stream. 

    Kutos looked around. The ooze was gone. Exhausted as he was, he could finally rest.
    The elemental was just about to put him down on dry ground when he felt something burn in his neck. The burn quickly spread. Kutos quickly turned towards the elemental and saw green bodies of slime flow up through its body and out its arms. To survive, Kutos dismissed the elemental and he fell into the stream and disappeared.
  • Fight fight fight!
  • Match 6 - Winner! 

    Squirtle managed to wash clean, thus it  takes home the fifth match of the tournament and is thus moved to the second stage
    @Temurzoa you may now choose to improve Squirrel-tour' card to a max cmc of 5 or add an additional signature or companion card.
    You may also make changes to your current ones outside of the above. 
    It's going to be interesting see Squirtglass' development in the tournament. 

    Sadly Kutos wanted to survive more than he wanted to win. 
    He was washed ashore later on, alive. 
    This was also one of the closest fights of the tournament and especially of the more difficult to find a solution to. 
    You both had very original character designs, sadly your character was put against the most original of them all. 

    You may now write the aftermath to Kutos' story in the tournament. 
    I also hope you want to stay and continue participating in the tournament, even if by just reading what is happening. 

    Tournament update
    The fight between Niran and Graagdord will take place.

    fi̷g̶h̸t̶ the between Niran and Niran w̷i̶l̴l̴  ̶p̸l̵a̷c̷e̶ on the K̶͉̳͊i̶͇̚s̸̼̏l̷̩͒a̶̧͊ ̴̻̔͜Ḯ̵̘ṡ̶̬͇̿l̶͈̥̇a̴̻̫͑ṋ̴̌̒d̶̘̈́.

    F̷̨̨̻͈̘͎͍̪͍̠͙̹̞̘̮̝̮͖̙̦̗̠̪̻̤̳̞̪͇̉͒̓͋͗̎̄̄̇̄̈̓̓̿̇̅͘͘͝͠͠͝ͅͅi̵̡̡̨̧̛̛̘̮͖̬̭̥̜̩̪̞͕̜͇̩̯̩̣̣̭͔̘͚͇͚̮̿̎́͗̈́̉̏̉͗͊̾͆͗̽͜͠ģ̷̧̰̲͔͍͓̙̘͈̳̦̖̼͈̭̝̺̤̟̻͊̌̅̔̕͜͜ͅh̷̡̨̡̛̛̛̘̥̦͇̤̳̹̥͈͕̼͚͍̟̰͙̼̬̯͖͚̺̳̤̮̖͒̅̑̐͂̏̔̍̓̒͋̕̚͜͝͠͝ͅṯ̴̦͒̽̓̆̅̅̊̑̀̎̊́͗̍̎̚ ̵̛̦͎̬̬̞͆̎̃̾̈́̀̀̊f̴̛͔͈̲̦͖̻͛͑̄̿̉̌͑͊͋͐͛̎ͅì̸̧̨̛̛͕͓̙͈̺͍̳̠̞̦̪͇̣͉̮͈͕̑̄̇̅̈́̈́̿͗̿̐̿̈̊͂͛̀̕̕͘͠͝ͅͅǧ̷̡̢̧̢͖̲̻̠̘͔͓̺̩͔͍̰̦̞͎̩͚̲̎̀̾̐̑͗̈́̂͋̆͊̃̉̒̔͘͝͠h̷̨̧͚̝̟̣̞̹̣͕͉̬͎̬̲͓̩̺̤̼̖̻̼̙̟̥̣͎̯̑̈́̕͜t̵̡̧͓͔͖̠̩̖̺͕̞̳̠̯͎̭̹̰̣̦̣͕̤̑̈̂̀̌͆̅̌͂͗̇̑̾͗̿́͜͝ͅ ̷̛̹̫̤̖̦̲͉̀̃͗̇̽͌̔̎̐͗̉̅͆̆̎͐͌͌͑̓̅͐͐̅̓̈́̄̾f̸̨̡̧̧̥̲̳̯͈̝͈̞͖̞̲͖͇̦̗͎̫̰͉͈̹͍̹̬͚̰͊̾̀͛̔̓̒̀̅̅̇̇̐̌̏͂͜͝͝͠i̵̧̮̘̞̭͔͚̦͖͖̻̟̭̪̲̭͙̱̜͋͛̎̾̽̆̚g̵̩͚͛̈́̕͘̕͠ḣ̵̢̼͓̩͈̤̼̮͇̤̯͔̳̫̯̲͚̘͍̻̦͓̰͂̏͛̐̌͊̎͒͌͝͝t̵̡̛̛͔̖͖̙̘̟̿̆̿͛̀̋̾̀̑̊͆͐̈́̈́̄̋͘̚

    The fight between Niran and Graagdord will take place in the Arena. 

  • @IzItTru it was a pleasure battling Kutos and his elementals. Best of luck wherever he travels next!
  • @Temurzoa Thanks! I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t expect this... Your story bits were pretty fun to read and you totally deserve the win!
  • edited August 2020
    Graagdord watched over Niran as she recovered from whatever had drained her to the point of exhaustion.  Gorchi left the room many times, seemingly out of boredom (but maybe it was anxiety?), and some of the times she returned with supplies (and snacks).

    Graagdord was a trouble-maker, yes, but he was alive today because he has always been underestimated.  The little strategist knew that most people would underestimate his combat skills in the arena.  They would expect Gorchi to sneak up on Niran while Graagdord distracted her.  That wasn't the plan.  They would expect him to fight as he taught the young hero to fight: with confidence.  But that, Graagdord knew, was only how you handle yourself in non-combat situations.  The real intimidation involved in battle comes from knowing your enemy.  But he didn't know this one.  Couldn't know, for some reason. "Maybe I shouldn't know...?" he thought.

    As he watched over Niran for hours, just quietly thinking, he noticed that Gorchi would always leave the room and get uncomfortable whenever she was near Niran's possessions.  Something dark or even abyssal was amongst them, he could tell, but he would dare not find out exactly what.  Niran may be his competitor in the arena, but he could tell that she was probably dealing with forces that even she did not understand. 

    Powerful forces.

    As Niran started to awaken from her slumber, Graagdord said to Gorchi, "Okay, Torchy.  Let's head back to our own room and privately discuss our strategy for dealing with our friend here... I mean when we're in the arena, of course.  Something tells me it's not going to be easy.  And I've really got to tell you, Torchy ...

    ... I've got a bad feeling about this."

    Somewhere, a voice whispered:

    Y̶̘͍͎͍ͦ͊̐ͬ̉̿͌̍ͬͬͬ͑̄e̵͆̓̅͐̒ͧ͑ͥ̉͏̛̼͉͎͓͎̰̰̩͎͉̯̱̫̭̳͘ͅş̶͍̯̖͚̫̣̰̞̣̰̫̣̘̫̺̦̫̪̪̑ͥ̉ͮ̌̀̕̕,̵̨͙̪̺̮̩̘̹̪͙̣͕̬̹̹͓͖̿͐̐͌͂̓͘̕͡ ̨͎͈̳͎̳̣̠͕͕͍̲̥̦͇̩̺̞̝͙͑͊͊͊ͫ͑̑ͯͭ͛͛́ͦͧ̚̚͘ḽ̨̹̠̞̘̙͇̬̮̫͉̪̫̠̖͙̫̩͐̑͆ͭ̓͒͘i̶̷ͭ͛̍ͨ͗̈͂ͭ͌̈͗͋͊̅̾ͦ͗̍҉̨̼̲͖̙͈̖̝͙̲̩̮̻̖͓͙̘͞t̞͔̥̱ͦͣ͆ͥͧͭ̀̽͗ͩ͑̒́̕ṭ̢͔̞͇̳̫̞̬̟̼̹̖̫́͋̈́̊̊͌ͮ̎ͭ͐ͬ̾́̀͘ḻ̵̷͇̙̥̞̬͍͕̊̒̄̎̋ͦͧ̏̇͢͡e̶̢̟̤̻̯̼̘̖̖ͣ̿͌͊ͣ̆̊̇̐͗̐̀̚ ̋̄ͪͣ́ͣ͐͏͝҉͙͖͕͎̜̺̗͚͔͞g̸̡͌͗ͤ͗̽́̌̒̍́̉͋͗͆ͦͧ̆ͮ̚͢͏̞̭͓̣͚͔̝̲̜̙͕̭̤̫̩̜̜͕͞o̾͗͆̀͋̊̔̍̽̇̄̓̍͐͒ͤ͋̀͏͔̪̣͈̠͍͖̬̰̺̥̠̰̟͔̯͔̀̕͜͢ͅb̧̮̘͙̦͚͍̜̤̹̞̲̥̜̤͖͌ͪ̏̚͜ͅl̶̶̸ͦ̿̀ͮ́̊ͨ̒̇ͬͬ͜҉̻͓̰̠̙̪̺̹̗̯ͅi̶̡̹̥̝̗̲̗̬̱̩̻̞͙͕̩̝͔͚̗͐̍̑̃̅̎̏ͭ͜ǹ̛̑̾̅͒̽͛̚҉̻̠͇̦̲̙͓̖.̨̛͖͖̹͔̝̥̫̿̀̌̀̇ͬ̉ͧ̈̊ͫ͗͆̽̈́̔̉͐́̀̚͠ ̶̡̡͚̦͖͕̖̬͇͍͛͊̇ͤ̉̓͐ͪ̌͆͋͑̾ͣ́ ̑̓͑͛͑͒̑̍ͥ́ͯ̓ͧ͗͏҉̷̧̘̜̠͖͉̬̥̭̺̖͓̲̯̤̥̝̩͙ͅŸ̸̵̢̦͇̙̟̥̦͈̲̞̪͔͖̋̿̀̊̌̎͒̐̀́ͅơ̴̧̮̙̙̮̟̯̭̜̙̖ͭ͌͂̔͐̓͂̋͂̏͌͋̚͡͠u̡̇̇̃́̂̄̔͏̶̵̨̮̦̝͔̙͕̻̠͓̯̭ ̛̱̥͙̣̝̝̘̯͕ͣ͋ͭ̃̈́ͭ͡ͅs̸̢̛̘̳̥̬̗̯̥͐̈ͣ̿̊̐͐ͬ͑͛͂͌̀͑̎̐̀͢h̛̖̠͓̪͚͇̦̝̪̻̗͎̭̉̂͛̎̃̑̌̅́͞͡ǫ̧̠͙͔̦̙͕͔̻͎̃̒̉͆͟ͅu̶̴̡̢͓̤̮͙̙̖̺̳̭̘̳͛̾ͩ̈́̀̊̃͆͑ͦ̃ͤ̀l̴̡͓̩̖̻̳̜͎͍̳̪͈̙͚̜̊͗̓͗̅ͥ͒̔ͤ̊ͨ̕͜d̵̝͓̱̻̜̠̠͔̦̪͔͚̫͌͑̽̅̏ͬ̌͗́ͣ̈̈̚̚͜͠.̢̧̫̠̦̥̬̠̮̞̗͖͔͕̥̝̺͓͙̯̹̍ͦ̉͊̾̽͐̒ͦ̓̆̽͟͡͡

    (good luck, @MonkeyPirate2002 !)
  • edited August 2020
    Due to time constraints, I must write match 7 tonight. For you that means in just a couple of hours. I hope this dosen't put stick into cogs for any of you.

    Edit: I have to continue tomorrow morning. 
  • Match 7 - Introduction

    Rain had begun to fall outside. Niran sat on her bed, playing her violin as the it knocked on the door. She put aside the violin and opened the door to see two Vosanovan guards.
    "Yes?" she said.

    "Contender of the tournament, we are here to escort you to the arena. Please step into the coach." 

    Niran looked behind the guards and saw a couch with someone already inside. 

    "Is this really necessary? I could walk to the arena." 

    "That is not an option. We shall escort you and your opponents to the arena. No exceptions."

    Niran knew that there was no idea to argue. Even though she felt that something was wrong, she walked with the guards to the couch and stepped inside.

    "God day Niran. I hope your fight today goes well today." said sir Belisjian who already sat inside the coach. 
    "Guards, let's go and get Graagdord and his companion." 

    "It shall be done."

    The arena was sprawling with life once again as citizens, nobles, guards, gamble dealers and more, gathered to witness the seventh match between Niran and Graagdord. A retractable roof had been extracted over the arena to cover the audience while leaving the ring open for the rain. Nadja and Daniel presented their chosen contenders and respective order, Niran, Graagdord and Gorchi entered the arena. They gathered in the middle of the arena where they bowed to each other and to the audience. General Artiem of Medirna was not present that day but general Mikeul of Gwendolyn was, and he had brought his clairvoyants and some other new people, including a knight that wore a sword of silver. Valierielle stood up on her balcony and approached the fence. She was smiling, almost as if she was enthusiastic for today's fight. She opened her arms.

    "Let the seventh match of the tournament, begin!" 

    The sound of raindrops echoed through the tunnels. Belisjian and the guards led Niran, Graagdord and Gorchi through the entrance tunnel. They were all drenched wet as they had to walk through the rain for some distance. They came to the first center of the dungeon. Rain was falling through a hole in the roof window. Prisoners where cheering and making sounds from the cells that surrounded them. Except for the prisoners, leaning against the pillars was a cloaked person. Belisjian nodded to the figure who nodded back. 

    "Excuse me. Were we not supposed to fight in the arena today?" Niran asked. 

    "Change of plans. Since it is raining they decided to change the arena." 

    The contenders was assigned to stand at different entrances to tunnels that led further into the dungeon. 

    "You already know how this works so I don't need to tell you the rules. If you are ready, we can begin." 

    The contenders nodded. The guards and the cloaked person followed by Belisjian began to leave the room into the entrance tunnel. Before he left the room, Belisjian said.

    "I hereby declare the seventh match of the tournament, started!" 

  • edited August 2020
    Great. I lost the internet connection while I was putting the text into the forum. I don't know when it will be fixed but I'll upload the fight at first possible moment. Thus it might be so that match 7 & 8 are presented back-to-back if it takes too long. This was sent from my phone if anyone wonders. 

  • Oof, that stinks. Do you have a word editor you use to write down your work?
  • Wow!  So ... wait ... was there a glitch in the forum? ... are Niran, Graagdord, and Gorchi in two places at once?  I am INTRIGUED.  Who's in the arena if it's not us?  Why did they take US into the dungeon if so?  I bet they stole Graagdord's recipe for stinky cheese so the concessionists could sell it to the spectators in the stands, so maybe they're just tying up loose ends!  Ahh!  The suspense is killing me!  :wink:
  • @Jonteman93 Great! I’ll finish up Nilani’s last story bit right now then!

  • Nilani had gone to the forest by herself again.

    I know I can’t create large invocations right now, at least, I think I can’t...

    “Let me try creating some protective enchantments first...”

    Nilani created a small golden light shield. Surprisingly, a rock was launched towards Nilani with surprising speed to at her right.

    “What‘s this?” Nilani asked.

    She quickly turned the shield so that it could block the high-speed rock. Then, a figure jumped out of the shadows.

    “Akuma?” Nilani shouted, “Is that you?”

    She raised her shield to block Akuma’s attack.

    “Yeah! I know this might not be the most honorable way to start a fight, but you never know where a rift mage can attack you from! You have to be vigilant at all times!”

    Nilani nodded.

    “So,” Akuma said, “Shall we?”

    Nilani nodded again, this time smiling.

    Wow, I really have a great friend!

    Akuma came in quickly. She had definitely trained hard. She was even faster than before. But before Akuma could land an attack, Nilani’s hands started to glow. A bright golden light blinded the samurai and she missed, instead hitting the ground.

    Then, Nilani compressed the energy for her shield into a tiny ball of light and released it towards Akuma. She quickly parried it and rose back to her feet.

    “That was brilliant!” Akuma said, “But you can’t hide behind a shield all day, or else you’ll just lose like Elos did with his armor.”

    Right. Now’s the time.

    Akuma attacked again speedily. Nilani could see her frustration grow a little as Nilani kept creating new shields to block her attacks.

    Akuma was smiling, and she was tired.

    “Wow. This is exhilarating!” they both exclaimed at the same time.

    Akuma readied her blade again, but Nilani took the first move this time. Nilani waved her hand, pointing at each shield she had. Each of them grew into invocations- golden figures, about the size of Nilani.

    Nilani waved her hand. Two invocations charged at Akuma, while three stayed behind to protect Nilani.

    Akuma slashed at one of them.

    Nilani waved her hand to the right, causing Akuma’s first attacker to go right and dodge the attack, but with Akuma’s swordsmanship, she wasn’t nervous at all. Akuma got between the two invoactaions and made another swift attack, her blade whirling through the air.

    “Huh. Crying Moon,” Nilani muttered to herself, “What a beautiful and fitting name.”

    The blade destroyed one of the invocations, but the other one parried her blade with its hand.

    “Go!” Nilani ordered her other three invocations, “It’s time to play offense.”

    Nilani jumped up, and each invocation jumped with her, of course Nilani stayed in her spot while the invocations advanced forward. She kicked upwards, and the all four remaining invocations copied her move. Akuma barely managed to dodge them. Akuma was running towards Nilani quickly, ready to finish the battle against a vulnerable Nilani, but Nilani had planned for this as well.

    She collapsed one of her invocations into a shield that blocked Akuma’s path. Like normal Akuma used it to jump, but another invocation, which was moving faster than her, followed. Panicked, Akuma spun through the air, dodging Nilani’s attack.

    “Wow! That was impressive! You’ve really worked hard, Akuma, but this time you’re not going to win!”

    Nilani compressed the energy of a new shield into a ball and launched it at high speed to Akuma. Right as it was about to hit Akuma, Nilani dispersed the ball of light.

    “We stop there. After all I don’t want to end up hurting you!”

    Akuma nodded.



    “With that skill, I know you’ll win your match,” Akuma stated, “I believe in you.”

    Nilani smiled. “Thanks. I won’t let you down.”

    I must win...or...or I’m still that young, weak little girl who...can't do anything...I must prove that I'm better than him...I can't let my past haunt me like this forever.
  • edited August 2020
    Match 7 - Fight! (part 1/2)
    @MonkeyPirate2002 vs @TerryTags

    Graagdord and Gorchi where laughing and cheering as they ran around slamming the spirits that Niran had summoned, with their torches and daggers. Niran tried to focus on playing the violin and controlling the spirits but something was calling for her from within the dungeon. Like standing in a flowing river, she was being pulled further down. She decided to give in for the call.  She summoned another pair of spirits and then she followed the tunnel from which the call came. Gorchi noticed that Niran fled. She struck the spirit which approached her with her torch, then she ran after Niran. Graagdord had his back towards Gorchi while he fought another spirit so he did not notice that they had both disappeared. 

    Niran followed the call that pulled her further down the tunnels. It felt so strange yet so familiar. It gave her a cold yet comforting feeling of belonging. Prisoners in the cells, called for her but she did not mind them. Further down she went until she came to an intersection where she had to choose between two paths. The choice was easy as the call came from the left. She did not follow the path immediately as she heard the fast and tiny steps of her pursuing goblin. She played her violin to summon a spirit, then she followed the left tunnel. 

    Gorchi soon came running to the intersection where the spirit stood guard. She cheered as she ran towards it with her torches held high. She slammed the spirit and forced it back. The spirit turned around and fled. Gorchi followed it into the right tunnel.

    The further Niran went, the more silent the prisoners became. Most of them just sat in a corner with their hands over their heads. Those who stood up backed off as they saw Niran approach. Niran walked passed the cells and down the stairs further ahead. The call grew ever stronger. 

    Graagdord had finally realized that both Niran and Gorchi had disappeared. He ran through the tunnel, following the wet footprints from Niran. When he came to the intersection he quickly followed the footprints of Niran without realizing that Gorchi's footprints led the other way.  

    Niran looked at the iron bars as she walked passed the prison cells. They were broken from the outside and the cells themselves were stained red, most likely of blood. "What happened here?" She thought. She got an urge to turn back but she continued to walk forward. The moment to turn back had not yet come, she hoped. She walked past the cells to a spot were blood had been spilled onto the floor. Niran put her hand on the wall. She could feel a coldness tingle her fingers from beside the stones. So she pushed and the stone door opened, revealing a darker than usual hallway and a stair further down. The darkness and the cold crawled into her skin. 

    Maybe it wasn't a good idea to follow the call after all. Yet, she could not shake off the feeling of comfort that it gave her, and a sense of power. She wanted to turn back. She wanted to continue. She stood still, staring into the dark hallway.   

    Ẃ̷͙̈̂͘ḧ̸̛̥̺́͊ẙ̵̹̫̠͖̙̃ ̷͖̮̅̓̆̚͝ͅả̶̲̰̫̠̝̹̓͌͋̍ř̶̨̬̬̭͎̈́̃͌͜͠ȩ̴̺̰͝ ̴͍̱̥͂̈̋́ͅy̶̫͍̲̗̏́͘ͅō̵͖̼͍͉̣͖̈́́̾̀̇u̴̻͎̠̜̻̯͆͆͗̂ ̶̧̡̹̠̗͐̓ȧ̸̞̕͘͜f̶͚̙̦̈́̋̀ṟ̶̦̞̅á̵̼͉ī̴͇͔͙d̸͆ͅ?̵̨̧̱̅̈́̊̔
    ̷̙̖̠͔̠͓̎̇̽̽͑Į̵͈̞̋̍̚͝͝t̷̟̲̼͒̑ ̸̰͕͙̀ì̴̺̝͠ŝ̴̨̬͇͜͜ ̵̬͑͊ͅy̷͚̩͊̌͊̀́̀ò̵͖̿͋͆̒u̷͉̼͋̆̃ͅr̶̢͊̒̋͠ ̴̭͎͉̩̮̾d̵̡̲̻̓́è̸̹͖̱̺͖̙͊̈́s̶̫̝̠̹̏͊̋͌̔͝ţ̴̤̀̂̀į̸̨͓̣̖͇̽̽̊̒͛̅n̸̨̰̜̦̱̅̂̚͝ŷ̴̛̩͗̈́ ̸̰̫͑t̴͍̥̺͐̍h̶̖̯̬̞̄̉̈̓̈́a̴̢̗̪̮̿̀̽́͌̇t̴͙̪̘̖̺̓̄̀̍̓͠ ̷̻̗̳̀̚͝i̶͉͂͊̾̌̔s̶̡̨̥̱̹̐̈́͋̒͘̕ ̴̨̗͖͙̗͈̀͗̈́c̸̢̼̫̼͇͗ͅa̷̟̮̱͊́̔̅̓l̸͈̜̪̝̑̌͜l̴̢̥͚̙̾̈́ͅi̷̙̤̩̙̅̈n̴̛͈̊̆̍̾ḡ̵̢͎̩͇̩̈̋̕͝͠ ̴̮̲͉̻̪̐́͛̋͠f̴͈͙͂̑o̵͓͍͖͓̾̅̉͆͐r̷̥̦͒̏̓̈ ̸̹̠̙̩̘͌̀̉ǘ̸̧͉̻̼͈ͅș̴̛̘̥̠͎̤͆͋͛̿́.̶̡̲̟̄͋̈́͒͌͠
    ̴̙̓͋̃̑A̷̧͙͗́̆͝ͅ ̴̗̟͍͉̀̐̂̊͝p̵̜̘̪̦̠̐͘ó̷͍͇̙͑̍̊̚͜w̶̢̺̙̪̪̬͌e̶̡̟̦̭̩̙̍r̷̜̈́̅ ̵̙̏̿̏͝͝ṫ̴̙̹̙̌̈́̌͒͠h̸͇̹̿͂͗́͐͝â̵͈̠͒̀́̓͜t̵̨̞͉͖̰̖̃̋ ̸̢̙̅͛͠y̵͇̮͓͕̌͌ǒ̴̱͙͚͔̇̅̎̉̉u̸̳͔̲̰͐͋̈́̑̈́͝ ̷̺̲̲̪̬̌͌̀͠ͅc̷̠̼͈͖̖͂̈́͑o̷̳͉̟̽͂͛̊͊̕ŭ̵̪͇͕̱̮̆̇l̵̨̪͕͙̮̩̏̅͆d̵̖̠̘̣͑ ̴̹̩̖͍̫̃͐̾̕ņ̷̱̝̰̭̺͑͑̅ȩ̸̈̊̓͑̈́v̶̞̝̓e̵̢̛͇̭̼̽́̈̆͘r̸̲̈͘ ̵̭̼̞̰̤̥͗̿̈́͝į̸̼͌̍͋͐͝m̴̩͕̰̀͛͊̋͌͘a̴̯̙͕̰̋̋̎g̵͎͔̬̪͑ì̷͉̱̱̆̋͂n̷̥̽͜ề̸̟̉̕͜͝.̷̡͂̋́
    ̴̢̣̱̻͒̓͗̌̕͠I̵̡̠̬̰̺͆̑̂ͅt̴͕̎̓ ̷̛̫̈́͑̐͐c̷͉̩̙͕͇͔͆͝a̷̢̹͔͓̦̺͂̋̋ņ̸͕̙̈́̾̌͆͘͝ ̸̬̊̒b̷̪̝̗͖͈̾̆̍͒͠ę̴̜̱͒ ̷̳̞̄͌̈͑o̷͙̊͌̒̉̾̚ŭ̵̼̝̱̫̩̬̅̌͋̓r̵̗̟̹͇̗͗s̵͉̘̭̒͗̐̑.̶̬̟̞͍̺̺͋̇͝ ̶̻̮̻̪͕̊̏͘͠
    ̴̡̞͉́̎͒͆̕B̸͔͗͐è̸͎̋̕c̸̯͙̿͂͑͊̔̀ö̶̰͕͖̘̣̤́̌̔̾ḿ̷̠̙̠̎͐͌̇ę̴̫̲̮͚̚ ̴̨͖̝́͑͌̂̐a̶̞͜͠͝ ̴̡͕̤̳̦̎̌̒̀̕m̵̻̝̲̮̈́͗͆ő̸̬͠ñ̴͕̪́̋̑̐͝ŝ̸̱͖͓͎t̵̙͌ę̸̨̨̛̭̠̋̌͐͌̅͜r̷̖͔̻͉̂̈́́.̶̧̗̎̽ ̷̢̛̺͊̔͌͋̚ ̷̡̹͇̪͇͛͗̈̅̋̽
    ̸̻̻̱̎B̵̙̫̯͇̊̓e̵̡̢̜͔̱͕̓̍̈c̵̦͎͋̌̉̋ȏ̷̧̙̗̺̊̎̈̆͋ḿ̶̼̃̄̈́̕e̴̖͉̔̃̾͛ ̶̛̲̪̙̹̻̹̾́a̵̝͓̳̜͖̙͌̾͛̀ ̵̢̆̽͋s̸̨͈̻̰̦̄͜͝l̷̤̱̇̐ã̵̡̪̜̹̠̔̐͆͌͘ͅv̴̨̢̘̮͙̌̑̇̽͛é̶͉͔̙.̸̡̞̂
    ̵̧͎͖̠̪͛͒̄̂̂I̶͎̬̖̎͜ṭ̸̰̞̒̓̈̐̇ ̷̞̓͝ì̶̓̇̀͐̔͜s̵̨̠̹̘̮̰̆͛̒͘ ̸̠̪̭̲̆͜c̴̞͉̺͕̥̅ă̶͇̭͜l̷̤̭̖̊͛̆̀l̶̡̘̳̗̺̼͐͑͗̓i̵͓̳̩͔̟̞͐̍͒̄̀n̷̡̻̘̦͈̹̑̀͝g̸͍̫̲͔̪͊͗̆̓͒̀ ̵̢̬̘̘͂̆͊f̵̠̘̦͎͋͒̑̃ǫ̶̊͆͋̐̓̕r̸̮͑̎͝ ̴̤̬̭͈̘͋́u̵͈̪̰̜͎̾̅͜s̶͙̍͑̾̏̚.̵͕͂͊̀ ̶̪̯̞̱͊̎̐͝

    Niran took a deep breath as she felt the pull, heard the call, embraced the cold and dark. She laughed a short laugh. She then walked into the dark hallway and down the stairs. 

    Ḡ̵̨̠͕̼̺̤͍̌͐̎͊̒̈́̀̂ơ̶͍̙̮̗̓͐̋͐́̓͐̌̑o̸͈̐̈̒͑̌̋̐̇͘̚d̵̡͕̠̹̠͓̩̹̙̅̾̋͐͐͛͂̋́͘ ̵̨̨̡̤̟̀͐͒̒͝g̷̛̳̩͓̗̩͚̀̀̅̑̂̒̈́̕͝ì̵̧͇͈͓̂ṙ̷̺̺̝̺̖̑̊̅̈́͐͒̕͠l̷̥̪͉̙̭̲̭̠̈́.̵̛͉̤͔͕͈͔̮̝̭̔̈́͘.̶̨̛̥̘̰̪͚̣̮̥̖̘͖̫̠̩̾͆̐͗̏́̈́̇̄͘

    She went down the stairs, through the hallways and the room with books until she came to the silver door. The magic that protected the door repelled her, repelled her violin. Strong and old magic with one purpose, to keep the door shut. The magic was old and had weakened during the centuries, but still strong enough to keep almost anyone from coming in but maybe not strong enough to keep everything from coming out. The pull of whatever was behind the door was so strong now that Niran almost became hypnotized by it as it fed the darkness within her. 

    C̷̰̠̝̘̓̌̅̃̀̈́͒a̸̖̩̻̦̖̫̒̎l̴̲̟͒̈́̀̆̕͝ͅl̵̨̛̩̻̻͉̺̭̉̋͑̿̈́ ̷̛͕̀̍́̌̾̿̉̚ḟ̶̡̻͕̳̈͑͂͊̽ô̶͖̙͔͑͂̈́r̵̟͛͒͜ ̷̡͍̱͓̫̤̯̲̰͗̉̂̀i̴̼̯̓͆͘ͅţ̵̥̥̗̬̥͒̕ ̴̛̛͔̙̗̖̂̇̿̈́̊͘̚͝a̷̡̦̖̖̯͎͊͆́́̋̉̈́͂͠ś̷͍̞̻̻̾̐̎ ̴̫̦̹̈̉͐̋͘i̵̘̪͇̘̭͌͒̾̐̈͝ͅt̷̬͉̰̥̟̯͔̥̟̮̂̓̂̔́̄̓͂̊͝ ̷̢̛̰̝̞̠͍̭̠̱̪̽̅̔́͐̉̎͘͘ḭ̶̗̽́̓͆̉̀̓̃̅s̴̞̺̤͈̻̤̗̒̎̽̈̔̑͗̃͠͝ ̵̨̛͔̆̈́̓̿͜͜ç̷̳̞̤͚͈̙̭̻̃̒ͅá̴̛͈̗̲̌̓͌͋̕͝͝ĺ̵̤̓̎͝ĺ̸̨̘̙̩͙̱͇̮̟̩̐̑͐̀̑̀͑͛̚i̶̤͇͎̮͋͆͗̂n̷̡̡̘̻̠̖̓͌̔g̵͚̗̜̫̥̫͛͘ ̶̢̢̨̣̥̳̠̂̿̂͂̓̄͗͑̎̚f̷̨̡̛̯̮̫͕͉̯̠͍o̴̦̝̾̐̋̆̈͊͌̇̏̚ř̸̠̱̖̟̘̭̮̠̉̿̋̿ ̸̢͈͖̹̰̰̑́͝u̴̢̩̰͉̞͍̬̘̓̑̃̎́̾̚̕͝͝ͅs̸̢̛̖̣͉̫͔̤̾͋̍͘ͅ.̸̱̙͑̓̎̈́̐͝

    Niran took up the violin. "It is not calling for us, it is calling for me." She said as she began to play.

  • Match 7 - Fight! (part 2/2)

    "Tunnels, tunnels, cells and tunnels. This is a maze of damn tunnels and boring prisoners. Where did she go? Where is Graagdord? Where did I come from? Hello!" Gorchi ran around trying to find some hint of where Niran had gone. "Shut up goblin!" shouted a prisoner. "You shut up or I burn your toes to coal." 

    Graagdord starred at the secret stone door and the dark hallway. He looked down once again at the footprints that were almost dry. "Gorchi!? Niran?" he shouted but not too loud. He waited for an answer but none came. He looked around himself again in the hope that he somehow would not need to go into that hallway. "Ugh, you are a warrior Graagdord, not a coward. You can not be afraid of some hallway that is strangely dark and cold. Now you shall go in there like the brave warrior you are." He said. He stood still. "Here you go!" He stood still. "Now!" Not a step was made. Graagdord stomped on place while he groaned. "You are not a coward Graagdord. Niran is a coward because she is hiding somewhere in that darkness there inside." He said for himself.   

    Graagdord closed his eyes and took a couple of deep breaths. He held the torch forward and finally, with his eyes closed, he took a step inside the doorway. "Good, good. You are very brave. Now take another one." He said. After a moment he took yet another step and then another and one more. He opened his eyes and a huge smile grew on his face as he managed to walk down the stairs without too much problem. Slowly he made it past another hallway, a room and another hallway. He stopped. Before him was a silver door that had been opened. Behind the door was a room so dark that Graagdord could not even see the floor or walls. It was all black. 

    Graagdord took another series of deep breaths as he prepared to walk forward but then the music from a violin came from the blackness. "Niran, is that you?" He said. In the blackness he saw two eyes watching back at him.

    A spirit swiftly approached Graagdord. He slammed it with his torch but just then, another spirit approached from behind him. The audience cheered. Moments later, the fight was over. "We have our seventh winner!" Shouted Valierielle. 
    "I told you it would end like that" Said Aeryn.
     Efilia scoffed, "You did not." 
    "I did." 
    "I think I would remember if you did."
    "Ah well well. I'm going home, are you coming with me?"
    "No I think I will go to the library. I still haven't looked up about what Moktaractus and Septhis means. Also Akuma asked me earlier if I knew what they were so I feel that is just the right discovery to do know. 
    "Well then. Good luck with your reading and see you tomorrow." 
    Aeryn left the arena and headed towards the market. 

    After she had visit the market and made her way back home she stopped as someone shouted "Help! Someone please help! Aeryn!" She turned around and saw Gorchi come running towards her, from the wrong direction, with Graagdord unconscious in her arms. Tears were pouring from her eyes as she approached Aeryn. "Aeryn. Please help Graagdord. Help him." She cried. Aeryn took Graagdord in her arms. Her stomach got cold as she realized. Graagdord was dead. 

    The rain had stopped. From a tree in a courtyard came a bird flying down to eat of the breadcrumbs that had been thrown. A violin began making music and the bird began to dance. It danced faster and faster until its body could not hang up. It fluttered with its wings so fast it broke one of them. It then fell dead as its spirit was torn from its body. The bird spirit flew and landed on a man's shoulder. 
    "Excellent presentation." he said. 
    Niran sat on a bench, dressed in the coat that the man had earlier worn. "What do I owe you for this." she said. 

    "Nothing at all. It is a gift from my master. With that cloak you will be seen as any ordinary person, even though you are so extraordinary. However you must never mention this to anyone, specially not the Medirnians. You see, the Medirnian royal family and my master does not have a particularity good relationship. If you excuse me, I have some cleaning that must be done in the dungeon. Good bye, miss" the man said and then walked away into the prison again. 

    Niran took out her hand from her pocket. She opened it and looked at three black seeds that lied in her palm. They were oozing with power, greater than that which she had already tasted. She did not dare to swallow any of them, she had already begun to lose control. No, she was in total control. It was that she did nor really care for others lives like she had done. No, that was not. She did care for Graagdord. She did not care if she killed someone that she cared for. It was as if death did not matter for her as much anymore. She lowered her head into her hands. She cared and tried to feel bad but she couldn't. She did not feel very human anymore.

    Ẏ̵̤͈̠̗̮̮̻̍o̴̝͋̇̉̐͗̆͋̕ǘ̴̡͈̹̅̑ ̵̡̥̤͕̤̪̾̐̋d̴̮̖̪̯͊̽̾̿ī̷̼̤̎̈̒̂̍̈́̊̇d̶̲̱͇͚̥͈͙̓ ̸̧̞̪̱̲̤̦̜̀̽̒͗͐͘̕ḡ̷̭̦̰̰̪̼̓̇͆͛̈́̕͝͠o̶͙̟͙̣̠̦̼̪͔̯͛o̸͕̩̒͊̊͘d̸̼͒̏̏̉̇̀̄̐̈͗m̸̧̨̫̻̈́̿͗͠,̸̛̜̳̙͓̰͚̮̪̻̉ ̸̨̛͔̃̎̆̀̏̕Ń̵̛͓͚̖̳͙̠̝̹̫̎͑̑͂̄́̋͝ĩ̸̡̧̫̱̹̲̗̙̣͐̄̉͝͝ṛ̶͍̌̽̕͠a̷̢̙̪͉̮̤̖͍̎̎ñ̶̛̝̞̇̓̔͛̀̈́

    "Silence, tool!" She said loud in her mind. 

    H̸̢̜͖̫͓̯͇̍̄̋̓̂̿a̴͈̗͚̝͊̈̀̏̔̇̚h̴͕͔͔͖̩͋̇͊̚a̵̼̬̝̲̝͇͗ḥ̴̙̈́̏̀̅̀͘ą̶̯̞̾̊̀͑̀h̴̪̳̦̗̹̬̀̆̄͆͜͝ǎ̴̞̊̐̋͛̂.̸̡̅̍̃ ̶̣̞̮̠̘͉̱̅͂̀̈́͠͝͝Y̵̺̯͕͆̿̍͌̉͠ơ̶̡̛̲͔̳̙͎̓͐͂̂u̸̢̡͔̤̠̜̾͒̈͒ ̸̫͈̄͆͛̂͠a̵̛͖̘ṃ̴̫͑̕u̶̧̼͓̟͎͝s̶̨̯̰͓̝̍̍́̈́̆̅͜e̵͕̣̖̼͋̀̏͌̀͝͠ ̷̩̠̳̌m̸̯̉̈̊͗e̴̢͓̿͒̏̃̌͠͠,̴̢̬̣̝͍̅̾̍̂͛̽̚ͅ ̴̦̠͙̦̈́̎͐͠t̶̛͈͇̰͑r̶̦̠͊̚u̸̝̮̞͗̃̂͝ḽ̵͍̻̠̩̅y̶̧̧̜̭̺̝̯̎̿̍͊͘͝.̴͈̱͍̣̂̋̂̾

    Niran took the violin and began to play, without draining the soul of anything. She just wanted to hear the music while she tried to feel some regret for what she had done. 
  • Match 7 - Winner!

    *Sad music!

    Niran won.
    @MonkeyPirate2002 you may now choose to improve Niran's card to a max cmc of 5 or add an additional signature or companion card.
    You may also make changes to your current ones outside of the above. 
    It's going to be interesting see Niran's development in the tournament. 

    Rest in peace Graagdord (Or maybe he is brought back to life somehow.)

    You may now write the aftermath to Graagdord's and Gorchi's story in the tournament. 
    Will Gorchi try to take revenge. 
    I also hope you want to stay and continue participating in the tournament, even if by just reading what is happening. 
This discussion has been closed.