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Tournament of Champions! (The game has begun)
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[If this is even legal, this is supposed to imrove Prototype R5-T1's chances of winning]
Evidently, Mishra had an expansive rapport already with many of the locals. How was only just becoming visible. The many little Bomat Couriers zipping around the city had been delivering express communication.
Mishra was no fool, that was well known by all, but this was no trifling shock. He had been in business talks with many, if not most, of the well-to-do traders of the city (who's harbor greatly attributed to its wealth and eclectic occupancy). Lagornians, then, had one distinctive quality: diversity. Mishra wanted to be appreciated and valued by the heads, as it were, of this diverse populace. His constructs were capable commerce units with respect to loading and the opposite, in addition to their more malicious abilities. As the name implies, Assembly-Workers work well.
The sound of crunching sand. Corscine looks up into the beady black eyes of a goblin festooned in crimison and azure robes that are badly stained. He is holding a golden apparatus with too many switches and buttons.
"You can get up now, you know" the goblin squeaks. "The battle is about to begin."
Corscine moans and rolls over.
The goblin shrugs. "Your funeral."
He saunters away as the crowd cheers.
Two Izzet mages enter the arena, each helping stabilize the shuddering cogwork gargantuan behind them. Its three legs lurch to a stop, and the Izzet mages scramble away as it begins testing each of the fourteen new features added in the last 30 minutes.*
"Welcome to the first round of the Tournament of Champions!" the announcer's voice booms. The crowd is now screaming with ill-contained excitement and fury.
"From the distant lands of Dark Souls, we have a relatively skilled combatant and warlord who is always way too well-lit. Audience...I give you Corscine, Paladin of Sunlight!"
The crowd roars with bloodlust**. Corscine wants the awful noise to stop.
"And from the not-distant-enough lands of Nivix,** we have...something. Not sure what anymore. Uhh. Oh, yeah! We have today, representing the Izzet League, Combatant R5-T4!"
One of R5-T4's arms falls off. Another picks it up and crushes it into a club-shaped object.
"Remember combatants, we all want a brutal fight, but absolutely no foul play whatsoever! ***"
"Too late" the goblin mage mutters.
R5-T4 advances upon the woebegone paladin whimpering in the sand...
____________________________
* Well, 30 minutes in real time. Chronomancy helped.
** Remember, not everyone watching is human. It's hard enough to prevent them from all eating each other in the first place...
*** Thanks @HeroKP
Brutal XD especially that first paragraph!
Mishra's eyes hid nothing of his emotion. Cruel pleasure was evident to those in close proximity. He cared nothing for the obvious result of this first battle.
"The construct will win" he thought "and I couldn't be less intimidated."
Mishra was capable of dismantling an automaton faster then most could pronounce their "names" and would be most pleased if the clear outcome proved true.
Outside the arena, the remainder of Mishra's Assembly-Workers were tirelessly loading and unloading shipments. No malice was evident or conceived. Their goal was obvious, make the money-mongers happy, increase the efficiency and profits. Make Mishra a necessary mercantile ally to those most important in Lagorna.
'Something very peculiar about this challenger', thinks Keres to himself.
Kara speaks to Keres. "Please, friend, listen to me. What's your name? Keezee or whatever? Please don't come near me. I don't want to hurt anyone. .... Oops. I guess that sounded like a threat, huh? I suck at this. Talking is so inconvenient, you know? And they want us to please the crowd?? How are we supposed to do that?! Do they like watching people die horrible deaths? Whoops. That sounded like a threat too. Please don't take it personally! This is where I'm supposed to flatter you to make you like me, right? You're looking very.... ominous.... today! Please don't hurt me... I don't want to lose control again."
Not understanding what Kara meant by losing control, Keres draws upon his power to prepare himself for anything that may come his way. As he is gathering up his power, Keres surveys the crowd. They are getting restless.
'They thirst for blood almost as much as I thirst for knowledge and power.' He conjures up energy, and aims his staff towards Kara.
"You talk too much. Let's get this over with." Keres shoots a burst of energy at Kara. Kara warps, missed by inches as the energy Keres blasted ricochets off the arena wall far behind Kara.
"Please, Keezee? Keezer? Keeree? I'm so nervous, I don't want to hurt you or anyone. Something strange is going on with my body and it could be lethal, maybe even for both of us!" Kara backs from Keres. Keres stops to think.
'If what he is saying is true, then there could be a profound amount of energy and knowledge to gain from defeating him in combat. I must not let an opportunity like this pass. I need to take all his knowledge and power from him, and add both to my own!' thinks Keres, as he readies himself to blast Kara again. This time, Kara closes his eyes.
"Please..." pleads Kara.
"Time to lose the tournament, Kara..." Keres says as he lunges at Kara in an all out energy attack.
She sat with her arms crossed and her trusty lantern at her hip. She briefly glances over the audience, the only one really standing out being Mishra and the Assembly-Worker at his side. She stares briefly, trying to figure out his plan in all of this. After several moments, her decision is inconclusive, and she returns to watching the arena's fighting ground.
"If you didn't have home field advantage with this solid ground arena, I doubt you'd be as smug. Given that fact, *whistles* hey Clementia!! There actually any rules for this fight? I don't have to stay in this tiny circle?"
_____The Only Battle Underway Thus Far is Between "Prototype R5-T1" and "Corscine"_____
She scowled, fairly irritated by now. This will not do. I'm missing the action.
She looked around to see if she could see any of the contestants. (Not that she knew them well, barring Leandra and Beq, whom she'd interacted with.) It was hard to get a decent view through the mass of humanity, but she caught a glimpse of Mishra, his brooding, emotionless countenance. It seemed as though he was enjoying himself, or so she thought as another pair of trousers hid him from view once more. She really didn't know what to make of that strange man. Nor did she know what to make of the exasperating situation she found herself in.
There has got to be a way. Think. You're smart enough.
A clump of grass in a dusty corner caught her eye. She had seen this kind of grass throughout much of the arena, and through much of the city, in fact. Moreover, from what she knew about similar species, all individuals in an area were often of common descent. Some even shared an interlinking root network, forming a single megaorganism.
The beginnings of an idea began to take root in her head.
She abandoned her awful seat, which was duly occupied by someone else, and crept over to the patch of grass, carefully making sure none of the other contestants noticed what she was doing. She kneeled down and placed her hands on it. She knew what she had to do.
This time, don't draw it out. Let the essence flow within them. Life nested within life.
She wove the threads of life-magic, but instead of drawing them out into an external 'orb' and shaping it in the plant's likeness, she left them like neurons within the plant. Just as she had thought, the patch was just a part of a greater grass population that had sprung from a single plant. She pushed the threads in, deeper and deeper. Soon, the skeins of her power pervaded every blade of grass in the arena. She was the grass, and all it interacted with. The sheer interconnectedness of nature never ceased to amaze her.
And now, for an informer.
From whatever little remained of the grasses' essence, she drew a very small orb outside, small enough to sit in her palm (which was very small indeed). Once she was content with her work, she let go of the flow of energy and sat down, sweating profusely from the effort. She quickly wrapped the orb in some dark blue cloth, in order to hide its bright glow, and hid it in the folds of her pocket. She hurried back to her seat, and politely informed whoever was sitting in it that it was her seat, to which they willingly obliged (she was good at convincing grown-ups to do stuff for her; you just had to look adorable and speak politely). Once seated, she surreptitiously reached into her pocket and closed her fingers around the orb, becoming one with the network it was drawn from. She was immediately aware of her surroundings, despite being unable to see what was going on. She felt the tournament, felt the tension of the battle with every blade of grass the battling contestants trod on (she favoured the robot-thingy, because it looked neat, and oddly familiar, as though both she and the robot had been crafted by the same creator). She also could sense many of the other contestants in the audience, although she was wary of the mind-mages, as she didn't want her 'extended presence' to be noticed.
Radhe smiled in triumph. She didn't just have a way of watching the contests. She had a spy network. And boy, was she going to make good use of it.
Oh, if only they could see what I've done. Maybe then they'd think twice before calling me a 'gardener'.
Oliver did not say anything, he just stood still and down on her.
"Bloodthirst? Are you also as bloodthirsty as these people. People that rather come here to watch some strangers fight themselves bloody in some arena until one of they die!?"
"What are you saying kara?" - Radhe
"these people are out of their mind" - Kara said as she pointed at Olvier.
"It's not them" - Oliver
"What's not them?" - Kara
"It's not the people that is thirsty for blood. The people are only here for one reason.
They come here to see heroic people, strong people fight. They come here to wish that their hero that fights for them succeeds, most of them have to see their hero fall though and rise again, like death will free them from fighting. So that they can go home, home" Oliver paused,
"Home where their families are waiting for them."
"so, who are are thirsting for blood then?" - Kara
Oliver pointed at Kara, then he and Radhe continued to the arena.
Jahanacicus was sitting and waiting in the arena. Watching both civilians, soldiers and even the others enter the arena from the upper entrances were they then searched for a place to sit. Now the hosts had appeared in the Podium looking structure across the arena. First came Clementia, dressed in her usual yellow dress. Then came Nathan in some green and silver formal attire. They where followed by three other people that
Jahanacicus did not recognice. One last person appeared in the podium as
Jahanacicus felt a cold feeling crawling into him. The person or being was almost entirely covered in a green-greyish robe. His face was resembled a human but also not. his face was white, his skin where cracked as if he was dry. His eyes where white with a tone of grey. The man or thing stopped before his chair, looked across the arena, first upwards to the left and then right onto Jahanacicus who froze even more now. The man smiled, looked at some other directions before he sat down into his chair. The freezing feeling disappeared from Jahanacicus. Before he could even think he turned towards where mishra was. Mishra also looked somewhat shocked. "So it was not just me" Jahanacicus thought.
Prototype R5-T1 and Corscine had taken their place in the center of the arena which was now clearly rearranged for combat, with a stone wall between the center and the water that was surrounding it. There where also some small barrier between the battle ground and the audiance.
One of the host now stood up and spread out his arms "My dear people, I welcome you this day to witness something that has great value to all of us. These two fighters you see in front of you have been chosen to fight for you today. They will fight until one of them fall, but. My dear people, Death will not make its home here today. Because my dear people as we all know, our heroes will never die as long as we have faith in them."
The Audiance spoke out "Our heroes will never die as long as we have faith in them."
"A construct created by the masterminds of the izzet guild stands here for us today, The one and only Prototype R5-T1!" The audiance cheered its name.
"A warrior of sunlight from the kingdom of Lothric, wielder of the Flame Hammer of the Gargoyles. Master of the miracle arts. A warrior with a soul ignited by flame but with a body of ash, The one and only Corscine, Paladin of Sunlight"
The audiance cheered his name.
"Let the first round of this tournament begin!"
"I suppose there's no cause for concern" he reasoned inwardly. "The last thing a Lagornian wants is harm to befall the champions... prematurely."
Mishra had begun to tinker on an elaborate clasp on his coat. He always found something to do when thinking. He also knew that his powerful friends would do all in their power to keep him out of harms way for as long as they were able. He was of to great importance not to protect.
"Nevertheless" his thoughts continued "some investigation, and a few more workers, will be scheduled for tonight."
Prototype R5-T1 was raising up again and slung itself against Corscine whom did not have time to think cast the first miracle he could think of, causing a lightning storm to appear. Corscine got hit bad by the construct in the breast but luckily one bolt of lightning hit the construct causing it to malfuction again.
Corscine was crawling in pain before he could cast a healing miracle on himself.
"There is no way i can win this fight, not against this metal fiend."
He looked at his flame hammer that lied on the other side of the arena.
He could not muster enough strenght to break the thing, even with the hammer.
"There is only one way for me to win this, It may be heretical of me but it is the only chance i have."
He dropped the chime and created a flame from his hand. He touched his breast with the hand causing lots of pain but it strengthened him beyond his limits. Prototype R5-T1 was once again moving and this time it gave very little time for Corscine. He was very fast now, he jumped to the hammer, He grabbed it and slung it backwards hitting the construct right face on. "Hahaha!" Bits of metal where flying in all directions while the construct hit the stone wall on the other side. It raised itself up again but Corscine was this time quickly at it. One swing pushed the construct down into the ground as sand was pushed up. another swing caused the construction to fly through one of the pillars. A third hit bathed it in flame so it caught fire. Corscine, now extremely exhausted smiled as he gave a last hard swing. The burning construct flew straight through the stone wall and down into the water, as the audiance both cheered and screamed.
Jahanacicus however was secretly smiling. Corscine would now be powerless but Prototype R5-T1 was still not finished as he had made sure of. Corscine was falling onto his knees in a praying position in the middle of the arena. Then, Sploosh! Prototype R5-T1 was flying out of the water. Jahanacicus was smiling but quckly interupted by the freeezing feeling overwhelming him so he almost fell out of his seat. He looked towards the podium where he saw the pale man smiling with an almost laughing face expression.
Prototype R5-T1 slung itself through a large portion of the wall as if it was made of paper. Corscine did not have a moment of a chance to turn before the construct had inpaled him with one of its broken arms.
Jahanacicus looked around at the others and Mishra but no one of them seemed to have been affected by the mans magic. "he know" Jahanacicus thought. "he know that i mixtured with Prototype R5-T1." The freezing feeling was no longer overwhelming, when he thought about it. It did never even hurt, it was just so. unfamiliar. He looked back at the pale man who gave an almost bowing nod to Jahanacicus before he stood up and dissappeared into the entrance. "He, that man or thing. he did not intend to kill nor hurt but to show a part of his power."
The crowd was cheering as never before now as Prototype R5-T1 was delcared winner of the first round. The priest from the first day had gone down to the arena now and was leaning of Corscine. He wrote some marks on him in what seemed like ink. He then poured some liquid over his body which he put aflame. The fire did not seem violent though. Corscine body started to heal its wounds and the hole in his stomach was growing together. The priest ended it all by putting some dadel looking fruit into his mouth. It took only seconds before Corscine woke up. He seemed to be in some pain but nothing more. The others where already leaving the arena, cheering Prototype R5-T1 as they walked. Jahanacicus was silent though. he could not stop thinking about that pale man. Thus the first round has come to a close.
Winner
@Gelectrode
@Timmeh7o7 Feel free to post any evolutions of Corscine if you have any. If you don't you can still make them if you want.
You will be given one favorite of your choice for each of Corscine's cards that you post. This includes your already posted Corscine, Paladin of Sunlight.
Upon return to his adopted workshop, he found a pile of deliveries next to dormant Bomat Couriers. He didn't even bother unpackaging them, merchants were a bore. He had the five Assembly-Workers gather up his belongings and activate the couriers. The most powerful merchants had argued over who would provide Mishra with new lodgings. Now that one of them had overcome the others (in whatever method such men use), Mishra had a new abode to move to.
The line of automatons was a curious sight as it wound through the city with the cripple at its head. The few who witnessed it gawked briefly and then went about their business; it was getting late.
That night Mishra completed his sixth Assembly-Worker and began another apparatus never before imagined.
What he had said earlier to Leandra had been more of an intimidation tactic than a complete truth: he did actually believe in the power of thought. He wasn't the most intelligent human being, but Maern knew how to persuade people to do what he wanted. It usually involved breaking a leg or arm as well as looming over people holding his whip, but his persuasion tactics had in fact done more for him than his strength, at least in the case of getting into a position of power. Now the sole ruler of the town that once tortured him daily, he does admit that he somewhat enjoys the crude violence used to enforce the laws, but he doesn't use violence for his enjoyment, he uses it for some purpose, and the sense of purpose is what gives the violence an enlightening feeling.
Honestly, Maern much preferred his ability to get people on his side through fear over his brute strength, as it is easier to win a battle when almost everyone is already on your side.
Maern continued his ambling through Legorna, searching for something to eat as people jumped out of the way of the unnaturally tall man with a disgusting whip.
:::looks around at ALL the warriors glaring at him:::
"I'll just see myself out... tough crowd in here..."
Prototype R5-T1 to be redesigned. Disappointment over not being able to water gears with the vital juices of the combatant evident during deactivation process.
She planned to find a library and research whip techniques as much as possible for the next day, except for during the next arena match, of course. She’d need to know what she was up against if she expected to win.