Oh, bugger it: who wants a fight?

[Laughing Stock]

Although I admit that little rant of mine from a few weeks ago was quite fun to write, it probably wasn’t the most mature way to end my relationship with this place. So, for the hell of it, I’ll challenge anyone who’s up for it to one last battle. As far as the rules go, I have only two I would like to suggest:

We cannot leave this battle hanging. I’ve seen it happen so many times on this site it's almost put me off battling altogether, although perhaps things may have changed since I was a regular here.

Regardless, the fight will end only when the other is beaten or has given up, and the only thing that can put it on hold is something serious happening in RL. If you can agree to this, then I can agree to cross words with you (lulz, see wot I did thar?).

The other is that I'd prefer it if the god characters of old keep their planet-eating mittens out of this battle. Galaxy-obliterating duels were never really my thing, and even now I'm still fairly uncomfortable using characters like that. Other than that, I leave the setting to the discretion of my opponent.

I know my reputation doesn’t quite match that of Morph, LoC or any of the other oldies, but hopefully someone will take pity on an old vet and give him one last fight… ;_;

 

[Chromatic]

If you don't mind waiting until the weekend is over to get it started, then I'll take up this challenge.

 

[Laughing Stock]

Sure, I'm fine with that. I'll put up the first post after the weekend (unless you want it, I'm not really that fussed about who goes first), and I'll include my character template along with it. See you on Monday.

 

[Laughing Stock]

This is the heavily butchered version of a character I use on another site. If you want the full template, just put his name into Google.

Name: Vandarl Cel-Demian
Age: 43.
Race: Human.
Gender: Male.
Weight: 113lb.
Height: 5ft 3ins.

~ Personality ~

​

Vandarl has grown to become a different person since his training in Linmotar began and through his meetings with its more unusual inhabitants. He has finally abandoned the façade of a cantankerous, wretched mess to once again embrace who he really was; due to this, he has become far more refined in his manner, making him colder and more distant to those he finds to be beneath him. He no longer conceals his emotions, and is quick to smile or to laugh – yet he is even quicker to anger, with a tongue as sharp as his daggers; although at least he still shows a strong inclination towards winning a battle with words rather than weapons.

Since re-establishing who he was, notions of noblesse oblige have begun to stir within Vandarl, and he believes that – in order to bring about the revival of his house – he must yet prove himself to the people of Rurian. This has made him much more open to the plights of those around him; even to those he perceives as beneath him. However, a streak of cowardice has been bred into him by his years of living as a beggar of Tiralir, and he will have no qualms with abandoning the causes of others to save his own skin unless he has a strong enough reason for being there. Nonetheless, his homeland still means more to him than anything else, and he would fight to the death to preserve her.

When drunk, however, Vandarl reverts to his most base personality; becoming wildly emotional at the most mundane of provocations and a coward in the face of any enemy. He can become hostile to either friend or foe at a moments notice, and plead for mercy in the next. He is not above thievery, even from those less fortunate than he, and will do or use anything within his means to stay alive and get what he wants, in that precise order.

~ Appearance ~

His wavy brown hair has been washed and trimmed recently, swept back from his forehead and behind his ears to tumble freely down to his upper back in a style common to typical human nobles. A soft, milky pale hazel eye peers out of the left socket knowingly while a black strip of cloth covers the other, held to his face by a neat knot tied just above and behind his left ear. His bold, confident features, lined as much by age as by battle scars, are revealed now on tanned skin where his once ragged beard has been trimmed and managed down to a clean goatee.

His wasted body, reduced to mere skin and bones by years of heavy drinking and indolence, has developed into something close to perfectly toned body of his youth. His clothes have also been recently stitched, cleaned and dyed. The left side of his colourful jacket presents the symbol of House Cel-Demian – a rose contained within a thin spiral of sand – while the jacket itself has been dyed various unusually brilliant colours – pink and yellow being the predominant pair, with his trousers being very much the same. His light brown boots - being rather awkward to properly dye - have instead been polished to a mirror shine.
​

​

~ History ~

Deleted, by virtue of the fact that it is over 4000 words of irrelevance.
​

​

~ Abilities/Skills ~​

Dagger Skill – Although not quite proficient just yet, Vandarl is now at least capable of holding his own with his daggers, and is able to inflict high damage on an opponent of equal skill.
​

~ Weapon/s ~

Iron Dagger – Sharp, reliable and efficient; the only thing Vandarl has been smart enough to keep hold of instead of pawning it off for more drinking money.

Iron Dagger – Apart from a different design on the hilt and the fact that it has a guard in the shape of a cross as opposed to the other one which has none, this dagger is identical to the other one in Vandarl’s possession in every way that matters.

Rusty Sword – Not entirely sure why he picked this flaking, dull-orange sword up, Vandarl has an inexplicable draw towards this useless weapon. Complete with sheath.

‘Rurian Fire’ Potions x 10 – (Basically, think of Greek Fire in a jar. If you don't know what that is, Wiki it)
​

​

~ Armor ~​

None – Sold it all for drinking money years ago.

~ Items ~​

Book on Alchemy – Entitled ‘Observations on Creation’ and written by renowned alchemist and inventor Alastar Weidheight, this novel provides some basic methods of creating potions and some step-by-step guides on mixing advanced chemicals to create some potent results.

~ Flaws ~​

- Advantages -

Intelligence: - Drink, although it has worn away at his body and spirit, has not dulled his senses much. Clever, witty and with a creative mind, Vandarl is much more intelligent than would be assumed.

Charm: - Even when at his worst, Vandarl has always had an air of charisma and natural flair about him, something that helps to put others at ease when interacting with him.

- Disadvantages -

Bad Eyesight: (- 1) Although the infection spreading to one of his eyes has been cleared up, his vision remains impaired by the other missing eye.

~ since triple posting is bad, I'll only double post and include my intro with this ~

The slowly vanishing sun has spread its crimson tendrils across a cloudless indigo sky, looming over the desolate moor I have found myself in like a demon from beyond my wildest imaginings. My eye is drawn to it, a sinister sense of foreboding that rises within me sending an icy shiver down my spine and stealing another of my heartbeats every time I consider its meaning. I almost feel as if this were planned – as if this day, this time, this very place was built for a destiny that is soon to be fulfilled. Perhaps it was my destiny to come here… or perhaps it is my fate to never leave it.

Vandarl allowed both pen and journal to fall from his tired old hands, his one pale hazel eye still focused upon the blood-red beast that crept upon the horizon. Indeed, he did feel a certain sense of cold apprehension as he looked upon it; goodness, even a newborn child could understand the meaning of a red sky.

Vandarl was not a superstitious man; heaven and hell existed only in the fantasy worlds of men who feared what existed behind closed eyes; irrational ideals that wearied the body and weakened the mind. But there was always something primal, something instinctive about a sky coloured with scarlet… for if blood could touch upon the heavens themselves, why could it not touch upon the earth?

A warm, gentle northern wind stirred with a subtle suddenness, catching upon Vandarl’s brown, slightly greying hair to caress him with fingers of the softest velvet. He turned to the wind and smiled slightly; cracked, dry lips breaking to form a wistful expression upon his scarred, aged face. Reaching down for his journal and pen with both hands, Vandarl lifted them from the grassy earth and nimbly dipped the pen into an ink bottle he kept secure inside his jacket, and quickly began to write.

A kind wind has stirred, rising from the north to bless me with its warmth and compassion. It glides through the long grass like a beautiful dancer, drawing each and every soft green blade into its captivating movements. I am upon a small hill, raised above the land that surrounds me, but naught can be seen for miles in any direction but fields of grass, all swaying to the same hypnotic rhythm. This is a peaceful place of serene beauty, perfect beyond words – a place I believe I could die in and leave this world content.

A place I could die in… those words stayed in Vandarl’s mind, and the more he considered them, the more shocked he felt when he discovered he meant them.

“Content to die,” he mulled to himself in a soft whisper, closing his eye as he inhaled a deep breath. Even the air itself was fresh and pure, invigorating both heart and soul, something unlike anything he had experienced in his entire life. To die here in this forgotten land, Vandarl realized with amazement, would satisfy him.

But he could not die just yet. There were many things he still had to do, not the least of which was to make it back to Rurian. One day, he knew, his life would end; but it would not end today and it would not end tomorrow – it would end only when he had completed his mission, and fuck anyone or anything that told him any different. Perhaps, one day, he would come back to this place to finish off his remaining years in peace and harmony… but not for many years to come. Destiny was only in the hands of those willing to make their own, and Vandarl had his own path to follow, one that he would build with his own hands.

He glanced back down at his journal, swearing under his breath before scrawling one last piece of writing beneath his last paragraph and then slamming it closed. That had been the last page within the leather-bound journal, but his story would not end there. Many more pages would be filled before his time came. Placing both journal and pen back inside his jacket, Vandarl rose to his feet and turned to the setting sun, his eye searching for the blurred line where crimson earth met crimson sky.

Perhaps something had guided his mind to this forsaken place, but he had waited here for long enough. Shouldering a small sack he had kept at his side, Vandarl walked towards the red-tailed demon beyond the horizon, determination etched into his face while a question formed on his tongue.

"Why did I come here, anyway?"
​

 

[Chromatic]

Name: Synthetic Human Intelligence (SHI)
Age: Her body is only about a year old, but her brain is of approximately twenty.
Gender: Female in both body and mind

Appearance:
In appearance, SHI is your average young woman. She stands at about five feet ten inches in height, and her body has an athletic cut to it. Her eye color is a grayish blue color, and her hair black, and reaching down about half way down her back, and can almost always be seen in two ponytails. Her complexion is Caucasian, and her expression usually one of deep thought and often worry. As her attire, she wears a military made, leathery skintight body suit that allows her a fuller use of her body.

Composition and Abilities:
Almost the entirety of SHI’s body is made of a system of rubber spring like shock absorbers. In addition to enabling her to survive high falls with relatively little damage done to her, it also serves to store, and control kinetic energy, allowing for significantly faster speeds. Due to the rubbery quality of the material, it is capably off semi elasticity, preventing such powerful kinetic forces from tearing her body apart, as well as allowing her extra flexibility, and to an extent, extendibility and, of course retractability. Through the rapid movement of the inner shock absorbers, SHI can build up kinetic energy to be used fast strings of attacks. Perhaps the only part of her that isn’t synthetic her brain.

Weaponry:
For the most part, SHI maintains armaments of considerable simplicity. The most complex of her armaments, though she rarely uses it, is a “charge glove” which she wears upon her right hand. The glove’s function is letting off an electric charge, creating an effect similar to lightning. Other than this, she prefers the use of melee weapons, such as daggers, and swords.


Bio:
SHI is the result of nearly fifty long years of research in the development of synthetic life forms, which ultimately consummated with her creation in 2934. Exactly what her intended purpose was isn’t known, as she was taken from her creator by a military conglomerate. They talked her into joining them as a soldier of sorts. Their intention for her was to field test her in “the past.”

SHI didn’t know what to make of these words. But she was assured that she would find out in due time. And find out she did.

SHI eventually learned that the conglomerate that had stolen her from her creator had stolen a device before her. The device was one that, working in a manner SHI didn’t fully understand, could send her back in time. Her orders were to go to the past, and hunt down specified targets to test her new body. The military would be able to retrieve her, and return her to her own time in order to make repairs to her design as needed.

((Due to being tired at the moment, I'll be making my first battle post in the very near future when I'm not tired. It'll be edited onto this one.))




"Preparing to drop test subject into new area. Testing will commence as soon as target has been located. Are there any arguments from the subject?"

These words were the only ones that had spoken from the aircraft since take off. Their manifestation from the cockpit provided a welcome break from the disturbing silence that had filled the "cargo area". Yet there was no real cargo in this spot to speak of. The boxes, tanks, and crates that usually qualified as cargo had been switched out to make more than enough room for a different type of commodity; it was one that would, if suspicions proved to be true, would be in high demand when the wars broke out.

"SHI hasn't spoken a word since before we took off," said the general, whose face bore the scares of more battles than the Earth itself, and seemed even more torn, as a result of its aged, wrinkled look. His head was completely bald, SHI knew, even though he had it well covered by the marine issue dress hat. His right hand, lost in a battle, had been replaced by a mechanical claw. With such a grotesque appearance, he had felt the need to give himself a misleadingly friendly demeanor. "Are you ready, SHI?" he asked across the hold.

Fielding his question, was a seemingly average woman; gentle and kindly. Her black hair falling straight past her shoulders, and surprisingly steady, considering they were in motion. The woman simply stared at the general for what felt like hours. "Yes sir, I'm ready," she said, hoping that she wasn't lying to herself. "Who's to be my target though?"

"For this mission, you'll be allowed to choose your own target. Just don't get yourself roughed up too bad," the general explained.

SHI looked around, and noticed that there was one important item missing from her inventory. "Sir, where's the parachute?"

The General winced at her as though she had just inssulted his person. "You shant be needing it. Trust me on that one."

I suppose I've got no choice; just like the rest of the options I thought I had. She got up from the bench, and stood at the back of the aircraft where the undersife opened down, revealing a vast, green moor area. SHI was in full understanding of the conditions she was under. It was quite simple: Do as we say, or be killed. She had to admit that she didn't like taking orders of the sort that they were giving her. But she also liked being alive.

Taking in a deep breath, SHI jumped from the opening in the under side of the craft. The fall was a short one for her, only about 1000 feet. It was only a matter of seconds before she landed on the ground, knees slightly bent as she did so. Every part of her body took in the shock of the landing, and she fell over onto her backside, and roled over, getting slowly back to her feet. At least they know that I can survive that fall. Now who would come to a place like this? Carefully, she gripped her equipement belt, arming herself with a pair of bladed tonfa. Even if there was no one in sight, she was still a sitting duck.