Clash of the Elite

[JAIF]

This is a special attraction, a fight between the four most recent tournament winners - Arros, BI, Nikushimi and Eragon (I won't participate) - to determine who deserves to be called the best in all of MFG. If you are asking yourselves 'And wtf does this have to do with me?', then rest assured, this has a lot to do with you. But I won't reveal it just yet.

While this fight is for these four, at any point during and even before the fight, you are free to post in this thread (the battle will take place in another topic), declaring your support towards one or more contestants, sharing your opinion on what they need to improve, discussing their performance etc. Don't forget - this is still a tournament fight, and the victor will be decided by you.

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For millenia, amongst countless worlds, from endless fighters, the most powerful of each generation were challenged in the ultimate test of their battle prowess, the Tenka'ichi Budokai. Thousands swarmed in these tournaments, hoping to be recognized as the strongest, the fittest in the universe, only to have their dreams crushed and broken by those few, the elite of the elite, who, after countless of deathly struggles, managed to ascend to the top, and be crowned the winners of the Tenka'ichi Budokai.

Amongst their peers, they were revered as champions - amongst the common folk, worshipped like Gods.

And now, by the hand of destiny itself, even from beneath their final resting places, these Gods are brought together, assembled in an event like no other, to find out who truly deserves the title of the strongest warrior throughout eternity.

The place that would bear witness to this clash has no name. One could soar through the emptiness of the vast multiverse using the fastest means of transportation invented, and he could search for millenia, but still he would never stumble across the stage that would house the epic struggle between the titans.

This arena, located in a hole in the space-time continuum, was positioned on an otherwise empty floating chunk of land. The stadium itself was a massive colliseum designed to house thousands upon thousands of spectators, but that was completely empty - for now. The arena's size reminded one more of a small village than a battle stadium. The sturdy, solid black rock that composed the floor ensured the fighters a steady footing, but, even though nothing bizzare was to be seen, an experienced fighter could instantly feel that this arena was full of surprises for the unprepared.

But those who had arrived here were not unprepared. They were four of the mightiest warriors the world had ever known, and now they were risking literally everything in a fight to claim the ultimate prize - the power of a true God.

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So basically, this is your arena. Once you pick your characters, you are free to Roleplay here for a while - but there isn't much to do except interact with each other until the fight kicks in. Speaking of which, aside from what we've discussed in PMs, I have a few surprises planned for you as to the form and nature of your fight.

Win this, and you will become Gods - the practical significance of this victory will not be revealed until later on, though.

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Rules so far (more to come once the battle starts):

1) You can be any character you want. It is you who is tested, not your characters that won the respective tournament - so your 'Avatar' in this fight can be anyone.

2) Do not engage in any form of battle until the fight starts. Any other action - within logic, of course; do not forget you are on a floating island devoid of life - is allowed.

3) You are brought here as the elite of the elite, and even outside the battle, you are expected to show that level of skill. Do not disappoint.

4) Most importantly, enjoy yourselves.

[Arros]

The heavy, and somewhat brutal footsteps echoed through out the coliseum, almost as if they came from all directions, into a single point of existence. An existence of total corruption that few dared speak his name. Many wouldn't even look, and those that did retched.

A figure, looming over the empty, casting an eternal darkness even over the shaded floor. A shadow at first, the man, or was it a man? The outline was humanoid, if not somewhat tall and bulked. What was it then, that caused a sense of fear to drift through the breath, and exhumed into the mind?

A cape was visible, and the thudding steps rattled the stadium with power, viciousness. The crop of crimson hair with a single jewel on the forehead. The eyes, soaked in the evil of bloodshed, destruction, manic. A black-plated amour on the chest, filled with yellow gems on the edge.

It was coming closer, as the breath being held by the nothingness would soon creep in, inexpertly, and certainly snuff out any who came and was not ready. That would be the awful fate.

...And just when the doom was about to arrive, it stopped. Suddenly, still went the air as it floated mockingly.

The sound of hooves, something, a horse was coming, yet it was not seen. Like the figure had so recently come, the sound came from everywhere, and resounded into a single point. Then, with a grunt, the figure jumped and the speeding black stallion flew at high speed. The black coat of the horse so deep that even the shadows would make lighting on the valiant animal.

Who could be seen riding on top?

Who could be seen smiling, smirking in triumph as though he had already won?

Who could be seen hanging a fist into the air as the crowd soon arrived?

Who, with a dream of conquest, could be seen with the brilliant triangle of the gods on his hand?

It...

Was...

...Ganondorf.

Ooc-Yep, that's my character.

[Nikushimi]

The sky flashed and rumbled with the arrival of a powerful entity, a source of unimagineable power. Two dark figures observed this phenomenon without a word, staring up into the violent mosaic of interdimensional energies above them, contemplating the vastness of it. It was the larger of these two, who bore a massive weapon clothed in bandages, that turned to the other with visible concern in his expression, deep creases twisting the rough features of a being who himself was no trifle. Nonetheless, even he choked on the palpable sensations of strength in the air.

"You really think you can win?" the figure asked over his shoulder, using one hand to prod the stone roof of the structure with his blade, "This chakra in the air... Samehada is frightened."

The other figure gave no response. Cold, red, unyielding eyes peered out from the darkness, and with another flash from the heavens, the outline of a head rested against a fist became visible, the placid features of a murderer bearing their silent fangs for a very brief instant. The taller of the two, worried as he was, grew more worried still, his beady white eyes shrinking into nervous slits as a single glistening drop curved down his blue cheek.

"They are far stronger than I am. These are not shinobi. These are not even men. There is no word to describe what these are. And for whatever twisted reason fate has conspired for you to fight them, I can only stand by with concern for your life. This is no ordinary fight...Itachi-san... Even you, with your power-"

"That's enough." came the other's only reply, silencing the violent maelstrom above for a moment, "You forget who you are talking to. You forget the nature of my power, the depth of my capacity..."

Slowly, intently, keeping existence itself in silent anticipation, the other rose his left hand, turning the palm upward as he did so, as if he were to hold something.

"I will be the one to grasp the light." he uttered with a voice that froze the air, stopping his hand as it came to level with his piercing stare, "All are powerless...before these eyes that read the world..."

And with another flash of light, the whole of the area became illuminated. Mounted atop the highest point of the structure, as if it were a makeshift throne, Uchiha Itachi sat like some great arbiter, prepared to bend the unfolding events to the shape he desired. This was his moment, and no one else's...

[Island of 1,000 Condiments]

Looks like I'll be the first non-Fighter to reply.



Dio: First of all, the description of the setting should be more thorough. I honestly couldn't grasp it. Describe the landscape, climate, background, and so forth. As the author, a painted image of your battlefield is drawn in your mind. You have to redraw that image - Give it to others. Most of your post was information. I want description. In fact, when writing an introduction, divide your post into categories. For example, I used Introduction, Setting, Guidelines, Objectives, etc. Organize your thoughts. The Introduction would include background information such as 'Who? What? When? Where? Why? How?' Setting is a straight-forward description of the 'Where?' sub-category. Everything else, such as Guidelines and Objectives is OoC to give the players an idea of what they should and shouldn't be doing.

Arros: Action but little description. Basically, reread the first 5 sentences I posted for Dio.

Nikushimi: Who is Itachi? Who is Kisame? What is Samehada? Give me a description of who these characters are. Give me some background information. Describe them. Also, describe the landscape around them. Paraphrase Dio's Setting through the eyes of Itachi and / or Kisame. Reread the first 5 sentences I posted for Dio. That's basically what you should improve on. The introduction shuld be impressive. Out of everything in a battle, the introduction or re-introduction of a character should be the most descriptive. Give me all the juicy details, mayn. (Oh, and the dialogue was impressive. Well written.)

[Eragon]

“Give Al… my regards.”
Withholding a moan of pain, the blonde-haired man forced his body to turn about the dragon fang that pierced his back and soaked his clothes with the stench of blood, and raised a hand to its maw. His teeth grit together, and a pair of grey eyes, clouded with cares centuries old, met with crimson orbs of bloodlust. A disgusting, metallic taste swelled in his mouth, little more than a distraction in this moment, wrapping his arm around the beasts muzzle; its eyes narrowed with sentient suspicion.

‘I’m a sinner, who turned my son into this monster,’ He remarked to himself balefully, with an almost sardonic, rueful smile, ‘and who stole the lives of others to save myself. But… I still wish I could see you, one last time-‘

“Trisha...”
The final word, the alchemist whispered, so low it could only be heard by himself and the dragon. With a groan of effort, he suddenly acted unexpectedly pulling the lizards jaw downward. It hesitated for a moment; resisted, as though suspicious of a trick; then, relinquished, the dirty-blonde’s innards splashing and staining his ivory teeth in an explosion of blood, which connected with the intricate circle upon the ceiling, and fell o earth under the pull of gravity. A dark, crazed laugh resonated in the back of the emerald beasts mind, mingling with the cries of horror from the boy staring in wide-eyed disbelief, a gun shaking in his hand. The diagram, whose shape mirrored that the mythical beast had been pulled into, began to glow ominously, a searing light that burnt, and stung, and summoned him; not with the calming allure of home, but kicks and screams, whiles Edward an the Thule Society looked in amazement.

This was what accompanied the departure of Hohenheim of Light from this world; laughs. Screams. Stares. White.

Silence.

---

“Ho…Hen…Heim…”
Though whispered, these syllables rang out in the wasteland that made up this arena, this lump of black onyx adrift in a sea of nothingness, but if they were heard by anything alive was doubtful; even their owner seemed oblivious to having uttered them. In fact, they seemed oblivious to everything that was going on.

It was a young figure, one who looked little older than a teenager, though they stumbled with the awkward clumsiness of a child. A sleeveless shirt hugged his chest tightly, though with a loose collar, and was the same colour as the shorts; a dark black, which caught the light and reflected purple. His expression –though he appeared feminine, he was a male, at least technically- was drawn and shocked, with pupils wide and glazed over, and a mouth that hung open; along with his uncertain movements across the empty plain, they gave him an aura of the living dead. Appropriate.

The mysterious youth’s legs suddenly buckled, and a loud thud rang out, as his head connected with the ground, arms lain awkwardly above him, with eyelids half-closed. Long, thick strands of green hair spread out about his back like a cloth, and he was still.

SNAP

Without warning, his eyes snapped open, pupils shrinking back into focus as awareness re-entered his features, with sudden ferocity. Blinking rapidly, and looking surprised to be lying on the ground, Envy groaned, and pushed himself into a sitting position, rubbing a black band across his forehead which restrained his mess of hair… besides the numerous bangs which fell across his face, of course. With a palm pressed tight to his face, and the aching head o someone who was hung over, he shot a sharp, red-eyed glare over the naked surroundings.

“Where the hell am I?” he demanded the air with a scowl, leaping to his feet with an uncertain jerk, and uncharacteristic tumble, losing his balance for a moment before quickly catching himself, balancing upon the toes of odd ‘shoes’, which consisted of an odd sort of sock extending down his leg and covered his feet, save for the heel and toes of both.

The homunculus groaned once more, feeling something sticky about his mouth, and moving instinctively to wipe it, casting another, somewhat calmer gaze about the surrounding area. Seeing nothing but something that looked like a coliseum nearby, he scowled, beginning a resentful walk towards it.

“Just what is this place- huh?”
Between strides, he couldn’t help but stare at the back of the hand he had used to wipe his mouth and face. It was covered in blood; so much and so thick that it fell from the back of the fingerless gloves and to the ground with a splash, accompanied by more from his lips. More blood than any animal would have had, and far more than even he could lose in a fight without being aware of it; and, wet, and slimy as it was, spread across his lower face, he was most certainly aware of it.

Another scowl passed his lips, pressing a hand to his forehead as he passed entered the arena through a path meant for spectators a sudden flash of pain shooting across his face. A series of images flashed through the homunculi’s mind violently- his father; the Gate; that light. Nothing and now, something. An eternal white, and now, a sea of black.

Envy panted, perspiration clinging to his brow with a hand pressed to the wall for support, though a slow, crazed grin began to spread on his expression; he may not have known where he was, how he got here, or why, but he knew Hohenheim’s death had acted as toll for it.
Suddenly, the blood tasted even better than before.

With a smirk, the male straightened his back, wincing mockingly at the crack and flicking his nose as he stepped out into daylight. There was a rapid glance to the right, then to the left. In either direction, as far as his eye could see and, apparently curving around, were rows upon rows of empty seats, he himself having entered somewhere in he middle. With a flippant smirk, he dropped into the chair right beside the entrance, folding his feet upon the back of the one in front as he leaned back.

“What a dump,” he complained, to no one in particular, taking a lock of hair and twisting it around his finger, resting his cheek upon the palm of his hand, cleaning the blood from his cheeks.
Whatever was going on, it beat an eternity with Gluttony that was for sure.

[Beautiful Illusion]

OOC ~ It is decided. I am so screwed. xD

Her entry was far from extreme ... she was late, and knew it well. It did not phase her. Her business, somewhere in the line of devil hunting, was her business alone; it was not her place to make such excuses as to why she was somewhat late. Of course, she could not say she had any real idea as to why she was there. Her initial approach had been another half-baked mission proposed by Dante ... and of course, there was not much she would do to oppose him anymore. Her heels clicked, as they did so often, with the hard surface ... her eyes, hidden rather liberally by a pair of dark shaded glasses, scanned those that had already arrived; the differenced between them were almost startling ... and yet she could not help but feel the oddest of them all.

"And so it begins?" She questioned, not etirely addressing the other 'fighers' - or so she assumed - but rather asking a question that could be answered rhetorically. The female shifted her weight across to her right hip, body forming a leaning position; such a thing was accentuated but the tight leather she wore ... she could hardly be called a woman of bodily modesty. Many a man's jaw could have dropped easily with a glance at hercleavage - displayed rather liberally at the opening of a tight black corset. Her pants, too, were so tight that they accentuated every contour of her lower body ... one most likely would have questioned how exactly she could move in such an outfit ... and especially in such high heels.

"I take it you're all here for the same reasons?" She questioned, this time turning towards the three that had already arrived. It was not her style to make a loud entrance ... she favoured what came afterwards much, much more, though this did not prevent her from seeking answers. The female was unsure as to whether she was the final person to have been beckoned, or whether there were others; her fingers ran across the pendant that swing from her neck - silver in colour, though set with a glittering red stone ... she wore it for only one purpose, which she kept to herself, until the need to divulge it arrived. True, there was no need for an aura of mystery, but she did not feel it appropriate to explain her entire story every time she met a new group of people; she reminded herself that many of these people were, in fact, demons or customers, and so were either dead, or gone, before long.

"Trish, by the way." The female spoke her name in a curt fashion, as a belted arm placed its hand upon her hip, Trish once again shifting her weight across to her other hip. She flicked the near white-blonde strands of hair that fell past her shoulders ... all the while, refusing to remove the shaded glasses.One thing was certain - her entrance may not have been particularly exciting ... but her appearance was somewhat moreso.