JAIF

Well, I gave some time for something to happen in the intro topic, but oh well. Without further ado, the battle begins.

I highly doubt I have to explain the rules to you (you wouldn't be here if you didn't know them anyway), but for the sake of it...

Rules:

-Do not auto-hit.

-Do not control your opponent's character(s).

-For practical purposes, each of your characters begins at a roughly same level of power (of course, that power may or may not be equally distributed among speed, strength, endurance etc... you know the drill).

-Any transformations / power boosts your characters have are available, as long as they have some kind of drawback / restriction (limited duration etc).

-Everything is allowed in this fight. You can bring with you into the arena any weaponry / items your character can carry (yes Niku, Itachi can have his armor >_>). You can use every move in your character's repertoire.

-This is a free-for-all fight (at least for now). That means, everyone fights everyone. However, you are free to form alliances etc at your leisure. Just remember that in the end, only one can win the prize.

-For now, your instructions are: fight each other until one falls. The survivors will proceed to the next round.

-Anything might happen during your fight. Be prepared for surprises - there will be many.

-The fight under these conditions will last indefinately, until one of you goes down or something else happens to interrupt it.

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Thousands upon thousands of faceless creatures now filled the previously empty seats of the colliseum, their figures clouded in a shroud of darkness, like shrewd judges, waiting for the contestants to enter the ring.

An eerie, faint green light emanating from no particular source illuminated the massive, plain circular arena where the deathmatch would take place. Currently, nothing in particular was visible that could potentially interest the fighters or influence their battle in any way.

It was all up to the four now. To fight, survive, and claim the prize for absolute victory.

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Forgive the lack of epicness and length for this post, I lack too much hatred right now to whip up something better.

As you can see, things start off pretty basic. A simple (albeit huge), plain, tournament-style arena where you all four fight against each other until the first one surrenders / drops unconscious / dies / is knocked off the arena (hard to achieve) / etc. Anyone can start, but avoid attacking until everyone has posted at least once. Also, avoid posting before all other three have posted in between (meaning, keep the original order).

This thread is for fighting only. Any discussions are to take place in the intro thread, but you can't RP in there any longer.

Good luck, and begin.

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Arros

And thus the king took the grand step. The first grand step up to the ring. The first step up to enter upon into the world that but few would venture into. Ganondorf stood motionless, crossed arm as his cape was the only thing that moved, even though no wind was made present in the vicinity. Or was it?

Something demonic and sinister was wrapping its icy hands around the Gerudo, and he took the wretchedness like a blanket. Relishing in its horrific discomfort. Nothing would stop him, he had come too far to lose. Hadn’t all of them?

Hadn’t each one thrived to become the almighty lord of everything. They, who at the pinnacle of their might, won? Won. A word known to few. A word achieved by few.
Now, it would mean everything, not just a word, but a representation.

It all begins here.

A deepening violet aura cast its shadows around Ganon’s feet, slowly rising before dissipating into the above. Eyes closed, and breath coming slowly. Yet, the smirk could not be depressed. He was here for one reason, and one reason only.

That was to prove to everyone, and everything that he was the best. That he stood on the mountain of power and conquered all. He was Ganondorf, King of Evil, Dark lord, the possessor of the Triforce. All those who stood in his path, fell. All those that saw him without question, bowed. In his mind, the three fighters were nothing more than heathens in his path.

Heathens brought down by the goddesses to have themselves thrown at his feet in mercy. If they decided to against their king, as he such believed, his arrogance. Well, countless people would tell…unfortunately they were not in a position to do so.

How could he lose? He who controlled vast creatures and minions.

How could he lose, he who brought terror to the breaking point.
“Hmhmhmhmhm…”

A low chuckle, deep and resonating in evil. It was as though something from the bowels of hell was being gurgled up.

And this laugh, ended…silently…as the Dark Lord awaited the petty challenges that approached his godliness.

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The Parodies never stop: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AyUDOhDscQw

JAIF

Uh, gaiz?

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Eragon

OOC: I’m sorry for lateness; I’ve had a bit of a flu the last few days, and then exams and shit made me too nervous to come up with anything good enough. Frankly, I’m doubt this is either, but, considering how long I’ve stalled already…
Sorry for taking so long, and I hope we can get this underway.

The demon kings laughter made no impression upon the man; in all fairness, nothing seemed to. Standing in the corner of the arena, his chest moved in and out slowly- rhythmically, and calming.

In comparison to the hook-nosed Garudo who had appeared, his own attire seemed rather plain, though that could easily apply for any comparison between him and the others. He did not present himself as the godly figure one might expect; rather, the gi he wore seemed to reflect a humble, modest devotion to the martial arts. Ripped at the ankles and shoulders, revealing raw, powerful muscles, it was nonetheless a clean pristine white, as though the wear and tear it had suffered over the years left no mark on his fighter’s spirit. A raven-coloured belt was tightly fastened about his waist, a short distance below the long, v-shaped ct in the cloth from his neck to his chest, which revealed a gut that was solid and tough, obviously the work of many years of training.

His face was calm, and quiet, with a serious expression etched upon it; this, however, was exactly what contributed to the “intense” aura floating around him. Close-cropped auburn hair floated around his bangs, with his head slightly bowed; chestnut eyes were focused upon the long strip of white cloth he had grasped in his hands, with no distractions.

‘Master Goken…’ he remarked silently to himself, without a change of expression, or any indication others had arrived; he seemed wrapped up in his own little world. ‘Am I worthy of this fight…?’

True the others, he was sure, had been surprised by their summoning to such a plane of existence, but he doubted any were as surprised as he had been. Such a prestigious event, between warriors of such awesome power, and yet here he was; not even a true fighter- not even close to such a level. Perhaps this battle, therefore, would be good for him; every fight, after all, was one more step on the road to achieving that dream.

Ryu’s grip upon the headband tightened as he snapped it like a whip, and a crack rang through the air, as though the fabric were going to break. Miraculously, it didn’t, amazing considering the sheer force that was obvious in the Ansatsuken users’ arms. Slowly, he grasped the headband-that was obviously what it was- in a pair of hands, the backs of which were covered by a thick, red material, similar to a boxing glove. Raising it to his forehead, he placed it against his skin, feeling it’s cooling touch wash over his spirit in a calming, refreshing sort of way. The invisible wind that half-wafted around Ganondorfs cape caught his headband also, almost before he had finished, and the long, tail end of it began to flutter. The archetypal wandering martial artist image… was it an archetype if it was who the person in question was?

With the bandana fastened in place, with only a few stray strands of hair collapsing over it, Ryu closed his eyes, and heaved a sigh, as though this had been something difficult. Slowly, he spread his bare feet apart, to shoulder-width, and tightened his hands into a fast, drawing his arms back slightly as he did. His muscles tightened, and an unperceivable change seemed to occur. His figure at once seemed even more serious and focused than before. The air around him seemed thick, and heavy as an invisible tension pressure exerted itself upon him, becoming more intense as he prepared himself. For all his claims to the contrary, this was no mere martial artist, for this was no mere contest, and these were no mere thugs that could be knocked down with a single punch. Perhaps he was not a true fighter (did such a state exist? He was sure it must) but regardless, this would, among other things, be a good learning experience.

Slowly, his eye lids slid open, glancing calmly over the King. With a slow, subtle nod, he lifted an arm to his ribs, the other at his side, and stood side on to his opponents, signalling he was ready for this fight. After all, his mind was not focused on winning or losing at this moment; it was the undertaking, the chance to himself through a good fight.

Surely that could be found in a confrontation with gods.

OOC:Usin’ Street Fighter Alpha Ryu, after some… technical difficulties with Envy.

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