[Nexus] Harnel's Plots

[C'nor]

Naera reaches out to gently lay a hand on the girl's shoulder, careful not to nick her with her claws as she does.

"I'm sorry. It was not my intent to scare or startle you; it was a reflex. And in that case, it is wholly intolerable...

I went through a similar experience at one time, as did several of the people I share a home with; if you think that they could be convinced to give you up, or don't care if they could or not, you could come stay with us? You would be treated far better, and I would be quite willing to train you to fight."

[Dark Elf Bard]

The tiefling just stares at her.

Oth-other people? She gulps.

I don't- I mean, I bet they wouldn't care...

[C'nor]

"Kind ones. All of them able to understand your pain, too. You have no need to fear them.

And in that case, the matter is settled; you can come to stay with us for as long as you wish to. Do you still want to participate in the tournament, or would you rather leave now, so that you will be assured of being well away before they return?"

[Dark Elf Bard]

She smiles, showing her pointed teeth. Are you sure?


No, no, I sill wanna do this.

[C'nor]

Naera smiles back, revealing that she has fangs as well, and nods.

"Entirely. Later, when we're not in such a public place, I'll tell you why; for now, I have to ask that you trust me when I say they would never harm you.

And in that case, what weapons do you use? I might be able to provide better versions, since I rather doubt they were willing to spend the money to outfit you properly..."

((And I have to head out for a bit. I'll be back soonish, though.))

[Dark Elf Bard]

I have these. She poors out two long kniSIZE="2"]Oth-other people?[/size]es that seem of normal quality.

And I can do this. She makes a small dancing flame appear in her ouststretched palm.

((Bye!@)

[C'nor]

"Well, they didn't skimp too much, at least...", Naera admits, albeit rather grudgingly, pulling out a knife similar to the ones that the girl has, though with a series of hooks on the blade, and a small spike on the pommel, as well as apparently being of better quality. "This should hold up better to some things, though. Magic, for instance.

And that's got to be a handy trick. Talina's going to want to have a look at you when we get back, if you can do stuff like that... Oh, and I almost forgot; don't worry if the knife talks to you. She'll give tips sometimes, but it actually is her, not a hallucination or something."

[The Bushranger]

[Harnel's Tournament]

Originally Posted by BladeofObliviom

Ouch. Jacob admittedly was not expecting her to be so relentlessly aggressive, and takes a rather nasty-looking wound to his right shoulder, though his left seems to have taken minimal damage. If she can see the wounds, she'll understand why: His left arm is made of the same silvery metal as his armor, and is actually prosthetic.

On the bright side for Lucy, her attempt to extricate herself from the blade will likely be aided by an enormously strong punch to the sternum with the mass of the shield concentrated onto the end of the prosthetic fist. While this probably isn't good for her ribs, or anything else for that matter, it definitely helps with that upward acceleration!

On the less bright side, the section of the sword that has already entered her body appears to have become covered in downward-facing barbs since the last post. Which is probably not pleasant, considering the aforementioned upward acceleration and the natural result of tearing dozens of barbs out through one's torso.

However, assuming that she manages to retain her composure and keeps upon this path, it takes Jacob nearly a full second to properly realign himself to fight an opponent who is behind him. This leaves an opening, if she has the strength and constitution to take it.

Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition! Even though Lucy is neither Spanish or an Inqusitor...but then again she's never metaphor she didn't like.

As it is, though, she takes a distinctly nasty wound from the barbed sword. Thank goodness for healing magic, otherwise that would leave a scarred area roughly the size of a Minecraft pork chop. She does, however, manage to avoid reacting audibly to the pain, just grimacing and stumbling as she lands, looking disctinctly woozy on her feet. Sudden traumatic injury and blood loss will do that to you.

...however she does manage to lunge torwards Jacob, both katanas spinning then thrusting forwards, aiming to turn him into an Opponent-ka-bob before Lucy collapses.

[BladeofObliviom]

[Harnel's Tournament]

...Damn, she is crazy! The strike catches him just as he's wheeling around to face her properly. He's fast enough to catch one of the attacks and throw it aside with his shield, but the previous wound to his sword-arm catches up with him and he fails to parry the second strike as he'd intended. The katana is nearly stopped against the strength of his reinforced Etherium armor, but manages to push through, skewering him through the lower torso and probably doing catastrophic damage to any intestines in the way. The sorcerer cries out in pain, as enough nerves are triggered to break his usual stoicism.

However, the armor seems to give way on the exit wound suspiciously easily, before suddenly hardening and attempting to seal the Katana into its current location, which might throw Lucy off guard when she can't move it anymore.

Meanwhile, Jacob's failed parry still manages a riposte, as the sword stretches several feet in an attempt to place itself snugly between her ribs and puncture both of her lungs. That is, the sword decides that it would be fun to bend and do what normal objects really have no business doing!

Note that he's not trying to finish her off, but render her incapable of continuing to fight; He has healing potions on hand if necessary.

[Dark Elf Bard]

Originally Posted by C'nor

"Well, they didn't skimp too much, at least...", Naera admits, albeit rather grudgingly, pulling out a knife similar to the ones that the girl has, though with a series of hooks on the blade, and a small spike on the pommel, as well as apparently being of better quality. "This should hold up better to some things, though. Magic, for instance.

And that's got to be a handy trick. Talina's going to want to have a look at you when we get back, if you can do stuff like that... Oh, and I almost forgot; don't worry if the knife talks to you. She'll give tips sometimes, but it actually is her, not a hallucination or something."

She grips the knife and turns it over in her hand.

Talina? Is that, um, someone, who?

The knife... talks? How?

[C'nor]

"She's a mage I know. Helped me and the other people I live with out of a bad situation at one point. As for how she talks, it's kind of hard to explain..."

At least, for those not the knife. However, the girl may hear a voice in her head as Naera trails off...

"I talk like this, little one. And my name is Passion, so I would appreciate that being used now that you know it... What is yours?"

[Dark Elf Bard]

Gah! She holds the knife tighter, a little surprised.

Um, hi Passion. My name is Blank.

[C'nor]

"Blank? Hm. Interesting. An ideal? Or simply a statement that you have not chosen what you are yet, to be discarded when you do? Though I suppose you could also be one of those who chose a name they seek to fight against...

Unless it was not your choice after all, perhaps?"

[Dark Elf Bard]

She shakes her head. My parents left a note with my name on it.

[C'nor]

"I see. Do you wish to be Blank, then? Or would you prefer a name with another meaning? Just because that is the name you were given does not mean you have to keep it, after all..."

[Dark Elf Bard]

She shrugs.

I dunno. Why would I want another one? I guess it meant something to my parents...

[Zefir]

Originally Posted by ThePhantom

"Having greater strength doesn't remove the need to train, in fact it can increase the need, to avoid crushing everyday items. And a magic weapon will do little good if you don't have the training to use a nonmagical form of that weapon. There is no substitues for constistant training."

Sure, people can magically add skill to themselves, but the skill won't last, only training will allow the skill to remain. That's why even in exile, Rogar still does a verision of his training at least once a day.

"With your lack of knowledge, it appears you need this school. I will remember that, should we end up fighting each other."

"It's still unfair, that's the fact."

The boy still looks at the screen.

[C'nor]

Originally Posted by Dark Elf Bard

She shrugs.

I dunno. Why would I want another one? I guess it meant something to my parents...

"So? Why does it matter if it meant something to them? If it doesn't mean something to you, I don't see why that should take precedence over your wishes."

[Dark Elf Bard]

Maybe. I guess it's just always how I've I've seen myself. Blank.

[C'nor]

"And why do you see yourself as blank? And in what ways?"

[Reinholdt]

[Judge's Box]

"So how long are we to let them actually try to kill each other before declaring a winner?" Ilpholin asks the other judges passively, as if the answer was completely inconsequential and utterly mundane.

[Harnel]

[Judge's Box]

"When one can't fight anymore or surrenders," Harnel says simply. The rules are against killing, and there's people standing by to administer healing potions, so serious injuries or no, there shouldn't be any deaths.

[The Bushranger]

[Harnel's Tournament]

Originally Posted by BladeofObliviom

...Damn, she is crazy! The strike catches him just as he's wheeling around to face her properly. He's fast enough to catch one of the attacks and throw it aside with his shield, but the previous wound to his sword-arm catches up with him and he fails to parry the second strike as he'd intended. The katana is nearly stopped against the strength of his reinforced Etherium armor, but manages to push through, skewering him through the lower torso and probably doing catastrophic damage to any intestines in the way. The sorcerer cries out in pain, as enough nerves are triggered to break his usual stoicism.

However, the armor seems to give way on the exit wound suspiciously easily, before suddenly hardening and attempting to seal the Katana into its current location, which might throw Lucy off guard when she can't move it anymore.

Meanwhile, Jacob's failed parry still manages a riposte, as the sword stretches several feet in an attempt to place itself snugly between her ribs and puncture both of her lungs. That is, the sword decides that it would be fun to bend and do what normal objects really have no business doing!

Note that he's not trying to finish her off, but render her incapable of continuing to fight; He has healing potions on hand if necessary.

I would say 'crazy like a fox', but that's the wrong family line...

Lucy gasps as the sword catches her, and for an instant she looks like she's ready to scream in sheer pain, but she manages to collect herself into merely a deep, horrible grimace.
"I...yield..."

[BladeofObliviom]

[Harnel's Tournament]

Yikes. With that, Jacob's helmet simply slides off, revealing a face that is neither excited nor disappointed, but simply solemn. The blade retracts from the wound inflicted with no further damage, and he immediately attempts to dose her with multiple healing potions, taken from the storage area within his armor. Hopefully those should stop the bleeding and fix the more life-threatening injuries.

"You fought honorably, if recklessly. It was an honor to duel you, and I apologize for the pain I must have caused."

With that, he attempts to carefully remove her Katana from his innards, and should be successful unless there's something that prevents him from doing so, before handing it back to her.

[Morty]

[Judge's Box]

"Looks like we have our first winner," Wenomir observes.

[Harnel]

[Harnel's Tournament]

A person in white a outfit rushes from the side of the arena, moving through a hidden door in the wall. He's carrying a pair of potions, one for each combatant, and he'll hand one to each. They smell of nutmeg, and should they be imbibed, will regenerate all the wounds dealt during the course of the battle over twenty seconds.

"Our Winner is Jacob!" Harnel says from the Judge's box, using the microphone again, "Please proceed back to the waiting room. Lucy, though you are now out of the tournament, you may choose to stay, either within the stands or returning to the waiting room." He looks down towards the Roster once more, before saying, "Our next combat will be between Rogar and Thelonius!"

Originally Posted by Shadowcaller

[Arcadia]

"Well, she got to be pretty darn weird already with all the big-boob illusions and stuff." The dryad replies with a shake of her head.
Then it's time to head down the cliff which apparently will result in a free fall with the dryad climbing up on his back before he starts to leap down the mountain. "Wee!" She exclaims before they let the cold winds guide them down the mountain in what normally would result in two very dead people.

But down they get and without even having been given the exact location, they are now in a marsh or perhaps a swamp which by the logic of this world seem to go by, must be the marsh of mourning.

It's as dark as it's name suggests with the trees actually having horrific shapes with holes resembling twisted eyes and mouths with their long branches sticking out like grasping arms. Ambience is added by the fact it's suddenly pitch black out, the sun having gone into hiding in favor of a rather ominous-looking moon with eyes and a mouth resting above the swamp surrounded by dark clouds that even they look like hideous creatures just waiting to devour the two.

[Arcadia]

Harnel looks at the moon skeptically, "Well, that's certainly somewhat creepy. Still like something out of a cheesy story though." He continues to move forward into the mire, regardless of it sucking at his legs; leeches can't get at him through his scales, and if his legs get stuck, he can fly out. He'll try to stick to dryer ground, though.

[Dark Elf Bard]

Originally Posted by C'nor

"And why do you see yourself as blank? And in what ways?"

I dunno. I guess, maybe, 'cause there's nothing that really stands out. I'm just, y'know, blank.

[ThePhantom]

Waiting Room

"Well, looks like its time."

Rogar twists the staff causing the flowers to retract into the staff, and puts it back in the box on his back. He stands up and walks out to the area, pulling out a green staff from the box.

He stands facing the entrance to the area, the edges of the clothe wrapped around his head blowing in the breeze out here. He'll worry about Ilpholin, he has a fight to win.

[OrchestraHc]

Waiting Room

"Haha! Righto," the hare-eared man says as he skips out of the room. He puts on his fencing mask, his ears sticking out of the top, and brandishes his steel foil. Looking at Rogar, he politely bows and enters his stance, bouncing his weight lightly from footpaw to footpaw. "So sir, your choice. How would you like to go about it? By submission or first to however many points? Not to sway you, but as a fencer, I'm quite partial to the more gentlemanly option. Keeps everyone fighting honest. Not that it stops some from trying. Why, once when I was young cadet an opponent had the gall to sprinkle thorns on my side of the ring, in an official tournament, no less. Well I tell you, when it comes to gritting your teeth and baring it no one takes it in the chin- er foot paw- better than Thelonious Q. Greyfoot!"

Rogar may want to answer soon, otherwise he's just going to keep talking.

Really.

He will not stop.

[C'nor]

Originally Posted by Dark Elf Bard

I dunno. I guess, maybe, 'cause there's nothing that really stands out. I'm just, y'know, blank.

"Hm... I see. So this is something that will change as you gain experiences and skills, then?"