Crimson Flag Comic Forums
Other Realms => Role Play Theater => Topic started by: Shifting Sands on June 11, 2012, 10:52:33 AM
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Kain finishes applauding after seemingly having his eyes elsewhere on some other match, and looks down over the arena where Trubbol and a human in gaudy robes and jewelry. He wipes a tear from his eye, looks at the two fighters, and explains "Oh, what a glorious match. Too bad you'll never see it. BUT FOR NOW -"
The demonic figure sweeps his hand across the arena in front of him, pulling up giant pillars with mirrors all across their surfaces. Many of them are cracked, dirty, and bloodcaked, but still can reflect the ground, the fighters, and even other pillars.
"While some of you may have read up on Trubbolsworth, we bring to you an older fighter, one who has survived and left once before!" Kain cries out. "Hailing from Britain, 1818, in the greatest of alternate universes, the Gods bring you Phonay, the Grand Illusionist, with mastery of combat and trickery alike!"
Phonay grins to Trubbol and waves yet another mirror at him, one reflecting a red laser.
"FIIIIIIGHT!"
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Trubbol blinked and stared at the man, and then looked back up at Kain with a puzzled expression, his ears drooping a bit. "Illusssin.... illuuuuuusion..." He fumbled with the word a bit and his ears perked up as he jumped away from the laser.
"That word means not real stuff... right?" He pulled out his monkey wrench. "So will any of his illusseeo---not real things actually hit me at all?" The small mammal charged headlong at the Human, hoping he was right.
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Phonay stands still, holding the strange grin, and continues to reflect the laser into Trubbol's eyes and reaches into his robe pocket, pulling out the handle of some weapon.
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Trubbol falls over mid-run grabbing his eyes as he rolls on the ground, the metal wrench falling to his side. Pulling himself up he reaches to grab a new weapon himself and ends up taking out a loaf of sliced bread with delicious olive oil and spices cooked into it!!!!
Staring down at the item, he shrugs and looks at the Illusionists weapon.
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The illusionist grins and takes out a dusty old weapon with strange flashy tubes coming off its sides, looking like a sidearm but also like a sewer system at the same time. He points the weapon down at Trubbol's head. Each of the mirrors around the scene reflect it perfectly.
"You can surrender now, and let me get my wish," Phonay says and pushes the weapon further. "What do you think?"
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Trubbol responds by grinding a slice of bread in his hands and throwing crumbs of bread at Phonay's face, and more importantly his eyes. "I g-got a special wish and nobodies gonna take it from me!" He looked a bit more determined then before, his red eyes practically glowing with a momentary sense of resolve.
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"Agh!" Phonay wipes his eyes with his sleeves and fires the weapon erratically, shooting a white-hot ball off of many of the mirrors. He grumbles once he can see again, and then disappears right as the ball comes back to hit him in the chest.
"At least I've already gotten to see your brain," his voice calls through the arena. "Now I know exactly what to summon up..."
He cackled.
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Trubbol pulls his hatchet out and looked around the room, wondering to himself what he would summon up. An enemy from the past? He does not think he could stand to see some people, recalling a green eyed monster. He thought to himself and speculated as he held his polished blade aloft.
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(just a bit of mumbling on this one)
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Phonay cackles louder, and walks out from behind one of the mirror pillars, bringing behind him a vague, but clearly green-eyed giant figure. He holds up his gun toward Trubbol again and offers him another chance to surrender.
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Trubbol stared at the creature and blinked. "Is that Mal..... no.. doesn't look quite like him..." Trubbol thinks to himself again. I hope he does not summon confetti.... The boy slowly moves towards where his wrench was.
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Phonay seems to lean in to an invisible person whispering a deep secret, and then smiles as the figure behind him spurts out confetti onto Trubbol.
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Trubbol cracks up laughing and picked up his wrench, swinging it dramatically as he pointed it towards Phonay. "You talk to much! Telling me you can see my brain was a bad move mister! And you made the first vague thought in my head pop up right after I think it!"
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Phonay grumbles, but doesn't waste any more time and summons up hordes of himself, circling all around Trubbol. Each holds the same strange looking weapon, and all of them reflect in the mirror pillars. Each one fires the weapon, and 50 copies of burning bullets head straight for his opponent.
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Trubbol does not waste time running from the spot he was in, charging as a group of Phonays weapons first. And Hoping he does not get hit by the real one. Now he was down to gambling while he thought of a way past this.
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All of the Phonays continue to keep shooting and whacking Trubbol with their guns, though none seem to connect yet, and none of them look any more agitated about that fact than another. The illusionist definitely seems good enough at keeping his poker face.
While all of them continue to try and fight, a large shadow sweeps over the arena, with definite wing shapes on the sides. A piercing scream echoes across the arena as the shadow grows bigger...
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He ignores the shadow for a bit and switches items, pulling out his jar of mayo. Opening the jar he threw it at the Phonays, hoping they were all illusions and the white goop would only cling to one of them. After preforming this action he looked up at the shadow.
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The mayonnaise does pass right through the illusions; every single one, revealing that none of the Phonays on the ground were real. Up above, though, is a giant steampunk looking ship, readying a giant, steampowered turret. The shadows beneath it shift and swirl...
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Trubbol stares up at the machine and sighs. "How do I get up there?" He paced around the Arena. And tried imagining Phonay surrendering... and hula girls.
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The laser keeps charging up, and the shadows gather all around Trubbol, darkness blotting out most of the light...
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He sighed. "I really did not want to use this till later..." Trubbol pulled out a potion he had bought from Kenku and took a long swig of it drinking about half of the potion. He fell over and began to twist and contort. Fur became replaced by red scared and he grew larger and larger... Batlike wings spread out behind him and his clothing was town to shreds as he turned into a large dragon, a firedrake to be precise.
The new Dragon leaped up and started flying towards the ship, all the while whining in his head that his was not his style.
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The airship hovers, and the shadows gathering around Trubbol disperse. The laser, however, hums dangerously and begins to fire.
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/me Trubbol flies past the fire, clenching his teeth as he feels the deadly heat just missing him, and crashes into the ship headlong. He clings to it and claws at it with a roar "I was saving this for the crazy samuari!!!"
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On the top of the ship, there's... no one. And in the cockpit of the ship... no one.
And as it turns out, it's another illusion.
But it doesn't matter to Phonay, who aims carefully from the top of a mirrored pillar and fires a bullet at the dragon's chest.
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The dragon makes a flurry of desperate movements before spiraling back to the ground and crashing loudly. Trubbol was shot! He lays there still breathing and his eyes start to close.
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Phonay slowly floats down from the pillar and stands over Trubbol, holding the gun over the dragon's head while he stands atop him. "Now, one last time; you can surrender, or you can die right here. I know what you want to wish for. And I know Tonbo is waiting for you. Does he want you to die?"
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The dragon slowly... flapped a torn wing with a bullet lodged in it. He leaps Back to life and pounces at the Illusionist and swipes a claw at the gun. "How is this for an answer? How is this for a magic trick!?"
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Phonay yells and loses the gun, but pulls another identical one from his pocket. "Don't try that again! I'll shoot and finish the job!"
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"Right."
Tired of the tricks and the illusions, the big red dragon opens his mouth and lets loose a stream of fire at the Phonar.
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Phonay screams and flails around, but doesn't have anymore tricks up his sleeve. He continues to burn... and falls on his back, a charred piece of cloth and metal.
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Trubbol did his best to try and put the fire out, but stared down and sighed. His stutter was coming back, he was tired and a little shocked from the fight. “R-right now I am ten times your size and made completely out of muscle and scaled armor, a swing of a limb might throw you across the room limp as a doll, and I can send an inferno f-from my mouth!" He began to get woozy and shook his head. "W-why did we have to k-keep going at it l-like that..." He began to shrink, the potion losing effect. "W-why did I..." The wound from his wing shifted onto his furry shoulder as the now naked canine fell to his knees. His hatchet and wrench over in the corner, and his bag face down with it's contents spilled. "I j-just had to win... I w-want to meet my parents..."
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Kain snaps his fingers and floats Trubbol from the arena up into the stands, next to some caretakers who immediately start on taking care of the bullet wound. "Can't have our entertainment dying on us," Kain explains with another grin, and disappears. A tray of relics takes his place, which is brought over to Trubbol by another mortal. "Your calling card for a God," he explains. "Pick."
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He grabbed a smaller Relic and looked down. "C-could I have some new c-clothes please? I-i wish not t-to disrespect n-no one..." He stopped talking, looked to what was his opponent, and shook his head and drifted into unconsciousness.
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One of the caretakers wraps Trubbol up in a blanket of linen, patches his bullet wound, and then carries him off to his own room through a wall. The nurse of a sort makes sure to keep the relic pressed tight up against Trubbol.