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Thread: The Way of the Warrior - Lobby

  1. #1
    King Black Space Jesus Rilla's Avatar
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    The Way of the Warrior - Lobby

    The Lobby



    The victor of the first Way of the Warrior. He goes by a name no longer, it having been forgotten. He is simply known as The Warrior
    By Tanaka


    Rules of the Lobby

    Fashionably Late:
    Before your first fight, you must post here before your first fight. If not, then you are technically not even arrived to the tournament, and thus at risk of disqualification via no-show.
    You can only post in here after your character has been accepted, a list of which can be found in the OOC.

    The Art of Sabotage:
    You can only sabotage a competitor that has arrived at the Lobby.
    Direct damage on a opponent in the lobby area and all associated places, outside of the actual rounds is disallowed.
    No killing outside of the rounds.
    Four day response limit. This means real-time. If you do not reply appropriately and in time, then the sabotage will take full effect.
    No metagaming. Blatant offenses triggers the sabotage automatically, no matter what.

    Other Assorted knick-knacks:
    I will not be participating in the IC, past this post, meaning you handle all NPC interactions that you need.
    If you manage to take fell an opponent, you may take one of their weapons/items with you to the next round. This applies to all rounds, aside from the final, meaning it is possible to enter the final round with two additional armaments. These may or may not be bobby-trapped.
    Watch what you write, you are not allowed to edit posts or delete them, if a person has posted after you.
    Memoirs of a Victor

    It has been so long ago that I had entered that place; the place the spoke of the future and had the technology to prove it. It was as if, the host, ‘The Liaison’, he called himself had come from the future to test the best fighters of my time. I won that tournament, but promised never to enter again. A promising upstart, the man had deemed me, as I fought my way through the tournament and prevailed at the end. But what had been the cost? The amount of blood that had been shed could have filled a lake and still had overrun. The nightmares still continue.

    Even now as I scribble these words and near my final breath, I can remember the eloquence of the man as he approached me and offered me a chance to compete, a chance I eagerly jumped at. By some strange magic, which in our time was rare and was not prominent in the tournament if used at all, he brought me to the lobby, which was situated in a place that he said was ‘Forgotten by Reality.’ At first, I didn’t know what he meant and part of me didn’t want to find out. I was not the first one there, evident by the vast array of fighters that had been gathered for the tournament. They ranged from barbarians to Vikings, and all things in between.

    The man, The Liaison, appeared before us all and promised us our due reward for winning; an even bigger tournament, but that was for one tournament only and this one was not it, the second tournament held later in the year was for that. As he spoke, in a way that we could all understand, he pointed out several features. We each were afforded our own rooms, for rest and relaxation, to the west, as well as a place for free food, to the north, and something called Restoration Chambers, to the east, wherein after battles we could go and restore the majority of our damage back to a respectable state. As you can probably imagine, the toughest of the men didn’t like this notion and threatened to harm Liaison for insinuating such a thing; he promptly told them he could not be touched and demonstrated why -- The Man was nearly a God, he truly could not be touched. There were also Teleportation Devices, to the south, in place to take us to our battlefields; they'd drop us off in different places, just not far from our opponent.

    He described the outside of the building, as a rather large dome that seemed smaller than it truly was. There were monitors on the inside located of the lobby that corresponded to each of the potential battlegrounds, that played the battle from beginning to end and then showed highlights, in case we wanted to study up on potential opponents battle styles. I rarely made use of this feature, it seemed below me.

    Finally he ended his speech and offered us a word of advice. There are no friends here, there are no enemies. There are only those who seek what you seek, to be the man or woman who is crowned Warrior, and the inaugural champion of The Way of the Warrior. When you step into your battles, disregard all emotion, all feeling, and slice your way to the top, that is the way of the Warrior, and that is how it shall always be.

    We were not visited by him again until just before the finals, wherein he revived all the fallen competitors and stationed them in a place where they could watch the finals. It was me and a man named Adinraen Barriurden, a peculiar fellow. The match lasted longer than any before and I walked away the victor; soaked in a mixture of elven and human blood. What I had seen had been brutal, and I promised to never return for a repeat performance. Instead, I chose to leave my memoirs here, as a package deal when The Liaison offered spots to future combatants.

    The tournament of The Way of the Warrior is not for the faint of heart or good of soul; it is a tournament where men and women become ambiguous beasts of battle and leave their souls behind as payment. I, shall forever stalk the world and train my sword to kill the man known as The Liaison, in an effort to end the tournament once and for all.

    From reports and whispers that I have gathered on my travels, which have spanned several centuries, the tournament has remained the same, everything as it were the day I set out to become the Warrior.
    Last edited by Rilla; 09-20-2011 at 12:11 PM.
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    The Finely Endowed Lord Rilla Pythonicus, Archduke of the Black Coast and Lord of the Serpent Port.
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  2. #2
    the Unyielding Knight Zamokra41's Avatar
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    A bright blue cicular portal appeared in the center of this strange place. From the portal, a figure shrouded in shadows appeared, stepping out of its blueish glow, with each step this figure took, the very air around him felt cold like it would be the middle of winter. Soon enough the portal closed with a flash, the newcomer now opened his eyes, they were shining with a bright icy blueish color, similar to the portal from where he came.

    Silas raised his head and began to look around, he wondered what sort of magic was that which has brought him here. He has seen teleportations and gateways to distant locations but, this place felt....diferent. The temperature around him was very low, almost as if a breeze of winter would constantly surround him making his dark blue cape and his silvery gray hair wave around gently and each of his breaths could be seem like a thick steam flowing from his nose and mouth.

    Looking to his right and to his left, Silas saw that he was alone....for the moment. Resting both of his arms on the hilts of his 2 sheated swords, he decided to wait and see what would happen. Silas feintly recalled how he came here, it seemed that passing through the portal has also placed some sort of strange magic in his mind making him forget who brought him here and how he came, but he knew why he was here.

    Silas closed his eyes again and whispered a few words that echoed around the hollow halls of this eerie place, "And so it begins"
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  3. #3
    ؂؂؁؃؂؁؀ Wind's Avatar
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    Enter the fog. Like a ghost, it rolled in unexpectedly, shrouding much of the lobby in a new and much more eerie atmosphere. A cloud, if anyone could recognize it by its serene white hue, and fluffy looking texture. It fortified at one point, to which almost no man or woman would be able to actually see beyond the veil it produced. It blended in quite well with the chilly presence Silas had already imbued unto the lobby.

    After a moments passing, a shadow seemed to emerge from the thick cloud. A face and robes passed through, unveiling what seemed to be a monk. But of all people, why would a monk come to a place like this? A place of mundane intention, and glorified bloodlust.

    An odd entrance, if anything. This monk seemed to not understand how to be subtle. His power would be given away even before he entered a battle. Sitting upon a concentrated raigumo cloud under his own control, the monk floated in to the lobby with ease, assuming a meditative stance the entire time. Upon reaching the front desk he levitated himself further up via the floating cloud, and addressed the clerk respectfully.

    "Salutations, madam! I have come to register for the tournament. My name? I am Aizen, headmaster of the Kasumoya monks. You know my name means 'to hover gently like clouds.' Quite an appropriate title, don't you think?" Aizen's reserve was much less than that of most monks, he had already begun to literally flirt with the female clerk, who smiled and tried to avoid flirting while on duty. The supervisors here were not the kind to be angered.

    "Well that's settled, Mr. Aizen. You're the first to register in the tournament, but not the first to arrive. You can request an escort to your personal quarters, or wait in the lobby to study your possible opponents." The clerk explained calmly, while successfully biding through the monk's attempts.

    Aizen looked around to see a man who chilled the edges of his fog. Silas stood a few meters behind the monk, with an aura around him that screamed 'I control cold things.' Aizen smiled at the fellow as if confused, before allowing his little nimbus cloud to drift following his new escort. He would soon find himself guided to a large suite in the western wing, would be his for the duration of the tournament.

    "Ahhh, excellent! Please call upon me when I am needed in the arena. And take this stipend as my thanks." Aizen would place a small pouch full of coins in the hands of this tour guide, who thanked and bowed kindly. Though when she opened the bag, she had to firmly hold back from showing her nuisance from a sum of coins too foreign to be exchanged here.

    For the next while, Aizen would spend his spare time simply meditating, while sitting cross-legged upon his raigumo cloud. Soon, the fruits of his intense training would be properly tested.

  4. #4
    Bitch Queen GrievousKhan's Avatar
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    A flash of light and a moment later there stood a figure warped in desert cloth and adorned in a long black cloak. It wore a cowl pulled so far over it's head it's face was indiscernible. On his back was a massive urn, it's contents unknown and kept closed by a single cork and tied to him by iron chains. It had a humanoid shape and moved with gentile ease as it stepped out from the magic device that had brought it here, despite the huge Urn on its back. The hooded cloaked figure made it's way to the center of the large room, it's iron chains rattling as if announcing his arrival, and looked to either side.

    He spotted one other already here. Good.

    More were bound to come The Phantom knew and the more the better. For his mission to become successful he would need many more...souls.
    His master, The mighty Undead king known simply by many as The Bone King, had sent The Phantom here but for one reason and it was to acquire the fighting sprites of those involved in this years tournament. Of course be defeating them each, which was why The Phantom had been chosen. Normally the Necroloth would have been sent but after substantial damage in a battle some months ago he was still was recuperating and The Red Raven was to busy else were. Hence it had fallen on the Phantoms shoulder's to steal a number of powerful souls. To which the Bone King would then use in brand new vessels, perhaps to complete Necroloth into the true being it was meant to be.

    Whatever the purpose of them The Phantom would need to take each, but before he could do anything one important detail need taking care off first. He walked up to the counter and after a moment of silence it spoke about one word in a rispy voice.

    Phantom



    ^^Credited to Silux, the Mighty God Emperor!!^^

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  5. #5
    Delightfully Evil Lyzan's Avatar
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    Eyelids fluttered opened and it began focusing on it's whereabouts. Clouds of vapor puffed from it's mouth as it breathed heavily. The thick dark red of his cloak waved as if blown by strong gust of wind before it settled. In the main lobby, the beast stood. In a posture ready to pounce on the heaps of energy sources from all around it. It's head turned here and there before it realized and recalled on where it was now at. The eclipsed eyed beast scanned the occupants within. A grin carved across it's hidden face. So many warriors to feast upon. So vast of an opportunity given to it. Indeed this was promising, the beast thought. A low growl of excitement escaped it's lips.

    Magic weren't in it's favor but for this event, it'd made an exception. The gladiator allowed itself to be transported here by the strange magic. Allow itself to be presented before the tournament it'd heard about. The chance to meet many skilled warriors. Many had it encountered and most had been worthy but none have yet given it the satisfaction of a fight to remember. The promised tournament here might give it what it sought. So too might the promised greater tournament held.

    The rise and fall of the cloak, draped over it's shoulder was rapid. As if the beast knew no calm. As if it was always angry. It's fist unwrapped slowly as it stalked closer to the female behind a counter. Reaching a hand into it's cloak, a scroll was taken out. It laid the scroll over the registeration counter before it began moving northwards silently. Not one for idle chatter, the beast let the rolled up deer hide to tell the lass of it's name.

    She took the scroll with trembling hands. The approach and the nature of this participant was rare. The kind of vibe she'd never before encountered. There was killing intent in this one and even she, who're not trained in the arts of combat could sense it. Fear swelled within her hearts when her eyes momentarily looked into the glowing pair of eclipse from under the hood. This one's here for the kills. There was nothing friendly about the glare she'd witnessed. Her heart palpitated as she unrolled the scroll. An ink of blood written across it. It was the gladiator's name, Lyzan Fury.

    Sat on a bench before its platter of meat, it began feasting. Tearing the piece of meat like the savage beast it was. As barbaric, yet no food were let to waste. It devoured the mount of meal while it's eyes scanned the rest of the participants within the feasting chamber. It wasn't certain if it gets to meet any of these warriors but what it knew, was to simply wait until it's turn came. It was well aware of the rules and thus, as much as it wanted to tear into the flesh of those around it, the beast restrained itself with much difficulty. Every pass it make by with another warrior, it wanted to tear throats out. It wanted to deliver it's seasoned fist onto the very face. Yet, it contained itself. It held the intriguing temptation within. A smoldering rage.

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  6. #6
    LOL I GOT OWNED Banned
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    Transcestint echos of madness loomed, the beat of old fashion wardrums echo. He was forced to listen to this annoying thing alot. Stuck in the realm of the Incubus's and Succubus's. Which, of course was seperated between two different sides of the realm.
    Standing five foot eleven. The male was waiting for some stupid fool to summon him, finaly the call was unleashed. He didn't know the reason, a flash of dark light surrounded him. He nearly grinned at who the person was that summoned him.

    Dark magical lights formed him in a strange place. His crimson eyes looking around wondering where exactly he was, soon after he sensed other beings there. Some strong some moderatly strong. It was a strange thing, everything was a tad bit cold to him. Though being a demon he wouldin't feel this all that much, he lifted up a gloved left hand. Presenting it palm up, as he saw spects of small bits of snow hit it. Not enough to cover the ground. He ended up haveing a scroll in his right hand soon after, again magic. He opened it studing the contents, he was chosen for some strange tournament. Very well he thought. Could do well to take place, he closed it carefuly then approached the counter, to him. He saw a beautiful looking woman at the reception desk, to bad he didn't have any time for fun.

    He placed the scroll on the desk. The woman just glanced at him, and he could tell she was shivering with hidden pleasure, all he had to do was say something and she would probably feint. She was abit weak minded he could tell, human. He turned, walking off. Being an Incubus, he had overmtaching thing over women. It was to much fun, he passed by several of the warriors. His demonic scent being lead away, the scent of one of the weridest, quite powerful demons in hell. The very lustful demon breeds.

    Fine clothing fitted his musculer body, feint traces of wire on his gloves, that would be mistake for extra coating to make the gloves, more fashionable. Midnight colored hair flowed down his back, to the bottom of his neck. The click of his cowboy style boots hit the marble tile, he walked with a purpusful stride. He wanted more souls for his lustful collection, his hunger grew slightly every time he saw an attractive woman. This needed to be sated, by an enemies death.
    Last edited by Killerclover; 09-16-2011 at 08:33 AM.

  7. #7
    The Overlord yoshua171's Avatar
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    Nature's representative

    Soria of the forest
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    His glistening green eyes cold as ice, the man: Soria, arrived in the lobby. Having already signed himself up he let a single, almost amused sound escape his lips. This would be just another of his acts against the human race, or rather any other sentient race in general. They were all pathetic scum in his eyes and as he walked by humans and other humanoid races he made it a point to ignore their gazes and in general, their existence.

    He would make sure to kill any who attempted to mess with him or at least, he would kill his challengers on the arena. However he knew himself not to be the strongest being present, but he was among those to beware of and that was enough. Finding a couch occupied by a few women he walked towards it. 'Feeble minded humans', he thought to himself as he walked towards them. Putting a smile and a pleased look in his eyes, he approached the humans. "Greetings ladies, would you mind if I sat here?" he said sounding cheerful. He almost shuddered as they looked at each other and giggled.

    In truth Soria was utterly disgusted with their very appearances, let alone how they acted. Scooting to the sides and showing a seat inbetween the small group of women, he sat. Smiling at them and reaching out his arms and putting them around the shoulders of the girls next to him he beamed his smile and then, looking over to the one on his right he whispered "You look delicious." His voice would have been seductive if he hadn't actually wanted to devour the woman whole. Her eyes widened and she stood looking at him with an angry glare.

    He only shrugged his shoulders innocently and then small tendrils of green crept their way out from his robes and quickly grabbed the small dagger that the woman had insolently thrown at him. Just as soon as it had immerged the tendril disappeared into his robes having been undetected by sight. "Ah ah ah~, Save the battle for the arena." The women only narrowed her eyes and turned stalking away angrily. He would keep up his act in an attempt to trick them into thinking him fickle, and quite simple in nature, it was for the better of his plans. However, he knew he would need a good purification after such close contact with these disgusting humans.

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  8. #8
    ϟϟ Draigh's Avatar
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    “Amaterasu…” He heard from lips that hadn‘t graced his ears in near a decade, the dancing tendrils of lighting illuminating the night sky forcing him remember the last time that he stood before The Mother, herself. He remembered it so vividly. Her chambers within the clouds were empty, and a private summons had been called for him. As he entered the room the very same kind of lighting danced over the walls, through the ceiling, and beneath their feet through the floor. It was beautiful, really, the way the divine light split walls apart only to have the very same walls close over their wounds. Not a sound was produced, no thunder… just light. It was divine, truly a symbol of The Mothers power, and the fact that the very same deadly forces swirling around him chose not to end him was a symbol of The Mothers love. Well… that, and that she had invited him to her chambers unaccompanied. He’d been a guard before, for near a century, and had never been asked to let anyone see her alone.

    “My child…” She said. Her voice held an authority of which none could compare; it wasn’t a strong tone however, more soft and understanding. “I have called you to me for one reason, and one alone. Over all of your brothers and sisters, there are very few that I have come to trust as much as I do you.” Amaterasu stood in silence before his mother as she spoke, taking in every word. “It is with this trust, my beloved son, than I must tell you that you are no longer to live with us in the storm.” As much as it hurt Amaterasu to hear that, he simply closed his eyes and nodded his head, awaiting to hear her next words. “You are leaving with great, great honor,” her voice called out again with a new sense of vitality.

    He was confused for a moment, unsure what she was speaking of, but sure enough she answered his questions before his lips had a chance to move. “In ages past, we’ve done war with the morals and we have survived… but we have never known glory, my child.” This was true, he thought. They had fought and defended their mother against the ignorant masses of mortals that - when against the unknown - are inclined to swing first and ask questions later. But never had they left their home; not that they particularly wanted to, but other people were respected to some extent and given refuge on the world below. Those born of the storm though, they were ostracized and they didn’t even know it. She looked at him, her pearly teeth glittering through a wide smile. “You, one among my strongest sons, will go and bring honor to our kind. You will show them our power in your own way, you must show them the strength of the storm, my son. Do you accept?”

    The answer was obvious. How could it not be? Of course he accepted his task. If he hadn’t, he wouldn’t be where he was now. The lighting eventually ceased its dance in the sky, and Amaterasu faded from his trance, shaking off the nostalgia. He missed his home, but honor wasn’t something earned by hiding. It was something gained by victory. Over the many years he had walked the earth, he had fought in several different combat circuits but never had he attempted to take on such a grand challenge. He had become a lesser known warrior, one of whom was suitable for something that had the potential to be a rather large bloodbath. It offered fame, a name world renown, and to Amaterasu that was a ticket home. If the world respected him, and by association his kind, he would be welcome back into the heavens with open arms.

    With this knowledge in mind, and lightning illuminating his path, he pressed onward. It wasn’t long at all, or it didn’t seem like a terribly long time, until he seemed to hit something of an invisible wall. It was curious, like a force field before him, and he didn’t entirely know what to do about it. He couldn’t get around it, obviously… Amaterasu sighed and brought up one hand, smacking his palm against the door. One of the blades at his hip, the grip wrapped in a crystal blue colored fabric, began to vibrate eerily against the other. He looked down to it, nodded, then back to the barrier. “It’s this way, I know it is… bu-”

    He wasn’t even able to finish his sentence. Soaked with water that fell from the storm, thunder rumbling the earth beneath his feet, Amaterasu found himself being surrounded by a hazy blue light. He watched it wrap around him and form a secondary barrier around him. He pushed against it to no avail, not paying attention to the vast change in scenery beyond the barrier as he escaped. He’d never been teleported anywhere before. In an instant the barrier let up and he had to stop himself from stumbling forward. Taking a deep breath, his steel eyes opened and looked around. He was in some sort of a futuristic room. The walls were white, there were windows surrounding the roof that showed the skies. As long as Ama was there, they’d see no blue… just the looming, dark clouds ahead.

    He perused the room, taking in every detail that he could manage. The other blade on his hip, the hilt bound in a lighter almost electric blue, began to hum. It was crossed over the darker blue hilt by a small margin, leaving room for both to be securely locked into place. He nodded down at it, then looked up. “I guess… we’re here.” Amaterasu sighed. He was tired, worn out, fatigued, and had traveled for may days to find this place.

    Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a woman staring at him with an awkward glare. Water was rolling off of him, dripping onto the floor, but he didn’t much care. That’s probably why she was so put off by him. With a sigh, he nodded and realized that she was behind a desk. He rather quickly assumed that she must be in charge of keeping track of the competitors, making sure they’ve arrived safely an assured them a room to their own. He wouldn’t stay in a room, though. Amaterasu would more likely grab a long couch and move it beneath a window so he could see the storm, watch the dance of the lightning.

    With a gentle smile, he approached her, still ignoring the water. First appearances meant a lot, and he wasn’t making a very good one. For starters, his hair was wet and sticking to his face, his usually light green kimono was a few shades too dark from being soaked in water, and aside from two blades at his hip, a third - though no crease in the kimono showed a blade at all - hilt stuck out from the right side of the Kimono, crossing over his chest. Its hilt was wound in a light green color. So, aside from being soaked, almost stumbling from a portal, and arriving looking like a mess, he was doing fairly well…

    When Amaterasu made it to the desk, he bowed to the woman and spoke his name in a gentle tone; “Teruko, Amaterasu... ma’am.” Respect was a heavily valued virtue among his unknown people. The Mother, obviously female, portrayed women as the source of life. When they radiated an aura of femininity, a man of his kind would almost automatically become more reserved around her, treat her with more respect. In some cases, they would even stand up and defend a good woman if another person so much as talks to them in a rude manor. That’s just the way they were. She looked up at him, returned the smile - possibly reminded that her job title included the slogan ‘service with a smile,’ by the smile Amaterasu gave her - and pointed around the room with the back of her pen.

    “The area to your left is the regeneration chambers, you’ll report there if you so choose after a round to heal any major wounds and become revitalized. Past the chambers, you’ll find the monitor hall. There is one monitor per contestant. They will be used if you so chose, as well, to watch your opponents fights - or the highlights at least - and learn a bit more about them before engaging in battle with them. It will help you a whole lot, probably. As you can see, this is a general lounge area, but past the hallway to the right is a cafeteria, and there will be a staircase at the back of the cafeteria that leads up to your temporary living areas. Good luck out there!”

    She was a kind girl, at heart. His swords told him that. At any rate, he was here now and he wouldn’t be leaving until the last opponent had fallen to his blade. Speaking of which, he found that after long hours of travel storing one in a tunic made for a very uncomfortable posture, so he slid his hand into the kimono and wrapped his fingers around the sheath to the green-hilted Katana and pulled it up. He brushed past a few people in the room, too tired to care about looking around to get to know them or analyze them at all. He found a spot in the corner of the lounge area, a corner surrounded by windows. Amaterasu smiled gently, taking a deep breath as he untied the two blades from his hip as well.

    With a light heave, he sat down and crossed his legs in front of him. He also Sat both blue hilted weapons down beside him while carefully unsheathing the green-hilted blade. Teruko placed the sheath to the right of his body on the ground, opposite the other two blades, and very carefully inspected the cutting edge of the blade. The first thing he would do, before all else, was check every square centimeter of each weapon to ensure they hadn’t sustained any damage in travel. No matter how powerful, a damaged weapon was weak and weak weapons have no place in battle.




  9. #9
    Patronus Pro Populo Amphibian's Avatar
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    Out of nowhere another combatant would appear. He had no reason to be here, but yet he was. Nanatsu Senju wasn't familiar with any of the people in the Lobby. With that being said, Nanatsu just stood in the corner of the room, secluded from the rest of the group. The reason that he was there was to fight. That means that there is no point in speaking to any of the people there.
    You know what the best thing about being a Mercenary? I know what you guys are thinking, it's the money? Right? No, it's not. Hell, I love money like the guy next to me, but that's not what gets me going. It maybe all of the fine babes that come my way, but nope. It's the Chimichangas. Boy, I love me some chimichangas. Do you know I can say Chimichangas in six different languages!
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  10. #10
    Bitch Queen GrievousKhan's Avatar
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    The sound of two stones brushing against one another could be heard as Zubili had been witness to the on called Soria. The Phantom walked form the shadow of the corner she he could be clearly seen, still with his sand brown cloak and hood, the latter of which was drawn so far over his head it completely hid his face in darkness.

    "A nice little...performance." It said in an almost mocking manner.

    It shifted closer, just out of the shadow of the corner, to the opposite side of the table that sate before couch the forest being was seated. Like most Undead specters he could sense that his one was no human regardless of appearance.

    "Ah but I sense you are no mortal," He said cryptically while he walked by.

    The Phantom could indeed sense the spiritual power of this foe, and it was good. He hoped he would have the chance to face this one. Such strength would serve his master well.


    ^^Credited to Silux, the Mighty God Emperor!!^^

    “Life is change, chaos, filth and suffering. Death is peace, order, everlasting beauty.”




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