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Definitely a work in progress, suggestions welcome.

Looks fun.

I'll shoot for either the Wood Elves, or the Norse-Dwarves.


If you decide on Wood Elves, maybe we could have some shared history?
Yep. They also worshipped corrupted Forest Spirits called Pagans, hence the name.
I might do my variation of Dark Elves, the Pagan Elves.


It's good to hear this might be coming back. But just a thought; wouldn't it be simpler to just stay to the "Warhammer but not really" flavor instead of the "Set in Warhammer but f*** Canon"?

Atleast put down a claim for Dark Elves.
Th tournament is going on for way too long. I say we cancel it.
Right now I think an overall theme would be too hard to pin since we're just in the first Tournament.







"Oh. Sorry," Calvin lowered his hand, embarassed.

“You are correct, of course, I am a Nomad, as well," The blind woman began, "I had the misfortune of arriving late, however, and missed registration by a few hours. I did not get a chance to observe the preliminaries or the first round, nor even the hubbub out side.” She nudged the man lying prone in front of her, who Calvin had suddenly noticed, and frowned. “So far, the only chance to exercise I have gotten were these two pigs, and it was barely worth moving for.”

She tried zeroing her face on Calvin. “You say you were beaten by a man with missiles? That seems...” Her frown deepened. “That seems very wrong. Where you eliminated fairly, or by some dishonourable trick?” Her fingers tightened into a fist. “Martial arts may have had to adapt to modern times, but to bring such things into the sacred battle grounds of the ring! I should very much like to meet this man."

Calvin rubbed the back of his head. "Well, some folks just prefer to use guns and stuff rather than fists, or even a weapon. But as far as the rules are concerned, as long as you can use Ki, you're golden. Kind of lame, if you ask me. If you want to see the guy, he should appear in one of those arena's down there shortly". Her head cocked to one side. “You were in the fights, though. This means you are good enough to survive the preliminaries. You must be proud, that is a very good accomplishment, especially given what I can sense running around here. What styles do you use?” Calvin's face deflated. "Well, I dabbled in Karate for a little bit, but didn't stick around for anything besides a little over a punch or kick. I mostly just use my own techniques, that I picked up from fighting Walruses back home. But if you're disappointed with how little you had to fight so far, how 'bout you and I practice outside?"




Rod sat down in the big cushy chair The Boss once sat in-- The dozen of workers constantly making sure Jeremy had control over SYM-04 hardly phased by the shift of power. He leaned back with his feet up on the desk, talking on a cell phone.

"We scanned the room up and down, it's not in here."

...

"Nope, security showed that he hasn't left this motel room since the a day before The Tournament started. Well, until he got detained, anyway".

...

"Oh shit, really? Yeah yeah, I can totally take his place. I've been studying this shit. Shouldn't be too hard either for the next few hours; Jeremy already won his second match. Not bad for an above average Gladiator-Model."

...

"Still can't find him? But we have camera's stationed on all ways in and out of Rio. If you can't find him now, he might as well be Carmen San Diego".

...

Rod whistled in impression. "Well that's one way to solve the problem. Which one?"

...

"Commando? Not a bad choice. If I could choose, I'd-- Okay okay, geeze. Just my thoughts. How long to bring that trick-pony out?"

...

"Three days, huh. Well, we can keep our eyes out for him until then. Love you too; Kisses!"

Rod hung up his phone and put it back in his pocket.









Calvin turned towards the girl sitting next to him. "Oh I was. But then I lost to some British guy who kept swearing and shooting missiles at me. Were you here before? That had to have been the loudest fight in the first round. Judging by your clothes, though, I'd be surprised if you weren't participating in the tournament..."

Calvin noticed that Yen wasn't looking at him when she first started talking, and now she was just blankly staring in his direction. Slowly raising his hand, Calvin suddenly waved in front of her face.

"You uh... You're blind, aren't you?"






A black van raced along a massive, empty tunnel. Officially, the tunnel was abandoned years ago. It screeched to a stop in front of a white limousine that blocked the entire road in front of it. The sliding door of the van opened, and a heavily armed guard hopped out, and yanked a fat man in a suit with a bag over his head with him. He shoved the man to his knees in front of the van, and stood directly behind him. Another guard hopped out, but stood near the van's door. The white limo opened, and a man in his thirties stepped out. He had a purple pompadour, white suit, and reflector shades, with a cigarette in his mouth. He plucked the cigarette from his mouth, and flicked it to the side. The guard behind the man on his knees ripped the bag off his head, revealing The Boss.

"Well I'll be damned. Look who it is." The younger man spoke.

"Cut that crap, Rodney." The boss scorned, before getting the butt of a rifle to the side of his head.

"Boss, boss boss. I told you, call me Rod." Rod shook his head as he slowly wandered in a circle around The Boss, "Just like you told me to call you Boss, 'Boss'."

Rod stopped once he finished a complete circle around the boss, facing away, with his thumb in his lips. He snapped his fingers and heel-turned towards The Boss, pointing a finger gun at him. "Lemme guess. Jeremy keeps losing control, and you, despite what you suggested, couldn't find the proper chip. The one that was implanted after his first fight was just Plan B. Whatever happened to plan A?"

"..." The Boss mumbled something underneath his breath.

Rod leaned inches from The Boss's face, with a hand over his ear. "What was that?"

"I said, I lost it." The Boss grumbled.

"Oh shit, that's rich!" Rod broke into uncontrollable laughter. "I remember... Oh geez, sorry... I just, I remember you being the guy who threatened his way to his position today. The guy who gets to manage the first ever Symbiote with an Ego. That's a first, yknow! You knew it was coming for eight years, how hard it was going to be, but you blackmailed, threatened, and intimidated your way to being first in line to watch over him! And... And you lose the chip? That's the best lie?"

"I... Don't have any other excuse. I hid it."

"Damn, Boss. You're cold. You trade the Master Chip, which gives the Ego 100% control, all the time, for some crappy knock-off worse than the original, that almost get's a kid killed, and you have no excuses? Do you even know what would happen if that kid did get killed? We'd get investigated. And some little rats, like you, would run to the cops, crying your snot out, saying 'Oh, I didn't do it! Those big bad men forced me to create those big evil machines!'" Rod mocked in a weepy voice.

"Well, we can't have an ounce of that. Everything the REAL boss has been working on would be tossed out the window," Rod leaned down to eye level with The Boss, staring straight into him, "Cmon man, you were like a father to me. Even more than he ever was. You know everything Horizon Frontier has to offer. You're petty. You're denying the future, dude. So just tell me where the chip is, and hopefully you can be pardoned. It'll be a real mistake, I'll even defend you should I need to! Just... Tell me; where's Plan A?"

The Boss stared straight back, his one good eye unblinking. "I told you. I. lost it."

Rod stood back up, sadly shaking his head. "Well then..." Rod pulled a revolver out of his pocket, "Let's see what that big brains of your's knows. Back at Horizon. But honestly, don't take this personal from me. I thought you aced this up unti--"

A barrage of rifle fire flared through the windshield of the black van, fifteen bullets hitting the guard behind The Boss's in their back. They fell dead before they hit the ground. Rod stared in shock at the broken windshield, before The Boss rammed his bald head into his groin. Rod dropped his revolver. Five guns poked out of the opened windows of the Limousine, prepared to fire, before the van rammed into into it's side, rotating the limo into a 360 spin. The van then reversed, and the window on the driver side door lowered down. The guard that had been hanging by the van was driving. "Get the hell in!" He shouted.

The boss got up and dived into The Vanas it sped off on a complete U-Turn, before it eventually faded into the darkness.

"Who the hell are you?" The boss asked.

The guard pulled off his helmet "My name's Vic. You saved my life back in '07."

"What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm saving your life, man. I don't know why I did what the hell I did, or where I'm going."

"I just might." The Boss grinned. "They're these folk called "MAVERICK".

The Boss finally loosened his cuffs, and pulled off his eyepatch. He reached into his empty socket, cringing, and pulled out a tiny black box. Opening it, a golden chip glistened in the tunnel's dim lighting.
@Oddsbod here's a link to the Discord since Mr. Allen is a scrub and has to make it as hidden as possible.

discord.gg/cU7Uv
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