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    1. MelonHead 12 yrs ago
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Mostly given up on this post by post business

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Well, if you need me I'll finish this, but this is what I was going to go for.

Might be able to get one more post in if you want to, get past the introduction phase. Considering our characters I'm not sure there's going to be a conversation, but that will probably depend on what factors unfold.
Metz’ was not forced to walk for long before he was face to face with his new foe, some distance up ahead of him following the bank of the lake. They were destined to meet, and to fight, the sand beneath them waiting patiently, hungering for their blood. Metz hadn’t been able to spot him across the expanse of the lake, with only ordinary eye-sight and the strange hues more than capable of disguising his enemy, though now without that distorting influence Metz could investigate his foe. He seemed to have removed his clothing, perhaps a wise course considering the added weight of any equipment in this place, though Metz’ clothes were functional so he had greater cause to retain them. However he had retained his mask, an interesting affection, or perhaps more, Metz was not one to discount something as what it seemed on the surface. What couldn’t escape his attention however was the vicious looking weapon at his side, something to be avoided in close contact if he could help it.

How much distance separated them was of obvious interest to Metz, he estimated it at one hundred feet as each step caused him to slip and sink uncomfortably far into the sand. He knew that gravity was still fighting him, as he had chosen to walk on the wet sand as it resisted his footsteps more significantly, yet he still found himself sinking into the ground. Still, it was a minor inconvenience, and as he continued to breathe those fumes he was experiencing a degree of their effects. His steps became somehow lighter, and he began to perceive his surroundings in an increasingly unusual fashion. He continued regardless, he was willing to ignore the experiences, judging them something more likely to be a part of the Arena rather than something affecting him personally.

“Alright, come a little closer my masked friend and I’ll give you something to think about.” He muttered, counting the steps separating them, at fifty feet he’d quickly down a vial of pure mana.
“Oof.” Metz shoulders sagged and his knees shook as the intense gravitational force of his new surroundings almost floored him. His eyes widened in alarm, unintentionally taking in the terrain and finding it odd beyond belief, yet somehow eerily familiar. His body was still in a strange state of limbo, tired, yet somehow finding itself perfectly restored, and the oddness of that feeling gave him the required strength to hold himself up as he stood there, his pale angular face drawn back and worried. The vest and under layer over and under his green jumper were weighing him down, but he was unwilling to remove either item, relying instead on his athleticism and naturally strong bones to sustain his weight until he had to do anything particularly strenuous. He seemed at first glance to be alone as he stood there, once again fully equipped with pistol, knife and vials, his feet sinking into the sand of the lake’s edge. Spreading out before him almost as far as his eye could see was a strange coloured mass of water, and with that thought he slowly grew aware of what was causing his unease, everything around him was of an unnatural hue.

“This place…” He muttered “Is beautiful.”

He was breathing, if with a little more difficulty than usual, so wherever he was the necessities were the same. Still, gravity was stronger in the place he had found himself, and that could be evidence of further oddities that could inconvenience him and his fragile biology. For a moment he considered drinking mana, hanging the consequences, and clearing the air around him to ensure his safety. However, the forces of fairplay he had seen at work thus far suggested to him that while he may be disadvantaged, it would be unlikely that his surroundings would outright end his life, which was not part of what seemed to be Skallagrim’s plan. What Metz had not been able to take advantage of however, was the opportunity to see his enemy’s skills and abilities, as he had been taken up with repairing the damage done to his arm. It was a disadvantage he was unaware of.

Though Metz was not yet in the water, he was essentially on the edge, and the fumes were entering his lungs with each breath. He looked around, and with no evidence of any opponent as of yet, he began to walk with the lake on his right hand side, essentially circling the water-mass clockwise. It was only a matter of time, or so he assumed. More violence, but the ends justified the means, oh yes indeed.
It seemed Metz was not to be forced to kill to pass the first round of the tournament, a fact for which he was incredibly grateful, as he was returned to the lobby mid-way through his casting. He took a moment to comprehend his situation, holstering his pistol in bemusement as he left arm hung lifelessly and dripped blood on the stone. His knees almost buckled then, as mana burned out of his system and the pain shot through him and his energy levels flagged dangerously. He wasn’t in great condition for only the first round, and he was down two vials of mana. His right arm clutched his wound, looking around at those who had been lucky enough or strong enough to survive their own conflicts. It was a small bunch, the winged armoured man had unsurprisingly survived, and one of the masked men who was also to be his next enemy. Metz barely comprehended his surroundings as he grew faint headed from blood-loss and his come down from his use of mana. He was led by the arm by one of the Nexus’ staff, taken into some sort of rejuvenating chamber that replicated a spell of his own design. If he had still had any pure mana left he would have been able to heal himself, but only black mana remained to him.

Or so he thought, as inexplicably as his senses returned and his body healed he discovered two pure mana vials at his belt. He had a sneaking suspicion that if he were to look in his pistol he would find it fully loaded, and made a mental note to check before combat. It seemed this tournament indeed followed some unusual rules, and one of those was an element of fair-play that kept combatants like him who burned through their recourses fully stocked. It was an interesting advantage he had gained.

“Thanks.” Metz said to his guide who had helped him.

“Hopefully I’ll be back, and I’ll be able to get more information from Skallagrim.”

He disappeared in a flash, his mind on thoughts of battle.
Cool, for story purposes just assume my character hadn't arrived before you left, I'm going to have him arrive incredibly haggard and late, as his fight dragged on the longest.
@LeeRoy @Melonhead @DjAtomika if Melon cannot make a post in a 72-hour time frame after LeeRoy posts due to his internet situation, I will substitute DJ for Melon. Melon will still retain his victory and incur no loss for this round because he cannot participate due to lack of internet.


I'm glad you put this suggestion forward, if I had heard nothing from the internet providers I would have suggested it myself, but I'm -expecting- internet returned to me by tomorrow, so it shouldn't be necessary,
@MelonHead
Gonna post in the lobby first? Or are you gonna post in the fight first? Cause the latter requires me to hop right onto my post.


Do you have a preference? It's you who will be kept waiting after I leave my friends house if I don't have the modem I'm expecting by tomorrow.

I could probably do both.
Alright, it seems I managed to scrape my way into the second round, so I'll be posting if I can now, good news is I've been informed internet could be restored to me by tomorrow, but we'll see.
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