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10.3.2017 - A mysterious light filled the Sea of Skies. Those who wielded great power and abilities found themselves back at square one, as if reset.


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Xess
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Post Count : 31
There was a lot of sound in he his area, tons of screaming fans and anvils being hit. Cress though did have a bit of trouble finding a place that was quite though to fill out a form. He decided to join a compitition of some sorts, five rounds and only 10 could enter, and cress just so happened to have grabed a spot. All he needed to do was sign a appear and he would be able to join, but first he needed to read the rules and all the hidden text. As he read time passed by and before he knew it, the sun was starting to reach mid point, the time the competition would start. As he rushed down to the arena with the paper he saw a few things that struck his interest one of them being a food stand, but hunger wasn't important, testing his current skill where, and to see if he could be a hero. After turning in he he paper her was given a choice, either have first match or be last match, and wanting to get it over with he chose first match. As he prepared for it, he was confronted by a man, around double his size saying he was going to die out there by his hands. The bell signaling the start rung and cress walked towards the arena entrance and took his spot.

The first challenger was a big buff man with wrapping around his hands and armor around his legs and right arm. The vibrations off of the metal allowed cress to sense his movement with accurate percision. As the bell ring to start the match he raised his right hand, the gloves whining in the light and started bending the sound around him, building up a large bundle of large sound waves, and started solidifying them. The man was rushing him chargeing forward, but once he steped in arms length a force the same as he weight slammed into him, knocking him to the ground, his body winded, as he started to stand up, cress was building up a flurry of razor sharp sound waves from the cheering crowd, which couldn't really see anything of what he was doing. As the man started to advance, he let the sound wave rip though him, bringing him to his knees, makeing him unable to continue, form his nerves being sliced on his legs and arms, makeing him unable to move.
After the fight he went to the resting room, waiting for the next victor to appear from the arena.

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Alexander Carvardukaras
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Post Count : 92
The audience cheered as Cress' attacks ripped through the man's body, destroying his nerves and sending the muscular man into the dirt. The wild whoops and whistles were almost overshadowed entirely by the din of clapping hands and clamor of excited shouts, the wide and diverse members of the coliseum's audience drawn in to the edge of their stone benches from an amazing, swift match. In the stands one man turned to another as the victor disappeared into the gate from which he had previously strode forth, no worse for the wear and said with excitement tinting his lips, "Blink and you'll miss that one, huh?"

Passing by Cress in the hallway was another large man, adorned in typical gladiator garb. He wore combat sandels and metal protectors for his arms and legs, as well as having a bulky bronze chest piece adorning the front of his body, leather straps overlaying his back in an "X". He wore a round helmet with a nose guard covering the bridge of his own nose, his eyes barely visible from the shadows cast by the helmet's brow. They glinted dimly as though fixated on the prize at hand. It was a whole lot of money, and boy did he want it.

The Red-Clad Child:
Outside, the audience sporadically broke into casual conversation as they cleaned up, or rather, relocated the loser. His blood still stained the sand a dark and slimy crimson, something the next pair who entered the ring immediately noticed. Any experienced fighter recognized a struggle when they saw one, but usually there was more blood elsewhere too. This was not the case here, just scuffle marks in the sand and a single spot that held a vast amount of blood. Somebody had been beaten badly.

The bell rang, and the two were off. The crowd roared with joyful anxiety and tension as the two combatants clashed metal. The first fights weren't terribly interesting, typical brutes engaged in some practical but unimpressive sword play. Magic was used, but it's usage was limited to creating distance and in one clever instance, blinding an opponent for an easy win. This was the pattern of the first three matches after Cress'.

The fourth one was a different matter. Another of the brutish gentlemen, this one without a helmet so his battered face and bald head could shine brightly against the sun, stood adjacent to a smaller individual. He seemed about the height of a child, but his entire body was concealed by a red trench coat tailored to fit his small stature. Around his face was red bandage to match, pale skin and a single, emerald-green eye showing through the wrapping. However his hair peeked through in clumps, black and unkempt. The coat flowed off of him like a cape, revealing his small white undershirt and ripped bluejeans, held up by a once-again red belt with gun holsters on either side.

The bell rang, and almost as quickly as the fight had began two loud bangs erupted through the air and rippled right into the man's eyes. He fell over, dead.

A wave of confusion gripped the crowd as the small individual walked out of the arena, seemingly content with his victory. The large man's corpse was removed, while the onlookers struggled to view what they had seen. There were confused murmurs as man after man and woman after woman questioned one another. The bell rang, and two.. things came out of the pockets on the boy's belt, and as soon as the sunlight glinted from them they erupted with sound. Was it magic? It must have been, to defeat an opponent so easily. But was it fair? It seemed... instant. The crowd didn't know how to react. Neither did the confused looking men tasked with removing the corpse.

It had been just over a half-hour had passed since Cress' fight, with only five of the original entrants remaining. One of the entrants got a free pass seeing as there was an uneven number of fighters, so there would be only two fights this round. Cress was up first against another of the brutes. From the other side of the arena from where Cress would emerge a larger man exposed himself to the sunlight. He was only slightly bigger than the last one, with shoulder, forearm, and shin guards plated in gold, but obviously a simply bronze composite.

The crowed tried to electrify themselves, but they had lost a lot of their earlier vigor. The previous "fight" had taken it out of them, and while they were excited to see some actual blood, they were still building up to it. After all, the fighter that received the pass was the red-clad child. That meant the next two rounds, however short or long they might be, were guaranteed to be exciting. The final round though is what they were worried about. What if it happened again? People still cheered though, waiting for Cress to show himself.

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Xess
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Post Count : 31
Cress felt the sound as it erupted, making his mind come off of his hunger that came back. He quickly found out it was his turn to come back and fight. As he walked towards the entrance, he took a deep breath and stepped out the crowd being not as load as before. Cress figured it was because of that sound wave. another sound user. Great. cress thought to him self as he took a position.

The fight started and cress would start to build up sound again, having a reserve would help him fight back. He starts walking and smiles slightly as the sound builds and if the opponents would to come near him, the sound he was building up was forming around him making a barrier, a razor sound barrier.

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Alexander Carvardukaras
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Post Count : 92
The large man grinned maliciously, a sword in his grip scrapping against the sheath as it slid out, flashing in the light of the star above them. The forearm guards replaced his buckler or shield, letting him have a more free range of motion in regards to his hand. He could lunge forward, fake out the twerp with his sword and wring his little neck with his hand. Not kill him though. The fighter wasn't a murderer, but like many others in his profession he easily got caught up in the violence. He raised his arms in the air and roared, the crowd responding in kind.

The wear definitely gaining their energy back, now excited to see a show put on before them. The large man rushed forward, sword extended, running, running, running with that vicious look in his eyes... although, why wasn't his opponent attempting to move? The crowd was gripped too. The distance between the two closed, sand whipped into the air underfoot as the big fool closed the gap and shoved his hand right into the wall of sound. His fingers hit it first, a sick and wet crunching sound as the flesh peeled off his hand and the blood gushed onto the sand below. It didn't stop there, try as the man might he couldn't stop his forward momentum fast enough.

His arm mangled itself before his very eyes, right up to the forearm. In fact, his protective gauntlet vibrated with the sound, a metal noise whipping through the arena and overshadowing the sick sounds of gore. More blood spilled forth, gushing over the man's armor as he managed to stop and pull back, tears welling in his eyes from the traumatic and excruciating experience. He was whimpering and fighting back sobs, having dropped his sword so his hand could clasp around his wound. He screamed the moment his skin touched the exposed flesh, a burning sensation of pain rippling through his arm and forcing him to grind his teeth.

The audience gasped in shock and horror, but cheers soon resounded again. Even as the man released his arm it fell limply to the side, it's horribly mangled form punctuated by the disturbing sway it had gained. The vibration from the contact of metal guard to sound had broken the man;s elbow. He looked about the arena, people cheering as he reflected. Despite looking like a brute he was an intelligent man. He'd been a gladiator his whole life, but now?

"I forfiet," he declared in a shaky voice, turning and walking from his opponents while clutching his arm. He had hardly given time for a reaction, putting his back towards his foe as he went to leave. The crowd fell silent briefly, before they began to boo, and mock, and jeer. He stopped as they began to chant, "To the death! To the death! To the death!" They wanted an exciting match, but the other man had not even moved from what they had seen. He only stopped briefly before continuing to walk.

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Xess
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"Fine with me, and sorry for the damage, keep the wound over ice, ok?" Cress says as he shapes some of the sound into a healing surge aiming for the injured man. After this he walks away, down into to the waiting space once more, passing the final competitors.

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Alexander Carvardukaras
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Post Count : 92
The audience continued booing and jeering the first gladiator, and he could barely hear the young man over their cries. He seethed, looking at his mangled arm when suddenly something hit him in his wounded area. He grimaced, looking own to examine the gory mess only to see it gradually start to piece itself  back together. The flesh writhed and wriggled uncomfortable as he could feel the bones sliding and grinding and cracking inside his arm. It should have hurt, but he didn't feel anymore pain from the wound... he cast a glance back at his foe, and almost nodded before continuing onward.

The crowd booed both of them now as they split up, angry that they had cheered for either. The fight was short and while it was bloody, ultimately unsatisfying. Unlike the last fight that had them shocked from the sudden end, this saw them outraged. A farce, some in the stands called it, while others pushed through the voices of those near them to shout obscenities. The rage died down but returned in full force as the next pair of gladiators strode out into the ring, the sand from the arena speckled with blood giving it an odd feel. The sun still hung high in the sky, with each match only taking a few minutes to complete.

The next was about five minutes long, and completed without any real excitement or incident. The crowd roared outside, but they were craving the excitement of an actual match. Cress' display of power had both whetted their appetite in the beginning, and suppressed it in the last match. Now that it had concluded, a representative from the arena approached Cress, and offered him a white piece of scroll. The next round only had three people in it, meaning there could only be one match. On the little piece of scroll, the word "Pass" was written in Greek lettering. The man walked away silently, almost as if he didn't want to speak to Cress.

The spirit of the arena, in the minds of most Greeks, was a martial competition of might and magic. When one overshadowed the other, or somebody appeared and made the whole Ordeal seem like a joke it offended them. The earlier matches were one thing because there were more of them, but as it wore on it didn't seem like a tournament. It just felt like a build up to the final match, and everyone knew who would be participating. Cress, and the mysterious short stranger with his two metal... things. The pass meant Cress was free to observe the next match.

See No Evil:
The red stranger stepped outside from the other end of the arena, just like before. The other man emerged from Cress' side, wearing different garb and in general having a different appearance to other gladiators. He was much thinner, matted black hair, and though he was well toned may as well been called lanky before svelte. He seemed very disinterested in the whole affair, as though making it to the semi-finals wasn't a huge deal for him. He was around Cress' age by the appearance alone, but unlike the other gladiator's, he spoke. "You and that other guy know nothing about showmanship, do you?" He half mocked, half-joked. "Man, they make money off of us but only because these people came to see a show. No shows, no gold. For any of us. How do you think they get the prize money together?"

The child did not move or respond, instead staring onward as though he were contemplating something else altogether. Then the bell rung and he was broken from his trance, reaching for his weapons and retrieving them from their holsters in a smooth motion. Two loud noises resounded again, only this time the opponent did not fall. His shield went up with speed to match the young man's draw, but two heavy dents rested in the shield where his eyes would have been. If Cress was observing, he would have recognized the weapons immediately, though there was something else about them that made them unique.

The black haired man rushed forward with his shield at the ready, sword by his side, while the red-clad man fired more shots. The shield came up to block them as he traced around the man's body, but for some reason he always came back to trying to hit his opponent in the eyes. The black haired man learned this pattern, and as he neared cut the shield from his arm mid-stride, nicking himself with his own sword in the process. Blood rolled from his forearm as he grabbed the dented metal plate and tossed it with great speed and strength at the kid before him, successfully knocking one of his guns away and unbalancing him to open for a strike.

The black haired man lept into the air, sword raised high as he came down with brutal force. The crowd roared and caught fire, the people on the edge of their seats screaming at the top of their lungs, when suddenly...

The young child had also lept into the air with his weapon, a gunshot preceding when he sliced completely through the man's blade, bringing was seemed to be dagger extending from his gun right into the man's eyes. The metal pressed in but suddenly stopped as  though it had lost it's edge. And the man in the air went limp from shock. The child fell atop of him as they hit the ground, red trench coat settling at his back. The young child rose from the man's quivering body, blood oozing from his face and walked over to his lost gun. In the other hand, he whipped his weapon up and the blade retreated back into the top before he moved to exit the arena.

That last shot fired though was different than the others. It... lingered somehow, like it was vibrating. However the vibrations were too low for most to perceive, especially because they were only as brief as the bang that had created them. The crowd could be heard shrieking in delightful unison as the match concluded, but now it was time to wait. There was an hour concession for what should have been an hour of matches. For now, the people would go and relieve themselves, gather food and drink, converse, and then return. While they expected the red one to win that match they certainly didn't expect that.

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