Post by The Librarian on Apr 25, 2010 18:20:45 GMT -7
21:38:40 FASHBINDER enters this room
21:40:01 -§§-Tenishna enters this room
21:48:57 FASHBINDER - One would notice a massive swarm of energies all accumulating within the fighting pit area in a rapid manner, they stretch forth from seemingly perpetual origins. Fashbinder appears directly in the position of accumulation, standing there at eight feet in height with arms to his sides. Eyes narrowed just a tad as they survey the area. Aside from the obvious in appearance, one would be able to notice the sadistic forces seeping out from within Fashbinder. Seemingly volatile energies pulsating in a controlled manner for the most part.
22:00:47 -§§-Tenishna :: The being which strode into the Coliseum this day would be previously unknown to the playing field, it would seem. The twisted demonic soldier who was usually ushered forwards to act as the manifestation of the Reaver would have shifted appearances, slightly, perhaps specifically for this fight. The black armours would have shifted to a brilliant silver, the various plates and leathers lined in deep blues. The hellish hound which previously composed the mask would have shifted to a featurless white mask, eyes and mouth void of all color. The satanic wings would have shifted and become more delicate, almost composed of feathers, as their metalic renderings gave the juggernaut the guise of an angel. The tail would remain, barbed and sickly. Tower and blade replaced by a single mace of mammoth construct. He stood as tall as his foe, and likley much wider, and would make no splendid actions as he strode towards his foe for this evening. ::
22:14:39 FASHBINDER - The target held a rather impressive appearance, the fact that there wasn't enough to tell where exactly the target stood on the scale in comparison to Fashbinder. Nevertheless, this being was recognizable. "Hm..." A moment of pondering, cycling through faded images before the slight hint can be matched with only one. "Ah, so it's you. Interesting." If Fashbinder's mind serves him correctly, this individual was one of few to lead a successful attack against the leader of the supremacy. In fact, this individual almost destroyed the supremacy at one point in time. "I've missed you dearly, yet it bugs me that I never got the name of my destroyer." Smirking at the larger frame before Fashbinder explodes with a deafening boom, releasing a massive gravitational stomp which flattens the earth underneath him perfectly within a twenty-five foot radius, pushing it down about a foot. A cloud of smoke is left in wake of the explosion and soon it is shoved aside like a curtain, unveiling Fash and Binder. Two--
22:14:54 FASHBINDER --four foot tall child-like replicas of Fashbinder. Fash maintaining normal appearance, while Binder dons glassy-like silver skin. Fash clenching his fists and releasing his magnificent aura, and as such the crimson flames of ethereal extend from wall to wall, tainting the atmosphere in scarlet with a mighty roar. Distortions extending from within Fash, crawling about and pulsating randomly as they may. Meanwhile, Binder would remain by Fash's side, clicking his tongue as they await the next move on behalf of their opponent.
22:25:15 -§§-Tenishna :: It would halt its march as the other sundered its form, head tilting sideways, much as a dog would upon hearing a peculiar sound. A gauntleted right hand would swing the weapon onto its respective shoulder, and the knight would sigh, returning its head to the proper rotation. The activation of the others abilities did not seem to phase the being, as the enviroment would change violently around him he would weather the effects idly. I am the Knight. Low, slow, and smooth, the words would flow from underneath the mask, noticably muffled. I am the first. The black gaze would be upon the two children, and any awkardness one may find in the match up would seem to be lost to this fighter, replaced by tiredness. The left hand would extend slowly, digits manipulating themselves into a grim guesture towards the two with the index finger. We remember you. A thin fog would seem to be seeping from the crevices of his armour, and with this begin a slow gait towards the two. ::
22:42:02 FASHBINDER - Fash would continue to glow more prominently, lavender hues locking onto the armoured form and narrowing into seething slits. He seemed rather worked up over the occasion, ah well. Binder would watch this being continue on his walk towards them, closing the gap with every effortless step. Binder would also clench his fists before slamming his feet into the ground, thrusting himself towards Tenishna, earth and stone rising from underneath him and exploding in everywhich way. Along with this, a multitude of distortions would make themselves known around Binder. Tenishna could probably recognize them as astral manifestations, and these softball sized manifestations orbit around Binder in a manner that practically engulfs his form. This is due to their speed and near countless quantity. The earth swarming around Binder extends to about thirty feet, outside of this range the hail is much less intense but this does not eliminate the chance of being struck. The astral manifestations orbiting around him extend--
22:44:48 FASHBINDER --to about fifteen feet, and the chance of being struck is hindered outside of this range, but again, not eliminated. Binder is moving towards Tenishna at a considerably high speed, his goal is to get Tenishna within the fifteen foot radius, of course. If the earth strikes him, then it should pound him with enough force to deal considerable physical damage. As for the astral attacks, it's an attempt at knocking his astral presence out of his body by repeatedly smashing into it if successful. Then again, that's what would happen under normal circumstances.
23:02:09 -§§-Tenishna :: Metallic wings would fold close to the body as the storm hit him, and barbed tail would begin to twitch restlessly like an aggrivated cat. It would stride undaunted towards the advancing form of Binder and his barrage of physical and astral bumper-balls. As the earth would be kicked up and spit at its form the Knight wouldn't seem to conciously react, as the rubble would strike and ricochett off with obvious force. Its form would flinch and dance as the bombardment ensued yet the might of the storm seemed short of the tipping point to impeed its form. One must remember that walking towards Binder could amount to as much as a Ford F-150 in mass. As proximity to the astral orbs would increase an attempt to bludgeon the Reavers astral form from its body would ensue, and promptly fail. One would be ignorant to expect that a being of the Reavers nature would exist without defenses on those planes. Ever ominous runes would flare into brilliant life as the orbs would close the distance to contact.<C>
23:02:13 -§§-Tenishna <C> And, as each orb would contact the mesh of runes which were so laced in an ever lurking act of preservation they would find themselves victim to the same fate as the earth against the metals of the Knights physical form. Such astral presences seemed content to stay anchored. The steps would continue, and if Binder were to come in close enough to the form of the Knight that he should be within striking distance of that mace. Say aproximatly eight feet, the mace would fly from the shoulder, bound by those mighty hands, and attempt to knock the child away with what force one can only imagine from a being of this size, against a child of that size. Regardless, the steps would continue on towards Fash, and his evil glare, the fog of the Reaver being tossed about in this tempest yet, too, content with its anchorage in that shell, becoming its own ominous aura. ::
23:03:49 TheArtist enters this room
23:14:15 [TheArtist] A man walked into the Coliseum, not much noticing, or, otherwise, paying any attention to what already went about. He helped himself to one side, making sure to not disturb. With him, he carried (quite cumbersomely) a nifty fold-up chair, a white canvas & stand, and small paint brush; which was held in his mouth - all of which he proceeded to set up neatly. Upon sitting down, slowly, he removed the barret from his head, which rested, oddly enough, atop a hood. "My masterpiece is here!" T'was now that he gazed upon the ongoing battle, a feint, faded blue glowing from within the (obviously mysterious) shadows of the hood (obviously).
23:29:29 FASHBINDER - Binder watched the might of the attacker prove true as his attack failed, it was in vain but not outside of expectation, in fact the assault proved successful in a way. Binder choosing to stay within range, deciding to engage the massive being in close quarters combat. He'd come to a halt and leap upwards, body tilting clockwise in the eyes of the target, Binder going into a cartwheel and as he comes to hand upside down above the mace he thrusts a small arm forth, a single finger touching one of the spikes on the massive weapon. During this moment he makes a physical link to his target, or so one would believe. Locking onto the physical structure with his energies and due to the connection by hand he can make an attempt at pipelining an attack to Tenishna. His right hand would be the one to touch down while his left forearm begins to jiggly violently before bursting forth in a gelatinous manner, the burst doesn't extend very far from the arm itself. Perhaps six inches before surging back in to form a--
23:29:59 FASHBINDER --high tech cannon of sorts with a barrel about five inches wide in diameter. Energies rapidly swarming into this cannon to grant it a brilliant blinding white glow, taking him towards Tenishna's torso and now coming through with his primary action. He'll attempt to link through to Tenishna mind, through the physical connection. An attack on the cerebral plane, a massive electromagnetic pulse sent forth in an effort to hinder or possibily disable Tenishna. Perhaps, his physical fortifications might disappear allowing for the firing of a three foot wide in diameter beam of charged particle energy to prove useful. The chance of punching a hole through the torso is rather high if such defenses are brought down enough. Meanwhile, Fash continues to glow, at this point he is engulfed in a blinding white light which also shines forth on the coliseum around them, making everything rather difficult to view, the aforementioned distortions prominent enough to cause ripples in the air.
23:40:52 [TheArtist] He gets to work, passionately; his whole arm moving with the paintbrush, which glides about the canvas so very smoothly. Flawless lines, perfect curves, and vivid colors all come forth from this tool of painting, though, there wasn't a dab, bucket, or bit of actual paint anywhere to be seen. Oh, how wonderful! What he painted was almost as a photograph, but, it held to it a certain makeshift art that could not be seen in such a direct copy. It was, indeed, true beauty. What was it, you ask, he was painting? Why, it was the exact scene infront of him (which he seemed to pay no attention to, mind you). Though, t'was odd, how much of the canvas was taken up by sheer white! It was that one being, and his incessant white-light. Our artist frowned at this pure blemish upon his work, and, reluctantly, scribbled about the white upon his canvas. The light which engulfed Fash dimmed, and became but a pretty glimmer - it had no other actual affect, save for the simple dimming of light, mind you. -c-
23:41:11 [TheArtist] -c- He smiled, and nodded in approval of his magnificent workings. It was much more aesthetically pleasing with this improvement. -- Without hesitation, though, quickly, he ran the paintbrush about the canvas five times; creating, in the scene, a star; which became a pentagram - thanks, kindly, to the circle of the coliseum's build. How, though, this painting effected the true environment, for the ground was marked with horridly deep trenches, which were, when one looked into them, as black as the paint that was used to paint them!
23:56:11 -§§-Tenishna :: The masked visage would shift as Binder pounced upon his form, a dull not of curiosity manifesting in a humm from burried vocals. The attack upon the Knights cerebrals would be noted, and apparently dissipated with minimal effort. The other was attempting to fry circuts which were not there in any traditional sense. The electric energy would cackle about and through the Knights form as he watched the transformation of the other arm, the others attack lost within a sea of artificial moter devices. The processing unit, the brain or cerebral unit of the juggernaut was not of organic nature, and in fact seemed to work outside of the binds of electricity as the fluxuations did nothing. The Knight would sigh as the gun was formed, and fired. The blow would land 'pon the Knights chest and find laying there cousins of the runes which still work to thwart the astral bombardment, the defensive batteries flaring to incredible life. The blast would be taken in and meerly dissipated among those<C>
23:56:13 -§§-Tenishna <C>supernatural channels, the entity of the runes veteran to assaults of this nature. The blast would strike the surface and the membrane would register the peculiars of that blasts energy and find it quickly beaten into a nonlethal form. Like throwing bricks at a brick wall, the blast packing, presumably, no trick in its punch would find the armour unsusceptable to its harm. Kid, the Knight would groan, as if he were on the verge of collapsing due to fatigue, I'm a castle. The Knights left arm would raise slowly, arching towards his own chest. You are an ant. The hand would flinch and penetrate the Knights own chest, the fist sinking deep into the metals of the torso, the rupture causing an explosive inferno to spew from the wound. Be - creative. The last comment a yell, laced with apparent pain, . The hand would fly out again, holding in its grasp a writhing figure composed of light fog that would be tossed to his <C>
23:56:17 -§§-Tenishna <C>side, landing awkardly on the ground. The explosion from the Knights chest would, surley, burn away the form of Binder, as the inferno were laced with far more destructive entities than meere terrestrial flame. Thing of it as fire, for your mind, body, and soul. As the initial explosion would die down to a slow burn which began to consume the entire body, the Knight would fall backwards, and land heavily 'pon the earth. As he fell, the thing which he pulled from himself in this apparent suicidal spell would stand, and would reveal itself as a woman composed of, seemingly, nothing but cloud. She would gaze about curiously, as from within the wretched hole in the Knights chest there came a sadistic cackle. ::
00:15:38 FASHBINDER - Taking in the corresponding events, Binder grits his teeth and emits a low growl, "Son of a bitch..." Watching as the entity shoved a hand into himself with a new found interest before the resulting explosion. His entire form gaining a gelatinous texture, streaming away from his position and coming to land in a splat about five feet ahead of Fash, quickly shooting up from the ground to reform, a bit spooked by the properties of the inferno. As for Fash, the distortions having established themselves would now serve their purpose, granted ample time without interruption, one assumes they can safely claim that he successfully creates a demi-plane at this time which encompasses the fighting pit area.
00:29:10 [TheArtist] The man strokes his chin in hesitation. This stroking of the chin was an obvious implication to his thoughts. You see, the very ways his fingers moved about his own skin told that he thought the painting needed something. The way his thumb twitched told, of course, that he thought the painting needed more sophistication. The light squinting of the eyes told, quite apparently, that this sophistication had to come with age. You see? His very thought process is depicted in the subtle gestures. He begins painting, and, in the center of this chaos slowly materialized a table, and the figure of a humanoid. T'was a man of age, quite old, mind you - yet it was as obvious as the artist's own thoughts that time had not beaten down upon this man to the point of great inconvenience. He sat, calmly, sipping at a cup of tea, admiring the environment about him, which he was obviously used to. The fine-china set upon his table, coupled with the silk table-cover made him feel right at home. -c-
00:29:48 [TheArtist] -c- The wrinkles of his face curved upwards in a pleasured grin; oh, to be home again!
00:36:05 -§§-Tenishna :: A hand would bolt from the wound in the Knights chest, lanky, distorted, rippling in and out of focus like a television with bad reception, aglow with a sickly red haze, and pulling to surface the rest of a disgustingly distorted man adorned in a red tuxedo, and matching top hat. He would be cackling, insanly. This!He would gasp, yelling lowdly as the effects of Fash's demiplane were surley manifesting, and he pulled himself entierly out of the wound. He would gaze upon the forms of Fash and Biner, while his left hand guestured awkwardsly towards the lady of cloud. This is the Second! His voice would lower, in what one could call an attempt to be seductive, his gaze peeling from Fash and Binder to land on the woman. She is the Lover, a grin would split his face, and he would cuckle softly. And I! His voice would raise splendidly again, as he swept his gaze towards Fash and Binder, bowing deeply, and removing his hat as he did so, letting spill a mess of long, tangled<C>
00:36:11 -§§-Tenishna <C>brown hair. I am the Third, the Psycho! The Lover would not speak as she rushed towards the side of the Knight as Psycho stepped away, towards the forms of Fash and Binder, straightening his lanky form, and again gracing his head with his hat. Now, the Demiplane, which has seemed to been ignored so far. One may not find it odd that the beings present this day in this match against Fashbinder would have encountered the likes of this technique before, and were not unprepared. The build of of energies from Fash were noted before hand, and properly taken care of as a massive defensive engine was put in place before the completion of Fash's spell. The Pentagram. I'm afraid we've hit a rut. Psycho would lisp, as he meandered almost drunkenly towards the pair. You see this shape, his arms would spread wide, guesturing to the enviroment around him, specifically the pentagram, Is here for a reason. Another cuckle. Let you be king of that domain! Manipulate it as you will!<C>
00:36:15 -§§-Tenishna <C>He would spin in a circle on his heel, before continuing to close the distance. This, again with the arm guestures, Is ours. The manifestations present would, indeed, find themselves oddly safe. They would reside each within their own pockets of the protection granted by that Pentagram, resilient to the effects of the creation of that Demiplane and the influence it will have. On the plane of this shape and these pockets of its manifestation lay a reality still waiting to be bridged by the Demiplane. It would take more than simple manifestation to leak its influence in these waters. As the Psycho were to walk and talk, the Lover would be working her magic 'pon the Knight, and the Fourth would be manifesting his elderly self in the midst of this game. ::
01:04:58 FASHBINDER - Fash would grin as the technique did not follow through, it was a surge of adrenaline due to victory not being anywhere within reach at this point. Something psychotic of the sort. The noted pentagram, a failure to note on his behalf, who could be responsible for this thing? It didn't seem like the target was the creature, however; this would not cross him from the equation. Perhaps, he was dealing with a proxy and was not going up against difficult to trace energies. Hrm, maybe, but then again maybe not. An allie? Would he actually take help in order to vanquish Fashbinder? He didn't know much of the forces that stood before him, so it was also not out of question. A brief scan on part of his lavender irises would give way to the artist. "No effin' way... Yes effin' way." Vision zooming in on the canvas and looking over the works before sighing, "How soon? Very soon? Approximate? Good. Indeed, no, not at all. Very good. I like." Fash would look over the ground before upnodding Binder--
01:05:24 FASHBINDER --before kicking off the ground, levitating above it only a few inches. Binder in turn having his feet upon the ground, established physical connection would allow for him to focus his energies into the seal. Energies traveling along it's frequency to the source, or what was thought to be the source, the canvas. If successful on it's track then the canvas would explode, going off like a nuke. Pipe-lining his energies once again. This serves to force the artist to break the seal, and since he's using a more direct method to infiltrate, it's likely that such action will have to be taken in a standard scenario. If the link is not broken then the atoms of the canvas itself will succumb to manipulation, accelerating the particles and causing it to go off right in the artist's face. Meanwhile, Fash's distortions would remain, opening the doors to his demi-plane, while remaining ever vigilant of his partner's well being and in fact his mind steered a bit from the demi-plane's construction. He'll lend his mind to--
01:06:07 FASHBINDER --possibly shatter a possible defense.
23:17:27 FASHBINDER enters this room
23:17:27 -§§-Tenishna enters this room
23:21:18 TheArtist enters this room
23:39:08 [TheArtist] The canvas hadn't shaken the smallest bit (it may be easily noticed, though, that tracing the path which connected to it was horribly simple). This old man, though, was taken back - and, it was quite obvious that he was both immensly surprised, and horridly disappointed. For some reason, his beautiful depiction, the one which so innocently rested upon the canvas, has been erased! Completely wiped out, and, the canvas sat there blank, once again. How odd, how frustrating! -- The coliseum, and everything within it, reverted into a white. A white. Of course, the formal rules of the english language may require that a noun be used, but, in this case, that is impossible - for there is no noun. It is all but a white. Fash and Tenishna may be explained as floating, though, there was nothing to float above, or below. They could be explained as standing, but, there is no ground to stand upon. -- Everything was but a white. -c-
23:39:28 [TheArtist] -c- Slowly, though, the Coliseum began rematerializing, though, it's form not as perfect as before. -- The old man sat at his canvas, and painted hastilly.
00:12:56 -§§-Tenishna :: The elderly man would be sitting at his table grinning patiently in the midst’s of this madhouse of events. The world would turn white, and he would sip his drink calmly. Hello, ‘gents. He would say softly, a volume soft enough that one would not expect normal ears to pick up those sound waves, and yet his comrades would respond in turn. The Psycho would halt in his tracks, tilting his head awkwardly towards the side, and voice his recognition. ‘ello gov’ner. He would spin around and grin towards the elderly figure. And my lady The Old Man would nod towards the Lover, whose expression and gaze were indecipherable, for facial appearances were simply not there. Fancy seein’ you here! Psycho would chime, ever childish in mannerisms. A feat of apparent necromancy would occur as an ever tired Knight would sit up. Shut up, Psycho. He would side with the Lover rising from his side, sighing purposefully an deeply, and the Old Man would chuckle.<C>
00:12:58 -§§-Tenishna <C>The elder would have produced a briefcase which was now situated ‘pon the table top, fitting in well despite the tables attire. The lid would be popped, and the insides confined in shaded darkness. The hands and gaze would be lost within those depths, both obviously doing something inside of that box. Whatever, the Psycho would turn again towards Fash and Binder. Specifically Fash, this time. The steps would continue, and what steps they would be! The properties of a pentagram held together by the sorcery of, visibly, four entities suspended in the milk-white of this black existence would find no difficulty in landing solidly on the apparent nothingness. He would walk towards Fash, and he would steam with a strange red steam, and he would pass, invited or not, through those unlocked doors of the demiplane, with an expression which revealed only: ‘Sup, guys. The Knight would stir, placing his massive hand upon the Lovers back, lingering there only as his arm lagged behind as he traveled<C>
00:13:00 -§§-Tenishna <C> in a similar fashion, a feint white smoke of his own pulsing slowly from his form. The Lover would blow him a kiss, and the aura would surge, before resorting back to a placid state. The Knight moved again towards Binder. Don’t you all look splendid. The elderly man would comment, eyes never leaving that box of his. And thus it would be, as the Lover moved to stand by the Old Mans side, and the Psycho and the Knight marched across unseen bridges towards that demiplane of Fash and Binders. This, understandably, created a sort of link between the two planes, offering a ground upon which influence was able to be shared, thus the ability of transition. One was fully aware that they were marching into a zone where the enemies influence was understandably strong, yet they lay tethered to cords of power radiated from their own abode. One may note that as Binders feet were on the ground and attempted to create a direct physical connection with the seal, one may not have completed<C>
00:13:07 -§§-Tenishna <C> such an activity in its full. The ground was now, supposedly, gone, and yet the image of a pentagram remained in deep dark contours. This may be attributed to the said notion that the pentagram was a thing of its own accord, and not a structure simply within the Coliseum. Binder would not have previously been able to stand upon the pentagram, and thus make his connection with it. Now, however, as realms of influence were bridged, possibilities change. ::
01:04:56 [FASHBINDER] : - How would Fash deal with such? Lavender hues scanning the blank scenario. White. Nothing but white. Binder gritting his teeth in frustration, this was unexpected. What to do, what to do. Ah, just then, a portal shreds into existence and out comes Animus, Fash's right hand man. He wasn't in his standard form, in fact he was rather massive, around the Knight's build. His body depicted no details, no clothing or facial features at all, his form was like a blank slate with just the bare basics. A pitch black humanoid silhouette. Binder seemingly backing off, with a snap of his wrist his left arm would take the form of a blade. Lunging forth towards the Knight and the Psycho, as distance is closed between them his eyes would zoom in on the targets, choosing his attack point. Coming in at around ten feet, his left arm would flicker out of view, stretching forth and making swift cutting motions. The knife is not being used to cut them, the air is being used to cut them. Now, understandably, if he took shots--
01:05:20 FASHBINDER --from boulders, how could cutting winds possibly hurt him? Supposedly, everything has a beginning and end. Binder, at the moment is able to see lines on the targets which depict the end, if a cut was made along this line then the target would instantly be severed along this line. Not only lines, but Binder can also see prominent dots which sit upon the intersection of these lines, if stabbed, could destroy the target beyond regeneration. To slashes. The cutting air would be rushing forth in the form of a horizontal slice to the waist of each. Animus, coming into view and using Fash's established manifestations to allow for his influence to seep forth. Slamming his hands together in a clapping motion, then pulling them apart in a vertical motion, one arm goes down, while the other goes up, coming out to be held up at either side. A mere centimeter away from the old man, directly behind him. From within this space would rip forth the Deadzone. Makeo-Jin signature. Exploding into view and shredding the--
01:05:43 FASHBINDER --returning earth apart in a considerably volatile manner. This Deadzone acts as a funnel. Fash closing his demi-plane now, if the old man or any of the others are pulled in, then they will end up in his reality.
01:33:27 [TheArtist] Again, the painter strokes his chin in thought, his expression showing that he is, obviously, displeased with this drawing. "I must... remember to take care of it, sooner or later." Ah! His face brightens up at the new idea, for, he had just the simplest of devices to constantly remind him. From within this artist's sleeve came forth a red marker, which he proceeded to, without hesitation, uncap. Over and over the tip of the marker circled around Fash's figure, which was, undoubtedly, drawn upon the canvas (before this demi-plane was completely closed, mind you). And, as one could easily guess, the red lines manifested in the battle, completely cutting off, quite simply, any connections between what is inside the bubble - and what is outside. -- The man looks to his marker, and gasps with surprise - promptly following through with a string of foul words. Upon the side of it read, Permanent Marker. "I only wanted to remind myself, not destroy my creation!"
NihilisticSigh (1:44:30 AM): Yo.
NihilisticSigh (1:44:32 AM): Tenishna.
AgoldenFishy (1:44:33 AM): Hi.
NihilisticSigh (1:44:48 AM): I submit. I can't think of anything anymore.
NihilisticSigh (1:44:50 AM): I'm done.
NihilisticSigh (1:44:56 AM): Kill me or whatever.
NihilisticSigh (1:45:12 AM): Postponing a fight really does fuck me up.
NihilisticSigh (1:45:47 AM): You wanna post a one hit kill, whatever. I'm done with the fight though.
AgoldenFishy (1:45:44 AM): If you submit this way it will be unconditionally. I'll kill your character past ressurection.
NihilisticSigh (1:45:51 AM): Out of creativity.
NihilisticSigh (1:46:12 AM): Well I guess I'm fucked.
NihilisticSigh (1:46:15 AM): Whatever.
AgoldenFishy (1:46:21 AM): Alright.
AgoldenFishy (1:46:44 AM): Would you like me to write a formal post? Finishing this one will still take a while.
NihilisticSigh (1:47:04 AM): Do whatever you desire.
NihilisticSigh (1:47:21 AM): Like I said, I'm done.
AgoldenFishy (1:52:16 AM): (Shrug) You put up a good show, for what it's worth.
AgoldenFishy (1:52:26 AM): Artist's post will understandably end the situation.
NihilisticSigh (1:52:38 AM): Cool.
01:51:25 TheArtist sighs, shaking his head; obviously displeased at his work. Again, from his pocket, flings forth something. 'Tis a white bottle of... white-out. He proceeds to spread it about the figures of Fash, Binder, the opening to the demi-plane, Animus. -- He, then, quite promptly, draws the Coliseum's missing parts (due to the whiteout) back as they were, without these figures.
02:26:34 FASHBINDER - What could be said of the events? A wide eyed glance and a scream of frustration from Fash as Binder stood there, frozen, shaking his head. "Tch." Animus dropping his arms, a deep sigh of regret as his efforts proved useless. "Marvelous; the entity whom first showed me a glint of defeat... later came back to thoroughly imprint the realization of destruction." All of his manifestations, his range of influence disappearing. They'd all begin to fade away, Fash clicking his tongue and shrugging softly, "My only regret is that I never got your name." Through and through, The Fashbinder Supremacy's final stand. Without further delay, they'd be gone from sight in accordance to the painting, never to be seen again. "I... am the supremacy." A few irrelevant words muttered by the psychotic super demon in his last moment, lingering in the air for just a few moments before all is gone, hanging on to the days of glory. Tsk.
21:40:01 -§§-Tenishna enters this room
21:48:57 FASHBINDER - One would notice a massive swarm of energies all accumulating within the fighting pit area in a rapid manner, they stretch forth from seemingly perpetual origins. Fashbinder appears directly in the position of accumulation, standing there at eight feet in height with arms to his sides. Eyes narrowed just a tad as they survey the area. Aside from the obvious in appearance, one would be able to notice the sadistic forces seeping out from within Fashbinder. Seemingly volatile energies pulsating in a controlled manner for the most part.
22:00:47 -§§-Tenishna :: The being which strode into the Coliseum this day would be previously unknown to the playing field, it would seem. The twisted demonic soldier who was usually ushered forwards to act as the manifestation of the Reaver would have shifted appearances, slightly, perhaps specifically for this fight. The black armours would have shifted to a brilliant silver, the various plates and leathers lined in deep blues. The hellish hound which previously composed the mask would have shifted to a featurless white mask, eyes and mouth void of all color. The satanic wings would have shifted and become more delicate, almost composed of feathers, as their metalic renderings gave the juggernaut the guise of an angel. The tail would remain, barbed and sickly. Tower and blade replaced by a single mace of mammoth construct. He stood as tall as his foe, and likley much wider, and would make no splendid actions as he strode towards his foe for this evening. ::
22:14:39 FASHBINDER - The target held a rather impressive appearance, the fact that there wasn't enough to tell where exactly the target stood on the scale in comparison to Fashbinder. Nevertheless, this being was recognizable. "Hm..." A moment of pondering, cycling through faded images before the slight hint can be matched with only one. "Ah, so it's you. Interesting." If Fashbinder's mind serves him correctly, this individual was one of few to lead a successful attack against the leader of the supremacy. In fact, this individual almost destroyed the supremacy at one point in time. "I've missed you dearly, yet it bugs me that I never got the name of my destroyer." Smirking at the larger frame before Fashbinder explodes with a deafening boom, releasing a massive gravitational stomp which flattens the earth underneath him perfectly within a twenty-five foot radius, pushing it down about a foot. A cloud of smoke is left in wake of the explosion and soon it is shoved aside like a curtain, unveiling Fash and Binder. Two--
22:14:54 FASHBINDER --four foot tall child-like replicas of Fashbinder. Fash maintaining normal appearance, while Binder dons glassy-like silver skin. Fash clenching his fists and releasing his magnificent aura, and as such the crimson flames of ethereal extend from wall to wall, tainting the atmosphere in scarlet with a mighty roar. Distortions extending from within Fash, crawling about and pulsating randomly as they may. Meanwhile, Binder would remain by Fash's side, clicking his tongue as they await the next move on behalf of their opponent.
22:25:15 -§§-Tenishna :: It would halt its march as the other sundered its form, head tilting sideways, much as a dog would upon hearing a peculiar sound. A gauntleted right hand would swing the weapon onto its respective shoulder, and the knight would sigh, returning its head to the proper rotation. The activation of the others abilities did not seem to phase the being, as the enviroment would change violently around him he would weather the effects idly. I am the Knight. Low, slow, and smooth, the words would flow from underneath the mask, noticably muffled. I am the first. The black gaze would be upon the two children, and any awkardness one may find in the match up would seem to be lost to this fighter, replaced by tiredness. The left hand would extend slowly, digits manipulating themselves into a grim guesture towards the two with the index finger. We remember you. A thin fog would seem to be seeping from the crevices of his armour, and with this begin a slow gait towards the two. ::
22:42:02 FASHBINDER - Fash would continue to glow more prominently, lavender hues locking onto the armoured form and narrowing into seething slits. He seemed rather worked up over the occasion, ah well. Binder would watch this being continue on his walk towards them, closing the gap with every effortless step. Binder would also clench his fists before slamming his feet into the ground, thrusting himself towards Tenishna, earth and stone rising from underneath him and exploding in everywhich way. Along with this, a multitude of distortions would make themselves known around Binder. Tenishna could probably recognize them as astral manifestations, and these softball sized manifestations orbit around Binder in a manner that practically engulfs his form. This is due to their speed and near countless quantity. The earth swarming around Binder extends to about thirty feet, outside of this range the hail is much less intense but this does not eliminate the chance of being struck. The astral manifestations orbiting around him extend--
22:44:48 FASHBINDER --to about fifteen feet, and the chance of being struck is hindered outside of this range, but again, not eliminated. Binder is moving towards Tenishna at a considerably high speed, his goal is to get Tenishna within the fifteen foot radius, of course. If the earth strikes him, then it should pound him with enough force to deal considerable physical damage. As for the astral attacks, it's an attempt at knocking his astral presence out of his body by repeatedly smashing into it if successful. Then again, that's what would happen under normal circumstances.
23:02:09 -§§-Tenishna :: Metallic wings would fold close to the body as the storm hit him, and barbed tail would begin to twitch restlessly like an aggrivated cat. It would stride undaunted towards the advancing form of Binder and his barrage of physical and astral bumper-balls. As the earth would be kicked up and spit at its form the Knight wouldn't seem to conciously react, as the rubble would strike and ricochett off with obvious force. Its form would flinch and dance as the bombardment ensued yet the might of the storm seemed short of the tipping point to impeed its form. One must remember that walking towards Binder could amount to as much as a Ford F-150 in mass. As proximity to the astral orbs would increase an attempt to bludgeon the Reavers astral form from its body would ensue, and promptly fail. One would be ignorant to expect that a being of the Reavers nature would exist without defenses on those planes. Ever ominous runes would flare into brilliant life as the orbs would close the distance to contact.<C>
23:02:13 -§§-Tenishna <C> And, as each orb would contact the mesh of runes which were so laced in an ever lurking act of preservation they would find themselves victim to the same fate as the earth against the metals of the Knights physical form. Such astral presences seemed content to stay anchored. The steps would continue, and if Binder were to come in close enough to the form of the Knight that he should be within striking distance of that mace. Say aproximatly eight feet, the mace would fly from the shoulder, bound by those mighty hands, and attempt to knock the child away with what force one can only imagine from a being of this size, against a child of that size. Regardless, the steps would continue on towards Fash, and his evil glare, the fog of the Reaver being tossed about in this tempest yet, too, content with its anchorage in that shell, becoming its own ominous aura. ::
23:03:49 TheArtist enters this room
23:14:15 [TheArtist] A man walked into the Coliseum, not much noticing, or, otherwise, paying any attention to what already went about. He helped himself to one side, making sure to not disturb. With him, he carried (quite cumbersomely) a nifty fold-up chair, a white canvas & stand, and small paint brush; which was held in his mouth - all of which he proceeded to set up neatly. Upon sitting down, slowly, he removed the barret from his head, which rested, oddly enough, atop a hood. "My masterpiece is here!" T'was now that he gazed upon the ongoing battle, a feint, faded blue glowing from within the (obviously mysterious) shadows of the hood (obviously).
23:29:29 FASHBINDER - Binder watched the might of the attacker prove true as his attack failed, it was in vain but not outside of expectation, in fact the assault proved successful in a way. Binder choosing to stay within range, deciding to engage the massive being in close quarters combat. He'd come to a halt and leap upwards, body tilting clockwise in the eyes of the target, Binder going into a cartwheel and as he comes to hand upside down above the mace he thrusts a small arm forth, a single finger touching one of the spikes on the massive weapon. During this moment he makes a physical link to his target, or so one would believe. Locking onto the physical structure with his energies and due to the connection by hand he can make an attempt at pipelining an attack to Tenishna. His right hand would be the one to touch down while his left forearm begins to jiggly violently before bursting forth in a gelatinous manner, the burst doesn't extend very far from the arm itself. Perhaps six inches before surging back in to form a--
23:29:59 FASHBINDER --high tech cannon of sorts with a barrel about five inches wide in diameter. Energies rapidly swarming into this cannon to grant it a brilliant blinding white glow, taking him towards Tenishna's torso and now coming through with his primary action. He'll attempt to link through to Tenishna mind, through the physical connection. An attack on the cerebral plane, a massive electromagnetic pulse sent forth in an effort to hinder or possibily disable Tenishna. Perhaps, his physical fortifications might disappear allowing for the firing of a three foot wide in diameter beam of charged particle energy to prove useful. The chance of punching a hole through the torso is rather high if such defenses are brought down enough. Meanwhile, Fash continues to glow, at this point he is engulfed in a blinding white light which also shines forth on the coliseum around them, making everything rather difficult to view, the aforementioned distortions prominent enough to cause ripples in the air.
23:40:52 [TheArtist] He gets to work, passionately; his whole arm moving with the paintbrush, which glides about the canvas so very smoothly. Flawless lines, perfect curves, and vivid colors all come forth from this tool of painting, though, there wasn't a dab, bucket, or bit of actual paint anywhere to be seen. Oh, how wonderful! What he painted was almost as a photograph, but, it held to it a certain makeshift art that could not be seen in such a direct copy. It was, indeed, true beauty. What was it, you ask, he was painting? Why, it was the exact scene infront of him (which he seemed to pay no attention to, mind you). Though, t'was odd, how much of the canvas was taken up by sheer white! It was that one being, and his incessant white-light. Our artist frowned at this pure blemish upon his work, and, reluctantly, scribbled about the white upon his canvas. The light which engulfed Fash dimmed, and became but a pretty glimmer - it had no other actual affect, save for the simple dimming of light, mind you. -c-
23:41:11 [TheArtist] -c- He smiled, and nodded in approval of his magnificent workings. It was much more aesthetically pleasing with this improvement. -- Without hesitation, though, quickly, he ran the paintbrush about the canvas five times; creating, in the scene, a star; which became a pentagram - thanks, kindly, to the circle of the coliseum's build. How, though, this painting effected the true environment, for the ground was marked with horridly deep trenches, which were, when one looked into them, as black as the paint that was used to paint them!
23:56:11 -§§-Tenishna :: The masked visage would shift as Binder pounced upon his form, a dull not of curiosity manifesting in a humm from burried vocals. The attack upon the Knights cerebrals would be noted, and apparently dissipated with minimal effort. The other was attempting to fry circuts which were not there in any traditional sense. The electric energy would cackle about and through the Knights form as he watched the transformation of the other arm, the others attack lost within a sea of artificial moter devices. The processing unit, the brain or cerebral unit of the juggernaut was not of organic nature, and in fact seemed to work outside of the binds of electricity as the fluxuations did nothing. The Knight would sigh as the gun was formed, and fired. The blow would land 'pon the Knights chest and find laying there cousins of the runes which still work to thwart the astral bombardment, the defensive batteries flaring to incredible life. The blast would be taken in and meerly dissipated among those<C>
23:56:13 -§§-Tenishna <C>supernatural channels, the entity of the runes veteran to assaults of this nature. The blast would strike the surface and the membrane would register the peculiars of that blasts energy and find it quickly beaten into a nonlethal form. Like throwing bricks at a brick wall, the blast packing, presumably, no trick in its punch would find the armour unsusceptable to its harm. Kid, the Knight would groan, as if he were on the verge of collapsing due to fatigue, I'm a castle. The Knights left arm would raise slowly, arching towards his own chest. You are an ant. The hand would flinch and penetrate the Knights own chest, the fist sinking deep into the metals of the torso, the rupture causing an explosive inferno to spew from the wound. Be - creative. The last comment a yell, laced with apparent pain, . The hand would fly out again, holding in its grasp a writhing figure composed of light fog that would be tossed to his <C>
23:56:17 -§§-Tenishna <C>side, landing awkardly on the ground. The explosion from the Knights chest would, surley, burn away the form of Binder, as the inferno were laced with far more destructive entities than meere terrestrial flame. Thing of it as fire, for your mind, body, and soul. As the initial explosion would die down to a slow burn which began to consume the entire body, the Knight would fall backwards, and land heavily 'pon the earth. As he fell, the thing which he pulled from himself in this apparent suicidal spell would stand, and would reveal itself as a woman composed of, seemingly, nothing but cloud. She would gaze about curiously, as from within the wretched hole in the Knights chest there came a sadistic cackle. ::
00:15:38 FASHBINDER - Taking in the corresponding events, Binder grits his teeth and emits a low growl, "Son of a bitch..." Watching as the entity shoved a hand into himself with a new found interest before the resulting explosion. His entire form gaining a gelatinous texture, streaming away from his position and coming to land in a splat about five feet ahead of Fash, quickly shooting up from the ground to reform, a bit spooked by the properties of the inferno. As for Fash, the distortions having established themselves would now serve their purpose, granted ample time without interruption, one assumes they can safely claim that he successfully creates a demi-plane at this time which encompasses the fighting pit area.
00:29:10 [TheArtist] The man strokes his chin in hesitation. This stroking of the chin was an obvious implication to his thoughts. You see, the very ways his fingers moved about his own skin told that he thought the painting needed something. The way his thumb twitched told, of course, that he thought the painting needed more sophistication. The light squinting of the eyes told, quite apparently, that this sophistication had to come with age. You see? His very thought process is depicted in the subtle gestures. He begins painting, and, in the center of this chaos slowly materialized a table, and the figure of a humanoid. T'was a man of age, quite old, mind you - yet it was as obvious as the artist's own thoughts that time had not beaten down upon this man to the point of great inconvenience. He sat, calmly, sipping at a cup of tea, admiring the environment about him, which he was obviously used to. The fine-china set upon his table, coupled with the silk table-cover made him feel right at home. -c-
00:29:48 [TheArtist] -c- The wrinkles of his face curved upwards in a pleasured grin; oh, to be home again!
00:36:05 -§§-Tenishna :: A hand would bolt from the wound in the Knights chest, lanky, distorted, rippling in and out of focus like a television with bad reception, aglow with a sickly red haze, and pulling to surface the rest of a disgustingly distorted man adorned in a red tuxedo, and matching top hat. He would be cackling, insanly. This!He would gasp, yelling lowdly as the effects of Fash's demiplane were surley manifesting, and he pulled himself entierly out of the wound. He would gaze upon the forms of Fash and Biner, while his left hand guestured awkwardsly towards the lady of cloud. This is the Second! His voice would lower, in what one could call an attempt to be seductive, his gaze peeling from Fash and Binder to land on the woman. She is the Lover, a grin would split his face, and he would cuckle softly. And I! His voice would raise splendidly again, as he swept his gaze towards Fash and Binder, bowing deeply, and removing his hat as he did so, letting spill a mess of long, tangled<C>
00:36:11 -§§-Tenishna <C>brown hair. I am the Third, the Psycho! The Lover would not speak as she rushed towards the side of the Knight as Psycho stepped away, towards the forms of Fash and Binder, straightening his lanky form, and again gracing his head with his hat. Now, the Demiplane, which has seemed to been ignored so far. One may not find it odd that the beings present this day in this match against Fashbinder would have encountered the likes of this technique before, and were not unprepared. The build of of energies from Fash were noted before hand, and properly taken care of as a massive defensive engine was put in place before the completion of Fash's spell. The Pentagram. I'm afraid we've hit a rut. Psycho would lisp, as he meandered almost drunkenly towards the pair. You see this shape, his arms would spread wide, guesturing to the enviroment around him, specifically the pentagram, Is here for a reason. Another cuckle. Let you be king of that domain! Manipulate it as you will!<C>
00:36:15 -§§-Tenishna <C>He would spin in a circle on his heel, before continuing to close the distance. This, again with the arm guestures, Is ours. The manifestations present would, indeed, find themselves oddly safe. They would reside each within their own pockets of the protection granted by that Pentagram, resilient to the effects of the creation of that Demiplane and the influence it will have. On the plane of this shape and these pockets of its manifestation lay a reality still waiting to be bridged by the Demiplane. It would take more than simple manifestation to leak its influence in these waters. As the Psycho were to walk and talk, the Lover would be working her magic 'pon the Knight, and the Fourth would be manifesting his elderly self in the midst of this game. ::
01:04:58 FASHBINDER - Fash would grin as the technique did not follow through, it was a surge of adrenaline due to victory not being anywhere within reach at this point. Something psychotic of the sort. The noted pentagram, a failure to note on his behalf, who could be responsible for this thing? It didn't seem like the target was the creature, however; this would not cross him from the equation. Perhaps, he was dealing with a proxy and was not going up against difficult to trace energies. Hrm, maybe, but then again maybe not. An allie? Would he actually take help in order to vanquish Fashbinder? He didn't know much of the forces that stood before him, so it was also not out of question. A brief scan on part of his lavender irises would give way to the artist. "No effin' way... Yes effin' way." Vision zooming in on the canvas and looking over the works before sighing, "How soon? Very soon? Approximate? Good. Indeed, no, not at all. Very good. I like." Fash would look over the ground before upnodding Binder--
01:05:24 FASHBINDER --before kicking off the ground, levitating above it only a few inches. Binder in turn having his feet upon the ground, established physical connection would allow for him to focus his energies into the seal. Energies traveling along it's frequency to the source, or what was thought to be the source, the canvas. If successful on it's track then the canvas would explode, going off like a nuke. Pipe-lining his energies once again. This serves to force the artist to break the seal, and since he's using a more direct method to infiltrate, it's likely that such action will have to be taken in a standard scenario. If the link is not broken then the atoms of the canvas itself will succumb to manipulation, accelerating the particles and causing it to go off right in the artist's face. Meanwhile, Fash's distortions would remain, opening the doors to his demi-plane, while remaining ever vigilant of his partner's well being and in fact his mind steered a bit from the demi-plane's construction. He'll lend his mind to--
01:06:07 FASHBINDER --possibly shatter a possible defense.
23:17:27 FASHBINDER enters this room
23:17:27 -§§-Tenishna enters this room
23:21:18 TheArtist enters this room
23:39:08 [TheArtist] The canvas hadn't shaken the smallest bit (it may be easily noticed, though, that tracing the path which connected to it was horribly simple). This old man, though, was taken back - and, it was quite obvious that he was both immensly surprised, and horridly disappointed. For some reason, his beautiful depiction, the one which so innocently rested upon the canvas, has been erased! Completely wiped out, and, the canvas sat there blank, once again. How odd, how frustrating! -- The coliseum, and everything within it, reverted into a white. A white. Of course, the formal rules of the english language may require that a noun be used, but, in this case, that is impossible - for there is no noun. It is all but a white. Fash and Tenishna may be explained as floating, though, there was nothing to float above, or below. They could be explained as standing, but, there is no ground to stand upon. -- Everything was but a white. -c-
23:39:28 [TheArtist] -c- Slowly, though, the Coliseum began rematerializing, though, it's form not as perfect as before. -- The old man sat at his canvas, and painted hastilly.
00:12:56 -§§-Tenishna :: The elderly man would be sitting at his table grinning patiently in the midst’s of this madhouse of events. The world would turn white, and he would sip his drink calmly. Hello, ‘gents. He would say softly, a volume soft enough that one would not expect normal ears to pick up those sound waves, and yet his comrades would respond in turn. The Psycho would halt in his tracks, tilting his head awkwardly towards the side, and voice his recognition. ‘ello gov’ner. He would spin around and grin towards the elderly figure. And my lady The Old Man would nod towards the Lover, whose expression and gaze were indecipherable, for facial appearances were simply not there. Fancy seein’ you here! Psycho would chime, ever childish in mannerisms. A feat of apparent necromancy would occur as an ever tired Knight would sit up. Shut up, Psycho. He would side with the Lover rising from his side, sighing purposefully an deeply, and the Old Man would chuckle.<C>
00:12:58 -§§-Tenishna <C>The elder would have produced a briefcase which was now situated ‘pon the table top, fitting in well despite the tables attire. The lid would be popped, and the insides confined in shaded darkness. The hands and gaze would be lost within those depths, both obviously doing something inside of that box. Whatever, the Psycho would turn again towards Fash and Binder. Specifically Fash, this time. The steps would continue, and what steps they would be! The properties of a pentagram held together by the sorcery of, visibly, four entities suspended in the milk-white of this black existence would find no difficulty in landing solidly on the apparent nothingness. He would walk towards Fash, and he would steam with a strange red steam, and he would pass, invited or not, through those unlocked doors of the demiplane, with an expression which revealed only: ‘Sup, guys. The Knight would stir, placing his massive hand upon the Lovers back, lingering there only as his arm lagged behind as he traveled<C>
00:13:00 -§§-Tenishna <C> in a similar fashion, a feint white smoke of his own pulsing slowly from his form. The Lover would blow him a kiss, and the aura would surge, before resorting back to a placid state. The Knight moved again towards Binder. Don’t you all look splendid. The elderly man would comment, eyes never leaving that box of his. And thus it would be, as the Lover moved to stand by the Old Mans side, and the Psycho and the Knight marched across unseen bridges towards that demiplane of Fash and Binders. This, understandably, created a sort of link between the two planes, offering a ground upon which influence was able to be shared, thus the ability of transition. One was fully aware that they were marching into a zone where the enemies influence was understandably strong, yet they lay tethered to cords of power radiated from their own abode. One may note that as Binders feet were on the ground and attempted to create a direct physical connection with the seal, one may not have completed<C>
00:13:07 -§§-Tenishna <C> such an activity in its full. The ground was now, supposedly, gone, and yet the image of a pentagram remained in deep dark contours. This may be attributed to the said notion that the pentagram was a thing of its own accord, and not a structure simply within the Coliseum. Binder would not have previously been able to stand upon the pentagram, and thus make his connection with it. Now, however, as realms of influence were bridged, possibilities change. ::
01:04:56 [FASHBINDER] : - How would Fash deal with such? Lavender hues scanning the blank scenario. White. Nothing but white. Binder gritting his teeth in frustration, this was unexpected. What to do, what to do. Ah, just then, a portal shreds into existence and out comes Animus, Fash's right hand man. He wasn't in his standard form, in fact he was rather massive, around the Knight's build. His body depicted no details, no clothing or facial features at all, his form was like a blank slate with just the bare basics. A pitch black humanoid silhouette. Binder seemingly backing off, with a snap of his wrist his left arm would take the form of a blade. Lunging forth towards the Knight and the Psycho, as distance is closed between them his eyes would zoom in on the targets, choosing his attack point. Coming in at around ten feet, his left arm would flicker out of view, stretching forth and making swift cutting motions. The knife is not being used to cut them, the air is being used to cut them. Now, understandably, if he took shots--
01:05:20 FASHBINDER --from boulders, how could cutting winds possibly hurt him? Supposedly, everything has a beginning and end. Binder, at the moment is able to see lines on the targets which depict the end, if a cut was made along this line then the target would instantly be severed along this line. Not only lines, but Binder can also see prominent dots which sit upon the intersection of these lines, if stabbed, could destroy the target beyond regeneration. To slashes. The cutting air would be rushing forth in the form of a horizontal slice to the waist of each. Animus, coming into view and using Fash's established manifestations to allow for his influence to seep forth. Slamming his hands together in a clapping motion, then pulling them apart in a vertical motion, one arm goes down, while the other goes up, coming out to be held up at either side. A mere centimeter away from the old man, directly behind him. From within this space would rip forth the Deadzone. Makeo-Jin signature. Exploding into view and shredding the--
01:05:43 FASHBINDER --returning earth apart in a considerably volatile manner. This Deadzone acts as a funnel. Fash closing his demi-plane now, if the old man or any of the others are pulled in, then they will end up in his reality.
01:33:27 [TheArtist] Again, the painter strokes his chin in thought, his expression showing that he is, obviously, displeased with this drawing. "I must... remember to take care of it, sooner or later." Ah! His face brightens up at the new idea, for, he had just the simplest of devices to constantly remind him. From within this artist's sleeve came forth a red marker, which he proceeded to, without hesitation, uncap. Over and over the tip of the marker circled around Fash's figure, which was, undoubtedly, drawn upon the canvas (before this demi-plane was completely closed, mind you). And, as one could easily guess, the red lines manifested in the battle, completely cutting off, quite simply, any connections between what is inside the bubble - and what is outside. -- The man looks to his marker, and gasps with surprise - promptly following through with a string of foul words. Upon the side of it read, Permanent Marker. "I only wanted to remind myself, not destroy my creation!"
NihilisticSigh (1:44:30 AM): Yo.
NihilisticSigh (1:44:32 AM): Tenishna.
AgoldenFishy (1:44:33 AM): Hi.
NihilisticSigh (1:44:48 AM): I submit. I can't think of anything anymore.
NihilisticSigh (1:44:50 AM): I'm done.
NihilisticSigh (1:44:56 AM): Kill me or whatever.
NihilisticSigh (1:45:12 AM): Postponing a fight really does fuck me up.
NihilisticSigh (1:45:47 AM): You wanna post a one hit kill, whatever. I'm done with the fight though.
AgoldenFishy (1:45:44 AM): If you submit this way it will be unconditionally. I'll kill your character past ressurection.
NihilisticSigh (1:45:51 AM): Out of creativity.
NihilisticSigh (1:46:12 AM): Well I guess I'm fucked.
NihilisticSigh (1:46:15 AM): Whatever.
AgoldenFishy (1:46:21 AM): Alright.
AgoldenFishy (1:46:44 AM): Would you like me to write a formal post? Finishing this one will still take a while.
NihilisticSigh (1:47:04 AM): Do whatever you desire.
NihilisticSigh (1:47:21 AM): Like I said, I'm done.
AgoldenFishy (1:52:16 AM): (Shrug) You put up a good show, for what it's worth.
AgoldenFishy (1:52:26 AM): Artist's post will understandably end the situation.
NihilisticSigh (1:52:38 AM): Cool.
01:51:25 TheArtist sighs, shaking his head; obviously displeased at his work. Again, from his pocket, flings forth something. 'Tis a white bottle of... white-out. He proceeds to spread it about the figures of Fash, Binder, the opening to the demi-plane, Animus. -- He, then, quite promptly, draws the Coliseum's missing parts (due to the whiteout) back as they were, without these figures.
02:26:34 FASHBINDER - What could be said of the events? A wide eyed glance and a scream of frustration from Fash as Binder stood there, frozen, shaking his head. "Tch." Animus dropping his arms, a deep sigh of regret as his efforts proved useless. "Marvelous; the entity whom first showed me a glint of defeat... later came back to thoroughly imprint the realization of destruction." All of his manifestations, his range of influence disappearing. They'd all begin to fade away, Fash clicking his tongue and shrugging softly, "My only regret is that I never got your name." Through and through, The Fashbinder Supremacy's final stand. Without further delay, they'd be gone from sight in accordance to the painting, never to be seen again. "I... am the supremacy." A few irrelevant words muttered by the psychotic super demon in his last moment, lingering in the air for just a few moments before all is gone, hanging on to the days of glory. Tsk.