The Arena [Epic Mode Enabled]

[Rolling Thunder]

Good day everybody! I've decided it's time to take the Arena to a new level. The rules are as follows:

1. No God-Modding. You have no direct control over anothers' character; they must acknowledge the effect of your actions for them to take place.
2. Be creative! Let's move beyond one-line action and pretense. Let's set a scene, set the mood, set the sky on fire with literary skill. I know this forums' got buckets of it, so let's put it to the test! This is the 41st Millennium. Use it wisely.
3. Keep the posting in-character, if you don't mind. Keep the OOCmatters to PMs, other threads, or start an OOC thread for it.

________The Start Line__________


The thick, long-dead dust lay upon the floors of the arena, choking it, smothering and obscuring all but the most fantastic of it's scars and former glories. Here, the crumpled ruin of a Druchii fortress, torn apart by rage. There, the antique bones of a hideous monster, blown to pieces by human ingenuity. There, reality, still thin from the hideous, arcane sorcery unleashed, unreality shimmering faintly in the antique air. This arena stretches on, as old and vast as creation itself, worlds and stars swallowed up as a killing-ground for it's champions.

But past glory is past glory, and there must be new blood. Creation demands it, and, as the doors to this blood-soaked realm are torn open, and you stare upon it, it must be asked: Who's blood shall it be?

[Cadian 117]

The vehicle fell silently through the inky black of space. Its propulsion systems long since shed, it plummeted into the atmosphere with the grand arena laying below it. It had a strange shape, square and brutish but somewhat elegant. As it neared the floor of the Colosseum a parachute burst from a hidden spot on the top of the small craft. Into the floor it dug burying itself 3 feet deep into the dark stained floor. A large panel explodes off it's hinges flying a few feet in front of the vehicle. Stepping onto the edge of the crafts doorway a single masked figure stood.

His humanoid shape is roughly outlined with a fully body suit of armor, his face covered by a helmet but through a visor his brown eyes can be made out. The figure reaches to his right and left and retrieves his equipment. In his right hand a relatively small firearm, larger than a pistol but smaller than a rifle. The magazine loads from the side, a silencer on the barrel and an optic resides on top. In his left hand a massive dual barreled launcher of sorts. SPNKR is engraved on one of the barrels. He slings up the larger weapon and steps down from his craft.

"Cadian has entered the game!" bellows a voice from all directions and none at the same time. His visor fades to black as he raises his weapon.

[Lord General Armstrong]

The dust that coated the long secluded arena began to kick and stir. A small orb, flickering and colored in florescent purple. The energy pulse, this warp gate began to part and merely grow in size as it tore at realspace. Lighting, inaudible whispers promising anything and everything for those with the ability to hear them. A single silhouette making itself into view as it tumbled and turned, fumbling, rolling out of this hellspace.

The man collapsing upon the ground, his armor smoking and slightly chard by those energies. The portal almost seeming to laugh at him, began to close, with a final flicker of bright light then it was gone. "Frakken warp damnation's where the Emperors beneficent mercy am I now? Where's the Commissar, where's the battlegroup?" The man began to question as he clambered himself to a stand.

He clutched his elaborate weapon, his rifle connected to his back mounted energy pack via a lengthened power cable. Himself glancing around this ... arena his hotshot pressed against his shoulder and his sights tracing across the area. The man clad in carapace and equipt with rebreather, stood pondering his armor lovingly cared for, anointed by holy oils, blessed by the machine god, decorated by sanctified rites. His badge of office, more than met the eye a device to disperse the energy of an incoming shot or blows via the means of a protective energy field, those familiar with Imperial technologies would have recognized it as a refractor field generator.

Though his armor did not designate his esteemed rank, the arenas loudhailer soon did. "Lord General Armstrong has entered the game!"

[Kaikelx]

Soon after, the voice bellowed "Kaikel Xiang has entered the game!"

Yet, not a soul appeared. The skies remained clear, the ground on the horizon was undisturbed, and the air remained still. Only the shadows flickered, like a perverse illumination of the field of twilight.

A sound clicked through the air. The unmistakable click of a bolt sliding shut, the universal sound of danger. Not long after, a second voice reverberated around the arena, different from the mysterious announcer's. For this one was mortal, with only a hint of an echo of a machine.

"They will quake at my shadow."

[Laughing Man]

"Mwaaaahahahahaha"

The mocking laughter echoed across the vox-link.

He stood in the centre of spherical room it's walls entirely mirrored as he stared at a billion copies of himself and spoke.

"Don't worry friends the Laughing Man will soon bring you all the joy you could ever need."