Raiden's Great NPF RP Contest: Fight Thread
 

Post your fight entries here.

Remember that unless you post in both the Fight thread and the Story thread, your entries will not be judged.

And if you haven't signed up yet but still want to compete, the sign-ups are still open.

So, I want a good, clean fight. Ready? GO!

And, my fight scene, In a BattleTech setting.

19:43 IGMT, Planet Verian IV, Verian System, Jade Falcon Circle of Equals.

Verian VI was not exactly a premier assignment for an ambitious Jade Falcon Officer, but Star Commander Alise Pryde had more pressing issues than stopping to worry about the environmental conditions of her post. Infrequent rain sprinkled across the hastily-created open-air circle which would act as a traditional dueling arena. As per clan customs, grievances within the ranks were resolved not in lengthy, weak-minded court systems, but rather, on the field of battle, in single, honorable combat. Alise Pryde held once such grievance. A subordinate commander of the second star in her binary had countermanded her battle plans, and, as a result, nearly brought disaster to both of their battlemech stars. The two stood unflinchingly a few meters apart in the light rain, under the twilight twin suns of Verian IV. Her opponent, Mechwarrior Tycho, was a strong, large man, with black hair and grizzly facial features. Alise, the one holding the grievance against Tycho, finally spoke, delivering her batchall, and requesting Tycho propose terms.

“I, Star Commander Alise Pryde, of the Jade Falcon Clan, hereby bring my grievance of willful disobedience of orders under fire upon Mechwarrior Tycho. I claim a Trial of Grievance for this disgraceful act.”
“Very well, Star Commander.” Tycho replied, emotionless, “Till yeild, knives.”
“To the death, Swords.”
Tycho flinched, “Minimal Clothing.”
“Well bargained, and done.” Alise agreed, finalizing the terms, and removed her commander’s over-jacket, tossing it on the ground.
“Well bargained… and done.” Tycho affirmed.

A pair of techs hastily brought the warriors their weapons, and the witness of the duel called it to a beginning. Alise stood firm, hoping to take advantage of her opponent’s reckless use of his brawn rather than his brain. Tycho did, charging her the exact moment the duel began, blade poised for a thrusting blow. Alise leapt sideways, knocking Tycho’s blade off of it’s mark. The large warrior quickly brought it around for a large, sweeping slash, but he was too high, and Alise deftly ducked under it, scoring an attack of her own on his undefended right shin. Tycho yelled in pain, catching Alise off guard with a left-handed punch into her stomach, knocking her backward, quickly following up with an overhand sword blow, which Alise managed to deflect with a nimble parry, stepping inward and using her momentum to drive her left elbow into the man’s sternum. Tycho shrugged off the blow, with some difficulty, opting to sweep his commander’s legs out from under her with a kick from his useful leg, but losing his own balance in the soft, wet mud of the circle as he did, taking both of the warriors to the ground.

Alise was up first, hastily making for a downward killing blow atop the now prone Tycho. With unexpected speed, however, he managed to swing his sword at her chest, causing Alise to jump away and abort her attack, suffering only a wide rip across her undershirt at gut-level. Growling with rage, Tycho attempted to stand, but Alise did not permit him a moment to regain his damaged footing. With a deft flanking step, she made to stab at his side, piercing a great deal of his left side, under the ribs.

Tycho screamed with newfound anger, twisting and rising, knocking Alise’ blade from her hand, the weapon landing inches outside of the circle’s crude wooden-stake boundaries. However, without a weapon, Alise was far from helpless. She dashed in past his blade as he followed through with his disarm, planting her right foot into his wounded side with a swift roundhouse kick. Blood poured from the gaping wound, and the warrior staggered around, trying to shield his wounded side from his assailant. But she was far too nimble for him, reversing her circle pattern and striking from behind with falcon speed, Alise constantly pounded Tycho’s kidneys and spine with her fists and feet, knocking to man to his knees. She kicked his sword clean from his right hand, retrieving it as her own before it made contact with the ground, stepping backwards and setting herself up for the killing blow. Tycho, however, was counting on this.

In his feigned weakness, he has managed to fish a large stone out of the ground with his left hand, whirling it and slinging it at Alise’ head as she closed in for the kill, connecting with a loud crack of stone-on-bone. The Star Commander staggered backwards, clutching her now-bleeding face. Knowing he was still outclassed, Tycho crawled for the boundary on the circle, knowing that if he could reach it, he would forfeit the duel, but save his life. Better to lose honor and live to gain it back another day, than to die to a superior opponent. Alise recovered sooner than he had hoped, though, and in her blood-covered face lie that maniacal grin of a clan warrior savoring her next kill.

Tycho inched closer to one of the wooden stakes at the edge of the field, only 3 feet or less away as his opponent charged toward him, her expression joyful, sword raised, poised to pounce on the man and drive the vicious endo-steel battle implement into his exposed flesh. He was less than six inches away as she impaled him with his own blade, her cold, blue eyes glittering with the accomplishment. The trial-witness sighed, and clapped without enthusiasm, as though the duel was completed as per the terms laid by the duelists, the wasted loss of a trueborn mechwarrior was not a fortuitous occurrence.

“Ok, I got a pair.” The big no-toothed idiot smiled, revealing every bright red inch of gum in his mouth. I looked at his pair of Kings and swore. I promised myself I wouldn’t cheat this hand. For a second my conscious didn’t really press charges so I deftly slipped a three and a seven into my sleeve, replacing them with Aces.

“Pair of Aces.” I smiled back.

“Yeah, well sorry to ruin the fun fellas, but a four of a kind beats them both.” The small guy to my left laid down his hand. I glanced at his hand and chuckled.

“You’ve actually got five of a kind.” Damn amateurs.

“Well it looks to me like your pair is both clubs.” Shit. Fuck you irony.

I make it a practice to always get the first shot in these situations. My free hand, in accordance with the unwritten laws of saloon poker, had been holding my gun under the table the entire game and it didn’t take long to put a bullet in no-tooth’s gut. While he curled over I flipped the table up, more for my fun than anything else since it got shot to crap once little guy began firing blindly attracting the owner of the fine establishment who emptied a shotgun into my three second cover.

I cocked back the six-shooter and got small-guy between the eyes. Owner made me duck and waste a shot while I went for cover, but two bullets to the chest usually takes a guy out of the running and he was no different. I tried to make a run for the door but got clotheslined by another of the participants. I took another blow to my nose before I could aim the barrel and pull the trigger, splattering my ambusher’s knee bone over the hardwood.

After he was done collapsing I made a not-so-much dramatic exit into the open air, where a shotgun butt smacked me from the side. As I went down I fired off a shot near the space where I assumed the attack had come from.

“You’re aim sucks something bad lately.”

“Heh, thanks Sheriff. What’s the bounty on me these days? Am I paying for a years worth of liquor yet?” I rubbed my mouth and wiped away the blood as the good ol’ lawman stood over me, the twin barrels of his weapon looming over me. “I assume they still give the money over even though the bounty escapes all the time?”

“Times change quick around here. Turns out you’re worth more dead.”

I couldn’t think up a witty response before the shells entered my head.

The team fell back to their last bunker. Even with all their planning, they hadn't stood a chance against the Terror Wraith. Sid let the slayer sword slip from his hand as he slumped against a wall. "We can't beat that thing. It's stronger, bigger, and uses our own terror against us." Vaness looked up from her post. They'd left her here as a final fresh fighter. "So it uses fear, huh? Well, there's an easy way to kill it." She slid out of her chair and slinked across the room. "Hand me that sword." Sid was too tired to argue, so he acquiesced. Half out the door, she leaned back and said, "It's just a matter of not feeding it."

The wind slapped her in the face when she left the bunker. Black clouds whirled wildly in the sky; purple lightning flashed from the ground. The wind crashed across the beach, blasting away thought with its volume. Green waves with black foam soared hundreds of feet, then crashed straight down into the sea. Framed by this towered the Terror Wraith. It was a mass of black and gray bandages, entwined around a sable shadow. It was humanoid, with a head hundreds of feet high, football field shoulders, and a powerful torso leading to two feet like tanks. Tendrils whip from all over its body and from the ground. Pure terror spirals around all of it, shielding it from all harm. One look at this creature of pure malice and terror would destroy even powerful men. But Vaness was ignoring it, ready to start her plan.

The wind stopped for an instant, and a beautiful alto was heard across the beach.
She charged forward and stabbed right when the trumpet blare would be.
The blow glanced off its shield, but left a scratch. The wind picked back up, but Vaness kept singing above the wail.
The Terror Wraith launched its own attack, lashing at Vaness with its tendrils. However, it was already weakening, Vaness too caught up in remembering the words to feed it any terror. She easily parried the blows, then swiped at its shield, cracking it further.
Another blow, another crack in the confused Wraith's shield.
Vaness pulled back her sword to smash the shield. The tendrils grabbed the sword as she pulled it behind her head. A look of terror flashed on her face. Laughing, the Wraith grew even larger and more powerful. With one last surge of strength, Vaness gave her all and sang with more conviction than ever before:
The tendrils withdrew, and Vaness slammed the slayer sword into the shield. It shattered and the sword tasted the Terror Wraith's shadowy flesh. That was all the slayer sword, forged of pure glee, needed. It fulfilled its purpose and obliterated the Wraith like antimatter.

Vaness trudged back to the bunker. Throwing the sword to the floor, she spat, "If any of you tell anyone that I can sing, I'll rip your innards through your mother's mouth." The story was that the Wraith tripped. There were no objections.

To enhance the experience of this entry, please be sure to read it's prelude in the Narrative thread.

With every answer, ten more questions arise. Truth be told, this is going to leave you hanging. But, if you read my Narrative entry first, there will be the small sense of satisfaction that some old friends have come out to play one last time.

I present to you, Demon's Fight Entry: Bullet Time.

Enjoy!

OOC: This is a sequel to the post in the Story Thread. Also note that my post is too long, so I have to split it into two separate posts.

Freedom

The sound of a vast, cheering crowd greeted Garreth’s ears as the massive door into the Coliseum burst open to reveal a great, circular arena with thousands of people standing and screaming by the tiers. Similar doors opened from every side of the arena, and other gladiators and heavily-armed warriors marched out in unison. The guard by Garreth’s entryway nudged him forward and he – for the first time in his entire life when it came to killing – reluctantly marched out into the arena.

Garreth was dressed in adamantine mail, a suit of armor he had “extracted” from an elven prince in one of his assassination missions. The armor was as light as a feather and as hard as a dragon’s scale; only the best weapons of the realm could pierce through its fine metal rings. Belted by Garreth’s side were two, gleaming pair of blades; Painkiller, as fine a scimitar as any other magical blade in the realms. It’s razor-sharp, curved blade could shear through a man’s skull before he even felt the pain, as the scimitar’s name so aptly implies it to be. Many a man had fallen under its wicked steel – as it previous owner had learned, when Garreth plunged it into his heart. Painkiller’s counterpart, Entropy, was no less dangerous – nor less awe-inspiring. A magnificent greensteel blade – a rare, glowing metal – that once belonged to a famous traveling bard from the city of Sigil, a skilled warrior named Haer’Dalis’, who was unfortunate enough to be a target of one of Garreth’s many employers. As a result, the blade fell into the hands of one more suitable to its unique properties - Garreth. The magically enchanted blade was an assassin’s blade, after all, since it possessed an unlimited supply of poison on its sharp edges. One nick from the blade’s tip could put a man to sleep forever. It would do the blade no honor by placing it in the hands of a singing fighter – though Haer’Dalis’ was no mere “fighter”. In addition to the deadly blades, cunningly hidden in Garreth’s boots and belt were several poison-tipped knives. These could come in handy should the opportunity arise – such as now.

Arrayed in a two-line formation in front of him were scores of warriors, all veterans who had survived the hardship of the unmerciful Death Gauntlet, as this arena was so aptly called, where only the toughest and strongest survive. As Garreth moved to join them – though Garreth loathed the act – the gladiators as one turned towards the main pavilion where Dignitus and several important-looking officials of the kingdom sat watching. Garreth was unsure as to what Dignitus had planned in that deviously cunning mind of his, but Garreth couldn’t careless. He was here for what he was offered – freedom.

Dignitus rose from his seat and raised his hand in the air towards the amassed warriors, and everyone in the arena watched that hand intently, even anxiously. And after making sure he had everyone’s attention – for the entire coliseum had quieted – he dropped his hand, signaling the match to begin.

And as quickly as the signal came, the gladiators in the ring drew their weapons in unison, and the sound of steel against steel soon followed as the battle-hardened warriors all struggled to slay one another.

Painkiller slid off its sheath in a flash, just in time to block the strike of a warrior’s sword aimed at his head. Entropy followed quickly – too quickly, in fact, for the gladiator, experienced as he was, to see – and neatly plunged into the man’s chest. The warrior’s eyes widened in surprise, as if not understanding how the blade could have gotten there so fast, but fell limp as Entropy’s poisoned tip found his heart.

Garreth had no time to savour his victory, as two gladiators, knowing him to be an opponent of unmatched skill – not without some information from Dignitus, Garreth knew - came upon him together, one wielding a scimitar and a crude shield, the other lunged at him with a long 7-foot spear.

Entropy slid off the dead warrior’s chest and knocked aside the charging spear, while Painkiller came in fast to parry the scimitar’s quick strikes. These two were skilled and experienced warriors, Garreth saw, for their stance and attacks were well coordinated, and he found himself hard-pressed to launch a counter-offensive at them. Garreth had no doubt that many unsuspecting warriors had fallen to their cunning maneuver.

After a few moments of unfruitful strikes and blocks, however, Garreth finally found a hole in their defense. Garreth, in a daring move, jumped to the side, directly in between the two warriors, separating them and purposely showing an opening to the spear-wielding gladiator. Taking the bait, he launched his spear directly at Garreth’s back. Anticipating the attack, Garreth fell flat directly unto the ground, and the spear, missing its mark by inches, plunged into the scimitar wielder’s chest instead, killing him instantly.

Shocked and terrified by what he had done, the spear-wielding warrior stared blankly at his dead companion, and did not notice Painkiller’s gleam for a split second. But even a split-second was too long when fighting with one as deadly as Garreth, for the scimitar sliced through his neck before he could raise his spear to block. The gladiator’s head, his face still locked in an expression of utter horror, neatly slipped off his shoulder’s and rolled unto the floor, followed by the heavy fall of the warrior’s dead body.

With Painkiller still dripping in the blood of its latest kill, Garreth looked around to watch the rest of the battle. He noted that, where there was once two score warriors, the battle had now reduced the numbers to no more than a dozen. One gladiator, a fighter dressed similarly to Garreth – also a two-weapon fighter, he noted - with a peculiar looking mask-like helm attached to his head, caught his searching eyes. A freshly slain corpse lay dead at his feet. With two sabers in his hands, the deadly warrior – for that was what Garreth knew him to be, from the way the gladiator walked – strode towards him, his body still locked in a battle-stance.

”Well met, Garreth,” The warrior greeted him. Catching Garreth’s surprise at the knowledge of his name, the gladiator coolly smiled. ”Yes, I do know who you are, Garreth. I’ve been waiting for this moment for a long, long time.”

”Who are you?” Garreth asked him, Entropy and Painkiller rising threateningly towards the masked warrior.

”Do you know not who I am?” The warrior laughed evilly as he said it. With a cruel grin, the warrior tore off his mask and threw it to the ground. It was Jierden Nighthawk. The Betrayer.

OOC: Post 2.

”Jierden,” Garreth hissed and snarled at the sight of his archenemy. With an angry roar, Garreth lunged forward with Painkiller, only to be knocked aside by one of Jierden’s saber. Only quick wits saved him when Entropy rose just in time to block a well-aimed counter-attack from Jierden’s second blade. Entropy, glowing even more brightly than ever as it’s owner’s anger and hatred rose, recovered fast from the strike and slashed forward towards Jierden’s left hip, followed by Painkiller in a cunning attack from the right. However, much to Garreth’s surprise, both attacks proved futile, as Jierden, as skilled as the one he betrayed, coolly parried both blades and even launched an attack of his own, pushing Garreth further back.

”Why?” Garreth managed to hurl out the question in the midst of the battle. ”Why did you betray me?” He said even as he lashed out a series of lightning fast strikes at Jierden’s head, which were foiled by equally quick parries from his archnemesis’ sabers.

”Why?” Came Jierden’s reply even as he turned around and launched a cunning backhand slash at Garreth’s side. Entropy intercepted the attack, and Painkiller came in fast towards Jierden’s unprotected side, but was foiled once again when Jierden’s saber snapped back to push the killing strike away. Entropy shot across towards Jierden’s head again, but like its previous attacks, was foiled as Jierden brought a blocking saber in its path. Garreth jumped away just in time to avoid a low cut at his waist from a cunningly hidden attack with the other blade.

”Why? To replace you, of course,” Jierden finished his sentence. ”You always had the favor of the guildmaster, getting the best contracts while the rest of us lived on the second-rates. No matter how hard I tried, I could not earn the guildmaster’s favor. And now I see why.” An enraged growl escaped Garreth’s lips as he thrust both blades forward. A saber came in to knock the blades away, but Garreth, in a daring maneuver, spun towards the left and brought Painkiller towards Jierden’s hip. Jierden almost allowed the blade to slip past, but with an agility belonging only to the most experienced of warriors, brought down his saber just in time to pin the hungry blade to the side.

”You’re good,” Jierden said then, slipping into a frenzy as the blades clashed in an amazing dance of death as each slice and thrust were parried by the combatants' near-impenetrable defenses. ”Too good.” He finished the line as a throwing knife suddenly flashed past him, missing his head by inches.

Jierden laughed evilly as he came in hard, sabers coming in from both side, and Garreth suddenly found himself pushed back fast as his blades worked hard to intercept the insane flurry. And just as suddenly as the attack came, a saber broke past his defenses and cut into him, making a deep wound in his ribs.
With a howl of triumph, Jierden intensified his attack, and Garreth found that, with the dreadful wound draining his needed strength, he could not keep his ground. Inevitably, a saber came in hard at Painkiller, knocking it loose from Garreth’s grasp, and the scimitar dropped to the floor. Before Garreth could do anything however, Jierden launched a kick at his chest, and with Entropy busily parrying the other saber, he could not defend himself, and was neatly dropped to the floor.

”And so ends the reign of the great Garreth,” Jierden laughed evilly as he brought his saber to Garreth’s neck. ”Time to die.”

Suddenly, Jierden saw his fallen enemy’s eyes widen, and he instantly knew what had happened when he heard the sound of rushing feet behind him. The assassin desperately turned around, and brought a saber up just in time to knock aside the lunge of a spear from a gladiator – the one remaining gladiator, Jierden realized. The gladiator, in his enthusiasm to claim an easy kill, was caught off guard, and therefore had not prepared a suitable defense against any counter-attack. He never learned that important lesson, for a saber came in from the right and brought a deep, red line across his neck, and the foolish gladiator fell to ground with a gurgling sigh.

However, the distraction had cost him dearly – too dearly, Jierden knew – when he heard the whisper of flying steel coming in from behind, and he tried to turn around again to block the inevitable attack. But he was too late, as Entropy plunged into his chest just as he turned, and Jierden suddenly found himself paralyzed as the insidious poison streamed into his blood.

”Yes,” Garreth hissed at his dying enemy as his free hand grasped for the fallen Painkiller. ”It is time to die.” Then he brought the scimitar upwards, slicing across Jierden’s neck, sending his head rolling across the ground, with blood gushing from the deadly wound. And as silent as death, Jierden’s body fell to the ground, lifeless.

"Yes, it is definitely time to die." Garreth repeated as he rose to look at his archnemesis' dismembered corpse. Garreth smiled in triumph at finally having his revenge at Jierden's betrayal. He has won.

Garreth looked around for enemies, but all he saw was dead corpses littered all over the bloodied arena. Looking up to the pavilion, he saw Dignitus rise from his seat and nod approvingly at him. Only then did he notice that the entire arena had fell silent. The crowd was too stunned and awed by the display of skill and prowess in the duel.

He had won. He had paid the price for his freedom.

The entrance of the Coliseum slid open, bidding him to claim his well-earned prize, but Garreth found that he could not move. He had lost too much blood. He took a difficult step towards the gate, but Garreth only found himself dropping down flat towards the floor. He could feel his lifeblood spilling across the tainted ground.

Only one thing crossed his mind as darkness overtook his vision.

Freedom.

OOC: This occurs after my story post.

IC:
An hour had passed since nightfall, and nothing had moved within the cave as far as Kaivir could see. Cautiously he left the cover of the bush that had hidden him from sight, checked his water pouch and pack, lit a torch, and headed into the cave.

For a few minutes he journeyed without incident. The cave turned out to be a tunnel, running in a more or less straight line into the mountainside, angled slightly down. Eventually the tunnel ended in a round chamber, with a smooth, flat floor, well-lit by many torches bracketed to the walls. Set in the far wall was a heavy-looking iron door, and in its centre was a depression, as though something should fit there. In the centre of the chamber stood a warrior dressed in black armour that covered and hid everything, leaving nothing unprotected. In mailed hands the warrior held a longsword, normal except for one thing: the blade glowed a menacing red, as though fresh from the forge. Kaivir had found the first guardian.

Kaivir stepped into the chamber, and the guardian immediately took up fighting stance, red blade leveled at Kaivir's chest. Kaivir advanced slowly, cautiously. He circled his opponent, looking for an opening, but the guardian was equally cautious, keeping its glowing blade pointed at Kaivir's chest, heat radiating palpably against Kaivir's body. Kaivir darted in to test his opponent, and sparks flew from the red blade as the two swords met, leaving a faint glow on the edge of Kaivir's sword. Again he darted in, from another angle, and again the red blade met his amidst a shower of sparks. He attacked a third time, but this time feinted, slipping his blade around that of his opponent, the sharp point finding a chink in the guardian's armour at the base of the helm and forcing itself in.

For a moment, Kaivir stood there, looking at the impassive visor of the helm. Suddenly bright lights burst into Kaivir's awareness, and blinding pain forced him to his knees. He looked up, the pain lancing through his head, just in time to see the guardian raise its sword for the kill. He rolled hard, the glowing blade singing his hair as it bit into the ground where he had been. Kaivir sprang to his feet, spinning around to face the guardian. Its blade had lodged in the ground, and it was tugging at it, trying to free the sword. Kaivir took the opportunity. Darting in, he placed a boot on the plate-clad rear end of the guardian and shoved hard, sending it sprawling. It rolled to its back, hands raised in defense, but was too slow to prevent Kaivir from taking hold of his sword. He pulled, the blade sliding out easily. For a moment, Kaivir just stared at his sword. The end was glowing, as though placed in a fire... Kaivir looked at the guardian again, now getting to its feet, hindered by its heavy armour, and remembered the words of the mysterious Auvain: "...the first guardian cannot touch water..."

Kaivir rammed his shoulder painfully into the hard breastplate of guardian, bearing it down again, and, wasting no time, lifted the visor of the helm. Searing heat blasted from the otherwise empty open helm, making Kaivir lean back to avoid being burned. Hastily he fumbled for his water pouch, unstoppered it, and emptied its contents into the helm. Immediately steam hissed around Kaivir, accompanied by a high-pitched scream, as of tortured metal. Kaivir stumbled back, sword at the ready, watching the cloud of steam for any sign that the guardian was still alive.

Minutes passed, and eventually the steam cleared, revealing the guardian's armour, cracked and broken, lying limp and inanimate on the ground, a huge rent torn in the breastplate. Nearby, the guardian's sword stood in the ground, no longer glowing. Kaivir approached the armour cautiously, and, looking inside the rent, noticed a small object lying on the back-plate. Taking it, he found it to be a small amulet, the design matching the depression on the iron door. When he placed it in the depression, it fitted perfectly with a faint click, and the door swung open on well-balanced hinges. Beyond, the tunnel continued downwards, and Kaivir entered, steeling himself for the next guardian...

The night was cold in the city, but here in the inner ring of the city center it wasn't too bad; the huge donut of a building blocked most of the wind, making it only cool. Naki, in her short green coat and black pants of a gang officer, watched the soldiers as they moved around their camp near the middle. They weren't armed; apparently even Imperial soldiers wouldn't break that law, probably for fear of the gangs getting guns and starting a civil war. But still, they couldn't be allowed to walk around the inner city as if they owned the place, so she was the one who got to take them down.

Behind her, the distraction started, another gang member yelling rude things at the soldiers. About ten of them jumped up and ran in her direction, yelling for him to stay put.

“My turn,” she muttered, and jumped up just as the other soldiers drew level with her. Running ahead of them, she dropped and tripped the lead before being noticed; though the courtyard was concrete, it had tons of rubble spread about, and even some high grass that had grown through cracks. The guard’s speed sent him flying, landing on his face yards short of the decoy. The others were still halting in confusion when she jumped up, like a shadow in her uniform, and charged them.

Just before reaching the first, she slowed and did a front handspring, coming up with both feet under his chin, sending him flying into the man behind him. The two others separated and tried to come at her from separate directions, but she gave them no chance. She rushed the nearest, easily spinning around his hasty punch and slamming her elbow into the back of his skull. Hearing the other behind her, she threw herself sideways, twisting so she was facing him. The tripped man seemed to be unconscious, and the one she had elbowed, but the other two she had hit were getting up, one rather dizzily, and the other six had now put a circle around her. She ducked under a kick, but grabbed the man’s leg and allowed herself to be pulled across the ground as his leg dropped, using the momentum to swing around him and trip the two soldiers, then punched the back of the man’s knee, making him fall to one knee. Locking his head between her legs, she heaved him at the two she had just tripped, using the same motion to get up. The man’s heavy boot caught one, knocking him unconscious as he himself fell on the other man's head. Five were still up.

One charged her and threw a punch; she easily caught it and broke the man's arm with her elbow. The last four tried to attack her together, from all four directions. She ran at one to avoid being surrounded, dropping to a slidetackle; he flew over her, taking a punch in the face as he did. Rolling to a crouch as the last three reached her, she jumped and spun in a roundhouse that took all three across the face. The whole fight had only taken about a minute, but already she could hear the assault on the camp wrapping up; as the most skilled of the gang, she'd taken point, but others had helped as well. The fight finished, Naki walked out of the building.

OOC: This is a prelude to the story post.
__________________________________________________ _____________

The field was peaceful, and stretched on forever. There wasn't so much a tree in sight, only light green grass, flowers, and clouds for as far as the eye could see. Except for two things, of course. First, there was a fountain. It had demons carved into the gold, with blades of diamond. The demons seemed to be dancing or honoring something at the top of the fountain; something that wasn't there. Second, about a hundred or so feet from the fountain, there was a door. Nothing amazing about it. It was just a plain, arched, wooden door with a plain, round, wooden knob. It wasn't a door to a building or anything. It was just a door, standing in the middle of the field. But then, the door opened. Had there been any witnesses, they couldn't have said how long it had been in this eternal field, since this was the first thing to ever change. Yet, the door still opened, and out came a disfigured figure. He wore some pretty shiny obsidian plate mail and a flowing black cape. The armor would have been inspiring if it wasn't twisted to fit a four and a half-foot man with a hump on his back. The man closed the door behind him, and walked all the way to the fountain, limping on his way there. Out from a side pack, he took a transparent red orb, held it up to the sunlight, and it glowed brightly.

Then, the door opened again. Another man walked through, closing the door behind him. This one was wearing a brown leather tunic, a green shirt, blue pants, and pale brown shoes. Unlike the man before him, this one was armed. He had an unsheathed longsword with him. The blade was around five feet long, and was shining like a mirror. "Why are you doing this?" The second man yelled.

"Aaron, Aaron, we've been over this. Only by destroying everything can I make sure I destroy the incarnate of the dreamer. And by killing him, I make sure he remembers me when he wakes up. Thus, I gain immortality. Now, are we going to do this the easy way, or the hard way." The short one squeeked.

"Nar, I won't let you do this."

Nar placed the orb on the fountain. "Its too late. I've already won. The weapon is mine." The demonic portraits came alive, and started to dance. The orb lit up, and the fountain began melting into the ground. In very little time, all that was left was a puddle with the glowing red orb sinking in it. "What? Thats it? What a waste!" Nar walked over to grab the orb. But when he did, he began to sink with it. Soon, he was submerged.

"This can't be how it ends... I haven't even found her yet..." Aaron said aloud, walking back to the door to leave.

"CHUGAGAGAGAGACHUUUUG!" The sound came from the pool. "KREEEEE! WHIIIIRR. SEEEEES." Sounds went on like that. It was as if something was being assembled. Aaron turned around to face the pool, which disappeared. What really startled Aaron was that the field was now whithering away, and the clouds were turning to storm. "KAAA... CHUUUNK!" The final sound was made, then bursting out of the ground was a giant clockwork... weapon.

It was a silver golem, with strange gold and diamond tattoos. Standing nearly sixty feet tall, it tested some magic and the earth shook. Then, Nar's voice boomed deeply, "Hahaha! The Nightmare Orb did work! Now this Nightmare is under my control!" The golem put its hand towards Aaron, then launched a fireball. Aaron jumped to the side, barely dodging the blast.

"I've got the Dreamweaver, you stupid bast-" Aaron shut up as he swung the sword at the fireball, causing it to dissipate. "You really want me to evoke its power, don't you. So be it..." And with that Aaron pointed the sword upward, and was struck by what seemed to be all the sky's fury. When the lightning stopped, he was covered in glossy mithril armor. Another fireball was shot at him, and this time he jumped upward. Instead of going a simple three or four feet, he reached fifty and hovered. He didn't just get a shiny suit, he had wings.

"Hahaha! Once I've finished you off, this Nightmare Golem will be powered by that stupid sword, and the Nightmare will be pure terror!" Nar shouted. This time, the chestplate opened, and motes of light shot out. They spiraled towards Aaron, and hit him dead on. Knocking him out of the sky. Aaron got up on his feet, but couldn't dodge the fireball this time. He was knocked back to the door.

"Don't give up just yet, Aaron." A familiar voice said. "Once we tear this punk a new one, we can find your girlfriend."

Likka, the gargoyl, helped him on his feet again, while the twin children, Fin and Fan, tore apart the earth and bombarded the Nightmare Golem with the environment. "We can't distract him much longer. Aaron, use that sword to kick his ass before we run out of energy." They said in unison.

As Aaron flew up to the sky, the Nightmare Golem made short work of the twins. "No!" He screamed, charging at the mechanism with a fiery passion. The golem put its left arm in the way to defend itself, but the hand was chopped off with ease. The hand shattered and melted when it hit the ground, but the body somehow repaired itself faster than the hand could fall.

"See? I'm indestructable! Even if you can put up a fight, you'll wear out eventually. As long as I've got the Nightmare Orb, all I have to do is pull some levers and I win!" Nar exlaimed.

Thats when the fifth member of the group revealed he scaled the golem. The dwarf took off his cloak of invisibility and put it over the Golem's eyes. Samuel shouted to Aaron, "You heard him! The orb is it's power source! I'll blind him while you hack off parts of his body to see if the orb is there! Hurry, he's gonna be attackin' me!" Just before a hand could rip the dwarf off the head, the gargoyl punched it back.

"I'll keep him busy." Likka said. He began flying around, punching the blind machine.

"Got it." Aaron said, flying to the right hand. With a clean swipe, it met the same fate as the left. It was repaired just as easily. No Nightmare Orb. Flying under the robot, he spun around quickly and cut off the legs. They shattered where they were, but the body floated and rebuilt them. "You're not quite invincible, Nar. I'm getting close." Right after Aaron said that, Likka and Samuel were knocked to the ground, next to the children.

"Its one on one again, Aaron. What are you going to do now? Keep hacking at me, futilly?" The golem opened its chest plate again, but before it could fire, Aaron caught up to it and stabbed the cannons. They overloaded, and the entire mid-section was destroyed except for a small box. The rest of the Nightmare Golem fell to the ground, shattered, and melted, except for this box which was regrowing the golem.

"Found you." Aaron laughed. He took the sword and with all the strength he could muster, swung at the box. It exploded in a mess of strings and cogs and nuts and bolts and one transparent red orb in the hands of one very tall, very menacing man in obsidian plate mail and a black cloak. Nar landed on the ground, now shaped and powered by the Nightmare Orb. "This time we are on even grounds." Aaron said.

"I've got the power of Nightmares in my hands, boy! Everything that makes you, all your fears, all your doubts, all your inner demons, they are all right here. Immortality will be mine soon enough." Nar cackled. The Nightmare Orb shined upon the whole withered field, setting everything to blaze, including the fallen allies. The wings on Aaron's back fell to soot. Then, the orb seemed to twist itself into a long, blood-red sword. Nar laughed maniacally, saying, "I AM YOUR WORST NIGHTMARE!"

Aaron looked around at what had become of the tranquil field. It had been eternally peaceful, but now it was made of ash, sulfer, and brimstone. The orb's magic had them fighting on a volcano. Aaron looked at his sword, which still shined bright, and was filled with hope once again. Nar rushed at him, but Aaron quickly dodged and jumped above Nar. A thousand bolts of lightning struck Aaron as he fell onto Nar, and with a well placed stab, the Dreamweaver cut through his armor and extinguishing his life.

The Nightmare Orb turned into an orb again, and burned Nar into the ash he made of the field. Aaron took the Dreamweaver and sliced the orb in two, causing it to dissolve into nothingness. The volcano that was the battlefield quickly cooled, and grass and flowers grew back once again. Aaron looked in the reflection of the sword, and saw that his allies were back on their feet. And behind them were two doors. One was the wooden door they entered from. The other was a stone door that had just recently appeared.

"We've stopped the Nightmare. This dream will end peacefully. Will you continue to search for her with me?" Aaron asked, turning to his friends.

"We've been waiting for you!" The gargoyl said. Everyone was standing next to the stone door. "This door just appeared after you killed Nar. This one leads to the dreamer's subconciousness. The closest we can get to reality without leaving the dreamer."

"Then that must be where she went. She probably hid the door to keep Nar from permanently damaging the dreamer or the outside world." Aaron said, walking up to the stone door. "I'm going in. If you don't want to follow, I don't blame you." He said as he opened it, walking into the dark corridor.