Choose your destiny! Flawless victory! [Inevitable Tournament Arc]

[meat_mooks]

No sooner did the Obs Deck descend to Arena Planet LXIII, and the crew allowed to disembark, than they were met by a veritable cloud swarm of cameras. Sleek, elegant things that might have been living, might have been machines, maybe were even magical... but were definitely nuisances as the swooped around to capture video of the crew at all conceivable angles, close up and far away. Their every move from this point on would be on camera.

In front of a small crowd of retainers stood what appeared to be a great circular orb whose only distinguishing features were a nose, and what appeared to be the most overblown mustache ever, which actually appeared to be supporting that two-foot-diameter orb at shoulder height to a tall man. Then the orb took a couple of steps forward,revealing that no, those were actually just really, really hairy legs. A seam cracked open on the creature, and in a voice loud enough to echo across the broad open plains without any need for amplification, it bellowed, "AND NOW! STRAIGHT FROM THE TRANSMIGRATION NINE VESSEL! OUR NEWEST COMPETITORS! FRESH TO THE STAGE OF BATTLE, BUT NO STRANGERS TO WAR--"

It went on like this for some time.

Under cover of this introduction, a small man that to all appearances seemed to be the love child of Richard Nixon and a particularly aggressive Furby stepped forward, and in a bored businesslike tone recited, "Welcome to the tournament. There will be one battle per day. The arena in which you battle will be determined by random draw. Our medical crew will perform all healing necessary and ensure no deaths so feel free to not hold back. Please refrain from accepting any bribes or favors from on-planet spectators--"

"--ARE YOU READY?!" the orb bellowed even louder than before, completely swamping the smaller man's recitation. "THEN STEP THIS WAY!"

And so saying, the orb and its procession began a clearly well-choreographed procession towards a large, medieval-looking fortress that hung dramatically just on the edge of clear vision. (Conveniently, this procession passed several large advertisements.)

Comments

[doctorbatman]

Doc winced - holy hell that was going to bruise later - but the first empty click of the gun brought his attention around again to Damaramu. He hesitated, then snickered audibly.

"Rapid firing DOES tend to result in running out quick, doesn't it?"

The Doc grinned, lunging forward and swiping with his blade, katana connecting, trying to cleave through the forearm of Damaramu's laser-armed hand in one hard strike.

[meat_mooks]

"I wasted too much ammo showing off! I, Damaramu, shall surely regret this!" he shrieked. He swiftly yanked his hand away, then darted backwards, one fist raised. "Taste the shining power of Damaramu's METAL FIST OF JUST--"

Mid-swing, the armor on his body hissed and his motion stopped abruptly.

"...Out of... gas?"

[doctorbatman]

Doc didn't make the slightest effort to conceal his giddy laughter, raising from his guarded crouch and pushing firmly on Damaramu's chest, toppling him over while still frozen in mid-motion.

"Ahahaha!" Doc gasped to catch his breath as he straightened up fully and sheathed his weapon, grinning at the man now struggling in his armor shell.

"Out of gas! That's classic!

[meat_mooks]

"This isn't over yet! I, Damaramu, have an ally to fight for me! MECHA-ROSHIIIIIIIII!"

With a harsh, metallic cry, the robotic bird descended from above with a dramatic gleam, wind rushing through its intakes and over its steel wings as it lanced its way towards the Doctor.

It promptly landed on his shoulder and started pecking annoyingly at his head. Seriously, parrots outweighed this thing.

"Damn, Blacksmith Tony sure did a shitty job!"