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

[meat_mooks]

The sword cut into Heigan without much resistance, as the oozing flesh simply seemed to congeal around it. Far from despairing over his gross disadvantage, the plaguemancer merely grinned --

And suddenly, three-quarters of the arena erupted in toxin and agony. Massive gouts of a fluid that combined all the worst qualities of acid, poison, venom, and festering disease burst out of the cracks beneath their feet, with only a swath behind the dueling pair unaffected.

[swordofdorn]

Erhart hisses in pain as the toxins continue to rip through his body, forcing a lot of the time his enhanced form spends strengthening him for battle instead to deal with the varied problems that this is causing him.

When he sees the swath behind them open up safely, he'll try to shoulder-rush Heigan there, following behind, a sort of brutal bull-rushing tactic to dictate the "dance" of battle, smashing him aggressively back if possible so he can dictate the pace of events.

Erhart has realized that this is a question of strength and determination against magic, so he's doing his best to use a physically brutal and bullying style to his advantage in achieving victory.

[meat_mooks]

Heigan followed Erhart almost cheerfully, continuing to deliver strikes with his staff that weren't terribly strong. Beneath them, the floor continued to roil and churn... until it erupted in another massive explosion of toxicity.

This time, the swath that didn't boil up was now behind Erhart again, right where he had been standing!

A few more hits like this, and even Erhart might be forced to concede defeat...

[swordofdorn]

Erhart withdraws to the safe island, swapping to his bolt pistol once more, flicking the selector to full auto before unleashing a ripping burst of mass-reactive rounds towards Heigan.

"By the Emperor just die! Even for a plaguebearer you die hard."

[meat_mooks]

Heigan deflected two of the rounds with his staff, though a pair more passed through to thunk into that undead flesh. The necromancer seemed thoroughly unbothered, though, perhaps almost gleeful as another poison explosion rocked the arena -- and this time, the safe zone was behind Erhart again! The first explosion had not affected the first quarter of the arena, the second explosion the second quarter, and so in turn this third explosion didn't affect the third quarter of the arena.

[swordofdorn]

Erhart leaps back, beginning to understand something of a pattern. He grabs at some of his own explosives and growls at Heigan, thumbing the activation stud on a frag grenade.

"Two can play at this game."

He hurls the activated flesh-ripper at Heigan, snarling defiance.

[meat_mooks]

Heigan vanished.

As the grenade detonated, he reappeared at the far end of the arena, lifting one hand to the ceiling. As noxious poisons poured out of him, the arena began to rumble and roil, as the undead plaguemancer readied himself to accelerate the detonations of the floor tenfold.