8th Annual Nintendoland Battlefield Tournament: First Round Battles

[Swordmaster Link]

Here it is! After what felt like an eternity waiting for this topic to be made, we're finally at the start of this highly anticipated tournament. Before we get started, let's have a moment of silence for R-18...*silence*. You guys know the drill, so let's get right into it!

Rules:

1. All fights in a round are held in ONE TOPIC. This is to stay true to the classic setting of the original tournament which was started by R-18.

2. No shape-shifting, form changing moves are allowed MID-BATTLE (you can change forms/characters inbetween rounds)

3. No Healing.

4. No One Hit KOs.

5. No Life Taps (Energy Sucking).

6. There will be 8 separate battlefields (one for each match). The first person to post will decide the battlefield. (Or if you've already arranged the battlefield thats fine.)

7. IF YOU DO NOT REPLY WITHIN 60 HOURS THERE WILL BE CONSEQUENCES. After the first 60 hours, half a point will be deducted from your final score out of 30. After another 24 hours, another half point will be deducted. If another 24 hours passes without a reply, that is grounds for disqualification.

Judges:
1. Saria Dragon
2. Shinigami
3. Heroine of the Dragon

And of course, the match-ups.

Match-Ups:

Alpha Division:
(1)Wyborn vs. (8)Dusty
(2)Selphie vs. (7)Marilink
(3)Repster vs. (6)Orchis
(4)Parrakarry vs. (5)Marshman

Omega Division:
(1)Phenom vs. (8)Scripture
(2)Erdawn vs. (7)Alex
(3)Swordmaster Link vs. (6)Estrotica
(4)Superluigi64 vs. (5) Zippy


All fight's will end a week from today @ 5:00 PM EST. Good luck! [img]smile.gif[/img]

Estrotica, I'll have an opening post sometime soon.

[Parrakarry]

Alright Marshy man... since we haven't decided yet...

Battlefield will be... hmmmmmm... I know! We'll battle in Lon Lon Ranch at Hyrule... this is the OoT Hyrule, since that's the one most people know best, and you can leave the ranch and extend the battle elsewhere if you like.

You may have first move.

[Phenom]

OoC: It is likely that I will not have computer access until Tuesday at the earliest, so i encourage Scripture to choose the field of battle and enter first if he so chooses.

[Dusty]

Wyborn, we already kind of decided on a desert... would you like to enter first, or should I?

[Wyborn]

OoC: You go ahead, Dusty. I'm willing to wait.

And this setup is still going to be hell on the judges. -OoC

[Asnabel]

OoC: Repster, let's fight in an old abandoned foundry, which is a place where steel and iron is poured into molds and shaped and refined. It's old and abandoned, so there's very little light and of course very little heat, but the battlefield has all inds of stuff to use against our opponents anyway. If that sounds okay, you enter first -OoC

[Dusty]

^^The one-topic? Yeah.

Working on it now.

[ July 12, 2004, 01:44 PM: Message edited by: Dusty ]

[ZIPPYDIPPY19]

OoC: Ok SL, came up with a pretty decent battlefield:

Its a deep cavern, deep within the bowels of the earth. Stalactites hang roughly 600 feet above our heads, droplets from the falling to create large echoes in a pool of water roughly knee deep covering the ground. Several pieces of rock however stick out from the surface, creating adequate areas for us to wage battle, and if you're dexterous enough you can even balance on stalagmites jutting up from the liquid. There are four stony pillars in the cavern, each extending from floor to ceiling (just in case you wanna bring the roof down ). The only other abnormal thing in the cavern is a waterfall, which streams down through a wide tunnel before opening up to a long sunny beach.

So the cavern is destructible if desired, we just each have to get to the surface. Lighting is dim also, so be prepared with another source of illumination.
--------------------------------------------------
Zippy had been ready. He had polished and perfected his armaments over and over in days before, their sheen one of the utmost perfect shines. The day was upon him, and his head felt light as he walked down the familiar beaten forest trail that led to his home. He had been there many times, to think, to vent, to heal, but each time he had gone away content, his emotions and pains calmed through some higher power, one Zippy did not completely understand.

This day was no different, and as he approached his stump a wide smile was displayed on his face. As he passed his slender fingers worked their way into the crevices of his armor, pulling it off its crosspole stand. In a flourish of buckles and straps it was donned, the dance like procedure ending in a spin and a bow by the Keeper of Music. His sword was next, and as he picked the leather sheath up from his favorite tree stump, he drew the blade out, all of its magnificent 4 feet. The blade itself was beautiful that day, Zippy having whetted its edge to a fearsome level of sharpness, one that was all too ready to cut through armor into warm flesh. It was but and had always been a last resort however, and as the blade found its home again in its weathered scabbard, Zippy was already admiring his weapon of choice. The saxophone he had crafted ages ago had been placed upon a stone pedestal, its rocky face engraved with the depiction of angels singingto the surrounding world as a giant oak held aloft the blue horn. Too many times his opponents had scoffed at his prowess with the deadly weapon, and too many times had mortal blood been spilled when a foolish human had insulted it. Zippy's mind did not harbor any dark memories today though, for as his hands found their natural grooves in the blue metals surface, he began to play one of the happiest tunes that had ever enlivened the forest.

His yellow eyes gleamed in a mouthless smile as he spun about happily, his weapon in hand, melodious music filling the air about the glade. In a graceful leap, zippy's lith form landed atop his stump, and he continued to spin, his right the tune never having quavered. It continued for moments that seemed like eternitys, but suddenly, the music stopped, and with one hand Zippy pressed the key that collapsed the horn into a necklace. Now Zippy's face was plagued by a scowl, for he was finally ready to enter battle, his anger had returned. He floated over towards a clearing devoid of any vegetation, and his right hand came out of its respective pocket. He extended his gray arm into the air, and mystical energies began to pool about his palm, a magical doorway in the making. After several seconds a shudder of his spine was evidence enough to show that the door had been completed, and as his eyes opened he noticed that this particular doorway was green. This day Zippy would find himself in an earthen battle.

His heavy boot began to pass beyond the doorway's shimmering surface, but suddenly a puzzling look flashed across Zippy's face. As his upper torso twisted back to face towards the stump, his left arm came out. Something appeared in Zippy's hands, but before anyone but the Keeper of Music could determine what it was, he was already through the doorway, his astral form being ricocheted towards his destination.

He arrived in a cavern, one of which was obviously far beneath the surface. The smell of some sort of vegetation filtered through zippy's nostrils, and the revolting scent made his lip curl in disgust. His left hand was clenched, his right buried deep within a pouch, obviously hiding the mysterious item he had decided to bring with him. After overcoming the smell of decay, Zippy adopted a look of complete emotionless sentience. His eyes looked straight ahead at the cavern wall, never straying to look at his surroundings, and he had placed both hands within his pant pockets. His hair fell upon his face, the strands giving him the look of a slumbering fool, though anyone with any amount of wisdom knew differently. But though he tried very hard to look dispassionate, he could not even begin to hide the wide smile stretched across his features. He was trembling in that cave, not because of the chilling fact that the sun was blocked by tons of solid earth, nor because of the fact that the air was filled with a dank cold moisture. Zippy was trembling that day from excitement, for he had gone to fight, and fight he would...

[ July 12, 2004, 03:21 PM: Message edited by: Zipp ]

[Marshman18]

OoC:Lon Lon Ranch, sounds good.

Crater walked calmly into the ranch. it was mysteriously quiet. there were no people in sight, and there was silence between all the animals. it was as if they knew something was coming, something big.

Crater smiled, he had always liked farms and ranches. He walked into the center of the ranch and drew his two swords. He hadn't batled in a while, but he was far from being rusty. Lots of training had led up to this point, the time had come.

OoC:You may enter, and the first attack is yours if you want.

[Erdawn Il Deus]

OoC -- Okay Alex, let's do this thing. I've got a battlefield already, and my entrance will be up shortly. Til' then -- ta.

[Swordmaster Link]

OOC: Alrighty! Let’s get goin.

One of the most unforgiving places one can venture is that of the desert. The harsh area is capable of separating the weak from the strong and the boys from the men. During the day, the desert is oppressively hot and tests the determination and will power of those who choose to enter it. Exhaustion can lead one to be manipulated by their senses and perceive things that might not be true. At night however, the desert can feel empty and cold, leaving the traveler lonely and desperate for civilization.

In this case, two warriors would be pitted against one another because of a tournament to see which of the two is tougher and smarter under pressure. SML was traversing through the deep sand in his red boots, leaving footprints in the sand. He had a cloak covering his face and placed his arm in front of himself to shield from the incoming sand so that it would not blow completely in his face. He continued to drink from a small supply of water that he had carried alongside him and decided to stop for a moment. The Hylian spotted a rock nearby and decided to sit down for a few minutes in anticipation of his opponent’s arrival. To buy the time, he drew his sword and began to draw different patterns in the sand so that he wouldn’t die of boredom. “I really hope this guy proves to be a challenge…I need something to keep me occupied out here.” At that moment, SML spotted what appeared to be a lone figure off in the distance, coming closer and closer toward him. Soon enough, the Hylian would get his answer…

[NintendoNut]

Good luck to all. I'll read your battles with interest! [img]smile.gif[/img]

[Dusty]

A cool breeze ran before the approaching thunderstorm. Turbulent rainfall could be seen coming down in melancholy sheets; the clouds above rolled slowly like a plow over the hard earth. The rain claimed a series of great mesas as it came and sullied the view of whatever lay on the vast horizon.

Another one, besides the thunderstorm, was taking off, the storm nipping at his heels. Both were drawn westward by the same compass. Sunlight was dull, and a rare commodity through the tenebrous cloak of the clouds, but there was little of interest in such an unforgiving expanse. In contrast to the sunbeams and the terrain, jagged threads of lightning brilliant tore the sky, and lit both the clouds and the rain with a yet-unnatural lining of ultraviolet.

Before, Dusty had become unconcerned with what lay before or behind him; he had long struggled with stopping, taking refuge in a dune and waiting out the storm. At least then he'd have some drinking water. What he had now was brackish, fouled. Now the rain muddied Dusty's fresh footprints, gaining on him in a mad sprint, the clouds bursting with thunder and gray precipitation against their fleeing quarry. In spite of watching his body slowly waste away in such an arid prairie, he could not succumb to the exhaustion and frustration, knowing he would not survive the squalls and the torrents in this fresh open air.

Dusty was ill equipped for the desert, walking in long blue jeans and sweating through his shirt. The cloth was white with brown pinstripes, and far too thick. Slung over his shoulder was a .308 carbine. At his waist was a sheathed rapier, its scabbard with a heavy bronze spine and ribbing, the bright metal mirroring his light brown hair, the strands glowing blonde in the blinding sun that the storm had not yet smothered, and streaked with premature white. It had the dirty appearance of hay matted against his forehead.

He was a thin man of middling height, and had the strung-out appearance of the homeless, of a man walking a long day into a sleepless night. He had been running a ragged mile for forty days and nights, riding along the storm’s advance, now realizing how poorly he had prepared for this journey.

Dusty's eyes gazed far ahead into the blinding distance, watching the blasts of heat swell from the coarse earth and create mirages to fit his mood. From such overexposure, his eyes had long since dulled and drooped into his more prominent cheeks, or hid under his long hair. He had large coffee-brown eyes, as dark as rich soil following the winter thaw. His eyes were no longer the kind that could stare down bison or compose themselves to hide his thoughts. Despite narrowing hopes, his eyes were yet wide and expressive, even in his cracked and sunken features. They gave him the appearance of a man that had stared too long into the dim abyss, and had begun to see what was there.

However Dusty had kept his hopes up against such grim omens. He imagined a Promised Land that lay in his path only another day out. and henever he thought about it, especially under the red sky at dawn or dusk, he came to believe it actually existed. He thought of it with the atmosphere of a sanctuary, designed by an architect to sustain the world.

He imagined it with sand like crushed marble, populated more by cacti than people. The sand reflected even the starlight, refining it to such a pure and warm polish that the moon could become undistinguished from the sun. The cacti grew taller than any man, filled as sweetened and delicious founts, a vibrant and appealing green against the alabaster canvas. To him, this place was as vast and white as heaven, and it was where both he and the coming storm were going.

[ July 13, 2004, 08:10 PM: Message edited by: Dusty ]

[spicy]

The desert. Arguably the dumbest place to stage a battle, as even if one emerges victorious, he would would surely be too exhausted to carry on for salvation and drink. The heat makes the cactus seem to mock and dance around you in your pathetic thirst. That said, it was now an arena for two warriors.

Now, a tip for survival is to conserve energy. For the latter of the warriors, this was not the case. Wearing nothing more then plum-colored pants ripped in the shins and the strap from which his Union Jack emblazoned Flying V guitar hung, Lord Raptor would make his entrance a dramatic one, to say the least. "Hello, thou!" He began in his cockney accent, "Enjoying the warmth are we?". With that, he let loose a Steve Vai-meets-Glenn Danzig solo on his guitar complete with David Lee Roth-like jumps and stage antics, the sound overdriven by a very large and very unseen amplifier.

After this no doubt odd display of guitarsmanship, Lord Raptor stuffed the guitar into the back of his pants much like a cartoon from the Looney Toons era would. Infinity days have passed without bloodshed , he thought, his lecherous grin growing wider, Now is release. Now is pain.

[Repster]

Ooc:Well now, you just killed off my prepared posts right there...Or did you. Nope, not at all. Just need to go for number errrr I do belive four shall be the best choice, for this battlefield. Wasen't planning on using anything beyond three untile next round...Meh, oh well.

What came from the shadows was no ordinary Repster. No, this was not the Repster that the tournament knew, not the Repster the warriors knew. This was the Repster they HEARD about. The Repster of legends. The Repster that single handedly stopped the rampaging of a Tarrasque(Not kill of course, he would have needed a bit of help for that. I think it's impossible to do alone, if it's not it's damn near impossible). This was the Repster that crushed those more powerful then him in a very short time, and of coure he liked it. This Repster did not come for pleasure, sport, vengence, debt or any other reasons to fight. This was the Repster that was here for only one reason, to win.

It wasen't that much of a change over what he usually walked around in. At first glance the horns stood out. One from each temple, going above his elongated pointy ears, starting to curve back downwards at the ears inwards curve of the ear, and ending in a slightly upwards curl at the middle of the back of his head. The other four that came from his forehead only folled his skull to the same spot and the same final curve. Underneath his flame tinted hair was present, this time shifting as if it truly was fire. In fact, the biggest diffrence was that the hair gave off no light. The horns gave him and extra height over his usual 5' 8". Not much, but a bit more intimidating towards his taller vict...errr oponent. His eyes where almost the same as ever, they never realy changed. Whites of a great red wyrm. Irises of blood, crimson, scarlet, red and overy other shade beautifly mixed in chaos.Last but not least the pupils of fire, flowing gently illustrating his calm mood. What was diffrent from usual was not that you could see anything diffrent whithing them. No, they were still a clear portal to his soul. They shone with intellengence, madness, mercy, ruthlessness, and all that. What was diffrent was the absence of the shade of gray portraying his blindness to the sight of man. He would not have any disadvantange what so ever to humans on this day. His smirk was present in it's slight mocking fation, hightlested by the angle of his head. Slightes of curves on his left sight, long as possible without starting to stretch his skin on the right. At the right angle, and light a slight glimmer of silver like fangs woul be seen. Silver being weaker then the fangs that chewed threw diamond, for fun. His brow was slightly diffrent then usual as well. It was on fire, littarally.

Now that was only the changes to his head. Apon his shoudlers where spikes. Not your average blood stained spikes, oh no. These where made of a stange crystal. It shone with the color of fire. This was the crystal Repster created out of fire at any point in time easilly. Yet these were created from a much more powerful source then usual. His pure soul. They would rip and burn into anything but his own flesh. Even fire elementals had felt the burn of the smaller spike on his knuckles. Then the spikes on his knees as well. He wore no shirt, his skin was hardened and filled with the smallest of scales, yet still as strong as the dragon flesh that usualy covered his torso. His back had his wings spred to they're full imposing glory. The ruled only allowed him to get rid of them once the fight started, not vice versa. His six foot long red dragon tail waved behind him. Nothing was changed. Nothing needed to be. The limb of almost pure muscle was fine the way it was. Especially since Repster's muscles held much more power then what should be able for they're average warrior mass. Almost every warrior of the battlefield had a more then him. Yet he constantly proved that he was could, and would be stronger then them in an instent. Strangly enoght, his cape and weapons were missing. He felt that he no longer had the hands to give them justice and his cape would be hampered by his wings. He had stretch his nails to one and a half inch, making them that much more deadly. The talons on his toes and heel thought, they stayed the same two inches. The pants,belt, and pouches of dragon flesh stayed were they were. He might need something from one of the pouches.

He walked foward fire suronding him, only one thing was going threw his mind, Orchis. His entire aura of fire sundenly concentrated itself apon his fist as he picked up a four foot bar of steel istently turning it red. He may not be able to wield his weapons, but he could make something in a few secounds in this place. If fact, he did. The steel bent with his will into a simple blade. Sharp as it could be without tempering. The very heat it was being more then enoght to replace that weakness. So he stood and waited.

Ooc: And of course, my bad gramar must be tollarated by all. Then again, considering where I come from it's a miracle I have not made a total ass of myself,and wrote like a five year old during all my time on vgf.

[Shinigami]

Originally posted by Repster:The Flame of Destruction:
Ooc: And of course, my bad gramar must be tollarated by all. Then again, considering where I come from it's a miracle I have not made a total ass of myself,and wrote like a five year old during all my time on vgf.

I recommend you use a spell check for future posts, as I will not only be grading on battling performance but also writing performance. The way I see it, we battle by writing, and through writing we represent the fight. If you are too lazy to spell check, then I will penalize you for laziness alone, and you cannot complain as you didn't take the time to fix those errors.

In this current age, there is no excuse a mistake that makes me struggle to grasp what was meant. What this means is that I will penalize you if I see errors that cause me to stumble through what you said. I won't deduct points if you make a spelling error--that's just stupid.

Repster, you apparently have some coherency with the English language, even if it is a second language. You can do better if you use Microsoft Word, use a spell check in an e-mail service, or even go to a website that does it for free. After a quick Google search, I found this: http://www.spellcheck.net/

As you can see, you have no excuse, and therefore deductions will be made. This is a 411 to everyone in this tournament.

I repeat: I will make no exceptions unless it is a minor error such as a spelling mistake where you meant to spell 'that' and instead came out with 'taht'. Basically, anything that takes me out of the reading to figure out what was meant will lose points. I won't make you lose points if it is my fault as a reader, though. I do read these posts constantly before I pass judgment. I won't read them only once.

Edit:

Almost forgot to say that these posts are looking nice. Keep up the work, guys.

[ July 12, 2004, 07:06 PM: Message edited by: Shinigami ]

[Scripture]

Let us see how this goes. The battlefield will be described within my post, whenever I get to typing it up.

[Erdawn Il Deus]

*screams in primal rage at his well-written post which was just consumed by the server's insatiable thirst to piss people the **** off and resumes writing it... again*

EDIT: Very well said, Shini. Spoken like a true critic of litterature. I would change my icon to a thumbs-up if I was not so pissed off.

[ July 12, 2004, 07:12 PM: Message edited by: Erdawn: miles away - in your shoes ]

[Marilink]

OoC: Alright, I'll post after dinner, if Selphie gives me the battlefield by then, as previously planned.

[ZIPPYDIPPY19]

Ah darn, can't be lazy with my writing...