Wasting Away: A Battle Between Throttle and professor13

May 20, 2008, 11:52 PM

Alright, I've changed my mind. It'll still be plains, but there'll be rolling hills around as well, as opposed to flatlands. It's still a 'wasteland' of sorts, since there is VERY little plant-life besides the grass and shrubbery.

Anyways, I'll be using Hera Ledro.

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Wasteland Plains - Planet Earth

Rolling hills as far as the eye could see, stones jutting out of the ground, and little more than grass for life. That was the wasteland plain. Gusts of wind blew across the grass, creating a rippling effect on the green wasteland.

To the north, there is a sparce beginning of a forest. The forest itself is visible, but it is several miles to the north, little more than eye-candy for the plains. Nevertheless, there are a few trees that are noticeable on the way north, growing more numerous as they extend towards the north. Only one sits in the near distance: a withering oak, more than six centuries old. Its branches are beginning to droop, and can hold less than a tenth of a ton, despite it's great size and stature. It is indeed the father of the forest farther beyond.

To the east, little more than three miles away, there is a beach that stretches northward and southward as far as the eye can see. The sand stretches more than two miles before it becomes the Eastern Shore, littered with crabs and other such crustaceans. The occasional starfish appears on the rocks closer to the water, visible only during low tide. Rolling hills block the fighter's view of the beach, but nevertheless, it is there.

To the west, there are simply hills and the rare tree. The hills are low, high, and of mid-height, but are so numerous that it would take a man days to walk the distance from one end to another.

To the south, not ten miles away, there is a road. It is a small, simple dirt road, like the ones used in the early nineteenth-century, and it is not often that automobiles pass by here. Even so, the occasional motorbike or car drives by, more often than not with the latter being a family out for a Sunday drive. The former is seen more commonly than the cars, and sometimes a set of three bikers drive by, curiously enough with small tails.

And finally, the centre of the battlefield. It is angled, leading up and to the east where the hills block the view of the sand. To the north and south, there are small rocky outcrops, with the stones large enough for a child to hide behind.

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Hera Ledro floated a few feet above the ground, surveying the scenery and letting the soft breeze blow through his fur. He closed his eyes and allowed the wind blow through his air. I really don't get enough of this, he thought, sighing mentally with pleasure.

His life was nothing but a big fight. There was very little peace in his life, and the only happiness he received was after misery. Whenever peace or happiness came, it was always at a price. A planet here, a species there, and all because he couldn't get there in time.

Sukani was always one step ahead of them, no matter where they went. Always.

Hera's ears twitched. He landed and fingered the blade hanging across his back. It was a six-foot long beast, a flame-shaped zweihander blade with a sapphire-studded pommel, with the metal pommel shaped like a Dragon's head. The leather was smooth, yet coarse enough to make a fine grip, even on the short-furred hands of an Allsie.

He straightened up, though keeping his hand firmly on the sword grip of the Dragon Blade. He called out to the wastelands, "Who's there?" His voice was not hostile, but it was engaging: he felt a presence nearby.

May 21, 2008, 1:07 AM

Okey dokey, I'll be using Testment: http://www.finalfantasyforums.net/ha...tml#post330592
As we fight, I would appreciate your critique and suggestions. As I said, I'm a little new to RPBs. And don't hesitate to get picky for the sake of sparing my feelings. I based Wylliam's ego on my own, so you can imagine the thickness of my proverbial skin

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A breeze played through Testament's silver hair, blowing it lightly in his face and tickling his nose. Despite the peace of the plains to which his ceaseless wandering had led him, inside his heart beat fiercely against his ribs, seemingly pumping his frustration throughout his entire body. Wherever he looked, humans were wasting the prescious gift God had reserved soley for them. For every story of benevolence, there was twenty for selfishness. For over six millenia, the same frustrations coarsed through his veins. However, a new frustration began to take hold about two millenia ago. He found he could no longer bring himself to completely hate humans. To his dismay, he found himself wanting to help those that were innocent; protect those that couldn't protect themselves.

Testament put his empty hand to his forehead as if to contain the myriad of clashing thoughts trying to burst from his skull. He wanted desperately to hate the humans; to watch without remorse, or perhaps even with satisfaction, as those few humans with a little sense were drowned out by the multitude of self-righteous masses that seemed determined to drive humanity straight into hell.

A change in the breeze brought Testament out of his introspection and caused him to look for the source. He noticed a blue furred being drop a few feet onto the ground opposite a low hill between himself and the creature. A voice sounded from across the rise, "Who's there?" Testament had not missed the sword strapped to the being's back. Whatever it was, it was prepared for battle. He grinned and walked to the crest of the rise. A battle would be perfect for pacifying his raging emotions. Upon reaching the top, Testament glared down at the being and said as provocatively as possible, "What an interesting animal, holding that blade as if it had any idea of how to actually use it. You know, you'd make a great sideshow at a circus. I'm sure you could keep an audience entertained for, oh I don't know, a few minutes?" For some reason, he was feeling particularly vicious at the moment, perhaps a side effect from the surrounding, abundant calm.

May 21, 2008, 1:26 AM

OOC: Oh, I'm turning my music off for this one

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Hera Ledro bristled at the man's comment. He turned himself and looked straight at him, taking in every detail.

The most noticeable thing was the hair of the man. It was shoulder length, but appeared to be a sea of silvery strands. Though the being was obviously a man, he had a feminine build to him. His skin was a bleached colour of peach, and his eyes were a piercing blue. Hera couldn't help but snigger at the man's clothing.

He was garbed in what seemed to be clothing from the early eighteenth century, specifically those of the bookworm-nobles. White shirt, red vest, and a dark blue cloak, complimented with slacks and old-fashioned shoes.

Had Hera not felt contempt for the man, he would have held back any forthcoming laughter. However, his mental condemnation overcame his usual nature, and he let out a loud chuckle. As he finished, he stared straight into the man's eyes, his own black eyes as piercing as the man's.

"You think me a beast," Hera said, grinning from ear to ear with contempt. "An erroneous assumption, I assure you." He stifled a chuckle. "But even a beast wouldn't be caught dead in that outfit."

Hera's tail blade cracked threateningly in the air, and his demeanour shifted in an instant, from mockingly warm to cruelly cold. "But I would be careful who you insult," Hera hissed. "I'm not one to be toyed with, especially these past few centuries. There are few enemies that I spare in today's day and age, so I would suggest that you tread lightly in these waters." He drew his blade and fingered the sharp edge. "I'm not as pleasant as I was two million years ago. Would you like to find out the hard way?"

May 21, 2008, 1:26 PM

OOC: Holy crap! I think you have a better idea of how Testament looks than I do!

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Testament's smirk flickered. The being's criticism of his wardrobe was immaterial; what caught Testament's interest was the being's age. Over two million years... Testament was still in heaven two million years ago. It wasn't everyday he met another being that also existed before humans.

Testament's smirk melted into a look of pensive solemnity. "... You say you've existed since before the hum-... we... finally crawled out of the trees. What do you think of us? Is there anything that makes us so special, anything that makes us more worthy of divine favor than the very celestial beings that stay at God's side from eternity past to eternity to come?" It was rare for Testament to care about the philosophies of others, but this was different. This was someone somewhat like himself.

May 21, 2008, 1:48 PM

OOC: I'm sensing a debate RPB

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Hera Ledro cocked an eyebrow at the man's sudden shift, but answered nonetheless. Maybe this man would provide him with intelligent debate.

He answered slowly, thinking on every word. "I would say that humans are deserving of no special attention. They are, like every other living thing, just organisms that populate a part of the universe. They are more destructive than most, especially with their technologies, and their greed is almost insatiable. However," he stared straight into the man's eyes for this final note, "They have come a long way. I have only been on Earth for a few millennia, not my entire lifespan. I haven't witnessed their beginnings, all those millions of years ago, and I haven't seen the entirety of their evolution."

Hera had not lowered his blade, though he was no longer holding it threateningly. He was also reluctant to use it because, from what he could tell, the man had no weapons, only a violin. It was an odd thing, in Hera's mind, for someone like this to be carrying an instrument around. However, Hera would not let the facade, if it were one, deceive him; he only saw a violin case, and there could be any kind of small weapon in it.

"Why are you so interested in speaking of humans." Hera cast a wary eye over his the man. "I think it's safe to say that you're not human; it is beyond the biological limits of a human to have hair in the shade of your own, much less the effeminate figure you carry. What are you?"

May 22, 2008, 12:27 AM

This time, Testament was unable to mask his shock at the being's intuition. "You are incredibly observative," he scowled, "You're quite correct. I am not human, nor can I stomache that disgusting race. In fact, I wish they'd hurry up and kill themselves off in a massive holocaust rather than progressing in this slow, agonizing limp to extinction." Even as he spoke them, he could feel the hollow words echoing in his mind. As much as they sounded filled with conviction, they simply weren't true. This caused Testament to become annoyed with himself again. "You say they're getting better, I say it's too little too late," he said, resuming his contemptuous smirk. "However," he continued, squatting and laying his violin case onto the ground, "If you want to know what I really am, beat it out of me. I haven't put up with that vile race all this time just to waste my breath on them with some weird visitor from the stars." Testament popped the latches of the violin case and opened it outward, with its lid still hiding the case's contents from view. He would let the being wonder and stew in suspense for a little while.

Finally, he straightened and stood tall, shouldering the item that was inside the case: Violince, a violin that seemed almost to radiate sweet meloncholy. The wood was ebony; its black color complimented by the red trimming on its edges. These edges came to exaggerated points, augmenting the instrument's grotesque visage. The scroll of the violin was in the shape of a wyvern head, its teeth bared menacingly. Hidden from view, two blood red, feathery wings decorated the underside of the violin. Testament's right hand held the bow, black with crimson horse hair, poised just above Violince's strings. He smiled and waited for the being's reaction to his 'weapon.'

May 22, 2008, 1:39 AM

Hera bristled with indignation. "How dare you..." Suddenly, his voice rose and his eyes burned with loathing, his voice trembling with contempt. "How dare you carry the sign of the Dragon on your instrument? You, who antagonize and condemn a race simply because of several centuries of mistakes? You sound like an angel who has fallen from favour, and is desperately doing what he can because others have his god's attention rather than himself."

Hera jumped back and readied himself, with his left claw flexed at his opponent and the Dragon Blade behind him, pointing forward and slightly to the right. Hera was no amateur; fights were literally his life.

"HOW DARE YOU CARRY THE SIGN OF THE DRAGON WHEN YOU LOATHE THOSE WHO ARE NOT YOUR OWN KIN!" Hera raised his sword and leapt forward, his blade screaming through the air as it swung for the wyvern-headed instrument.

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OOC: Alright, Hera does NOT know that Testament is a 'seraphim,' or so to say. It is simply a retort, since it is what he is infuriated that one of such contempt would sport a Dragon on his weapon. A Wyvern is a type of Dragon, so that's where his anger is coming from.

May 22, 2008, 2:28 AM

The speed of Testament's opponent was remarkable, but the being's raging emotions only aided Testament in reading his actions. Grinning, he kicked his violin case into the attack trajectory and leapt backward, utilizing his exceptional leg strength to propel himself over fifteen feet, landing on a rock jutting out from the low ground between the hill upon which he had been standing and another, slightly taller hill directly behind him. Upon landing he brought his bow lightly across the strings of his instrument, which proceeded to fill the air with a low, mournful note which ended in a slight verbrato. Testament decided to see if he could enrage his opponent further before initiating his seraphic powers, deciding that the risk of increased ferocity would be offset by easier attack prediction.

"Don't get me wrong," he jeered, continuing his meloncholy melody without removing his eyes from the being, "I don't 'loathe' everything not my 'own kin,' just humans and certain blue furred freaks with a dragon fetish." As he played, he fingered the wyvern head with his right index finger. "Don't you hear what beautiful music this dragon sings to resonate with my hate? Indeed, it almost seems to desire to come to life, that it could rip the foul, impure flesh of Man itself and bathe in their blood."