PROTOTYPE
New Member
[M:100]
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Posts: 10
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Post by PROTOTYPE on Apr 6, 2012 9:24:04 GMT -5
DUNGEON RACE ↓ SOUTH
Welcome to The Oracle's Citadel.
A series of labyrinthine halls and underground constructs built to protect four grand temples of worship. Hidden deep within this thousand-year old temple lies the Crystal Chalice, a legendary item that's said to grant the wishes of any adventurer who dare lay claim to it. The grand halls are patrolled by dreadfully strong monsters said to have descended from protectors of the gods themselves; very few who enter these sacred grounds are ever seen or heard from again.
Your task is to retrieve the chalice and survive the challenges waiting for you inside the complex. Whilst in this holy sanctum you cannot be killed, but if defeated by any opponent you shall be cast out from it's walls and will be unable to return. This task has a time limit, however. There is a team opposite to those of yourself who are also racing for the grand prize, but it is up to your party to find the chalice first.
You will be entering from the southern gates, through the pyre caves then the hallowed halls from there. Keep your guard up, work together, and may the gods be with you on this quest.
SOUTH TEAM
• MEZZANOTTE
• K2
• THRYM
• VANN
• PERISH
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Post by k2 on Apr 6, 2012 12:42:34 GMT -5
The rings from gating in brought the tall long arm to the field. k2 stood at 6 foot 6 inches and was probably the tallest player in the event. But that would only give him an advantage over the terribly short players. Unless those short players were like Echo, the heavy blade midget who used a sword that probably outweighed him. k2 bellowed laughter as he thought about his meeting with that player. The two had become friends, and it made him pleased that not everything in this game was about trying to slaughter the other team. This event, however, was.
His clothing choice had not varied from character creation: a red scarf, white pants, a red belt, gauntlets and black boots. No shirt. On his back was the four foot long bamboo stick that was his weapon. It was a simple weapon, really, but a versatile one. k2 glanced over the character signup sheet which was for the dungeon race. He was teamed with a heavy blade, two wavemasters, and a twin blade. It was actually a balanced team. As long as both of the wavemasters were not offensive types, he suspected that his team would have a good chance of completing the event in a timely fashion. He clicked his tongue as he waited outside of the pyre caves. The other team was probably entering through the north, and the goal was probably somewhere in the center of the citadel.
Thankfully enough, k2 was ready to rock.
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Post by THRYM on Apr 6, 2012 15:37:34 GMT -5
Thrym could safely say this was the first event he had ever participated in -- he doubted he'd enjoy himself much, but he blamed that entirely on his already-sour mood as he gated into the area given him.
Lean and dark and willowy, he materialized as a ghost on the fringe of a hallucination; horns curling up about his face but doing little to conceal the scowl that translated through the interface. His staff was clasped, battle-ready, in his right hand, the false spear-head glinting in the ethereal light of the citadel.
He smiled (grimaced) as he noticed the other member of his team, a longarm, already present -- an overeager puppy of a player, he noted with a snort of disdain. Were he in a better mood he might flirt with him; see if he could get a rise out of the other player, but as it were he was barely holding himself back from blowing everything up for the hell of it. (Maybe later.)
Despite his foul mood, certain aspects of trolling never quite left him, so ingrained as they were into his online psyche, and he found himself stalking over to the longarm's side. When he was close enough that a whisper could be well heard, he moved yet closer and leaned forward to purr in the other's ear: "And where is everyone else?"
He didn't bother to introduce himself; simply snarled his question and awaited an answer he knew wouldn't come.
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Post by MEZZANOTTE on Apr 8, 2012 20:40:53 GMT -5
There wasn't much to Mezzanotte's entrance. She slid into the field, behind the other players. The only way you'd know she was there is if you heard the chime of the gate system. She stared at the two, and reached for her King Saw, which was strapped to her back. Her movements were languid, lackluster. It didn't look like she was at all pumped or excited for this event. But she didn't look bored, either. Her crimson eyes, one smoldering and smoking, stared at the two players. She looked all around then.
Mezzanotte had barely caught what Thrym had said. She breathed out her words in a sigh, as if speaking was hard for her, "Coming..." Her skeletal hand finished closing around the handle of King Saw, and she tugged it from it's strap.
At least she could say she wasn't the one who was slowing the start-up down. |
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