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		<title>Zelda Universe Forums - Battle Arena</title>
		<link>http://www.zeldauniverse.net/forums/</link>
		<description>A roleplaying board focused upon battles between two (or more) approved characters.  Not for the faint of heart!</description>
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			<title>Zelda Universe Forums - Battle Arena</title>
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			<title><![CDATA[Why Not? [Zorolo]]]></title>
			<link>http://www.zeldauniverse.net/forums/battle-arena/102530-why-not-zorolo-new-post.html</link>
			<pubDate>Mon, 16 Nov 2009 06:05:42 GMT</pubDate>
			<description>oOC: I have no idea where i am going with this. lol. 
 
Bic: 
 
Was it morning or was it evening? Was the sun setting or rising? Have the stars just begun to shine or had they been illuminating me for hours? How could I not remember? It was a strange sensation: to realize that time had stopped...</description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<div>oOC: I have no idea where i am going with this. lol.<br />
<br />
Bic:<br />
<br />
Was it morning or was it evening? Was the sun setting or rising? Have the stars just begun to shine or had they been illuminating me for hours? How could I not remember? It was a strange sensation: to realize that time had stopped having all meaning. Day or night seemed so irrelevant, and it was. I had traveled far. From country to country, continent to continent, universe to universe, and even from Heaven to earth. Each step no different from the last, and yet each was new and unique. How is time relevant? In one world it may be morning, in another evening, and yet another lacks a sun to tell them; in that sense who is to say if it was morning or evening. Both answers where fine. Daylight no longer restricted my travel, and darkness my sleep. The only thing that mattered was my feet, marching forwards toward an unknown future…no, marching towards my own demise. For each step only begot the next, leading one closer and closer to the end; or the beginning. Perhaps to neither. <br />
<br />
None of that really mattered. The future was distance, and the past was long gone. I had accepted, many years ago, that the only thing that mattered was the present. Presently, however, I was walking into the morning sun which ostinably bore into my eyes despite the best efforts of my cloak. It would be miles before my eyes got relief. I never did like the sun; not even as a child. It always seemed brighter then it needed to be, and had a tendency to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. I learned to put up with it but I never did like it. However, I had more important matters to deal with then the placement of a ball of burning hydrogen. Zorlo.<br />
<br />
It had been a while since he “died”. It didn’t take him alive to return to the world of the living, which was true to Zorlo’s character. For as long as I knew him, my rival never let anything hold him back. I am assured that to him death was just another obstacle that needed to be overcome. Another powers to achieve. I was certain then, as me feet took me forward, that he had become more powerful then I could even imagine. He handily spat in the face of Death, so I could only assume there was no limit to what he was able to achieve. <br />
<br />
My mind drifted back to our first battle. So long ago, yet the details felt like yesterday. So much had changed from that time in the unnamed forest. Our powers were still new; though the fire was still the same. We fought with every inch of ourselves. As our powers grew we clashed again. That time as well we put it all on the line, every drop of sweat, and every line of blood. Our hearts poured onto the battlefield.<br />
<br />
Even that seemed like forever ago. Both of us had faced many challenges, and both of us had risen to a new level. As my feet moved towards the morning sun I could feel my whole body shudder in anticipation. I couldn’t help but wonder if he knew I was coming, if he felt the same as I did. I’m sure he was expecting me. As I moved my façade of an arm I remember I had a debt that needed to be repaid in full. <br />
<br />
It was near noon when I found myself in a rather modern city. Tall Buildings seemed to leap from the ground on every side of me, and I could not help but feel out of place in my heavy clothing. The good thing was this meant people crossed the street to avoid me, giving me plenty of room to move towards my target without effort. <br />
<br />
I didn’t bother to wonder why the Aura Master found himself in such a place. I doubt he even knew. Zorlo had a tendency to be wherever he wanted whenever he wanted. That made him difficult to track down; his erratic movements never seemed to have a purpose. I had been searching for weeks before I narrowed his location down to the one city. He was close though. I could feel him.<br />
<br />
There he was. Standing against the crowd ignoring the odd looks of passers-bys. My body began to tingle again as I moved forward: the crowd dispersing as I did. “Zorlo. It has been a while.” I said calling the attention of his green eyes. I may have been mistaken but I swear I saw a smile on his face, “You and I have a score to settle.” I drew my sabre, ignoring the screams of citizens on all sides.</div>

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			<category domain="http://www.zeldauniverse.net/forums/battle-arena/">Battle Arena</category>
			<dc:creator>Puck</dc:creator>
			<guid isPermaLink="true">http://www.zeldauniverse.net/forums/battle-arena/102530-why-not-zorolo.html</guid>
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			<title>Fighting them off? (Stryder Aedernis)</title>
			<link>http://www.zeldauniverse.net/forums/battle-arena/102519-fighting-them-off-stryder-aedernis-new-post.html</link>
			<pubDate>Mon, 16 Nov 2009 00:29:18 GMT</pubDate>
			<description><![CDATA[OoC: Okay, not who I said I would be using, but I'm having problems writing with the other character right now. Plus, after thinking about it. I thought it would be more fun for you to fight a character that can fight you back. So, I've awaken Sara out of her resting place.  
 
BiC: What a pitiful...]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<div>OoC: Okay, not who I said I would be using, but I'm having problems writing with the other character right now. Plus, after thinking about it. I thought it would be more fun for you to fight a character that can fight you back. So, I've awaken Sara out of her resting place. <br />
<br />
BiC: <i>What a pitiful display of fighting. Men are wild untamed creators made to hurt and bring pain to this world. </i>The young Sara thought viewing the fight that broke out between two men. The crowed grew quickly to both watch and stop the fight. She on the other hand hoped the too would kill themselves or smarten up enough to stop. <br />
<br />
She laughed to herself thinking how much it reminded her of two dogs fighting. It was stupid what had started the whole thing. “Help! Please somebody help them!” She heard the woman and young ladies calling in the background trying to put a end to the madness.<br />
<br />
She turned her back to the fight her gently hands tossing the can of soda from her blood red nails. “Miss!” She felt hands grabbing her shirt from behind, the voice of a strong man echoed in her ear. She could fell the anger from the man touching her build quickly. <br />
<br />
“Let go.” <br />
<br />
“But.”<br />
<br />
“Now.” She didn’t wait to see slapping his arm off her arm. <br />
<br />
“Stop them, pleasr!” <br />
<br />
She shook her head not wanting to be a part of the fuss anymore than she was. She knew it start because of her and hoped it would end with her gone.  “Why? Those fools choose to fight over me without hearing what I had to say first.”<br />
<br />
“But! You have to!” The older man said grabbing hold of her shirt again. This time she didn’t asked as she grabbed the arm of the old man and slammed him to the ground. She’d become annoyed with him and the two that seemed to be fools. <br />
<br />
“This is why I hate your kind.” Sara glanced back at the crowed and the thought of fighting pissed her off even more. “Why? Why me?” <br />
<br />
Everywhere I go I end up in a fight with a man. Why can’t I find pace anymore? I just want to be around smart gentle people. Not this horny little dogs that live on this earth.<br />
<br />
She pushed her way through the crowd to the center of the chaos.  “Dumb a**** stop this!” Her eyes and voice full of hatred walking towards them. <br />
<br />
The tall male dumped into Sara catching his footing from the weak kick he took. He smiled feeling the smooth body catch him. He felt her hand tighten around his arm before felting the pain in his face. She punched him to the ground before smashing her shoe into his gut. <br />
<br />
“I said stop this!” She devilish brown eyes glared deeply into the man’s eyes. She took a step towards the other person hoping her point was clear enough. <br />
<br />
“So, does that mean you chose me?”<br />
<br />
“No!” She threw a straight punch to the fight and kicked him in the gut. He dropped to his kneel holding his midsection. “Dogs like you should be a live!” She drew her sword from her side pointing one of them at his arms and the other one else where. “Choose.”</div>

]]></content:encoded>
			<category domain="http://www.zeldauniverse.net/forums/battle-arena/">Battle Arena</category>
			<dc:creator>nikuvillain</dc:creator>
			<guid isPermaLink="true">http://www.zeldauniverse.net/forums/battle-arena/102519-fighting-them-off-stryder-aedernis.html</guid>
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			<title>Call for All Eternity</title>
			<link>http://www.zeldauniverse.net/forums/battle-arena/102252-call-for-all-eternity-new-post.html</link>
			<pubDate>Tue, 10 Nov 2009 03:13:09 GMT</pubDate>
			<description><![CDATA[OoC: This battle is for 
*Stryder Aedernis 
Zorolo 
Cookie 
Drammor* 
 
I basically provided two locations (ship, city) where the action will be happening. But you can start off from anywhere you like, really. x3 I suppose an angel or two would receive a certain message, if they're in heaven. Well,...]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<div>OoC: This battle is for<br />
<b>Stryder Aedernis<br />
Zorolo<br />
Cookie<br />
Drammor</b><br />
<br />
I basically provided two locations (ship, city) where the action will be happening. But you can start off from anywhere you like, really. x3 I suppose an angel or two would receive a certain message, if they're in heaven. Well, you'll see. x3 I'm using Raisha Seraph, Matthew Cronqvist, Lady Destiny (who'll appear in my next post) and Rain (who'll appear sometime later on). Let's go have some fun in chaos.<br />
<br />
BiC:<br />
<br />
<br />
<center><i> “Kill not the Moth nor Butterfly,<br />
For the Last Judgement draweth nigh.” </i><br />
<br />
 -- William Blake, &quot;Auguries of Innocence&quot; (ca. 1803) </center><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Inside, there was wealth, fame and fortune, laughter, food and wine. And there were music and dancing throughout the large ballroom. The warmth of the lights flooded throughout; there was hardly any place without a suitable amount of warm, yellow lights. Well, at least, from what he could see from where he was. You see, high above the ballroom, there were vents. These vents consisted of metal… metal bars… the occasional rat, (“Squeeee! Furry-cute-thing!”). Then the occasional scurrying rat (“Aww… guhbye furry-cute-thing…”) along with the rush of cold air that kept the insides of this massive mechanical beast cool and running.<br />
Clown did not mind this environment at all.<br />
<br />
“I get to lie down all day in the cool, and listen to music! But it’s going back… and forth… back.. and forth.”<br />
<br />
When the ship tilted too much, the man (or… thing) composed totally of Innocence, slid up or down inside the vents. Occasionally, when the music quieted down, the people down below could hear his body scraping as it slid if they listened carefully enough; they dismissed it as nothing much, though. Probably some rats scurrying about—although, on a ship like this, should something like that really be dismissed? People didn’t care. They just enjoyed themselves.<br />
<br />
And soon the boat had rocked enough for Clown to slide down to one of the exiting vents; where the hot air rushes outside. But he found that cold air was being blown back in, as well. And after struggling to spin himself around inside the vent, putting his ear near the metal grate that blocked him from the outside, he heard the thunderous roar of pounding rain, coupled with the thrashing of the waves against the hull. His eyes were filled with numerous flashes of light and in the distance, numerous blades of white striking from the blackened skies. Below them, the waves twisted and rolled to great heights, seemingly overcoming the height of the ship itself and then all of a sudden, the ship’s bow would rise up sharply and stay for a few moments before floating back down.<br />
<br />
“Wooooooww…” his eyes were wide and mouth agape at the magnificent yet quite terrifying sight of the violent storm. Not that this was the only one he’d seen; something felt different about this one, too. Like it was… brought here, by force; but not force of nature. He wanted to go outside, in the black rain, but he didn’t want to climb all the way back up, and for some reason, Clown found himself unable to spin himself around again.<br />
<br />
“Oof! Ooofie! … Raaaawwrr! Oof!” And with a few well placed head butts, the grate fell to the deck; the sound of its clattering obscured at first by the rain and then completely overcome by a massive, resounding roll of thunder. The rain wasn’t obscured now; it began to beat inside of the vent even more, wetting Clown’s face, he let out a childish giggle, shouting, “Stop..! Stop…!” <br />
<br />
And then suddenly he stopped. Clockwork gears appeared over his cursed eye, hands and gears spinning rapidly, floating a few centimeters away from his eye, like a magical monocle. The thinnest second hand stopped spinning first, pointing straight downward; that was the direction. The minute hand stopped right after—on one. One threatening enemy… and then… and then the hour hand… It did not stop. It kept going around and around.  One thing... below… and surprisingly powerful. Swiftly, another personality overcame him as he slid out of the vent onto the deck. His cowl lengthened and surrounded him, the glittering mask moving to create a clasp at the front, the whole getup shielding him from the rain. <br />
<br />
Immediately, the boat tilted oddly, leaning to the side along with the bowing and rocking back. There was a loud crash of waves as the hull slammed into the rough waters of the black sea. A resounding shriek came from below the surface of the water, the boat tilting again, slowly.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<center>*    *    *</center><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<i> “—And we now go to Ian Wallace for our weather report. Ian?”<br />
<br />
“Thank you, Eric, and good evening to our viewers. Today we had some sweltering temperatures in the city and you’re not going to be happy to hear this, but tonight, it’s not going to get any better. And no, there doesn’t seem to be any rain on the horizon, either. Met. Offices do say, however to stay away from the harbor and beaches from tonight until tomorrow evening; a violent storm is brewing over the Atlantic this very moment. Met. Offices can’t say when or if this storm will hit the mainland, but I’d advise getting ready, just in case. That’s all from me tonight. Eric, back to you.”<br />
<br />
“Thank you, Ian. Looks like we’ll have to turn up the air conditioning and carry around our bottles of water tomorrow, as well.<br />
<br />
And next up, after the break! This is interesting—probes find <b>ruins</b> on Mars. That’s right, no water this time. Actual ruins! Is it some remains of some great civilization? Don’t change that channel—find out after the break!”</i><br />
<br />
And then there was that little jingle that played when the news started or left for a commercial break. Raisha had heard it numerous times; she had lost contact with Rain for the longest while and was slightly curious about his whereabouts. She was hoping that there’d be some odd news article that centered on the demonic, or a very eerie happening and even better, a glimpse of him in some video or picture. That would let her know he wasn’t in trouble. She wasn’t exactly worried—if Rain had died, she’d know, she’d feel it, but she may not know if he was held prisoner somewhere. Not that she thought low of him, she was just thinking out the possibilities.<br />
<br />
Other people would say she’s jumping to conclusions. And people other than them would say she’s legitimately worried. Perhaps she was, but she didn’t show it in her face so much, instead she did with her actions. <br />
<br />
Standing on this fire escape of this old building and peeking into the apartment at the television was over now. She quickly scaled the old, rusted contraption toward the roof. When she stood at the top, she looked out to the commercial district of the city with all its skyscrapers accompanied by a beautiful skyline with a purely orange background with purple clouds scattered all over, stretching over the sky and seemingly into the night that had taken over half the shimmering bowl. The purple clouds were arms that pulled the starry blanket of night over this part of the world. <br />
<br />
It was a beautiful sight. The addition of the silvery ribbons of light that streaked across it even added to the beauty.<br />
<br />
… Wait.<br />
<br />
Raisha’s eyes followed the silver ribbons that lead down to earth itself. The end was nearby—very near actually! The reaper ran to the edge of her rooftop and looked down at where the ribbons ended. They lead to a man in the middle of the street. He was facing away, and seemed to be normal looking; blonde hair, very decorated yellow and black long sleeved shirt which wasn’t tucked into his dark, black jeans. Hanging from his shoulder was what seemed to be a yellow Runner’s bag, the kind that modern-day on-foot messengers used in order to get secrets from one place to another.<br />
<br />
And then she saw… his shoes were obscured by… wings. That’s right.. there were two large, white wings stretching out from his sneakers. They looked too real to be fake; those were real feathers, and the wings moved as if they were an angel’s. And from the moment Raisha realized that, she found herself looking into the enchanting silver eyes.<br />
<br />
“You… are… “ Raisha began to speak to him, but when she moved her lips, her voice seemed to be quieted simply because of his presence. But the man had acknowledged her presence and he signaled that he had heard by nodding. The wind seemed to pick up then, and the same silvery streaks seemed to blow off of him like soft ribbons. One of the silvery slivers slithered past her, a soft, elegant whisper rising from it and kissing her ear.<br />
<br />
<i>“My name… is Sandalphon.”</i><br />
<br />
The angel messenger?! Allowing himself to be seen! Raisha’s mouth, for the first time in a while, was agape slightly in surprise. This was entirely not expected. Sandalphon winked at her in an almost flirty manner, gently tapping the tip off one of his shoe on the ground. As he did so, a few burning feathers loosened and floated to the ground, disintegrating into red ash.<br />
<br />
And another silver ribbon floated by; <i>“Hellfire… They’re coming. See you soon.”</i><br />
<br />
Just as swift as he had appeared, Sandalphon had vanished in a burst of ribbons, leaving streaks of them behind as he ran. <br />
<br />
Raisha speedily jumped down from her rooftop and chased after him with as much speed as she could muster. She could see him clearly, because they were both moving so fast that their bodies did not blur, but disappear entirely. They never had to change directions at all; they ran up and over and even across buildings. But she was at a disadvantage; she had to flit to the opposite building if there was a gasp, she couldn’t fly straight across like he could at a moment’s notice.<br />
<br />
The climax of the run came when Sandalphon shot up a skyscraper with Rai close behind. No matter what, she couldn’t catch up to him. He seemed to be teasing her; he looked back and grinned, winking once more. This was proven by the time he reached the top. He slowed down for a brief moment and then shot straight up into the sky, leaving behind a long, silver line that seemed to reach out for a star.<br />
<br />
The only evidence of this chase would be the silver ribbons left floating behind by the messenger, each giving off the same supernatural message for those who could hear, all over the city:<br />
<br />
“Hellfire, they’re coming.”<br />
<br />
The angels would hear about this, soon.</div>

]]></content:encoded>
			<category domain="http://www.zeldauniverse.net/forums/battle-arena/">Battle Arena</category>
			<dc:creator>insaney</dc:creator>
			<guid isPermaLink="true">http://www.zeldauniverse.net/forums/battle-arena/102252-call-for-all-eternity.html</guid>
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			<title>Battle Arena Role Playing</title>
			<link>http://www.zeldauniverse.net/forums/battle-arena/102040-battle-arena-role-playing-new-post.html</link>
			<pubDate>Fri, 06 Nov 2009 18:48:53 GMT</pubDate>
			<description>Okay, battling is not my forte. I actually always struggle the most when I am faced with action scenes. I have no confidence in this area so I asked someone who did to give me their advice. This is what he had to say:  
---Quote (Originally by Coyote)--- 
*How Not to Be a Douche in a Combat...</description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<div>Okay, battling is not my forte. I actually always struggle the most when I am faced with action scenes. I have no confidence in this area so I asked someone who did to give me their advice. This is what he had to say: <div style="margin:20px; margin-top:5px; ">
	<div class="smallfont" style="margin-bottom:2px">Quote:</div>
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				<div>
					Originally Posted by <strong>Coyote</strong>
					
				</div>
				<div style="font-style:italic"><center><font size="5"><b>How Not to Be a Douche in a Combat Roleplay</b></font></center><br />
<br />
<b>1.) </b> Do not use a character that does not belong to you. You have your character, they have their character. Use yours. Let them use theirs. That is how roleplaying works.<br />
<br />
<b>2.) </b> Sometimes less is more. This works in almost every roleplay, but in combat you can multiply that by ten billion and put a neon sign over it that says &quot;Pay attention, dammit.&quot; A single round of combat (meaning that you post your turn, they post their turn(s), and it becomes your turn again) should probably be somewhere around fifteen to twenty seconds. That means that you have between about eight and ten seconds for your character to do something. Keep that in mind when you consider the quantity you want to write and ask yourself this: would it really all happen in ten seconds? <br />
<br />
<b>3.) </b> If you follow rules one and two simultaneously, things move faster and easier. If you only use your character you severely cut down what you can do. If you limit the quantity you are pumping out, you make it easier and faster for someone else to reply back. Do not mistake a fast moving fight for a bad one. Sometimes it is the mark of a fantastic fight that each turn is just a paragraph, because usually when that is true there are a few dozen turns.<br />
<br />
<b>4.) </b> Get hurt. You are in a fight. If it is a fist fight, expect bruises and broken bones and say that they are happening. If it is a bladed fight, expect that your character might get cut or stabbed. If it is a blunt implement fight, expect some serious internal injuries and broken bones and lots of bruises. If it is a magic fight, keep in mind what is being done to your character—burns from fire, paralysis or even nerve misfiring from electricity, difficulty moving or breathing from ice. A lot of really bad stuff can happen to a character fighting in the Escapists' Haven. Let it happen. It will be more fun and gives you a chance to exercise your exposition gland. Not a lot can be more justifiably over-described in a fight than pain and the injuries that causes pain.<br />
<br />
<b>5.) </b> Do not be afraid to lose. To be honest, the idea that your character needs to win is one that is not at all fun. A good policy is to work out how the fight is likely to end before it really begins. Agree on who the winner will be, then just enjoy writing towards the end. If something changes dramatically in between, redo the discussion on who will win. Do not get mad, do not get offended, and do not cling to the idea that you have to win. Losing is more fun nine times out of ten.<br />
<br />
<b>6.) </b> Fighter, know thyself. Your character is yours to roleplay, but you should keep in mind exactly what your character can and would do. The hard part is not knowing the abilities, either, it is knowing how the character would use them. An aggressive punk with the power to destroy a planet is more likely to try it than a bleeding heart. Remember that the mental aspect of a character does not disappear in a fight, it only gets more focused.<br />
<br />
<b>7.) </b> Be prepared to have that last epic scene where your character is the winner or loser and you have to find a way to extricate yourself from the fight without killing someone off. This is the best time for those huge revelations and giant monologues everyone seems to like, so if you really need to, go crazy at the end. Just be prepared to do it in a way that does not murder the tone of the fight.<br />
<br />
<b>8.) </b> Do keep tone in mind. The tone of the fight might be difficult to pin down. Maybe you have an idealistic character fighting a cynic. You are going to have to find a way to balance the two perspectives. Try to communicate with your partner as much as you can. They can give a lot of insight into their perspective and you can give insight into your own. It will make it easier to make the fight flow if you both work to maintain the same tone.<br />
<br />
<b>9.) </b> Talking is not a free action. Writing a monologue into a fight can be powerplaying. If the opponent would press the attack regardless of whether your character wanted to talk or not, <u>you are powerplaying</u> if you monologue without that happening. Communicate with your partner before launching into a mid-fight monologue. Sometimes it just does not make sense.<br />
<br />
<b>10.) </b> Focus on body-centered writing. Keep in mind things like which direction your character is facing, where they are in relation to their opponent, how well they can see and what their line-of-sight is like, and how long they have been fighting. Those things are a huge effect on what your character can and is doing.<br />
<br />
<b>11.) </b> Know the environment. Things like lightning, floor stability and traction, and hazards are huge in a fight. Consider that you might be fighting in pine forest, where someone can run away and drop into the brush to hide and surprise you. Consider that you might be in a dark cave with almost no room to move. Consider that you might be on an icy lake with no safe footing. These things effect what your character can do, how well they move, and what they can expect to happen if they try to make a huge bang. Imagine throwing earth-shaking magic inside a cave, where the roof might fall in on you. That should give an idea of how important your environment can be.<br />
<br />
<b>12.) </b> Have fun. Writing fights can be unbelievably fun. The human brain has a section that actually registers pleasure in seeing other people suffer. Fighting just pleases us. Remember that the whole point of roleplaying a fight is to enjoy it, to have fun. If you are not having fun, find a way, otherwise the whole purpose is lost.</div>
			
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			<category domain="http://www.zeldauniverse.net/forums/battle-arena/">Battle Arena</category>
			<dc:creator>Shrub</dc:creator>
			<guid isPermaLink="true">http://www.zeldauniverse.net/forums/battle-arena/102040-battle-arena-role-playing.html</guid>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title><![CDATA[Testing One's Luck (Anyone)]]></title>
			<link>http://www.zeldauniverse.net/forums/battle-arena/101931-testing-ones-luck-anyone-new-post.html</link>
			<pubDate>Wed, 04 Nov 2009 21:06:10 GMT</pubDate>
			<description><![CDATA[It had been one month since Dilnos had his last battle, and he was recovering nicely. He had the local blacksmith repair the Gravity Gauntlets back to normal, he had trained with Ardnal for a bit, and he had Gadget talking to him in between her works. 
 
Now was one of those moments. 
 
"Look,...]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<div>It had been one month since Dilnos had his last battle, and he was recovering nicely. He had the local blacksmith repair the Gravity Gauntlets back to normal, he had trained with Ardnal for a bit, and he had Gadget talking to him in between her works.<br />
<br />
Now was one of those moments.<br />
<br />
&quot;Look, Dilnos,&quot; Gadget said as politely as she could, &quot;I'm a bit busy right now,&quot;<br />
<br />
Dilnos looked over her shoulders, curious as to what she was &quot;busy&quot; with. They were both at a wooden desk next to the porting device he had used to get to his last battle. On the desk was some sort of blueprints for a new tool. The plans looked like a portable fan when he saw the last step.<br />
<br />
“A fan?” Dilnos asked.<br />
<br />
“Yes, a fan,”<br />
<br />
“You know, they already invented those,”<br />
<br />
“I know, but I’m not going to buy one for a hundred dollars,”<br />
<br />
“Okay…”<br />
<br />
“Look, why don’t you go through the porting device? You need to get out and do more battles,”<br />
<br />
“How? The Recall Bracelet were destroyed when I came back, remember?”<br />
<br />
The Recall Bracelet was a sort of bracelets that ultimately saved Dilnos after his last battle. It did what its name says: it recalls the person wearing it back through the mother portal, which was located inside the very place they were in right now.<br />
<br />
“Oh… those. I fixed them about a month ago, didn’t you remember?” She asked.<br />
<br />
“Not really. I was busy training with Ardnal,”<br />
<br />
“I hung them on the side of the device. Grab them, push the button next to them, and step through the portal,”<br />
<br />
“Which button?”<br />
<br />
“You’ll see it. It’s green,”<br />
<br />
“Okay, thanks,”<br />
<br />
He turned and walked to his left for a bit. Then he looked for the Recall Bracelet. He found it on a nail protruding out of the structure. He grabbed it, put it on his right wrist, and looked for a green button. He found it right underneath the nail.<br />
<br />
<i>Gadget, sometimes I don’t know you…</i> he thought as he pressed it. The portal appeared. It was green with a touch of white in the middle.<br />
<br />
“I’ll be back,” he said. He checked himself. He had the Recall Bracelet, the Magnif, and the repaired Gravity Gauntlets on him, so he stepped through the portal.<br />
<br />
He felt a slight jerk, something that had a huge consequence later on as he landed.<br />
<br />
He fell flat on his face.<br />
<br />
“Ow,” he said as he got out. He was currently standing in the middle of somewhere high. He looked ahead. In front of him, he saw a rather huge mountain out in the distance. Behind him was a solid wall of rocks. Fearing the worst, he walked over to an edge and looked down. He saw a deep gorge that stretched down for a good who-knows-what distance before it went all black.<br />
<br />
“Whoa,” he said. He didn’t expect to see an abyss.<br />
<br />
<i>Okay, get a grip, Dilnos…</i> he thought frantically, <i>Your opponent should be here in a minute…</i><br />
<br />
<i>Or two…</i><br />
<br />
He decided to back away from the edge and sat down against the wall, trying to make sense of what was going on. He remembered that he in a forest last time, but why wasn’t he there now? Still, either he’s in his opponent’s world, or the portal will bring him here.</div>

]]></content:encoded>
			<category domain="http://www.zeldauniverse.net/forums/battle-arena/">Battle Arena</category>
			<dc:creator>Dilnos521</dc:creator>
			<guid isPermaLink="true">http://www.zeldauniverse.net/forums/battle-arena/101931-testing-ones-luck-anyone.html</guid>
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		<item>
			<title><![CDATA[Magic Has Many Faces [Sabbo]]]></title>
			<link>http://www.zeldauniverse.net/forums/battle-arena/101908-magic-has-many-faces-sabbo-new-post.html</link>
			<pubDate>Wed, 04 Nov 2009 03:20:19 GMT</pubDate>
			<description>It was three in the morning when the phone rang in the big, quiet house in Santa Mariela. No one, much less Cadenza Madrigal, was inclined to be personable at three in the bloody morning. She uttered a series of impolite groans and mumbled swear words, and groped around on the bedside table for her...</description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<div>It was three in the morning when the phone rang in the big, quiet house in Santa Mariela. No one, much less Cadenza Madrigal, was inclined to be personable at three in the bloody morning. She uttered a series of impolite groans and mumbled swear words, and groped around on the bedside table for her cell. Damn, she thought, she should've turned down the volume on the ringer. The whole neighborhood could probably hear Madonna's greatest hits blasting from the little thing.<br />
<br />
&quot;Diga me,&quot; she managed, after a few grumbled tries at a greeting. Screw that. No one who called at three AM deserved a greeting anyway.<br />
<br />
Tracey de Carlo's jittery, somewhat nasally voice came over the receiver loud and particularly irritating to the gypsy's groggy senses, &quot;Cadenza, Cadenza, oh thank the lord you answered! I know it's late, but... but see, Alex has gone missing, and... and Monroe and I have searched everywhere, and...! And...!&quot;<br />
<br />
&quot;Wait...&quot; Cadenza muttered, wincing at the detective's sheer volume. Her temples were already beginning to throb. She had no idea how Rain was sleeping through this. <i>Sloths</i> couldn't have slept through this, she thought. &quot;...she's only eight, Red, where could she have even gone...? Don't you guys lock your doors...? How long's she been missing...?&quot;<br />
<br />
&quot;I... I don't know...! She just... we went up to... to tell her dinner was ready earlier, and...!&quot;<br />
<br />
There was a momentary pause from the gypsy woman's end. &quot;...oh gods,&quot; she said finally, &quot;<i>Alex</i> missed dinner? This <i>is</i> serious. Well... come on, Holmes, you're the detective here. You must have some other details I could go on...&quot;<br />
<br />
Tracey's voice suddenly became defensive at this, as if she were deeply offended. And that was precisely why Cadenza had said it. Hopefully it'd make her at least try to speak in clearer, more fluid sentences. And quieter. Please quieter. &quot;Of course...! We... we have searched all over town and the neighboring deserts and shacks. We have left word at the police stations and inns, and have received no word back since seven this evening. And... well... the door to Monroe's study was left... ajar. Perhaps...?&quot;<br />
<br />
&quot;Perhaps... what? Finish your sentences, de Carlo. I haven't got a clue what's in your hubby's little grubby office.&quot;<br />
<br />
&quot;I believe he mentioned... some sort of door to the 'Dome'... perhaps she wandered through...? He was going to search, but... we have no way of tracking her, a-and...&quot; the detective's voice faltered. She hated to admit she couldn't pick up on a trail.<br />
<br />
&quot;...you don't, but I do. No, don't ask me to explain... it'd involve magical jabber and you'd just wind up confused and asking way too many questions. But trust me, I'll get on it. I'm not having my poor niece wander around alone in some unfamiliar world...&quot; <br />
<br />
----------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
In an unfamiliar world, Alessandra Dionne, known as &quot;Alex&quot; to her friends, was wandering around alone. It was not, altogether, a horrible place. It seemed very wide and open, and the air smelled fresh, for the most part. Here and there as she walked, she could catch a whiff of some rather delicious smelling food coming from small little homes near these strange stepped and watery expanses of land filled with rice. She had tried asking an old man she'd passed what the funny-looking places were called, but he'd just rattled off something to her in a weird, fast-paced foreign language and hurried on his way. She had been hoping he'd at least offer her some of whatever snack he'd been munching on. She felt he'd been kind of rude.<br />
<br />
After some time walking, the girl was beginning to get cold. It was the wind, that was it. What she wouldn't do for that nice electric blanket her dad would wrap her up in on cooler nights... but hey, what was keeping her from warming herself up like that now? She had a sweatshirt on over her clothes... that should be good enough. All she needed was the electricity, right? Well she definitely had that covered.<br />
<br />
A small spark of green arched from her fingers into the cloth, and did just the trick. Alex wasn't aware that using her magic would give off a trace of magical energy to anyone who was sensitive enough to it. Or that she plain exuded magic, as all mages from her world did, at all times. And she certainly didn't know that could get her into trouble if she ran across the wrong kind of people...<br />
<br />
<b>OoC</b>: Because Honor didn't know what it meant--<br />
&quot;Diga me&quot; = literally &quot;Talk to me&quot;, a common phrase used in Spanish when answering a telephone call</div>

]]></content:encoded>
			<category domain="http://www.zeldauniverse.net/forums/battle-arena/">Battle Arena</category>
			<dc:creator>Altamira</dc:creator>
			<guid isPermaLink="true">http://www.zeldauniverse.net/forums/battle-arena/101908-magic-has-many-faces-sabbo.html</guid>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>The Living End (Trap Master)</title>
			<link>http://www.zeldauniverse.net/forums/battle-arena/101633-the-living-end-trap-master-new-post.html</link>
			<pubDate>Thu, 29 Oct 2009 20:25:08 GMT</pubDate>
			<description><![CDATA[It was one of those days. 
 
One of which he took a step out of the Dome and roamed, waiting for fate to bring him where he needed to be. This was one of the things he liked about the Dome. He asked it to bring him somewhere. Anywhere. A sort of &#8220;surprise me&#8221; gesture. Each time, he was certainly...]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<div>It was one of those days.<br />
<br />
One of which he took a step out of the Dome and roamed, waiting for fate to bring him where he needed to be. This was one of the things he liked about the Dome. He asked it to bring him somewhere. Anywhere. A sort of &#8220;surprise me&#8221; gesture. Each time, he was certainly taken to a place that needed aid. Not yet to the three he searched for, but he trusted that the Dome and Elohim would bring them to him when the time was right.<br />
<br />
Not every mission he carried out for the Dome was completely successful. Adrien knew very well, though most would disagree, after seeing his flawless movement, strength, speed, and efficiency in most tasks, that he was not perfect. For he had not been able to prevent Caragon&#8217;s curse in the False Knight business of the previous village he had visited, nor the death of the woman that had occurred during his stay. All he could do was accept them. For fate has chosen for him to be imperfect in such ways.<br />
<br />
It always was a little of a surprise when these days happened. Though experienced and old in so many senses, and knowing that these things simply happen, it never really took the pain of it away. Adrien was beyond numbing himself from such things; for compassion had been an emotion he had come to know to be the worthiest of them all. It was a sort of rule to him, but more than that. For a rule was something one forced themselves to obey. Compassion was simply a part of his essence now. When one comes to their authentic self, these things just came naturally. When acting on the authentic self, one can never really choose or act wrongly.<br />
<br />
It was a summer day in the port city of Keithon. The salt and seaweed smell of the ocean was strong in the air, being blown in from the endless sea. The day was hot but the air was a gentle cool. Few clouds were blotted in the sky. Needless to say, it was a beautiful day for something so foul.<br />
<br />
Adrien was roaming the slums of this city, where the unfortunate made their homes and often worked much too hard to the grand fishing boats and companies that took root in the cities. Over worked, under paid, but there was no other work available in the city. So they made due. <br />
<br />
Money jiggled in his pocket, he had come to always carrying some around with him. He never knew when it would be needed, so he always carried some just in case. Be it charity for the poor, or spare change for someone needing it in the market. Adrien was starting to think it was one of those days to comb through this slum and leave some hand-outs with the civilians there.</div>

]]></content:encoded>
			<category domain="http://www.zeldauniverse.net/forums/battle-arena/">Battle Arena</category>
			<dc:creator>Shrub</dc:creator>
			<guid isPermaLink="true">http://www.zeldauniverse.net/forums/battle-arena/101633-the-living-end-trap-master.html</guid>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title><![CDATA[Shopping Spree - [Ysionris]]]></title>
			<link>http://www.zeldauniverse.net/forums/battle-arena/101617-shopping-spree-ysionris-new-post.html</link>
			<pubDate>Thu, 29 Oct 2009 06:33:48 GMT</pubDate>
			<description>Jennifer Frost (http://www.zeldauniverse.net/forums/characters/85611-lysis-index.html#post2472695) pulled into the parking lot, driving her shiny black luxury sedan around the back of the shopping mall, where she was out of sight. She stepped out of the car, shutting the door behind her; it locked...</description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<div><a href="http://www.zeldauniverse.net/forums/characters/85611-lysis-index.html#post2472695" target="_blank">Jennifer Frost</a> pulled into the parking lot, driving her shiny black luxury sedan around the back of the shopping mall, where she was out of sight. She stepped out of the car, shutting the door behind her; it locked automatically. She then walked around to the back of her vehicle and pushed a button on her key chain to open the trunk. It slid open smoothly and silently, revealing supplies and weapons galore. Jennifer reached in and grabbed a plasma gun. Opening its chamber, she slid in the bright green plasma cylinders and closed it up again. With a low hiss, the weapon began to charge the weaponized plasma, preparing it for use. She did the same thing with another plasma weapon and then attached them both to the straps on her thighs.<br />
<br />
Next, Jennifer pulled a large black case out of the trunk, setting it on the roof of the car. Entering a four-digit code, she opened the lid of the case, revealing her most prized weapon: the laserbeam carbine. She pulled the relatively small and unimposing black weapon out of the case, quickly and skillfully putting it together; attaching the bipod and the sling, as well as inserting the battery cell pack. A flick of a switch and the weapon began to warm up. She slung the weapon over her back and then pulled one last thing out of the vehicle—the armorsuit helmet. Pulling the helmet over her long blonde hair and hiding her amber eyes, Jennifer became the faceless assassin; a ghost among the shadows.<br />
<br />
She was dressed up now in full gear; her armorsuit, weapons, and visor. Her target for the day was inside the shopping mall, making this a complicated mission indeed. CORE had been tracking this individual ever since they first discovered her, although Frost didn't know when that was. Apparently the target had entered this dimension from another one, making this a high-priority target. CORE always had their eyes on the fabric of spacetime; in fact, the main reason they were founded was to protect the Earth from extraterrestrial, and extra<i>dimensional</i>, threat. Anything that came through to this world from another world was automatically CORE's business, no questions asked. Sometimes all they did was watch, other times they went into deeper investigation. Sometimes, they had to eliminate the threat.<br />
<br />
Of course, many times it just wasn't that easy. If it were simply a matter of eliminating the target and being done with it, CORE wouldn't have sent Jennifer. They would have sent one of their bigger guns and they would have had it over with by now. Instead, CORE wanted to investigate and they needed someone to collect the specimen. The ever-curious minds of the CORE laboratory scientists could never allow the trigger-happy fingers of the CORE paramilitary gunmen to destroy an unexamined specimen. There was too much to be learned about the other dimensions and the creatures hailing from them.<br />
<br />
Jennifer walked up to the large loading bay door, leading to the loading dock where the shopping mall receives all its newly delivered goods. Standing in front of the door today were two unlikely figures; guards dressed up in black armor similar to Jennifer's own. They were each carrying an arc-beam laser rifle and they greeted Jennifer with a nod as she approached the ramp.<br />
<br />
&quot;You have the place secure?&quot; Jennifer asked as she reached the top of the ramp.<br />
<br />
&quot;Yes ma'am. All exits are being watched and we have undercover agents inside, ready to assist,&quot; the guard on the left spoke up. &quot;As I'm sure you are well aware, we were unable to evacuate the building before you arrived. Doing so would, of course, alert the target.&quot;<br />
<br />
This meant that the shopping mall was still full of shoppers, of course. They couldn't risk locking the place down and evacuating the building, or else the target could get away. They needed to catch her buy surprise. So, Jennifer would have to be extremely careful not to let any of the shoppers get hurt, not even by the target.<br />
<br />
&quot;Okay then, let me in,&quot; Jennifer said.<br />
<br />
<center>~ &amp; ~</center><br />
<br />
Jennifer Frost leaned against the wall, mostly hidden among the shadows, watching the target from afar. Unfortunately, it was impossible to remain completely hidden in the middle of a crowded shopping mall. The few people that passed by close enough to notice her kept their distance, noting her armorsuit and the heavy weapons hanging from it. The glow-badge on her shoulder assured the shoppers that she was on official government business, rather than being a terrorist of any sort, but they were certainly concerned wondering what kind of business such a heavily-armed soldier could possibly have in a place like the shopping mall.<br />
<br />
Raising her gloved hand and getting ready to give the signal to the undercover agents, Jennifer stepped away from the wall into the light and began to approach the target. The target, in this mission, appeared to be a young girl, of around sixteen years old. She was dressed in a typical schoolgirl uniform and had light white hair, making her easy to tail. As soon as the target disappeared into one of the stores, Jennifer quickly made the signal and started moving quickly towards the shop. Multiple CORE agents, dressed as mall security officers, suddenly appeared out of the shadows where they had been lurking. They would get the immediate area evacuated of innocent shoppers in case this extraction job got a bit heated up.<br />
<br />
Jennifer armed one of her plasma rifles, attaching it to her left arm, and entered the store. She was followed by three guards, carrying shock batons (disguised as regular police batons, of course). &quot;Everyone, please evacuate the store,&quot; Jennifer said, her voice amplified through her helmet's speakers. Suddenly everyone in the room was alert and active. The security guards began to direct them out of the shop, herding them towards the doors and out into the main walking area.<br />
<br />
&quot;Except you,&quot; Jennifer said, directing her weapon in the direction of the target. &quot;You can come with me.&quot;</div>

]]></content:encoded>
			<category domain="http://www.zeldauniverse.net/forums/battle-arena/">Battle Arena</category>
			<dc:creator>Lysis</dc:creator>
			<guid isPermaLink="true">http://www.zeldauniverse.net/forums/battle-arena/101617-shopping-spree-ysionris.html</guid>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>Star Word</title>
			<link>http://www.zeldauniverse.net/forums/battle-arena/101546-star-word-new-post.html</link>
			<pubDate>Tue, 27 Oct 2009 03:59:13 GMT</pubDate>
			<description><![CDATA[&#8220;Take me out,&#8221; murmured Tom, laying back in the chair and raising the whiskey bottle to his lips once more. The brightly lit console in front of him winked knowingly before the voice of the ship&#8217;s AI, Orion, spoke up. 
 
&#8220;Mr. Costigan, you are proposing that I guide this ship out into the void of...]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<div>&#8220;Take me out,&#8221; murmured Tom, laying back in the chair and raising the whiskey bottle to his lips once more. The brightly lit console in front of him winked knowingly before the voice of the ship&#8217;s AI, Orion, spoke up.<br />
<br />
&#8220;Mr. Costigan, you are proposing that I guide this ship out into the void of intergalactic space, when it has been stated multiple times that this collection of systems has no planets or life forms whatsoever.&#8221;<br />
<br />
&#8220;That&#8217;s right.&#8221;<br />
<br />
&#8220;Is that advisable?&#8221;<br />
<br />
The whiskey seared his throat viciously, and he gritted his teeth, tilting his head until the pain blossomed into a warm fuzzy ball in his stomach. He lifted his slightly watery gaze back up to the console. &#8220;Just do it, Orion. That&#8217;s an order.&#8221;<br />
<br />
Without another word, he felt the Traverse Engines kick in, and he sank back into the chair a little further as the tiny ship zipped forward like an aimless bullet. Through the wrap-around window above the console, Tom could see nothing but distant stars and the blank backdrop of space, apparently devoid of life. <i>Perfect.</i><br />
<br />
The Graywing rattled quietly, a comforting feeling. Tom sank yet deeper into the chair, clutching the whiskey bottle close to his chest and closing his eyes slowly. He could think of nothing better than flying into an abyss, away from his insanity-ravaged galaxy, away from the Humans, the Sangis, even the Tocians. It was a peaceful idea; one that he could accept without feeling conflicted at all.<br />
<br />
He took another pull from the bottle without opening his eyes, and savored the satisfying burn as it went down. A small smile crept soundlessly over his face, almost imperceptibly. No more bullets and bloodshed out here, in the darkness by himself.<br />
<br />
Before long, he felt his grip on the bottle slipping, but found he could not save it from sliding between his fingers and thumping against the floor of the ship, thankfully not shattering. He did not acknowledge it&#8212;his eyes were resolutely shut, and his extremities too numb to even twitch. The world around him faded, both physically and mentally. It was a welcoming prospect.<br />
<br />
- - -<br />
<br />
All too soon, he was roused from his peaceful slumber by the hectic flashing of a red light from the console, filling the small Graywing&#8217;s cabin over and over. He groaned, and mumbled something that even he couldn&#8217;t understand.<br />
<br />
&#8220;Mr. Costigan!&#8221; barked Orion, louder than Tom had ever heard the AI speak. He sat up violently, flailing his arms and legs simultaneously&#8212;his left foot made contact with something light, and he realized after a few seconds that he had kicked his bottle across the cabin.<br />
<br />
&#8220;What?&#8221; he growled, seizing the arms of his chair in an attempt to steady his spiraling brain.<br />
<br />
&#8220;We have emerged somewhere that I cannot track. We are no longer in the Elfus system. I am unable to hail any local frequencies, though they appear to be in abundance all around us.&#8221;<br />
<br />
The artificial voice was still stating everything quite urgently, sending an ache through Tom&#8217;s already throbbing head. &#8220;What do you mean, we left the system? We must be in a different one now!&#8221;<br />
<br />
&#8220;Precisely, Mr. Costigan. However, it is not a system that is tracked by the Administration, and the communications are foreign and do not recognize my signals.&#8221;<br />
<br />
At this point, though the information made no sense, Tom finally managed to peel his gaze up, through the agonizing red flashes on the console, and he stared through the window. A massive planet reared up in his vision, a very familiar color&#8230;<br />
<br />
&#8220;We are also upside down,&#8221; added Orion. &#8220;In a free fall for this planet, which I also cannot identify.&#8221;<br />
<br />
&#8220;WELL CORRECT, DAMN IT!&#8221; Tom roared, attempting to pull himself upright. He slipped as the ship gave a shuddering jerk, and he toppled over the right arm of the chair, crashing to the floor on his shoulder, which shrieked in agony. He let out a grunt of pain, and for a second he lay still as the spastic movement continued.<br />
<br />
&#8220;Power failing,&#8221; announced Orion, still in an uncharacteristically blaring fashion. &#8220;Rexin supply currently at one ninth of full capacity.&#8221;<br />
<br />
&#8220;How long have we been traveling?&#8221; Tom growled in response, pulling himself slowly to his feet and shrugging off the stabbing pain now in his shoulder. Without waiting for a reply, he seized the side of the still flashing console and snarled into it, &#8220;Orient this ship and get us away from this planet!&#8221;<br />
<br />
&#8220;I am unable to navigate the vessel away from the planet, Mr. Costigan. I am sorry, but we have already entered the atmosphere.&#8221;<br />
<br />
&#8220;Divert all power from shields and cloaking to the main engine,&#8221; Tom ordered, his brain now working at a slightly quicker pace as the buzzing in his head receded. There was a low grumble from all around him, and the ship abruptly flipped off of its side, orienting on the steadily approaching planet in front of them.<br />
<br />
&#8220;Can you land this thing?&#8221; he asked the console, still clutching at it with white knuckles.<br />
<br />
&#8220;I can, but I will not be able to change the position of the vessel from the point that we have arrived at. We can only hope that there will be a land mass below us.&#8221;<br />
<br />
Tom swallowed this news slowly, and ran a hand over his face. The Graywing was now passing through the cloud cover of the mysterious planet, and a realization rose in his throat like vomit: he could do nothing but rely on Orion to set the ship down. The very familiar sensation of helplessness engulfed him as he stood holding onto the console like it was a lifeline&#8212;the ship was not his element.<br />
<br />
For several minutes Tom decided to save his words for when they were necessary. The wrap-around window showed nothing but white fog, clouds shifting by the ship like gentle hands that refused to catch the failing craft. From outside there came a high-pitched whistle that Tom unfortunately recognized from past free-falls toward a planet surface. It was the whistle of wind&#8230; and at the same time he could feel himself sliding gently toward the back of the cabin.<br />
<br />
After several arduous minutes of tense silence within the cabin, the clouds seemed to part like a gateway, and the planet&#8217;s surface was clear&#8212;though there was not much to see. A blank slate of white land stretched across the world as far as Tom could see through the window. It had to be ice&#8212;they were going to land on a frozen planet.<br />
<br />
Just as he began to accept this strange idea, his eyes caught a small patch of green amongst the icy expanse. It was only a pinprick against the blankness, like a speck of dirt. It continued to grow bigger as the Graywing angled toward the planet, however, until it eventually resolved itself into a tropical oasis, full of bright green palm trees, thick grass and waterfalls. The sight was so out of place in the midst of the wasteland that Tom actually stared at it for several long seconds before he realized that the Graywing was now only a few miles above ground level.<br />
<br />
Just as this fact came to him, however, he felt the ships descent rapidly slowing. He let out a loud whistle of relief, and muttered quietly, &#8220;So there was enough power left to slow up and avoid a crash?&#8221;<br />
<br />
&#8220;Negative,&#8221; replied Orion calmly. &#8220;There is only enough power to slow the vessel for another few seconds. I suggest that you brace for impact, Mr. Costigan.&#8221;<br />
<br />
Tom leapt into the chair immediately, swearing through his teeth as he belted himself in. He eyed the ever-looming sheet of ice warily as it approached the window, now at a worryingly rapid pace. He gripped the arms of the chair fiercely, unable to tear his gaze away&#8212;<br />
<br />
A second before impact Tom shut his eyes tightly. There was an earsplitting <i>bang</i> of metal on ice, and he felt himself fly forward roughly, the belts restraining him in their vice-like grip. The sound of shattering glass reached his ears a moment before he felt himself pelted with razor edged shards of the wraparound window. He kept a firm grip on the arms of his chair, praying that it would not dislodge itself from the floor&#8230; an unpleasantly intense screeching sound was now assaulting his ears, flooding through the area and rattling his mind, as well as every object around him. For several seconds he remained this way, simply holding on for his life as he waited for the noise to end.<br />
<br />
The shaking gradually died down, as well as the screeching that had accompanied it. After a few seconds of silence, Tom opened his eyes&#8212;the cabin was a complete wreck, the console flattened and destroyed, wires dangling from the ceiling and the walls of the Graywing torn roughly open, leaving gaping holes where there had once been several inches of sturdy metal. He was encased mostly in darkness, save for a few beams of light filtering down through similar tears in the ceiling.<br />
<br />
He unbelted himself and fell from the chair, landing palms-down on the frayed floor of the cabin, feeling drained and shaky. This was not at all the worst crash that he had ever endured, but it was not something that he planned on getting used to any time soon. He lifted himself slowly to his feet, the top of his head brushing the ruined ceiling of the Graywing. Dry sounding wind was whipping through the holes in the ship, and for a moment Tom considered the prospect of leaving the ship and dealing with the weather. He concluded that he had no other pieces of clothing in the ship aside from the thin black jacket that he had on.<br />
<br />
He stumbled to the back of the cabin and tore open the dangling closet doors. He seized the Stebb M. 7 handgun that was still stored on the top shelf and backed away, checking the two clips by instinct. Both were full&#8212;he tucked the gun into his belt and made his way to the hatch, sliding it open cautiously.<br />
<br />
He was bathed in a sea of blinding light, causing him to hold a hand over his eyes for a second to adjust himself. The wind hit him after the light, whipping his hair back off his forehead and almost forcing him to take a step back. He shook himself mentally and stepped out of the destroyed ship, onto the ice. His shoe dipped into an inch or so of snow before he made contact with solid ground.<br />
<br />
It truly was a wasteland, stretching from horizon to horizon. To his left was the beginning of the inexplicable oasis, bright green trees rising high up over the rich, grassy soil. Tom stared at it in utter confusion, twitching his fingers.<br />
<br />
&#8220;Your luck astounds me, Mr. Costigan.&#8221;<br />
<br />
He jumped and nearly went for the Stebb before he realized that the voice had come from his pocket. He dug a hand in and pulled out the data card, Orion&#8217;s voice still rattling out of it.<br />
<br />
&#8220;That&#8217;s the third crash that you have survived with me piloting.&#8221;<br />
<br />
&#8220;Yeah, maybe I should get a new driver.&#8221;<br />
<br />
The AI chuckled quietly, a rare sound that was almost lost with the wind. Tom eyed the red card fondly, grateful that here, lost on this unknown planet, he still had one familiar thing left with him. He jerked his head toward the oasis to his left. &#8220;Any idea what the hell that thing&#8217;s doing in the middle of an ice field?&#8221;<br />
<br />
A few seconds passed before Orion responded. &#8220;I cannot say, Mr. Costigan. Knowing you, I can only guess what the next step will be.&#8221;<br />
<br />
Tom shoved the card back into his pocket. &#8220;You know me too well.&#8221;</div>

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