[Round 1] Hell's Gate - Euphoria vs. Snaresticks

Spring Tournament 2009, Round One - Hell's Gate [Euphoria vs. Snaresticks]

As the battle progresses, just remember that each fight will go on for about 25-30 posts, the character that you choose for this first round must be the character you use for the entire duration of the tournament, and that Councilors characters (for example, in this thread, Monroe) will act as a referee for this thread and maintain balance. Try to keep posts at around 500 words max, and avoid controlling your opponent's character. With all that said, have at it and have fun!

BIC: Rustic, red and expansive. The large, steel bridge was known as Hell's Gate for the years of gang warfare that had ensued when the bridge was built all those years ago. Monroe stood upon the highest suspension tower, looking down at the surrounding areas. Two islands whose inhabitants had been fighting for control of the bridge had finally stopped a few years ago, and things had now gone quiet.

The Quincy looked from his perch at the highest point of the tower and looked at the large cables that attached each of the suspension towers together. Generally, the dark clad man wouldn't have spent his time here, as he was now, but today was a unique day. This job he had been asked to do.

The cables shook as a blast of wind shot through the metal structure. The photon wielder checked his jacket for something of interest. The mayors of both islands that were linked by this bridge had ordered it be destroyed, for the betterment of both societies. Well, Monroe couldn't let that happen today.

This bridge would become a battlefield shortly. A sick little plot that brought people together for a fight produced by the Dome. If Zorlo had been alive, Monroe knew the green haired man would have jumped on any of the fights he could have. "As an homage to you, Zorlo, I'll be the Watchman of this fight."

Monroe's eyes lit up as he looked down and over at each end of the bridge. The fighters would be there soon, and then the chaos would ensue. True, there wasn't very much in the line of danger here, but then again, that's why Monroe was here. He had to keep the fighters safe so they could kill each other properly. After all, if these fighters weren't ready to fight with their all, death was only certain.

"And they will cry up to me, 'Help us,' and I'll whisper back... 'No!'"

OoC: Oh, how I miss writing!

IC:

Rosalie remembered honey. She remembered its sweet, sticky taste as it trickled like vines down her lips and onto the floor. She also remembered empty honey jars on warm summer days, trapping wasps that dared to intrude on the season’s perfection. Sitting in a dense little bush by a bridge she envisioned the bugs wriggling through the crystal mire and tugging their little legs with imperceptible agony, and it didn’t bring a smile to her face. Instead, it granted her an idea. Bad men live under the cover of stealth and wit in the city, but when prizes and rewards abound, they flock. And just like honey on a hot day, Rosalie intended to trap all of them.

A sound snapped her reverie. She peered out of her little bush and pulled the sunglasses from her eyes. They were just a mask at this time of day, when the sun was clambering at the horizon and gasping its last breaths onto the world. Seeing no one, Rosalie stepped out of her hiding place. The invitation had said sunset, which was fast approaching. She would quickly absorb her surroundings, then enshroud herself in scrub.

The bridge was large, and the same red as dainty suburban houses. The howl of wind and the constant shiver of the cables distorted this image however, and left no familiarity behind. The vampire took a step forward onto the writhing structure and looked straight up. Clouds swirled ominously in the half-light, resembling fleet-footed emissaries that were ready for retreat. At the farthest point from the horizon, a star shone.

Rosalie had seen enough. She stepped off the great frame and grimaced as it chirped like a nightingale. Then she remembered that sound was her ally. In the loud, enclosed darkness, it would be simple to slit a man’s throat.

Iro felt lonely. No, he felt angry. No, he felt sad. No, he felt hate. No, not even hate, death...
Iro felt death...

His friend... Good friend... Died in his arms. His wounds wouldn't stop bleeding... There were too many of them...

He remembered his name... The letters seemed to force themselves into sound, into a whisper...
"Viratious."
He walked onto an old bridge in the dead of night. There was no moon, and no stars, it was impossible to see. Suddenly, a he heard a rustle in the bushes, and a force tugged inside of him to turn and look, even though he didn't want to.
He felt a familar, yet entirely new, need for a kill. He had never wanted to kill before, nor had he ever killed, but this feeling seemed as if it had been with him forever, deep inside.

A gasp clawed at Rose’s throat. With trepidation the vampire peered out of her den, at a boy. When the surprise subsided, Rosalie felt betrayed. This is a tournament for bloodthirsty, pernicious vagabonds! How can a child have entered? Where are all the wicked people?

A flash of green met her eyes. A sickening silhouette of emerald pallor pulled away from the boy, and turned towards the bush. For a millisecond, the vampire’s eyes stared into the façade. Thought struck like a knife and Rosalie dashed from the bush, onto the bridge that screamed a wretched scale as she spanned its length. She stopped at the end of the bridge, daring to turn around. The boy, eyes dark with clumps of tenebrous hair shielding them, stared at her. The bridge unheedingly continued its pained chorus while Rose tried to pull herself away, to run, to forget the failure of her endeavours.

But she couldn’t. In the boy’s eyes she saw no maliciousness or cruelty; she saw, plain and simple, an overwhelming need to kill. It worried her, but more than that it confused her. Should I kill him? He will hurt someone, but I know he’s not evil.

She couldn’t. His murder was senseless when there was the hope that he could be saved by other means. She decided to talk to him. The woman ran across the bridge again in a few seconds and stopped a few feet away from the boy. Up close she saw that he could be dangerous: some sort of weapon was veiled in a strip of black fabric, and she saw some sort of strange glove on his hand. With all intent on foretelling an attack, Rosalie began to speak.

“Hi there,” She bubbled, gripping her vile knife fiercely behind her back and grinning through the displeasure. “What’s a boy like you doing in the dark all alone? Where have your parents gone to? D’you want me to sit with you until an adult comes along?”

At these words, Iro felt no anger. The words however, didn't last long. Neither did his lack of anger. Iro's eyes flared up with rage, and he nearly shouted out his reply.

"I'm here to fight! Aren't you?! My parents are dead! My friends are dead! And soon, I should be dead, too! But I can't die, for I am death! Do you know the hell I have been through?! No! I don't want you to sit with me! I want you to fight me!"

Iro stepped forward and stabbed his staff at the person, but she dodged. He then outstretched his hand, open-palmed, and shot a blast of darkness at her.

Iro smiled. The power he felt, the power, simply from one spell. Iro had no idea that a spell could be this powerful. He laughed for a second, before hearing his spell explode. The woman was standing on a different side of him, and she had successfully dodged his blast. He stared at her with frightening intensity, and then...

Fear. He was scared, for he had just questioned himself with a question that could not be answered.

How do I know where she is?

This certainly complicates things, Rosalie thought as she flitted about the boy. She kept her rippling scarlet eyes focused on him, but allowed her thoughts to waver just a little. He can perform magic, has no home to go to and murderous intentions. I may have to kill him.

The vampire stopped moving for a second, and the boy swung his axe at her. She dodged swiftly and ran directly behind him. “Ah, so you know death,” she whispered menacingly in his ear. She breathed on his hair and let her cold metallic knife dance along his back. “But do you know pain? Torture? Terror?” Rose allowed herself a moment of weakness, and licked the boy’s pulsating neck. Then she stepped back. “I can feel the fear in you, circulating with every beat of that luscious heart.”

The boy turned around swiftly, with the tiniest bit of madness in his eyes. His green reflection lifted the axe and Rosalie dodged, too fast it seemed for the action never happened. He’s serious, she thought. That’s it. I’ll have to finish him. It will give me more energy for my stronger opponents anyway.

The vampire swiftly scanned around her: the wind still howled through the thick suspension cords of the bridge, and high above in the unforeseeable night she imagined the top of the leviathan structure. She glanced back at the boy who was now running at her with the axe swathed in night. He got closer and closer, at what she assumed was break-neck human speed, and she let him. Then, when the green flashed close in her eyes she darted to the right, down the bridge and up a screaming suspension cord. As she got higher the darkness engulfed her completely, and she imagined being enclosed in a tiny room. Slowly, willing the wind to keep on shrieking, Rosalie clambered back down until she could see her opponent. As she suspected, he was darting his eyes about, turning round and round.

For a second, Rosalie giggled inwardly. I’m like a bat in a cave, and I’m about to swoop!

"Gahh, where is she?!"
Iro felt the wet spot of his neck, confusingly. He knew that she was trying to confuse him, to weaken him, but he also knew that it was working. His neck tingled, and for a moment he seemed blind.
He wiped off the spit, and could see once more. He felt where she was, and he shot a blast of black at her. She dodged, and landed on the ground. He started walking towards her, and created a small spark so he could see her with his eyes.
"Say it." She said.
"Vampire." He whispered back.
He grabbed at her, but she dodged. So he swung around and kicked her, hitting her face completely and knocking her to the ground. He walked over to her, rose his staff, and jammed it into the ground.
He was just a little too late. She had rolled further away from him, got up, and stared directly at him. Iro took his staff out of the ground and pointed at her. By this point, he knew he was in for hell.