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Post by kyuubi25 on Jan 4, 2013 11:40:24 GMT -8
Location: Undernet Main Posts: 1 Intro, 5 Battle (unless judge assigns more) Matched at: V1 Version Bonus: Off Judgement Type: Single (UFA)
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Post by Deleted on Jan 4, 2013 22:35:48 GMT -8
[bgcolor=232323]
A lone navi walked through the Undernet, with a peculiar weapon (Yeah, I really don't know what it's called) in hand.
No darkness was too strong to keep him out. No fear was too powerful to deter him.
No.
Nothing would stop this navi in his courageous quest.
" dot-dot-dot"
In his "epic" silence, he stopped walking and stood there, waiting.
For who?
Who knows...
Amongst a crowd of Purple HeelNavis in the most populated sector of the Undernet -- a shopping district of sorts, full of busy concessions and small merchant stands, all of which emitted the same dark purple aura of the area itself -- the lone Navi stood.
Arms crossed. Eyes closed. Head tilted down. That's how the cool cats posed, and his posture was no different.
Many a Heel Navi would bump into him and insult his intelligence, but his stance never changed, nor even budged for that matter.
No.
Like a statue he remained. Waiting for his scheduled appointment.
[Intro]
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Post by kyuubi25 on Jan 4, 2013 22:56:42 GMT -8
As the other navi stood in the crowd of heel navis, a gentle breeze opened an aisle of sorts. Standing back to back with the first was another, one wearing rags and bandages, with little to nothing to say. Silence was his sound. The wind was his steed, and the sands were his to control. Even though these two navis have not the power of legends, this, was to be a battle for the ages.
Sandstorm knew better than to hold back during a time like this, he was certain that his opponent did as well. He would wait, wait for the other to slip up. Sandstorm would be the one to set the rhythm for this fight. It was all just a matter of time.
"..."
Sandstorm would probably fit in here, with his appearance. He cared not for the dealings that went on in these parts though.
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Post by Deleted on Jan 5, 2013 12:04:30 GMT -8
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Oblivious to the Navi standing back to back with him, Strike continued to hold his pose -- though the tapping of his foot conveyed the shortening of his patience as he waited.
The crowd was noisy and dense. The sound of people talking, laughing and yelling incomprehensible gibberish was almost loud enough to blot out the sound of the bumping of shoulders and the impact of everybody's foot and the ground with every step they took. The noise was thick -- it felt as though cotton balls were stuffed in the ears of those who simply stood there and listened -- so much so that the sound of the busy square was enough to invade one's own mental voice as they thought quietly to themselves.
" ... Is it always this noisy?[/size]"[/b][/color]
As the words left Strike's mouth, all activity in the area came to a complete halt.
Navis had stopped walking mid-step. All conversations were instantly dropped. And the sound of a pen dropped would be equivalent to the blow of a trumpet in the stillness that now overtook the square.
Despite the fact he had mumbled that rhetorical question, it echoed through the crowd like it had been spoken through a megaphone.
With a sound akin to a thousand books being shut at once, every Navi in the area simultaneously spun their heads toward Strike. Their blank faces, combined with the multitude of glowing orange eyes from every Heel Navi in the Undernet, was enough to make any average navi wet their pants several times over.
" ..."
There was still no sound. Not a voice nor any noise was heard. Even the net-crickets were smart enough not to chirp during this disturbing, fear-filled silence.
" ..."
" ..."
Well, this certainly had answered Strike's question.... sort of.
" ..."
After what felt like an eternity, though in reality was only about three full seconds, a small voice could be heard from the back of the crowd -- high-pitched and childish in nature, almost sounding like a regular navi high on helium.
" Is that Strike?!"
" ... yes."
Another silence came, but this time a slight shaking could be heard, as if the ground was beginning to quake a little.
The Heel Navis turned their attention away from Strike and back to each other -- perplexity covering their faces as they continued to look back and forth while the quaking only became stronger.
" W-What's... going on?!"
" I-Is it an Earthquake?!"
No. Not an earthquake. A stampede.
" STRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIKE!!!!!! "
The quaking of the ground was uncontrollable as the screeches of Strike's name grew louder and louder.
Breaking through the multitude of Heel Navis was a much larger multitude of Strike's Fan Base. Like a wave of the ocean washing over a wall of sand, the fans poured in through the ranks of Heel Navis in their desperate quest to get to Strike.
Some of the Heel Naivs standing nearby were actually fans in disguise -- they broke free of their Heel Navi-Costumes and joined the influx of fans as the wave of myriad navis reached them. Some of the other Heel Navis -- the actual Heel Navis -- were brought up into the air and crowd-surfed slowly to safety as the multitude had finally come in arms-length of Strike, prepared to launch him above their heads as well in a glorious crowd-surf of glamorous popularity.
" WE LOVE YOUU!!!!"
" SIGN MY SHIRT!!"
" SIGN MY SOUL!!!"
" I'M SINGLE!"
The fans themselves were quite... strange beings.
They all looked the same -- regardless of sex -- and had an almost childish design. Large, poofy, bright green hair, base-ball sized crossed eyes (with quarter-sized black pupils), and nigh-duck-faced lips between air-inflated cheeks. Their height was about 3/4ths of a regular Navi, and their skin tone was an almost sickening dark green, providing a surprising contrast with their bright green shirts, shorts, and shoes.
As previously noted, their voices were awkwardly high-pitched, much akin to an average person's vocal reaction to helium.
The stampeding of the crowd was a force to be reckoned with -- much more harsh then the shoulder-bumping of the Heel Navis -- and if Sandstorm wasn't either moderately tough or moderately evasive, that stampeding crowd would bury him alive from the dust gathered under the feet of Strike's multitude of fans.
Regardless of the stampeding damage done, though, Sandstorm would find himself standing on the heads of the fan-base as well, being crowd-surfed over the ocean of cheering navis, positioned a few yards away from Strike.
The fans underfoot were sturdy footholds, so Sandstorm could walk around unrestricted, as if he were standing on solid ground -- or more specifically, as if he were standing on grass.
" So, what brings you out heeere..."
The tone of Strike's voice as he said the last word implied that the sentence was incomplete -- also implying that he was asking for Sandstorm's name as a response to his unfinished question.
[Battle 1/5]
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Post by kyuubi25 on Jan 5, 2013 12:27:04 GMT -8
Sandstorm suddenly found himself standing atop the heads of other navis. As he was asked of his purpose for being here, he brought out the visualization device.
The screen disappeared, then sandstorm rushed Strike. He punched him in the face, with all his strength, then followed with a kick to the torso, with equal power behind it. Sandstorm ten made a sort of whistling noise, at which point a candle-like virus appeared on the side of a building, firing off a tan flame at Strike. Finally, he used an attack that was his namesake. He called upon the sands of the net-dessert, causing a sandstorm to appear out of nowhere. This would likely reduce visibility for those that were not used to it by now.
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Post by Deleted on Jan 7, 2013 22:44:14 GMT -8
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" Oh! You've heard of me?! Well, I mean, I am pretty popul--"
Distracted by the fact that somebody actually knew who he was (without him ever having met him), and excited at the fact, Strike went on to rant about himself in a prideful manner -- that is, until the movement of his mouth was interrupted by Sandstorm's fist.
A loud pop echoed from Strike's open jaw, and his eyes were wide opened in shock of the sudden blow. The audience beneath their feet gasped in awe after having seen their 'superior' so easily pushed around.
" H-Hey! What kind of a-- OOF!"
In trying to start another conversation, Strike was caught off-gaurd yet again by Sandstorm's attack -- this time a knee to the gut, sending him face-up on the ground. Once more, the audience gasped in horror, some even began to cry. Their tears were massive, though -- the size of golf balls -- and instead of streaming down the face, these tears shot out like a sprinkler, capable of dealing quite a bit of pain should they actually hit something.
And they actually did hit something, much to Strike's relief.
A hidden virus had been secretly spawned by Sandstorm's whistle, unbeknownst to Strike. As it fired its ball of sandy-firey stuff, the tears of the fans intercepted it (almost seeming to home in on the shot), saving Strike from more pain.
As he noticed what had happened, he'd sprung back to his feet and began bowing to the audience -- much like how a magician would bow after successfully executing his magic trick. At the sight of his well being, the crowd began to cheer and clap again, almost as if they had forgotten that he'd ever been hit by Sandstorm to begin with.
" Ha-HA! You'll have to do better than THAT if you--"
Yet again, Strike's monologue was interrupted by one of Sandstorm's Attacks. Luckily, this one wouldn't leave any aches and pains on his face (or torso), like the other blows.
And the sandstorm blew through the area, essentially blinding Strike and his fans, the crowd grew silent (save for the screaming winds) so that they could listen to what was going on (considering they couldn't see or anything). Incidentally, Strike's weapon had been lying on the ground somewhere underneath the audience's feet, so there was really no relying on that at this point.
" Oh! I'm good at this game!"
By the sounds of it, Strike wasn't interesting in fighting at all. Or perhaps he was just trying to make Sandstorm believe that, so that he'd command the storm to go away. Nobody could really predict what he was up to, at this point.
" MARCO!!!"
Sandstorm most likely wouldn't respond to that -- but it didn't matter.
He was still standing on Strike's Fans, so every step he took would be met with a vicious, beast-like, jaw-hinging, chomping bite at his ankle, much in the style of how a bear-trap would close on its victim's foot. It was obviously an attempt to make him scream so that he would give away his position to the still-blinded Strike. And if they successfully locked their jaw on his foot, they most certainly wouldn't let go until Strike was able to land a hit.
Sandstorm could just delete these fans -- but there was a multitude of them. Not only would it take an indefinitely long amount of time, but it would create enough noise for Strike to locate him behind his sand-screen.
Strike wasn't lying when he said he was good at Marco-Polo.
[Battle 2/5]
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Post by kyuubi25 on Jan 8, 2013 9:44:36 GMT -8
Sandstorm would scream if he had a voice, if he were bitten by a fan. However, because of his composition, this was not an issue. Since he was made of sand, the storm only enhanced his combat ability in this situation. Then, he hear it, his chance to strike.
"Marco!"
As soon as he heard that, he knew where his opponent was. All of a sudden, the flying sands converged on that point. The virus, having been carried by the sands, fired down from above, and Sandstorm, since he had been hiding in the crowd all this time, moved to the spot almost directly under Strike, and punched upwards, with all his strength.
"..."
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Post by Deleted on Jan 8, 2013 11:22:39 GMT -8
[bgcolor=232323]
"WHOAAAA[/i][/size]AAAAAAAAAAAA!!!" *CRASH*[/b][/color]
Seemingly out of nowhere Strike had found himself launched skyward from some powerful force beneath him. Much to his benefit, though, he was sent on a straight collision-course for the virus that had been shooting at him this entire time -- none of who's attacks really found their mark since Strike was launched from his previous position (and because of the sandstorm and all).
" Ohhh, hi there little buddy! Wanna do me a huge favor?"
Leaving no room for an answer, Strike positioned himself directly above the virus (and tried to hold himself there) as they made their decent, intending for the candevil-thing to take the brunt of the impact when they collided with the ground, and providing Strike with a rather warm cushion to land on.
" *GASP*!! I'M STANDING NEXT TO STRIKE!!!"
Back in the crowd, the fans standing next to Sandstorm (as it was a shoulder-to-shoulder tight space) had mistaken him for their idol. Those not in arms length of him were quite jealous. Incidentally, Strike's weapon happened to be next to Sandstorm's foot, which a fan picked up and raised high into the air, as if it were some sort of trophy.
" HE GAVE ME A SOUVENIR!!"
" WHAT?! I WANT ONE!!!"[/b]
" LET ME HAVE YOUR SHOES!!"
" LET ME HAVE YOUR ARM!!!
All at once, the fans began dog-piling "Strike" (Sandstorm), trying to rip some sort of 'souvenir' from him -- be it a limb or not, they didn't care. Their desperation blinded them more than the sand, which had at this point piled up to about ankle-height.
They weren't the most gentle-type to anyone not standing on their heads.[/color]
[Battle: 3/5]
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Post by kyuubi25 on Jan 8, 2013 12:19:34 GMT -8
"..."
Sandstorm disbursed himself, getting clear of the so called fans.
what kind of fan attacks their idol?
In any event, Sandstorm needed only look skyward to see what was happening. With a flick of his forefingef, he liberated Strike's weapon fromthe fan that was holding onto it. He had not the time to say anything to the virus, so he just thought it.
I'm sorry, my friend.
He launched himself into the sky. The weapon, which I assume is a sword, in his hands. As soon as he was within striking distance of the pair, he swung, intending to hit them both.
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Post by Deleted on Jan 8, 2013 20:18:40 GMT -8
[bgcolor=232323]
((In my first post, I said I didn't know what the weapon is called. I know what a Sword is! xD
But no, it's the weapon Strike's holding in my sig. Kind of like a 3-Headed spear, with each head 90o apart from the next. Details. It's still swingable/sliceable))
" A.... Ah... ACHOO!!!"
This sand was starting to get to Strike's nose, and due to his immense amount of luck, the rearing-back motion of his head as he sneezed was just enough to evade the decapitation that would've otherwise come to him by his own weapon. Sadly, the same could not be said for the warm Virus-cushion that Strike was previously sitting on -- nothing more than a blob of lifeless data, at this point.
Fortunately, the fans' poofy hair provided all the cushioning Strike needed as he landed from his great fall.
" So that's where my weapon-thingy went. Dirty thief[/sub][/size]"[/color]
At this point, Strike was getting hungry.
All of this strife and violence would need to end shortly, otherwise he'd end up dying of starvation.
" It's time..."
The fans shook off the sand that had nearly buried them from the still-raging storm -- throwing away whatever false-souvenirs they managed to swindle off of Sandstorm and looking to the direction Strike's voice had come in with curiosity in their eyes.
" Time for what?!"
" ... TO KISS YER BUTT GOOD-BYE!!!"
A taunt, aimed at Sandstorm, of course -- not his fans.
Strike brought both hands to the side of his body, connected at the wrist with palms and fingers spread out as if he were impersonating a jaw-opened crocodile with them. The crowd began to go wild -- hooting and hollering, some jumping and clapping, in excitement of what was to come. The noise of the crowd was deafening to hear -- like standing in the middle of a cheering football stadium, Sandstorm would scarcely be able to hear anything going on by the time he landed from his previous attack.
" ZERMERGERRRRD!!!! IT'S HIS URLTIMURT ATTAAAAAAAAAAACK!!!!"
Every Navi had one of those nowadays, it seemed. Strike was supposedly no different.
If there wasn't a blinding sandstorm in the area, there might have instead been a blinding light emanating from Strike's palms as he began chanting the name of his attack -- although it was sort of impossible to tell, with the sand still blowing and whatnot.
" KAAAAAAMMMEEEEEEEEE©!!!!!"[/b][/color]
The crowd was absolutely losing its mind, now. Head-banging into each other's heads, flailing their arms like raging flames, and stomping their feet powerfully enough to shake the entire area -- they were quite thrilled for what came next, despite the fact that Strike had still not made an attack yet.
Rather, he just continued to stand there, wrists-connected, and eyes shut (as it'd be pointless to have them open at this point), wearing the same crazy grin he always wore.
(Battle: 4/5)
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Post by kyuubi25 on Jan 8, 2013 20:34:38 GMT -8
Sandstorm saw what was going on. He shook his head in disbelief.
This is too easy.
Sandstorm put all his might into his arms as he threw the weapon at it's owner.
dodge this!
If that didn't settle things, Sandstorm still had a couple of tricks up his sleeve.
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Post by Deleted on Jan 8, 2013 22:55:54 GMT -8
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(("Sandstorm saw what was going on" ... But I thought he was blinded by the storm too?! XDDD [or at least your 3rd post made me believe that]))
" YEAH!!! GO STRI-- AGH!!"
While most of the fans had been jumping up and down, one of the more passionate ones jumped higher than the rest.
For ages, it had been her dream to reach higher than the other fans -- to shine brighter than the rest of them, just to get Strike's attention. Today, she was determined, more than ever before, that this would be the day her dreams had finally come true. The golden opportunity was now before her as Strike prepared to unleash his attack.
"HAAAMEEEE"
While the other fans bounced up and down in excitement, she believed in doing more than that. It wasn't enough just to jump -- she had to go beyond. Crouching down into a small ball, "charging-up" her jump as it were, she put all of her love, her anger, and all of her sorrow into one grand leap of faith -- believing that her cheer would ring the loudest among all Strike's fans and provide him with the support he needed to emerge victorious from this battle.
Her bound was so powerful that she managed to rise a whopping body-length off the ground -- only to be struck through the abdomen by the weapon Sandstorm had thrown.
Her body -- still impaled with the weapon -- was sent flying in it's trajectory and tumbling through the heads of the fans, landing face up just a foot to the left of Strike. With a tear, her body slowly dissipated into the sands of the storm. Her life-long dream had been fulfilled: to support Strike to the death of herself -- to give her life as his humble, number one fan.
Strike wasn't too concerned with the sacrifice, though -- after all, these dopplegangers were all just summonable dummies from him. So she'd be resummoned, sometime later, along with the rest of the fans here.
"HA[/b][/i]™!!!"[/color]
Strike's voice echoed throughout the now-silent area -- not a fan peeped. They all wanted to hear the sound of this glorious shabang.
He thrust both hands forward -- leaning back from the massive amount of power had expended by unleashing his attack -- gritting his teeth from the sheer amount of pain he'd sustained, just by unleashing the attack.
" ..."
... But nothing happened, sans the ridiculous pose Strike had found himself in.
He seemed to believe otherwise, of course -- treating this battle as if it were over, he grabbed the weapon from where the carcass of the die-hard (or... die-easy) fan-girl had previously laid, and began walking away from the crowd.
" Well. My job here is done."
Strangely enough, Strike never actually used this weapon. He simply carried it around, because he thought it looked cool.
" Time to go eat!"
As Strike walked away, his fans remained in place.
Their eyes were still shut tight, teeth and fists clenched, knees bent, and ears open wide as they continued waiting for the climactic conclusion to the battle.
And it actually came.
Their imagination was so vivid and powerful, that it had actually caused Strike's attack to happen! A shinning , white laser erupted from each fan, shooting upward from their bodies into the sky and completely erasing the fan it had burst forth from.
While an individual laser was hardly as painful as a scratch, the accumulative self-destructions of every fan in the area (an uncountable multitude) was quite a powerful force -- enough to have instantly deleted Strike, had he not been a safe distance away from the explosion by now.
[Battle: 5/5]
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Post by kyuubi25 on Jan 9, 2013 20:24:54 GMT -8
((read my second battle post one more time.))
Sandstorm would have been deleted by this attack, were it not for the techniques that he hadn't the chance to use earlier. He created an extremely durable shield around himself, which disappeared after said attack.
[fool.]
With his opponent's back turned, Sandstorm found his chance to strike. He gathered all the sands in the area, and formed them into an array of concentric spear spheres arund Strike. He could finish it here and now, but instead, he would wait. For what? Who knows? But when the time comes, we all will.
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Post by Snakeskin on Feb 2, 2013 18:26:50 GMT -8
Style: Both of the intro posts were really pretty good. Sen's in particular seemed to be a very noticeable improvement over a lot of his other stuff. That said, as the battle wore on, Rem seemed to keep up the effort more consistently. His posts were more involved, entertaining, and showed a greater attention to detail in avoiding things like typos and run-on sentences (something which I noticed a few times in Sen's posts). Frankly, it just seemed like he was trying harder - and it paid off. That said I do appreciate attempts at creative phrasing both combatants used - but neither of you gave me any real "ooooh" moments - and sometimes Strike's posts felt like they were trying a bit TOO hard to be lulzy, to their own detriment. Still a decent showing at worst.
Strike: 26 / 30 Sandstorm: 21 / 30
Articulation: Rem takes this category pretty handily. There's a lot more going on in his posts, so he has a lot more to describe. Sen makes attempts that are definitely noticeable and welcome, but they're fewer and further between.
Strike: 18 / 20 Sandstorm: 14 / 20
Balance: This is a toughie since both characters have some pretty bizarre abilities. The normal checkboxes are all clear on both sides though; I didn't see any godmodding, overly-restrictive phrasing or the like, and both of the fighters took hits. Strike certainly took more; but that's partially a character trait because he's a walking self-parody. Sandstorm took some attacks in a way that made it as though he may as well not have, but this is mostly understandable from a character perspective. Neither character actually seemed to really kick it into high gear the way I thought they would outside of their final posts, and of course Sandstorm's ended on a cliffhanger (though that was actually an interesting and respectable decision). I'm pretty much at a loss as to what to do here. I'll just give both a B.
Strike: 16 / 20 Sandstorm: 16 / 20
Length: An easy win for Remnant. His posts were much more substantial and usually didn't go overboard either. They fit in the essentials and some fun extra stuff. Sen's never felt so short they cut out important information or became hard to understand, but they did feel pretty underwhelming in comparison. He seems like a very stoic character, which is fine, but there's still plenty of opportunity there for some additional content.
Strike: 8 / 10 Sandstorm: 6 / 10
Emotion: The two characters are polar opposites; a living joke of an egomaniac and a stoic, all-business warrior. I was disappointed to see this contrast wasn't played with as much as I really would have liked - there was some really solid potential there. But still, they both came across fine for what they were. Rem gets bonus points for including the emotion of his little fan-minions as well, especially that one particularly ambitious lady...
Strike: 8 / 10 Sandstorm: 6 / 10
Judge Points: An average of previous scores.
Strike: 8 / 10 Sandstorm: 7 / 10
Final Scores: Strike: 84 / 100 (A Rank) Sandstorm: 70 / 100 (B Rank)
Strike is the winner despite barely even fighting!
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