07-03-2017, 10:07 PM
The Sage stared at the blue bubblegum warrior through bruised and battered eyes. All the scholarly questions that would have normally assaulted his brain were scattered like birds before the indignation that burned through him like a laser.
“Awful? You think this game awful?” The Sage’s body ached all over, but his self-righteous rage refused to be seated. Unsteadily he rose to his feet, planting his dueling cane to keep his balance.
“I have watched a youth torn to shreds by a beast for the amusement of madmen, seen firsthand the barely functional heroes upon which this world’s future depends. In the pursuit of what? Glory? A trophy to display proudly as you drink in a tavern? This is precisely the event you were promised, and yet now, after countless deaths, you say to me that this game should be resolved through jovial amiability?” he spit a glob of inky blood out of his mouth, his vision swaying slightly as his anger spent what little adrenaline reserves remained after his fight in the colosseum. The poor girl looked utterly exhausted, the Spirits only knew what her week here in Karl's personal circus had included. Still, the Sage was hard pressed to feel any sense of pity for one who willingly signed up for a death match.
“You say this gruesome spectacle of a game must end.” he was no longer shouting, now speaking with only a stern murmur of contempt, “In that respect, I very much agree.”
A swirling sphere was fished from a pocket, it’s colors shimmering as it arced through the intervening air. Almost at once, a void of whiteness enveloped the two of them. The Majin tensed, guessing where the Sage’s ranting was headed.
“However, you will get the end that this event dictates. The end that you agreed to when you put your name on Karl Jak’s paper. This world we live in, the one our own hands have wrought, is written in blood. If you wish to triumph here your victory must be written in the same.”
“Awful? You think this game awful?” The Sage’s body ached all over, but his self-righteous rage refused to be seated. Unsteadily he rose to his feet, planting his dueling cane to keep his balance.
“I have watched a youth torn to shreds by a beast for the amusement of madmen, seen firsthand the barely functional heroes upon which this world’s future depends. In the pursuit of what? Glory? A trophy to display proudly as you drink in a tavern? This is precisely the event you were promised, and yet now, after countless deaths, you say to me that this game should be resolved through jovial amiability?” he spit a glob of inky blood out of his mouth, his vision swaying slightly as his anger spent what little adrenaline reserves remained after his fight in the colosseum. The poor girl looked utterly exhausted, the Spirits only knew what her week here in Karl's personal circus had included. Still, the Sage was hard pressed to feel any sense of pity for one who willingly signed up for a death match.
“You say this gruesome spectacle of a game must end.” he was no longer shouting, now speaking with only a stern murmur of contempt, “In that respect, I very much agree.”
A swirling sphere was fished from a pocket, it’s colors shimmering as it arced through the intervening air. Almost at once, a void of whiteness enveloped the two of them. The Majin tensed, guessing where the Sage’s ranting was headed.
“However, you will get the end that this event dictates. The end that you agreed to when you put your name on Karl Jak’s paper. This world we live in, the one our own hands have wrought, is written in blood. If you wish to triumph here your victory must be written in the same.”
Quote:Sage accepts FW’s challenge, using an ISO verse to prevent outside interference.
1 SP spent for regeneration (2/5 SP remaining)
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