Post by Zou ۞ on Jan 30, 2013 23:07:23 GMT -5
The mouth on the specter opened up, showing more white teeth as the grin widened. It was creepy to be grinned at by something that had no other features than that mouth. It was ominous, to say the least. They'd not even discovered who or what this thing was which had offered to aid them. But it was regardless a part of their journey that they could not turn down. If it would help them defeat the Game Master, then by default they simply had to do it. The Game Master was a monster who had caused much agony and death, and was so strong at current that despite beginning to win the war, the Soul Society continued to face horrendous danger. And this was where the specter came in. Cold fire, he said, could help. And indeed, it could. Cold fire had given Zouma victory over a Captain Commander.
So why should it not work for these three against the Game Master? However, the specter had words of warning to them as well. "I could easily just take you guys straight to Hell with me to collect Zouma himself or his Zanpakuto. But realistically, you guys can't survive Hell. Thinking you could make it back out would just be hubris. Especially not that part of Hell. The one Zouma's been trapped in is the darkest pit from which no one ever escapes. So you'll be condemned for all eternity if I let you step into that domain. That's why I'm going to just give you his cold fire, if you can pass my little game. That's really what this is all about. I just want to play a game, and I'm willing to lend you some assistance if you can beat it!"
The area began to turn dark. A blackness was closing in on them all. It slowly engulfed the area, and soon all they could see was each other, the specter, and the blackness. When it lifted again, they were no longer where they had been before, but rather were in some sort of odd abyss. It was the bottom of said abyss, for overhead was only blackness, even though the place was sufficiently illuminated by an unknown source. What was most noteworthy was that across the flat wasteland which was the landscape, thousands of blades stuck out, impaled into the ground. They were in all different shapes and sizes. The specter's grin was still wide. If it had eyes, it would be obviously observing them.
"You guys got three objectives," the specter said. "You're putting away your weapons, and fighting each other with these swords. They're fragile, and will break after three encounters with one another or three hits to a body. Your goal here is to fight each other battle royale style. Not to the death. I don't want your lives to be taken by each other. But you may die. You've gotta survive. Your stamina will be heavily taxed with every exchange in which you fail to land a wound on your opponents. And yet, with every exchange that you throw just for the sake of yourself or your enemy, you will lose even more stamina. You'll be needing it, because I'm gonna release evil spirits to attack you while this happens..."
The specter snapped its fingers, and ghoulish, transparent white things with demonic and deformed faces, bodyless, plasma, began to materialize around the place and flow everywhere. "That brings us to your SECOND objective," the specter said. "Avoid those things. If one goes through you, you'll feel despair. This taxes your energy slowly. If you lose too much stamina and get hit by one of those, you are guaranteed to take your own life and die right there." This seemed thus far to be a very demonic game, but was it possible that there could be even more to it that would make it even more sinister? No, it was far more than just a possibility. It was a guarantee. Of course there would be more to it than that.
The specter quickly spun its right hand around, and light flashed to create a golden sword, a claymore. This, the specter jammed into the ground with a mighty thrust, and golden light radiated across the ground for a split second as this happened. There was a sizzling feeling of energy in that moment. It was a powerful weapon. "That there sword is off-limits. You can try to take it, but unless you're at your most dead bottom end, its energies will overcome you and you'll be incinerated. You've got to be exhausted even past your very deepest limits to get that thing. But if you get it, you can destroy all of the spirits, and also incapacitate the other two and win the game. Whoever wins the game gets the cold fire. And the losers? Well, I guess the losers will be contracted to owe me one favor one day in the future..."
So why should it not work for these three against the Game Master? However, the specter had words of warning to them as well. "I could easily just take you guys straight to Hell with me to collect Zouma himself or his Zanpakuto. But realistically, you guys can't survive Hell. Thinking you could make it back out would just be hubris. Especially not that part of Hell. The one Zouma's been trapped in is the darkest pit from which no one ever escapes. So you'll be condemned for all eternity if I let you step into that domain. That's why I'm going to just give you his cold fire, if you can pass my little game. That's really what this is all about. I just want to play a game, and I'm willing to lend you some assistance if you can beat it!"
The area began to turn dark. A blackness was closing in on them all. It slowly engulfed the area, and soon all they could see was each other, the specter, and the blackness. When it lifted again, they were no longer where they had been before, but rather were in some sort of odd abyss. It was the bottom of said abyss, for overhead was only blackness, even though the place was sufficiently illuminated by an unknown source. What was most noteworthy was that across the flat wasteland which was the landscape, thousands of blades stuck out, impaled into the ground. They were in all different shapes and sizes. The specter's grin was still wide. If it had eyes, it would be obviously observing them.
"You guys got three objectives," the specter said. "You're putting away your weapons, and fighting each other with these swords. They're fragile, and will break after three encounters with one another or three hits to a body. Your goal here is to fight each other battle royale style. Not to the death. I don't want your lives to be taken by each other. But you may die. You've gotta survive. Your stamina will be heavily taxed with every exchange in which you fail to land a wound on your opponents. And yet, with every exchange that you throw just for the sake of yourself or your enemy, you will lose even more stamina. You'll be needing it, because I'm gonna release evil spirits to attack you while this happens..."
The specter snapped its fingers, and ghoulish, transparent white things with demonic and deformed faces, bodyless, plasma, began to materialize around the place and flow everywhere. "That brings us to your SECOND objective," the specter said. "Avoid those things. If one goes through you, you'll feel despair. This taxes your energy slowly. If you lose too much stamina and get hit by one of those, you are guaranteed to take your own life and die right there." This seemed thus far to be a very demonic game, but was it possible that there could be even more to it that would make it even more sinister? No, it was far more than just a possibility. It was a guarantee. Of course there would be more to it than that.
The specter quickly spun its right hand around, and light flashed to create a golden sword, a claymore. This, the specter jammed into the ground with a mighty thrust, and golden light radiated across the ground for a split second as this happened. There was a sizzling feeling of energy in that moment. It was a powerful weapon. "That there sword is off-limits. You can try to take it, but unless you're at your most dead bottom end, its energies will overcome you and you'll be incinerated. You've got to be exhausted even past your very deepest limits to get that thing. But if you get it, you can destroy all of the spirits, and also incapacitate the other two and win the game. Whoever wins the game gets the cold fire. And the losers? Well, I guess the losers will be contracted to owe me one favor one day in the future..."