The 2005 Monstrous Dramatist Dukeout

[Shathward]

[OOC]

 

Do you all remember the old Jousting Tourney from the Archmage Bulletin Boards and how cool it was?

 

Do you all remember the Archmage Royal Rumbles and how great they were?

 

D'you want 'em back? D'YOU WANT 'EM BAAAACK?

 

*cough*

 

Well, that's not what I'm bringing back. No, ma'am. No, sir. This is going to be a bit different.

 

 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

 

Before I say anything, I shall make one thing clear.

 

Everyone is welcome to join.

 

To briefly describe what the Dramatist Dukeout is, I guess you could say it works along the same principles as the Royal Rumble. You create a character, and either challenge someone or await a challenge, and once you have an adversary, you engage in one-on-one competition.

 

However. That is less than half of what is to come. There are a few twists.

 

First of all, you don't fight with swords, spells, or any of that normal Royal Rumble carnage. You fight with words. Poetry, drama, monologue, dance, song, storyweaving, rap, just about any performing art form you can imagine! Your character will battle with literary prowess in turns.

 

Of course, just standing around and talking gets old after a while, so you can punctuate your verses with sword blows or magical explosions. A fun example of a good character might be an eight-legged, sword-brandishing spider-centaur who spontaneously breaks out into rhyming monologue.

 

Now for the final twist, which brings the Monstrous part of the title into play! All characters participating in the Monstrous Dramatist Dukeout must have five or more appendages, and tails do not count. This pretty much ensures your character isn't of a humanoid form or race, but rather something of a monster!

(Hey hey, be creative. Nothing says your character needs to be a mammal, or even an animal. It could be a talking fungi. It could be a mournfully singing patch of flowers. Let your imaginations run wild.)

 

Let the games begin!

 

[/OOC]

 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

 

 

As patient Time looked on, endless numbers of mortals entered life, and endless numbers of mortals left it. Drowsy with its immortality, sluggish in its vast power, Time slumbered on and continued to dream. It saw all the divinities locked in their futile struggles, quests, and games of power. They all sought greater quantities of that which Time possessed in such vast amounts: power and life. They schemed, formed alliances, betrayed, and betrayed again right under its nose, and underneath their little games, the mortals did exactly what their gods did. They, too, played those futile games of power. Time merely watched, and dreamed.

 

In a corner of the multiverse, an intelligence stirred. It took the form of an elven woman, dressed in folds of white cloth that glowed with just a little too much subtle beauty to be of mortal creation, who paced a floor while gently running her fingers across a little harp clasped lovingly to her breast. She whispered gentle nothings into the air, and they melted away into what mortal songweavers called muses. After what seemed like an eternity, she smiled and looked up slightly.

 

War, my sister, you have come! How lovely.

 

Of course, Muse. I always look forward to our little chats.

 

In front of the elven woman in white stood another elven woman, but she was completely different. War was dressed in luxuriant, silken folds of dark red, and at her side hung what looked to be a plain sword sheathed in leather. Muse's hair was a soft, whitish blonde, but War had a head of disheveled black hair. She also had a much more wild, warlike expression, true to her name.

 

It's just that I had an idea, sister. I know we've been at odds for such a long time. I want us to be sisters again, and why not bring us back together by working on a joint project?

 

War allowed a look of vague interest sweep through her face. She shook her hair back, drew her sword, and casually inspected her weapon for wear and tear.

 

A project? You mean I get to kill people and you'll make songs about it?

 

Close, close. Why not make a world where mortals can fight and make war all they want, but where an attack must be accompanied by a bit of the performing arts? It'll be lovely! Imagine the poetry that will be inspired by the violence!

 

War's expression drooped slightly, as she did not share Muse's enthusiasm for the arts, but she had to admit the idea was interesting. She smiled happily at the thought of a world devoted to unlimited carnage.

 

Sounds good to me. Can't wait to see the blood spill. I also suggest that we have non-human fighting here. It's much more interesting. Mortals can be cunning, though, and they might try to break the rules by killing without performing.

 

Oh, don't worry, I'll weave into the fabric of the world itself.

 

 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

 

 

As the sun rose on the new world, two figures stood against the light and looked over their work. This world was covered with forests, rivers, lakes, mountains, plains, fields of lava and stone, marshes, deserts, and every other variety of terrain imaginable. Muse sighed with delight at all the beautiful terrain, especially the lush and verdant forests; it was just too beautiful for words! War also looked happily at all the thick vegetation; imagine how beautiful it would be once they all burned in the flames of war! Each happy with the result but with different thoughts on why it was a success, War and Muse left this world with a snap.

 

"Mmm, to start things off ... "

 

Before leaving, War snapped her fingers at a little red ant scurrying out of sight into a boulder. The little ant was caught in mid-crawl, and began to glow. It steadily grew larger until it broke open the boulder, and when everything was done, it was six feet long. The head broke off and burst into flame, burning away into ashes. From the open spot where the head used to be, what looked like the head, arms, and top half of the torso of a hairless human with black reptilian skin sprouted forth and merged with the rest of the ant. The newly transformed ant looked much like a centaur-ant which was a mix of a human with black reptilian skin and burning red eyes and a gigantic fireant. The stinger of the ant spurted and sparked with fire, and each red ant leg now ended in a human forearm and hand of the same red color.

 

Charion the Performing Ant was born.

 

He reared, searing the ground with his stinger fire, and with a ferocious expression on his face, he summoned forth his greatest weapons. Amidst blinding light, a masterly crafted shortspear with a big blade covered in powerful runes and glyphs dropped into his right hand. The broad, sword-like blade was about 2 feet long, with a 3-foot wooden handle. And into his left hand dropped a most fearsome weapon indeed. He dropped that fearsome weapon of legendary might, the LYRE, into his second pair of hands, and began to jump around, plucking madly on the lyre's strings while brandishing his spear.

 

"Is it just me, or is it time to SING?!"

 

 

OOC: Remember, your character needs five or more appendages, and all attacks must be punctuated with some sort of performance of literary prowess by your character. Let the carnage begin! Come on and introduce a character of your own!

(Some basic guidelines. Do not godmode, for the sake of preserving the fun. Use more or less proper spelling/grammar/punctuation/capitalization, for the sake of the reader. Just use common sense and we'll all be merry!)

Edited March 27, 2005 by Shathward

[Wyvern]

Charion the Performing Ant raised his feelers in the air in the middle of a personal rendition of "Old Ant Mary," his lyre's vibrations slowly coming to a stand-still as a dark shadow enveloped the area surrounding him. The Ant's feelers twitched in circles for a moment, only to twist into a knot of shock as they observed the collosal figure looming before them.

 

The monstrosity was huge, standing the size of a sturdy thirty-story building and boasting an enormous full-plated advertisement billboard as a suite of armor. The billboard flashed the words "Buy Almost Dragonic Brand Crusty Booze-Flavored Toothpaste™" in an horrendous amalgam of neon pink, deep blue, and turqois green, enough to send any lesser-mortal into epileptic seizures. From the monster's thighs jutted two enormous boomboxes, which promptly began playing a cheap rendition of the menacing horn melodies found in Godzilla movies... complete with the occasional token shriek of "Godzirrra!" Fastened to the creatures legs were millions of abandoned tax forms, their countless numbers producing an aura of fear amongst the indebted. Two enormous Almost Dragonic Brand Jumbo Giant Pens™ crowned the enormous monster-machine's head, inkless yet menacing in their bravado-inducing splendor. Attached to the beasts knee caps were monstrous erasers, which occasionally sent out a gust of eraser dust whenever a breeze hit. The gigantic machine's maw was filled with millions of sharp quills for teeth, along with a huge musical tuning fork for a tongue. In one lead-knuckled fist the monster held a whale-sized paintbrush, while in the other he carried a gigantic cement rendition of the Codex of the Mighty Pen. On the beast's metallic left buttox was painted a scantily clad version of Sister Muse, while on the right was an equally tantalizing rendition of Sister War... the two acting as a perfect mooning distraction device for last-resort fleeing. Most disturbing was the machine's facial design, which bore strikingly ugly features reminscent of a certain overgrown lizard...

 

"Totally... a... Dragon."

 

The gargantuan machines voice boomed out at uncontrolable volumes, flat and machinical. Slowly, it lifted one sharpened-pencil-toed foot to move forward.

 

"Totally... a..."

 

The enormous monster tripped over a tiny sapling tree, snapping a pencil and tumbling downwards. It crashed with a loud grinding of metal, collapsing into a million pieces as soon as it hit the ground.

 

;-)

[Shathward]

Charion stopped for a moment. He stared at the newcomer, and took in all the features of what looked to be a golem created by someone with a sick level of creativity. His glance especially lingered on the boomboxes. Slowly, a wide grin split across his face. This was the most bizarre personage yet, and it made him happy.

 

"Oh yes. It is most definitely time to SIIIIIING! Get back up and join with me in dance and song, brother!"

 

Tossing the newcomer some bongo drums, Charion plucked madly at his lyre and drew out a very fast, jolly tune while jumping around in circles around the hulking monstrosity. Every once in a while, his stinger spurted flames out of excitement.

 

 

Ah, I used to feel so neglected

Dropped by my dear old mommy WAAAAR

*random shout* Oh DRAT that mother of mine!

In this big-ass place so uninhabited

I even thought of calling her a WHOOORE

*random shout* I'm such a naughty boy!

 

But now I have a brand new SPANKIN' friend

With an ass so much bigger than this place

*random shout* And I like what's on his ass indeed!

I hope the fun never SPANKIN' ends

Maybe with dear Auntie Muse's GRAAAACE!

*random shout* HEY HO!!

 

 

In his intense excitement and musical ecstasy, before he realized what he was doing, he accidently made a big swipe at his fallen partner with his spear with a great cry of "OOPS! Look out, brother!"

 

[Cerulean]

Glossalot quietened overhead like a thought bubble. Glossa disassociated frenulum and lapped ocelot under and within. Now was not the time for catspiteclawflashy. No, it would settle, observe and assess.

 

Draping one hanging participle around a branch for balance, it caterpillared papillae forwards, hooking a question mark fore and aft for further purchase. Its rubbery sucker-cups chivvied and puckered, until the creature oscillated rhythmically on the very tip of a leaf shoot. Stringing alphabetical missiles like pearls, it forked extremities to attention, licked cat-internal, conjugated a battle-cry and waited.

Edited March 29, 2005 by Cerulean