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Post by The First Inhabitant on Dec 15, 2012 23:28:12 GMT -6
The Inhabitants waited ever so patiently for the unconscious nations to stir. They were almost identical in shape, voice and form, so it would be impossible for the nations to distinguish them apart. That wasn't of importance though. The least thing the countries could be worrying about right now was whether they were in the presence of the First or the Second Inhabitant. Eventually, they grew impatient and with a wave of a skeletal hand, the so called immortals were plucked from the depths of unconsciousness. At this time, the Inhabitant slowly waited a few moments for the confusion to set in. The Inhabitants had in fact gone out and knocked the nations out before bringing them to this room, which they nicknamed 'The Gallows' for this very occasion. It was a plain, broadly sized space with no windows, furniture, or any source of weaponry. No, the nations were dragged in as they had been previously, meaning the only thing they had for combat was what they had on hand. Unfortunate for some, but incredibly in favour for others. Though, weapons wouldn't be the deciding factor in these games. “Awaken,” the Inhabitant boomed as the nations were sluggish to stir. It probably didn't help that they were bound by twine and had ragged gags stuffed in their mouths. The Inhabitant could detect the struggle, the possible panic that ailed them before the Death Reaper was certain that it had the nation's attention. The darkness hid the Dead Man from sight, but it's hollow, icy presence was enough to guide the country's eyes and ears in its general direction. “Congratulations...” the Inhabitant began, its voice chilled with venom, malice and the slightest touch of childish amusement. “You have been chosen to partake in a little game. Now I beseech you to listen well because I will not repeat myself nor will I answer questions,” explained the levitating skeleton. It did not wait for any signs of response, because it was more than aware of the gag that stopped the nations from human speech. “It is noteworthy that you have survived this long, but it is likely that your luck will end here. Again, you will participate in a delightful matchup of ours. The rules are simple, little nation. You must either kill, or be killed.” The Inhabitant paused simply for dramatic effect. On the other side of the room, the other nation would be receiving the same speech from the other Reaper. “There is a catch though. You will not be facing a monster...” the skeleton said softly, its face pulling into a hidden sneer. With a snap of its bony fingers, the rope that held the nations in check disappeared, as did the gag. “...You will be fighting another nation.”The words hung in the air as the Manor's Servant watched the individual move. It grinned wickedly, eager to continue pressing the grave news down the nation's throat. “There's more. Someone must die here. It is not negotiable. If you refuse to kill the other and they mirror your choice... well, look downward.”Below their feet, what seemed like solid floor was in fact a mere wire grating. Base the iron mesh were eyes. Yellow, red, white, but they all shared something in common. Hunger, thirst, desire. A low moaning sounded on cue from one of the vile creatures while another clawed anxiously at the grates that held it in check. The Inhabitant wasn't sure, but it swore it could feel a touch of anxiety from the 'immortal' that stood before it. The Inhabitant let the nation have a moment to process what it was implying before it finally continued, ignoring if it had actually said anything. “In case I was not clear, if neither of you will fight, you will be torn apart by these beasts. Don't think you can survive them either; there are more savage creatures below than you could possibly count, even in your extended lifetime. So I will emphasize one last time, kill or be killed. Good luck, Turkey/Netherlands.” And with those parting words, both Inhabitants disappeared into the air as the light above flickered onto full power. Light blasted the darkness from every inch of the room, save for the cages below that grumbled and growled in response to the stimulus. Brown, stained wood-panels covered all four walls while the ceiling held what looked like a crystal chandelier that dangled a good 15 feet from the floor. Below, the creatures could be seen churned about as they stalked the shadows that the nations created. And now, let the games begin. ___________________________ (In case this was not clear, each nation received the exact same speech [there are two inhabitants]. Someone must die in this game; this is not an option. The posting order is Turkey ---> Netherlands. You have 2[/u] weeks to make the starting post or we will assume you have no intentions of fighting, hence you will be killed off. This is to ensure people will not feign inactivity in order to not complete this event. After the first post, we expect you to post at least every two weeks UNLESS your posting partner will agree to wait longer. Good luck. AS WELL, since Sweden, the original person in this event became inactive, I will not be putting up with inactivity in this thread any further.)
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Untouchable
Offline.
Your head will collapse, but there's nothing in it and you'll ask yourself: Where is my mind?
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Post by Finland (x) on Jan 8, 2013 8:52:09 GMT -6
( Due to a request, Sweden has been swapped out in favour of Netherlands for this Match-Up so Turkey can still participate. The thread begins now and I would strongly recommend that you post as soon as possible to avoid any further problems with inactivity )
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Sadiq Adnan
Administrator
Bisexual.
30.
Played by Silv.
Offline.
We can only survive here, never truely live
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Post by Turkey on Jan 8, 2013 21:55:33 GMT -6
Asleep. Why was he asleep? Not that he didn’t enjoy the chance to actually rest for once, but why was he asleep. There was something he was supposed to be doing, some reason he shouldn’t trust sleeping right now, but what was it? The fog of sleep over the Turkish nation was thick; and battling his own way out from under its heavy, suffocating cover was nearly impossible for the Nation. His body felt numb; did he even still have a body? Was he floating in a mass of darkness just as a soul, having been killed without memory of it? Images went through his head, dreaming. Dreams of the brat and of Japan, Egypt and his brother TRNC filled his head. They were searching, ever searching. What were they searching for? Were they searching for him? Walking over to the Greek man, Sadiq tried to get the males attention but to no avail, he wouldn’t look at him. Frowning, he raised his fist as if to punch the brat, but was stopped… everything was vanishing around him and the heavy, repressive feeling disappeared around him.
“Awaken”
Instantly, Sadik’s eyes opened as if a switch had ben flipped on. His brown eyes scanned around to see if he could tell who put him in this situation. Where was he? He had to be alive for the cold to be sinking into his body the way it was. Trying to move, he realized he was bound where he was; no better than a common animal, bound in a way he hadn’t been since he had been taken prisoner during the Spanish Armada. This time was different though, he didn’t recognize the voice that called him out from the darkness. He should be thankful for the voice waking him up, ask it for helping getting out of this mess…but he held back. His instincts were warning him that this speaker meant trouble and would slit his throat before ever helping him. Looking around again, his eyes gravitated to the…..thing that was in front of him. The thing that was nothing but animated bones….some type of necromantic work. It was something straight out of a nightmare.
“Congratulations”
What was he being congratulated on? Such a word generally indicated something good had happened to him, and as far as Sadiq knew, this place had only been hell on them all, nothing to be congratulated for…unless he had passed whatever sorry ass test they might have been pulling, measuring the Nations against whatever scale they had to see who was “worthy” in their eyes. He hated people like that, the holier than thou ones that only approved of you if you were like them….he didn’t want to pass this test, he wanted to fail. There was no way he wanted to be compared to the monsters in this place, even if he had called the Nations monsters earlier.
“You have been chosen to partake in a little game.”
He wanted to reply sarcastically, ask if they were going to play something like the American game of Barbie’s or have a cute tea party with a pink tea set while everyone put on a frilly dress like he had seen in movies, but he was gagged. Just as well, he probably would have been sent off into the game without knowing what he was supposed to do. Instead of speaking, he glared, his rich chocolate eye sharp with all the rage he was feeling, and all of it directed towards the floating skeleton in front of him.
“It is noteworthy that you have survived here this long but is it likely that your luck will end here.”
Survival was right, they could only survive here. This party that was supposed to be fun, a chance for the Nations to interact and form closer bonds, and it had turned into their worst nightmares. They had all been returned to their fighting and survival instincts of decades, even centuries past. Even himself, who had been focused on peace, had been finding his own violent tendencies coming back to him. To attack first and ask questions later.
“The rules are simple; you must either kill or be killed.”
Kill or be killed huh? Bring it on; he would take out any monster they threw at him. He would tear him them apart and show whoever was running this freak show that you didn’t mess with the Ottoman….The Republic of Turkey and live to tell the tale. He would take down any monster they threw at him.
“There is a catch though. You will not be facing a monster.” If he wasn’t facing monster, what would he be fighting to the death? Some animal pulled from the vast property that the Manor rested on? “…You will be fighting another Nation.”
Oh….oh. So that was their plan. Bloodshed. One nation forced to take another Nations life like the Roman Gladiators of past. Moving his hands and legs so he could sit up once the gag and ropes disappeared, he put his hands together, trying to rub some feeling back into them. As the circulation was restored, they took on a reddish tint, puling a memory to the forefront of his mind. A memory he tried to forget, but one he never would. The memory was foggy at first due to it being ages ago, almost a life time, but it quickly came into focus.
Blood. The first thing he saw upon opening his eyes was the blood slowly soaking the stone floors as it crept farther and farther away from the body. He moved his eyes slowly, following the path the blood had taken back to the beauty that was growing paler by the minute. There was a smile on her face and her eyes were open, clouded over with death. It had been a few minutes since the last breath had exited her body, but he couldn’t leave. He had caused this. Kneeling down next to her, he gathered her in his arms and held her. Sadiq didn’t care that he was getting Mama Greece’s blood over his robe, blood was the last thing on his mind. He had “killed” nations in the past, but they always revived…this time was different. Mama Greece was gone forever. The woman he admired for her strength and cunning; intelligence and bravery. His shoulders shook with repressed tears that he refused to shed at this moment. Placing a kiss on her forehead, he gently lowered her back down and closed her eyes. As his hands came into view, he saw red. They were covered with blood. His black gloves were stained with blood. He could take off the gloves and replace them, but it wouldn’t change the fact. His hands would always be stained with blood.
Shaking his head, he brought himself out of his memories and wiped his hands on the sides of his pants to get rid of the traces of the memory. No, he wouldn’t do it, he couldn’t do it. Glaring harshly, he was determined that if he could just get his hands on this floating skeleton, he would strangle it, snap its boney neck into two pieces and be done with it. The Spector kept right on talking, ignoring the deadly glare that was being delivered to him. And to Sadiq’s horror, the next piece of information about these games stopped his heart cold.
There's more. Someone must die here. It is not negotiable. If you refuse to kill the other and they mirror your choice... well, look downward.
Looking downward, he felt his heart jump once in fear of the creatures before stopping again. The floor he thought was solid, cold cement was actually an iron mesh. And below the iron mesh, thousands upon thousands of eyes stared at him. Eyes of every color imaginable, the namable and the unnamed ones. He was only a potential meal to them, he knew it. One moan set a chill down his back; a cold icy finger of death trailed down his neck, a feeling he had felt once before. He watched as one clawed the grates, trying to get to him, but couldn’t, at least not yet….He couldn’t die here, not yet. But he didn’t want to kill either.
“In case I was not clear, if neither of you will fight, you will be torn apart by these beasts. Don't think you can survive them either; there are more savage creatures below than you could possibly count, even in your extended lifetime. So I will emphasize one last time, kill or be killed. Good luck, Turkey.”
As the Spector vanished from in front of him, the lights turned on and blinded him. Blinking his eyes, to get the spots out of his vision. It seems he didn’t have a choice; he would have to go along with this ridiculous plan and fight for his life. He hoped the nation he was fighting wasn’t one he was close to… that would make it so much easier on his conscious. He had to put his values behind him, stop thinking that every nation had someone they cared for, was a brother or sister, and would be missed if they died. He had to shut it all out. Once his eyes finally adjusted to the new light, he looked around. It was a regular looking room, wood panels and a high ceiling with a crystal chandelier.
“Heh, looks like a room for a party, not a slaughter. Shame that these walls might soon be covered in blood. It’s such a nice room too.”
He had stalled enough; he needed to see who he was facing. His heart pounded against his ribcage as he turned to the other side of the room to see who he would be…who his… the person stuck in this situation with him. His eyes widened and he wished he had his mask. Netherlands. While Sadiq didn’t like Lars very much, he never wanted to kill him. He didn’t want him dead. Could he bring himself to kill him?
“Lars. Fuck. Why did it have to be you?”
Shaking his head, he walked to the side, observing the other from head to foot. “Never told you, but you look good in that outfit. You make the perfect wolf in sheep’s clothing. Do you agree to their terms? A fight to the death? Of forever having blood on your hands?”
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Post by dutchsushi on Jan 10, 2013 18:28:55 GMT -6
“Awaken.”
It's the first thing Lars Van Dyke hears as his eyes begin to flutter open, ash blond lashes sticking to his cheeks as he resists the urge to do so. His head is pounding and throbbing all at once, and amidst the sea of confusion ... the voice gets lost. Further and further away from his memory waves until it becomes a distant command.
“Congratulations...” Congratulations ? For what ? What did Lars do in the past twenty minutes that deserved any praise except apparently fall asleep. Maybe it's a congratulations for making his eyes stay open for longer than a span of .09 seconds. Yeah, of course, that had to be it.
“You have been chosen to partake in a little game. Now I beseech you to listen well because I will not repeat myself nor will I answer questions,” A game ? Like monopoly ? Because Lars was really good at monopoly. Although Emma would argue he took the game too seriously, fake money or not it was still currency and it's a game that involved skill... and cunning and if Lars could say so himself he definitely had an abundance of both, so whatever game this was had to be a synch.
“It is noteworthy that you have survived this long, but it is likely that your luck will end here." Oh. End. What an ugly word. End always implied well ... without implication, the finish of things good or bad. Things were never supposed to end, they were supposed to change.. Atleast in the Dutchman's perspective. Lars' chapped lips parted in response, heavy eyes finally letting off some weight as they open ever so slowly. Golden eyes exposed to the darkness of a windowless room and his body stiffens already.
"Again, you will participate in a delightful matchup of ours. The rules are simple, little nation. You must either kill, or be killed.”
Games in the ... manor were never fun. This seemed like the kind of place that would hang a person upside down and slash and hack until there was nothing left. Just to laugh and do it again. He turns his head and starts to sit up,his back cracking rather loudly from being so stiff for so long. Why was he knocked out ? Now that he thought about it. Either way, it didn't matter. His eyebrows narrow a little.
Lars was frankly sick of everything the manor had to offer, every monster, every illusion, everything that cracked his psyche more than world wars themselves. Whatever was happening, he could take it. He knew he could. For the sake of protecting his baby sister and his depleting sanity. So he did grumble to himself as he started to stand.
“There is a catch though. You will not be facing a monster.”
"Face my ass you fucking -"
“…You will be fighting another Nation.”
"..."
Lars only raised an eyebrow as he stood to full height. All he did was roll his eyes like a bratty teenager. Nations fighting other nations was nothing new, and he refuses the urge to scoff.
There's more. Someone must die here. It is not negotiable. If you refuse to kill the other and they mirror your choice... well, look downward.
"... W-What."
The color began to run from Lars' already pale face, lips parted in disbelief as a his heart sinks to his stomach and sits heavy against his ribcage. He was a liar. He had to be. Lars knew the capabilities of the manor, and impending trepidation that shook his core, but this. The monsters that circle beneath his boots are gruesome, and he can see their muzzles coated in old flesh and thick blood. Their teeth stained and worst of all, the rib cages that protruded out of the sides of the beasts ... showing gripping hunger.
“In case I was not clear, if neither of you will fight, you will be torn apart by these beasts. Don't think you can survive them either; there are more savage creatures below than you could possibly count, even in your extended lifetime. So I will emphasize one last time, kill or be killed. Good luck, Holland.”
The ash blond swallows a lump in his throat as he takes a step back, his breath picking up its pace as his heart feels like its about to leap out of his chest. Automatically, he peers around for the apparent escape route that doesn't exist. He isn't stupid. If the Inhabitant somehow managed to get them in, then there's a way out. A way that isn't through the digestion system of a hungry beast.
Automatically, Lars begins to think about his sister. What's she thinking right now. What's she doing and who she's fighting ... if she's fighting anybody. He feels like he's about to throw up, and all of his rising indignation builds in his core and he turns narrowed, golden eyes toward the grinning Spector. With gritted teeth he steps toward it in full stride, ready to somehow ring it for answers.
"You son of a bitch, i'll --"
The spector vanishes and light returns to the room in a rather blinding manner. Lars is left standing there as dumbfounded as the day Germania left him to become a self sustaining nation. And that was centuries ago. He grits his teeth together behind pursed lips as his hands ball into fists. A wrinkle forming at the bridge of his nose as he takes in his surroundings. He feels like he's in a hotel room, a familiar hotel room.
“Lars."
The Dutchman's eyebrows raise as the familiar voice and recognizable tenor reaches his ears. He slowly turns on his heel, facing Sadik Adnan ... who's currently wearing the same expression as Lars is sure he's making as well.
Fuck. Why did it have to be you?”
His lips part to answer, but nothing comes out. As if his mind is jumbled and he's completely forgotten the English language.
"Turkije." He murmurs in quiet Dutch, now turning to face the Turk completely. Only a few feet apart.
“Never told you, but you look good in that outfit. You make the perfect wolf in sheep’s clothing.
"Aren't you a charmer." He seeths at the other nation, feeling scrutinized when the Turk eyed him up and down.
"Do you agree to their terms? A fight to the death? Of forever having blood on your hands?”
He couldn't be serious. Was Sadik considering this ?
"Fuck no. I'm nobody's play thing. I'm not a game for a washed up prop from a shitty horror flick. There's a way out." Lars steps away from him and starts looking around the room.
"You can help me find it or stand there and look pretty. And if you get within four feet of me, i'll consider feeding you to the dogs, cretin."
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Sadiq Adnan
Administrator
Bisexual.
30.
Played by Silv.
Offline.
We can only survive here, never truely live
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Post by Turkey on Jan 10, 2013 23:14:40 GMT -6
"Do you agree to their terms? A fight to the death? Of forever having blood on your hands?”
Sadiq waited for the response. He hoped Lars agreed. It would make thing so much easier in the long run, lessen the amount of blood he would have to stain his hands with. If Lars agreed, it would be a binding contract between the both of them. A contract of Death and Destruction. It works the same way in his head with Lars to. It gave him permission to kill him…if he could. He had seen the claws the man carried, and they looked sharp, sharp enough to take him out if they got within a striking radius of him.
"Fuck no. I'm nobody's play thing. I'm not a game for a washed up prop from a shitty horror flick. There's a way out."
All Sadiq could do was to stand there and shake his head. The poor man didn’t realize, couldn’t realize how real this was. Sadiq had seen one of the horrors of this place and knew this was no joke, there was no way out. They would never provide a way out until one of them was dead and the blood was used to feed the monsters below their feet; monsters that even now he could hear making noises of hunger and impatience. He wondered how long they had until whatever power ran this place got tired of them standing around, not causing the bloodshed it wanted, and dropped them to the monsters below.
"I'm sorry Lars. I'm sorry."
He really was. This was an awful situation and Lars deserved to know he was sorry it came to this between them. He never wanted this.
"You can help me find it or stand there and look pretty. And if you get within four feet of me, i'll consider feeding you to the dogs, cretin."
“You don’t get it you ignorant fool. This is a horror story, and a well-played one at that. You don’t know this house. I’ve seen a monster, beheaded it after in tried to claw my organs out. They want us to kill each other and it won’t take no for an answer you incompetent bastard. It wants blood and we’re supposed to do it. You want to get out of here to see your sister again, you need to kill me. That’s the only way, not looking across the walls for a hidden exit that doesn’t exist. Now Mr. High Strung Stoner Business man of a tulip thieving Nation, you gonna enter into the contract with me and make it easier on both of us, become the willing monsters of this house?”
During this entire speech, he had been slowly stepping closer and closer to Lars, trying to keep his face hard and not show how much he hated this whole thing, but he knew he was unsuccessful. He didn’t want to kill Lars, it wasn’t in his nature anymore. It was more of the nature of his former self. He had to do this, had to for at least one of their survival. He would become the willing monster once again and either take Lars’ life or force Lars to take his. He could only hope his words of provocation worked. With a deep breath in and out, he closed his eyes and let himself relax.
Opening his eyes again, they narrowed into small slits. He was only a few feet away from the man and reached for his sword with his right hand, pulling it free of it's blood stained scabbard. “If that’s how you’re going to be, then this is going to be easy. I never would have pegged you for a fucking coward.”
With that last taunt said, he lunged at the blonde, sword raised to kill.
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Post by dutchsushi on Feb 10, 2013 23:09:47 GMT -6
Gloved palms glided against the bleak hotel wall in search for a switch, a dent, a scratch, anything that indicated a method of escape. Thus far, the threading beneath heavy boots were not budging, which gave Lars not only time, but chance. Though determination was depleting, with or without Sadik's help the ash blond was completely set on finding a way out. Did it make him a coward ? Maybe. It just made him smarter, in his opinion.
Golden eyes winced and squinted, persistently searching to no avail, and the Dutchman finds himself sucking his teeth in pure frustration. His shoulders are tense, back rigid, chapped lips pursed and brows furrowed indignantly. There has to be a way. There has to be.
"I'm sorry Lars. I'm sorry."
"Ja, if you're so sorry then stop standing there like a mule and do something." The Dutchman mocks the other, even though it doesn't ease the situation in the slightest. But at a time like this, what the hell could Sadik possibly be apologizing for ? Besides the fact that he's being completely useless.
“You don’t get it you ignorant fool."
"What are you on about now Turk--"
" This is a horror story, and a well-played one at that. You don’t know this house. I’ve seen a monster, beheaded it after in tried to claw my organs out. They want us to kill each other and it won’t take no for an answer you incompetent bastard. It wants blood and we’re supposed to do it. You want to get out of here to see your sister again, you need to kill me. That’s the only way, not looking across the walls for a hidden exit that doesn’t exist. "
The ash blond winced at the inevitable truth that hit him like a brick and made his heart sink heavy in his stomach. It's weight was enough to crush him, but instead he swallows a lump of nervousness in his throat, his adams apple moving along with it. If it were possible to look heartbroken and pissed at the same time, Lars was sure he must appear to be that way. He remained quiet, what was he to say ? It was the truth.
"Now Mr. High Strung Stoner Business man of a tulip thieving Nation, you gonna enter into the contract with me and make it easier on both of us, become the willing monsters of this house?”
Just for the record, he resented being called a thief. But that's an argument for another time.
"You know what ..." During the entire speech Lars still had his back facing the other male, though his search for an exit had impecably come to a halt he had pressed his forehead against the wall and kept his fists in a tight ball.
“If that’s how you’re going to be, then this is going to be easy. I never would have pegged you for a fucking coward.”
"You know what, Sadik. You ever stop to think that you're the fucking cowa--" The ash blond finally turned on his heel with hate and anger swimming through his being, feeling his heart burn hot with fire. Still, sunlit orbs widened and the emotion of rage disappeared as soon as it came. His skin paled and lips parted, at a loss of words as he sees Sadik's strong grip wrapped around the handle of his scabbard.
His legs apart, shoulders stiff, slanted eyes, the typical fighting stance, most notorious the predator.
"You're not ... you're serious." Lars' teeth grit behind his lips, creases forming on his brow and nostrils flaring like a wild bull. His fake canines showed as he growled at the other man.
"Sadik, you idiot. Don't play into their ruse for ..." As the other came to him with the scabbard, Lars immediately side stepped him. As angry as he was, he didn't want to die, nor did he want to kill. Not today. But he wasn't stupid to not assume this would end bloody.
"for fucks sake... I never knew ... but now I do." Just then, Lars could swear he heard the creatures below him growl and cackle in excitement at the show above them.
"You're nothing."
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Sadiq Adnan
Administrator
Bisexual.
30.
Played by Silv.
Offline.
We can only survive here, never truely live
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Post by Turkey on Feb 18, 2013 5:28:14 GMT -6
Sadiq watched Netherlands dodge his attack just as he hopped he would. If he had actually had killed Lars in the first attack it would have been too fast and boring. Draw the fight out, make it enjoyable for both parties and then, only then when he got bored with it, he would bring this game to a close and…and with a metal shake of his head, he grinned at the Blonde Nation. His thinking had slipped into the dark patterns it had previous tread all those decades ago. Back into the world of where fighting was fun and he enjoyed watching his enemies gain injury after injury; trying to hurt him back just as much as he hurt them. It had amused him then, and apparently it was amusing him now. If this was the frame of mind he needed to be in to be into to do this, that’s what he would do.
Closing his eyes for a second, he let himself go. He released the gates he had on all of the pent up aggression and anger this place made him feel, had caused him to feel with various situations. He could feel the bloodlust coursing through his system, the anger, the rage, and he could feel his mind shift into a planning mode, trying to map out possible attacks and counterattacks. He could be reasonable when trying to get what he wanted through various means that weren’t acceptable by today’s standards, but not here. Not in this death match. There would be no negotiating; only fighting until blood painted the floors and fed the creatures under them. Opening his eyes after only a few seconds, he smirked and let out an amused, dark chuckle.
"You're not ... you're serious."
“I’m plenty serious Lars, when have I ever been different during a fight?”
Hearing his own words, he could hear his accent had slipped again. He usually tried to watch how thick it was, tried to keep it light to be easily understandable, but now it wasn’t. It was thick and, dare he say, darker than before. It was a voice he recognized. Not a trace of his good humor could be heard, just the dark amusement he felt at this situation. One would live while the other died. Blood forever stained on the killers hands, never to be removed by ordinary means, forever seen in the mind’s eye.
“Nao, fight me~ Unless you don’t want to see your lovey sister. She really is quite beautiful you know. I bet she looks up to you as the older brother. Are you afraid I’ll tell her you’re afraid of a little blood?”
Turning to completely face his opponent, Sadiq brought his sword up and nicked his own cheek with it. Not a flash of pain registered on his face with that action. A drop of that crimson liquid adhered to the point of the sword as he brought it down to his lips and licked it off slowly, a grin present on his face the whole time. He ignored the slow moving trail of blood that rolled down his cheek, shining bright on his darker skin, reflecting the bright light that came from the chandelier. It would fall eventually and either be the first blood stain on his clothes from this fight, or it would fall to the monsters and be the appetizer to their approaching meal. Pointing his sword back to the floor and shifting his grip on the hilt, he cocked his head to the side and narrowed those chocolate brown eyes of his at the words that left Lars’s mouth.
"You're nothing."
How was he nothing? The very thought that the Ottoman Empire was nothing amused him even more. He would show Lars just how much of a nothing he was. In the end, nothing could beat Lars, and nothing would.
“You are so amusing Lars, I should hire you as jester. Enough of this talking and stalling, we fight to the death. I’ll remember to put flowers on your grave. Tulips, just for you.”
Moving his sword in a circle pattern, flexing his arm to make sure the muscles were stretched and wouldn’t cramp at the wrong time, he bent his legs and put both hands on the hilt to give it more push as he lunged at the man. This stroke was meant to injure and not kill. The fight had changed in his mind. No longer was the point to try and survive the fight and exit the room; now it was about the fight itself and to enjoy the adrenaline flowing thought his veins. It had become a contest of strength and wit, and he never turned down a challenge. Only the winner would walk out alive, and it would be him.
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Post by The Second Inhabitant on Apr 9, 2013 19:10:02 GMT -6
Due to inactivity and the opening up of Netherlands, Turkey is the winner of the Death Match.
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