Cyan>Bern:
One scarlet flash.
One person, standing.
Then slowly falling.
The horrible river of gore.
The spectacle that no one would ever forget.
---
"And that is why you <i>never</i> touch my hair." Bernadette stated simply, as she tossed Durandal back up to a confused Eliwood in the second row of the stands.
Eliwood's jaw dropped. He'd never seen her take it.
What was left of Cyan was unrecognizable.
Of course, stealing someone else's weapon-let alone one you can't wield, at least in theory-and using it to slaughter your opponent is indeed highly illegal.
But even as an accident, you don't stab a woman's hair.
You may get a bad cut yourself.
Lady>>>>>Malik
Malik had no chance.
Lady's assault was brutal.
And then things got worse.
---
"...go on, finish me!" Malik muttered.
Crushed to the ground by a force of pure Malice, Malik's hopes were all crushed with him. He had no chance left to win.
"...Nah." Killer called out from the stands.
Lady smiled slightly.
"...what?" Malik mumbled.
"We agreed on this before. Lady kinda hates your guts. Like, really. Way the hell too creepy for her. So we agreed on this thing beforehand. She's kinda not good with words, so she had me do the talking. It's like an intervention, except I get to insult you the entire time." Killer said, with a shrug.
"So, let's start on the whole Oedipal complex and exactly why and how it's creepy. We'll get to the horrific monstrosity, egomaniacality and overall personality after." He finished.
---
Well, it had somewhat of an effect.
Ultimately, there was nothing illegal about someone taunting your opponent from the stands, let alone in a situation where you could probably be declared the winner if you asked, anyways.
And ultimately, Malik did indeed end up regretting his ways.
Mostly because several dozen people killed him in the weeks to follow. Evidently he'd slipped under the radar to some Duellers, who were rather revolted by Killer's list of Malik's personality flaws.
But did it do Malik much good?
Well, maybe acceptance that you have the flaws is something.
He was recently seen getting a beer with Emelious and Kuja.
Melfice>Luca:
"And then I killed them all! Whole damn village of the worthless rats!" Luca boasted, as he probed Meflice's defenses.
"Hah, generic, nameless, faceless rats? You haven't lived until you've stabbed a woman you've known straight through the heart, while feeling the raw, surging power of darkness run through your veins!" Melfice laughed, as he feinted.
"...Huh. That does sound pretty good." Luca noted, frowning.
"...and yeah, I really could go for a village slaughtering right now. Never got to do that, worthless brother kept tailing me around." Melfice muttered.
---
"...Well, Luca just puked on the bartender and passed out. Can we count <i>that</i> as a win for Melfice?" Ellen half-sputtered in disgust, as she swirled a glass of wine. "I swear, judging matches where the idiots decide to go get drunk instead of fighting..." She shook her head.
"Don't look at me, you were the one that kept saying Melfice taking off his shirt and yelling 'WOOOOOO!' wasn't enough to disqualify him." Terra said, sighing. "Those bastards have to have planned to step out of the arena at the same time, it just doesn't make any sense any way else. Anyways, fine, sure, Melfice wins, whatever, let's get out of here before Melfice tries to hit on us."
Deamoned>Lezard:
"I am Deamoned." Deamoned intoned.
---
<i>*Twenty-eight hours ago.*</i>
"Wait, you will?" Lezard asked, stunned.
He'd never expected his opponent would <i>agree</i> to face his full power. Those foolish judges had always called it a plot power. Crystals were too good. Foolish.
"Oh, certainly. After all, it's only fair. But on one condition. There's a certain something I've always wanted to try." Deamoned smiled, a frightening sight on his scarred face. "A certain...thing I wish to borrow from another dueller."
"Certainly, certainly, whatever you wish." Lezard chuckled inwardly. The fool couldn't possibly find anything even remotely legal to use anywhere that could defeat him. No equipment, no spell this fool could use, could possibly beat him!
---
"The sword that smites stalkers!" Deamoned roared, as his massive mecha blasted towards Lezard Valeth.
"...right...not ranked...people..." Lezard mumbled, staring upwards at Thrudgelmir's five-story-long blade, just before it bisected both him and his crystal simultaniously.
Fou-Lu, staring from the judges box, shook his head.
"I'd said it before they even started it, but I shalt say it again. This is silly. Even by this place's standards." He added simply.
Gijimu>Milon:
Milon was to be feared.
He'd spent his time campaigning and plotting and sneaking.
And by god, he'd finally done it.
He'd managed to get a new form.
A stronger, more dangerous form, one that would make him the terror of...well, not Godlike. He didn't have that much to bribe with. But it was a step in the right direction. One out of Light!
And what had Gijimu been doing?
Some foolish training regimine involving hitting candles! Hah! Candles! Ridiculous.
Milon would finally take his place as the leader of the League!
---
Gijimu stood proud before Milon's new wrath.
The only words out of his mouth were simple.
"Hydro Storm."
It turned out that Gijimu had managed to replace his axe with a better subweapon.
Certainly, it wasn't legal, at all. Gijimu himself had specifically used it several minutes before the match started. He was careful about not being disqualified. It was simply too good not to try, however.
But Milon, depressed, threw the rematch.
After that much effort, getting crushed by a rainstorm was just too much.
At last sighting, Milon was seen eating six quarts of Rocky Road.
Tia>Anri
A simple match.
One person needed to kill in one hit.
The other needed to not be killed in that hit.
There was nothing that could be done. It would happen, or it wouldn't.
Or was there?
---
"..." Anri, beet red, attempted to cast Freeze 4 again.
Successfully hitting four squares away from Tia.
"...at least...cover yourself with your hands or something!" Anri sputtered, and got a face-full of whip for her pains.
"...sigh. The things a girl will do to not get mocked." Tia noted, as she looked down at her not-concealing-enough Seethru Cape.
Certainly, it was an effective strategy. A prude like Anri couldn't possibly concentrate like that.
But at what cost?
Like Sten groping you?
Well, just because they haven't been as active lately doesn't mean perverts don't still exist in the league, after all.
By the time Tia realized that it was, in fact, not worth it, it was far too late. But hey, a win is a win.
