Those Heaven or Hell Staff Members Wrote:
Essentially, what you have here, is your typical Gaian News Radio station. However, instead of actually bitching about people's fighting abilities and listening to people b***h about other people's fighting abilities, they decided to watch the carnage live, and broadcast it from the next room while watching it through protective glass.
Terrain
General - A round room with a table and some chairs in the middle. Protective glass separates you and your opponent from the other room where spectators gather to watch the carnage.
Natural Element Resource - Lots and lots of sound amplification going on.
Weapons - Chairs, the tables, broadcasting equipment such as microphones, computers, and the cords attaching it all.
Bonus Effects - Every thing that is said is heard publicly.
Terran vs Roen
HoH season 11. Source: valucre.net static Gaia dump.
Table of contents
Code: waiting 4 my opponant 2 shw up its going 2 b fun wish me luck xoxo @ fans
So said RoentheAmazing in his Tweet.
Bitches loved Tweets.
Terran walked with some haste through the Gaian News Radio station. People nodded to him, a few folks cheered the name 'Asgard', a few calling out 'Jormungandr'. Those who did got a winning smile from the gargantuan as he pressed on. He didn't stop. He couldn't. It was time for a fight, and with one of Griff's old rivals, no less. Time to go.
He didn't tweet. Partly because he didn't bother with such business. But mostly because his hands are too damn big to manipulate a phone.
Opening the door, Terran rounded the bend. A sparse crowd supported Asgard, being a newish team this year, but he nodded to those who were there for him. "Mister Roen, sir." He said with a nod, smiling broadly. He was excited. He was ready. And notably, he was ******** big.
"Something tells me I should have chosen a bigger room," the Devil jested in the wake of Terran's entrance, putting his phone away. Flashing the giant an obligatory smile, Roen reached for the wire-wrapped hilt of Hræðilegr and dragged it off the table, arm and wrist jostling the weapon in his hand to test the blade's weight. "So," he began while looking the creature over. "You're my opponent. Joy." With dry sarcasm in his voice, the Devil looked away to the straps on his shield, cuirass, and combat boots with an appraising eye, finally casting an over-the-shoulder glance at his tail, and noting the blade attached to the spaded-tip. Everything seemed to be in order.
"I don't suppose you'll just give up and walk back out that door, would you?" He asked with entreaty in his voice, looking back up at his opponent. "Just try to imagine all the pain you'll save yourself." The obligatory smile lessened into a frown, eyebrows furrowing and lips pursing mildly as moments passed. "No, I don't think you will at that." Sucking his teeth, the Devil rolled his shoulders and glanced about, noting the distances to the walls and the varying objects that served as obstacles and the like to them. Tight quarters with a behemoth, just Roen's luck.
Tightening his holds on the bar of his shield and the hilt of his sword, Roen stepped back and maneuvered his body around the center table, putting it between he and Terran. And as he did this, he began channeling his awe inspiring dark power through the length of his weapon, preparing to cast off a spell. "Come on, neighbor."
1/10
Terran smiled, rolling his knuckles and stretching his fingers, his neck shifting and shaking out the cricks. His was not a boxed smile, like Roen's. His was perfectly sincere. "With all due respect, friend." He began to make sure his equipment, sparse as it was, was all tightly secured. "After all, with Griff gone, someone had to represent Jormungandr. Or should I say, Team Asgard. But I do gotta ask." He said a bit louder now, more for the radio than Roen, picking up a chair to match Roen's sword. "Why'd you pick an arena where they'd get to hear you cry?"
As he stopped talking, lowered his body a bit lower, twisting his chair about to toss it like a javelin. It wasn't meant to be some amazing attack, but it was a great attack to throw out into the water to get the situation started. He kept low, and didn't throw himself forward, but he did take a short adjust to the right.
1/10
"Because," the Devil whispered in response. "I thought you would be shorter." Then Terran threw a chair, and the game was on. Lacking the speed and dexterity to properly dodge the projectile, Roen instead raised his shield and braced his legs, ducking behind his defensive measure to take the full brunt of the blow. It was a worthy one, prompting the Devil to stagger but nonetheless hold his ground.
And as the chair clattered against the table set before him and eventually slide down and onto the floor, Roen lowered his shield to see over the rim and raised his sword in tandem, pointing its tapered tip at the creature's chest and releasing a Fireball spell after a brief moment to prescribe an exact distance in which the spell would detonate -- a foot in front of the member of Asgard.
A glowing, marble-sized bead flew across and over the table at Terran, cutting a direct path through the air unless otherwise impeded to explode in a shower of flames before the creature. The concussive force was minimal, but the resulting spray would cover everything within ten feet of the explosion in fire.
During its journey, Roen did not waste time in seeing what Terran would do, if anything. Knowing full well he was within the range of his own spell, the Devil raised his shield and hid behind it while moving forward and bracing both his legs, and the flat of his shield against the table.
2/10
Terran didn't wait for his opponent to get around to moving. And as Roen would brace himself for defense and heading out for the attack, the Infernal would tuck and roll under one of the room's tables. With his back square on the floor, he'd extend his legs in a vault, and the table would launch toward Roen, which would also take the brunt of the fireball and, with any luck, send just a massive chunk of flaming wood onto the fencer.
It wasn't that Terran was scared to get close. It's that Roen has armor and a weapon. Rolling backwards, Terran would get back to his feet and stretched his fingers, breathing deeply. Obviously, the Devil wasn't gonna play the cutesy keep away for too long, so Terran would need to step up his game soon.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
2/10
INTERMISSION
It's been one week since you post to me
Cocked your head to the side and said "I'm typing"
Since the end of the fight (I guess), Terran had reset the chair, and even managed to save the table, perhaps requiring a refinishing or some such. But overall, he was able to repair the room, really with very little cost to the HoH committee. Quietly, folding his big, beastly hands on the table top, Terran sat across from James Rhing, an announcer for GNR and, most notably, overnight rock caster.
"Now, I gotta say, I actually asked for a daytime shift just to watch the carnage of this one, and I'm sure I'm gonna suffer over it for the next week or so. But tell me, how do you feel about the fight?" James asked, leaning into the mic.
Leaning back, Terran took a swig of the coffee in front of him. "Well, ya know... see, last year, Griff Morivan faces off against Roen, and Griff got beat by a slim margin. Griff was a sword fighter in his mind, but when you get right down to it, dude was never really good with a blade, despite his best efforts. So, when fencing with Roen, he got pretty well spanked. The idea this year was to even that score. When I found out Roen was our first opponent, I was psyched. And then he just up and left after I chucked that table at him."
James laughed, nodding rapidly with a gaffaw. "Yeah! I mean, we've seen, in the last five years, people just punk out of their matches, but I've never seen anyone just bail after something small like that. A table? I mean, s**t, a table'd do me in, but Roen is a long time fighter, isn't he?"
"Well, I mean, I've known about Roen for about four years now, so he's been around the block for a while, yeah. You gotta remember, prior to HoH five years ago, the first one, there hadn't been a popular fighting competition in nearly fifty years. So who's famous? We mostly know each other, by proxy or first hand. I trained and was very close to Griff Morivan, I am dating Fayble Eria, so you know."
"Now, wait, on that one. Fayble is like, twenty one, twenty two. If you're old enough to have trained Griff, who died at 31 years old, how old does that make you?"
"Dude, we live in a world of massively insane woowoos. An older man dating a younger chick is really the smallest of everything."
"Fair enough. So, any plans this year for Asgard?"
"Well, we were formed as a reaction to the murder of Griff Morivan. We want to draw out the guy who did it, and kick his wily a** here till judgment. The man who killed Griff is well known to those who were close to him, and we basically just want to drudge him up. Dunno if he'll turn up, for certain."
"I see. So it's revenge. Anything you wanna say to him?"
"Yeah. He murdered Griff like a coward. Hiding away, like a rat. I intend to make him a god damned spectacle."
"Well, there you have it, ladies and gentlemen, Terran Maxwell. Lover of chicks with purple hair and warrior of vengeance. But hey, since I'm the one in charge today, is there anything you wanna hear on the radio, Mister Maxwell?"
"Yeah. Let's giv'em some Austrian Death Machine."