InvisionFree - Free Forum Hosting
Fully Featured & Customizable Free Forums

Learn More · Sign-up Now
Welcome to .hack//DIVERGENCE Subplot. We hope you enjoy your visit.


You're currently viewing our forum as a guest. This means you are limited to certain areas of the board and there are some features you can't use. If you join our community, you'll be able to access member-only sections, and use many member-only features such as customizing your profile, sending personal messages, and voting in polls. Registration is simple, fast, and completely free.


Join our community!


If you're already a member please log in to your account to access all of our features:

Name:   Password:


 

 Kiwi vs. Lyra, Fort Ouph vs. Dun Loireag
Nizam
Posted: Sep 29 2008, 08:32 PM


Your Friendly Neighborhood Schizo


Group: Members
Posts: 285
Member No.: 5,604
Joined: 16-February 07



Nizam hovered over the crowd on his announcer's slab, the slick limestone bobbing neatly in the air. "The time has finally come! The final's of the Root Town Clash tournament have arrived! The she-titan of the Highland City and the graceful colossus of the Fort of Elves will crack heads for your VISCERAL VIEWING PLEASURE! LET THE WORLD RUN RED WITH BLOOOOODDDDD."

He cleared his throat.

"Annddd....fight!


--------------------
Nizam - Level 99 Twin Blade
Owner and Operator of the Pawn Shop


Weapon: War and Peace
Armor: Fallen Pope | Demon Mail | Hades Gloves | Ultra Solleret


Member Addresses: Amethyst, Rayo, Centrus, Archangel, Sekai, Sasuke, Dien, Takua, Baron (Locke), Ko Inuyasha, Exangelus, Shenmock, Slicer (Lugiablaster), Magras, Phoenix, Raquar, Teishu, Kyin.
Hugs: Centrus
Cherries: Centrus
Top
KamiKazeKiwi3
Posted: Jul 6 2009, 07:59 AM


True Neutral Leader of the Swordbreakers
Group Icon

Group: Swordbreakers
Posts: 2,035
Member No.: 89
Joined: 27-May 03



“The match was amazing, everything went as planned. I managed to trick him into not using a Speed Charm and dominated the battle. I'll tell you the rest later, though. I've gotta plan for the final match. Anyways...”, says Robert, pinning the cordless phone to his ear with his left shoulder. The office chair creeks under his weight as he leans back, feet on his desk, typing away at the keyboard on his lap.

“A Twin Blade girl brought me a note earlier, before the match.”

“Was she hot?”, asks the voice at the other end of the call.

“I'm looking the note up...”, he continues, letting evasion speak for itself. “Okay, so... what does zool mean?” A pause follows as he listens. “No, it starts with an x. She wrote it in the note. I figured you'd know.”

“Oh, xool!” exclaims the phone. “It's pronounced cool. It's one of those new internet words. It's the same as cool but with a different spelling. Plus it doubles as a shibboleth to separate adults from net-savvy teens with their BRBs and their ROFLMAOs.”

Robert laughs. The chatter goes on. “Dude you're so lucky! She's bound to be part of the net's vanguard, a real hipster... If you know what I mean.”

“Right, I'm sure. Anyways, I've got the finals match coming up. I'll let you know how that goes later.” Moments later, the phone beeps and he tucks it into a gap between his computer tower and monitor. Robert reaches over for his visor and fiddles around with it as he prepares to get back in The World. Elsewhere, a trio discusses the tournament taking place, setting in motion a series of events that none had foreseen. They could not have imagined how it would change the upcoming match.



The Heavy Blade weaves his way through the masses as he traverses Mac Anu. Players gather as the final match approaches, readying their wagers and meeting up to flood the viewing stands. A few gripes about the new betting rules bring a grin to his lips. It's no surprise that the Swordbreakers' massive success should have lead to last-minute rule changes to curtail future winnings. He ducks into an alley and turns a corner. A door awaits him at the end of the journey, dull flattened graphics that meet his gaze to convey that this is a dead end. He glances around. No one else would bother to hang around here and it would seem that no one has followed him.

Kiwi steps before the door and pauses as if considering his next move. He grasps its dark golden knob. Two seconds pass and he turns the knob rightwards, completing the sequence procured from his memory. It swings inwards, allowing him to slip in quietly. The light of the outside world casts his shadow into the lair, fading as the door swings shut again. He descends four steps through the darkened shaft, gripping a wooden rail with his right hand, while dragging his fingers along the cool stone wall to his left. He treads with care; moisture clings to the stone and lends itself to an aura of disrepair hanging in the air.

Traversing the few steps, Kiwi reaches the main floor, where he gazes upon a wide room lit by lamps and lanterns hanging from wood pillars that support the rafters and ceiling. Immediately to his right are three topless wooden barrels. He draws the Moumokuteki and Demonic Sword from their sheathes on his back. The two blades come to rest in the barrels with a certain grace, as if observing a ritual required by this grave: the grave of a clan that disappeared without a trace. There are several wood tables with chairs hanging about, and a bar counter awaits across the room. The counter is a long and of oak, with eight stools. Someone placed considerable attention into designing the seats, as they have back rests and arm rests on them, but specifically do not swivel. Behind the bar against the wall is a mirror, creating the illusion that the room is larger than it truly is.

Long ago, this hideout belonged to the Vanguards of Twilight. It has since become his personal vault and a place to contemplate away from everyone. His eyes shift toward the bar. Two short glasses rest on the counter, filled part of the way up, with their corresponding glass bottle beside and between them. He left them there in the hopes that whoever remained would leave him a sign. He gives them a cursory glance and turns away...

Three glasses and two bottles. A stool is out of place. Kiwi snaps his head back for a second look. He steps over slowly, a mixture of excitement and disbelief swelling in his chest as he sets both hands on the counter. He positions himself behind three stools pressed into the bar, between the one bottle and glass on one side and the wares he left on the other. Closer inspection reveals a message traced into the dusty surface by someone.

“Mr. Kiwi, I can't believe you dipped in to our stash...” he reads aloud.

“Breaking and entering's a crime you know,” announces a voice to his right, “But this time I guess I could give a bird a break.” Robert feels his breath catch in his chest, his eyes widening in surprise. He slowly turns his character to face the player standing against a pillar, bathed in the dim glow of an orange lamp. Despite the unkempt brown hair, the somewhat pronounced scar over his right eye, and the black leather belt without a sword attached, the stranger still bears a resemblance to...

“...Wren...?” utters Kiwi, disbelief finding its way into his voice.

“In person.” replies the Blademaster. He takes a step forward and reaches out with his right hand, which Kiwi eyes for a moment. Kiwi returns the gesture and grasps his hand, giving it a firm shake as he dispels his shock. No sooner has he softened his stance than Wren laughs and reaches around to pat his back. Evidently, this is too much for even his usual laid-back demeanor.

“You okay? You look like you've seen a ghost, as cliché as that sounds.” Those words capture the essence of his state. Seeing any of the Vanguards walking about is like witnessing the last creature of a thought-to-be-extinct species. Kiwi finds himself questioning the timing of this as Wren swiftly ducks behind the bar and serves him a drink with theatrical skill.

It seems to be Wren.

“Truth be told I'm glad it was you that I ran in to first... From looking around I'd gathered that there were two people using this space, and I couldn't for the life of me figure out who the other was.” The Heavy Blade sheathes his doubts for the time being, convinced enough that it must be the right person. He meets the offer with a grin, a wave of excitement taking hold as he relaxes.

“Mr. Lakely, probably.” says Kiwi, deducing as much from previous encounters with the fellow Heavy Blade. He motions at the writing on the counter. “Did you write this?”

“Nope, that was there when I got here. It's how I knew you were one of the two, and how I knew there was a second, aside from the two displaced glasses and stools,” explains Wren. Suddenly, all puzzle pieces fall into place.

"It was him. He was the only one left. I saw him at an event but we were interrupted before I could talk to him more. Are the others around? What happened?” Kiwi rushes through the questions as they come to him, recalling all the mysteries that lingered around the fate of the Vanguards. The explosion catches Wren off guard and he takes a pace back.

“Woah, woah,” starts the Blademaster, “Okay, what others? And what happened to what? The clan is dead. I don't know where any of the old gang is... Last one I saw was Lighteria, and that was I don't know how long ago. I don't know what happened to anybody, not even myself... The last thing I remember is...”

The sentence ends there. Robert has just enough time to raise an eyebrow before – “...oh, and who was 'him'?”

“Mr. Lakely,” replies Kiwi, taking his drink while pointing toward the dust-scrawled message. “There are only a few people who call me that.”

As he sips from the glass, he holds back an amused smile. It dawns on him that he can count the times he has ever had real liquor with one hand, and yet he does so online without much thought. It's for the meaning, the aesthetics and symbolism, rather than for any effects. Suddenly, he remembers he should be considering other things, such as “...the Tournament.”

“Tournament? I did hear about that. Some things never change...” Wren, having turned his attention to the bar, looks back to him with a smile.

“How are you doing in that anyway? I haven't been around long enough to gather the details or anything, but I did hear about it from some guys in one of my history classes. They told me you were amazing, which was no real surprise to me, other than the fact that you were still playing. You always were good in tournaments.”

“I'm flattered, your equipment definitely helped,” says the Heavy Blade, grinning widely. He still wears the Dragon's Hands that he used to match Hacorie. A wave of his hands casts an orange shadow chasing after the rare gauntlets. Without them, he might not have stood a chance. He adds, “I need to leave for the finals soon... to fight Lyra.”

“Well I'm glad I could be of some service in one way or another. But speaking of... I hope this isn't a bad time, but I was wondering about the possibility of getting my equipment back. Since I've returned, and I'm quite without gear. It would be hazardous of me to wander outside the Root Town without anything strapped on...” Wren turns his gaze to the bar. “If it's not too much trouble, that is.”

Kiwi responds without a breaths hesitation, “It's fine. Give me a moment to figure out which of my items came from you. I've got some records.”

Contrary to rumors, he isn't the greedy bastard that some players make him out to be. With the same tenacity that he pursues the inventories of retiring players, earning him such nicknames as “grave robber”, he also keeps meticulous records of all the items exchanged in case any of them should return.

The Heavy Blade takes several minutes to sort out which items Wren had given him. It's a lengthy task since almost half of his equipment previously belonged to the Blademaster. Still, it's a matter of honor. Wherever an item is missing, he accounts for the absence by thinking back to his trades. He sets down the final piece and announces: “Your Ice Hunter Cap and Mizuchi are missing. I think I traded the cap in at the Pawn Shop, while the Mizuchi is currently with a newbie Blademaster called Kae. I lent your Kagayuzen to another player, but I'll get that back for sure.”

“This is wonderful, Kiwi. Thanks for holding on to all of this...” Wren responds, nodding. He seems absorbed in the task of reequipping his belongings but soon resumes their conversation. “Kae, huh...? Well, that's perfectly alright. I never really used the Mizuchi anyway. And I wouldn't worry much about the cap... I specialize in Fire. I really appreciate it. Who did you give the Kagayuzen to, if I might ask?”

“Shenmock,” Kiwi says, pausing shortly to remember more details. “A Blademaster with the Army of Darkness. He seems to have a lot of potential, though he lost his tournament match against Hacorie. Figured I'd befriend him.” Another pause follows. “Actually, it must sound a little odd that I'd lend equipment to AoD members. I was trying to show my intentions were true when offering to help with one of their squads.”

“Army of Darkness... I just can't believe they're still around. Considering the fate of the Vanguards... At least this is still here...” Distant disappointment follows his voice as he surveys the empty hideout.

“Oh, they're still running. The Swordbreakers are too,” says Kiwi, reaching up to scratch his head with one hand, realizing this might not be the right topic to bring up. He takes a glance at the hideout: “It's still here, waiting for you. I didn't know if you guys would come back, though, so I changed a few things. But I tried to leave most of the rooms untouched out of respect. Hope you don't mind.”

“Well.. At least someone was making use of the place. I imagine that library is yours, also?” Wren nods toward what used to be a stock room, since turned into a library, showing a smile. “As for coming back... I honestly don't know... I'm back, and apparently Lakely is still around... But I don't know who else is still here, but who knows what will happen..”

It's at this point that Kiwi notices Wren has emptied his glass. For about the third time. Not that he's been counting. The Blademaster pours himself another glass, lifting the bottle as if offering him more. He passes on the offer. Real world habits seem to be steering him away from Wren's bitter thirst.

“I'm glad you're still around, too, for what its worth.” The compliment distracts Kiwi from Wren gulping another glass in a single shot. “So what are you going to do about Lyra?”

“I'm not sure...” Kiwi shrugs, an unusual gesture on his part, and paces in thought. He wants to prove himself to be the greatest warrior. To rise above all others out of sheer prowess. Not for the sake of claiming to be the best, but to experience the rush of each encounter, unraveling the thoughts of an opponent as the two form an unconscious bond, glimpsing into each other's souls for a furious instant. With every move, with every word, with every counter, they reveal aspects of their innermost workings, each as unique as colors refracting off rain droplets, exposing a puzzle in and of itself. He longs for the best duels that bring him the indescribable clarity that comes with being absolutely focused, or as some call it, the high of being “in the zone.” He reemerges from his thoughts.

“Winning would be easy. I just don't want to defeat her...” He can't imagine himself attacking her. On the contrary, the very thought is sickening. In spite of his near-mythical reputation at times, Kiwi remains human, with human concerns and weaknesses.

The words stay on his mind. The conversation goes on a few more minutes until Kiwi departs for the tournament.


The Heavy Blade surveys his chosen field. He nods inwardly, satisfied that this is indeed the right one. It occurred to him as he prepared to cycle through random keywords in search of a good battleground. He takes a single pace forward, listening to the crunch of shallow snow beneath his black boots.

“Ap Corma” he calls, his words exhaled as a white puff. The spell sets him alight with a white glow. Miniature sparks spill from his fingertips and drift lazily down. The auras fade mere moments later.

Spires of ice crystals branch into the clear black sky, forming a faceted forest across the field. The moonlight glows silver against the cold latticework. A few broken images of the moon can be seen off the kaleidoscope of reflective surfaces. The weak shadows along the ground suggest where above the moon itself can be found. Kiwi remembers dueling Lyra here some time ago.

Quiet Forbidden Arctic was where he lost to her.

Things will be different this time. He runs his gauntlets against his denim jacket and tugs it straight, violet shadows trailing behind his hands. His right arm flexes to grasp the hilt protruding over his left shoulder, though holding off on drawing. Additional preparations will have to wait in the hopes of he can hide his strategy as long as possible. He stands there, watching, listening.

650/650 HP

142/156 SP


--------------------
Level 30 - Heavy Blade (650 HP, 141 SP with Silver Grunty)
Behind every great man there is a fox, rolling her eyes at him.

View my equipment and other information.
New Zealand Card Table

Key Items: Brownies x8, Mayko's Magical Puchiguso Plushie, Yang Necklace (and more)
Money: 17930.20 GP

user posted image
Top
Lyra
Posted: Jul 9 2009, 05:59 AM


KIND OF MAYBE SORT OF LIVING
Group Icon

Group: Admin
Posts: 3,702
Member No.: 59
Joined: 18-May 03



So this was it. This was what it had all come down to, the final round:

Lyra was fighting her clan leader. The love of her life. Her very inspiration for trying in the early days. He who had given her her second sword.

The man she'd beat in her last major one-on-one tournament.

Kiwi.

And she was terrified. Not because she thought he was some legendary challenge or a force to be reckoned with... far from it, actually. He was still powerful, and a higher level than she, but he had also grown soft and slow lately. And to say he had a soft spot for her was putting it lightly... he hated fighting people he knew, especially those he cared about, even in digital form, and seemed to dislike fighting women even in this context as well. Part of her hoped that the sheer slice to his pride from having lost once before would make him fight her properly.

As the field materialized around her, her breath caught in her throat, and she knew it wasn't true...

This was the place they'd fought before – a world made purely of her element, of ice twisted and locked beneath a full moon, of cold and winter. A place where she had the advantage if only because she knew the night and knew winter better than most... but also likely a place he'd been carefully studying ever since the day, trying to find just the right spot, just the right plan. As much as Kiwi hated to fight or hurt those he cared about, he hated to lose even more. He didn't have an ego, per-say, but the idea of someone else being better than him seldom crossed his mind, if ever.

...She was beginning to know him too well.

And part of knowing him that well was knowing that the fact she'd won before had never quite sat right with either of them. She'd been a much lower level, much less experienced... Part of her felt like he'd gone easy on her, while another thought the judges had shown leniency on her for those handicaps. The wedge was there now, in some form, however small, making her just jittery enough whenever she considered it, making it just a little too uncomfortable to ever bring up their previous match.

But he'd brought it up – silently, deliberately, and deafeningly – by choosing this field today. He still remembered and knew.

It would be easy to just let him win, to let the score be evened... but it wouldn't erase that awkward note between them. If anything, it would just make it worse... He would know if she wasn't trying. He'd call her on it. He'd be disappointed.

She had to beat him. She just hoped he understood how disappointed she'd be in return if he didn't give it his all. Lyra needed this victory, and not just to prove that the first one was deserved, either. Not to erase that slight “which of us is really better?” sensation... But to prove to herself that she was better. To prove to The World that she deserved that title, this title...

Every tournament title that would ever be. Any tournament she was qualified for, she still had to win. For the honor of her once-clan, the people she'd had to betray... for their freedom to do what they wanted within a freaking video game.

The whole thing felt a little silly if she stopped to think about it, but if she was going to feel silly about that, she'd have to feel silly about swinging around a sword that was easily over half of her body weight like it was nothing, and several other things, and that would just defeat the point of enjoying the game.

Lyra sighed, shaking her head and putting one hand on her hip. She had this awkward habit of accidentally ruining her own mood, especially when she was trying to build herself up to something. The other hand reached up to scratch her head behind one fox ear, then to rub her neck, one of her most typical gestures... enough so that she had a single keystroke for it.

'All just a game,' she reminded herself, surveying the field again. 'And yet... I care about it all. I care about them all... more so than most of “real” life...'

She needed to win. She needed to find him, now, and face him head on this time, instead of relying on sneak tactics.

She saw him nowhere, though, so she did the only natural Lyra thing to do in the situation.

Her eyes narrowed on the nearest hill, the highest point around, and on the quickest way up it. After a moment of sizing it up, she charged, red boots pounding through the snow, her footing occasionally slipping on the ice, and her fingers digging into the snow as she clambered up some of the sheerer parts of the hill on all fours.

“KIWI!” she screamed as soon as she got to the hill top, panting hard not from the virtual exertion, but from pure exhilaration and nerves. She swallowed hard, closing her eyes as she tried to forget the taste of that fear... and of her pride...

“Kiwi!” she shouted again, licking her teeth as the name came out more easily that time, her voice sounding less forced.

These would be the hardest words she'd ever said, and she needed him to know she believed them. There could be no doubt in his mind that she meant every word of it, no matter how much she wished she didn't. But Lyra had weighed all the options, thought it all out, and had decided that there was only one way to guarantee Kiwi would fight at his full potential.

“You better beat me! You have to beat me this time, Kiwi!” Her words echoed in her room and the empty night equally, making everything seem as hollow as her chest suddenly felt. “If you don't, I'm quitting the clan! You hear me?! I won't be lead by a weak leader!”

She clenched her teeth and closed her eyes, taking a pair of deep breaths that hissed between her canines as she gathered her will again. “Rig Saem... Ap Do...” she whispered the two spells, activating the abilities in turn, knowing that he'd be here soon and that they'd be necessary to survive the battle again. Her leg armor would likely need to be changed, too... but she'd fix that if the abilities on her other armor seemed more useful. It all depended on how he was fighting, what technique he was using...

And whether or not her likely-hurtful words had set him off and forced him to fight fully.

She let a call that was somewhere between a roar and a howl, unfastening her sword and swinging it so the moonlight would catch it – the legendary blade that he had helped her earn, Mimiru's Sword. “COME AND GET ME!”


--------

HP:630/630
SP:93/122


Edited both for standard "Admin has to edit..." and because I initially forgot SP bar.

This post has been edited by Lyra on Jul 9 2009, 06:25 AM


--------------------
Hey guys, I'm alive! ...On Tumblr. Go bug me there.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Lyra Kamiya -- Moonlight Shadow ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Click here for Lyra's (somewhat busted) profile
----lv29|HeavyBlade|FoxGirl|630HP|122SP|14-1-3|Professional Loose Cannon----


Mimiru's Sword|Winter Coat|Face Guard|Frost Bracer|Mountain Guard|Obligatory Random Goggles
Hayabusa|Calamity|Rue Zot|Ap Ruem|Rue Rom|Repth--+--Current quest: It's All in the Wrist
user posted image
Reality is what happens while you are sitting around making plans.
Top
KamiKazeKiwi3
Posted: Jul 12 2009, 05:58 AM


True Neutral Leader of the Swordbreakers
Group Icon

Group: Swordbreakers
Posts: 2,035
Member No.: 89
Joined: 27-May 03



“If you don't, I'm quitting the clan! You hear me?! I won't be lead by a weak leader!”

Robert's lips twist into a grin. The words strike him as more of an amusing ruse than anything to worry about. He chuckles at the threat, thinking a witty retort: Okay, go ahead.

A little concern crosses his mind. He keeps the thought to himself.

Kiwi follows the sound of Lyra's voice to her obscure podium, an odd snow drift gathered in an otherwise flat field. He recognizes the Mimiru's Sword in her grasp; it's the sword that he won alongside her in the Doubles Tournament and traded her afterwards. Not an unexpected choice, being one of the greatest swords he knows of, but the sight of her ready to wield it suddenly suggests the gravity of his situation. She's carrying what amounts to a chainsaw among swords.

This is the real deal. She's serious about this. I'll have to play to win just to stand a chance. thinks Kiwi.

Unlike previous rounds, the Heavy Blade assumed that he knew Lyra well enough not to bother with any planning this time. He reasoned that he had overpowered most of his previous opponents so easily, without drawing on his full inventory, that Lyra couldn't stand a chance. After all, she barely has any armors near her current level, much less rare items to match his options. He also assumes her tactical prowess to be lesser at times, although he would never admit so to avoid the chance of hurting her feelings. To put it simply, Nekkiko isn't the brightest crayon in the box.

On the other hand, she isn't stupid: she reached the final round somehow. More over, the narrow range of equipment she has works well against him. It doesn't take a genius to figure out what she'll be doing with her sword in a few moments. To top it all off, he gave up about half his items to Wren less than an hour ago.

He considers their yin-and-yang combination for a moment. It dawns on him that she probably has exactly the kind of equipment that poses a severe threat to him on several levels. His setup covers her weaknesses in return. He sees the sequence of moves playing out as a rush. This won't last long, and he'll be the one losing if he doesn't get serious.

Damn it... His first mistake was coming into this match without planning against her usual style and equipment. He looks up at her, crunching snow as he paces closer, flicking his left wrist downwards.

She doesn't need to know that, though. As far as anyone knows, he has a counter to every plan she could conceive. He runs some numbers through his head. She's just almost dangerous as Hacorie! Or even more than him.

“Ap Do,” Kiwi declares, the Speed Charm card withering to dust in his left hand. Even before the phantom clock is done infusing him increased speed, he dashes off to the side, beginning his retreat from her melee range. Yet he knows well that running won't be enough to keep her away. He needs a little more time to prepare.

“Rig Saem,” he follows up. His brown pupils dart to the side, trying to tell whether the fox is chasing him or not from the reflections off a crystal spire. The Heavy Blade flashes white with the healing spell, losing any semblance of trying to hide as sprites cast a brief sparkling trail after him. In spite of this, he feels the adrenaline kicking in, the clarity taking hold.

Kiwi draws the Demonic Sword over his shoulder. The cool blue aura licks at the night like small flames off the indigo katana.

650/650 HP
129/156 SP


--------------------
Level 30 - Heavy Blade (650 HP, 141 SP with Silver Grunty)
Behind every great man there is a fox, rolling her eyes at him.

View my equipment and other information.
New Zealand Card Table

Key Items: Brownies x8, Mayko's Magical Puchiguso Plushie, Yang Necklace (and more)
Money: 17930.20 GP

user posted image
Top
Lyra
Posted: Jul 15 2009, 06:00 AM


KIND OF MAYBE SORT OF LIVING
Group Icon

Group: Admin
Posts: 3,702
Member No.: 59
Joined: 18-May 03



This wasn't working. He wasn't coming out. She thought for sure he'd take the bait, but here she was, still waiting for him to show up.

He'd sneak attack now, for sure. He wasn't going to use any kind of direct approach at this point, and she realized why very quickly, too: she had that sword, and he knew she had it, and he knew how much damage she could do with that damn thing. She was proud of all that damage, but it was deadly even to him... so he'd keep his distance.

Lyra hissed, biting her lip. 'Damn, I'm an idiot. Now he knows where I am, and I've got no idea where he is... I just gave him a huge advantage.' She scrambled down from her low post and into hiding nearby, looking out for him wherever he might be hiding.

If he was going to try keeping his distance, he'd probably activated Ap Do by now, same as herself. He knew she had it and knew she never went into battle without it – by now, she used it not as an advantage against anyone, but because it was flat out standard for duels, especially tournaments. Not having Ap Do put you at a distinct disadvantage in all but the lowest levels. So he'd have it, and probably could stay one step ahead of her because of it – he would be slightly faster, because he was still a slightly higher level.

What else Kiwi might use to strengthen himself was a mystery to her. What would he use against her? Would he go magic happy, like he tended to, or would he figure she'd expect it and take some other kind of approach? She frowned at the idea of being nuked by one of his summons... She wasn't sure she could take many hits like that. Her ears twitched as she sighed, planting her sword into the snow momentarily.

If he was going to play keep-away, she'd have to make doubly certain that her hits counted. The nearly guaranteed Critical rate of her sword was definitely vital here – but she'd have to go ahead and take it one step further.

The Mountain Boots were actually a bit low for her level by now, but that wasn't exactly new for her armor – she had a bad tendency to use all her funds on weapons and let her armor go by the wayside. She would boast that it was because she wasn't going to get hit anyway, so it didn't matter, but in reality it was a combination of them all being Vak elemental at her current level, and of her just being too gung ho about other things to remember to buy armor. That'd likely change for the next 15 levels or so, until the Mimiru's Sword and Moumokuteki slowly became useless on a stats level, even if their actual abilities would be superior until she was double her current level. Yes, Lyra would finally be able to buy some decent equipment... if she remembered...

For now, she had these Mountain Boots, and they weren't technically hers either, though the player who gave them to her not only no longer had a use for them, but perhaps was gone from the game entirely... She smiled despite the thought of him being gone, though, as she switched out the armor; he had been the one person to beat her in what she considered a fair fight, one of the few worthy adversaries she'd encountered during her time in The World.

“Ap Corv,” she said calmly, then took another deep breath as the white aura fell over her. She was more powerful now, at a raw attack level. She could do more damage to Kiwi now – hopefully taking him down in four hits or less, which meant that his hiding would mean little if she could find him, even if for just a moment or two.

Now it was just a matter of finding him. She wondered where he could be...

Nekkiko suddenly compared the situation to playing Laser Tag, something she'd done with Robert only a couple times but loved to do. The maze they'd played in had failed her miserably because she was such a direct attacker, poor at sitting back and waiting to snipe, instead finding herself trapped in the middle of the map, easily targeted by the other players, including Robert. It had taken her several games to learn to stand back and wait for the others to come looking for her.

That was option one... but the problem with that idea was that effectively, he had a gun and she had a saber in this laser war. He could hit her from a distance with his summons and spells, without even giving away his location to her if he was careful enough. Lyra had her regeneration spell on to help counter part of that, but if he spammed spells fast enough... She didn't want to think about that.

So instead of falling back on the idea of waiting for him to come to her... She fell back on her other option to look for Kiwi. The old Figment Raider rule of dungeons crawling:

Always turn left.

She stalked off in that direction, keeping her back against anything she could find and glancing over her shoulder frequently.

Left. She'd find him if she just kept going that way, she knew it. He was coming for her, after all.

--------

HP:630/630
SP:80/122


Edited for standard "Admin has to edit..."
...Damn, missed it by like two minutes. Memo to self: fix computer's time. Damn thing lied to me and said it was 11:54. DX


This post has been edited by Lyra on Jul 15 2009, 06:01 AM


--------------------
Hey guys, I'm alive! ...On Tumblr. Go bug me there.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Lyra Kamiya -- Moonlight Shadow ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Click here for Lyra's (somewhat busted) profile
----lv29|HeavyBlade|FoxGirl|630HP|122SP|14-1-3|Professional Loose Cannon----


Mimiru's Sword|Winter Coat|Face Guard|Frost Bracer|Mountain Guard|Obligatory Random Goggles
Hayabusa|Calamity|Rue Zot|Ap Ruem|Rue Rom|Repth--+--Current quest: It's All in the Wrist
user posted image
Reality is what happens while you are sitting around making plans.
Top
KamiKazeKiwi3
Posted: Jul 22 2009, 06:00 AM


True Neutral Leader of the Swordbreakers
Group Icon

Group: Swordbreakers
Posts: 2,035
Member No.: 89
Joined: 27-May 03



It takes a few seconds for reality to set in. The Heavy Blade glances over his shoulder, slowing his dash through the field as he looks around until he comes to a full stop. He thought she would have noticed him stepping toward her and using casting; apparently that wasn't enough to draw her attention.

Whether by maddening coincidence or masterful design, the fox seems to have overlooked him being within running distance of her. It could be a clever plan to lure him out, he considers, sure to check his surroundings by turning unpredictably. She could be waiting for him to become careless before pouncing.

Or, she could be completely oblivious to his existence. The seconds pass and Robert groans audibly into his microphone. This is definitely not how he planned to start things. It throws a wrench into the sole plan he came into the match with. Now he has to seek the fox out, an almost lethal approach, if he hopes to make any headway on this match.

Robert delves into his menus, tapping keys in rapid succession. The practiced gestures switch out some of his equipment without him having to understand the blurred screens passing on his interface. The changes take mere moments; he had planned at least this much ahead of the fight. He glances at his gauntlets just in time to see the involuntary violet flash of magic leaving his fingertips. The surrounding air darkens noticeably as waves of black specks soon engulf his vision. The soot cloud fades into being around him almost without warning. Then, just as it silently appeared, the haze disperses into the night. It's the side effect of using one of his items: though the Philosopher's Fragment grants Kiwi some useful abilities, the poison that accompanies the item lasts as long as he wears it. He watches his HP twitch up and down as the poison and regeneration spells undo each other's effects.

Out of the corner of his eye, Kiwi catches a glimpse of movement. He turns, recognizing the pair of orange fox ears almost peeking out from around a crystal spire. The boot leading them is all too familiar. Instinct takes hold.

“Orme A-” starts Kiwi, whipping his sleeve as he reaches out sharply to aim the spell at Lyra. Yet a breath's hesitation is enough for him to realize that her eyes seem to be focused elsewhere. His mind reacts midway through the words: “She hasn't noticed me!”

He pins his tongue between his teeth to keep from finishing the spell. Time seems to stop as he frantically struggles with the realization that she really is oblivious to his presence. He strains against the tangled logic shouting that he needs to strike now, but that crushing her under these conditions would be cheap.

Damn it, attack her. You need to attack her. he thinks to himself, staring at her intently. Suddenly, the fox turns his way, perhaps driven by her routine searching or alerted by his earlier motions. Did she notice him? He inhales sharply, searching for the next words to utter, feeling for something to do before she can charge at him.

“RIG GEAM,” he finally shouts, a backwards attempt to advance his strategy. He begins to backpedal into the icy forest, holding his eyes toward her.

650/650 HP
110/156 SP



--------------------
Level 30 - Heavy Blade (650 HP, 141 SP with Silver Grunty)
Behind every great man there is a fox, rolling her eyes at him.

View my equipment and other information.
New Zealand Card Table

Key Items: Brownies x8, Mayko's Magical Puchiguso Plushie, Yang Necklace (and more)
Money: 17930.20 GP

user posted image
Top
0 User(s) are reading this topic (0 Guests and 0 Anonymous Users)
0 Members:
« Next Oldest | Tournaments | Next Newest »
InvisionFree - Free Forum Hosting
Join the millions that use us for their forum communities. Create your own forum today.
Learn More · Register Now

Topic Options



Hosted for free by InvisionFree* (Terms of Use: Updated 2/10/2010) | Powered by Invision Power Board v1.3 Final © 2003 IPS, Inc.
Page creation time: 0.1225 seconds | Archive


Affiliates:
RPG,D&D Library
.hack is TM & ©2001-2008 Bandai. DIVERGENCE is ©2003-2006 Gingitsune, ©2005-2007 Rayo and Lyra, and ©2008-2009 Lyra and Centrus. All posts are © their posters as of the time posted.