Kindling

Then he stood back up. They were pleased, the invisible spectators of Kindling's mind. The figments of the fame and love he'd received from that encounter. Left only with a small panel congratulating him on the win against those creatures, and rewarding him with the money they drop for being defeated. Their bodies slowly dissipating, fading away pixel by pixel , eating away at their forms. Leaving behind only the glowing white wisps of flame in their wake reminiscent of souls. Their lootable corpses, all that was left of them now. One by one, Kindling would bring up his UI, tapping at the butt

That was not the fate in store for him today; Kindling would ensure as such. He remained standing tall, even if he was outnumbered, and his health bar was close to red. He'd simply need to move faster. And move faster he would. This time a lot more prepared, both mentally and physically, for the lunging and charging slashes of his four opponent. Quick to duck higher slices, or turn his body against their cuts down. They continued to shout at each other, making sure that they attacked at the same time, to overwhelm and confuse him with the strikes. Now the enclosed area worked against the Briga

No sooner had the spear come in a long line of burning pixels into his hand then the man who spoke simply smirked, and lunged forward. It was something that the red haired man had prepared for, but more mentally than physically. He was too slow, getting a nice red slash just underneath his lapel, that burned and hurt like hell. His teeth gritted as he tried to go up onto the rocks nearby, and use them for leverage and momentum. It was good that the game assisted him with acrobatics like this; it wasn't really something he had worked on in his actual life. But here, he was a fantasy character,

The stillness, the silence. You'd think one could hear the horrified screams of damned souls, or echoed screeches of banshees mimicking human terror and pain. That, or at least the footsteps of the large beings beyond their comprehension. No, instead there was just the complete and utter lack of any activity. Even the air remained unmoving, stale. Shifting only with the pink, slimey tendrils that slithered around buildings and into the broken alleyways of this forsaken city. Kindling fought the overwhelming urge that nagged at his brain, to look up. The being there was tugging at his mind, uns

The stillness, the silence. You'd think one could hear the horrified screams of damned souls, or echoed screeches of banshees mimicking human terror and pain. That, or at least the footsteps of the large beings beyond their comprehension. No, instead there was just the complete and utter lack of any activity. Even the air remained unmoving, stale. Shifting only with the pink, slimey tendrils that slithered around buildings and into the broken alleyways of this forsaken city. Kindling fought the overwhelming urge that nagged at his brain, to look up. The being there was tugging at his mind, uns

The stillness, the silence. You'd think one could hear the horrified screams of damned souls, or echoed screeches of banshees mimicking human terror and pain. That, or at least the footsteps of the large beings beyond their comprehension. No, instead there was just the complete and utter lack of any activity. Even the air remained unmoving, stale. Shifting only with the pink, slimey tendrils that slithered around buildings and into the broken alleyways of this forsaken city. Kindling fought the overwhelming urge that nagged at his brain, to look up. The being there was tugging at his mind, uns

The stillness, the silence. You'd think one could hear the horrified screams of damned souls, or echoed screeches of banshees mimicking human terror and pain. That, or at least the footsteps of the large beings beyond their comprehension. No, instead there was just the complete and utter lack of any activity. Even the air remained unmoving, stale. Shifting only with the pink, slimey tendrils that slithered around buildings and into the broken alleyways of this forsaken city. Kindling fought the overwhelming urge that nagged at his brain, to look up. The being there was tugging at his mind, uns

He was ready to jump, knees bent and to take flight, before came the flash of a shadow followed by the flurry of blows. Sweeping kicks, uppercuts, combo'd jabs, and some effect that spread that damage around to all the surrounding harpies. Kindling's brow furrowed, the corner of his mouth ever so slightly pulling back his top lip. Before he could even swing, all four were dead. He wouldn't be getting any portion of that loot. That was the least of it. There was a much worse emotion hiding with in. Gaze shifting onto the energetic, blonde haired man. This was one of the combatants from the comp

A golden potato chip, glittering and reflecting in the sunlight. Turned back and forth between pinched fingers, both of it's flat surfaces along its thin structure examined one way, and then the other in repeat. Kindling tilted his head slightly, holding it up a bit higher to get a long, good look at it. This was certainly strange to get from the restaurant. A far cry from wagyu beef, or the ramen you see in anime with the slices of pork and a sunny side-up egg always mystically appearing on top from a package. Then another thought crossed his mind, brows wrinkling above his set of blue eyes.

Pick up ^

This wasn't his usual type of spot. Kindling wasn't all that personally pulled in by the typical Japanese style, and cared little for it compared to his preferred Han-Era Chinese interests. Still, someone had recommended this restaurant in Taft, and it was hard to deny that it was really nice. All of it was so neat, the atmosphere a lot more quiet, compared to the busy city outside. The door was open, so hopefully the Player-Cook was here, though the man understood that those like him were busy. Trying to always keep up with getting enough resources, experience, or just outright glory. Only wa

How was he back here already? In the deserts of floor five, Kindling felt like he had just barely gotten the feeling of his teeth grinding and crunching dirt out of his mouth a few moments ago. Of course, the truth was, it had been a few weeks, and he hadn't suffered through the same sandstorm on his way back, but it was more of the general disdain for the coarse, rough sand that had gotten everywhere. Though in this specific case, it was a boon to the announcer. He looked over each mound of sand, knowing that beneath the dunes, there were small treats placed for each of today's competitors. T

How was he back here already? In the deserts of floor five, Kindling felt like he had just barely gotten the feeling of his teeth grinding and crunching dirt out of his mouth a few moments ago. Of course, the truth was, it had been a few weeks, and he hadn't suffered through the same sandstorm on his way back, but it was more of the general disdain for the coarse, rough sand that had gotten everywhere. Though in this specific case, it was a boon to the announcer. He looked over each mound of sand, knowing that beneath the dunes, there were small treats placed for each of today's competitors. T

How was he back here already? In the deserts of floor five, Kindling felt like he had just barely gotten the feeling of his teeth grinding and crunching dirt out of his mouth a few moments ago. Of course, the truth was, it had been a few weeks, and he hadn't suffered through the same sandstorm on his way back, but it was more of the general disdain for the coarse, rough sand that had gotten everywhere. Though in this specific case, it was a boon to the announcer. He looked over each mound of sand, knowing that beneath the dunes, there were small treats placed for each of today's competitors. T

How was he back here already? In the deserts of floor five, Kindling felt like he had just barely gotten the feeling of his teeth grinding and crunching dirt out of his mouth a few moments ago. Of course, the truth was, it had been a few weeks, and he hadn't suffered through the same sandstorm on his way back, but it was more of the general disdain for the coarse, rough sand that had gotten everywhere. Though in this specific case, it was a boon to the announcer. He looked over each mound of sand, knowing that beneath the dunes, there were small treats placed for each of today's competitors. T

The Colosseum of <<Scalabis>>, in its grandeur of arches, massive walls, and ring of banners creating intervals around the top of it. For Kindling, it was impossible to not stare at it, in all it's marble and limestone glory, dwarfing the rest of the City beneath it. The tallest towers alone, illustrious forums, and laurel-spiraled pillars that belonged to temples didn't even come close to inspiring the awe that the Amphitheatre did. He could practically hear the cheers of a crowd inside, see the way in which they leaned forward in anticipation, shouted for their favorite combatant

| FLOOR TWENTY-FOUR Eyes mirroring the ocean's color kept vigilant. Each paddle moved Kindling and his small boat along. Noting that most of this ocean was nothing but soaked rocks, and withered palm trees. With only the occasional massive turtle shell in green, white, or blue appearing from the surface below, or sunbathing on an ivory beach nearby. Thinking about how he knew people who would call this floor beautiful, yet he didn't see the appeal. So far he was just getting sunburnt, and bored trying to fight the waves and scout out these supposed 'Paradise Isles'. His head turning from

Purchasing:

An arena that would have to wait until tomorrow, it seemed to Kindling. For, as the night dragged on, so did the cold with it. Getting to a point low enough that if Kindling scoffed out a particularly warm breath directly at the oversized celestial body lighting up the sky at this moment, he'd be able to see the air in a light grey mist. That, coupled with the growing soreness in his abdomen, and feet meant that it was getting too late to continue on for now. He had to criticize himself; having gone too far when it came to the fight with the <<Sand Shark>>. Something that was hardl

With some wild luck, or perhaps pre-determined destiny, there was something else walking in the night. Kindling saw first only the moving of shapes, registering mostly the change in lighting to catch his attention, however small it was. It caught his attention, causing the man to look, and examine it from his great distance. Some sort of massive rock formation, the moon lighting it up in long streaks as its craggy surface, painting every single elevation and depression granted by the winds and rains of time. Well, more like scratched on there by some underpaid visual artist, more likely. Or ge

That would be it for hours. Slow steps trudging along, leaving craters in the sand where his feet made contact, and then lift again to kick some of it up and forward. Most of the time, his prints were erased. Lost to time by the storm not moments after he had left them, leaving no mark or legacy on this path. Just as there were no footprints in front of him, despite the fact that he knew hundreds of players likely made this same trek. No, that was more reserved for some of the dungeons of the world, the labyrinths. That, and the Monument of Life. Those were the ways players left their stain on

It was more of the same. Lunging, dodging, thrashing, slashing. Repeat. The timing was entirely readable, one moment into the next, followed by that process with limited variation. It was fun for Kindling just to move around like he was, twisting his entire body around in order to skip the attacks of the creature. Absolutely flexing on it not just with his statline, but with his skill. A level of it that felt just so innate. Like destiny chose him specifically to end the short, undynamic life of this obstacle. If one could even call it a life. Nothing more than a set of instructions that comma

If there was a way to record or stream gameplay like this, this situation would have made one hell of a short or story in some quick-video format app. Expertly waiting, reading, and dodging every lunge, bite, self-propelled shot, and swing by the <<Sand Shark>>. Slap on some shitty bass boosted music, mess with the filter, and everyone could lose their minds in the comment section about just how fucking good he was at this. Swinging his body around with admittedly strenuous use of his core and legs, while watching and maintaining perfect distance with the enemy question. Only to ca

A Sand Shark, not the first time he had seen one. This one was the largest of them, though. A grin spread across his face, just as he moved again to dodge another dolphin-like leap from the surface of the sand into the air. "Come and get it, buddy." He taunted, just as he quickly planted his feet down, and threw himself back in a dramatic backstep. Clasping the length of black handle on his spear. It was the perfect movement in that moment. No sooner had he made the maneuver than he had predicted what the monster would do in response. Rising straight up from the loose ground like a shar

Good Morning Challengers! Your weekly matches have been drawn up, and then separated between Hosts @Minako and I, @Kindling. Your host will be the one who posts the thread to introduce your fight, and give some flavor casting throughout the combat. With the drawn up matches, your Weekly Clash Shop has been rolled and assigned. Use this opportunity to understand who your opponent is, and plan accordingly either through your own build, and through consumables purchasable in the Weekly Shop. Remember! No outside consumables are allowed in these fights. Only those purchased at the Weekly Shop.