VFX: Pankas Silverkin VS Poppy "Popinjay" Jeremiah

Howdy, and welcome all you violence loving children of God! You're watching Violence Fights of eXtreme, the best and bloodiest entertainment you'll ever get! I'm Reverend "Dropkick" McMurphy, your host for tonights jam!

It's finally time to bring about the first fight, and tonight we'll be cheering for Pankas Silverking - the Globetrotterus Rex, and our resident Flame Fatale - Poppy "Popinjay" Jeremiah! Come on folks, clap them hands and blow those horns! Yeah, come ON! Ahh, ain't that beautiful, mister Musashi? Can I get an amen? Can ya say hallelujah?

Tell you what, Dropkick, that's about the wildest session of cheerin' I've seen since sergeant Peppers disarmed and slew general Ching Chong Chang with nothin' but his penis and some coconut oil, in front of the entire navy corps, back in the 'Nam!

I'll just take that as your amen then, shall I son? Well folks, as much as I'd love to hear ya'll cheerin' for me all evening, we've got us a fight to start up! Now, it really isn't time for the game to begin just yet, so we've got some time to prepare ourselves for the coming bloodbath. I've gone and sent my co-host, miss Natacha Korinivsomething, down to the fighter's lockerrooms to see if we can't get us an interwiev from them before the bell rings! Sweetheart, what's up down there?

Hiello mister Dropkick! I standing in front of boys locker room right now, waiting to knock knock the door to see if mister Silverkeen is in. I knock knock now? Da, I do!

(The fight is set for the upcoming Monday (the eighth of February), and ends on Wednesday that same week. I will start the game as early as I can on Monday (Swedish time) and end it as late as possible on Wednesday (also Swedish time). Until then, feel free to get interwieved by our dear busty Russian gamehost )

 

He was standing in the lockerroom that was provided for the fighters in the tournament when he heard the knockings on the door and the voice of Natacha Korinivskaja. Sometimes he woundered if it was worth all the trouble, since he didn't like drawing attention to himself.

"Don't you bother asking for entrance Natacha. I'm guessing you already know I'm here, or you wouldn't be down here
knocking on my door. And since I'm fairly certain that it doesn't matter wheter I give you my permission to enter or not, since you most probably will enter anyway. So by all means, come on in and let us finnish this charade before the pre-combat time ends, shall we?" he said with a voice that was dry from sarkasm. He often sounded like that, and apperently most people didn't respond to well to it, he had learned.

As he heard the door open, he turned to face Ms Natacha. "So you did hear me."

"Hiello Mr Silverkeen, thank you for letting me in. Would you like to share you story with the audience Mr Silverkeen?"[/color]

"No, Natacha, I wouldn't like to share anything of me. I would prefer to come here, do my share of the fighting and then leave. But then I suppose that this is also a part of the tournament, and that you won't leave me alone untill I have given you at least a bone to gnaw on." With this he summoned forth a bone and theatricly threw it in a corner as Natacha looked at him in a mix of confusion and fear, as if she wasn't sure if this was a joke or not, nor if she were supposed to laugh or run. She decided to giggle in fear.

"I Guessed not. I can tell you that I was born. There is not much to tell you in my life untill I went out to explore the different worlds there is. And from there on the is only action and consequences, wich eventually led me here. And that exacly what I have to tell you at this point. So now maybe you should go harasse my adversary."

When said this he turned around and started to focus inwards, so that he would be fully prepared to the upcomming battle.

 

Having being firmly rebuffed by Pankas, Natacha makes her way to the other locker room, to find the other competitor with her nose firmly buried in a book. 'On the Nature of the Hells', the cover reads, by some unknown author, and the small redhead keeps snickering derisively.

The woman looks up at her unexpected guest and marks her place in the book. She looks even less of a fighter than her opponent - if not for the worryingly blood-like colour of her hair and eyes, she wouldn't look out of place in a famous university somewhere, albiet better dressed than most.

"Can I help you?" she asks, giving Natacha a quick look-over. "Surely it isn't time for the battle already?"

"Nope! I'm here to interview you, Miss Jermi!"

"It's Jeramiah."

"So, Miss Jermi, are you looking forward to the fight?"

"Jeramiah. And yes, I am. It's been a long time since I had a decent opponent."

"Neat! We heard some really weird stuff about your past lately too. Wanna elaborate, Miss Jermi?"

"Miss... Natacha, was it? I would make a suggestion. Very few of the people willing to sign up for a competition such as this will be willing to share anything, especially with a braindead imbecile such as yourself. I will, however, share this much with you - I carry the blood of demons within me, and I have little patience for the mewling of the foolish."

Poppy grabs Natacha, teleports (pops) the pair into the hall, and then pops away once more. The lock on the locker room door audibly clicks, ending the interview.

 

In an explosion of light and sound, Violence Fights of eXtreme comes back from the commercial break, the camera focused on a helicopter flying at high speed over what appears to be extensive, sunbathed fields, carrying a steel box beneath it. The screen then changes back to the VFX studio, where the Reverend is currently hugging and comforting a clearly shaken Natacha Korinivsomething. Having noticed that he's back on air, he lets mister Musashi take over the comforting (a task he accepts with great enthusiasm), and positions himself in front of the camera.

Howdy folks, and welcome back to Violence Fights of eXtreme! Having concluded the interviews with the fighters as well as sending them off to todays arena, we're ready to start the first fight up in just a matter of minutes! Todays arena is set in Africa, on the mighty site of:

Pride Rock


This awesome rock formation in the middle of the African steppe is more than anything a reminder to us humble children of God of the Lords power and grace. Not only does the arena include desperately great hights to fall from, but also a den full of sleeping lions, their king Simba amongst them! We've also thrown in a few surprises for todays fight, such as a specific monkey, a warthog and a small rodent - all ready to step forward in the defense of their beloved king and Rock. The fighters will be dropped off on each side of the natural monument in just a matter of seconds now! I say folks, just as the Lord once summoned the light by calling for it in the darkness, I shall now summon this, our first fight, by doing the very same thing: Fighters of the VFX, LET THERE BE BLOOD! BEGIN!

 

"That... is a very big rock..." Poppy mutters, standing up and dusting herself off. The Reverand hadn't been kidding when he'd said 'dropped'.

She looks around, taking note of the myriad of places where a person could hide and snipe from. This would be a good battlefield for her - she was, after all, a thief by trade, and well accustomed to finding advantages in every possible situation.

Adjusting her cravat, she ponders her situation for a moment. Her opponent's abilities were by far the least well known in this competition - all that she had been able to gather was that he was a mage of some kind, and capable of crossing dimensions into the bargain. Her best option would be to make good use of her agility and her teleportation skills until she had a solid grasp of what he was capable of.

With a quick shrug, she closes her eyes for a moment and takes a single long, deep breath. The runes across her body start to glow brilliant crimson, even showing right through her clothing.

"Oh, so pretty!" Natacha breathes.

"Don't forget, Natacha, that those beautiful colours hide a power granted to her by her daddy, who was a spawn of the Devil hisself!"

"Too true, Reverand. Of course, tiefers are always tricky opponents - back in Korea, the Reds had a whole platoon o' pyro tiefers, and you did not want to be the poor bastard on the recieving end of that!"

Popinjay rolls her eyes. Honestly, these commentators are all insane. She removes her glasses and strides confidently across the field towards the area her foe was likely to be.

 

He slowly fell to the ground as he examined the battlefield from where he had been droped and landed softly on the ground. There were many places to hide in this area, so he knew he was at a disadvantage since his opponent was a thief. He stood quietly for a while, deciding his next move.

He came to the conclusion that he would have to make the first move. And he decided to go full out, but he was sure he had enough time to do something big.

He tilted his head slight backward and stared up the sky as he started to chant in the language of spirits, or one of the languages at least.

Sparks started to appear around him, and he started to hover over the ground as the clouds began to gather over the battlefield. Flashes of lightning started to move from him to the ground, from the ground to the clouds and from the clouds to the ground, in an utter chaos. There were no telling where it would hit next. As he reached satisfaction with his storm, he stopped the chanting and started to move, in hunt for his prey.

And now the inhabitants had been made nervous, he could hear it on the roars from the cliff. He knew that wouldn't take to easy on an intruder like himself.

Then it started to rain.


'Wait, where did this storm come from? There was sunny just now"

My dear Natacha, there is a mage down there doing part of the fighting. I'm guessing the storm is his work.

Bah, this is no storm! Back in the 'Nam we considered ourselves lucky if we could have weather like this half the time.

He could hear the voices that belong to the commentators, but they did not bother him. They were not what he was after.

 

Popinjay ducks under a handy stone outcropping, looking up at the sky with wide eyes. "Son of a BITCH!" she growls, watching the rain splatter down heavily. She'd need to expend a lot of energy into carrying a shield under that kind of weather.

"I really, really despise fucking mages," she mutters, not elaborating on the blindingly obvious double entendre.

She leant out slightly, catching a glimpse of her opponent striding confidently across their battlefield, and getting an earful of the angry howls of the local beasts. She leans back against the stone again, running through several options in her head. Until the storm died, she'd need to stay under cover if she wanted to mount any kind of reasonable defence, and she doubted that her knives would hold up under one of those thunderbolts.

She was going to have to mess with him. A cruel smirk twists her lips as she takes a deep breath and pops right in front of her opponent.

"Catch me if you can!" she yells, grinning like a maniac, before popping behind him and tapping his shoulder. "Come now, surely the great mage is up to catching the little thief?"

She pops up to the top of Pride Rock, scoops up a small flat stone, and throws it at his head to test his defences.

"Lord only knows what this girl is plannin', ladies and gentlemen! Faced with a storm of biblical proportions, the hellspawn starts chuckin' rocks!"

"It's a damn fine way of checkin' a mage's defences, Rev, first used by Nobunaga Oda way back in the day! Admittedly he was usin' rifles, but the principle is the same."

"I want glowink tattoos!"

"We know y'do, Natacha, but y'all are distractin' the folks at home."

 

"Catch me if you can!" He barley had time to process the words that suddenly were screamed in his face before he got tapped on the shoulder, in order to spin around and fire a lightning bolt in the air.

Then he gets a stone in his head. Instinctivly he turns around to face the direction from where the stone had sprung and unleashes the full power of his storm in a straight line, blowing up the rocks and blinding himself and his surrounding. Afterwards, the storm fades away and he starts to make his way in order to hopefully find the body of his contestant.

"Is she checking his defenses or trying to make him angry, I'm woundering. I think he put at least half of our cameras out of order with that!"

"That is one angry mage, Rev, it trully is on angry mage..."

"My eyes hurt! What did he do?"

I think he used all the energy in the storm Natascha, if that tells you anything. The sun has returned, but I think that only upset the animals even more.

 

"Fucking ow," Popinjay manages, hauling herself to her feet. The blast had missed her - just - but the shattered rocks and the subsequent fall had hurt. A LOT. And now she was just as pissed as her opponent.

She picks up her glasses and puts them on, an eyebrow twitching as she realises that both lenses are shattered. "That's it. One dead mage, coming up."

Glad to see that the storm has abated, she calls upon her power, wreathing herself in a shield of rippling flame. She walks towards her foe, hands trailing in the air either side of her, tiny strings of fire whipping from her fingers and setting the brush alight.

She hears the howls of the beasts and sighs mentally. Poor sodding animals, talk about a bad place to be caught. On the other hand, she could use that to her advantage.

She walks in the direction of the animals, still trailing flame...

"Aw shit man, it's Korea all over again!"

"Dante's Inferno walks the plains of Africa, ladies and gentlemen! Our resident Flame Fatalle is bringin' a little bit of HELL into the fight!"

"Vhy is she wearink glasses if she is not needing them?"

"It's called an image, Natacha."

 

As he followed the 3 foot wide trail of burnt ground and shattered rock and came across the smoking carcass of a lion.
His first reaction was to just step over it and continue his search for the body, but he changed his mind. He looked around to make sure he wasn't in any immediate danger, and sat down at the dead lion. Hen then started to whisper in the language of the dead, slowly forcing it back to "life".


"Hunt" Was the only word he uttered when the dead lion stood up completely, and the lion responded by slowly leaving the place where it had tied, twitching it's muscles as it moved uncontrollably and unwillingly forward, unable to resist the will of it's new master.

As he stood up he noticed that something was wrong. He then noticed the fire that was starting to spread in his direction from the Pride rock. Then he heard the screams.

Then he noticed the animals. All of them. Hundreds of them, all in pure panic fleeing from the fire. And he stood in the only way they could escape in.

He hastily started to focus his magic, he had mere seconds before the wave of animals would strike him dead. He started to get real pissed at his opponent.

He managed to get a wall of solid rock up just as the wave would have hit him, he could hear the thumps when the animals crashed into a wall that hadn't been there the second prior.

Has he turned to wait for the animals to pass, someone hit him in the head with a stick. That Filthy thief! attacking him from behind, he turned around in anger only to take another hit in the stomach and bend over. furious with anger he stood up, not to find his opponent, but a mere ape with a stick. This only fueled his anger, and at the next strike he was prepared. Gripping the stick with his left hand, he pulled the ape up in the air, putting his palm underneath the monkey and discharge his magic, creating an upward stream and firing the monkey hundreds of feet up in the air.

Slightly satisfied, he continued his search for his opponent.


And that's our Globetrotterus Rex when his angry! I wouldn't wan't to be the one that gets stuck in his hands!


Shit, that ape must be at the same altitude I were when they dropped us behind the enemy lines back in 'Nam. A'int no surviving without parachute!

 

Popinjay makes an expression that can only be described as :-o when an ape splats in front of her. "That's something you don't see every day," she mutters, bending over to examine it, and only that movement saves her from winding up with her head between the jaws of an undead - maybe, it was pretty badly burned - lion. Instead its claws rake across her back, and she falls to all fours from the pain.

She screams in agony and rage, losing control of her flame. Suddenly she is the centre of a whirling tornado of fire, a blazing inferno of wrath. What remains of the lion is obliterated in the brief torrent of death and destruction.

The inferno dies as quickly as it came, and Popinjay is left doubled over and panting, blood oozing down her back and leaving rorschach-like blots across the scorched earth. Her eyes are slightly glazed over, and she's bitten right through her bottom lip.

"Fucking arsehole necromantic evil mother-fucking..." the litany continues for almost a minute, without repetition, although it does trail into a language that makes the ears of any poor sod listening burn. "I'm going to rip out your SOUL!" she finishes with a wild scream, straightening as best she can.

She pulls a few slender throwing knives from the inside of her now very ragged jacket, and takes a long, deep breath. She pops across the field before her opponent, and throws one of the knives before popping off to one side and throwing another. She then pops away into a shadowed alcove away from easy scrutiny, awaiting the result of her deperate rage play.

"..."

"You okay there, Reverand? You're whiter than a KKK member who accidentally walked in on a Black Panthers meeting."

"Huh? *cough* Sorry about that, ladies and gentlemen, I'm just marvellin' at the many blasphemies we've just been subjected to by that spawn of Satan down there."

 

As he follows the trail, the tiefling suddenly appears in front of him, throwing a knife at him and disappear. Still groggy from that ape, he instantly melts the knife in front of him, thinking only on how futile it is.

Then he suddenly feels a sharp burning pain in his right shoulder which instantly clears his mind. He got a fucking knife in his shoulder. That bitch threw a knife at him!

"You fucking bitch! I'll shall remove your soul from existence it self, there shall be nothing left of you anywhere when I done with you!" he shouts out at the nature as he grabs the dagger and pulls it out with an agonizing scream.

His hands starts whirling as he gets up running, screaming chants on different magical languages. Deep down, he realizes that he has lost control of himself, that he has entered what most mages would refer to as "Magical berserk", but this doesn't bother him as much as he thought it would. Instead, as if he had a choice, he follows through. He can feel the blood that pours from the open wound in his shoulder. That's gonna get bad if not taken care of The part of him still unaffected from his berserk thinks.

As he finishes his chanting, the fire starts to spread. It rains down from the clear sky, it spread from his feets in all direction, but his not finished. No, his nowhere near finished. He feels down through the rocks of the mountains, searching for liquid flames. Searching for what will cause the end of this valley. He starts to chant in the language of fire, starts to summon the flames, in order to turn the whole of Pride rock into a big cannon of fire and drown the valley in flames, oblivious to his surroundings.



"That's, alot of fire... I guess he thought that he should fight fire with fire, don't know what good it will do though.


"Yea, I'm just glad I ain't down there. There's more fire down there then it was back in Korea."

"What about all the animals?"


"Don't you worry Natacha, I'm sure most of them are fine."

 

Popinjay chuckles darkly. Apparently she'd succeeded in pissing off her opponent enough to make him snap. But who had been the fool who told him that fighting a tief' with fire was a good idea?

She steps out of the alcove into the inferno, making a sound of feral pleasure as the fire wraps around her and strengthens her natural ability. She ignores the still-bleeding wounds across her back, instead stretching her arms wide and welcoming the raging power into herself.

"This is going to be fun!" she crows, bringing a rippling shield of fire into being around herself with a twitch of her hand. The more powerful the inferno her opponent is conjuring gets, the brighter the shield - and the runes across her body - glows.

She walks calmly and confidently across the field towards her opponent, knives held deceptively casually in one hand. "Come out, come out, wherever you are!" she sings.

"Glowink tattoos are getting prettier!"

"I ain't seen a miscalculation this bad since the Bush Administration decided to invade Iraq!"

"Things here at Pride Rock are really heating up, ladies and gentlemen! The embodiment of Hell is walkin' the earth, an' it looks like her opponent is just fuelling the flames!"

 

"Come out, come out, wherever you are!"

Blinded with rage he can hear the voice of the demon. It Sounds happy.
"NO! I can't allow this! It's now she must die!"
He never realized that he was talking out loud.

He turns around, following the direction of the voice. In his crazed state he calls down the fire from the sky.

Everything shall burn!

Not knowing what's he's doing, he calls down the frozen hell and lets it rain over the battlefield.

There shall be no warmth of life left!

Unable to control himself he summons the rocks in the sky and let them ruin everything they hit.

I Shall crush everything!

Like a true berserk, he summons death and lets it reign all over the area

THERE SHALL BE NOTHING LEFT! This is the storm of Chaos and it shall leave nothing! It shall melt your bones, freeze you mind and crush you soul! You will cease to exist! THIS! IS! MY! FINAL! JUDGEMENT!

He stands in the eye of the storm, always chanting, feeding it, giving it power. Making it grow. And the storm feeds. It feeds on the life, it feeds on the magic, it feeds on everything it can reach. And it grows.
It grows in size. It grows in strength. And it grows in anger.


That is some scary shit. I think that he has lost it.


Snapped. Reminds me of Korea. Some went ballistic and nearly killed an entire platoon on is own before we could take him down.

 

"Holy fuck, the mage has snapped," she manages, chanelling almost all her energy into her shield. Luckily the fire had renewed and strengthened her, or this storm would have been the end of her already. It had been a very long time since she'd seen a storm of chaos...

"So this is how it's going to be, is it?" she asks the mad mage, even though the chances of him actually hearing her over his rant are slim to none. "I never thought I'd be in this position again. Bloody idiot mages... why do none of you ever think to your defence when you lose your tempers?"

With an almost animal scream, she charges at her opponent, pouring as much strength into her shield as she can. Her knives glint coldly in the strange lights of the storm, ready to take the life of the man before her...

"Is this some kind of suicide play? She don't need to condemn herself anymore than she already has!"

"Looks more like an attempt to cut her opponent down before the storm overwhelms her, Rev. Best tactic to use in these circumstances, as was proven by the S.A.S. in the early eighties."

 

Dodging energy left and right, Popinjay races across the torn remnants of the Pride Lands. She leaps over the corpse of what had once been a proud alpha male and lands in a crouch directly in front of her opponent.

"I'll bet there's something your mentor never told you," she says quietly, the soft words echoing eerily against the chaos storm. She pushes upwards with her entire body, a single dagger plunging deep into Pankas' chest. "Pierce the heart of a mage, and he loses his magic."

Even as the mage starts to choke on his own blood, the storm shudders and then vanishes as quickly as it appears. Popinjay catches her foe and lowers him almost gently to the ground, straightening and stretching as the sun shines down on the devastation.

She looks down at the struggling mage, smiling as she pulls off her jacket and folds it neatly, despite the fact that the damage and bloodstains have made it irrepairable. She takes off her glasses and holds them in her hands for a moment, crimson flame flaring for just a moment before she replaces them, lenses whole again.

She sits down next to her fallen foe, patting his head in an almost motherly fashion. "It's a beautiful sky, isn't it?" she asks kindly. "I thought that I'd be kind and let your last sight be something to hold onto in the nightmare that will be your afterlife."

She suddenly yanks the dagger free, and a strange glow follows the path of the blade. She shapes the glow with her hand, until it forms into a spherical crystal the size of a large marble. For a brief instant a hellish scream of agony comes from everywhere at once, unmistakably the voice of her downed victim, and then the sphere becomes real and solid, an ever-swirling crystal dangling from an almost invisible silver chain.

"Hmmm. Chaos. Very nice." She slides the chain over her neck, and the soul gem settles against her chest as she stands and pops away in the direction of the nearest healer.

"A strange end to a strange first match, ladies and gentlemen! Through a maelstrom of unGodly magic and weilding the power o' Hellfire, Poppy 'Popinjay' Jeramiah emerges victorious! Let's hear it for our first winner!"

 

*The crowd goes wild*