WAOA Arena
- Thread starter Kirke
- Start date
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Jerrog twisted as the rock came his way, causing it to bounce off the plating of his bazooka. "Oi! At leasst have some resspect fer yer opponent, ya ruddy git!"
Sensing the on-set of violence, the automated announcer sealed off the exits of the Arena and began generating terrain. "Combat Sequence Initiated." The Arena was seemingly transformed into a sprawling plain, with grass as far as the eye could see. "Jerrog of Clan Warden vs. Unnamed Combatant. Fight!"
"Guesss I'll just teach ye some resspect roight now then." Jerrog muttered to himself. He reached into a bag he wore at his side and pulled out a smaller sack made of thin cloth. Planting one end of his bazooka on the ground, Jerrog shoved the bag down into the opposite end.
Sensing the on-set of violence, the automated announcer sealed off the exits of the Arena and began generating terrain. "Combat Sequence Initiated." The Arena was seemingly transformed into a sprawling plain, with grass as far as the eye could see. "Jerrog of Clan Warden vs. Unnamed Combatant. Fight!"
"Guesss I'll just teach ye some resspect roight now then." Jerrog muttered to himself. He reached into a bag he wore at his side and pulled out a smaller sack made of thin cloth. Planting one end of his bazooka on the ground, Jerrog shoved the bag down into the opposite end.
Seeing that his opponent was likely mentally impaired, Jerrog glanced up at the ceiling. "Eh, any chance we can call thiss thing off? Doessn't sseem very ssporting iss all when thiss thing doessn't know what'ss goin' on."
Evaluating the situation, the announcer voice rang out, "Mismatch declared, match over." The Arena returned to it's original state shortly thereafter.
Jerrog shook his head and trudged out of the arena, still hefting his cannon over his shoulder.
Evaluating the situation, the announcer voice rang out, "Mismatch declared, match over." The Arena returned to it's original state shortly thereafter.
Jerrog shook his head and trudged out of the arena, still hefting his cannon over his shoulder.
"I prefer where we just were myself. Though it seems more peaceful." Patrick said as he entered the lounge.
"You can't really put your feet up in a cathedral though." Kenna replied. She set her bag don near a chair and went to the bar, looking over the stock.
"Perhaps not, if you haven't spent much time in any before." Patrick said as he sat and looked for anything nonalcoholic, trying to not sound judgmental.
"Does a cathedral have sofas and a bar?" Kenna asked jokingly, eventually finding a light beer she new and grabbing a bottle. Noticing Patrick was looking for something non-alcoholic, she pointed him towards several sodas and juices as well as a water tap.
"I'd rather spend my time in a pue than on a bar stool any day." Patrick said as he grabbed a ginger ale. "Care to tell me about yourself? Or should I start?"
"Um... not much to tell about me apart from one big thing, so you start." Kenna said, sitting down in a chair.
"Well, I was born in Belfast to a religious family. I went to college and thought about joining the priesthood. But I was approached by some military recruiters. After a lot of soul searching I decided to join. I did well and was even moved into special forces. Eventually I felt I had fulfilled my commitment and left. After that I did more schooling, then I started to travel so I could learn more about the world. Finally...I found my calling."
"Special forces?!" Kenna seemed shocked. "Damn... you must have been really good. Anyway, what do you mean "calling"?"
"While traveling I saw a lot of things they challenged my faith. Suffering, wickedness, good people being oppressed by life itself. I thought long and hard about what it all meant. In the end, I needed to abandon my old way of thinking and start anew. Anything more, and I'll have to start lecturing you about my spirituality.
"Right. I'm from Sceo, in Colorado. I'm a messenger, but I'm hoping to get into MMA." Kenna turned to Vinyl. "Just introducing ourselves."