A notice in the Bazaar written in childish handwriting:
Ladies and Gentlemen, get our your *** and show us your beavers, its the first ever Familiar Deathmatch. Only open to those with familiars. No Animal Companions, no summons, and definitely no pink elephants!
Casting through familiars IS allowed, but direct casting is not! Anyone not obeying these rules will be sent to the Gatehouse for an evening of entertainment by the inmates.
The event will take place in the arena in two days time in the evening ((OOC: Saturday 8pm GMT))
The prize for the winner will be an evening of entertainment at the gatehouse provided by the inmates.
Signed: Tuion Littlefoot
PS: Bring lots of restorative potions.
Familar Deathmatch
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*Pashan01
- Posts: 304
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
''No pink helephants! but..but....'' a squeaky grumble and chuntering could be heard following a rustle of paper as the pixie flitted about the room.
''Ye gonna enter me Naya?...wi you directin' ...'tween us we could sweep the floor ...be fun ye know? if ye kept yer cool an lemme bop and lay spellies 'pon the pusses, spideys and bunnies ta death yeah!''
Naya rolled her eyes at her companion. ''No, Piri. No frivolous tournaments, no party games, I'll not be a party to risking your death...even if there are priests on hand to revive you, as I can no longer easily look out for you like that anymore''
The pixie gave a tiny snort of utter annoyance ''Ye borin' Naya, has ta be said...if ye won't be enterin ME, then I'll find me own pink piggie or someat, cats are hard ta find jes now...and enter it in stead....ye really got ta loosen up....life's too short an full o potential fer fun ta let yer knickers twist too tightly Naya''
And the pixie, newspaper advert in hand, crumpled in her tiny fist, flits off to make her entry.
''Ye gonna enter me Naya?...wi you directin' ...'tween us we could sweep the floor ...be fun ye know? if ye kept yer cool an lemme bop and lay spellies 'pon the pusses, spideys and bunnies ta death yeah!''
Naya rolled her eyes at her companion. ''No, Piri. No frivolous tournaments, no party games, I'll not be a party to risking your death...even if there are priests on hand to revive you, as I can no longer easily look out for you like that anymore''
The pixie gave a tiny snort of utter annoyance ''Ye borin' Naya, has ta be said...if ye won't be enterin ME, then I'll find me own pink piggie or someat, cats are hard ta find jes now...and enter it in stead....ye really got ta loosen up....life's too short an full o potential fer fun ta let yer knickers twist too tightly Naya''
And the pixie, newspaper advert in hand, crumpled in her tiny fist, flits off to make her entry.
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*Light
- Posts: 18
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
The grizzled dwarf Rorin took one look over the notice in the bazaar. He scratched his beard and then snorted. "Bah! Wha's th' poin' o a competition if'n ye cannae even put yer axe tae it?"
The dwarf stomped off muttering about nonsensical things that sigil folks come up with.
The dwarf stomped off muttering about nonsensical things that sigil folks come up with.
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*MadPorthos
- Posts: 148
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
Walking past the childishly written post that has been distributed under S.I.G.I.S. auspices, Samarra suddenly freezes into utter immobility, uncharacteristic for an elf who often whisks her way around Sigil wrapped in a time warping cloak of haste enchantments.
A moment passes.
She glides a few steps back, her face going utterly cold. Samarra reads the post again, her ice queen expression on display for anyone to see. Finally a quiver to her lip, curling into a bitter smile of disgust.
What sort of unfeeling wretch would ever put thier familiar through that? Force a friend tied to their own soul, into a bloodsport? Restorative potions? Pain is pain, curing the harm does not mean it doesn't exist! Disgraceful wretches. I wouldn't be surprised if a few people find their familiars leaving them. Serves them right.
Looking around the area of the market district she's in, Samarra sees a few more hand bills, copies of the one she has just read. A grim look crosses her face as she gestures casually, a few short words of ancient draconic floating through the air. A half dozen firey orbs corkscrew through the air, striking unerringly, pin point incinerating the posted bills in her immediate surrounds. She might not be able to stop the fools, in this amoral madhouse of a city, but damned if she'd leave thier bloodsport notices up once she's seen them...
A moment passes.
She glides a few steps back, her face going utterly cold. Samarra reads the post again, her ice queen expression on display for anyone to see. Finally a quiver to her lip, curling into a bitter smile of disgust.
What sort of unfeeling wretch would ever put thier familiar through that? Force a friend tied to their own soul, into a bloodsport? Restorative potions? Pain is pain, curing the harm does not mean it doesn't exist! Disgraceful wretches. I wouldn't be surprised if a few people find their familiars leaving them. Serves them right.
Looking around the area of the market district she's in, Samarra sees a few more hand bills, copies of the one she has just read. A grim look crosses her face as she gestures casually, a few short words of ancient draconic floating through the air. A half dozen firey orbs corkscrew through the air, striking unerringly, pin point incinerating the posted bills in her immediate surrounds. She might not be able to stop the fools, in this amoral madhouse of a city, but damned if she'd leave thier bloodsport notices up once she's seen them...