NyNES Preview: Carnival of Pen and Sword

Would there be certain restrictions? Example would be pitting someone who was in the US Special forces against a caveman. :p

But reading through the first two descriptions are we to assume that guns and bazooka's are banned or will they face off against someone who is in the same category?
 
Would their be certain restrictions? Example would be pitting someone who was in the US Special forces against a caveman. :p

But reading through the first two descriptions are we to assume that guns and bazooka's are banned or will they face off against someone who is in the same category?

EDIT: Yeah, Kraz pretty much summed it up. Create who you like.
 
If you want it, the job is yours :) I'll be sending some additional info later, but it's fairly straightforward and shouldn't take too much of your time.





Great stories guys! I can see variety already, and these are just long enough to give your first round opponent an idea of who they are writing about without being a hassle to write.



As long as either you are the creator of the character or (if not) the creator gave you the ok, then that's fine with me!

Well, I'm the creator, so it's all good. It just sucks that Benthuri was pretty impracticle in the NES he was in (No armor or weapons). However, this NES will probably favor a Jiefin, seeing as how stats won't restrict his ridiculous strength. (I plan on him breaking various things with his forehead)
 
Germanicus Octavian Caesar, or Germanicus for short, breathed deeply and clutched his sword, his muscles rippling down his arms every time he squeezed the hilt. Nearby stood his large shield and helmet decorated with a red plume and should one glance away from the red plume and look at the gold notches on his helmet, they would count 48 of them, each notch representing a kill. Without his helmet, the man was still a difficult one to look at, his eyes would penetrate the very soul and pierce your heart. His face and chest are filled with scars from battles and even a few missing fingers could be noticed. Without question this man knew how to fight and his opponents knew it.

As he prepares to enter this strange island, Germanicus breathed and put on his clothes and armor, then tied his sword around his waist before picking up his helmet and placing it on his head, finally he grabbed his shield and entered, with the words, "We who are about to fight, salute you." circling around his head.
 
OOC: Are we stepping into the areana already? I thought we had to wait until the matches were all set up and stuff. Like right now I just have Jiefin just sitting next to the arena, waiting for the matches to be announced.
 
I am just entering the Island, not the Arena since I figured I had to wait for a match before entering the arena.
 
OOC: Are we stepping into the areana already? I thought we had to wait until the matches were all set up and stuff. Like right now I just have Jiefin just sitting next to the arena, waiting for the matches to be announced.

The entire park grounds is the "arena" (roller coasters, ferris wheel, gravitron, etc.), and so long as no combat with other player characters takes place before the first round, it's fine.
 
Sitting at the door of the barber shop Nolan hears a conversation between his mother and Charles the barber.
"So I hear your son is playing in the games".
"Charles normally i would tell you not tp listen to the gossip that permeates your shop but... My son has changed, Since the war... AND THOSE DAMN CHEMICALS!!! I.. You might be right, no your probably right. I just hope nothing bad happens to him".
"Marla if its any help.. I've seen what your son is capable of, if anyone can survive in that hellhole its Nolan".
Nolan decides that now it is time to make his entry and busts through the door of the barber shop sporting a bag of Syringes, what looks to be a cannon surrounding his arm and the eeriest smile a man has ever made in that little coastle town he says in subdued voice.
"Mother im going to the carnival"


Hope the story is satisfying.

Character:Nolan Hasbeeue
 
Sitting at the door of the barber shop Nolan hears a conversation between his mother and Charles the barber.
"So I hear your son is playing in the games".
"Charles normally i would tell you not tp listen to the gossip that permeates your shop but... My son has changed, Since the war... AND THOSE DAMN CHEMICALS!!! I.. You might be right, no your probably right. I just hope nothing bad happens to him".
"Marla if its any help.. I've seen what your son is capable of, if anyone can survive in that hellhole its Nolan".
Nolan decides that now it is time to make his entry and busts through the door of the barber shop sporting a bag of Syringes, what looks to be a cannon surrounding his arm and the eeriest smile a man has ever made in that little coastle town he says in subdued voice.
"Mother im going to the carnival"


Hope the story is satisfying.

Character:Nolan Hasbeeue

Interesting...I'll be looking forward to what he can do :goodjob:
 
Hopefully he wont be knocked off in the first round, but hey i'm thinking this will be successful enough for multiple tournaments in different locations.
 
Hmmm.... interesting. I always like stories, and I've been pondering about expanding my interests to more than just FFHNES's. I'll have to consider this.

You say that I can re-use characters from other NES's so long as they're my creation? I probably won't actually do that since I enjoy creating new characters anyway, but a couple of my previous attempts would be quite interesting to use within this.
 
"So Boulder, what did you want to tell me?" Jiefin spoke out loud in the tent. Dead silence followed. "Hehe, good one Boulder! You tell the funniest jokes! But come old friend, I have rested long enough!" Jiefin gave a hearty laughed, stood up, hefted the boulder on his shoulder, and then walked out of the tent.

Jiefin looked around, eyeing a tall device in the distance. Could it be? The legendary devices rumored to be built by the people who dwell beneath the mountains? A strength tester! Jiefin put his boulder on the ground and began sprinting towards the device. A massive cloud of dust followed his trail as he ran with glee. Making a fist, he leapt into the air, preparing to strike. With a loud crash his fist connected with the device, hitting it right on target.

Ding.

Jiefin was amazed. How could something so simple be so amazing.

Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding.

For many minutes he hit it over and over again, laughing each time he rang the bell. He never imagined having this much fun before the fights. If only he had another person to compare their strength to his. Wait a second! There was1

"Boulder!" Jiefin shouted. "It is time you tested your great might against mine! Come now!"

Jiefin picked up the boulder and hurled it at the strength tester. Landing right on target, it caused the bell to ring. But with continued momentum, it leaned on the device. With a crash it tipped over, its rusty peices erradicated by Jiefin's assault.

"Look what you did Boulder!" Jiefin stood there, waiting for a response. "That's what you always say Boulder. Now let's hurry up and get out of here. We don't need to be drawing unnecessary attention with you breaking things!"
 
Interested.
 
Heh, like I'd ever stand a chance against people who speak it :undecide:

Anyways, I'll jump in. I guess you have DeviantArt Nylan? I'm participating in another OC tourney in there as well. :p

Story coming up.
 
I reviewed the case file in his mind. Subject, real name unknown, was a serial killer that the media had dubbed "Anesthesia." Female, psychology currently unknown. It had been estimated that she had killed in excess of 30 elderly individuals while posing as a nurse, her favored method being an overdose of painkillers. Nothing else was known about her, save a rough idea of how she looked, and that she had, apparently, dropped off the map over a year ago, and had committed not one murder since.

Until yesterday, of course. A large number of corpses had been discovered during a police raid on a house in one of the suburbs. It would probably take weeks to discover how many people had died there, and even longer to ensure proper identification. One victim had survived, pinned to the wall through the use of several knives. He had provided positive identification of the killer as Anesthesia.

It was my job to connect everything, to figure out what had happened. But that was for later. Right now, I was simply returning to the station with a fresh pot of coffee from across the street. Whoever ran that coffee shop certainly knew how to pick the right location. And there was the door. Time to get back to work.

I hesitated outside the door. I smelled gas, more even than could come from a leak in one of the pipes. I put the pot on the ground and pulled out my gun, just to be safe. I opened the door, and saw that the lights were off. It was certainly odd. I stepped back a few paces, and let my eyes adjust.

I realized than that I was right. There was gas, almost an inch of it on the floor, now spilling slightly out onto the steps. That probably meant trouble. I was used to trouble, though. I holstered my gun and pulled out my handkerchief. Using it to cover my mouth and nose I started on forward.

I immediately recognized doors that shouldn't be closed. I opened one, found nothing. Another, nothing. Another, nothing. It was behind the fourth door that I found what I should not have.

The large room had housed the main offices of the police station. Hardly anything was left standing, and even fewer things lacked a dressing of blood, be it a few bright red speckles or a thick coat of gore. Even worse were the corpses. Each had been thoroughly mutilated in such a way as to allow for life to continue; they had obviously been tortured, although I could not understand how anyone had the time to be so thorough while I was gone. The killing blow was, in each case, a knife blow to the heart. I could tell; the knives were still there.

I knew that this was the work of Anesthesia. It was only when my eyes adjusted, however, that I noticed the woman in the corner of the room. She could be Anesthesia. Her hair and eyes could have been brown, she could have been nondescript, with an innately friendly demeanor, but for now it was impossible to tell. I wasn't thinking straight, and she was covered in the blood of my friends. I was going to make her pay. I raised my gun, and walked closer to ensure a proper hit.

I heard laughter, then, as I approached. Genuine, heartfelt laughter, as though I had just told my intended victim one of my funniest jokes. She looked at me, and she smiled. I felt astonished that she could do that, in her situation.

I am not sure what happened, but the next moment was nothing but pain. Even my senses retracted within my skull, hiding and waiting for the feeling to pass. It lasted only for a moment, but when I regained my senses, my gun was gone and she was behind me, a knife pricking the back portion of my right ear. She was still laughing, and continued when she cut the ear off.

I knew I should have screamed, but I felt nothing but a pleasant sort of tingling sensation. It was as though the pain was leaving my body before my brain had time to process it. It was only for a moment, though, and then my entire body was wracked as it had never been before, worse than anything I had ever felt, multiples heaped upon multiples.

When I regained my senses, I was on the floor, pinned to my location by a trio of knives. I felt nothing again, that curious sensation as it had been before. And she began to talk.

"They told me you would be back. Such good friends, aren't they, that they knew what you were doing?" She waited for an answer, but I could not find it within my capacity to give one.

"Regardless, I'm going to take my time with you. It's my birthday, after all, and this is my present. One I made for myself, but those are always the most worthwhile, don't you think?" She waited again for a response. When she was given none, she gave a slight frown, the first time she had stopped smiling since I had met her. Then she began her work.

----

"Well, that was fun," Anesthesia said out loud. She had adopted that particular name when she had first heard it. Better if none ever discovered her real one.

"A necessary step, as well," she said. She began to walk out of the police station, drawing a book of matches from one of her pockets. She had found some old police uniforms in the basement, but they had needed modifications before she could fit everything she needed into one. The sword, especially, had been difficult to fit.

"Well, it is my birthday. I can do what I want," she said, still aloud, and still with no one around. She thought it was her oddest habit. Other people, doubtless, would not agree. But they didn't know her very well at all, did they? She lit a match, and continued walking. As she moved out of the doorway, she let the match drop, flared pain in a nearby pedestrian, and crossed the street in a nearly instantaneous burst of speed.

"Now all I need to do to complete my birthday is a wish. And to think that all I have to do is blow out a few candles." She kept walking down the street, humming a tune and smiling softly to herself.

----

OOC: Hopefully it's not too bad. I haven't had time to do much touching up on it.

I would also like to suggest that everyone write a little bit of fighting sequence for their character in preparation for the first round. I can't really determine how someone else's character fights simply from a description of what they look like, or what weapons they possess.
 
The breeze was light in between the tall trees of the forest, the clouds softly floating above in the sky; it was a hot, damp day, rain just having falled from the skies. A narrow dirt path curved in between the upstanding logs and the bushes, and in the distance a low grating noise could be heard. An ox-driven wagon was carefully being pulled along the path. The driver, Mr. Hickles, calmly sat on the front of the strawladden cart, holding his whip tightly. It had been a long day; the ox had been bullheaded back when they crossing the small creek. He had to carry most of the straw himself before the ox felt the cart was light enough to be carried over. And that was difficult since Mr. Hickles was an older man, after all, his bald head was covered by a broad hat of straw.

The hour passed past noon as the sun slowly began creating shades instead of lightening the shadows. The soft wind had faded; instead, now a silent whisper of footsteps through leaves could be heard. Somewhere inside the bushes someone was walking slowly. The twigs were pushed aside, and out went a skinny man with clinching eyes. He waited, his clothes slightly resembling those of a scarecrow's, but somehow not; his right hand tightly clenching a metallic instrument. On the path before him, an ox-driven wagon was slowly moving between the leaf-clad trees. The man made his way through the sticks and leaves before standing beside the ox cart.

Mr. Hickles turned his head and looked at the newcomer with big eyes; he was a very small man in raggy clothes; his eyes were narrow and his small mouth was smiling at him. However, his appearance was a little macabre; his proportions left his head way too big while his arms were too long and his stomach too small. On the top of this, his forehead was hidden by his pale white hair, and he had some kind of a metallic tool in his hand; it resembled a flute.

"Hi mister," the man said to Mr. Hickles in a plain voice, "Can I come ride on your oxen cart?"
Mr. Hickles raised his eyebrows. "Sure ye can, young lad. Jumpin' aboard."
The stranger shortly jumped, taking a number of steps before clinging himself to the wagon, seating himself at Mr. Hickles' side. They sat like that for some time, staring ahead with the slowly pulling ox.
"Where'ye goin' lad?" Hickles asked.
"I am on my way to Carnivale," the reply sounded.
'Oh,' The old man thought for himself. 'So he is one of them.'
"Yer goin' to fight in that arena fer that wish I s'pose?" Hickles said.
"Exactly, old man," the stranger said, "I hope for the best for myself. Are you going there?"
"Yep lad," Mr. Hickles answered, "I'm the pers' they got fer the dang halm."
"Halm?"
"Ye, ye know, straw. Fer the horsies. If them fighters have horsies."

For another moment, they both sat in silence. The stranger looked at the roadside for a moment, thinking about something. Then he looked back at the old man.
"Can I have a fresh, tasty straw?"
"Sure ye can, just move yeself back in the cart and pick yeself one good and fresh."
The stranger leaned himself backwards and took a long spring-green one before putting it into his mouth and beginning to chew.
"What is your name, old man?" the stranger asked.
"Oh, it depends on who ye ask, lad," Mr. Hickles answered, "But my neighbers name me Ol' Man Hickles, or Strawman Hickles. Err, ye might say I'm the strawman of my villag'."
"So you are simply a merchant of straw?" the stranger asked, his eyes opening a little.
"Ye, lad. Somebod' has ter do them dirty works," Mr. Hickles said, "What's yer name, yengster?"
"Tok-tok," the fighter said, smiling.
"Well, Tok-terk, I'll berrow ye my strawhat, I hope fer ye to get yer wish!"

And they moved forward slowly, Tok-tok having his head clad in his new hat of straw, his mouth smiling happily with a long, tasty straw.
 
This pleases me. :smug:

EDIT: The full thread will be up this weekend, but I intend to wait a little longer before starting Round 1 for signup purposes.
 
I know many things about the past; I remember much of it. I remember my home village set deep in the mountains, known as the Zagros Mountains now, I knew them as home. I remember watching the shadows play and fight their little games and battles on the valley walls as the sun set and playing the same silly games with my friends and siblings the next day. Now that valley has changed beyond recognition; the village crumbled to dust and its people long, long dead. Bar me. I remember the march of many an army, the rise and fall of many nations. I am ancient. "Enough of the past. I have a tournament to win," and I strode off into the sunset heading for the Carnivale.

A few miles from the Carnivale I ran into some trouble, this may seem normal considering I wear the body of a middle-aged business man, but I had masked my presence. Nothing should be able to see me. Still I have the most powerful weapon any human can possess so I am not worried. The thugs close in on me, each one a mountain. The thug leader, Mount Everest as I liked to thing of him, pulled a gun. Before he even made his first demand he shot each of his companions then turned the gun on himself. None of the wounds would be fatal and the emergency services were already on their way. I left. I thought out loud "I wonder if anyone there will actually be able to rival my mind. Life is getting boring now people are getting dumber. I mean those thugs were so dumb they actually managed to see though my perception filter. Dogs and cats can't see through the bloody thing! How on Earth did they mange it?! I shall have to set the parameters lower again." I sighed "I didn't think we could get any dumber." I entered the Carnivale grounds.

OOC notes: My character is called Cabera and has a sword to back up his 'weapon'. He appears to be a middle-aged business man but he is actually over 2000 years old. He has survived by... Well if you figure out what his weapon is you can figure out how he has lived so long.
 
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