Although, I don't really think it would qualify as a "challenge". He'll probably own me.
Anyway, Zesper, I'd like to see what you've got in a one-on-one match. Do you accept?

Eh, I got nothing better to do.
Sure, why not.

...

Oh gawd, oh gawd! My eye! Its burning!

Is the fail too much for you?

Some what, yes.

Meh, once the burning pain stops, it begins to be bearable.

Okay, enough of that.
I'll be using Rattigan.
http://mcleodgaming.com/forums/viewtopi ... =23&t=7909
Any preferences for the fighting grounds?

A clock tower.

And which character shall you use?

I will be using Zesper Valhallen.

This is the link to his bio:
viewtopic.php?f=23&t=10317

Nate, you start way too many fights but never finish them. For shame.

And on that note, kick his a** Zesper.

^I agree with Thaiberium^
No offense to Nate, whatsoever.

Please start, Nate.

Rattigan looked out across the landscape. He could see much from his perch on top of the local clock tower. The view was stunning, but that still couldn’t make up for the fact that it was not where he belonged. He would much have preferred the vista of London to this place. The clock tower itself did little to help. It reminded him to much of Big Ben back home. Ever since the… incident, he had constantly been on the move, migrating from place to place with little rest. He had been gone now for months, but it wasn’t getting any easier. What else could possibly go wrong?...

This fight wouldn't be a challenge. His steel toed boots quickly pushed off the clock hand, and he was off. The night air whisked through his fair brown hair as he descended to the ground. His arm extended for a branch to slow the fall, and he closed it around the limb firmly. He hugged the tree as he slowly made his way down the trunk, in an effort to remain hidden. Jumping the last few feet, he rolled as he collided with the ground, and layed down in the grass. Quickly surveying his surroundings, it was apparent that his target was not anywhere near him. On the clock tower? Perhaps. There wasn't a way to make it back up to the top, however. Standing up, he kicked a pebble in frustration. There was not a way that he could complete his mission at this point.

No. There was surely a way to climb the building. He took a quick glance, to realize that there was a door opening right next to him. He turned the knob, then entered quickly. Stairs? Or the elevator? He would have to choose. For an hour he stood, contemplating the meaning of life, the universe and everything, coming to the exact conclusion of 42. Surely he was smarter than Deep Thought. Maybe this conclusion would allow him to figure out his next move. It would require too much energy to run up forty two flights of stairs, he decided, so he climbed into the agape doors of the electronic elevator. To his great misfortune, the four and two buttons were stuck into the machine by some sort of beverage. The previous riders had been careless. Retrieving his laptop from his back, he pulled up Google and found a Yahoo! Answers page that gave a guide to fix his problem. It was unfortunate that he hadn't carried the screwdriver with him that morning, for he would have to dismantle and clean the interior of the box! An idea struck his mind without warning. He had carried his Samsung Juke with him! Flipping the phone out, he opened the contacts and dialed his wife. She was always up at this hour watching late night movies on the Sci-fi channel. He began to breath heavily. What would befall him if she couldn't get off the couch to pick up the phone? Her weight had been quite an issue lately, and he desperately needed her to bring his toolbox to him. The only noise that met his ears was the default answering machine tone. It appears that he had never gotten around to changing it. That was the least of his problems, though. He had to kill that prick at the top of the tower! That obese lady at home was going to get a talking to tonight. He had no choice, he had to climb the stairs.

The first twenty flights were solid, and he suffered little fatigue as he made his ascent. His surroundings slowly changed as he went up each floor. It was as if he was in a house of magic, for he was surrounded by some strange images. Boxes weren't real, faces were also vases. A groan escaped his lips. He had always hated those optical illusion books his aunt gave to him. Regardless, he kept on climbing, and eventually reached the forty first floor. The illusions had clearly won out. The last set of stairs was upside down, and he was no Spiderman. He had almost completely run out of resources. His laptop connection was zero. The dial-up modem he carried with him had fallen out of his backpack somewhere on the stairs. He remembered his phone, but he was almost out of minutes. If he went over, his phone bill would increase ten-fold! Three minutes were left. It appeared that he had only time for one call. Flipping the device open again, he peered at the banner at the top of the screen. It exclaimed in big letters: WHO YA GONNA CALL? It was at that moment that he realized his only chance. A familiar tune played over in his mind as he opened his contacts again, and skipped to the G section. The green "Send" button had never looked so helpful. He applied pressure slowly, so as to not break the small mobile phone, and it began to ring. Seconds past, and before he knew it, all of his problems were about to be solved. The Ghostbusters team burst in from a nearby window to expel some poltergeist menace. The Proton Packs were quick to warm up, and they pointed the rays at the upside down staircase, while the nerdy one yelled something about not crossing the beams. "What's that? Cross the beams?" the leader exclaimed. He was obviously not very intelligent, for he pulled the stream towards the others, resulting in a light show and explosion that was sure to rattle the minds of any nearby children. The battle was near its conclusion, and the man had almost won. The final staircase had been flipped over, and the team had been killed in the process. Stepping over the bleeding corpses, he poked one with a stick to make sure that it was dead.

Confident that he was the only survivor, he stepped on the face of the last one in his way as he bounded up the stairs to see some loser perched on the top. Aiming his pistol, he fired one shot to the head at the man. It collided with much force, sending blood and gore everywhere, all over the clock tower. The man felt extreme guilt at the sin he had committed; now none of the townsfolk could see the time, there was blood all over it!