I haven't posted in an RP topic for days.
Someone please fight me.

I haven't posted in the RP section since early last month. Please accept my challenge.

WTF?

What?

Why'd you say that?

I want to fight you. Unless you called off the open challenge.

Right, sorry. I just got confused.
Alright, fine. I'll be using Rattigan.
viewtopic.php?f=23&t=7909
Any preferences for location?

Not really. I'll let you pick.
I'll use Creis.
*tries to link* s***, I haven't made a bio for him yet.

Okay, how 'bout a desert?
A battle must be rather interesting when the elements of extreme heat, dehydration, and periodic sandstorms are factored in. Not to mention that the sand would impede movement.

Fine by me. Do you want to begin, or should I?

OOC: I'll begin.

IC:
As Rattigan walked across the sandy ground, he scanned the horizon ahead. Nothing but barren desert as far as the eye could see. He couldn't help but wonder why the hell he was doing this. Leon had said it was some sort of training exercise, but he hadn't really done anything all day. Now it was about noon and, to Rattigan's inconvenience, the hottest part of the day was approaching. Not exactly something he looked forward to. It was hot enough already, and what's worse, he was about to die of thirst, the sand was sucking at his boots, making it a chore just to walk, and he had sand in places he'd rather not mention. Then he thought up an idea that seemed nothing short of genius under the circumstances. He conjured his shield and hefted it above his head, providing a comfortable, if not small, shaded area. He continued walking, a grim expression on his face.

[[Sorry for the delay, had some s*** my mom made me do.]]

Time seemed to stand still as a young man, chestnut hair covering his eyes, grudgingly made his way across the barren wasteland that was this desert. The desert floor grasped and pulled at his feet. His metal boots didn't help this task at all. With each step, he seemed to slow down, getting slower, slower, until he finally stopped. The sun was high, which meant it must be somewhere around noon. That meant it would be hours before the brutal sun subsided. He wiped his brow with his gauntlets, sighing. "Why am I even here?" he thought aloud. His sword hung heavily at his side, the sheath constantly striking his thigh. Reluctantly, he continued on his way. "No matter how many times I think it over, I can't come up with a logical reason as to why I'm here," he muttered. "I was told that the desert would be the hardest endurance test. I'm beginning to think they were right." The sun glared brightly in the center of the sky, cooking Creis alive. His throat was beginning to dry up, croaking his voice.

Any room for one more...?

As the day droned on, Rattigan became more and more isolated from reality. He holed himself up in his own mind as a sort of defense against the merciless heat. Even so, he became vaguely aware of a faint chinking noise, so quiet that he though he might have imagined it. But he didn't. As he looked up, he saw the form of a man in the distance. The image was wavering from the heat, so Rattigan thought it might have been a mirage. But mirages didn't make noise, did they? As he looked at the man, he discovered the source of the noise, something attached to his hip bumping against his leg. It looked like a scabbard. If this man was armed, he was potentially dangerous and should be treated with caution. However, Rattigan was too tired (and thirsty) to care.
"Water..." He croaked, barely managing to get it out. He could only hope that the distant figure heard him.

OOC: Fine with me.

((How about team battles?
Zesper with Nate, Java and Me.
What d'you say?))