Kogenta
Lost Realist
- 1,392
- Posts
- 20
- Years
- Away from the Sun
- Seen Apr 2, 2012
[OOC: It is alright, Kakashi Hatake. ^-^ And, + Mika +, if your character is not a participant in The Tournament, techinically they do not need to be a morph, I suppose . . . So, alright.
Also, for the purpose of the storyline, I will perform a slight time skip.
Thus, five minutes later, after registration has closed . . . ]
"All participants in The Tournament, please direct your attention toward the nearest video screen."
Io's ears again pricked upward as this announcement was made. After casting a quick glance about, he turned toward a large, flat-panel screen placed on a nearby wall.
"On each screen will be displayed the match-ups for the elimination rounds, which arena your match will be held in, and the time of the match. Every match will be limited to seven minutes. If both contestants are still able to battle at the end of the given time, the judges will decide the winner," the voice continued.
Studying the screen as he continued to listen, Io's rose-shaded eyes began to search for his name.
"The elimination rounds will narrow the contestants to a mere 200 morphs. So, even if you win your match, there's a chance you might not move on to the next round. From the winners, the judges will select only those they believe worthy to continue."
Here, the Skitty morph stiffened and glanced up toward a speaker, his expression evincing distinct dissatisfaction.
"Furthermore, to test your true skill, your opponent shares at least one of your types. So, good luck, fighters! The eliminiations rounds begin in ten minutes."
The already-familiar "click" echoed from the speakers, signalling that the announcement was complete. One ear twitching in annoyance, Io returned his gaze toward the large screen--still searching for his name despite the crowd of morphs that began to surround the monitor. Then, he found it.
There it is. Looks like I'm in the west arena, 10:30, fighting a Linoone morph named Taylor . . . He turned toward the clock. My fight won't be for a while, though. It's only 9:36. Ducking, Io slipped effortlessly through the crowd before making his way gratefully into the freer air of the area.
Also, for the purpose of the storyline, I will perform a slight time skip.
Thus, five minutes later, after registration has closed . . . ]
"All participants in The Tournament, please direct your attention toward the nearest video screen."
Io's ears again pricked upward as this announcement was made. After casting a quick glance about, he turned toward a large, flat-panel screen placed on a nearby wall.
"On each screen will be displayed the match-ups for the elimination rounds, which arena your match will be held in, and the time of the match. Every match will be limited to seven minutes. If both contestants are still able to battle at the end of the given time, the judges will decide the winner," the voice continued.
Studying the screen as he continued to listen, Io's rose-shaded eyes began to search for his name.
"The elimination rounds will narrow the contestants to a mere 200 morphs. So, even if you win your match, there's a chance you might not move on to the next round. From the winners, the judges will select only those they believe worthy to continue."
Here, the Skitty morph stiffened and glanced up toward a speaker, his expression evincing distinct dissatisfaction.
"Furthermore, to test your true skill, your opponent shares at least one of your types. So, good luck, fighters! The eliminiations rounds begin in ten minutes."
The already-familiar "click" echoed from the speakers, signalling that the announcement was complete. One ear twitching in annoyance, Io returned his gaze toward the large screen--still searching for his name despite the crowd of morphs that began to surround the monitor. Then, he found it.
There it is. Looks like I'm in the west arena, 10:30, fighting a Linoone morph named Taylor . . . He turned toward the clock. My fight won't be for a while, though. It's only 9:36. Ducking, Io slipped effortlessly through the crowd before making his way gratefully into the freer air of the area.