NationStates Jolt Archive

The letter reached your home in a very nice, high quality envelope, and amusing stamps. You quickly tore the envelope open, to find a letter printed on thick paper in gold, shiny ink.

Dear Prospective Competitor,

The Marriage of Doom competion will open shortly, and the only way we can select the grooms to be recueing the lovely bride is via a large scale deathmatch prior to the actual game itself. Should you have applied as the bride, you must also under go a similar deathmatch to ensure you are, of course, strong enough to undergo whatever torture the kidnappers give you.

All prospective stars please report to building 325, 5th Street, Imperial City, Fluffywuffy. Be sure to bring your own weapons, armor, or any other thing you would prefer in a giant free for all combat session. Armored vehicles are not allowed, nor or WMD.

Failure to arive will result in disqualification, and a fine of $20 dollars, payable by credit card only, aswell as public humiliation on the end section of our show. We look forward to you and the others arival.

Signed,
Lord Trax
Director of Public Entertainment

P.S. Enclosed are a copy of the rules of the competition proper, in case you lost your last copy of them. Study them well.


[code:1:ab8697002a]
--Wedding of Doom Competition Rules--

1). All weapons must be brought by the competitor, weapons wll not be issued.
2). All WMD, chemical, biological, nuclear, etc. will not be tolerated. Even use of mustard gas is forbidden.
3).You agree that Marriage of Doom or the host, owner, etc. have no liability for all injuries.
4). You agree not to shoot people with sniper rifles, it ruins the fun when you can't even see the person doing the ass-kickery if you only see him when he changes spot. We suggest using fairly large assault rifles or submachine guns.
5). Kill every kidnapper and rescue the bride before she goes insane with torture. If you are the bride, hold off from torture before the groom rescues you.
6).You may issue weapons to your bride after you free her and embarck on your quest to finish the kidnappers off. If she dies, you lose. If you die, she must await another groom. She will be given medical treatment, mental treatment, and then be kidnapped once again.
7). Winning will win you the hand in the bride/grooms marriage and ten million ($10,000,000) dollars cash prize, no tax on it, and the right too move on onto the semi-finals. More details on them later.
[/code:1:ab8697002a]

Back in building 325, Lord Trax and his producers busily prepared the giant circular deathmatch for competitors, fitting areas with booby traps, stationary machine guns, levers. Swinging axes, bottomless pits, and mazes of doom. Ingenious, Lord Trax thought. I'll be damned rich soon enough! The Lord wandered through the arena, trying levers, dodging axes, and firing machine guns to ensure they were all counterable and all working. He grinned at the prospect of bloodshed and impatiently awaited the first group of people to arive.

In the mean time, Lord Trax entertained himself by sending some of his stupider employees through the maze of death, laughing at thier pathetic atempts to get out. One of them tried climbing the maze, only to get mowed down by an automatic machinegun emplacement on the wall. There would be no way to circumvent the maze.

The Lord then turned his attention to the kidnappers. [i]"Everything is ready for you?"

"Yes, my Lord. We've set up in the kidnapper fortress area on the far side-blocked off until the real competition begins-with many cunning death traps and the like. I've had some of the workers for other areas insert hidden entrances for the groom and all, and we don't know of them."

"Most excelent. What sort of defences does the fortress have?"

"A moat, trap doors, gaurds, and a machinegun emplacement just for good measure."

"The groom'll have a hard time getting through there! Excelent work, you can go home for today. Be back tommorow, I expect competitors by then."

"Yes sir."

OOC: Feel free to join as the bride/groom, as you can tell I need people for them. Anyone that joins will, of course, be considered as having gotten in the top area of the deathmatch, RPed out of course, and will get a shot at the rescueing of the bride.

((This is hilarious! Marriage of Doom sounds so cool!))

"I'm bored." Bufoono Bill muttered to himself, hefting his overweight self out of a plush chair. "I wanna go kill something."

With a grunt, he sifted through his meager amount of mail. A very flashy looking letter caught his eye. He ripped the envelope to shreds, and read through the letter. He stumbled back a bit and rubbed one of his five chins as he read through it again.

"By gosh..." He said in a low tone to no one in particular. "There's stuff to kill! A'ight! Let's go, Bussy!"

He nearly tore his centuries-old blunderbuss from it's mounting on the wall, and scampered out the door. A few minutes later, he returned to grab some ammunition. Before long, he was taking up three seats on an express flight to Fluffywuffy.

---

Several hours and a mugging – the mugger didn't have much luck, and Bill was now "missing" a shell – later, Bill stood in front of Building 325. He gazed around rather stupidly before he had a revelation, and opened the door.

"Um...hello?" He asked loudly.

The anxious Lotd Trax opened the double doors of the building, shook hands with Bill and said rather quickly, "Welcome to the Marriage of Doom competition! I take it you will enjoy the competition? And, sir, what is your name?" He looked at the blunderbus on Bill's shoulder with glee. "An antique, no doubt. He might not last long." he muttered under his breath.

Behind him, a mass of some of the lesser competitors moved around the arena, searching for traps, testing strategy, and generaly having fun. Among these was John Ivanovich, a crazy berserker with a giant double sided battleaxe and a rather comical cowboy outfit.

"How ya doin? My name's John, what's yours?

BUMP

Bill looked from the man with the clipped tongue to the cowboy, and back again.

"O' yeah! Mah name's really Mortanthuis, but people call me Bufoono Bill." He said proudly. "Nice tah meet yah, John. Do yah know when the killin' starts?"

He grinned widely, showing a mulitude of rotting or missing teeth. He put his hands akimbo on his grubby, undersized tee-shirt, and stared around, attempting to look menacing.

John nearly laughed out loud at the name Mortanthuis, but he contained his laughter as he thought he could be of some use. Putting on his very negotiative tounge, John spoke in his naturally rough, fast speech. He sounded like a teenage firl, and some of the other fighters had already died of laughter.

"I hear it starts late today or tommorow. Hey, ya wanna partner up? All the other guys are forming groups, ya need a group to go on I guess. Ya wanna? Huh?"

Bill stared at John for a moment. He was used to just pointing his creaky blunderbuss at stuff that moved and pulling the trigger. Never had he actually coöperated with anyone.

"Yeah, sure, I can work with yah. I'll cover yah really good." He told John, swinging his 'buss around randomly.

"Great! Well, we'd better go down to the arena and have a look at the traps 'n' such so we know where to go. I think I found a great spot to hide out and wait for people. It's got this huge swinging axe and a trapdoor in front of it! If they go forward, they get cut if they dont do it right. They die if they go on way by falling. We can easily shoot them or cut them ourselves. I'll show you."

John and his Carth Onasi-esque anoyance motioned for Bill to follow, not stopping until he got Bill to follow. On lookers thought that Bill should have killed him there, but they enjoyed the hilariously mix-matched group.


(OOC: Join people, you are missing out in something that can be quite fun and exciting. Quite differant from normal marriage, terrorist, or war RP that goes on often)

((Exactly. So join now! Free free free!))

Bill followed obediently, but there was something on his mind.

Always one to speak his thoughts, whether he meant to or not, he pondered out loud, "Imma gonna have tah kill yah 'ventually, a'int I, John?"

Swifty read through the letter several times. A "Marriage of Doom" sounded strange to him, but then agian, he had always wanted to be married. He packed only two large SIG Sauer pistols, a saber, and a dangerous assortment of Kung-Fu moves. But he always did have those with him anyways. He also decided to bring some extra firepower:In other words, an Uzi.

He was soon standing in front of building 325. He knocked and entered.

John was frozen. He had never thought about that, and it seemed like he would have to watch his back as well as his front.

"Well.....I 'on't think so. If we do well enough, we make it in the top five and we go on to savin' the ladies. There's a great chance we're gonna make it into the top five, I mean, an axe and a blunderbus, what else can ya ask for? We might have to split ways once we have to save the lady, unless some rule I dont know 'bout."

John eyed the newcomer, and motioned for him to come over.

--------
Lord Trax eyed the newcomer suspciciously, as usual, but responded with the typical welcoming. Eyeing the saber and the pistol holsters, he suspected this one might do fairly better than a redneck with a blunderbus and a retard with an axe. Or those other idiots that brought matches, a lead pipe, and other idiocy. He aproved of this one.

Cap'n Amos Gizzard yipped with glee when he got his note. Living alone on an old creaky boat for 50 years got boring, even the mermaids got ugly by then.
So Cap'n Gizzard gathered his stuff: his good pegleg, his fancy eyepatch, and his shiny hook. He grinned, ever since he was a little boy at St. Brutus's School for The Dangerous to Society he had wanted to be a pirate. So he cut off his right hand and leg, and poked out his right eye. It only hurt until he practicly drowned himself in rum.
He smiled at the birdcage in front of him. Inside it was a small brown teddy bear with buttons for eyes.

"Grrr...Ok Polly, its a'time to go!" He picked up the teddy bear and sat him on his shoulder.

Suddenly he realized he forgot his weapon. He looked around, he couldn't find anything good, so naturally as any sane person would, he looked in the refridgerator. Inside he saw it...his weapon. A three foot long catfish.

He grinned with glee, revealing his toothless mouth. Well, not quite toothless. He had shoved a potato chip into his gum adn proclaimed it a tooth.

He exited his cabin and looked around him. The Nevadah desert. Sure, living in a boat in the middle of the desert pretending that your a pirate seemed like lunacy to most, but Amos knew better. One day he would be the best pirate in the world, like Picasso, or Einstein!

He got onto his bicycle and rode for Fluffywuffy...
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Finally he arrived at the building 325. He knocked on the door with a grin on his face. He was gonna win himself a woman!

Swifty raised his eyebrows as the sight of an odd man in a cowboy outfit waving towards him. Feeling slightly more professionol than the man, as well as the big guy next to him with the blunderbus, he walked next to him. Swifty was suprised to see the man armed only with a dual sided battle axe.

"I'm not sure if thats the best weapon one could have brought," Thought Swifty to himself.

"Hello," Was what came out of his mouth.

OOC: Mikatopia, lmao! I give that a vote for most hilarious charactor. But anyways, this is going to start actual fighting very shortly, so if you want a guy in here, you better hurry and get him in here.

IC:

John looked at Shifty, deciding he was all right, and spoke in his anoying voice.

"Well, hello there! Have a nice trip?""

"It was good enough." Said Swifty. This guy's voice annoyed the hell out of him. "Although i never did like flying much. How goes it with you?"

(OOC: The anoying gets better. Fight in 2 Posts)

IC:

"What business of it of yours that you know how I'm doing? Or're (C) you some type of sex freak or something? My sex life is my own business!"

Based on the rather annoyed look on the newcomer, he decided he'd better stop.

"Well actualy....I'm doing fine I guess. A little anxious for a fight really. Unofficial teams are startin' up, wanna join me and Bill's group?"

Swifty sighed. He hated having to deal with people like these. He perked up at the soudn of an alliance. Although an idiot with an axe and a big guy with a blunderbus might not be his first choice, he decided to accept. Besides, they both looked expendable.

"I accept. Consider me your teamate from now on." Swifty extented his hand to John.

Bill's calloused, greasy hand latched onto Swifty's hand before John could react and shook it firecely.

"Great! I always like tah have some meat between meals!" Bill quipped before pulling his hand away with a loud sucking sound, leaving a grimy film on his teammate's hand. "Jus' kiddin'! I a'int gonna e't yah...yet!"

The gigantic man roared with laughter again, oblivious to the dumbfounded stares of those around him.

uh, un-tag
never-mind

(OOC: Now to begin the brawl)

Just as the heartfelt meeting was going on, the intercom came on, just in time, to quelch the bloodthirst of the fighters.

Attention! Attention! All fighters please report to the arena, the fight is to begin as soon as all fighters are gathered there, you know the drill. Kill everyone in sight, the last standing five people get to advance on to the actual saving, with those who pass that going on to the battle royale for actual marriage. And so now we must show you the woman you can marry, should you win, in the arena.

As the fighters moved to the arena it became fairly evident that there was no escape. Armed gaurds with fairly large assault rifles gaurded all entraces and exits and the walls were fairly high, to keep people from climbing out. Before they walked in the gaurds handed all the fighters a kevlar vest, should they so choose to wear it, and a cupcake.

Walking out from a hidden door came a rather atractive young lady of about twenty, with a fairly rounded, but not too round, body and a nice, pretty face. Her brown hair fluttered around her, and her gleaming blue eyes caught the attention of many of the men there. With an impatient look around, she retreated back into the secret door, to many a yell of disaproval.

The fighters were ordered to wait for a few minutes, to let the announcer finish to the crowd watching the place.

Ladies and gentlemen, boy do we have a show for you! Back from the days were death matches were legal is the show: where many would enter and few emerge. And so I give you this blast from the past, this deja vu, I give you a night of death! Let the fight begin! You have five minutes to find a spot! Go!

As per rules, the fighters were given five minutes before any actual fighting was permitted. During this time they plotted, hid, and did whatever they wanted to do. Many of the people went in search of a dark corner-the lights had been dimmed-to hide in to ambush people as they went on. A few of the braver people stood, weapons ready, in the center. Some of the small alliances remained, but many of them formed up in the darker corners, waiting to ambush the unsuspecting team or person that went by.

John turned to his allies: "Were to now?"

(OOC: Now to begin the brawl)

Just as the heartfelt meeting was going on, the intercom came on, just in time, to quelch the bloodthirst of the fighters.

Attention! Attention! All fighters please report to the arena, the fight is to begin as soon as all fighters are gathered there, you know the drill. Kill everyone in sight, the last standing five people get to advance on to the actual saving, with those who pass that going on to the battle royale for actual marriage. And so now we must show you the woman you can marry, should you win, in the arena.

As the fighters moved to the arena it became fairly evident that there was no escape. Armed gaurds with fairly large assault rifles gaurded all entraces and exits and the walls were fairly high, to keep people from climbing out. Before they walked in the gaurds handed all the fighters a kevlar vest, should they so choose to wear it, and a cupcake.

Walking out from a hidden door came a rather atractive young lady of about twenty, with a fairly rounded, but not too round, body and a nice, pretty face. Her brown hair fluttered around her, and her gleaming blue eyes caught the attention of many of the men there. With an impatient look around, she retreated back into the secret door, to many a yell of disaproval.

The fighters were ordered to wait for a few minutes, to let the announcer finish to the crowd watching the place.

Ladies and gentlemen, boy do we have a show for you! Back from the days were death matches were legal is the show: where many would enter and few emerge. And so I give you this blast from the past, this deja vu, I give you a night of death! Let the fight begin! You have five minutes to find a spot! Go!

As per rules, the fighters were given five minutes before any actual fighting was permitted. During this time they plotted, hid, and did whatever they wanted to do. Many of the people went in search of a dark corner-the lights had been dimmed-to hide in to ambush people as they went on. A few of the braver people stood, weapons ready, in the center. Some of the small alliances remained, but many of them formed up in the darker corners, waiting to ambush the unsuspecting team or person that went by.

John turned to his allies: "Were to now?"

Bill let out a low whistle at the young bride-to-be. He wouldn't mind having a wife like that at all.

"Yah's gotta show us that nice ambushin' place yah found, John! Quick, a'fore we're outta time!" He said urgently.

Swifty checked over the bride. She looked good, he had to admit. Looks were not always everything, however. The intercom soon cut in. He started looking for a place to hide.

"You two go hide somewhere. I think its better if we split up."

He explained his theroy to the two men, both of whom had blank looks on thier faces.

"Simple military tactics. If we get ambushed, we all go down. Divide and conqer, as they say."

With that, Swifty dashed off looking for cover. He found it underneath a dark alcove, where he remained hidden from all but the sharpest eyes.

Bill, or Mortanthuis if you prefer, watched Swifty dash off. He stood there like a rock for a moment, with about as much going through his head as such.

"So...where's that ambushin' spot, John?" He reiterated.

Bill poked John, hoping he would respond soon.

"We're runnin' outta time, yannoe."