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YuGiOh! Turbo Speed Tournament~Started~Need 3 Zons


The Dark Prince

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Grace: what should I do' date=' sir?

[/quote']

 

Lezard: keep security busy anyway you see fit, I will be taking some time, and I can't be interupted mid-duel.

 

 

ooc: it's nearly midnight here, I'm going to bed soon, I'll be back on in the morning, and after my college class, a little after 1 pm.

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The almulet charges up as the souls of several humans collapse. "I have final got enough power to start the first part of the mission." Chris walks to the distance of the entrance of the part. The crystal around the park starts to shatter with the sun creating a illusion which no can escape.

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(Note: Mirage, is was that part still a hallucination during a coma, or is this portion actually happening?)

 

Degas paused again.

'The Dark Signer... His energy grows once more. It comes like the tide, running in, and out like will... a difficult mark to catch, to be sure, but a worthy trophy...

 

He looked around, suddenly aware the hospital was no longer an effective area to be in. It was much too crowded, too close by... were to engage the Dark Signer, he wouldn't be able to utilize a fraction of the power he had at his disposal without bringing the relatively week building onto itself.

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(--Fair enough.)

 

Degas breathed in for a moment, then smirked maniacally. 'Ah... of course. He has awaken. This pitiful building no longer requires my attention, then.

 

He paused for a second, scanning the area. He felt it, a tempest of power in the area... but, where? It felt fuzzy to him, perhaps due to all the nearby Signers intruding upon the signal... he even felt a couple of his own kind in the area, the Zons, but paid them no mind.

 

With an angry whirl, he turned to one of the larger windows in the building, and shoved his sizable fist into it. There was a momentary pulse, invisible to mortals, in the fabric of power, before the window and at least a foot of the surrounding wall were blown away by an unseen force of power, emanating from the Zon's fist.

 

Degas looked out from his makeshift exit, and clenched his fist slightly; the front knuckles on it were raw, although not bleeding. 'I must conserve my energy... but, equally, I must make haste.

 

He leapt through the gap in the wall, despite being a story above the ground, and quickly ran towards the vacillating cyclone of energy he felt; a nearby public park.

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