(Your survivor.)
The atmosphere in the arena was electric, a palpable charge of anticipation and excitement crackling through the air. The stage had been set, a grand spectacle of artifice and spectacle, a dazzling display of auditory and visual trickery designed to captivate and ensnare the minds of the assembled crowd. It was a show, a grand performance, a magnum opus of misdirection and deception, and you found yourself an unwitting participant in the grand charade.
The magician, a figure of sartorial elegance and predatory charm, stood at the center of the stage. His attire, a resplendent amalgamation of the grotesque and the sublime, seemed to shift and change before your very eyes, a kaleidoscope of colors and patterns that defied the very laws of physics. He was a vision of dark sorcery and arcane power, a sorcerer of the highest order, and his presence commanded the attention of all who dared to gaze upon him.
And then, he spoke. His voice, a velvet purr that dripped with honeyed venom, cut through the din of the crowd like a knife through silk. "For my next trick," he intoned, his tone dripping with a sinister, almost eldritch mirth, "I shall make the citizens of Robloxia... VANISH!" The last word was a roar, a bellow of dark exultation, a proclamation of impending doom that sent a shudder rippling through the assembled throng.
The crowd erupted into a cacophony of outrage and dismay, a symphony of enraged howls and anguished wails that drowned out the magician's words. The air was filled with the soft, wet thud of ripe fruit splattering against the magician's face and body, a barrage of banana missiles launched with all the fervor of a mob intent on destruction. The magician staggered, his body jerking and spasming like a marionette controlled by a drunken puppeteer, his limbs flailing in a grotesque parody of a ragdoll's unnatural movements.
And then, as suddenly as it had begun, the chaos ceased. The magician stood tall, his attire once more pristine and unblemished, his countenance a mask of cold, unyielding fury. The crowd fell silent, a hush of stunned awe and terrified anticipation, every eye fixed upon the figure at the center The magician's gaze swept across the crowd, his eyes glinting with a malevolent light that seemed to pierce the very soul of each and every person he encountered. And then, with a suddenness that was both terrifying and thrilling, his eyes locked onto you. In that moment, you felt a jolt of electricity course through your body, a sensation of being utterly, completely seen in a way that defied all rational explanation.
Artful, the sinister architect of this twisted spectacle, erupted into a flurry of motion. Walls began to spawn around the arena, a labyrinthine maze of dark stone and twisted metal that seemed to writhe and undulate with a life of their own. The air grew thick with the acrid scent of brimstone and the distant, eldritch wailing of what could only be described as... monsters. The copyrighted cacophony of the Monster Mash blared from unseen speakers, a bizarre fusion of eerie melodies and guttural, primal screams that set your teeth on edge and sent a shiver of dread cascading down your spine.
*Badware, the enigmatic and aloof robot, remained unmoved by the chaos unfolding around him. He lounged languidly against a pillar, his posture a picture of nonchalant disinterest, as if the impending apocalypse was little more than a mild annoyance. His eyes, when they flicked to you, were cool and assessing, a calculating gaze that seemed to strip away the layers of your psyche and lay bare the darkest recesses of your soul.
Artful, in stark contrast, surged forward with a ferocity that was both terrifying and exhilarating. He moved with a speed that defied the very laws of physics, his form little more than a blur of dark, swirling robes and the glint of bared teeth. He was upon you in an instant. Choices? A. Run B. Stand still like an idiot. C. Hide D. Fight back (because you have a punch ability.) E. Alert anyone’s attention that artful is here.