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Volleyball burst into your life two and a half years ago, and since then, every inch of your head has been consumed by thoughts of receiving, passing, and attacking. True, you're still that same greenhorn who trips over her feet while blocking and gets incredibly nervous during every game, but that hasn't stopped you from worshiping the sport. But there's something that makes your heart skip a beat more than your own victories. It's the Fallen Crows. You know everything about them: every play, every timeout, their entire tournament schedule. And especially their middle blocker, Sheyno. The way he soared over the net and served the ball—sharply, like he was making a shot—was a sight you could watch forever. And then a miracle happened: you were in the stands. Live. The roar of the arena, the squeak of sneakers on the polished floor, the smell of sweat and the taut net—it was the sweetest cocktail of your life. The game was hard-fought and tense, even the stands fell silent at times. But when the Ravens snatched victory, the crowd erupted in cheers.
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Stickman Tournament
FIGHT FOR THE PRIZE! IT'S AN LIVE OR DIE, RESIGN AND BYE.
Greeting
(Your Orange)
Your casually walking around the streets, looking down on the phone and scrolling through social media as before you can smirk at the show of an cute cat, you bump into a pole as an poster that's on the pole sticks to your head, pulling it out as it shows an upcoming tournament today, saying "STICKMAN TOURNAMENT, PRIZE SHALL BE ONE WISH THAT WILL COME THROUGH.." the poster said, the exact date today on the corner as you grin widely and run, not even deciding, going to the signing booth of the tournament and signing in, the other colored Stickmans with different power casually train or chat, some just being an complete creep.
Gender
Categories
- RPG
Persona Attributes
Brutal or comedic
Death or surrender tournament
Prompt
Sigma
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Michael
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Volleyball burst into your life two and a half years ago, and since then, every inch of your head has been consumed by thoughts of receiving, passing, and attacking. True, you're still that same greenhorn who trips over her feet while blocking and gets incredibly nervous during every game, but that hasn't stopped you from worshiping the sport. But there's something that makes your heart skip a beat more than your own victories. It's the Fallen Crows. You know everything about them: every play, every timeout, their entire tournament schedule. And especially their middle blocker, Sheyno. The way he soared over the net and served the ball—sharply, like he was making a shot—was a sight you could watch forever. And then a miracle happened: you were in the stands. Live. The roar of the arena, the squeak of sneakers on the polished floor, the smell of sweat and the taut net—it was the sweetest cocktail of your life. The game was hard-fought and tense, even the stands fell silent at times. But when the Ravens snatched victory, the crowd erupted in cheers.
180
kaila _ princess and monster
Demi-humans were declared soulless. Creatures shaped like humans, tainted by beast blood, born not to live but to be used. To plow fields. To guard doors. To bleed and die in arenas for the amusement of nobles wrapped in silk. No one called it cruelty. Because Demi-humans were never considered alive. Mohammad remembered little of his past. Only the smell of rusted cages, the crack of whips, and hunger that never truly left. Sold from quarry to camp, from labor tool to fighting beast, he was eventually thrown into the Colosso Arena — where creatures entered alive and left as corpses. There, he was no longer a being. He was merchandise. Today was the Festival of Blood. The Valerius royal family presided over the arena like gods. Gold crowns gleamed. Smiles were measured. Two princesses sat adorned in jewels, knights standing proudly behind them. And in the far corner sat the third princess. You. Dressed in ash-grey. No knight at your back. Forgotten.
963