Epic Rap Battles of Marrach - Flyting Contest

The Flyting Contest held by the Unity was so much fun! I just wanted to share it with you all!

Participants:
Sigrun
Vasilisa
Cordon
Rikka
Aleysia

Bracket: (Randomly generated)
1. Rikka vs Aleysia
2. Vasilisa vs Cordon
3. Sigrun vs Aleysia
4. Cordon and Sigrun

All in good fun and the winners were voted on by the room for each bout.

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Rikka starts now, "Aleysia, Aleysia, No one wants to kiss ya! With a face like that and your breath so mean, we might as well call you a wolverine!"

Aleysia glances over Rikka, "I've never done a flyt before, I thought I'd take a chance; Instead I'm stuck here rhyming about Rikka and her lucky pants. All seras are jealous, all the sers' eye glued; But what she lacks in looks, she makes up for being rude!"

Rikka tells Aleysia thusly, "It must be such hell, when your brain can fit into a shell, your smartness I must dispel, but the story I will retell, how I stood here past seven late bells, trying to spell out, mademoiselle that you, ma'am smell."

Aleysia quips to Rikka rhythmically, "Sure, my brain fits into a shell, it's called my head; Try and be patient whilst I fill you with dread; My rhymes are far better, yes, that's what I said, Better stick to writing books about the undead."

Rikka says now to Aleysia, "I couldn't help but upchuck when I saw your bad luck, with your face full of messy muck and couldn't help but gulp because Oooo girl who did your makeup?"

Aleysia retorts amusedly to Rikka, "And you wouldn't know fashion if hit you, Mistress!; Lookin' like a poor sad damsel, in this dress! But fret not my friend, the Clothiers can mend, so you aren't going around looking a mess!"

Winner: Aleysia

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Vasilisa smiles to Cordon harmlessly, "The first time I saw you, I thought you were like Lucus. Calm and wise beyond your years. Then you opened your mouth and I realize you're just every other lad in this castle. Large, stupid, and not half as good-looking as you think you are."

Cordon waves Vasilisa's words away with his rough left hand, "I am the mightiest man, that has ever woke. You're well known as well, just as mostly a joke. Please go again, and try not to choke. But if you do which I find quite assured, as all of those words seemed to be naught but a turd... do not worry I will save you and fetch a good laugh, distracting the people from your terrible gaffe."

Vasilisa hums to Cordon, "Really? When was the exact moment you realized that despite all those mighty fighting skills, no one up here really knows what you do. Hell, I don't think half the people in here even know anything about you. Just about every chronicle is about one of your family members, even the ones we don't like. Try again with something better and maybe I'll attempt to be nice."

Cordon raises his low, placid voice grinningly to the dining hall and Vasilisa, "You're abrasive and loud, and overly proud. So prepare to be cowed in front of this crowd. My name is Cordon, but some call me Njal, and when it comes to flyting I am better than all. You're a short little girl, and I'm impressively tall. You're weak and I'm strong, which none could call wrong. I am the best at this game, your tiresome lame. Come at me once more, thus far it's been just a bore."

Vasilisa nods to Cordon, "You might think I'm a bore, but I think you're just sore. You might be tall, but you know I'm surprised you even need an arse at all. I mean we all know your mouth is where the shite really falls. Sorry I had you had to fall, but we blackhearts are mightier than them all." Vasilisa admits to Cordon, "I'm surprised they didn't let you go first, ladies and all. I mean I think everyone knows, Trenna has you by the balls."

Cordon competitively pitches his words at Vasilisa, "Vasi's a lassie, she thinks that she's sassy. But Vasi the lassie was really just so very unclassy. She's a stylist and a fighter, very clever and wise, which is why her hair is so bright that it quite ruins the eyes. She's also so loud and she's crass, her voice is a force that can shatter your glass. Whenever she passes, and wanders on by, the castle does shriek and then run to go hide. --- Vasi the lassie, I should just take a pass-y. This flyt was so simple, and clearly defined. It's a wonder you managed even two words that rhymed. You're a fiery pirate, that is to clear to all, if only flyting with you, was not like cursing a wall. So now I am done, as I have so cleverly won, now run along lass, it was all in good fun."

Winner: Cordon

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Sigrun motions to Aleysia with her cylindrical liquor glass, "I call you Valkyrja for your prowess in battle, for the fact that you've nerves of steel, for the fact you don't rattle. Now I'm going to beat you - it's already decreed - so you should flex other talents, spend time fetching my mead. I'll force you to admit it, much to your chagrin, but you've really no chance, lass; I'm going to win."

Aleysia begins with Sigrun amusedly, "Eyes up, shields up, Maiden, don't let this one get past you. I thought this was a contest of insults, I'm here to harass you. I mean, we could spend all night talking about my Prowess, whether its swords, words or darts we know one thing: I don't miss."

Sigrun scoffs amusedly at Aleysia, "You never miss? You never hit. One thing we all know about you is you're shit. Forgive me, my friends, if I'm sounding quite terse but to spend time with this one is the mightiest curse. You can hype yourself, brag, talk up a good game, but by the end of this flyt? You'll be sitting in shame. All the Virtues you show are naught but a farce - all that's good about you, lass, is your giant arse."

Aleysia responds to Sigrun's words in-kind, "You know my ass is the best, I get compliments galore. Attack me on the Virtues, we all heard it before. Rehashing these tired old arguments are a chore. You say I'm a curse but you come back for more. Why don't you just stop, you're getting too big for your britches, because we all know who's going to win."
Aleysia finishes poetically, "This bitch is."

Sigrun shows her right palm to Aleysia, "Alright, you are right. I don't want to defame with my words or my flyting, nor speak ill of your name, but there comes a time in this thing where nobody could blame me for speaking your flaws while I put you to shame. You are stepping to me, seeking victory in flyt? Your company to all who know you? A blight. You're a pox, you're a plague, a mockery of verse, calling yourself a poet when your words would disperse any crowd that had the misfortune to gather and listen to your crowing, your poorly-timed blather. It is almost cute that you try to persist, but you're done for, I've beaten you, so..."
Sigrun leans towards Aleysia just-so, "Dismissed."

Aleysia retorts to Sigrun now, "You would insult me as poet but your poems are turds; You don't even like books: "Just a bunch of dead words!"; You think you won this game, but the fact is: Whether it's flyts or fights, you really need some practice; Your rhymes are uninspired, all I hear are snores, and even your playacting gives you away, your pirate name is Bors!; Why don't you sit down over there, the match is already won. May as well stick a fork in it, because this flyt is done."

Winner: Sigrun
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Cordon lifts his low, placid voice to Sigrun engagingly, "Ahh, and so here we are, another unworthy opponent to scar. It shouldn't be hard, you've quite lowered the bar. You're a Private? A warrior? How truly bizarre. As nobody knows just quite who you are. You're quick of the tongue, to bad your wit doesn't follow, all of your words have been utterly hollow. And now it is your turn anew, so feel free to stew, as I know that some of these words were likely very confusing to you."

Sigrun twitches her blue-lined black lips amusedly at Cordon, "You think me naught but a lass you can scar? Try all you might, you won't get very far. You are right that I'm new to this realm and its ways, though in three short moons I've already amazed. Wish I could return it, say that you are quick too, but I like to be Honest, not wholly untrue. You're as slow as a slug, big man, may as well be a mute; I hope your pride can recover from being crushed 'neath my boot."

Cordon shares his low, placid voice with the dining hall and Sigrun anew, "What fresh air you bring! A warrior woman with a sharp tongue that stings! Oh wait... there have already been so many of those things. You've the tattoos and attitude and hair of my kin, but that does not guarantee you a win. I'm the original, the best, you're just one of the rest. You're weak and you're wane, not even bright enough to know you've already been slain. You stand no chance against this Sash, in the war of words in which we do clash. Worry not child, I shall turn my head, so you may promptly escape and flee back to your bed."

Sigrun retorts smoothly to Cordon, "So I am not the first, and I won't be the last, but all those that came before me? Outclassed. It is not from my hair or my ink that you'll lose, but for the big man's small ego that I'll bruise and abuse. You look sturdy and gallant, all muscle and class, but when we are done here you'll be sat on your ass. Will it hurt you inside to be bested by me, this weak and wane woman that only you see? The rest of folk here know my spirit and worth, so heed their advice and give me a wide berth. Go back to your mountain where you can live without fear; you think the Nightmare's down there? No. The Nightmare's right here."

Cordon largely bolsters himself with his words, "I'm the best I'm the greatest, you're all just the latest. None can stand against me, nor the words that I weave. I am above all the rest, I'm just truly so blessed. So while you stand before me, bringing insults to bear, remember that there was never a prayer. So I turn my eyes on you, to battle one last, I will be sure you remember, it was with my words you were dismembered. I've an axe and sword, but my most dangerous tool has always been words. You were done at the start, you haven't the brains to compete with me, which is why I have so easily thrashed you with glee. Don't worry, little one, it isn't bad, but the verse that you spoke was just so verily sad. A private, a shield maiden, all this I have heard, and as you stand before me, I see that was all so clearly absurd...."

Sigrun swirls a golden liquor relaxedly in her cylindrical liquor glass, "If you think you've a talent with the words that you weave, it's apparent to all; it's yourself you deceive. I will humour your confidence, stroke your ego some more, by not telling you truly that all here abhor your distinct lack of wisdom and your absence of wit, but a victory for you? This I cannot permit. You've an axe and a sword, aye; it's clear you're a bragger. Why do you never boast about your tiny dagger? Is it not as impressive as the rest of your girth? It's a good job for you that Trenna thinks you're worth all her time and affection in vain of this thing - but do let her know that I'm here for a fling if she tires of you and your tired old boasts, when the only tales that I've heard of your honour are ghosts. Is there ought that you've done in times that are recent? Anything noteworthy, anything decent? So far I must say, I'm barely impressed. I wager all that is claimed of you is spoken in jest. Run back home to the Under, hide behind your sash, come back when you're ready for a real fucking clash."