Outside

walks out so which way is it to a graveyard

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN THERE'S BEEN A PROBLEM!???!!"

Julius Benedict would storm outside of the coliseumb, cellphone in hand, holding it up to his right ear. On the other end would be his business partner of sorts. He had trusted him in fixing up his machine in time for the tournament...and yet, there's been a delay. "So...the device isn't working properly?...No it's not my problem! It was your research!...Ugh, just get it ready! It has to arrive here as soon as you're done!"

He would quickly shut off his phone and then pocket it. "Blast that idiot...always screwing up my plans..."

starts walking to the forest

Akako hadn't realized it but a barrier of black fire had surrounded her. Her repitions were getting faster and the fire around her was licking the air dangerously. Her eyes were black and her pendant glowed. That was when she realized something bad was happening. She was losing control of it. Damn it! She stood and pulled off the pendant. Two black wings appeared and Akako's eyes were hollow and empty. Fire surrounded her clentched fists and then she went back to normal.

Ok.. that's bad.. I need to get the other pendant.. it won't keep her in anymore and.. shit.. dangerous.. Akako thought about the day Reaper showed up and she lost all control and almost killed him then sighed. "This is really bad..." She sat down in the charred grass then fell back looking at the sky. Her eyes softened and a soft sigh slipped its way through her lips. "It's beautiful...."

Akako frowned and her eyes looked over to the stadium's wall. She lifted a brow then rolled onto her side closing her eyes. "What the hell is wrong with men today?..." Her voice was annoyed and tense. Akako's breathing grew shallow as if she was trying to sleep and her legs curled up closer to her chest. She seemed so innocent and looked like a child almost.

Akako heard the sound of something cutting air and she was up in a heart beat and had dogded. "The hell?!" Akako looked up. "WHY ARE YOU ATTACKING ME BEFORE THE MATCHES!!!" She yelled now pissed off. "GOD DAMN ALL OF YOU MEN!!!" She then walked back towards the arena.. she was going back to the restraunt with the guys that weren't trying to kill her.

crzycziri Wrote:

> Bwahaha! One of the table sets had come to life and unwrapped itself! With a snap of magical weaving, two sharp steak knifes bulleted towards her, locked on her deliciously hidden demonic aura!

Akako turned on her heal and dodged both of them. A low growl came from her throat as she unsheathed her katana. "God damn it.. why the hell is this happening!?" She glared hard at the knives then her left hand came up and ripped the pendant away. She shifted into her fallen form and fire whipped around her body and wings.

Akako Shiko Wrote:

> crzycziri Wrote: > > crzycziri Wrote: > > > Bwahaha! One of the table sets had come to life and unwrapped itself! With a snap of magical weaving, two sharp steak knifes bulleted towards her, locked on her deliciously hidden demonic aura! > Akako turned on her heal and dodged both of them. A low growl came from her throat as she unsheathed her katana. "God damn it.. why the hell is this happening!?" She glared hard at the knives then her left hand came up and ripped the pendant away. She shifted into her fallen form and fire whipped around her body and wings.

Ah, but the knifes were homing in on her, and one of the knifes would still hit, while the other was trapped within the wall. The knife would slice through her shoulder blade, splitting many tendons before burying itself deep into her flesh, and feeding it some sort of infection that would force her arm to twitch and get itself into an even worse state, infact the movement might force the arm quite off. The infection tried to take control of more nerve impulses and corrupt them, and as it did so, it would use the muscles it already controlled and slam her into a wall.

crzycziri Wrote:

> Akako Shiko Wrote: > > Akako Shiko Wrote: > > > crzycziri Wrote: > > > > crzycziri Wrote: > > > > > Bwahaha! One of the table sets had come to life and unwrapped itself! With a snap of magical weaving, two sharp steak knifes bulleted towards her, locked on her deliciously hidden demonic aura! > > > Akako turned on her heal and dodged both of them. A low growl came from her throat as she unsheathed her katana. "God damn it.. why the hell is this happening!?" She glared hard at the knives then her left hand came up and ripped the pendant away. She shifted into her fallen form and fire whipped around her body and wings. > > Ah, but the knifes were homing in on her, and one of the knifes would still hit, while the other was trapped within the wall. The knife would slice through her shoulder blade, splitting many tendons before burying itself deep into her flesh, and feeding it some sort of infection that would force her arm to twitch and get itself into an even worse state, infact the movement might force the arm quite off. The infection tried to take control of more nerve impulses and corrupt them, and as it did so, it would use the muscles it already controlled and slam her into a wall.

Akako let out a scream as one of the blades dug in. She ripped it out and broke the blade also cutting her hand. She touched where she was wounded and fire burned the wound shut. She gritted her teeth then dissapeared. She was quite the skilled runner. "Inside.. now.." she breathed her arm completely limp. She felt all control giving in, but she pushed herself to make it to Omi at least. Why someone was trying to kill her was beyond her. Pain shot through her as she hit a wall and fell back. She breathing was irregular and her eyes narrowed. "I won't give up!" She yelled then stood up again running her hardest.

Javelin had obviously missed too much when she'd taken a snooze in a concealed hallway corner. As it appeared, one catagory of the tournament had already started, and she bit her lips against hope that it wasn't her catagory, and that she hadn't missed her turn.

So, it was only natural that a trip to the sign-up booth, which featured a list of competitors, was in order.

The day was nice, even though the serenity was being interrupted here and there by pointless pre-match fighting. Honestly, these people ought to conserve themselves, or at least excercise in a less stressed environment. She'd really have to admire the stamina of anyone who could keep going like these folks seemed to be doing. (But, considering that most of the competitors here were over-glorified, over-powered, and armed to the teeth, she probably shouldn't have been too surprised.)

She jogged from the stadium, thanking fate again for such comfortable shoes, and straight to the precise table she went. To her immense relief, her own bracket had yet to fill up. They were... She counted quickly... About eighteen slots left.

"Well," She'd practically sighed the comfort into the air, "Thank goodness."

Outside the arena, the hulking purple mechlike figure of Jatanma appears to be deep in silence, occasionally muttering to himself.

"C'mon, it's not like you bastards have any use for - " ... "We're underground with no enemies, no one will miss it!" ... "Grease, give me the damn gun or I'll kick your ass when I get back."

A violent screeching is suddenly emitted from his helmet, followed immediately by a full round of equally violent cursing interspersed with meaningless death threats.

"Would you like the commander to find out about that? .....Then just send it over already. Don't screw with me, you know the damn coordinates! Please aim for the damned hardpoint, though, Loony will be pissed if she's gotta attach it for me and you don't waaaaaaaaant that!"

...

After about five minutes, during which Jatanma stands perfectly still and stays completely silent, a thin beam of light streaks down from the sky, impacting his right shoulder and reforming into what looks to be a very effective vulcan gun.

"Hey, nice."

In the wilderness leading away from the tournament, the mercenary known as 'Omi', dark garbed as usual, was pushing several flimsly bits of plants and large leaves aside with his left, gauntlet adorned hand. Supposedly, a demon had been sighted in these parts - one of depravity, insanity, and blood-lust. Which, worked quite fine for he. A demon was what twas required for a blade forgery by his new acquaintence, Kuro, after all.

Yet, as he made it through the slightly humid air, a bit of sweat began to form upon the young man's skin. So far, all he had sighted was a few small animals here and there - no grand 'demon'. "Damn! My match has been decided too, I need to hurry up with this, or-"

His thoughts were cut short by a strange sound. It made the mercenary become tense in an instant, both arms at his sides. The air seemed to distort.. and become quite audible - which made Omi all the more nervous. A cool breeze met his sweat adorned skin, what was exposed - feeling most comfortable, though at the time, bothersome. Whatever 'demon' was sighted, was nothing of the frail sort, as he had assumed.

His right hand slowly raised in front of him, at chest level - arm extended out, fingers lowered. A brief sunray came through the foilage, striking the metal handplate which was attached to the top of his gauntlet - his amber brown eyes glancing this way and that. Then, with a howl, something rammed through a cedar tree as though it hadn't been there at all.

Large. It looked like a very large imp - taller than an average man by far, perhaps coming up to 7'0'' even with it's knees bent. It's skin looked to be covered, or perhaps even made of stone. It's eyes were fierce, bloody red - pupils and all. And, it's tail was massive, swinging this way and that - it's wings spanning many more feet than it's heigth, four of them fluttering open as it flew at Omi with such a speed as to slay and devour him. For, after all, it was a 'Draiken' - a bizarre and upstart breed of beasts that had only recently been discovered in more northern regions. Why it was here, had little time to be pondered in the mercenary's head.

His right hand rose up just as the demon flew at him, palm first - and then, something began to emit from his fingertips. It cast a red, ethral glow upon his flesh and clothing - emitting light in such a disturbing fashion.

Moments later, throughout the following region, one could swear they had heard an explosion. Trees in a mid-length ring had fluttered into oblivion, not enough so one at a distance could tell, but if one twas nearby - it would look as though the immediete area was nearly destroyed. The mercenary's head was bowed, wild hair strewn over his eyes. And all around him, small renmants of fire flickered, cracked, and cast a disturbing light show on the damage.

The beast was quite dead - numerous burns lining his body, mouth wide open and a few fangs distorted or missing. Eyes pale. Yet, instead of checking the demon, Omi strangely extended his right arm again.. and made an open palm, his knuckles on the topside. He slowly lowered his arm, and the flames that had been caused by whatever he had done disappeared as though they had never existed. Although, the ash and damage suggested otherwise.

Omi exhaled deeply, before walking over to the fallen corpse, and grasping it by the wings. He'd have to carry it over one of his shoulders. Unpleasent, but necessary. And as he slung it up onto his left shoulder, both of his eyes turned to his right - as though looking for something in particular. Yet, he saw nothing - and grinned wearily. "Good. No bleeding. Looks like it'll be less risky to use here.. And with that newly forged blade and all the work I've put into getting prepared for this thing, it's about damned time my confidence returned." Inwardly chuckling, Omi began to walk over grass. Or, what had been grass, at anyrate.

"Lookin' for someone?" A young, boyish voice taunted Jack. Glancing in the direction of the voice would reveal a fifteen year old with sleek, jet black hair and eyes oddly the shade of bright orange, stepping out from behind one of the sturdy columns along the rim of the coliseum. The teenager, or so he seemed, approached Jack with his mouth cocked in a sly grin.

In all aspects he really did look like a simple boy rather than a seasoned fighter. Pure, pale, unblemished skin matched a face that could almost look innocent of the boy really tried. His unkempt hair, mostly swept backward for the sake of convenience, featured several unruly, outrageous spikes and bangs. He wore simple, albeit flashy, outfit consisting of a long-sleeved, hooded black jacket with white stripes and patterns, bushy white wolf fur lining the collar and rim of the hood, a pearly white undershirt, baggy, dark blue, carpenter jeans, a simple black belt, black gloves with white padding, and black sneakers with white streaks. He also had a silver chain hanging across his right hip which jingled and clinked when he walked, but as with the rest of his clothing, it offered no real tactical significance.

He stepped forward casually but carefully, and if anything he exuded an air of brash arrogance. I mean, come on! A fifteen-year-old coming out and taunting what looked like a very formidable fighter. The boy himself did not seem to possess any weapons on his body except for a cylindrical object which he held in his left hand. It looked like some kind of black, segmented rod about perhaps six inches or more in length, a few inches in diameter, with glowing, ruby-like objects embedded in the cracks between the four corners of each segment. Some kind of glowing spirit in the rubies seemed to calmly pulse like the flow of lava.

When the boy stepped within a few of the man, he tilted his head back some, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"I'm Ryon," He announced proudly. "Looking for a warm-up match before things get started in the tournament?"

Ryon's striking, bright orange eyes met with Jack's. He arched an eyebrow when Jack bowed, finding the custom a tad archaic. He managed to check his tongue at least about that. He looked down at the cylinder in his hand for a moment as if Jack spoke of something else entirely. His grin widened as he turned his attention back to Jack.

"It's the only one I ever need." He replied bluntly. He cocked his head slightly as he glanced at the pole slung on his sparring partner's back.

"Feel free to draw yours whenever. Oh, and..." He shifted his body so his right side and right arm faced Jack, turning his head to keep his eyes on the man a couple of years older. This way he presented less of a target and now concealed his left arm, holding the cylinder.

"Sorry in advance if I make ya wanna quit this tournament."

And so the practice match had begun. Despite his arrogance, Ryon watched intently when Jack made his move. A swift move indeed, though Ryon found it odd that Jack would sweep his leg around to hit Ryon's left leg when he led with his right foot. He also found the sweeping move an odd choice. It tended to prove a somewhat inefficient and unreliable. Since it was Jack's first move made head-on, Ryon easily followed his movements, too.

Oddly, when Jack first moved forward on the ball of his left foot, Ryon stepped in. He didn't back out like most fighters to size up the attack. Even for a boy, Ryon had no problem getting right in his enemy's face in a battle. So he stepped forward as Jack swept his leg around.

Reacting to the sweeping motion, Ryon pivoted on his forward, right heel. He moved his body in a counter clockwise motion so that his left foot would move out of range of the sweep until Ryon's extended right shin would block Jack's leg. Since he also stepped forward he avoided the brunt of the damage located where Jack's shin would strike.

While he pivoted on his heel, he also lowered himself some into a more traditional stance. Similar to a boxer, he bent his knees some, kept his feet at a t-like 90 degree angle, tucked in his chin, and lifted both forearms to guard his body and face. While Jack moved forward and Ryon moved in, he extended his right elbow, the one closest to Jack, to hit him in the gut.

In theory he would use Jack's own weight and momentum against him. Ryon also packed a lot of strength in his small body; ultimately, he held a superhuman amount, but for now he did not really very much force into his elbow. Really meant to interrupt Jack, it would only knock the wind out of an average human at best.

Ryon used the bend in his right knee to lean forward some, twisting his foot to deflect Jack's punch. As a result the punch grazed his knee cap and almost caused him to buckle back from the force. But Ryon stood firmly.

The orange-eyed fighter did not anticipate his opponent's grace so he soon found his right arm twisted behind his back and unable to defend him further while he busied himself with deflecting the punch. Wise move. Naturally, his opponent would try to exploit this newfound weakness while it lasted, for it would not last long.

With his right leg forward and in position, Ryon slammed his right shoulder forward into Jack's chest, tucking in his head to watch his footwork and avoid any strikes. He did not really ram his shoulder into Jack's chest for damage, but to keep his opponent close and therefore restricted in his movements. At this distance he practically breathed on Jack.

He once again pivoted his body on his right leg quickly and blocked Jack's left leg once again with his own right leg. When Jack brought up his knee, Ryon bunted his right knee into Jack's curled leg to knock the attack away. Since Jack's body rose, Ryon then twisted his body back around to swing his left arm into a powerful uppercut aimed at Jack's stomach. Hopefully with his shoulder boring into his opponent, Jack would not see it coming.

Edit: OOC: Sorry, gotta go!

Ryon's eyes widened when Jack intercepted his left hand. Because Jack had grabbed Ryon's left wrist, the boy knew Jack had some terrible plan. It didn't help that Jack betrayed his own poker face with a wide grin. Ryon scoffed when Jack pulled his left arm upwards, now leaving his right arm free from constraint. After all, Jack did not have three arms, or Ryon at least had not noticed any. Jack used his right arm to get Ryon's head in the chokehold, and his left arm to hold Ryon's left fist at bay.

Ryon grit his teeth when Jack got him in the chokehold, but with his right arm and feet free to act, he knew he could not be held for long. When Jack stepped forward with his right leg to position it parallel to Ryon's shoulder, the younger, black-haired fighter once again moved his extended right leg which face his opponent. He swung his right leg around as he again pivoted his body right before Jack could secure the lock on his chokehold. With the knee of his right leg he jammed it up against the back of Jack's knee, invariably causing his leg to buckle and throw him off balance. Knowing his weight would not shift to the right with even the slightest budge, Ryon pushed with is left leg to swing Jack to the ground on his own terms.

Using his right shoulder, which he had jammed up against Jack's chest earlier, his right arm to hook the left side of Jack's body, Ryon pushed so that he would slam Jack's back into the ground first, and hard. Once again, despite his size he possessed a surge of superhuman strength far beyond that of even well-muscled man. For now he put enough force into his slam to easily knock the wind completely out of Jack and perhaps send a good shock up his spine for a very momentariy, seconds-long paralysis effect. Ryon did not really expect Jack to take any more damage than that, if that much, from the half-tackle. If Ryon knew how to grapple, he most likely knew how to fall. Before anyone learns to grapple in some official martial arts capacity, they generally must learn proper falling techniques.

No matter. Ryon, like other members of the Guardian Order, learned to think on his feet and constantly trained to perform a number of critical actions at a moment's notice in the span of a few seconds. This reduced the lagtime between his moves so that he would not let himself linger in an opponent's hold, for instance.

As he threw Jack off-balance and to the ground, hard, he extended the fingers of his left hand. The cylinder would normally fall out and to the ground, but instead it merely disappeared in a few red, sparkling lights. Using this as a minor distraction as well, Ryon waited until right when Jack would hit the floor to twist his left forearm around so that he could grab Jack's left wrist with his own left hand. Quickly, he positioned the fingers and knife-edge of his hand to pull back on Jack's left palm and apply tremendous pressure to Jack's wrist. He tried to do this in a quick, snapping motion to potentially break his opponent's left wrist.

Ryon conincidentally did not need to lift his right leg to jam it up under Jack's right knee and cause it to buckle. Since Jack had stepped in even further to execute the lock in the first place, Ryon once again could keep his basic footing while simply sliding his leg around to nudge the back of Jack's right knee. Because of this, instead of allowing his leg be lifted from the ground, Ryon had controlled the terms of the fall. By causing Jack's knee to buckle, to which Jack did not offer a reponse, Ryon would be able to keep his right foot firmly planted on the ground. As he slammed Jack to the ground, he crouched his right leg and fell on his left knee. In this way he entered a basic crouch instead of falling to the ground as well. Jack, the one who had really lost his balance, would continue on as planned.

Since, once again, Jack had nothing free to keep Ryon's right arm pinned behind his back, Ryon used it to help break his fall so that his face would not slam into the ground.

Recall that he used it to hook around Jack's side to help slam him into the ground with extra force. This left it free on that side to also hit the ground, palm out to put a force of resistance between his face and the ground. As for how Jack might apply his left knee to the top of Ryon's skull, which by Jack's terms should be nested under his right arm, Ryon would have no clue. Perhaps Jack's knee could wrap around his body like some elastic substance.

Since he had kept his footing and fell into a crouch, Ryon would not have to push hard. He felt immense pressure in the death hold, but his head would not come off so easily. As Jack's back hit the floor, Ryon used his free right arm pushing on the ground to ease himself out of Jack's grip. But he would need a little more help than to completely remove himself.

Ryon heard the satisfying crack of his opponent's left wrist and grinned. Jack had done nothing to stop Ryon from snapping his opponent's left wrist. Even in a sparring match, Ryon had no qualms about breaking an opponent's smaller bones. Normally, he left it so they could heal very quickly, and coupled with the advanced, accelerative healing techniques the specialty medics and healers at the tournament had to offer, Jack could have his wrist mended to be exactly like new in a single afternoon.

However, this would be the only thing Ryon needed to end the submission. With Jack's left hand utterly useless, the shot of pain would reach Jack in seconds and at least cause him to pause in his thinking if he did not outwardly wince or cry out in pain. Quickly, Ryon dropped Jack's useless left hand and turned it on Jack's right arm. Grabbing Jack's upper right arm in his free left hand, Ryon could apply enough pressure to pull and create just a big enough opening for his head to escape. While Jack hit the ground and arched his back, Ryon would slip off like the top to a bottle of wine.

At this point Jack's knee could hit Ryon's ribcage, so Ryon took the forceful blow. In fact, he used the momentum to help move him back while he pushed off of the ground with his right foot. He executed a flawless back roll to finally escape his opponent's grip. He sprung up on his feet after finishing the roll and once again raised his forearms and fists in a guarding position in front of his face. He entered his poised battle stance and bouned around some as he grinned wildly at the man he left on the ground.

'That was a close call...' He reflected inwardly. 'He's quick. Almost as fast as old man Curse. But, he won't get me in that damn technique again.'

Consider this round two.

Ryon scooted back a tad to put a little more distance between himself and his opponent, rather than take advantage of his momentary stun. Ryon preferred a standing up fight. Obviously, he was very grateful to free himself from that deathgrip. At this distance Jack could not sweep at Ryon's legs or even attack him without taking a telling step forward.

"Naturally," Ryon taunted in response to Jack. "I can see why you signed up for the tournament. Heh, now you're going to make me have to take back what I said earlier!"

Ryon's boyish grin never left his face. Something about a nice fight like this gave him more joy than anything in the world. No killer instict. No political ideals. No emotional connections. Simply the honor of the duel.

Ryon returned Jack's playful nature now in his own roguish grin. He knew his opponent and him could really enjoy the sparring match now.

"Nice to meet you," Ryon replied with a proud but respectful nod of his head. Jack prepared himself by twisting his trunk. Meanwhile a flash of sparkling red light in Ryon's left hand gave way to reveal that he had returned that odd cylinder to his clenched fist. He always prepared himself for a fight like this to escalate to weapons, and he really missed a good weapons match. He and this odd cylindrical object were inseparable, and those who knew him back home knew he possessed incredible skill with it. Just what was it?

"Yeah," He grunted in a cocky fashion. "I'm always ready."

And then Ryon moved forward. Some might find it rude for him to merely jump right back into the fight, but for a fighter like Ryon, the true conversation came during the fight. Each move, each blow, while he always kept his eyes locked onto his opponent's, they would communicate in their own esoteric language that only the two of them could fully understand.

Ryon moved forward in an odd way akin to a swordsman's shuffle. Once again leading with his right foot, he merely skid across the ground without ever really lifting either of his feet. He used this movement to get right into Jack's reach, but he kept his arms up to guard his face. Then he launched a very fast right hook to Jack's midsection--or so it seemed for a split second. Instead, he retracted his right arm in mid-swing, returned it to guard his face, and simultaneously swung his left arm around, twisting his body to maximize the impact, in a wide, powerful left hook for Jack's side. Once again even this "kid" carried enough explosive power to knock the wind clear out of Jack.

Edit: Added "ground" after "skidded across the"

Ryon's eyes widened at Jack's amazing, reflexive speed. He had not seen the likes of such speed in another fighter before. Ryon did not quite possess that kind of speed himself, but he did have one physical attribute really going for him.

With an incredible surge of strength, Ryon used his right forearm, which he had quickly snapped back to protect his face after his initial fake, to collide with Jack's leg. Since Ryon had enough room to apply his own force before the blow, Ryon barely managed to block the sheer speed of the kick. Jack's tipping motion from falling backwards on his hands indicated some kind of rising or sweeping attack would have to follow.

So Ryon pushed Jack's left kick aside with incredible force from his right arm. Not only would this stop the kick, but it could also interrupt Jack's momentum from the sheer, sudden amont of raw power the boy could put into a simple arm block. Once again he then quickly returned his right forearm to guard his face and upper body. So there went the rising attack. Would he follow through with another, or a sweep?

Looks like Jack chose the sweep with his right, or at least a quick, snapping kick aimed low. It came so fast and suddenly, Ryon could do nothing to stop it even though he anticipated such an attack. As Jack's did before, Ryon's knee buckled and he began to tilt downward. However, with his left arm still free to maintain its course, Ryon quickly adjusted his aim and lashed out to snap Jack's now lowered-head in a fierce uppercut before he tripped. If he could reach Jack's head without simply grazing it, he could cause some stunning damage. Unlikely, though, as his buckling knee threw him off balance and therefore off target.

Meanwhile, Ryon's left foot slid back to give himself more traction on the ground. This way, he could avoid completely toppling over, but Jack still had him off balance.

"Hn!" Ryon grunted when Jack whipped his left arm out to catch Ryon's left. Granted, he did not anticipate that. He would have to act quickly to avoid a gruesome situation. Ryon knew allowing his opponent to lock any part of his body again could prove disastrous. So, he focused all his efforts on Jack's grip. With his free right hand, Ryon performed his own death grip on Jack's left wrist.

Jack slammed the boy to the ground with ease, but Ryon tucked his body and slightly twisted on his left to take it in stride. Despite the sharp pain that sparked through his body, Ryon kept his grip on Jack's left wrist. This way, he could apply the opposite amount of force if Jack tried to pull, or he could execute his own lock if Jack tried to take it into one.

A swift stomp on his ribs alerted Ryon to take his plan into action. He shifted on his body to turn more on his left side and instantly retaliate. First, he pulled down on Jack's left wrist with his right hand to counteract the ripping motion. Inhuman strength matched with inhuman strength.

Then he snapped his legs out in a two-fold kick. His left leg, closest to the ground, would snap around to execute a knee to Jack's right foot. Removing it from his own body by quickly bending his stomach, this would put Jack on one foot for a brief second. In that brief second Ryon's right leg would lunge straight out in a fierce rising kick aimed at Jack's gut. He also placed the right angle and amount of force into the kick, coupled with Jack's momentary single foot, to push Jack off-balance and down.

Keeping his own deathgrip on Jack's left wrist, Ryon could possibly cause the man to topple over as well.

Luckily for Ryon, he could not be manipulated so easily now after seeing Jack utilize his locks before, and he still had aces up his sleeve. Ryon's propped left knee from before kept him from completely belly-flopping on the ground, as he knew that would Jack's most desirable position to put the boy in. That left knee that missed before now propped Ryon up from the ground. Just as Jack would think he had Ryon pinned, Ryon would immediately execute his counter.

Ryon pulled back with both of his arms to counteract any strength his opponent could muster. It must be said again that despite appearance, Ryon possessed a strength far beyond even the greatest limitations of a highly-muscled, adult human. In fact, the mere game of tug-of-war simply allowed Ryon to further prop himself up on his knee. But he waited to do so. For now he would keep his shoulder from dislocating.

Ryon kept his head turned to face his opponent, always keeping his eyes on him. He buckled to take the slide kick, launching his head forward in a quick head butt. By now it would be obvious. Ryon's head would meet the kick directly and the boy would sustain little damage. Somehow, he could channel a superhuman force into his attacks so that he did not even have to achieve a full range of motion to maximize the strength of his attacks. If simply allowed to act on an opposing force with his own, even in the form of a headbutt, Ryon could instantly generate unbelievable amounts of power. He grinned when he stopped the kick flawlessly.

Oh, but Jack had kicked some dust up in the air on the execution of his attack. Perfect.

Ryon used this to allow both his propped left knee and free right leg to shoot up explosively into a standing position, though his arms would still be bound by Jack's vice-like grip on his pressure points. No matter. Handicaps made a battle interesting.

As Jack uttered his line, Ryon would already be up and on his feet in a split second. Meanwhile, his right leg snapped out in the cover of dust and quick motion. Bam, bam, bam. A solid side kick first snapped out with both speed and power to slam into Jack's portruding knee, followed instantly by a swift kick to his left thigh and another to his left knee.

As Jack would deal with that, Ryon would use the sheer weight of his body, magnified about five times over, to instantly push down on Jack's arms and body. This would create almost 800 pounds of pressure on Jack's arms and upper body, pushing him onto his back and possibly burrowing him down into the ground if he could not handle lifting such a load.

"Never."

Ryon stared into his opponent's eyes with his own fiery, bright orange irises. Jack was not the only one who seemed insane now. Something about Ryon's expression made him look bloodthirsty with a hungry, wolfish grin. He was simply enjoying the fight. By now he had placed his forward right leg and trailing left leg in his typical battle stance, his right ahead and facing his opponent, his left behind and pointed to his left. However, he had also dug the heel of his left leg into Jack's right ankle, pinning it down with almost an equal amount of force. The force in his left leg would begin to quickly deteriorate, though, to only about twice his body weight (of around 168 pounds). That's if he even caught Jack's extended leg in the first place.

Just as he suspected, Ryon had kept eye contact the whole time. It worked out nicely, the wall of dirt would roll right into Ryon's opens eye's, blinding him while it collected all over his face and hair.

Thanks to sand in Ryon's eye's, he would have quite a hard time executing the slide tackle properly, and it provided Jack with just the amount of stuff he needed to once again out manuver Ryon.

Just as Ryon shot to his feet, Jack's right leg shot under him, curling up on the balls of his feet he lept upwards. At this time Ryon would be executing his slide tack, his left leg bent underneath him, and his right leg shooting forwards in a powerful kick.

From above, Jack noticed the move right away, and sent his left foot down in a stealthy stomp upon his unguarded genitles. Simutaneously bringng his right knee up as if in a run, and yanking up hard on Ryon's arms to ensure no defense from that depart ment could be made.

In the same motion as the last, Jack rammed his right leg down, pointing his toes as he brought the end of his foot crashing towards the side the kids throat. It was a vulnerable point, Jack had caught on by now that this was no ordinary kid and he'd have to take shots where it hurt the most. Starting with the two most common the nutts and the throat.

As he executed the run over Ryon's body, he immediately shot his left leg back upwards, and immediately down. slamming it against the bottom of his chin as his right foot slid behind Ryon's head.

To ensure damage, up on crossing over Ryon's shoulder area, Jack twisted both his hands inhumanly backwards, in an attempt to brake both his wrists.

*Ryon had done good avoiding the last string of attacks, just as Jack hoped he would.

Flipping up in the air as his arms crossed, and the kick skidded under neath him. He would avoid the whole sequence altogehter. However, the 800lb. kick would send Ryon's regular body jolting forwards with the sheer inertia of kick. At this time, Jack would twist in the middle of his flip, since his arms were crossed he would land behind Ryon with his arms straight.

As Jack's author noted before, Jack hate's to waist momentum, so as he spun he wrentched down hard on Ryon's wrist as he against attempted to break it. That combined with Ryon's forward motion would make the grueling task quite easy.

Kicking off the ground as he landed, Jack used the momentum of Ryon's inertia to propell him forwards. Jabbing his right knee forwards into Ryon's kidney as he released his grip on Ryon's, most likely, broken wrists and shot his hands and arms forwards.

The right one would wrap around Ryon's head, beneath the chin, his right hand grasping onto his left tricep. While his left hand smashed against the back of Ryon's head, grabbing a fist full of hair for extra support.

The rear-naked choke as it's called in Mixed Martial Arts. Probably one of the most famous holds of all time, due to it's quickness to act and near impenitrable lock. Unlike his last one, this one happened immediately, the lock was virtually the first thing to happed and due to the lightning like speed of wich the hold occured, it would prove to be one tough cookie to brake out of.

From Ryon's front side, it would appear as if a die hard fan had snuck up from behind and latched his self onto Ryon in a massive hug, with no intent on letting go untill he got his autograph and maby a few hair samples.

Shooting his free left leg past Ryon's left rib cage, he wrapped it around his torso as his right leg met up with it. Locking at the ankles as he squeezed his thighs inwards with enormous strength and power. This would prove to be another good reason why speed is vital if you wish to succeed in melee battles.

This would be Jack's final test he put on Ryon before taking the defensive. Don't let me down now kiddo. Ryon had proved quite a worthy opponent, on the defensive side that is, but wether or not Ryon could bring this beast down Jack's author wasn't certain. The most crutial mistakes are made in one's offensive, but before we start thinking about that let's hope Ryon pulls off another upset.

There is one secret to defeating the rear-naked choke, wether Ryon knew it or not, Jack was about to find out first hand. Then again, in all honesty most people do know the secret, wether they can execute the secret is what's normally the problem. Especially against an experianced melee fighter.*

*Unfortunantly, Ryon had targeted the wrong body parts, and at the wrong time. Though Jack was still impressed, typically when people are placed in the rear-naked choke they tap immediately, this "15 year old kid" proved to have more spunk then any one he had ever fought. There would be no doubt in Jack's mind that this kid would struggle untill death if he could.

Unfortunantely for Ryon, pulling on Jack's right arm would just cause his left hand to push down harder on the back of Ryon's head. Because Jack's right hand was securely fascend to his left tricep the force Ryon applied to Jack's right arm would ultimately just cause more pressure to be applied through Jack's left arm, and vice versa.

Jack didn't allow Ryon that much control of his head, not that it would do much. He simply barrier his head down to his own left shoulder and waited it out. Gritting his teeth as he pulled harder.

Ryon was smart to not bother with the feet though, even though they would cause emmense stress and render breathing slightly, the most damamge will be delt to the head if he didn't do something fast.

Jack pushed his back in, pulling back with both arms while maintaning the snare but also pulling back with his legs and squeezing them tighter. His veins his arms shot to life, erupting out of his skin for the first time through the whole fight. Similiar to his arms, his legs erupted with there own set of veins, though fewer in number and more spread out than the arms.

After ushering this hold on many victims, Jack was sure that if held on much longer Ryon might faint frome exauhstion and lack of breath. I can't do it, not yet.. Ironically enough, Jack opted once again not end the fight here, this kid had spunk and he might make it through. Though if he doesn't succeed this time he would have to call the round, or possibly the match.

The chances would be slim, Ryon's blood would be collecting rapidly in his head, his face would go plum red and the lack of oxygen would keep him from thinking well and would normally result in panic. First the arms would flail about, followed by the ripping up and down motion of the torso. . . All would fail. . . But wether or not Ryon would succumb to the panic is unknown, this kid had proved to be quite different than most and has yet to show little fear or panic in any of the exercises Jack has put him through.*

*Jack's author must applaud the interesting tactics, wether or not they work? Well, I'll guess you'll just have to read huh.

Ryon began working hard on Jack's left hand but he would find it wouldn't budge. Though, Jack new that if he was given enough time, he would eventually have to succumb to the pain or watch as his fingers were broken off.

Almost half way grinning, I'll choose option "C" thanks! he thought as he decided both of those options didn't sound like to much fun at all.

Jack simply ripped his head up in a stealthy cheap attack on Ryon's own hand. His mouth unlatching itself from it's grunt, his unusually fierce k-9's cripping with saliva as his mouth closed in fast over Ryon's fingers.

Crunching down with out a second though on Ryon's own fingers with the intent of braking bones and spilling blood. His eye's were now completely white with madness as he began lacerating Ryon's fingers untill he gave into the pain or untill Jack chewed them down to nubbs.

Wichever came first he didn't rightly care, though he was sure his would hurt a lot worse than the simply ripping back of fingers. Though Jack's fingers weren't budging for the time being, he had his death lock on that scalp and Ryon would indeed need to brake his hand off if he wanted free.

A more simple solution was provided for his other hand. Once again, Ryon pushing down with his chin would only further secure the grip on top and push his head further into Jack's right arm. Though he would soon find out that there was no reaching Jack's wrist. A simple matter of posistioning, Jack's right wrist was trapped between Jack's left bicep and forearm, a rather tight squeeze that Jack's author was sure Ryon's hand could not venture through.

Although, Jack didn't seem to want to end the fun just yet. Jack could sense Ryon was comming to the end of the road, so he released his grip with his legs, planting them firmly on the ground. Then just ask quickly as he set the rear-naked choke, he ripped it appart. Simutaneously bringing his right foot up in a solid kick to Ryon's lower back, a simple kick, but it was forceful and more than likely Ryon would be slightly dazed and now in shock as tonz of blood rushed into head.

Jack wasn't about to show mercy however, reaching back with his right hand he retrieved his special wax wood staff.

He quickly retrieved it from his back and within an instant it was crashing across Ryon's back. He gripped it like an ax, his left hand at the bottom of the pole, and his right about a foot and a half further up.

A trickle of sweat pursed down from the corner of his forhead as he swung. Now, show me what that weapon of yours is all about... If you can... Jack was ready to upper the fight, indeed round 3 had gone to him but round 4 had some very different variables that could very well change the course of the fight. Then again, it could just cause even more pain and suffering to unfold upon Ryon, could he handle it?*

*Unknown by Ryon, Furyon's possessed a deap immunity to intense temperatures, wether hot or cold. So Ryon's burning flesh would do little stop Jack from mauling his fingers. Though luckily for him Jack stopped anyways. . . On the other hand, Jack now had a taste for Ryon's blood, not a good thing.

Ryon had obviously no experiance with wax wood staffs, or he would know of it's special attribute... Well he was about to see it up close.

As Ryon blocked some of the staff, the end of it flicked inwards like a whip, smashing against his face with a force three times as strong as the initial blow. A wax wood staff was somewhat flimsy, it bent like rubber, yet hurt like steal! Jack immediately lept backwards, facing Ryon head on. His staff slanted upwards, starting near Jack's left ankle and moving up towards his right shoulder. Right elbow bent near his side, and his hand grasped around the staff even with his chest. His left arm came down his side, pointing out at a right angle where he grabbed the staff with his left hand.

Jack was hardly intimidated by his beam sword. Jack's staff had with stood more, thanks to the special seal placed on it. Although Jack's staff my not inflict as much damage, it would certainly be enough defend against it.

"How's the hand?" Jack said tauntingly. Licking his teeth like a blood thirsty beast.

Bringin his right hand forwards he began twirling clockwise, reaching roughly 2000rpm and increasing steadily as he charged towards Ryon. A slight grin in his eye's as the loose dirt flew forwards in a crippling wave of twigs dirt, and small leaves. Creating a sort of fog-of-war, that would cover Jack as he attacked Ryon, not blocking his view of the saber do it's bright glow.

Though Jack still suffered no sight failure thanks to his rather advanced Furyan eye's. Capable of infrared vision, hunter vision, and various others that are irrelivent for this very fight.*

((Sorry, Jack, for whenever you get back on and see this. I wanted to move Ryon along, but I'm up to continue this later.))

With a temporary halt in their battle, Ryon's Animus, or beam-like weapon, disappeared in a display of sparkling, red flashes of light. He let out a deep sigh after the fight as he turned away. He hunched over a little with his gaze lowered to the ground. He did not really feel incredible exhaustion, but his bout with Jack had taken something else out of him. Even from such an arrogant wise-guy, Ryon had lost a smidgen of his confidence.

'Was it because I was holding back? But, this guy did possess some incredible technique... Maybe it's because I'm in a different world? Tsh, that never really stopped me before...' Ryon mused to himself ruefully. As he looked down at the rippling dust on the ground, still settling from their heated match, he noticed the burn marks on his left hand where Jack punctured the padding of his glove. His eyelids narrowed as he stared at the wound. It wasn't a terrible wound, and he would recover quickly from it. Really, it represented a dent in Ryon's pride, moreso than the flesh on his hand.

After glaring at it contemptuously, Ryon began to walk away without looking back. He felt he would meet and face Jack again. He never hated his opponent, not for a moment. Ryon was really not that simple. He loved a challenge more than he could ever hate a challenger. Besides, that weapons match would remain undecided until next time, and Ryon looked forward to it. Until then, he would have to brush up his skills. A trip to the infirmary to check up on Alli would precede his trip to the Dojo, however.

Ryon dragged his feet heavily in the dirt as he walked away with is head down, sable bangs hanging over his passionate, bright orange eyes. He came across the frail woman he spotted earlier and felt entirely embarrassed in front of, whether she cared to witness the fight or not. Honestly she looked pretty absorbed in her own thoughts, bringing her hand to her chest in deep thought.

Before Ryon completely passed her, he stopped. He tilted his head and grinned at her. His brash, cocky, fighting spirit was already beginning to return.

"You needed some fresh air, too, eh?" And perhaps that was the real reason Ryon had even come outside. As plain as he seemed, Ryon could be very complex underneath it all.

((IC, and completely cannon. I may take advantage of this scene later on. It's somewhat graphic. Not that bad, by my standards.))

Two muffled screams could be heard as a man dragged two small children, bound in ropes, across the parking lot to an area were there wasn't quite as much activity. The man known as Ken dropped one of the children to the floor, where it wiggled around, quickly, attempting to free itself from it's bindings.

The other child was placed on a table and could be heard despite the rope in it's mouth. With a wide grin, Ken reached down with both hands, tore the child's left leg off, and stuck the bloody foot, still twitching slightly, into his mouth. His teeth ground down on the flesh and bone as he tore the child's right leg off. By this point, tears were running down the face of the child, it's eyes swollen, and it's mouth bleeding from biting the rope so hard.

The feast continued as Ken consumed the child, first the arms, then the stomach, and finally the head. As he did this, the child that had been left on the ground continued screaming as blood and the occasional piece of bone dripped off the table onto the ground. The scene was horrific to the child on the floor, as he certainly knew he was next.

With the last bit of the child's skull now inside Ken's mouth, he looked down at the other child, grinning slightly while he chewed on the bloody mess.

Screams could be heard as the child was dragged away into a more secretive place.

((Ending it there. Not that long. Not that bad. And no, I'm not raping a child. That's just wrong. rolleyes ))

I_Am_GK Wrote:

> Julius had walked out of the infimiry, putting his black hood back upon his head, covering him in almost full shadow once more. He had to hide himself...he knew that there was a messanger from Olympus waiting to find him. This was the only way he could be somewhat safe in public. He would wish to wait for his fight against the angel... > > For now, he was looking for a bit of fun. The disgraces that were Jean and Epsilon pissed him off. He wanted to relieve stress, and he wanted it done immediately. Perhaps someone would spar him...

As Ianex approached the infirmiry to go and check on a friend of his, he noticed a hooded figure standing rather conspicuously outside. It seemed as though Ianex was the only one to notice him out of the many people coming and going from the infirmiry, and it was unclear to him why.

"Hey, you there, with the cloak of shadows...what the hell are you doing?"

I_Am_GK Wrote:

> "Say...how about a little fight? Nothing much...just a spar. I...need it."

"I thought you would never ask..." said Ianex, eyeing his new opponent up. It had been a while since he had entered a fight with no information on his opponent, and he thought that this would be quite an entertaining fight.

Without waiting for his opponent, Ianex began to ready himself, reaching up to his left shoulder and bearing his claws out. With a quick slice, Ianex's left limb fell to the ground, and some blood was issued from the wound.

Before too much blood was issued, however, the gem embedded in Ianex forehead began to glow with a beautiful emerald light, and a new limb burst forth to replace the old.

As soon as he had both limbs back, Ianex knelt to the ground to pick up his former limb and with only his touch, formed the arm into a stunning katana. It measured about 4 ft in length, all an odd black metal, reflecting the sunlight only slightly, until it met with the hilt of the blade, which held an odd red cross-stitch pattern, measuring about 1 ft in length, making the total blade 5 ft long.

Once this had finished, Ianex rose back to his full standing height and looked at his opponent to see what he had done in preperation.

Ianex, who was still not used to fighting in the full light of day just yet, decided that speed was his best bet at this point. He began to charge at Julius' left side, as it held only parchment, as opposed to a sword that looked just as deadly as his.

Roughly mid-way through his run at Julius, Ianex decided that he should approach further from the side, and thus adjusted his trajectory so that he would end up roughly ten feet to the left of Julius, ample room for Ianex to either attack or defend.

Only one thing went through Ianex's mind as he ran though, Am I going my full speed, or because its a spar, have a suppressed it enough that he can still follow my movements...

Deciding it was best to take the blunt as opposed to the sharp, Ianex allowed the stalagmite to crush into his stomach and torso, but not before Ianex changed the makeup of his body, making it slightly harder than normal, so the blow would be softened.

It was still not insignificant by any means and brought Ianex to the ground, at which point he looked up at the man and said

"Allow us to finish this later, with the night at hand, it seems like a better place for the both of us. Besides, I have a friend to meet..."

Ianex rose to his feet, dusted himself off, and walked with a slight forward lean towards the infirmiry.

Away from any hussle and bussle, the shadows around a perticular tree would all become dense, wrything and melting together.Close to instantly a large black stone arch would shove itself from the ground allowing a figure to stroll up the stair case out of his lightless world.Metal boots and grim dress like usual, he puffed his ciggarette and lounged against the trunk soaking in the night.

**"Hilarious, is what I was thinking."

She winked at him and sat on a nearby rock. Glancing over at her brother she finally realized where they were and starting laughing.

"Are you serious Tris? I mean honestly, what can we do in a tourny? It's not like we've ever competed before. Plus I am sure they aren't team fights and you know we work better as a team."

She giggled and pointed to the small bump now appearing on the back of his head,

"See you need someone to watch your back."

She glided off the rock and skipped over to him and winked,

"I guess it couldn't hurt to check it out."

With that she started walking towards the opening.**

She was trying to think of something clever to say about his eating habits when her own stomach growled at the thought of food. Laughing at it all she nodded at they began their trip into the tournament.

"Why the fuck is this rusty gate closed?" The feeling of anger escaped Cziri's lips in a simple whisper that trailed across the hallway. He looked at a simple keyhole in a little metal box holding to the array of rusty metal bars extending to the floor. His right eye, the one that examined information in the most simple packets, yet processed it at speeds that which rival that of a computer, or even supercomputer. He saw a good deal of visible light present within the shadows of the lock, and so focused it without a touch to fit the shape of a key that would match that of the keyhole. The concentrated photons felt as obilterating the lock in whole, but they were held with such constraint, something unusual for Cziri of Chaotic Light. He pushed the creation gently, and twisted it, opening the gate as the bars sunk back into the sand.

He walked on gentle soles across the sand, rather relaxed and looking towards the golden treasure in the sky, the sun. He hadn't seen his star in a while, for infact the system had been consumed a few ages ago by Cziri himself. It's just that the very nature of Cziri can cause things to reappear. Cziri's current form is a representation of the prisoner Thorniyuankezeri. The representation of that powerful figure in a dreaming world. But, that is a rather different story, for now at least. Cziri stood about seven feet tall.

Cziri wore his standard steel sandal, fitting to his foot quite well with added heel support. The darkness of the steel contrasted with the bland white cloth the wrapped around Cziri's toes, and seemingly reached slightly higher than his ankles. The feetwraps were then gently fit and fused with a portion of "daemonic skin" pants. More like magic adapting skin really, but the point is shown. The pants were a simple black and wrinkled from the nature of the skin itself. In addition to his "daemonic skin" pants, a orange armored sash fell down, like the ones some samurai would wear, and protected a good deal of his lower body. The orange sash simply had the seal of a star, or atleast something resembling a star.

Rising upwards, you could see the draping sage green longcoat, catching the wind in the air, and strangely it would look as if the longcoat was tasting the very air. It was filled with a variety of pockets, and reinforced with shifting steel plates particularly around the armpit and lower back for support, if Cziri were to need it. He wore a simple white chainmail shirt, or something that resembled it. It was more like some sort of armour that wielded metal threads and formed them into nets for support. A liquid pocket was formed within the armor to absorb impact, and this chainmail shirt was rather thick despite how thin it looked from first glance. A simple aqua blue rectangular cloth served for Cziri's scarf, tied gently around his neck before draping towards his left arm. Cziri's weapons could very lightly be seen when his long coat flapped, he currently possessed a mourtary sword and an altered claymore. Towards the arms, the longcoat's sleeves were ripped, revealing rather simple guantlets. A few strange plates of shifting admant were visible, and oddly if one looked at them, they could be mirrors. The shards of admant were attached to a blacken glove split at the knuckles and cut to reveal Cziri's palm. His other arm was fit with the same fashion.

Cziri's face was rather odd, he had gentle lips that were closed shut and of no color. They matched with Cziri's bronzed skin that oddly had a rather blue or more like a platinum luster. Traces of hair fell into Cziri's face, but a majority of it was pushed to the side. His hair was long, but form fitting to his face, curving around every angle and blanketing it. It was mainly white, but traces of mixed colors could be seen, most visibly black, silver, green and orange. His left eye was strange, where some would see the whites of eyes, you would only see black. Where one would see the iris, all there was, well was a storm of everchanging colors and patterns. His right eye had a strange greenish glow coming from the pupil while while the iris was a storm of golden and the cornea a sea of blue. A little headband refitted with steel draped towards his left eye. (Not a god damn ninja headband.) From a distance, one could see a strange metallic luster coming from all parts of his armor for an odd reason.

Cziri simply spit on Jack's face. smile

[I do believe you ment to say "spat"... Unless you where trying to say, "simply spits"]

For some reason the saliva evaporated before it even came near... Though that's if it made it past the tree in the trajectory of Jack's face. Unless of course he was standing on Shadow, but he'd have to be rather brave to do that.

Jack stared slightly dazed by the question. His face blank of expression or emotion, though his lips where moving. As if talking to himself. "My name? Uh... Names Jack... Jack Masters..." He finally said, blinking and looking away for a sec. "You know my father... Maddix Masters."

*A slow smile crept over shadow's face. A rare sight, and almost eerie in the darkness, but anyone who knew him well enough would have known that despite the evilness present in the smirk, Shadow meant no harm by it.

In fact he was pleased*

Shadow: Maddix.... Heh, yes, i know him rather well. I had no idea he had a son....

I'm also surprised that you know me.

Jack_Masters Wrote:

> crzycziri Wrote: > > crzycziri Wrote: > > > JackMasters Wrote: > > > > JackMasters Wrote: > > > > > [I do believe you ment to say "spat"... Unless you where trying to say, "simply spits"] > > > > > > > > > > For some reason the saliva evaporated before it even came near... Though that's if it made it past the tree in the trajectory of Jack's face. Unless of course he was standing on Shadow, but he'd have to be rather brave to do that. > > > > > > > > > For some reason, it didn't evaporate as Cziri is nothing like a human, he just looks like one. The saliva is denser than that of a normal human, and is not meant for eating as Cziri needs not to eat or drink. It is simply a novelty weapon and is rather fun to kill someone with just the fluctuation of such a fluid. Cziri's spit turned dark black as it oxided with the air, and would not evaporate. Cziri's location really didn't matter, he had been wandering about for quite a while, and your location is rather uhm, blurry. > The lack of specifics half way voided the movement, however the meens of evaporation were also unclear. Though Jack's author suggests magic is at work and would really have no problem evaporating any liquid, although it's specifc job would be to evaporate Cziri's saliva. Touche'. > > [found it funny Cziri tried assaulting me with my own technique points and laughs puts on wall of shame]

[It's not your own technique, it's rather common. I needed a quick post and am lazy. Besides, your attacks are reckless and rough, while mine are honed. You've used my techniques on so many occassions it has begun to piss me off.]

Shadow held his grin and looked up again Interesting to see I affected your gene pool without even being remotely related. he sneered Give your father my regards.

..And as for you. his smirk faded and turned into a genuine smile Get in line. A hundred thousand people want to slaughter me. Apparently you're a little late.

he laughed

shadow unfolded his arms and let them fall to his side, standing up so that the tree was no longer supporting him

Heheh. Smart kid. smarter than MOST. he chuckled of course, with time and practice, you may grow to be very powerful, especially if you are anything like your father.

*he sighed, though it was actually a supressed yawn, and he hesitated a moment before starting to walk.

He halted and looked back for a minute*

It was a pleasure to meet you, Jack. Best of luck to you in the tourney, and maybe we'll meet again outside of the arena. For now, I need to take my leave.

Syonara.

the hedgehog vanished in a flash of light only after waiting for jack to say anything he wanted to say

Jack_Masters Wrote:

> crzycziri Wrote: > > crzycziri Wrote: > > > JackMasters Wrote: > > > > JackMasters Wrote: > > > > > crzycziri Wrote: > > > > > > crzycziri Wrote: > > > > > > > JackMasters Wrote: > > > > > > > > JackMasters Wrote: > > > > > > > > > [I do believe you ment to say "spat"... Unless you where trying to say, "simply spits"] > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > For some reason the saliva evaporated before it even came near... Though that's if it made it past the tree in the trajectory of Jack's face. Unless of course he was standing on Shadow, but he'd have to be rather brave to do that. > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > For some reason, it didn't evaporate as Cziri is nothing like a human, he just looks like one. The saliva is denser than that of a normal human, and is not meant for eating as Cziri needs not to eat or drink. It is simply a novelty weapon and is rather fun to kill someone with just the fluctuation of such a fluid. Cziri's spit turned dark black as it oxided with the air, and would not evaporate. Cziri's location really didn't matter, he had been wandering about for quite a while, and your location is rather uhm, blurry. > > > > > The lack of specifics half way voided the movement, however the meens of evaporation were also unclear. Though Jack's author suggests magic is at work and would really have no problem evaporating any liquid, although it's specifc job would be to evaporate Cziri's saliva. Touche'. > > > > > > Maddix wasn't one to criticize Cziri's lack of specifics, as his location hadn't been stated well. I believe he looked up at Shadow, therefore giving Cziri would be in position to spit at Maddix as he had been wandering around after he left the building. Cziri's spit is of a mystical substance itself, though it would seem to be evaporated, a great deal of invisible prismatic light would weave across Maddix's face, and fill it with a flush of heat and greatly alter his cells as well as damaging his magical aura. > > > (I do believe you mean ; halfway, means, was, and its.) smile > Shadow was staited to be leaning against a tree, and Jack was said to be standing over him. Tree is in trajectory range as stated... Though just for fun: Jack's eye's lit up with a mercuric colour as a sizzling gassous light wavered out at the iridecent light. This magic easily engulfed the light as it's purpose was to eliminate invicible things. Though strangely enough, the light would inflict no damage to Jack, his inhanced cells could withstand lots more than that as invicible really only meens it can't be destroyed. Though even if it did, it wouldn't last long. As for the heat, Jack wouldn't even feal it as the blood that run through his veins is that of a Furyan. An advanced race that is immune to extreme conditions. > > But... It hit the tree so no problem... > > Jack nodded. "And the best of luck to you as well." He said, turning to walk away in the opposite direction. "Not that you'll need it." Jack body wavered as if it were a gass, and then he seemingly vanished altogether.

(What do you mean you stood over Shadow, you didn't climb or shit. And the light isn't invincible, where the hell did you get that from?) First off, its entire purpose was off course and however that can certify as an explanation for destroying the indestructable is unknown to me. Secondly, that is prismatic light and magic has shit against prismatic fire and other prismatic "elements. Prismatic light was said to be an emotion of power, and an emotion of knowledge. And in its craze for power and to bring light to the world, it would feast on the magical energy while increase the amount of prismatic light. If the magical energy was not devoured, it would be sent offcourse and Cziri's attack would still hit. Oh, bullshit, Maddix, Cziri has an explanation far better than "lole c00l cells." It doesn't matter, it wasn't really a flush of heat either, it was just what was felt. So, either a flow of radiation had rocked Maddix's skin, or his nerves had been rocked and spazzed out after the attack.

The prismatic light would damage a large part of Maddix's aura and mana, therefore damaging his mind as well. Prismatic light is also much more effective than natural light. So, in the flow of high energy rays, a few of the "photons" would exchange their energy with a few atoms near Maddix's cheek, starting off a sort of internal nuclear reaction. Other cells and organic substances would have been damaged before the nuclear explosion due to the nature of radiation on its own. The prismatic light had taken a path to Maddix's brain to fry it in something like a microwave, if the explosion didn't beat the light to it.

A flash of Black Lightning crawled across the sky as a ray of darkness shined down, the Black Lightning giving off darkness instead of light. This was possible as it was dark energy infused with electricty, the darkness corrupting the electricty so it would surge through but not give off light but indeed darkness.

The ray of darkness would show distinctively as sudden atoms would speed around in the dark ray. They slowly composed a proper structure to fit the man in it. His name was Roy Odisiouix. He infused colorless mana into a surrounding tree's bidning energy and converted the mana before infusing self regulating energy into the binding energy converting it to his energy signature. he then suddenly released the bindign energy, the tree completely falling apart as it's gravitational pull was gone and it had no force at all keeping it together. The remains of what composed the tree suddenly ignited and welded together via psionics to form a simple chair. The chair suddenly gave off an aura before the aura surrounded it and the chair moved through the air as Roy sat on it. He watched this fightn and hoped both these bitches would die. he hated each of them for different reasons.

"They used to impress me, now the humour me." Roy said to himself floating in the air in the chair watching. The Black lightnign dissipated as it was far nough away to never intrvene in any way before it dissipated as Roy moved in closer in the air to watch from a distance.

[You said it damaged the magical barrier, that's it. Stop going back and changing crap, and Jack has a reason for regeneration as well as his mind being in a different place. The same as with Maddix.

I would tell you how/why it regenerates, and all that other jazz if it wasn't for the fact it hit the tree. Sorry Cziri, your attacked failed and I played along, but I don't wish to argue with you about it. And for the record I said it dissolved his skin as well... Wich your lucky I gave that, though either way it doesn't matter. =D

And your mistaken, Jack can see radiation. You are also mistaken in how a nuclear explosion works. If a simple photon caused a nuclear explosion. Then it would not be possible to put satalites in space. Let alone space ships... Plus, all the bits and pieces of trash rocketing around our solar system would cause explosions frequently as I don't believe they have any solar system f**k up the 'radiation'... If you didn't know, radiation is a result of nuclear fusion and likes. Not the maker...

But thus, all is unimportant as it hit the tree as Jack's author decided. Though it was fun playing along. ;D

See ya in the tourny.]

[Two Jack's! OMG Imposter! Actually, evidently Jack Masters is the name of NPC on Gaia. That's why I have the underscore inbetween my name. shrugs Guess i'm not as spechol as I thought. Visual refference:http://i19.photobucket.com/albums/b166/MadDix/wallpaper800edited.jpg ]

Jack turned half way, his left side facing the onlooker. He wore a ravishing white, tunic, of sorts. A brown belt around his abs to provide carrying slot's for his four mystical daggers, as well as at least some form of light armor. A thin red scarf tied around his waist, just below the rather unusual belt, it's end dangling down to mid thigh. His hood, also of the pale white colour was flopped over his head, keeping most of his facial features an utter mysters. The end of the hood came down into a slight point as it fell down over his forehead. Presenting a familiar resemblence to that of a eagle's beak. Though considering his familiar is an eagle, evidence would suggest it was done on purpose.. The hood casted a dark shadow over Jack's face, ending just beneath the nose and leaving only his thin lips viewable.

The only other viewable armor aside from his belt, wich alone is hardly anything. Jack wore two identicle Nirvana Bracers, made of inch-thick dragon-skin and reinforced with glass-steel rods, these specially made bracers will reduce energy attacks by 50%, as well as providing a wearer with a decent way of blocking. However this pair of bracers has been enhanced by Shin to absorb the 50% of energy and dissipate it in the basest form, so that the original attacker cannot get it back. These bracers can also generate spherical fields around the fists, so that one can block easier. Though if wished the energy absorbed by the bracers, after being dissipated, can be transfered to the hands to reinforce the sphereical fields or for use of the users own bidding.

He carrierd single sword on his left hip, Glamdring, also known as "Foe-Hammer" and a few others depending on who exactly you talk to. It's of an elvish nature and being so carries with it deep magical powers, most of wich yet to be discovered.

Jack awaited his opponent to make the first move. Although a cold blooded killer, and being insane in more minds than his own, Jack was still a gentlemen.

Dizzy stared at the man in front of her. Scanning his overly huge body she was slightly hesitant. This guy was sort of intimating (Sp?). With his hooded face, she decided this wasn't going to be life or death, kind of thing but more of a game. Slipping her hand into the sky she would snap her hand. Falling from the heaven's seemed like a heavenly sword. The handle was white, with swirls of loctus flowers if seen closely. The actaul blade was long, four feet at least, and shined in the sun. She decided to use the sword, becasue it was given to her a long time ago and SHOULD probably be practiced with.

All she really knew how to use where her fan's, which didnt' seem like they could actaully effect the man in front of her. Stabbing the sword in the ground for a moment she would move her hand to her hair, Placing it up into a slender ponytail she smiled brightly at the man. She placed up her left hand in , one index finger pointing skyward. The other one clenched the sword next to her.

"Now now. Before I rush into things. No KILLING. No tricks, and winner treats the loser to dinner."

She said with a brighter smile, trying to lighten up the mood. EVEN though this guy seemed... well scary. <_<; Lifting the sword, both hands would be on the handle. Picking up her feet, she would push off, the speed was doubled for every two steps, coming five feet towards him she would jump into the sky. The sun taking place of wher eher body was, she would lower downward, hopefully the sun blinding Jack for the moment. ><;;

(( DUDE My brother was jumped! XD ))

Dizzy Graves Wrote:

> Sith Solaries Wrote: > > Sith Solaries Wrote: > > > He walked outside with the utmost lack of description ever. > > > (( XD; ))

((You love it. x3. ))

Dizzy Graves Wrote:

> Sith Solaries Wrote: > > Sith Solaries Wrote: > > > Dizzy Graves Wrote: > > > > Dizzy Graves Wrote: > > > > > Sith Solaries Wrote: > > > > > > Sith Solaries Wrote: > > > > > > > He walked outside with the utmost lack of description ever. > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > (( XD; )) > > > > > > ((You love it. x3. )) > > > (( Holy [Censored] Thank you for the HUGE donation!!!!!! O___O -Jaw dropped when seen.- ))

((No problem.))

[[I've been jumped twice in my experiance in this world... Kinda fun actually, but I'm just freaky like that.]]

Jack duely noted the sword falling from the sky and halfway decided to intercept it. Though that would be to easy and it looked like an old family heirlooml, stealing such a priceless possession from this girl would be pointless, as he didn't know for sure how much he could muck it for.

He instead opted to lay back and wait. He didn't move once watching the girl catch the sword as she rooted it into the ground. Another mistake to make against Jack, yet again it didn't seem like much fun to deal with her sword that way either.

A beutiful smile appeared just viewable under his shady hood. He spoke, "Dinner? That's good I'm quite hungry, not to mention broke." He smirked playfully. "So if in the off chance that you do best me, I hope you're accustomed to 'eat and run' cause I don't think my credit's good enough to take out a lone."

Jack continued his still frame as she charged forwards. Agressive. He though, studying her posture and grip on the sword. I like it... He finishing thinking as she went airborne. He followed her into the sky, but was in no way blinded. Had the young blonde lady been on the ground she could have seen why the sun had no affect, but alas, she was airborne still incapable of viewing Jack's whole face. Infact, Jack was not human like he appeared, Jack was of the Furyan race. His pupils and irisis all one thing, like a ball of liquid mercury they sat in the center of his eye's and shifted through the blinding solar ray's of the sun, reflecting invicible light back out [somewhat like a cat] and thus remaining in perfect view of his lady friend.

He took a small step to the left with his forwards left leg, piviting the right side of his body to form a 90 degree turn. Ending up facing the lasses back. He struck his left hand upwards and latched onto her leg as he whipped downwards into the sandy floor. Releasing his grip and crossing his arms as she plumited back to sea level.

Jack had indeed let go of her leg so her flip/kick/slash would prove to be inaffective. Although it does work, and no Jack's author didn't try and do it, simply played it through in his head. Though in some cases he has acted out his melee moves.

So as she performed her twirl on the ground, she would be visisted by a saphire ball of Chi, already on it's way to his foe and travelling fast. If she had time, she would see Jack's arm out stratched, his palm facing her. Evidently the source of the spherical ball of energy.

Since the lady had flipped up to perform the kick, the ball of chi would slam her back into the ground, probably causing her clothing to burn up a bit, and suffer a few minor burns depending on how strong her own Chi field is. Nothing that couldn't be fixed by the expert healers located in the infirmary. Two of wich Jack had the utmost faith in.

[True I did not say, "let go of her leg". But pay attention to the bolded in this quote from my post...

Quote: Wrote:

> He struck his left hand upwards and latched onto her leg as he whipped downwards into the sandy floor. Releasing his grip and crossing his arms as she plumited back to sea level.

[Read carefully. ;D]

Jack simply raised his left arm, assuming your his left side since you catapulted with your left leg. So the blade slams into the Nirvanna Bracer on his arm, the kinetic energy of the chop filters through the bracer and blasts back out of tiney holes in the bracer back at the girl chest and neck.

The needles of energy together would equal twice that of the initial chop, there were five needles total, two of target either side of her asophagus. Not a potent area but likely to cause her to lose the abillity to breath for a while, possibly passing out to do lack of blood flow. One more was targeted just above the navel, another target that will cause the lounges to deflate and cause air to become low. The last two would be sent at her shoulders, to push her back away from him.

(( Its your Birthday?

Happy Birthday! : D ))

((*heart You suck. : D. heart*

I gots to go and mow the lawn. >o; GIRLS Should not be subjected to labor. I try to tell my father that but he doesn't understand. So I'll be back in an hour. >< ))

(( Ha ha. Its true. ;~; But I really do hate manual labor. There are much more fun things you could use your energy for. Such as shopping, yoga and such things.

Mowing the lawn, and sweating until the grass sticks to your ankles is not something I want to do. r_r; Sorry for feeling such a way. : P ))

(( Your old font was better. > razz ))

Looking upward, she would stare into the eyes for a moment, examine the hair and the forehead, and then smile, her bright golden orbs closing. Her hand would grasp his hand, and be helped up. She almost was going to a brat and poke him but decided not too. <_<; She wiped her ass off and then picked up her sword. Flipping it around in one hand for a moment, she would toss it into the sky a straight arrow toss that would soon burst into a small amount of energized loctus pedals. She dusted her hands off and then looked back at Jack.

"Actaully, as much as I am hungry. I can as well tell when someone could whip my ass with a single hand and you are probably one of those people. So in a way I did give in to defeat, only to not waste time but fill my stomach!"

She said with a laugh. : P

"Doesn't matter."

She said with a smile.

In the distance a few quiet popping sounds can be heard as they literally burst from the inside, their blood forcing its way out. For a moment Trei would feel a certain grip upon the entirety of his being, his blood flowing within him at a rate that was not proper. Lightheadedness would come for a moment as then his body began to bulge, flows of blood pressing out and flowing through the spaces between his organs as ther whole tried to leap from his body. With particular force his nose would begin to bleed and he'd start coughing up blood too thick to be his own, even his skin slowly letting blood flow clean through, some getting on his sandwhich, making it DAMNED disgusting. In mere moments he would be covered in the fluid of life itself, a pair of eyes blinking up at him from his own arm, each formed from blood.

Well while its true that people usually don't just ooze blood, when an insane blood magus choses you as the end point for a Bloodwalk, it does get rather nasty. The eyes pull away, along with most of the blood that has pulled itself from Trei, but his nose would not stop bleeding for about a day. The nosebleed wasn't anything significant, just enough to be annoying, and because it wasn't his blood that was leaking from his nose, he wouldn't have to worry about bloodloss.

Up from the blood a man slowly emerged, hunched over and wearing no form of footwear. His black pants, blue shirt, and camo jacket seemed to be largely stained with blood, his hair matted to his head and likewise encrusted into a horrific crown. A badge was pinned not to his shirt, but passing through to be lodged in between two ribs as if he had been stabbed with it. His breath expelled a cloud of sweet lifeblood, the rush filling his ear with the Song of Blood. He looked over Trei with wild eyes, "No....loitering..."

From between his lips a tendrils of blood shot out to grab the sandwhich and disolve it into the stream. Before it sealed back within his lips, the sandwich was gone and a demented grin was upon his lips. His wild eyes and gestures gave clues to his state of less than sanity, his body bulging as he seemed to be trying to explode from his skin. His voice gargled with blood as he cried out, "Homeless! Vagabond! Lawless! C...Craven will arrest you for loitering! They'll see I'm not useless! I'll be GPD again!" And with that, quite simply, his chest exploded. More specifically, his badge shot forth from his chest, a stream of blood pushing it on at extreme speeds, the blood within having formed up significant pressure. By all means it seemed strong and sharp enough to punch through Trei entirely and leave behind the tainted blood. One has to stop and ask themselves why the GPD makes their badges out of strong materials, however...

Trei arches an eyebrow and sidesteps the stream with relative ease... it isn't that big, after all, and since it had exploded from the guy's chest, Trei's eye had managed to catch small precursor signs, such as the small bulge in the flesh before it gave way.

Not willing to stay too close, though, he turns so that he is facing almost perpendicular to the Badge's flight-path and leaps back a ways, his eye watching both opponent and blood so that he won't be caught off-gaurd.

By now, though, the kid is pissed. That fucker ate his sammich!!

Trei strafes to the side... and the thing curves. Wonderful. Nothing like being chased by blood in the moonlight to get one's heart pumping.

'Course, the adrenaline is flowing too... after two forfeits, our hero is only too glad to get a chance to redeem himself after his match with the speed demon. So, he starts playing to win.

First and foremost, he has to get rid of the tracking ball of doom... He COULD try and shake it... or he can go ahead and break it. With a grin, he switches direction and charges directly at the Arena's wall, allowing the ball to close in bit by bit...and then, just as he seems to be colliding with the wall, he actually begins pumping UP the walls surface, the balls of his feet launching him up the wall with bounding leaps, finding just enough purchase on the arena's rough surface to carry him roughly eight feet off the ground...

Bugger... it had seemed like such a good idea too, and cool at that. With a grimace, Trei kicks off the wall at an angle, away from the twin gobs of greasy grimey Craven blood, hitting the ground in a tuck-and-roll before turning to face his attack head on... Time to come up with a plan B.

As the twin orbs near him, Trei whips Glory, sheathe and all, away from his left waist... Maybe this will work. As the first ball enters range (about 7 feet), he brings the sword around to divert the balls path out to the right, using the wood of the sheathe almost as a bat. If it didn't parry the ball, it would at least pop it away from Trei's body... Either way, the blade would then rebound to knock the second orb to the left.

At first, it looks as if Trei's ploy has failed.... and yet, the young man's smile never falters. And why should it? A parry, after all, is a technique designed to redirect an opponent's strike. And in this, Trei has suceeded most excellently.

Still, no way in hell he's gonna let that stuff touch him. So, even as the second orb is going all silly-putty, the young man simply releases his grip on the sheathe and swings his blade in a sharp horizontal arc, the blade stopping pointed towards the new goo-ball. As simply as that, Trei has a projectile; the sheathe is flung forward by the strike's momentum, and hurtles through the air towards goo-ball #3 as Trei brandishes the now-naked blade.

Behind Glory, Trei's emerald eye flashes... it's time to go on the offensive.

At this point, Trei is having a bit of a Joker moment... "HE STOLE MY BALLOONS!!" No time to piss and moan, though... Rather, he charges forward, bringing Honour out to slam up into the first of the two orbs in a repeat of the last set, hopefully rebounding to smash into the second one. Should it go the same way as last time, the young man plans to immediately release the sheathe. If not... well, he'll worry about that road when he comes to it.

Tier Up

See, that chain of events is all well and good... 'cept, Trei never goes through act of throwing the sheathe at the next orb. Having seen the fate of the last one, Trei instead thrusts the sheathe into the soft ground, burying the wooden casing and drawing his sword from within it rapidly, his hand escaping as the first tendrils of ichor grasp at it. The fifth orb he strafes away from (to the left), staying clear of the giant blood puddle for the moment...

This game is getting old... For some reason, his opponent hasn't bled out yet, and Trei can't exactly go charging into a blood user's giant blood puddles...However, Trei's eye lights on something... It just might work, s'long as he can keep his opponent off-guard.

With grin never failing, the young man suddenly changes direction, gathering speed and relaxing his muscles as much as possible, preparing for a ploy that will probably require every ounce of agility he's got to his name. Luckily for him, acrobatics are his specialty...

Sonovabitch'sgreatauntsally, this guy was bloody. And, from the looks of it, he was prepping something REALLY nasty. No time to play games anymore.

Knowing the danger he is charging headlong into, Trei suddenly leaps into the air, landing for a split second atop one of the sheathes that he and his opponent had so thoughtfully buried in the ground. From his isle amidst the sea of blood, the young man takes flight again, whipping Glory around (right hand blade) for a mighty diagonal slash that, if it hits, will rend the man's upper half of his body from his lower. While Trei has tried his damnedest to avoid fatal moves thus far, this guy is seriously asking for it...

With a wet slice the blade passes through Craven's body, but he doesn't seemed to mind at all. Flowing out from the severed sections is a thicker blood that seems to hold him in place, almost as if the body contained something, a mere shell. From that moment the glow about them seemed to cast a shadow across Craven's face that seemed to highlight his madness, and then it intensified. Everything was left as a crimson glow as the entire expanse was lifted up, pulling out and away from them. The ground seemed to have hardened tremendously and the dome had been completed.

When the glow faded Craven was nowhere to be seen, just a face, an image upon the walls of the eerily glowing dome. His form had sunk down into the blood and was carried away. Even now the blood was soaking through the ground to reinforce the already powerful and reinforced ground upon which Trei would most likely land. Any means of getting out would be a difficult thing to do, mostly as pressing against it would likely get one pwnt and most forms of teleportation and like abilities seemed nullified, as if the blood would catch the effect and turn it back.

Slice, slice, slice, slice....god damn slice was a horrible soda, and I'll be damned if that move wasn't a horrible waste of time. Helicopter Trei doesn't do too much, kinda like slicing through water. Oooooh, blade goes through and it closes up right after. Now THATS effective. Craven's face just kinda rolls across the blood and stares at Trei, "What the FUCK are you doing?" Oh, and then theres the whole thing where the face then sprays blood at him in a cone.

((Wondering what you meant by speaking of monkeys. XD I just hadn't read yet.))

Yeah, a stab in the face is about that effective, if not less, not to mention it kinda gets blood all over his sword. Ew. As for the face, yeah, it did spray blood again, but two other faces were up above, spraying down to get that shit all the fuck over him. w00t for bloodsplatter!

The most important detail to note would be that the blood from each spray had joined and now covered about one half of the floor, though in spots and blood splatter here and there. The blade dragged along, and the blood simply closed up behind it, leaving a thin layer upon the blade. The next assault comes not from the walls, but the blade as small tendrils of blood leap up to begin engulfing Trei's hand, a series of faces watching from the walls.

The blood flows up and starts coiling about his hand, trying to push between his fingers and the blade while also lurching up his arm. The section of the wall at which Trei has launched himself seemed to shift twofold, first launching a spray directly at him while stretching at his approach. There were two outcomes to this problem. The first would be that he would rebound back and have a fun bounce around the dome. The second would be that the stretching portion would break off and bubble around him, and stay with him.

The blood seems to linger in the air about him, the fragmented bubble falling away and leaving the blood as a fine mist. Breathing would be a very bad thing to do right now, and even if he could stop before he realized what was happening, the blood would coat him in a fine layer unless he could get it/himself away somehow. The dome seems to shift as Craven is seen bursting up from the top, tendrils of blood flowing from the wound about his middle to hold him up. These tendrils seem to pass through the dome and are clearly seen springing out from the closest points to Trei, reaching to connect with the blood covering his hand. On that note, while it may not press in around the blade easily, it does push up around his arm...and begin to squeeze.

Only a small bit coats Trei's front half, as yet too little to produce any significant effect. The blade is flung, grows wings, and stops, just like the sheathes had, but this one is pointy! Besides, even if it doesn't stop entirely, this bitch is going Doc Ock on his ass! Slap that shit with a sticky tendril and have some real fun! The tendrils continue to track that hand, seeking to meet up with it as parts of the blood begin to solidify and press against his skin, gripping and trying to push inwards like teeth...

The tendrils and newly acquired blade pause for a moment as Craven's eye twitches. It is not in confusion, but in rage, two words bubbling up, "I. Tried." A flurry of motion would pass through Trei's field of vission before the blood about his arm seemed to explode. What had happened was that Craven not only dove back into the sphere, but had forced it into a wave directed at Trei. In his dive he had initiated a Bloodwalk, flowing through the blood of the sphere and linking up to the blood on Trei's arm through the harmony of the Song of Blood.

From here Craven would quite literallly be right in Trei's face, two tendrils from his midsection reaction to wrap around Trei while he thrust his hands forward to grab his skull and, if possible, push his thumbs into Trei's eyes. At a mere touch the sound of blood would fill his ears, a neverending pounding and rush of fluid as he seemed to be expanding and contracting all at once. This mere touch was trying to enforce the same status upon Trei that Craven held, trying to force his blood to attain a sort of sentient status and leap from his body.

The shell's head and parts of his upper torso are obliterated, but up from the gore a thick flow of blood reshapes into a basic head structure. There would be one oddity to this, and that would be that Trei would see it happening. Why, might you ask? Simple, the blood leaving his body had not taken any random sentience, but one that remained somewhat as a carbon copy of that of the man himself, if not simply taking the whole of the man's being with it.

Craven, not understanding the change he has emplaced upon the boy, grabs the leg of the emptied shell and pulls it from the ground. His own blood begins to pull away as a small wave forms about his feet, carrying him off while dragging the useless and decimated shell. Trei would easily be able to form another, and would likely do so automatically, but he would be DAMN hungry afterwards, the process using any and all biological components in the blood not related to the cellular structure of the blood itself.

At long last, the young man's eyes flutter open, the world swimming for a moment in a sea of silvery velvet; then, at last, things come back into focus. An almost full moon, a cool breeze; that's right, he had been walking after his fight with the Devil.

Why was he on the ground, though? Even as the question enters the young man's mind, a more pressing realization strikes him; the night breeze is washing over way more of him than it should be.

With a groan and a growl of his stomach, the young man forces himself into a sitting position, trying very foggily to answer a truly important question: Why is he naked?

"Such a long time.." The dark-clad mercenary muttered to himself, shakily getting to his feet; knees shifting a bit here and there, as though ready to break out beneath him. Yet, he managed to shift his right leg apart just a bit in order to catch a shifty level of balance, as his feet dug into the trickle dirt ground beneath him. Omi was, again, out in the forests leading away from the arena, sunlight just barely reaching him beneath the thick foilage. And from the looks of him, he had been practicing out there for many hours. Perhaps, too many, for he looked rather exhausted.

Still, his amber-brown eyes held plenty of focus. Pupils staring readily ahead at his next target. All around him, smoke ebbed off the ground as though a fresh forest fire had just ended; the etched flames which existed but moments ago still made their prescence known in the burns lining the soil and yellowing grass about him. Sweat was dripping along his skin slowly, and his breathing was irregular - at panting's level, nearly.

Leaning forward, Omi raised his right arm forward. The chain mesh was on beneath his clothing, obviously, as it lead up to the fingertipless gauntlet covering his hand. Yet, as he thrusted said palm forward, all five fingertips pointed forward; a human hand making a claw-like gesture. And then, with a quick grunt of exhaustion, five crimson red 'lights' festered at any given fingertip. Then, all at once, the five lights in the shape of 'serpents' shot forward directly; not taking the time to manipulate them about, they shot a good fifty yards in but a few moments, before stopping in place. Each end touching the bark of a tree.

Wearily raising his left hand, the mercenary snapped his fingers, as a wave of fire spiralled around the path of these 'serpents' in a fury, before hitting the tree dead on. At the impact point, the sheer force of the flames striking the cedar wood decimated it; fire roaring along it as the area was cast into the glow of fire, the tree being knocked off it's well-routed foundation & falling to the dirt before being eaten away. After the small explosion & ignitation of flames, the trunk also lit ablaze; merely disappearing in the distorted air's heat waves. Licking his lips once before taking a deep breath in order to stabalize it, Omi then lowered his left hand vertically - as the fires followed suit, flickering out into non-existance - before he fell on his right knee, breathing deeply.

Yet, a grin formed across his lips. Weary thoughts came to his mind, "Alright, coming along nicely. Time to step this up a notch.." Forcing himself up again, right hand upon respective knee in order to aid it coming upright once more - Omi let both his hands come out this time. Once again, a red light began to flicker at his fingertips, illuminating the dark forest dimly. Except, this time, he guided the lights; pointing one finger to his left, an index finger to the right, a ring finger towards the roots of another tree. And these 'serpents' followed.

Ten 'lights'. Ten trees. Bowing his head for a moment, Omi continued breathing shakily, before inhaling deeply - and clenching his fists together, the sound of his knuckles cracking audible. At once, a brilliant show of flames flowed outward, soaking each tree & severing them from their roots, before slowly raising their burning frames into the air. Then, his right hand, palm forward, began to wave back and fourth horizontally - as the ten flaming hunks of bark spiralled around him in a violent circle. Faster, faster.. chips of fire & wood flying off in random directions. Then, with a howl, his left arm rose up - then forward violently, palm first at it's reach.

All ten flaming masses shot off, causing untold chaos about him. Dust kicked up, fire flew off in any given direction, brush lit up in an instant & died away.. and then, as all settled down, the area was now well illuminated. Powerful embers, in colors of yellow, orange, and red encircled Omi and than some; the sound of crackling flames audible for at least a mile, easily, as some masses of flaming bark flew over his head. Still, falling to his right knee much more swiftly this time, the mercenary rose up his right arm high, then slapped the hand down upon the ground palm first. The flames began to die out in an unnatural 'gust', until they existed no more - though, it looked like the area'd been a battlefield but moments ago.

Shaking his head to the right, then left quickly to flick away sweat - Omi wearily staggered forward & upon his feet. Occasionally faltering a step. "*When the next round comes.. it's mine.*"

The embodiment of Genesis has found himself laying upon little more than a weak updraft along the coliseum walls. A light tap sends him floating away in a slow drop as he gives a listless sigh, bored beyond all reason. The fights he had been looking forward to in order to test his skill had ended with the opposition simply giving up. He had come not to claim any great prize and advance through easy defeats, he had come to grow and expand his own existance through experience.

He felt himself shrinking.

Tac gave a sigh as the man fell past him, and if he had the drive he was quite sure he could have saved the man, but was it his place? Did the man's Thread end there? But also was it not his duty to preserve the Threads and extend existance? He gave a shrug as he floated off, heading away from the walls. He always was a lazy man.

Tac was floating about ten feet overhead not far away, hanging upside down with gaze cast down at the monolith of flesh and armor. He gave a smile and a wave, "Hey! whatcha doing with being all fighter-y about it?"

Tac just gave an odd smile as he looked down to the metallic monolith of massive maliciousness. As he did so the author would like to point out he's tired and alliterates when in such a state. Tac's own reaction times, for one, went beyond the supernatural, for unlike Marty McFly he could totally think fourth dimensionally, see that way too. His base reaction speeds seemed to be a sliver quicker than the timeline itself, and seeing as he could either use the Sight of the Fated as a limited precognition/hindsight ability to rewrite recent events or simply just react with his incredible reactions speeds on top of a time dialation effect, we'll just have to wait for that actually throw that should supposedly kill this jubilant man.

((It mainly helps me refute instakills and planar psionics. Tacitus can lower to anyone's level and not get beaten by experience. XD))

Tacitus just kept smiling as the lance SMASHED into some sort of invisible wall. What had happened was quite simple, a temporal field of stopped time had been employed and once the lance struck it the air molecules resisted motion as they were temporarily stopped in time, and if nonmagical the lance would also be stopped at the very tip. The fact of it crumpling or not is entirely up to the opponent, as the composition is unknown, merely the fact that all that force has to go somewhere, and simply can't go into the wall, which is stopped in time. Tacitus was almost giggling to himself as he moved over to peek over the side of the wall, only partially visible behind it, "Kekekekeke. You're funny, trying to lance me and all." He seemed to push off the wall of stopped time and begin a slow dance in the air, floating down ever so slowly. His own perceptions were enhanced so as to work now in a sort of perpetual bullet time in addition to his shortsighted precognition. A glow seemed to dance about his eyes from behind his shades as he spoke in a different tongue, incomprehensible to anyone who couldn't talk backwards really really fast. It was a prayer, asking for divine aid in the form of reality manipulation...also known as a spell of divine origin much like a priest or a cleric would use.

((XD Theres a reason Tac is more than just filler for this tournament. XD))

Tac gave a shurg and rolled a few feet away before releasing the Time Wall, and when he did a pulse of kinetic force shredded the air where he had been. The attack by the lance continued even without the lance, and Tac could only smile contentedly to himself as he floated about.

It was a bit wet out today. Razen never let this bother him when he was in a mood to practice, and he wasn't about to let it bother him now. It had become his routine since he had recooperated from the breaking of his ribs. Fortunately his black coat was made for this sort of weather, and hunched within it he makes his way to a patch of level ground outside the arena, his boots squelching as he walks. When he reaches the patch, he closes his eyes and lets the rain fall onto him, soaking into his raven-black hair and dripping down his pale face. After some brief stretching, he smoothly moves into a series of martial arts style exercises...with some differences, of course, formed by his personal preferences and his unique abilities. Half an hour after he started, Razen wipes the sweat mingled with rain from his brow and begins the trudge back to the warmth and dryness of the dormitories to dry off and wait for the next round to be announced.

Walking along the dirt path was Vishnu, when he came into earshot he simply announced his presence by taking his last two steps more heavily than the others. He then folded his arms and looked over at Robin, whom he'd come here to fight.

Vishnu doesn't say a word, after all it was Robin who'd summoned him here to fight him, so he's obviously a bigger Nimrod than Vishnu initially thought. Vishnu's outfit, hair, and eyes entirely shifted from purple to red {Elemental Shift: Fire}

He releases his arms from their folded position and lets them rest limply at his side. A single mildly silver colored kunai hidden in the sleeve of his yukata dropped into his left palm.

Vishnu, maybe only SLIGHTLY underestimating Robin sidesteps the knives, avoiding them entirely. However, a small line appears across his cheek and a bit of blood trickles down. The knife may have missed him, but the aura still grazed his cheek. The kunai in Vishnu's hand begins to glow orange and it's image begins to distort slightly from the immense heat concentrating around it.

He throws the knife at Robin and as it flies through the air it continues to heat up, but at an exponential rate. The effect? Once the kunai reaches halfway between Robin and Vishnu, it will explode from the high rate at which heat energy is gathering inside of and around it. By this time it should also have become molten. Instead of a kunai threatening to pierce Robin, a flurry of extremely heated liquid metal droplets will be flying towards him.

Still in his bulky armor, yet still nimble, Corant Ja`Kalie watched the battle from afar. His Particle Rifle was already in his hand. No one, especially Robin, would be able to near him without getting several dozen rounds in him. He was weary of everything about him and would react before anyone was able to get within fifty feet of him, and likely even notice them and be alert to them at 100 feet.

Robin come blood rage at Vishnu with extream courage, Robin jumps and throws a tank of liquid at Vishnu. Robin then lands after he jumps and pulls out a tin box which would be a lighter and Robin throws it at the liquid substance on Visnu and around him. Soon for some reaon fire start to occur and visnu is now on fire and it is all around him. The tin box happen to be a lighter.

(( He did it before on a grenade/neck break attack that was edited. More than likely, he is gonna keep on doing godmodding/autohitting in the future. Good luck on dealing with it. ))

Little does Robin know that by setting Vishnu aflame he is only exacerbating the problem. After Vishnu is entirely engulfed in flames they shoot up into the sky in a gigantic pillar of fire, and his sillhouette can be made out in the inferno. The pillar is so hot that any human standing within ten feet of it's skin will begin to blister.

A single 6 inch in diameter stream of fire shoots out straight towards the center of Robin's belly.

((...Just an FYI, heat melts ice. No matter what. Only time it doesn't is in Absolute Zero or other Bose-Einstein moments.

...So, actually, the frozen parts of the knives would melt. And depending on the intensity of the flames, the knives themselves might melt.

...Oh well. STILL waiting for Robin to find SOME way to fight correctly without godmodding.

...Lost cause much?))

For someone who'd just seen one of her closest friends just die, D' was rather calm. She walked out of the arena, chewing on cotton candy. She saw the world through black Romanis, black booted feet carrying her past the grand front gate, down the stairs, and just into the parking lot or whatever equivalent there was.

It was here that she stretched purple gloved hands over her head and yawned, just before dropping the bag of cotton candy to the ground at her feet and speaking aloud to apparently nobody.

"Tel'Rune approved ressurection on Lazenca Miranda. Time and day is [7:42 AM CST on Feb. 7, 2007]. Performed by D' Aire, former Daraku Tenchi. No enhancers."

A circle was drawn around her, the color of it as purple as her eyes, the highlights in her hair. Her right hand lifted lazily, palm down. She took a breath, and a circle surrounded her wrist as her wings unlocked from their dormant position around her that they would sit as a cape. The leathery appendages opened slowly, revealing a suprisingly large wingspan.

"One."

The circle below filled out to a magical crest unique to her, geometric shapes framing words in a language none could decipher. The circle about her wrist moved past her extended fingertips, and filled out into a black vaccuum that slowly pushed itself back over her arm, up to the elbow.

Shagrath the Unholy Wrote:

> Somewhere in the Abyss was Lazenca's eternal self; Shagrath's underlings were ever so happy to get a new toy.

"Two."

Shagrath's underlings would be then sorely dissapointed as their toy was taken from them. Be as children and cry, throw a fit, and fight for the toy as another authority removes it from the pen. She shifted a foot back to support her, for something was pulling, something did seem unwilling to relinquish control. The struggle would last but a second, and her right arm was yanked out of the void. The fist was closed, surrounded in a white aura.

It wasn't their underworld. That would be her excuse for having trouble at all.

"Three!"

Her left arm swept from her chest to the hole her hand'd entered and that circle collapsed upon itself.

"...Four."

She rolled her right shoulder, shaking that dead feeling off her with a good shudder. After a few rotations, she held the hand close to her body, at the waist. A twist of the hips, and she seemed to throw a hard body straight into nothing, an invisible matter that exploded with a backlash of black flames. It was from this that the body was recalled and the soul thrust back into it.

Lazenca was either going to fall straight down onto his back or face... or fly backwards and skid into a tree or something else comical. She usually only resurrected normal citizens and fighters, never someone she knew and could have fun with.

yeah well you suck and you just got lucky during our last match!

((...Ok, Robin, you want a rematch so you can get owned again? Unless you're scared, like I'd expect you to be.

Yes, that's a challenge, bitch. I'm tired of your immense failure and stupidity wrapped into a large ball of yarn.

And now the ball of retarded yarn continues to unroll...Fucking nOOb.))

Corant cracked his knuckles. He really wanted to fight this kid, Green Robin.

Ah but Robin had fire proof armor, satnderd issue vest provided by the swat team well what he was a part of. Robin just takes the heat not affecting him. But the trees stratb to burn away then Robin all of the sudden runs towerd the nearby pool and obtains huge amounts of water while every thing was burning but for waht purpose. Why could have robin get water when fire was every where, well find out soon.

Luckly Robin has a radio in his pocket and calls for a speacallized jet to fight off The vishnu and buy some time for Robin to actually ecape. Robin calls and waits at least 1 turn for the jet to arrive. Pilot: We recived your call now all we need is your coordinates Robin: My cordinates are 1-232-21-2 at Fair oaks Blvd street. Pilot: alright just hold while we come by and exactly waht was the reason you called us? Robin: Yes i need help right waay this freaking guy or freak that calls hyimself the VISHNU is out to get me and hes on fire and i mean literly man. Pilot: well be there as fast as possible. Robin calls for the jet just as soon as he got huge amounts of water in a container just in case but later then he finds out that its no good becuase it turned out to be boiling water. The jet will come and luckly he warned the pilot that it was fire all over the place and now the jet speacialized a fire proof jet in the factory.

As robin stands there making his time consuming radio call the heat is still continuing to rise to dangerous levels. Robin should be feeling rather dehydrated by now, not to mention the exceedingly lowered oxygen levels due to all the burning fuel from exploded cars and ash from incinerated foliage/people.

Meanwhile inside of the gigantic pillar of fire Vishnu grows very tired with the amount of time it's taking for Robin to die. He puts out both his arms and eight razor sharp rings of metal appear around his arms. The rings are 6 feet in diameter and they are beginning to spin at rapid speeds. {Dark element: Chakram}

Vishnu chuckles slightly when he sees the jet enter the area. He then spins his body around one time unleashing the eight chakram at near bullet speeds straight towards Robin. They are flying through the air stacked vertically 6 inches apart from one another. The top one aimed for Robin's neck. {Fire element: Dance of Fire Minor Eight}

Now standing apparently in fire the Zonei would let one maroon puppil trail over the chaos.The flames would discover that the material this man was composed of did not burn.Not against his will at least.So he would simply allow a ciggarette to flutter from his coat,the entire thing lighting when he puffed.

This affectively would have choked any normal lungs to death.Ninig was simply peaved,and apparently he would have to take defensive maneuvers in a few moments,seeing as how the explosion of a plane was raining down shrap metal.

All bodys were ceceptable to gravity driven spikes.

"Hmm...i guess this is a bad time..."

The figure would shove a hand deep into his coat,and reach around in his metaphysical pockets untill he could whip the large parasol from inside.It seemed to be made of ebony{*},infact,when it was popped open,the stone locking into place signaled that it infact was.

Shade and a sheild.Beautiful.

The Chakram suddenly spread out over the area buzzing through the air with seemingly reckless abandon. Two of them however fly straight up about ten feet and then come swooping down like a pair of hawks towards Robin's joints in his arms. The heat of the area continues to rise, some of the flames get even higher and the exploded shell of a car suddenly sinks into the ground revealing the fact that gravel the parking lot is beginning to melt. Robin is very lucky Vishnu didn't notice this.

GreenRobin Wrote:

> But before the jet could explode air force command send a group of special elite troops in black to bring Robin to safety, they went down on a rope just before the jet got obliterated. > At least 4 groups of troops made it but the rest got caught in the explosion, in each group contains at least four squad units and a squad leader with fire proof armor with the warning they got from Robin, they landed at least 200 meters away from Vishnu. > > Robin seeing the jet explode is now beginning to lose hope now but remembers that fear and failure is not a emotion that he regonized as he was thought that the hard way at the academy. > Robin runs toward the crash site but trips over a log, without knowing the razor sharp objects pass his head.

((GOD MOD! Because you can't get people onto a plane from a plane, and you sure as hell can't do it in a thousandth of a second.

))

Corant Ja`Kalie lowered his rifle, victorous.

((That weapon can fire effectively several dozen miles. Over the horizon. If you didn't god-mod, this match would have long been over.))

((Right. God-modder. Because any normal person can move at half the speed of light.))

((I fired. Then you sent troops who got you out and got out themselves. The round would hit before the troops got there. Got it? You can't just stop time for yourself, and you can't McFly, which is a form of god-modding. Any further discussion we will take to PMs.))

Robin coughing due to the immense smoke and dehydration, Robin asks if he can have help with a little water or take him to a place where none smoke is found.

Max was not here to fight. He simply wanted to watch the mightyest of Gaia's mighty battle at the great coliseum. It appeared that wasn't what was going on right now though. So instead he would save this innocent man's life. And that the might Max Freeblaze did, jumping into the air and exploding into a burst of flames and light once again. Max Freeblaze and Robin where gone, like the snap of a finger, like the drop of a hat, like pancakes being inhaled by a fat man!

((Sky Burn yeah you think your so tough why dont you come and challenge me all by your self and not with Vishnus))

(( i mean we all knowe that im one of the greatest gaya players on here.

{Robin.You're candle burns like a little girls compared to mine.Put you're twisted ego back in you're pants} {Of course it burns like a ant to a humans compared to most of these characters...}

The Zonei didn't mind so much.Though everybody seemed displeased.It seemed a rematch was taking place.Or so that cannon seemed to speak.Snicker.

"Then I take it once again you don't mind if I spectate?......Of course not."

The figure would stroll to the melted mass of metal,that was once a car, and place a hand on it.At his touch,it would turn to liquid once again,and twist and wrythe untill a rather nice bench had been etched and created from the ground.

A cross legged sit would be taken up.A new ciggarette flaring in mouth.Ninigs one good eye tracing over this robotic man.Observation was paramount.And this figures general profile and style would now be logged in the vast mind of a wanderer who had seen to much to pass this up.

Jonas followed without question, stopping a few yards behind Yusuke when they were fairly in the middle of nowhere. A flick of his hand to one side and the index finger would shred from the inside, a small blade not unlike a scalpel extending from the tip. With what seemed to be a sigh of relief he sliced down the length of his red shirt, the cloth falling away to reveal meat within. It was not done for any other reason than to give himself a bit more flexibility, the metal frame where his ribs should be slowly moving out of sync. Each 'rib' was as a metal mandible as they began clicking against one another and stretching after their confinement.

He had retained the lab coat, which was now caught in the breeze, the faint scent of lab mice, blood, and meat in the air. After taking a deep breath and allowing it to slowly exhale he'd focus on Yusuke, "So then I take it you're ready? What I need you to do is to focus yourself, close your eyes and try see beyond this world." He'd slowly be moving towards Yusuke, one hand reacing into the sleeve of the other arm to pull out one of the blades therein which built his frame.

The first exercise was a simple one; the process of ensuring that Yusuke could use this new sight effectively and react quickly. The blade was drawn forth and promptly thrown at Yusuke, aimed to punch through his chest. It would be obvious it was coming, lit up like a christmas tree with his alternate sight, but that was kinda the point.

Jonas nodded to himself as he reached inside his chest and took hold of two of his ribs, "Its only just the beginning. My body is a good training tool in this instance as it is forged from pain, but this will not always be the case." With a swift motion he ripped the two ribs free and threw them at Yusuke. Each would come apart in flight and be as six blades aiming to hit in the general area of his torso.

This, however, was not the true test. Yusuke would feel something else nearby, a slight glow rippling through the air to his alternate sight. If he took notice of it he'd have a chance to avoid a weaker kinetic bullet aimed at the back of his head. It was just strong enough to hurt, which was all Jonas could do at the moment without infusing his brain with more power. Jonas would explain the ripple if Yusuke dodged, else he'd keep doing it and make him learn it the hard way, even if he dodged subsequent bullets.

Instead of answering the spirit detective Jonas formed another one, this time aimed at the right side of his head. Each of the blades that Jonas had thrown at Yusuke whipped back to him to reassemble themselves within his chest. A single finger rose to wag aat Yusuke, "Eyes Closed." As before, when a third bullet begins to form off to Yusuke's left the disturbance would precede it by a fraction of a second prior to it being unleashed.

((I think I screwed up a word or two there. The six blades were supposed to go back to Jonas. >.< ^_^```))

In front of Yusuke another single bullet began to form, the distortion patterns quite invisible to the naked eye. But then again, Yusuke wasn't really using his eyes, which -again- was the whole point of the exercise. After formation the single bullet would be aimed to strike him in the forehead with similar force to the others that came before.

Another bullet began to form, the same distortion present as it takes shape with the intention of pegging Yusuke in the forehead again. Jonas seems to have closed his single eye, letting his normal sight fall to the wayside in preference for the pain he so desired. Not only could he see the seed within Yusuke, but the pain dancing along his forehead. A smirk came across his lips, "Figure it out and I'll stop."

((Sorry for the delay))

He noticed Yusuke advance on him quickly and his single eye shoots open in time to slip to one side. The dodge is not complete, however, as the punch slides across his frame and tears off what little flesh remains. The scream of metal on metal fills the air as he stumbles backwards, a flame errupting from the emerald set in his skull. The flesh covering where his left eye should be begins to bubble, the desire to rip Yusuke to pieces boiling within him again. He rushes forward to return the favor...

...and comes apart in six pieces with one word, "STOP!" His head rolls on while the torso and his four limbs disconnect from one another. His pieces twitch as the flame begins to die away, "Stop..."

The man's pieces began to pull themselves back together, visibly trembling from something far from the pain he felt. As he rose from the ground he kept his left hand over the patch of his face that was blank, save for the bubbled flesh that now existed there. Standing hunched over he turned his single eye to Yusuke, "Please...just don't do that again. I told you, its hard to keep control when there's so much pain. The headache was bad enough, don't need you punching me too." He let out a staggered sigh before continuing, "Aside from maintaining a control of yourself, which is a lesson in of itself, did you see it, the distortions in reality, or were you too busy wanting to kill me?"

His single eyes blinked, then glanced to his left hand as he pulled it away from his face. Bits of skin had stuck to his hand and were thusly missing from his face, but not enough to reveal the frame within. With a sigh he glanced back to Yusuke, "That would have been good to know before I went through the process of giving myself a splitting headache." Both hands went to rub his temples, a pause before the next lesson while he tried to rethink the next step.

With a sigh he slipped his left hand into one of the pockets on his labcoat to wipe it off inside the rather large pocket and keep it hidden from view. Taking a half step back he fully faced Yusuke, "There is no problem with your sight, this much is clear, nor with reaction times, but I knew that already. Now we will need to test your control, first in focus under stressful and painful experiences. From there we will move into increasing your focus because of pain and finally into forcing the pain to manifest as a part of your focus."

His right arm flicked out to one side, a blade extending from within his coat with the same length of that of his forearm. As he gripped it blood began to stain his fingers and drip to the ground, the blade becoming more defined as a blade with one edge smooth and the other jagged and rather nasty looking. He didn't raise it towards Yusuke yet, "Focus yourself and begin to charge an attack, do not defend against my blade, for I will need to stab you. It won't be fatal. You will need to learn to embrace pain instead of defend against it so that you may use it to your advantage. My downfall is that I am too reckless in how much I take in the pursuit of power."

He paused before he winced, "The alternative to the blade is a kinetic bullet to the scrotum."

Jonas gave a short laugh and shook his head, "Not really. You don't respond well to nonphysical pain, so stabbing you or turning your testicles to mush is the best way I can think of. Well, not the best way, but the easiest way in my current state." His form would sweep forward with the intent of sliding his blade into Yusuke's left side, his medical knowledge giving him some insight on a place to aim the blade as to not be fatal or incredibly harmful. The blade would actually not cause any pain entering his body, in fact, Yusuke likely wouldn't even notice it had entered him aside from a slight pressure. Pain would come later.

The pain eased off to a point of near nonexistance, "Charge your fun little spirit gun, don't care at what as long as it isn't me. Try to keep hold of it." Once he began charging the pain would slowly increase to higher and higher levels, basically until the point that Yusuke couldn't handle it anymore and either lost the spirit gun or blacked out, or both. For reference, each 'wave' of pain would look like emerald fire roiling over his skin to his alternate sight.

The pain would subside once the projectile was launched into the sky, back to a point where it was almost nonexistant. The man's smirk had returned, "Not bad, not bad at all. Now, instead of focusing on energy of your own, use your alternate sight to see the pain tearing into you. Try to alter the flame you see."

((If you still wish to skip ahead as discussed, please feel free to do so in your reply. ^_^))

From the blade the green flames would spread, working into Yusuke's body to sear away at his flesh as they had before. Instead of forcing a great deal of pain throughout his entire body, this time it would fester around the wound, much less excruciating than it had been previously. With this focus the blade would begin to drip with the black fluid known commonly as Agony, "Good, now refine the flame. Force it back and away, out of your body."

There is but a few moments in which Snow just hated and hated everything around him. Everything about him. Everything that stood or made meaning for this petty world of his. To an extent, everything is but a meaningless battle for the sake of satisfaction.

Motivation.

Hell, even a meaning in this petty life of his.

Now with the goal trashed by the man who had no name, who was the Unnamed, Snow hated the bastard with all his heart. To an extent he has to thank the man for ending the demonic thirst lurking inside his soul...

But with nearly every single form of power stripped from him, there is nothing to do but to drink and wallow at the unsettling silence as he left the grounds of the Battle yesterday. No applauds were given to the man named Snow. Just whispers and hisses, what has to be expected from the crowd that watched his battle with glee. The spoil goes to the victor of this match, and alas, Snow does not have that benefit at all...

None at all.

So there he was, walking away from the Battle Stadium and Arena with a heavy dank mood as he looked upon Blacksmiths that would help enhance his blades, as a method to balance his power loss somewhat. But without a reward, without even money to use to pay the Blacksmiths or workers...

"No money? Shoo, shoo! You're ruining my business here!"

"But, kind sir, I am just merely asking for --"

"Do not make me repeat myself, young fool. Business is business, and no world is cheap enough to let you have what you want!"

"..."

For the fifth time, Snow walked away from the nearest shop that would - or could've - helped repair his dented and chipped blades back to nominal status. He lived as a nomad, worked as a nomad... Just how the hell do they think they are? Just how is he supposed to live in a society where even a hint of kindness is shunned on? Snow cannot help but pull the hood down tighter over his head, lowering his face and walking down into the streets of the town, tired and hungry from all this ordeal. Rows of food were placed everywhere to sell, and cocky fighters and contenders littered the street, pushing themselves away from the sweat and the blood still reeking from the cloak Snow wore, unwashed and uncleaned from all those fights and injuries he had.

He swallowed down his saliva, gnawing at his lips unconsciously while he continued to walk, continued to stare and be stared by spectators, watching and walking away from him, hushing their children to the sides as if thinking him as some...

No. There's no point in thinking.

Finding himself near some dumpsters, his weary eyes spotted some food on the ground, perhaps broken and littered from a torn bag. Rotten and unfit to eat... What else could he do, but to sit down, picking up some drops of rice, a bit of crumbs and half-eaten food... Remembering memories of the past which he would rather never remember....

He threw away his pride, his pride as a fighter and as an opponent, and slowly ate the food, forcing himself to eat.

To eat... And remember the pain which came after.

He gagged uncontrollably, biting down the bile that threatened to come out of his mouth. Coughing and sputtering, it is a sad sight indeed to see a fighter, now nothing more than a beggar in the streets. Fates indeed, and lo, does the Gods laugh at their miseries.

Snow got up, at least able to control his hunger for now.

Turning about, it wasn't a surprise when he saw more of these fighters coming forth, either to jeer at the defeated opponents within the tournament, or to just try their hands at fighting against Gods. Gods that made fun out of mortals. The irony...

"Well. Look at what we have here." A voice said from behind. Spectators who watched the fight yesterday wouldn't be surprised to see Snow, now wandering aimlessly around the streets like a beggar ever since his defeat. And knowing just how bad a man can be humiliated, the people here know no limits on human morality and prejudice. And here we see the true foul side of mortals as one.

"In the streets already? My, I do have to wonder why they let you out, considering how you lost just like that in the battle yesterday. You and your "oh my, I'm so weak" attitude." The man mocked, laughing at Snow along with some other members.

Snow kept silent, turning about to face the man with a lifeless look on his face.

"Oh, what's the matter? Going to hit me? Going to hit innocent bystanders and make a fool more out of yourself? The infamous wielder of Ice, Snow, forced to the streets like a beggar, where he cannot help but 'Terrorize' young citizens and finally be hunted down like..."

The man sneered, making rude gestures as if teasing the fighter even more in shame.

"Dog? Pig? Do you squeal at least? Oh, I bet you do, don't you? Oh yes you --"

Snow nonetheless remained silent, eyeing how the other bystanders, how the other spectators around the streets were walking to their own business. Some pretending it isn't happening. Some standing around to enjoy the remarks, some crowding around to see what the commotion was all about.

If he did try to kill the person standing in front of him...then he would just be...

"What's the matter? Cat got your tongue? Are you scared out of your wits that you can't do anything at all? Hmm? Hmm?"

Snow clenched at his weapons a bit tightly, even with all the dents and the chipped off metal on his scabbards and his blades. The worn off hilt guard that was nothing else but the result of losing its power...and without a word, he turned around quietly, against all the intentions and anger that burned inside his weary heart.

"Look at the fighter go! Coward, beggar and a chicken on top of that!" Some chymed in to laugh at Snow as he turned -

And look at a man, clad in armor who reeked of nearly the same smell as he does.

Death.

His eyes made contact for a brief second with the man, before he continued down the streets amongst the jeers and the laughter behind his wake.

It is pretty obvious that his body was shaking. Even to his most strongest stance, his best attempt to keep his face, such words continued to haunt him and his thoughts for a time untold beyond this moment, beyond the future and to the memories that piled along with all the bitterness that could only well up to so much extent, before being locked there, in that icy wall of his.

In that lonely world of his.

So much in tune to that silent world inside him, that Snow failed to hear all the other whisperings among the streets, the noises, peering at him and eyeing at his ragged cloth up and down. It's true that Snow isn't well organized, but to even his mind... How can he be organized, if everything he once lived in is turned upside down?

To the sixth Blacksmith that inhabited this town, Snow gave a gloomy sigh before walking, an old man with a scruffy beard peering up with small spectacles at the 'customer' in.

"Oh..! Why, hello there, young man. How may I help you?"

"Yes....my.."

He slowly untied his belt, releasing his two worn out blades and scabbards, along with his bracers that he wore underneath the simple cloth of his. "Do you think there's any hope of...repairing, or salvaging the remains of the equipment?"

The old man rubbed the beard for a sec, in thought, while he then took the weapons and littered them onto the floor, examining the designs. "Well..." He began, eyeing the peculiar ornate designs on the hilts and the odd addition of an extra hilt where the blade's dullest points are. "I can see that you're going for a switch between a long blade and a medium blade distance by adding another hilt in front...but this sacrifices defense, and it also collects water and causes the metal to rust and corrode over time because of its grip on the structure itself."

The old man examined the weapon even more.

"Many places on the weapon appears to be chipped and broken....The connecting point between the Tsuba guard and the handle is loosened, making it easy for the weapon to wobble and the blade to be brittle. I can't say that we can salvage the entire thing...but it's mostly useless in another fight, that I would guarantee. As for your bracers..."

Sheathing the irrepairable blade back into a scabbard which has a worser condition than the blade itself, the bracers were wholly dented, as a result of blocking so many strong blows against fatal spots that would've killed Snow immediately.

The old man was silent. "I would suggest replacing your entire equipment. There's nothing I can do that can salvage it. As for the replacement...we do have some fine stocks of reinforced carbon fillings on the blades, making it extremely durable and able to withstand almost any type of maximum blows without breaking. Fancy some, I suppose?"

Followed with a toothy grin, it only meant to Snow that it's going to cost him. Again. "But sir.." He said softly. "I don't have any money to pay. Is there another way which I can perhaps...work the payment off?"

And like all the other Blacksmith he went to, the old man's attitude immediately changed into one of scorn. And like all the times he'd been forced out of the shop, this time was of no different as he was shoved out, along with his weapons and his equipment being thrown out, called "Garbage!" by the Blacksmith himself.

Well. That's life, is it not? Snow quietly thought to himself, reaching down to pick up his thrown gears and patching the broken equipment back onto his clothings, as he wondered where else he might find a Blacksmith...with a different attitude, at least.

Not again...

It wasn't coincidence this time as Snow smelled the same scent of Death from before, from a man who he saw just a few moments before. Standing up straight now, he holstered his weapons and again looked at the man berating what seems to be a small mystical creature. The exact terms?

Uncertain, since Snow travels mostly by himself.

But mistaking the fact that the armor clad man was here for another purpose, Snow linked the fact of seeing the man watching him being jeered at, followed by the man standing in front of him, a meter or two away....

"...Are you here to watch the show of me being humiliated even more by others for your own twisted pleasure, or are you here just to laugh at me, like everyone else that has been doing to the defeated?" Snow suddenly questioned darkly, the question aimed obviously at the man with the creature in his hand.

"Blacksmiths."

The man pulled out his scabbard, looking at the tattered remains of something so dear to him. In his life, his fights, his survival... Well.

"I once had a blacksmith help forge me the gears which I adorn now. A child back then...I learned the difficulties of making a weapon that is solely devoted to you, and just you. The weapon that would be an extension of your hands. The armor that will become living flesh like your own body. The motions and fluidity that comes along when one dances with their gear. The music.

The silence."

He went silent, looking down at the ground, remembering all the hard work he tried to do, in order to custom a weapon personally with his bare hands.

Now everyone has lost their value to the worthless object called money...

"Blacksmiths these days. They always ask a price to be paid in exchange for their service. With I, who have nothing else but my skills, and my bare hands....what price would they want from a man who has nothing to give?"

Hopeless laughter rang in the air as the man chuckled at the irony of it. "It's odd...talking to a stranger about my own helplessness. I never stooped so low for the sake of help...it's strange how things turned out to be for me....ha.."

He took in a small breath, calming himself somewhat before looking back at the man clad in armor.

"And what might you be interested in so much that you're listening to this petty life of mine?"

Either it was a huge stroke of luck, or Snow got himself into a lucky coincidence that might actually help balance his loss of powers for once. He crossed his arms together, feeling the bracers dig into his flesh uncomfortably while he watched the squabble between the fairy and the man.

The eyes glanced at the girl for a few seconds, before it lingered back onto the proclaimed stranger.

"...And just what kinds of payment would you be interested in?" He questioned, the voice hinting a bit of puzzlement on why this man is indirectly offering a bargain in the talk.

"I can't say that I was expecting that, but..."

With a bit of hesitation, Snow unholstered his weapons and hoisted them to his left grip. Two katanas, beatened pretty badly but still maintaining its original...er...structure, hung with small clitters and clatters as the nomad looked at the man in question.

"Why not?" The man smirked, showing at least some life in his bloody red pupils now. "But first things first. I never did manage to catch your name, and the fair maiden's name perched on your shoulder." He stated, giving a brief bow out of chivalry, perhaps.

And gratitude. Can't forget gratitude now, should it?

"The name's Snow. I was once known for my abilities with...winter, but...that's past now."

(( And off to bed I go for tonight. ))

"I am but a humble person. Perhaps seeing Sakura was just the remains of my...past abilities." Snow muttered, letting all but the weariness trail off of his speech. With a motive to go for, with a objective to complete, the now reformed fighter propped himself up from the ashen world of this life, following this strange Blacksmith beyond the wonders of social ties.

A wandering Blacksmith that suggests a possibility to revive his broken blades...

True, or is it just a decoy for something far more sinister than Snow could imagine?

"...."

And just as Snow had thought that the man was a Blacksmith. Now he's entrusting his weapons to a man that is just a mere apprentice? If it was a joke, then it's not a very lively one.

"...I'm not exactly sure if there is a Smith that would be of any use here. The more I look around, the less I like the people here to my guts." Snow confessed, giving a lame stare at the people walking to and fro from tither to hither, in their own little worlds and fantasies of the imaginative. Like Kingdom, Snow's more of a foreigner instead of a native here, a nomad, as said before.

"As for an abandoned forge..."

He rubbed his upper lips a bit, in thought. The battle stadium was initially constructed near a town for constant resupplies and equipments should the need arise. There were infirmaries and some common stocks of gears within the stadium most of the time, but the town prospered for quite some time ever since fighters began to flock into the stadium for the tournament.

Snow was one of them in the old times.

With the outskirts of the town littered with abandoned, less modernized buildings, the heart of the prosperity was in the center of town, where the people gather and wander about most of their time. Surely there should be a forge or some abandoned hardwares in the outskirts of town...

Which would mean the Southeastern part of town.

"I'm not too sure about whether or not there will be a forge still there...but if my suspicions are correct.."

He then pointed Southeast, ignoring the small teases the couples were making.

"We should have better luck there. Unless you want to try bashing the idea into the Blacksmiths nearby...which I wasn't able to." He commented, looking with suspicion in his eyes.