Deitric felt his knife gouge into the muscles of the thigh, but any sense of elation that might have come from the successful attack was doused when a gout of fire swirled to life like an angry storm over the two. The warrior had one major saving grace: a leather jacket wasn't terribly flammable.
In fact, most modern leather was fairly resistant to heat - you could throw a jacket into a fire, and while the inside might burn, the leather itself would "curl" before finally catching fire. Deitric's was zipped up, which saved him from a lot of it. Denim, on the other hand, was fairly flammable if given a few seconds. While the heat caused his eyes to tear up and gave him indirect burns, his hair and face weren't going to actually be caught aflame - doing so would have done the exact same to Damon; not a smart move. Because there was no feasible fuel to "catch", the fire was still running on air, which was comforting in the same way that you would rather be hit by a motorcycle than a semi.
While he being caught on fire in he literal sense, he did have a huge fulcrum of spinning fire lapping over his body, and that was more than enough to cause serious pain, not to mention pump his body so full of adrenaline it would have made a thrill-junkie jealous.
The tribesman was in a dire position. The fire hadn't caught to his clothing yet, but he was being burnt badly, and no one really had a whole lot of time when it came to dealing with turning into a human tiki torch. His opponent still had the choke, and the only things Deitric had in his favor was adrenaline and more excess energy than a lightning storm. He'd kept trying to expend it all match, but never got the chance to fully do so. He didn't have a plan, nor did he have time to make one. The brave did, however, have a whole lot of "oomph" he could put somewhere.
Leaving his knife in the psychic's thigh, Deitric's arms shot behind his head, each one catching onto Damon's head, palming the man's face - but only for a tenth of a second. While he might of been able to do so if he used the excess energy as a strength enhancement, he wasn't trying to crush the man's head like a melon; he just needed to touch his face for a moment to get a feel for where the warrior was. Or even his opponent's shoulders - it didn't matter. All he had to do was get his hands behind him, and even then for only a millisecond.
Without warning, the area around the two men erupted in a cacophony of sound and fury, a devastating force unlike anything Deitric had ever unleashed on any opponent - or ever likely would.
Abilities Wrote:
> ►Maelstrom Spiral - Deitric's only true "finishing" move, is similar to the Thunder Drum attack in that it only requires the use of one hand. The main difference is the expenditure of energy and exactly how it manifests. Assuming he has enough energy generated or enough to expend, Deitric can pool it all into a single fist before attacking. > > Once the attack has started, the energy begins to spiral in a cyclone fury from his fist and backwards, spilling over the warrior and the area around him. The attack hurls Deitric forward, enveloped in a swirling tempest of power. Anything in the way of the attack will usually be knocked back, and anything directly struck by the punch will feel the sudden reversal of the spiral, abruptly pushed back with an explosion of force and electricity.
Not just one of Deitric's most powerful abilities. Two. Twins, to be exact; albeit with no "strike", just the "reversal" and release. Like the fury of a mad, raging God, the floodgates for every single ounce of raw, metaphysical power the champion had captured were opened through the palm of his hands, blasting a spectacular, as-of-yet unseen level of raw force and electricity between the two men - specifically, downward in the space between their bodies and over Damon's whole form, expanding outward in dual blasts of metaphysical might that would consume the area for ten feet in every direction. Just twelve or so shy from the crowd, who would no doubt back up significantly at the awe-inspiring sight.
With the expulsion of so much force between their bodies and over Damon's, the two men were blasted apart as if someone had wedged a few sticks of dynamite between them (or, similarly, a considerably more explosive wall of force, like what Damon had made earlier), if everything went according to plan. With Damon being pushed down, and Deitric up, it would have been impossible for them to stay in the same place, as the explosion of force wouldn't allow the tribesman to stay down, nor would it allow the psionic warrior to go up with his opponent.
The psychic would be smashed downward with enough force to bisect the log they had been laying on, while Deitric was blasted upwards and forward, sailing up a good fifteen feet, and nearly thirty forward, back to the center of the ring. The flames that had been raging above and below them were both summarily blown out by the billowing cloud of sand and gale winds that had come to life around them.
The sly psion, however, was going to get a much, much, much worse deal than the champion. Raw emission of force aside, there was enough electricity in the area that it would have been impossible for his gauntlets and greaves to absorb it - not to mention, said armor was infront of Deitric, whilst the blast originated between them, and therefore behind his body. Meaning that, in all likelihood, Damon was going to get the full force of every bit of supercharged electricity his already weakened psychic shield couldn't absorb - and there was a lot of it.
One Maelstrom Spiral with the punch could end a fight from sheer electrocution - and had, in fact, against a weakened Ebris. Two was toeing the line of fatality awfully close. Shock aside, he'd be dealing with the stab and whatever wounds or broken bones might have come from being smashed through a log and into the sand. It wasn't only a show of force - it was enough to put someone out of commission, very nearly permanently so.
Deitric, one the other hand, wasn't really in good shape. "Better" and "worse" at this point were relative terms that only the crowd could understand; it was unlikely that either fighter was going to feel better than the other.
The tribesman smashed ground-side with a dull thud, rolling a few feet in the sand like a ragdoll before coming to a stop. For a few seconds, the warrior lay on his back, gasping mouthfuls of air, visibly smoking and crackling like a dying ember. He managed to weakly roll over, his hair falling around his head in a mess of black before he retched, blood splashing across the sand in a spill of crimson. He had barely ever reached such a level of energy pooling, let alone expulsion in TWO massive, simultaneous releases, and his body was lashing out against him as it was smashed against its limits.
Blood-mingled-sand caked the right side of his face, and where the two had been forcibly torn from each other one could see that Damon's gauntlet had managed to shred the skin of Deitric's neck, leaving it swollen, bruised, bloodied, and ghastly looking. Both of his hands smoked a fair bit more than the rest of his body, the acrid smell of burning flesh threatening to make him retch again. His gloves had been burnt away, and the skin of his hands was black and peeled across the back of them, blood welling up and dribbling from the raw and abused appendages.
He kept himself up on one hand and his knees in a half-kneel, staring weakly across the fighting area where his opponent should have been laying. His knife was probably off in the space between the ring and the crowd, waiting to be collected by a fan. Getting up was a slow process; putting his feet beneath him wasn't the best idea for the time being.
For now, the crowd could only roar at the display of such a magnitude of raw power, and wonder when the sand settled if the psychic would manage to draw himself up to continue the battle after such a devastating blast of electricity and tumultuous force. If anything, Deitric had earned the nickname of "The Thundering Tempest" in the past few moments.
