arrow The Heart of the Colosseum Numerous open archways at ground level lay all about the gigantic circular establishment, landing spectators and participants alike on the sheltered cobblestone track that runs all the way around the building. Stands for refreshments, fighting gear, shirts and posters, and other Gaian Tenkaichi Budoukai paraphernalia are stationed all about the track. If one does not wish to partake in the festivities, one can go straight to the heart of the colosseum by first following the first archway through which one chose to enter and then stepping on through to the next, which leads to the stadium: stands that span all sides, inclining sharply downward toward the sandy arena where they end at one hundred feet above the floor. Ramps and stairs provide access to higher and lower levels.
The Heart of the Colosseum
GTB VI. Imported from live Gaia guild archive.
Table of contents
- Midus Sonners
- countgraves
- Cryovix
- Midus Sonners
- Vitamin Jon
- The Thunder Tyrant
- Fierach
- Typhoon Omi
- Designated Hero
- Diable Jambe Sanji
- Marcel-Lockharte
- Diable Jambe Sanji
- Marcel-Lockharte
- Diable Jambe Sanji
- Anonymooo
- Midus Sonners
- Terren Misuyaki
- Marcel-Lockharte
- Midus Sonners
- The Thunder Tyrant
- Designated Hero
- Vitamin Jon
- Terren Misuyaki
- Life of a Jagged Edge
- Theory-Of-Xerosis
- Eternal Dirge
- Cryovix
- Typhoon Omi
- Michael Noire
- Midus Sonners
- The Thunder Tyrant
- Midus Sonners
- The Thunder Tyrant
- Nightsnow
- Typhoon Omi
- Midus Sonners
- Midus Sonners
- Midus Sonners
- notmuch_23
- Zou Kraze
- Justus D Spencer
- Zou Kraze
- Justus D Spencer
- Zou Kraze
- Justus D Spencer
- Zou Kraze
- Justus D Spencer
- Zou Kraze
- Justus D Spencer
- Zou Kraze
- Justus D Spencer
A sound very similiar to that of flesh ripping would become loudly apparent. Any and all around the arena being forced to take notice. Mainly because a certain patch of darkness in the pit, had grown. Surged, and was now walking forward.
The jet black oil like shadows peeling back from his features as he strolled to the center of where he would be more then likely fighting.
"Fairly standard..."
Mumbled to himself as his tattered cape moved. Stretching and expanding to hang and conceal his form. All in all this seemed it would be fairly nice. Good competition. Dq for death blows. Actual rulings on 'ring outs'.
Maybe this tournament would be different from that other fiasco he had heard about. Hah. It was odd to think. Only a few years ago, Matthew was human and only hearing about things like this.
Now he stood in the arena. Gaging the grip his boots could get on the sandy surface of the ground.
With that, he'd surge forward. Taking one running step to burst into his vampire speed. Only to soar straight forward. Moving at roughly 35 miles mph.
Slam.
The sound echoed as Matthew flipped and landed crouched on the wall. Head facing directly where his back just was.
"Nope..."
"Friction makes up for lost traction and sticking.."
"Of course I have to break the barrier of comfort.."
More mumbling as the dhampir stood. Still quite vertical. He'd begin walking up the arena wall. Making his way to the stands casually dispite the little display he just put on.
It was allright though. No fighters appeared to be in the area. So no secrets lost. You know. If supernatural speed were considered a secret.
A black shape appeared on the arena floor. The black cloaked figure glanced over the arena without so much as a blink. His facial expression was completely neutral with the exception of his icy blue optics.
A hand protruded from the cloak and held itself directly out in front of the cloaked form palm down. Spyke remained like that for several minutes before the hand and arm retracted back into the darkness provided by the cloak.
At this time Spyke formally acknowledged the presence of others. Formally meaning he glanced up at spectators and then glanced at the entity that was walking along the arena wall. He wondered what tricks that one had. He gauged the entities strength based on severely limited information. Choosing to err on the side of overly powerful.
Spyke turned and jumped up into the stands so he could survey the entirety of the arena from above. He was looking forward to his turn perhaps this tournament would show him something intriguing and new to learn later.
[3:00 PM]
A crowd began to flow into the stands as the opening ceremony was not that far away. People of all ages, mostly adults, were seating down, laughing and talking about the tournament that was to begin soon. The media were already settled at the floor, so that they may televise the event, cameras panning the filled stands, then focusing onto the platform settled in the middle, a large circular stone risen platform in the middle, leaving a remaining space of fifty feet between the platform and the wall before the stands begin. The platform is risen only four feet off the ground, though this was no problem for anyone to capture the image of anyone who would walk upon it.
All fighters were prompted to be here to take part in this event in their honor, to understand and find out who their opponents are going to be in the first round. With thirty-two hard pumped fighters ready to show off their skills, one would be wise to know who their competition is before they step up into the ring for their first matches.
((It is not mandatory to show up for this ceremony, but it will be great if people do. All fighters will have to stand off the platform at the side, as the ring is going to be used for the announcer. Visitors will have to keep in the stands.))
THUMP
THUMP
THUMP
The noise would be cycled within the hollow innards of the Colosseum's many halls leading towards the Arena. Standing at ten feet, he would easily clear the final arch and enter the arena perimeter with meager amusement painted across the dragonic scales across his face. Now a cinder block in hand, a testament to his strange tastes in food as he brought it to his mouth and pressed it in with ease, the plethora of variety within his jaws would be put to work to break down the hardened material.
His walking yet to hinder as he maneuvered his mass on top of the arena, his right hand, which was massive in size compared to his left, would be mid-air and waving. Yet his mouth was currently pulsating with crunches, pops, and clacks.
Murdoch wore nothing more then a simple piece of purple garment, in respect to the humanity of the crowd, even if he lacked reproductive organs. His rippling purplish blue symbiotic display of dragon scales littering his humanoid frame. Bulky and powerful, the waving massive hand would curl into a fist and be brought down at a ninety degree angle, pressing swiftly against his seemingly muscular chest in a symbol of respect for the roaring crowd.
Swallow. There went the cinder block, in to the beast's mighty acidic pit.
Huh..
Deitric didn't bother blinking as cameras flashed from the crowd all around him. He tried his best to ignore the din of the crowd as he entered the center of the coliseum, the second fighter to do so, following the massive dragon-man. In comparison, he was a lot smaller - still tall for a human, but he didn't approach anything near ten feet. He was still dressed mostly in the riding leathers he'd had on before - only now he'd replaced the leggings with a pair of scuffed up jeans with metal shin-guards strapped on around his legs.
The warrior only crossed his arms as he took his place, looking up to where he assumed the tournament founder, or someone else would come and speak. He didn't look very interested in the entire ceremony. He was curious about his competition, as much as anyone else, but all the pomp and circumstance was largely lost on him.
From above in the crowd, the Psi Nine camera zoomed in on Deitric, the red-skinned warrior standing tall beneath the afternoon sun. Behind the camera-man, Farragut was still running through his commentary, the camera occasionally shifting from Deitric, to Murdoch, then to the crowd, then all around again to take in the entire coliseum.
The rugged veteran hunter that followed Deitric, third in place, wasn't aware that this while thing wasn't mandatory, or else he would've still been comfortably sleeping in the bed of his room dining on fried bacon, eggs, and enough baked beans and biscuits to feed an army platoon.
Old western-style meal. The thought of the savory food and service they had crossed his mind and he cracked a bigger grin then the one that was already plastered.
It seemed like there were only two real sizeable threats so far. The native american and the giant dragonic being directly infront of him. At only 5'10-11 but built like a bull, Akechi was still confident that he could take them down. Now to size up the rest.
He pretty much ignore everything else, the cheering of the crowd, the sun (except for slipping on a pair of shades), and the commentary, only glancing around at his competitors and guaging their level of danger to him.
"Chhh~" In annoyance did the mercenary mutter, vigor revived by a colt gust of air flowing about the western hall and archway; a thin veil of sweat coating his pores. Omi Barsait was no stranger to a crowd maintaining their many stares upon his person, yet all of the camera flashes, the probing eyes.. "So, this ceremony lets "the people" see who they'll be making early tier bets on, in other words. That's lovely.."
Chain mesh tight enough it wasn't audible with his steps, the dark-haired young man merely forced his steps inward, towards the core of the arena. The ceremony served another, more obvious function: one Barsait was keen on getting a glance at. Opposition; he almost considered leaving it to his imagination and finding out the day of the first round, but decided against such a fool-hardy idea.. entertaining as it may have been.
A good look at your future enemy is always welcome.
All ten fingertips protruding through the empty ends of their respective gauntlets slid into the swordsman's pants pockets; steps rather casually gliding along the surface below, 'til they came to an abrupt stop a mere few feet away from the other three early arrivals. It didn't take much to point them out as fellow contestants - one preparing to do battle always does tend to stand out from the crowd. Pupils metaphorically sharp to the tip with how studious they had became, this second-time Gaian Tenkaichi Budoukai participant made passing glances across all three figures within his vicinity; a subtle gouging of their strengths, perhaps.
The sheath firmly tied upon his back slid back into place once stationary. At this point, borderline motionless save his eyes which were glancing across the platform for a sign of life - Omi started to take in some of the murmurs at his entrance; likely a result of his past service in this tourney line. "A lot of new faces.. new management, at that. Provided I'm not killed or get my arms nearly torn apart like last time, this should prove to be a lot of fun." Barsait's lips formed into a wry grin, upper row of white teeth barely visible; a fang glistening where the canines are oft' located.
Despite it all, even with his cool demeanor - a growl at the pit of his stomach let him form a fitting summary of thoughts: ".. Damn, this needs to end so I can smash that hotel's food."
Reyin had practically been herded into the arena by a set of tournament officials who had caught him wandering around the hotel lobby, so his entrance was hardly one designed to woo the crowd. He was shoved somewhere in the middle of the order, and he looked just a little bit lost as he made his way across the arena floor. The bright lights, the large crowd, it was a little more than intimidating for a young man who's most spectated activity was running around town acting like a total goofball. Now his every move was going to be watched and analyzed. Not to mention the ever-present threat of having his face smashed in.
About halfway across the arena, Reyin managed to snag his confidence back and picked up a little hop in his step. He swung his arms in wide arcs to clap his hands together overhead as he saught to gain the crowd's favor, turning to each section once while shouting the words "COME ON!" as loud as he possibly could. Thanks to the roar of the crowd, however, his words fell short of the audience or even the other competitors.
Eventually he hopped up to the platform and took his place next to the other competitors. Once stilled, Reyin started looking fairly uncomfortable given his incredibly close proximity to the giant purlple guy who had just eaten a cinder block.
Reyin was hardly an intimdating figure to even a normal Gaian. He looked fit, but no more so than a typical Gaian athlete, and the sword slung over his back didn't look to be all that special either. He wore no armor, just a simple t-shirt and pair of athletic shorts, coincidentally the same gear he had been working out in before he had been rounded up to appear at the arena.
In short, the blonde-haired, green eyed swordsman smelled like a dirty gym sock.
Sanji was the next of competitors to enter, his hands kept within the pockets of his fine suit. It was funny how he looked more like a businessman than a fighter, but looks were always deceiving. His exposed right eye was keeping its look forward as he stepped into the light of the entire arena, a cigarette smoking from between his lips. He was currently casual with himself, exerting little energy for anything else. Stopping where the other fighters were positioning themselves, he brings his hand up to the nicotine and removes it from his mouth briefly, blowing a breath of smoke from his lungs out into the air.
Looking at the other competition, his inner thoughts remained secret to their minds as he examines each one, noticing the differences they all held in this group, the big one catching his eyes almost immediately. That one was sure going to be a challenge if they ever meet in the ring. For now, he was just ready to get this thing started, not yet having explained why he was in this tournament.
"Quite a group," he says to himself, replacing his cigarette. "This is going to be a fun little tournament, I can already see that."
Rei came running into the area, heart pounding and his face red. He was late for the ceremony and he really wanted to know who his first opponent would be. He saw of few of what looked to be other fighters standing off to the side of the stage, so he ran to join them. He came to a halt beside a man with blonde hair covering one eye, and a cigarette in his mouth. He couldn't tell if this man was seriously joining the tournament, but he wouldn't underestimate him.
"How far in is it?" He whispered to the man.
He looks to the person who whispers to him, placing his hands back into his pockets. Everyone seemed so self-placed that not much communication has happened between any fighter. This probably the first time any fighter has seen the rest of his possible opponents, and so this time was more of a way to get to know who he was up against than anything. Yet, here was this guy who just so happened to talk to him. Kind of threw off his predictions, but it was welcoming.
"It hasn't started yet, so you're early."
Rei let out a sigh of relief. He relaxed himself, letting his shoulders drop and he smiled. He turned to face the man next to him.
"Thank goodness. I thought I was late." He extended his right hand.
"My name is Rei Claybourne. Nice to meet you."
Sanji looks down at his hand, not trusting him at first. But it only took a couple of seconds before he replies, meeting his handshake with his own.
"Call me Sanji."
Hands in his pockets, Mooo made his way through the archways, giving polite nods to various members of the press, actually answering questions here and there so they could have something to write for his inch-and-a-half section of the projections page. He wasn't being hyped to win, or even get very far, but last year's match with Omi Barsait had given the two of them a minor following.
Coming into the introduction hallway, Mooo saw Omi--who was at the moment too busy in thought--and smiled broadly, more sauntering than walking as he reached forward, clapping a hand onto Omi's shoulder. Hopefully his former opponent wouldn't see this as an aggressive action and not punch Mooo in the throat simply for wanting to say hello.
The crowd cheered as one by one, each participant of the Gaian Tenkaichi Budokai strolled in. Some replied to the praises from the people, and some simply took it as a passing wind as their only focus was on what lied ahead of them. Though it seemed not all thirty-two showed up for the ceremony, he had a feeling that they would at least show their faces at the fights. To miss them would be to contradict their entry into this tournament, to defeat their purpose of coming here to prove themselves in mortal combat.
As the crowd cheered, someone steps up the side steps onto the platform, carrying a wireless microphone in his right hand. He wore a pale blue long coat over a white dress shirt. His pants were the same color as the coat, but his shoes a shiny black. Orange eyes, bright, showed against his tanned skin, and white hair flowed down the back of his head, with a spiky touch to the top. The pretentious looking man comes to a stop in the middle of the arena, and the crowd ceases their cheering. When everything went silent, the mic comes up to his mouth, his voice following in its deep, smooth mature tone.
"Hello, everyone. Welcome to the second annual Gaian Tenkaichi Budokai. My name is Midus Sonners, president of GTB, and I am proud to bring to you the event of the year."
The crowd roars in applause as he pauses. When it finally dies down, he returns to his speech.
"One year ago, a man by the name of Clash Kiddick created this tournament for the sake of having all known fighters at the current time to come together and compete for the title of 'Gaia's Best.' With an entry total of over two hundred competitors, the GTB was by the far the largest tournament on the planet. People came and the fights commenced in an epic struggle to see who comes out on the top. The numbers continued to decrease round after round until it finally came to the remaining sixteen. It was then that something unexpected happened. Clash came forward and told the real reason for this tournament: it was simply for the sake of showing up some of the boasting fighters he had encountered, and thus left the tournament to the council."
He pauses again, only this time it was in silence, just the reaction he wanted as he took a moment to catch his breath and let the truth settle into everyone's ears.
**"At this time, it had become a stressing toil, for the council did not know how they were going to bring this tournament to the climax that it was waiting for. The leadership, Clash, was gone, and so they were left in the dark. That is....until I arrived. I had been watching the tournament since it had first begun, wondering why an old friend like Clash would create such an organized event which had quickly gained the attention of all these fighters, friends, foes, and those inbetween. I watched, and when I saw that he had left, and came up to take the responsibility, receiving the praise from Kiddick himself. I asked him why he was leaving like this, and he said to me: 'Because I am done with it. However, I trust that you will make this tournament into something big.'
"And so he left. Now, I stand before you all with the promise of the next tournament. Though the first ended with no actual winner, this time around, I have made it so there will be a conclusion this time. There will be a definite winner, and there will be definite losers. There will be more organization, there will be more entertainment, and most of all, there will be the greatest tournament you have seen yet!"**
And once more, a loud boom of the crowd came forth, their fists shooting into the air, the atmosphere changing from despair to excitement in a blink of a second. Midus looks toward the ground of fighters, waving his hand before them.
"And you all are our special guests. Today, you will showcase your skills in front of the entire world, and combat to see who will become our first ever Gaian Tenkaichi Budokai champion. The winner will walk away with a trophy, money, and most of all: glory. If you truly wish for these three, and much more, then give your all and express your passion for combat inside the ring! Do this not for just those qualities, but for yourself. Now then. If you will all give your attention to the screen behind me..."
He turns, a giant screen resting on the high wall of the stadium, the screen currently showing the names of each of the fighters.
"Now, the fights are going to be randomized, and one by one, each pairing will be shown to you all."
And after that, the scrambling of words begun, a sound effect of accompanying this as everyone awaits to see the match pair ups. The suspense started to build as each person had their eyes on the screen, waiting to see what to expect.
Terren, having just arrived in the hotel lobby, had projected herself to be at the opening ceremonies. Though not physically here, it showed her, none the less, as a solid figure. Her green, waist-length hair flowed gently in the wind. She checked the pocket in her jacket for her bag and realized, this form didn't have to worry about it. She was, thinking to herself, one of the only few women in this tournement, if not the only on. Terren just sighed and sat back, listening to Midus' speech. "Blow over. Jeez, a little ego-centric aren't we Mr. Sonners?" She asked a little too loudly. She had meant to keep this comment to herself, but it was left hanging out there. Whether or not he answered, she didn't care. She pulled a hair tie from one of the coat pockets and pulled her hair back into a braid.
Rei smiled. He listened to the words of mister Sonners and clenched his fists tight. He seemed to be very happy about this tournament. Rei was as well. He had only heard of the last GTB recently, seeing as how he was in the dark this time last year. But now he had come forward, and while he didn't expect to win, he expected his name to be known, and then that would be enough for him. He looked to his new friend Sanji. Maybe he would be his first opponent. Hopefully not. He wanted to know what the man was capable of.
As the screen came on, he turned towards it, watching as the names flashed by, waiting until it came to a stop to reveal the match-ups. He was eager.
The randomizer stopped, and each pairing came into visual in a transition of just popping up one after the other.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
"And there you have it folks," Midus says, turning back to face the fighters.
"The fights will begin in two hours and thirty minutes. Which then, each fighter will report to their designated arena. So we will take an intermission and then proceed with the first round. The games are about to begin!"
And with a last roar of excitement from the crowd, Midus steps across the platform and off back to the ground, over where he stood by a group of men who were also officials of this tournament, talking amongst them.
He'd listened to the speech patiently, his arms crossed over his chest. He'd seen Jack and Kuroha here - he wondered how many other opponents he'd fought were here. Guess it was time to find out. Deitric grinned - he wanted to fight both of them again. Not because he had won, but to see how much they'd improved, and how much better he had gotten.
Kai.. Ethrale? Never even heard of him. I suppose I'll be in for a surprise, tomorrow.
Deitric skimmed over the other matches, seeing Jack's right below his own - it seems as though they'd come pretty close to a rematch. Hopefully, they'd be fighting each other next round, if they both managed to win.
Reyin just sort of quirked an eyebrow and turned his attention towards the screen. Arms came up to cross in front of his chest, and he leaned back slightly.
"Well this is gonna be interesting. Feels like a freakin' lottery. Hope I get the paraplegic or the Alzheimer's patient."
And then the results popped up. All Reyin could do was narrow his eyes and furrow his brow as he attempted to pick out first his name, then the name of his opponent.
"Ku-what? I don't even think I can read that, let alone pronounce it."
Murdoch grinned widely, a dish of teeth of all shapes sizes and lethality would be visible as his left palm smacked his bare scaled stomach. Which one of these little guys was Muso Ragori?
The dragonic-humanoid would peer at each individual, scanning them up and down swiftly behind protective glasses which hid his crimson hued irises. The fucker is probably going to shit his pants. Murdoch thought as he moved amongst the fighters.
**THUMP
THUMP**
His massive five-hundred-eighty pound bulk would surely stir whomever stood close by.
Terren sighed. She watched the screen and thanked what ever god's there was that no one had heard her. When it stopped, she skimmed all the matches. At first her eyes passed over her own match, just to see all the other fighter's name. Her eyes flicked back to her match. "Ryu Blazer....never heard of him." She said, her voice low and cold. Her body and head would just vanish, being she was just an image she didn't leave a trace.
Yeah, Korag was just a tad bit late, but he caught the end of Mr. Sonners' speech, and walked to stand next to the other fighters right before the words appeared on the screen. He felt like roaring in confusion and fury, but instead took a moment to look closely at the screen. He knew well enough how his own name looked, so he found it easy enough. Next to his name was another name, one that he couldn't get all at once, but after breaking it down, the ogre was able to mumble his opponents name under his breath.
"Matthew...
The ogre memorized the symbol he knew to be a number; surely he'd need it to find where he would fight this man named 'Matthew' at.
Jack stood to the side where all the fighters were designated to be. He had arrived late though, a little business was to be attented to. Watching the screen he saw a few names that he knew of, but one was there that he had a probelm with. Deitric Jocasta. Jack and that man had a little fight a bit before the tournament, and it was not good on Jacks side. And they were very close to a rematch.
Looking at his match up Jack read the name, but nobody really came to mind. Wonder who the guy was. Either way Jack wasn't gonna lose to this guy.
"Katsu Redmoon...Wonder where he is."
He looked around at the other fighters, looking for somebody who was whispering about Jack.
Arena 1
" Ah fuck....I hate seeing my name up there..." Damion grumbled, scratching the back of his head as he hopped up from the stands where he had been lounging, looking rather sleepy at that. You would too if you fell asleep and had to be woken up by all the noise. " Wonder who this....Baptiste? John? the fuck? Oh well...run with Spooky for now." He said to no one in particular, making his way down from the stands, " Outlaw, to me..." his way of summoning the knife was rather untheatrical, but it got the job done, the modified trench knife popping into existance in his right hand.
" Let's get this party started I suppose." The islander said, hopping down onto the grass then jogging over to Arena 1 to get ready.
27Cryovix
Spyke looked down upon the fighters from the stands where he'd spent the afternoon watching people file in and take their seats. He'd seen the entirety of the speech given by the tournament host and looked over at the screen as it spat out the battle list. He scanned the list and for the first time since arriving his mouth opened and projected vibrations from within that formed into words in the air. His voice was just shy of what one would call deep and it was also somewhat melodical.
"Sanji...perhaps my luck is in.."
With a final glance down at the fighters below him Spyke seemed to melt into a shadow which raced back towards the room he'd been assigned it was time to prepare for the games.
Feeling the strong clasp of an unexpected hand greet his shoulder, Barsait shifted away enough to turn about-face; before laughing almost jovially prior to his response. "Well, you! Glad to see you're around this time too man; a few familiar faces amidst this crowd goes a long way for easing my spirits." Indeed, Mooo and Omi knew each other well enough; Round V of Gaian Tenkaichi Budoukai I had them bashing each other apart in a short-range show of melee prowess with gusto, until the judges deemed it over and the man standing before Barsait, the winner.
One could guess the mercenary'd regard Mooo with hostility- but, nothing of the sort was true. Even when he was bitter over the loss, it was the judges and not his opponent that the swordsman directed his anger towards; yet now, the wayward young man could only view it as having been a rather entertaining and educational match-up that made participating all the more worthwhile in the first place. Still - that was the past, and this was assuredly the ever more intense present. Spearheading the 'now,' was a man stepping across the platform ahead of them, wireless microphone and blue long coat introduce himself as none other than the individual that sent Omi his ticket - Midus Sonners.
"Hey, let's hope we get some failures for our first match-ups, ah? A warm-up round would be damned appreciated." The mercenary spoke in a lower tone; wry grin returning as his eyes and ears trained themselves on the man speaking. The history of the tournament, promises of the future - both blended together, painting a definition for the newest incarnation of the tournament. Then finally, the lovely screen upon the high wall of the stadium humming to life.. here it was. The match-ups.
Reading from "Arena 1" on down versus immediately skimming for his own name, Barsait was already throwing his lot in at the memorization game; match one's appearance with their names ahead of time for future use. Yet it didn't take long to reach Arena 6, first spotting the name "Mooo," - Omi skimmed over to the adjacent side, curious who the man standing next to him'd be facing..
.. And his eyes narrowed. Both shoulders drooped, and all that escaped his lips was a rhetorical, stunned: ".. What? I'll be damned, you've got.." Lulling out of the initial shock, the mercenary turned back to his company, laughing hysterically. "THAT IS TOO GREAT - right off the bat, we get to pick up where that last match left off, that's damned priceless! It really does fail, that one of us'll have to get knocked out the first step, but - bright side, whichever one of us wins'll have a world less to worry about, right?" Clapping Mooo in a similiar fashion on the left shoulder, the mercenary was already stepping off towards the tunnels of the arena, chiming in with each word - his tone of voice becoming more solemn though still friendly: "We should never gamble, ya know it? Our luck at draws is terrible. Catch you in the arena, Mooo! Good luck."
Only a few feet away, already - Omi's mind was on overload regarding the rapidly approaching first match.
Anthon wanders the area for a moment... "so where is Arena 2?"
Fireworks litter the sky in an epilogue of light and sparks, explosions of many colors hanging in the sky as their lit bursts rain from the skies one after another over the main Tenkaichi Budokai stadium, the crowd enthralled by the light show and similarly the announcement about to come on who won. Everybody's voices cheered loudly, though the volume of the booming voices of the rockets clearly beat out their combined shouts. In the center lied a copy of the stone platform the fighters fought in the final round, where four men in suits were standing with their hands in front of their bodies, awaiting for the host to come out and state the cree of the tournament. Stationed in front of them was a set up table, having a gold, a silver, and bronze GTB trophy on their sheeted tables. Each had three pillars that were aligned in a triangle formation with two figurines resting on the top. One was a man with a sword seeming to be lunging at the other. And the other figuring was using only his bare fists, doing the same to the swordsman, showing the theme that this tournament followed, that fighters of all different varieties were what represented what this tournament was about.
Finally, the people's anticipation was delayed no longer, as coming from the northern entrance was Midus himself. His blond hair was long and wavy against the back of his head, showing fullness and depth in the texture of the way it settled onto his head like a stream of water rushing down a bumpy stream, its strands keeping with the natural form of the water, the glares along the blond streaks appearing like the shining blemishes that mark the surface of a body of water during the day of the sun's glare. He was in clothes that were mostly white, though his top distinguished itself in that the cuffs were dark golden, with the shoulder pads holding the same color, though having large attachments similar to what majors wore in the military, wearing badges that told of their different accomplishments throughout their occupation thus far. On Midus's shoulder pads, he had five stars on each, with the middle star being bigger than the surrounding four. This hinted at what experience he had himself prior to taking the responsibility of the Gaian Tenkaichi Budokai.
In his right hand he held a wireless mic, his feet stepping up the added steps that took him into the ring, walking casually toward the center where the officials awaited. Clapping arose about them as the people watched Midus come in, giving an ovation for him finally bringing about a successful tournament. As long as he knew the people were happy, Sonners was not disappointed one bit. With a raise of his hand, he signaled for everyone to die down. And like a magician's hand at the magic show, everyone's voices were settled down, silence coming, giving room for the echoing, broadcasted voice of Midus's that was to follow. Bringing the mic to his mouth, he then speaks.
"For a month, we have been sitting here, watching as fighters pit against one another in mortal combat for the chance of proving who is the best amongst them. They have been through dirt; they have been through fire; they have been through water; they have been through blood. These men showed what it means to be a real fighter, to have the dedication and courage to step up to any challenge they are faced with and taking it on with no fear. And for that, each participant of this tournament are given my highest respects."
He paused for a moment, moving the mic away from his mouth to take a breather. But the crowd would make use of this pause to give an applause. Returning the mic back to his mouth, he continues: "As much as it would satisfy my heart to make all of them winners, I am afraid that the tournament would lose its meaning if I gave everyone an equal win. That is why today, I am about to announce the winners of the Gaian Tenkaichi Budokai."
Midus started to walk around, making sure he faced occasionally each side of the stadium so that all of the crowd could be acknowledged of their presence.
"Three of these four men are going to walk home with a title, money, and best of all: glory. So now, without further ado, it is time to announce the winners!"
Removing an folded piece of paper from his pocket, he opens it up and has his left hand hold it as his eyes look onto its contents.
"For the battle between Snow and Reyin, for the title of third place, the winner goes to..."
"Snow!"
A moment of applause came from the crowd for the announcement of the winner, the table awaiting for Snow to come and pick up his trophy, and give the crowd his thanks if he wanted to.
"And now, the moment you've all been waiting for. We will finally announce who is the first and new champion of the Gaian Tenkaichi Budokai!"
He pauses before saying loudly: "Deitric Jocasta!"
The crowd went into another loud uproar, Midus smiling and nodding his head as his ears were filled with the joy and excitement of the crowd.
"Though Omi Barsait lost," Midus continues."He still is awarded with second place for making this far to begin with. Reyin Nova, although he did not make either of these places, we will not send him off without a consolation prize, for he fought just as well to keep himself in this tournament."
Awaiting up there was a fourth place trophy, though this one was smaller than the others. All of them could come and be claimed now by the winning fighters upon this stage, as Midus stood, finally happy to have brought upon the conclusion of the tournament.
"If you will Mr. Jocasta, can you come up here and say a few words?"Midus held the mic out, ready for Deitric to take if he wished.
-=Prior to the Closing Ceremony, early morning.=-
"Do you really think you might've lost?"
The question hung in the air, asked by the man sitting across from Deitric in the commons room of his hotel suite. The room had been fairly lavish, but the tribesman had move things around. There was only a couch, the TV set, a coffee table, and two chairs with their own smaller table. All the other things that had been in the considerably large room had been moved.
Them an sitting across from him was Jonnie Ferrusgut, the reporter who he'd signed an agreement with on matters of the media. But there weren't any cameras here - the reporter was wearing casual clothes and had a drink in his hand. His immaculate brown hair was a messy tangle of curls atop his head. Deitric was dressed in loose clothing - a pair of sweat pants and a white T-shirt. He'd woke up an hour or two ago, but didn't see a reason to change into anything suitable.
"I think it could have gone either way.. The fight was pretty close," the warrior offered, taking a small drink from his own glass of water. A dark bruise still clung angrily to his brow, refusing to heal completely. Combined with his dour visage, it was obvious he didn't share the same confidence as his compatriot.
"It wouldn't of been the finals if it hadn't been a close fight, Deitric. But you broke the man's leg - hell, my boys caught the sound of it on camera, as close as we were. You're still whole, right? You broke something, he didn't. It was in your favor," Jonnie counted, pointing a finger at the red-skinned fighter. The TV was flickering behind them with images of the fight and Ferrusgut's face - it was his commentary, but it was on mute. He hated the sound of his own voice.
"Maybe.. We'll see," the finalist conceded, finishing off his own drink while Jonnie did the same. The reporter got up and gave him a friendly slap on the shoulder with one hand while he set down the empty glass with the other.
"No, you'll see. Mark my words, Jocasta. You won this fight. After all, I did bet on you. I've never bet wrong before," the reporter offered with a broad smile. Deitric grinned slightly and offered him a wave to see Jonnie off before the man left the commons room to find his news crew, leaving Deitric alone in his contemplation.
Running his fingers along the small remote for the sound system of the room, he flicked it on. Faint sounds whispered from the hidden speakers - the rustle of grass and leaves in the wind, the chirp of birds. Deitric had taken some time in his travels to record the simple sounds of nature. He felt more at home with the sounds of the wind and the birds than he did with the sounds of the city and the noisy, smoke-belching vehicles.
He closed his eyes quietly and reclined in his seat, letting himself finally rest.
-=At the Closing Ceremony=-
The fighter took a seat in the special section that had been cordoned off for those who had participated in the fights. He wore simple clothing; black jeans that had been ripped and tore in some places, a black vest-jacket with white sleeves, and his typical bandana around his forehead. Shades kept the camera flashes from blinding him, and twin bracelets of beads and semi-precious stones jangled loosely from his wrists, matching the jade pendant he always wore.
Deitric leaned forward as he listened to Midus's speech. He'd seen very little of the man, but like all fighters, had recieved letters of encouragement from him through-out the tournament. He offered applause after the man's speech and waited for the announcements on who won to begin.
Quote: Wrote:> "SNOW!"
The fighter clapped for the participant who had won third place. He had been rooting for the other fighter, Reyin - but he couldn't deny that Snow was a good fighter. Good enough to claw his way through the tournament to grasp one of the prizes, to say the least. He held the man in high regards.
But that meant that it was time to announce who had won the bout between he and Omi. The fighter leaned forward to listen, despite the fact he could hear well and clear. His shades had disappeared into one of his pockets to give him a clear view of the crowd and the stone stage.
Quote: Wrote:> "DEITRIC JOCASTA!"
Deitric's composure melted for a moment as he stood up, raising his hands to the crowd with a shout of triumph. Assuming Omi was sitting nearby, he'd shake his opponent's hand, his features overtaken with excitement for a moment. He wouldn't have time for words though - especially considering the fact that they probably couldn't hear each other over the crowd.
Deitric made his way along the set path towards the stone platform that had only recently hosted his bone-shattering bout with the other finalist, Omi Barsait. He'd managed to regain most of his calm, quiet demeanor, though broad smile still split his features. Cameras flashed all around, hands outreached and grasping for him as he passed, stepping up onto the stone platform lightly.
The tribesman took the mic for a moment, turning to face the crowd. In another situation, he might've been showing a bit of discomfort, but he seemed to excited - even if he hid it - to be anything else.
"Unfortunately, I'm not much for speeches - I'm a fighter, not a talker.. But I will say that everyone in this tournament fought hard. All of my opponents were great fighters and I don't think any of them could of been considered anything other than consummate warriors. I hold each man I fought in high respect - most especially Omi Barsait. I hope to meet him again - be it in the ring, or shoulder to shoulder--"
The tribesman paused for a moment as he trailed off.
"I hope everyone out there got what they wanted out of these fights - we don't bleed and sweat for nothing," he finished calmly, passing off the mic to whoever should take it - Midus, or one of the staff - before turning back to the tournament host.
He didn't really know how the ceremony worked, but he could only assume that the man who ran the tournament would have a few words for him, along with his prizes. He could see the trophy, at least - but didn't feel it was his place to take it, if it was meant to be presented to him by Midus.
"Thank you, Deitric. So now, I will like to present to you..." Midus reaches for the gold trophy, picking it up and handing it to the fighter, his name engraved into the plating at the base of the trophy. "The GTB Championship trophy! And here's your check of your money winnings."
He next hands Deitric the rectangular piece of paper, showing 72K worth of Gaia's currency. He then places out his hand to shake Deitric's before looking to the crowd again.
"Once again, congratulations to these hard-working fighters."
The crowd went into another set of applause, the sound capable of beating out even the loudest ship horn with all the craze that came from the excitement, more fireworks shooting into the sky and giving the crowd more of a show.
**"That's it for this year's Gaian Tenkaichi Budokai. However, this is not the end of the GTB's fighting entertainment. No, for we have something planned for the next month. Next month, we will be introducing our very own fighting league where fighters can sign up and fight for the sake of becoming the best over a longterm period of challenges between one another. So Deitric may have won today, but if he or if anyone else wishes to go even further and secure their place as the best, then they should keep their eyes peeled for the opening of this new event. Thank you."**
With that, he lowers the mic from his mouth and walks over to his officials, speaking amongst them about a job well done.
The fighter took the trophy with a nod, holding it in the crook of his arm so that he could take the check. With one arm full, he reached out with the other, shaking Midus's hand firmly before stepping back.
"Thank you. I enjoyed fighting here," Deitric offered with a slight nod.
Slipping the pocket away for safe-keeping, the tribesman held his trophy up to the crowd for a moment before turning away to leave from the back of the platform, using the 'backstage' to escape the crowds.
Unheard over the roiling crowds, the motorcycle's engine revved as the GTB II winner left the scene; already moving on to whatever endeavour he had next.
Third place wasn't so bad. After all, he'd fought halfway through hell and back in the tournament to sedate some sadistic sense of desire to win here. While the beginning rounds of the tournament started to hobble off in a most unfortunate path, he'd fought through the most difficult times, and the most painful moments.
So third place is fine. Yet there was that sense of dissatisfaction hanging in his heart while he walked up to the platform where the trophies were poised for their respective owners. He heard the all too familar name of Omi mentioned from Midus' speech as he approached, and while a bit disappointed that Omi didn't make it as first place, still... Second place is fine for that as well.
He paused, pulling out a flask of water and taking a gulp from it, listening to the guy that won first place. The swordsman never bothered to check up on any other matches nor people that were not his next opponent, usually just focusing on his own problems right after a fight with a dragonkin creature in some rounds back. Noting the formality in the guy's voice, he waited until the speech was almost done from the announcer before putting focus on himself.
In which the swordsman waltzed up beforehand, picked up his trophy, gave a brief, lazy shrug at the responses, and walked out from the sides, leaving the reporters and the mass-frenzied media to go chase after the winner's revving motorcycle.
Out of sight, Barsait caught wind of the announcement given the voice giving it wasn't exactly his definition of quiet. The fighter was now wearing his regular gear & armaments, save the sword he started out with which was now discarded. Upon hearing the verdict given, Omi's expression didn't even change. Apparently, he already had a good idea of whom won that round; with a few rare exceptions, it wasn't hard for him to see who the roaming eye dubbed superior in a match he himself participated in.
Below the mesh, cloth bandages wrapped about his gut and mid-ribs tightly; and although doing his best to hide it, a definitive limp could be seen. Not just injuries from the final match but an accumulation of all the bouts in this tournament - the two-time GTB participant was sore and aching all over. Yet it didn't show in his expression, steely peering over a small television within his room broadcasting the event.
So, in the end, he made it to the finals and lost. A worthy opponent made it to first, and a familiar face made it to third; things were rather tolerable. It didn't come down to a knock out spectacle like he wanted, but rather a judge's call; yet still, it was a ferocious match and one the mercenary'd be a liar not to admit was enjoyable. All the same, the 2nd place contestant rubbed his chin for a moment in light thought..
"So, second, eh? First tourney, I barely lasted until the semi-finals; this time, I contended for the championship. Not bad I suppose." Flicking a switch and a button - the room descended into darkness, already cleaned out of his few possessions. As the wooden door creaked open the final time it would for a while, Omi Barsait paused momentarily; a slight daze striking him. Overcoming it and securing the door shut, the fighter stood within an empty hall - departing whilst the ceremony was in bloom.
".. But I didn't go near far enough, either. I can tell I'm still in my infancy stage compared to what's possible; these hands're still inexperienced. Good match, Deitric.. 'Til next time." His weary words drawled from those parsed lips rather than his head; as the tired swordsman began a familiar act once more. Wandering right out and off the tourney grounds, taking odd turns and paths to avoid a crowd; he'd return for miscellaneous things, namely his payment - but for all intensive purposes..
[2nd place Finalist Omi Barsait]'s time at the Gaian Tenkaichi Budoukai was over for now.
[Midus's Office]
Settled in his chair within his office, sixteen large television screens were set in front of him, each displaying one of the fighting arenas that were going to be alive with action in a couple of hours. Standing next to his desk was one of his associates, a man with blue hair that fell to his shoulders, wearing a black attire that was custom, resembling a cloak. Upon Midus's desk was a bottle of a high quality drink in a bucket of ice, and food prepared for him on a table just to the side, dome-shaped coverings concealing it until he was ready.
"Well, the time has come, Xia, for the third GTB to begin. It's always nice to see a healthy roster of fighters entering in order to prove their prowess, while displaying their spirit of combat to the world." He brought his right hand to his chin, caressing his glove-covered appendage as he leaned back in his comfortable chair. "I wonder who will take the title this year."
Xia responded: "Well, sir, last year's champion, Deitric, is back, along with the second and third place. Matter of fact, a good sum of people from last year re-entered. It seems persistence for the top is their motivation."
"Then we are likely to see some interesting grudge matches. For example, Omi vs. Deitric, both finalists from last year. I was almost surprised to see that they were randomly paired. I'll be keeping my eye on that match."
[Midus's Office]
The headman himself sat there in his seat, looking up his large television screen as the weather was being displayed before him for the local area.
"Currently, a storm front is moving in from the west, going at about ten miles per hour..."
Beside him, his right-hand man Xia, responded: "That storm is heading our way. And the fights are suppose to begin tomorrow, the same time it'll arrive. It seems it would be best for us to close up the ceilings."
Midus's fingers drummed against one another as he stared with this small smirk on his face, scheming something in his mind.
"No...I have a different plan for this."
"A different plan?"
Midus's smile grew.
[Midus's Office]
Midus watched as the fights came to their time limit, halted officially by the blasting of the announcement speakers throughout each arena. Standing up from his seat, the head man walked to the door and exited without a word, leaving his subordinate Xia, standing there with a look of questioning on his face.
"He was oddly quiet," he said to himself.
[Infirmary]
With all of the other patients that need attending to inside the infirmary, Thurgood was placed in the furthest room from the action, on basic vital monitors, saline, and nutrient drips to sustain him in his coma, his blood having been replenished and his bleeding wounds having been stitched closed and right big toe re-attached using conventional means. Try as they might, the healers' magic didn't do a thing to help him, and in fact, the most powerful caster in the infirmary made Thurgood worse! So for now, he's out of consciousness, but not quite out of life, just lying there, with normal vital signs.
(edit to avoid double-posting)
Today however, Thurgood, based either on his own healing, or more likely the fact that he's itching to do something, woke up from his coma, then called the staff.
Long story short, Thurgood is being released, and he hopes to crash some Easter parties.
**Sandy Arena
Heita walked in casually, adjusting the harness of the H.F.O. on right forearm as he did so. It felt a little loose as he had put it on in quite the hurry. Stopping in the center of the arena he throw several mock punches into the air with his right arm, reintroducing the weight of the device to his body. It had been some time since he had the opportunity to go all out against someone. Bouncing back and forth on his sneakered toes, he thought of the light skirmishes he had had recently and chuckled to himself slightly.
Heita stood at an average height of 5'9" and weight approximately 195 lbs. with 10 lbs. of it belonging to his shield. His build was well defined and reminiscent of a battle harden shoulder. As his danced back and forth, his muscle could be seen "popping" underneath the thick white leather jumpsuit he was currently adorning.
He was warmed up and ready to go.**
H.F.O. Wrote:> (Heita’s Fuck you up Object) - A stainless steel motorized shield, a foot long in diameter. It has polished Teflon surface tempered for varying degrees of heat and cold. > The shield sits upon a handheld housing that acts as both a remote and battery. The shield is connected to the housing via a retractable 5ft tether line. The remote allows the shield to change rotational directions.
Sitting crossed legged upon a simple wooden chair, the wizard casually sipped at his cup of earl tea as boy threw punches at the ghost of the mid day air. Lowering the tea cup onto a small platter, the wizard raised a napkin and pressed it against his lips before placing both upon the wooden table before him. Rising from his seat slowly that man made a quiet joke about there being both a dinner and a show before laughing to himself. A well dressed individual with not even a stray hair breaking his perfectly kept hair, the wizard was something of an oddity on the battlefield. His navy blue suit jacket over a gray dress shirt with perfectly creased navy pants, were not the clothes of a warrior or blade master by any means. Instead of a sword he carried a simple pen, and instead of armor he wore a pair of white leather gloves.
A gloved hand rose into a sky and a soft snap could be heard as a finger struck against the palm of the hand. A puff of smoke consuming the table and chair before disbursing, leaving nothing but a simple black walking cane in it's wake. The wizard slowly reaching down to pick up the black cane by the gold handle with his right hand. Straightening up, Ea turned to face the stranger before planting the butt of his cane upon the arena's sand. "Well, lets get to it then" he said with a shrug of disinterest.
Notes:
Wizard's Wand: The black cane Ea carries with him at almost all times, both a walking stick and a wand, it's wooden fibers absorb magic and seal it within the staff until the command of release. Though constructed of simple wood, as magic travels through the cane's fibers the strength and durably extended beyond commonly known metals, allowing it the capability to guard against weapons such as swords and axes.
Ea The Wizard Wrote:
**With a quizzical look upon his face, Heita kept the rhythm of bounce, shook his arms and then rolled his shoulders and neck clockwise. I gotta find a way out of this god-forsaken dimension. He thought to himself in reference to Gaia before getting to the matters at hand and revving the motor on his H.F.O. " ...Let's..." Heita uttered low before dashing forward with full stride to close the distance between the two combatants. At about a 3 feet away from his opponent, Heita would suddenly strafe left at an incoming diagonal and hook with his right, aiming for his opponent's face. If the man's hearing was acute enough, he could possibly hear the sound of a clasp releasing over the low hum of H.F.O.'s motor.
It was at this point that Heita's opponent would catch wind of quite the anomaly. Large Print would appear before in mid air: 
and as Heita was executing his punch, the first would shatter and another would appear in it's place: 
... all the while a large rectangular bar would surface above Heita's head with a intricate silver border and Heita's name in stencil in the right upper corner.
Agression bar: Current: 300% Added: At Max Used: 0%
Health (Stamina) Meter: 100%**
There was a nice contradiction of fighting styles and personalities at play within this little showdown, evident to any onlooker. A built nearly 200 pound man driving his feet into the sands to throw a body forward at full stride with aggressive intent. While only a few several feet away stood a nicely dressed individual with approximate weight of 150 soaking wet. If one looked at the numbers, in pure physical strength it was almost like comparing a F150 to a Civic, in a straight on collision here was only one logical outcome. Ea understood this well enough to not put himself into a compromising position, remaining clear of hand to hand combat would be his best option by far.
His foe had cut a serious amount of distance in a rather short period of time, Ea pushing up onto the ball of his feet while leaning back at an ever so slight slant. A quick adjustment? At the distance of about three feet Heita's weight shifted and with a strafing step to the left had altered his direction of approach. This was beneficial for wizard, who also mirrored Heita's action of a left strafe. Ensuring his shoulders remain straight on his opponent allowed for Ea to keep his target as his cane quickly rose upwards. Given the locations, a swing of an arm would not reach the wizard, offering the advantage to the man with the stick. Another quick step followed after the strafe would place Ea in a position to strike at the back and side of his attacker. The cane came quick, the sleek black weapon coming at an angle to strike the back and rib cage of the heavy man. Not an impossible block but an uncomfortable one.
Always facing his opponent, Ea would back step away from his target whether he was successful with striking the rib cage or not. Allowing for the wizard to gather his wits. The cane striking into the sand once more as the left hand ran through the man dark blue hair. The white glove began to glow with a faint light as he drew it through the dark hair. A sense of wave like energy emitting from the leather as the hand lowered back onto the head of the cane. A soft transfer of energy looked like something of falling stars as the cane absorbed the soft light from the glove.
Thinking back the wizard was almost certain he had seen the most bizarre display. Bold print words appearing over his own head declaring the fight start with dramatic flare. The idea seemed crazy upon consideration but the man couldn't help but trust he eyes had truly seen this display.
1/5 Charge [Wizard's Wand]
Low [Magical Potency/Capabilities] Seals Still in Place
Health:100% Mana: 85%
Ea The Wizard Wrote:
**Assessment: Ea would move in unison with Heita, strafing to his left (and Heita's right) to position himself slightly behind Heita. Ea would then strike at Heita's exposed back/ribs with his cane.
Heita was already too committed to be able to change his actions as his opponent slipped back and behind his punch. All he could really do is keep track of Ea as he was regrouping himself. Seeing the cane raise to strike, Heita could do little to stop it. He would instead attempt an exchange. His back and ribs for the Ea's leading foot. Has Heita's hooking right recoiled, he would drop his forearm and aim his fist at Ea's dorsal.
Clank!
The H.F.O. would suddenly fly off it's housing and make a beeline for Ea's ankle.
Aggression bar: Current: 300% Added: At Max Used: 0%
Health (Stamina) Meter: 98%**
Movelist Wrote:> Rip-shot! - Using the speed of rotation of the H.F.O., Heita can rip into soft material with his shield. [Feeds 20% of the Aggression Bar]
Colonel Iyam A Heita Wrote:
Given the position of his cane, a counter would have been hard to sneak past the wizard's guard. Unless by chance it was a low spinning disk that was presumed to be a more permanent attachment. The intended target of the ankle was a challenger target despite catching the wizard off guard. Never turning his back on his foe, a direct path to the ankle was out of the question and the wizard was also in the process of putting distance between himself and his foe the moment the disk would catch up with him. The result was more of graze like a direct hit, the shield driving itself into he hard leather dress shoes and ripping into the cow hide before wheeling past or falling flat without momentum (unsure the location of the motor). Either way Ea wouldn't be harmed beyond a tore up shoe and a few scratches on his foot. Nothing deep to bring mention-able pain, but the lose of a majority of the top half of the leather shoe would mean he wouldn't have a safe guard the next time.
Grains of sand swirled like a whirl pool around the point where the cane had sank into the surface. The flow of energy twirling around the sleek black form of the Wizard's Wand. Kicking off the remains of his right shoe, Ea's socked foot entered the sand. The black fabric not revealing the level of injury to the foot. Both hands on his cane, the magical energy from the staff seemed to be cycling around itself and the gloved hands. It wasn't an energy transfer like before but an amplifier as the magical energy within the cane appeared to become replicated in the gloves.
1/5 Charge Completed Second Charge In Process [Wizard's Staff Magic amplifying powers make charge process rapid when the staff itself maintains a charge].
Seal(s) in Place
Mana: 85% Heath: 100% - despite minor scratches on foot and lose of shoe there was no vital health decreasing issues.
Short and Sweet: Ea is hit with Shield, No significant damage to be noted. Single charge complete and secondary charge in process. Approximate 7 foot distance between combatants.
In addition: This is my first attempt using this "bizarre" fighting rules/style of this guild. Not quite sure if i am doing it right in the slightest.
Ea The Wizard Wrote:
**Heita's would swing around so that he was again facing his opponent, who currently was putting on a magic show. The H.F.O.'s tether would reach it maximum range before recoiling the device back to it's housing on Heita's arm. Heita would stand-up tall and hold his right ribs, checking to see if anything was broken or the man had left anything on him. Final analysis, he was sore but fine. Given the distance his opponent kept between them, it would be futile for Heita to charge in at his opponent once more. Ea was obviously nimble and quick. Heita would now take the defensive.
Aggression bar: Current:300% Added:0% Used:0%
Health (Stamina) Meter:98%**
(( I guess my only suggestion thus far is not to incorporate too many actions in post. The general rule of a post is that it spans a second or 2 in time.))
Colonel Iyam A Heita Wrote:
The air popped as gloved hands turned into clenched fists, a passively outwards pushing aura creating a blurry image around the hands of the wizard. This signified the completion of a compiling process of mana into the gloves. Not bothering to straighten the tie that had split free from beneath his suit jacket, the wizard rather took the moment to analyze the stillness in his foe. It appeared to Ea that the man had taken the option to be on the defensive, most likely after the earlier confrontation being a rather mixed bag with no clear outcome.
A soft play of slight of hand allowed a pen to slip from a sleeve compartment into the right hand of the magician while within the left hand formed a spell similar to a "magic bullet". Though compatible in almost every way, this version of the magic bullet was rotating like a true bullet. Reducing friction which resulted in increased speed and accuracy. Both hands sprung forward, releasing the two makeshift bullets that moved like knives through the air towards Heita, each aiming for different point of the body. The pen aiming for the inner side of the right shoulder the magic bullet for the inside of the left knee joint. Both would puncture the body like a blade, cutting into flesh and remaining there until removed manually (if not blocked or dodged).
After releasing these "bullets", the wizard's right hand dropped back to his cane pulling it from the sand in preparation for counter.
2/5 Charges Heath - 100%
Ea The Wizard Wrote:
**Assessment: Being shot by magic. One potential shot to the inside of the knee and potential shot to the right clavicle.
Heita was perplexed by the exhibition, he'd never seen a pure "magic" being performed before him. This left him weary of his opponent and prone to avoid both attacks. Pivoting on the heel of his left, Heita would spin with a tight peekaboo-style guard (both arms parallel with one another with the fist positioned just under the bridge of the nose). This would allow for faster rotation and leave him susceptible to just the pen crossing over and cutting the skin and fabric across his knee.
Coming out the spin Heita would drop his upper body and forward, spring loading his legs so that he may dash forward. The dash would be low and fast; possibly tricking his opponent's vision into thinking Heita had possibly flash stepped in to a distance of 3ft.
Dropping his right from the guard, Heita would punch forward and release the H.F.O. from it's housing to shoot straight forward like an overgrown Frisbee aimed for his Ea's mid-section.
Aggression bar: Current:300% Added:0% Used:0%
Health (Stamina) Meter:98%**
Movelist Wrote:> Rip-shot! - Using the speed of rotation of the H.F.O., Heita can rip into soft material with his shield. [Feeds 20% of the Aggression Bar]
Colonel Iyam A Heita Wrote:
Now i know this may seem like 300 years 2 late, but i have full intention to respond in the upcoming day or two, life hasn't allowed me much gaia time of late. But you have not been forgotten!
Ea The Wizard Wrote:> Now i know this may seem like 300 years 2 late, but i have full intention to respond in the upcoming day or two, life hasn't allowed me much gaia time of late. But you have not been forgotten!
Well If you can manage something before Vintrict kicks us out and buries these threads...shoot for it.
Colonel Iyam A Heita Wrote:> Ea The Wizard Wrote: > > Ea The Wizard Wrote: > > > It was hard to swallow, but Ea had made a mistake. Blame could fall upon his cockiness or his ego, whichever seemed more appropriate. All the same he had drop his guard and allowed his foe an opening. Following his quick "dual cast", the Wizard's hands return to his cane as he lowered it to the earth, leaving his body without a guard. > Eyebrow raised as the man rotated into one of the most bizarre dodges he had seen in some time, he had almost missed the discharge of the H.F.O. from its holster. "Shii" > > Ea stumbled backwards, a spray of blood leaving his left shoulder as the H.F.O would continue past his body leaving its mark on the wizard body. A stern expression coming over Ea's face as he tightened the grip on his cane, the wizard's wand raised to near chest level, the black sheen marked up where the spinning disk had first struck. Taking a glancing blow from the weapon had served as a mean reminder of why, you never estimate your foe or his ability to use the tools at his disposal. Admittedly this had been Ea's error. His left arm was still usable, the wound wasn't the worst he had received but it would hamper his arm strength enough to create a weakness in his guard. > > Cutting the distance wasn't something the wizard had often tried to prevent, but Heita had played his cards well and keeping the distance had proven harder then expected. Having falling back a step, the distance between the two extended to 4 feet, a workable distance. Flicking his socked footed foot, the well dressed man kicked up rough sand into the vision of the man who had just proceeded with a low approach. Hidden behind the distract of sand, would come a fast moving project aimed towards the core of the body. Considering the low profile however, as the staff was aimed towards the main mass it could possible strike the face unless Heita rose up. The thought behind his counter motion was to use Heita aggression to the benefit of the wizard. As Heita dashed forward his body was now very committed to a single forward direction, momentum and form making it very hard to now alter direction or path quickly enough to dodge the incoming staff. This is not to say it is impossible, but rather greatly difficult. It was likely however Heita could foresee the chances of the incoming staff (though it would be a bizarre he he would assume a wizard would throw his main tool), to greatly increase his chances on a glancing blow and lesser injury. > > The staff on result on contact with Heita or the ground would result in a blast, an explosion which would send out a force wave followed by heat. Capable of greatly damage a body at close range and mildly effecting it at a distance. To be considered as something much like a combination of a shrapnel less frag and an incendiary. The effects of soft flames even reaching Ea enough have hot sand burn his spin. > > Charge: 2 (-1) Staff based spell, reduces Charge to 1 > Heath: 87%