Port Gambino

The port was practically swarming with people. Fans, reporters, photographers, everyone who wanted to see the fighters off before the boats left was there to see them arrive, because no one except the fighters was allowed aboard.

The crowd was divided by security, clearing the way for the teams to board their ships when they arrived. The only thing odd about it was that... there were two ships!

Two separate ships, one for each team. It seemed that the fight was not slated to start just yet, as the teams were divided.

The ships would leave soon, and any member that was unable to run the media gauntlet and board their team's ship before the boats left would not be on the boat for the match, leaving their team at a disadvantage.

(( Roughly 2 days will be given to roleplay before the match officially begins. ))

Camera flashes caught a black blur racing down the red carpeting. Reporters on all sides shouted out questions, leaning over the ropes holding them back to try and shove a microphone in front of the speeding creature. But she was beyond hearing, beyong reason, beyond...

BAM!

...beyond looking where she was going, apparently, as she bowled straight into Athan's legs from behind.

You see, what the large swordsman hadn't noticed was that Owle had been right behind him...until she caught sight of the reporters and dug her paws into the ground. Her ears sliding back flat against her skull, she had hissed in their general direction, then, steeling her nerves, the large black cat had coiled her muscles and charged.

Her plan had been to run straight through the line of media and fans. Straight onto the barge, then fall asleep on top of one of the crates till it was time for the match to start. Athan interrupted that, though...

The ears went back.

The tail drooped.

The eyes enlarged until they were at 'pity me' size.

And the not quite tiger cringed.

"I'm sorry!"

Ack ack! So many pictures!

"Really, I was just trying to avoid them.."

She whined, a pitiful mewling deep in her throat.

"I didn't mean to..."

Towards one of the barges that Swords wasn't heading for, a forklift could be seen speeding along. A large crate was it's payload and said crate would be deposited on the dock.

A short muffle was heard as the crate was left there, the driver scratching his cheek a bit, before backing up and zooming away again.

Soon the crane was used to lift the crate off the dock and onto the barge not being used by Swords.

The large crate was lowered gently, and nothing more was said of the matter.

The crate was marked for Leviathan.

And there seemed to be holes cut into it, one of which had a yellow eye peeking out.

Athan grinned and knelt down, giving Owle a little scratch behind the ears before he stood up and started heading up the ramp onto the barge. Cheers and cameras following him as he ascended the wooden planks.

Despite his usual aversion to water, he didn't seem too worried at that particular stage. His nerves prior to the event that was about to take place were too jumpy to even register the potential phobia.

He turned to shout over his shoulder towards Owle.

"C'mon! Let's get going!"

The moment he set foot on the deck of the ship, he took a couple steps forward and placed his hands on his hips, whistling low at the sight.

"This oughta be fun."

"Meroooow..."

The ears slowly came back up as he scratched her, tail returning halfway to normal. Owle wasted no time in following Athan onto the barge, then settled down atop one of the crates, putting her head down on her paws.

"Fighting Glacier's gonna be rough...not cause we can't take them, but cause I know two of them..."

That was gonna be pretty ugly.

And speak of the devil.

Just as Flare was speaking to Athan about the b*****d, the media would go nuts.

A stretch limo would have pulled up right alongside the entranceway reserved for the docks, and where the media was parted.

Talk about your walk of fame.

Or shame.

Stepping out of the door that was opened for him, was Vahn himself. Wearing the same black coat from a couple of nights ago, and sporting a patch over his left eye underneath the sun glasses he wore, he let the photographers get their shots in, before moving forward.

His shoes shined with a polished black hue, as the dress shirt he wore was opened at the color, despite how cold it was.

It was, the middle of winter on Gaia after all.

But no snow sadly.

He began walking down the middle, the shouts and flashes of light going off all at once. Living at the stadium as long as he did, and being a part of last year's tournament, as well as countless others on Gaia, Vahn was used to it all. No reason to shun it, or hate it--- just all part of the big circus.

He knew what he was here for.

And he was going to have to go through just one more team to get it.

Striding down the media gauntlet, he answered a few sparse questions here and there, not even looking as if he were dressed for a fight today.

Eventually he would see Shouyin running ahead of him, towards one of the barges, presumably the same one that had just had last minute cargo unloaded onto it, as Vahn had requested.

Giving one last look behind him, he'd finish making his way toward that barge, glancing towards where Swords was.

"......"

"Ladies and gentlemen please!

Would you bring your attention to me?

For a feast for your eyes to see,

An explosion of catastrophe."

A man stepped out between the two ships; standing upon one of the planks that bridged them. He held a microphone in his hand, wore a smile on his face, and his black trench coat flapped in the sea breeze.

The Judges stood by silently as he spoke, and the teams that had assembled were to wait upon the decks of their ships as the sidelines for this naval battle.

"Ladies and gentlemen good evening!

You've seen that seeing is believing.

Your ears and your eyes will be bleeding.

Please check to see if you’re still breathing.

Hold tight 'cause the show is not over!

If you will please move in closer.

Your about to be bowled over

By the wonders you’re about to behold here."

He reached inside the breast of his jacked and pulled out a telescoping pointing rod as the introductory fanfare finally settled. Whipping it out in his right hand to extend it he stepped up onto the rail of one of the ships and began pacing down the side of it as he pointed.

"Today's match will be the defending champion team Glacier versus the up-and-coming challenger Project: Swords!"

The pointer whipped across to one ship.

"Cameras are located here, here, here, here, here, here-"

It whipped back to the other ship.

"-here, here, here, here, and pretty much everywhere in that general direction there."

Reaching another plank that bridged the gap between ships, the man held the pointer straight out down the center line that divided the two ships.

"In the event of a fire, your emergency exit can be found..."

He let go, and the pointer dropped forty feet into the churning waters below.

"...here."

There was a pause... one long enough to make them question whether or not he was even going to resume talking at all; but he did, suddenly and quickly as if he had never even stopped.

"Welcome to the glorious and beautiful Sea of Gambino. Off the port bow you can see the skyscrapers of Durem in the distance. Ooh. Aah. Very nice. On the starboard side we instead have a pod of dolphins. Wave to the adorable aquatic mammals people. Wave. OKAY!

My name is James Black, I'll be your host this evening and just so we're all friendly I'd like to introduce faceless Judges A, B, C, D, E, and the twins GUSTAV and Larry. Aren't they just the spitting image, people?" As he spoke he pointed to each of them in turn...

"Would the team captains please state your match terms for the public and then we can get this show on the road? Really, people, it's a wonder you get anything done with how much time you waste standing around chattering like geese with the blah blah blah blah blah~.

If you have any questions you know where to find me."

Then, in a sudden dismissal, the eccentric announcer plodded off towards the bow of one of the ships.

The Judges were here to control the match. He was here to make stupid comments and cue the sound effects guy.

"Tch," Shouyin furled his brow, reaching into the back of his jeans and carefully withdrawing the axe (that s**t'd cut you deep). Holding it in his left hand, he reared it up over his head, much like he had against Nicholas. Except, instead of slipping off to the side and putting it in between anyone's shoulder blades, he swung his arm downwards, wedging the axehead in the deck of the tanker. Didn't matter that the floor he was standing atop was metal, it stuck in there quite nicely.

Gasp! Did this mean he was gonna go up against that huge sword with just his bare hands?

The half-golem pulled off his sweater and the t-shirt underneath, along with those hefty boots and socks. His neckline and both wrists were bare (FIGHTER notwithstanding), so the only thing he was wearing were his jeans and a pair of boxers, along with that black leather belt. Odd that he seemed so calm despite what he was about to get himself into. Small plank, big sword, and a long way down, and there he was entirely unarmed.

Although, one might consider those hands as dangerous as any weapon.

Smirking at the thought, the man stepped onto the plank. He walked the short distance towards Athan at a slow but strangely fluid pace. His left hand held onto his belt buckle, that stone right arm hanging loosely. Who knows how long that thing o' wood was, but Shou kept moving on, as slow as ever. You think he'd wanna get right to it, loping around barechested in this beastly chill, but he seemed quite comfortable with it. Although, Shouyin was a mountain-man at heart, probably used to this kinda temperature.

Still smirking wild, Shou would look over Athan's shoulder, eyeing Flare suspiciously. Wasn't like he'd just gone and forgotten the second girl to ever set his hair up in flames. Even staring at her he was all smiles. All smiles, as if he wasn't even thinking, his mind gone blank. All smiles, as the plank suddenly lurched, the half-golem placing his right foot in front and snapping out his right hand in a vertical-fisted straight punch for Athan's abdomen. He'd push off his rear foot, actually hopping forwards just a bit as he popped his body counter-clockwise, torquing his shoulder and putting all his body weight into the straight lead.

However, something would be different. The people surrounding the pair might be able to catch the movements, but for Athan: a fighter assumedly looking for the common signs of an attack, it'd all be just a blur. All smiles; the half-golem barely even knew what was going on as he punched, temporarily abandoning his own thought process for a lightning fast strike that couldn't be predicted, because Shou didn't know it was happening either.

Mukuuken Wrote:

Mukuuken (Nothing But Fist) - One of the most powerful 7th Chamber techniques, drawing from a special type of Chinese martial arts called Renkoukeiken. It revolves around three principles: Muhyoushi (no rhythm), Muishiki (no consciousness), and Musatsui (no killing intent). Combined this equals an ultimate attack where you pound away unconsciously. A "mukuu" punch, cannot be predicted. There is no telegraph, no mental preparation, the brain does not think it, the spinal cord does not send the necessary signals; the fist attacks using the will of the fist itself. The only drawback to this technique is the effort, or rather, lack of effort required to keep your mind completely empty as you attack, to not even know that you are attacking.

Shouyin had no chance to answer Athan's question, his fist did it for him.

Not a word spoken, and in an instant the silence was broken.

1

Shouyin came into it again as Athan finished sliding back, and began swinging his sword around. There wasn't much the half-golem could do to stop it, that piece of wood beneath their feet made things bloody difficult. However, there was no way around it, he'd have to cross this bridge, and there was only one way to do it:

Keep moving forward.

It was assumed Athan could swing that thing mighty quick, nobody with that big a sword would risk things otherwise, but it was still the flat of the blade, and the one thing always stronger than man was nature; all hail wind resistance. The half-golem would swiftly step in front with his left foot now, legs about shoulder and a half length apart, knees bent low. Right hand would be clenched in a fist at his hip, left fist held up in front, back of the hand facing Athan in a sort of "shake harder boy!" position, but forearm tensed and immobile. A strange reverberation would be felt throughout the entirety of the plank as he planted his heel down, a sort of hissing crack sound escaping below the sole of his left foot.

Shouyin inhaled sharply through his nostrils. Closing the gap would hopefully stifle some of the strength of Athan's swing, since momentum got weaker closer to the wrist, but it'd still smash into Shouyin's upper left shoulder right painfully, though it wouldn't really show. A circle of something resembling steam would spread in all directions from the area of contact as the half-golem resisted the blow and kept himself motionless. Like when Bruce Lee centered himself in a firm stance while on the set of the film, and had the biggest guys try whatever they wanted to lift him up, or even make him budge, without success. Shou finally exhaled with a low 'osuuu'.

"I am stone, you cannot move me."

The man would speak as he swung both arms down past his hips, fists clenched. In sync with this he'd step forward once more, this time planting his right heel to Athan's stomach with a hefty front kick that'd probably propel the man backwards off the plank and onto his own ship once more.

Time to cross the bridge.

2

Shouyin pursued, sort of. Grinning, he walked after Athan, pulling off his belt as he did. A strange, and somewhat disturbing thing for one grown man to be doing in the presence of another during a fight, but let's not let our minds wander eh? The half-golem would wrap the leather strap around his right hand a few times until there was about two and a half feet hanging loose, the buckle on the end. He'd hold onto the buckle loosely with the same hand, so it made a loop.

So, he wasn't unarmed after all.

"Only if I lead," when Athan started rushing, the stone man would charge in as well, matching his opponent's pace. His breath was shallow, bright green eyes focused on his opponent's solar plexus; the eyes could fake you out, but the center couldn't, and Shou couldn't afford to get deked out, you didn't underestimate a big chunk of iron when it had a dull edge that was aimed to smash your side in.

Now move!

xpjs technique: swordocity! [duck]

The half-golem released the buckle, letting the belt hang loose as he dropped downwards, left leg thrown out far in front, right knee almost touching the deck as he went through the motions of his exaggerated bob and weave to the left. As the vicious looking blade flew over Shouyin's head, he whipped his right arm about, aiming to loop the belt around Athan's lead ankle. The man would then rise up as he grabbed the buckle again in his right hand and yanked on the leather strap. The half-golem had more than enough strength to pull Athan's leg out from underneath him, and with all the momentum in that sword, the other leg would follow along nicely.

It was just about time to go to work.

3

"Damn impatient runt."

Walking out along the deck, with more than a few feathers ruffled, was Vahn.

Finally making an appearance apparently as he went to go get changed from his street clothes.

He was dressed most appropriately like so: .

"Oomph!" Shouyin only had enough time to bring his left hand up and press downwards, basically redirecting the knee towards his chest as he began to stand up, and was shoved straight back down. However, the impact wasn't enough to make him let go of the belt, and as he was sent onto his back, Athan would as well, feet tugged out from underneath him and such.

If that worked out, the half-golem would scramble around onto his stomach, facing his opponent as he did his best to pounce on Athan. Just a whole lot of sloppy to get himself on top of the swordsman, hopefully with legs on either side of the man's hips as he began to throw straight punches at Athan's face.

It was way too messy to be really conceivable, but Shou had to try.

With that sword, the only safe distance was right up close on the ground.

4

Woops! Flying back all over again. Shouyin's breathing was ragged as he recovery rolled backwards and onto his feet. That double boot knocked the wind out of him, but it wasn't anything he couldn't quickly get over.

"Never fought something like that, gotta step it up," the half-golem made an expression like he had a bad taste in his mouth, then started stretching his arms. He and Athan weren't too far apart, and there Shou was, just limbering up. Welp, it couldn't be helped, those first two moves had gotten him all tense.

Then, when he was done, or whenever Athan got fed up and moved in to get s**t done, Shou would move into a new stance. Legs just a little over shoulder-width apart, left in front with hands open and held up at shoulder level, arms about about a foot and a half in front of his torso.

Doo doo doo. ~

5

Shou grinned, flexing his fingers.

That thing's gonna be a problem with the way I fight. It's not something I can just use a disarm technique on, it's too damn -big-, and he keeps his other hand free. I can't get inside his guard without risking greater damage, whether I get hit off balance and he goes to work on me, or I just end up getting my skull indented. It was a beautiful cliché, time slowing down as the half-golem considered the stand-off.

I could tire him out, but that's risky, and boring, 'cause I don't play that way. Anyways, ******** probably has as much stamina as I do, more, 'cause he's obviously used to that thing. It's got too much force behind it for me to be to just grab it more than a few times, and the stone isn't going to keep me from getting my ribs shattered. No, there's only one way to get rid of this problem, sorta quaint too... Athan was closing in now, the other man breathing slow and deep, in through the nose, out through the mouth, trying to focus on his next action despite the rapid thoughts.

I need to break it.

Green eyes flared, the golden yellow spots in the irises circling around in a sort of yin yang figure. But, it's gonna take a few tries. None of us have ever done this before-- we were happy with our playing field, stone was our game, and we were good at it. That's a tradition thing though, just like Hiso. Times change, and we have to keep up with 'em. I'm not the last of my kind, but the rest are inbred ********, and they know it, too scared to let go of the tribe. The elements are the same, just... -refined-, more pure; periodic table and all that: granite's just a bunch of metal oxides, and metal is metal. Take away the excess material, and you have that pure element, the source of what we do.

The source of what -I'll- do.

As the sword came swinging downwards, Shouyin would slide his right foot to his left, stepping off on the circle, crossing that leg behind the other. He could've just tried avoiding the stroke, but he had to see if he could do this. Left hand would come across, the heel of his palm striking the flat of the blade and pushing it to the side, like he was hitting it or something. Not what he might've done normally, but smacking a giant hunk of iron was totally Shou's style. And, as contact was made, there'd be that spark. Athan might feel a reverberation in the hilt, but only Shouyin would see the circular waves of pale white that travelled from his hand, down both lengths of the blade. They changed nothing, but it was the fact that he -saw- them that mattered. Then the half-golem would uncross his legs, stepping off to the left with his lead leg, and backing up a few paces.

One more time.

6

"Guess--" -that- will have to wait. Shouyin was cut short as he clenched his teeth to save from biting his own damn tongue off when the punch came in. An orcish maw of stone formed around his lower jaw, Athan's uppercut smashing into it roughly and forcing the half-golem's head back. Of course, that didn't stop him from bringing his right hand up into guard and rotating his body clockwise, as he brought his left fist around in a heavy left hook for the right side of Athan's head.

RAH, BOXING.

7

"Ch'!" Sure this was Shou's zone, but the sudden change in rhythm caught the half-golem a little off guard. This guy was -hefty-, he'd felt it with that uppercut, still woozy despite the stone. Felt like two bricks smashing together with this ********, and mayn, it was intense. S'pose that insane physique made sense though, throwing around that sword all the time.

Nevertheless, Shou knew size didn't matter, and while this guy used it right, he was a swordsman.

And he'd just gotten into a boxing match with the white, metahuman equivalent of Ali.

The half-golem ducked and stepped off to the left, bobbing and weaving underneath Athan's right hook in order to get access to the man's back. Torquing his body clockwise once more, he'd attack with another sharp left hook, aiming for his opponent's right kidney. The follow-up elbow would be interrupted as Shou's knuckles slammed into the organ.

A strike to the kidney usually made the back straighten, and this is what Shouyin would be aiming for as he then grabbed Athan, left hand on the lower back, right hand behind the neck. Not a real hold per se, but a way of keeping Athan still as the half-golem drove his right knee into the other man's lower right side, around the liver area.

So maybe it wasn't a boxing match, but Shou was still flying like a butterfly 'n stinging like a bee.

8

God damn abs of steel. Things were gonna be a little harder than he'd hoped for. Course, that did nothing to settle the excitement running through Shou's veins right now. The stone-laden blood started pumping even faster than usual, fueling his muscles at an accelerated rate, he was running on such a battle high, he didn't even notice the cut that'd just opened above his left eye as his head was smashed into the flat of the blade.

<********>

And then he started noticing things. He resisted Athan's pull somewhat, but the guy had him dazed and moving, and it took one more smack to jolt his head enough to consider forming a layer of stone overtop the contact area (the original maw having sunk back underneath the skin long ago). He stumbled backwards from Athan after taking all four blows, half grimacing at the slowly numbing pain in the left side of his forehead, half grinning wild at all the hurting going on right now.

Every fighter was a sado-masocist on the inside anyways.

"Some dance, you're too rough." ~

9

"Alright," he wasn't talking to Athan though, despite the affirmation. Shou was a little loopy, but his head was still in the game, and while he'd tried to take advantage of his opponent while he wasn't holding his weapon, that sword still found some method of getting in the way. So he readied himself, 'cause it was time to get rid of it.

The half-golem placed his right foot forward, going into a basic fight stance, lead arm hanging down somewhat. He exhaled very slowly, eyes going half-lidded as he focused on that stone fist, he didn't really need to see Athan anymore, he could -feel- him through the deck of the ship, the -metal- deck. He watched the flow of energy move through Athan's body in those same pale white circles, travelling in a wave from his opponent's planted lead foot, and down his shoulder as well, through the length of the blade itself as it came a'swinging up on the diagonal.

Shouyin had no power over time, but once again things seemed to slow down as he stepped off just slightly to the right, moving on the circle as he shifted his body to face that slab of metal you might call a sword. The half-golem was grinning, even as he threw his right hand up in a vertical fisted uppercut.

He was going to -punch- the sword?

Seemed asinine, right idiotic in fact. The only thing such a useless move could do was shove the tip of the sword right into his eyes. Some of the people watching from home would still wonder what the point of it was, even as Shouyin's fist smashed straight through the flat of the blade, metal splintering, folding, and even splashing away, drops of liquidized steel mixing in with the spray of mercury that burst outwards like blood as he punched a hole in the sword. Even more impressive would be the secondary action. For, instead of Shou's fist being caught in the sword, the edge holding his hand in would melt right away, the far end that was about to cut out his left eye actually turning to rust that fell apart like dust or ash. Athan would probably swing a little wide as the weight of his sword was cut down by a third, drawing an arc of mercury across the sky as Shouyin just stood there poised...

And grinning wide.

10

[St. Anger - Metallica]

"......"

His right eye followed the fight in its entirety up to that point... Shouyin was most impressive as usual in hand to hand, although it seemed he was still getting the hang of armed combat.

Athan was better suited for it and had he continued along that route, he could have evenly matched Shouyin, as well as kept him at bay.

The first mistake had been allowing himself to try and go at with Shouyin mano a mano.

You stick to what you did best, don't let an opponent dictate the terms of engagement.

However--- Vahn was also surprised at Shouyin's movements and effect on the metal itself.

As far as he knew, the boy only had an affinity for the earth itself...

However, in breaking the swordsman pride, he had just unleashed something... a very primal something....

The butcher of Romme?!! Here?!

First a thud as he encountered the man made of stone, followed by his arms moving around Shouyin's waist. Shouyin was first being slid back, but as they continued forward, even as Shouyin wrapped an arm around his neck, Athan locked both of his wrists and lifted the stone man up off the ground. Probably a shock to both him and the camera crews. Was he going to ram his opponent into a steel box? Smash him into the ground?

When Athan was without his sword, he wasn't a grappler, he wasn't a hand to hand fighter. He was hardly much of a brawler. But he could improvise.

The idea of winning the fight for the benefit of his team had long since left his mind. His friends, the cameras, his home country, everything was gone. Temporarily thrown aside as he was consumed by rage. All that was left was Shouyin. His opponent. His enemy. A murderer.

Just like him.

Guillotine chokehold or not, Athan had the benefits of momentum, size, and leverage, as any football player would tell you, working for him. His initial intention had always been to rip Shouyin's base from underneath him and slam him back first to the ground.

This had changed the moment that the hands had wrapped around his neck and back. Now he wasn't going to throw Shouyin to the deck of the boat, he was going to carry him off of it.

With a primal roar, Athan took off across the deck. He hadn't even taken more than eight steps before his breath became ragged as the air was slowly choked out of him. The only thing keeping him going was the need to defeat the man that had unleashed this beast. To destroy him by any means possible. Personal safety, honor, whatever, none of it mattered.

Fifteen feet forward, and all it took was one step on the prow of the barge before he had quite literally launched himself off the boat, Shouyin still held tight.

And the two of them would plummet all the way down to the water, Athan using Shouyin as a sort of buffer to absorb what impact they would face upon striking the water's surface. With the exception being Athan's face, which was neatly tucked underneath Shouyin's arm, it would probably be the first to hit. Although that didn't matter. The round didn't matter, pain, death...none of it mattered..

The only thing Athan could consciously do was watch from the darkest corners of his mind, condemned there like some sort of prisoner. A just punishment, for having failed to reign himself in.

"I'm...falling."

Athan spiraled down through darkness, not cold ocean air. His arms outstretched in front of him, looking towards a tiny glint of light that seemed to be fading further and further away.

"Why am I falling?"

Down, further. Now tendrils of light were beginning to descend from that tiny speck, thick as tree limbs. Ropes, perhaps?

"Am I dead?"

There was nothing to answer his questions. Only more silence. The tendrils of light were beginning to lose their thickness. Little by little, they were slowly reduced to thin strands as he rocketed past.

The darkness was soon replaced by fire. Internally, it felt as if he were burning alive. But that wasn't the only thing. His entire skin had the sensation that it was being eaten alive. So much pain...but he didn't react to it. He felt...dead.

And that was when he saw it. He witnessed himself, wading through the militarized city as if it were nothing. The city's streets were stained red, his entire body was covered in blood that wasn't his own. But it wasn't possible. That thing wasn't him. It was...

"A monster..."

And then he turned. Athan, for the first time, was face to face with himself. The rage he saw in that thing's eyes was enough to startle his mind, shut off the image almost as quickly as it had appeared.

And Athan realized what those strands of light were for now. His right hand shot out, gripping tightly to the whisp that remained. Hardly thicker than a hair, he stopped his own descent into madness.

"I AM NOT THAT MAN!"

SPLASH

"And you just killed my grandfather."

Owle, who had just been laying down observing all this time, suddenly shot to attention. She knew, vaguely, about Gramps...not much, but enough to know what the sword shattering and those words probably meant...

An explosion of gold came from the barge, an explosion only Vahn would see. The black cat, to the eyes of Vahn and Owle alone, was lost in a see of golden serpents, shooting out in all directions, mouths open wide, searching hungrily for...

Jaws clenched down, gently, grasping the mindsoul without hurting it. A mindsoul that had recently gone flying away from a broken sword.

And they pulled, reeling in like so much fishing line until they, and their precious cargo, vanished within Owle.

It occurred to her only just then that this was Not A Good Idea.

---

It was really very peaceful where Gramps was.

A nice, forest path, lined with evergreen trees and planted with dark grasses. He was lying there, in whatever form he thought he ought to be in, facing towards where the path seemed to open up into a clearing of sorts. Behind him was the void.

Well, no, that's technically innaccurate. A void was a dark, empty place. Behind him there was darkness...but this darkness was not empty. In fact, it seemed to be full to bursting with something, as if the darkness was only a cover to keep the many things hiding within it from coming to light...

Between him and the darkness, there was a gate. No handle, no lock, it would probably take him some time to figure out how to get through it.

And everything, from the earth beneath him to the trees surrounding him, to the sky above him, bore some intrinsic, invisible property that simply felt like Owle. It was the oddest thing.

Shouyin plummeted backwards, almost expecting to go right off the edge, but instead ramming into the deck painfully, groaning half from the pain in his lower back, and half from the effort required to keep on holding the guillotine, keep on choking Athan out, keep on going. He couldn't see out of his left eye, blood had seeped into it from the cut on his brow, there was another gash on the back of his head, it felt like the ship had just jabbed him in the brain, the throbbing was so intense. Cole's blood and his own coated his feet along with the steel.

But the Butcher kept on moving.

"Damn it!" the half-golem was roaring out now; he'd settled it now. He was -not- falling, this was -not- the way it'd end. His right arm was crumbling, the inner core becoming more dense, more tight, letting the excess rock turn to dust and fall off his shoulder. His left bicep was so tense it was twitching, his forearm muscle clenched fiercely as he gripped his right wrist. His teeth clenched, his lip bleeding from where he'd originally bit down on it and tore the flesh away. His lats, although it wasn't noticable, were pulled tight, it almost felt like Shou was being stabbed in the armpits from the flexing.

And then his back started to tear itself apart.

Shouyin was so focused on taking Athan down-- of stopping the Butcher himself, ending it on -his- terms, that he was no longer concerned with his body's own safety. Some people called it the feed-back loop, where the brain tells the body to stop contracting the muscles, usually when a weight is too heavy. Evidence of people ignoring this effect could be seen in the news every so often, when a soccer mom lifts a car up to save her child, or a mental patient bends the steel bars of his cell.

The human body has the capacity for practically unbelievable feats of strength, the only thing holding it back is the brain telling it what's too dangerous, and Shouyin had just overcome that. His trapezius muscles were actually -rippling- as they contracted, Shouyin was so intent on the chokehold. Parts of the large back muscle were now tearing themselves thin, a few strands actually snapping apart. The half-golem screamed.

Either Athan was going to go to sleep soon, or Shouyin would rip his head right off.

Battle.

13

"..."

Sweat and blood mixed together, dripping off Shouyin's body slowly as he remained entirely still, except of course for the dangerously gentle rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. His left shoulder twitched, and the half-golem winced. It was manageable however, that arm was just hanging loosely anyways, and at least he was still alive.

What happened--- where is he?

Rewind the tape to a few moments earlier, Shouyin roaring at the Heavens as his muscles spasmed and ripped and burst, trying his utmost best to squeeze the last drop of life out of that guy's struggling limbs, still trying so furiously to throw them both of the edge. He hardly even acknowledged the pain of Athan biting into his flesh, caught up as he was in the furor of this animalistic struggle. What he did notice however, was the sudden lurch in his gut as his abdominals gave out, and Athan pulled both of them over the edge of the ship.

How Shouyin pulled it off amidst all the pain and inability to focus on anything except knocking this guy out could only be chalked up to instinct; that queer lil' b*****d in the back of the mind that always seemed to save people from hopeless situations at the last moment. As Athan expelled the final burst of strength and effort and went limp, the half-golem released his chokehold, right hand stretching out to grasp the side of the ship, stone fingers slipping into the metal hull like it was water and suddenly gripping tightly, peeling away a sharp hole in the boat as he swiftly came to a halt, about three feet down from the edge.

The half-golem would yell out as Athan's dead weight, connected to him by the teeth, would tear a mouthful of flesh from his back, but there wasn't much he could do besides hold on tight, praying he could keep his arm, and the rest of his body, in one piece long enough for somebody to come and pry him from the ship's hull. He exhaled slowly, and for a moment, blanked out.

Hanging by a thread, that's how he'd wait for the end.

"..." SPLASH!

"The hell?"

Gramps wasn't sure what had happened. A sudden break in his prison, and now he was in...wait, was this Heaven? He eased his old self up to a standing position, not exactly the strapping young warrior that his grandson was, Gramps fit the ideal crazy old coot with a beard stereotype pretty well.

He put a hand on his back, as if to crack it, but nothing happened. He was a spirit, after all.

"Feh. What's that idiot grandson O' mine got me into now? I swear, he'd chop his own arm off if I hadn't taught that slacker what was good for 'im."

He really didn't look to be all in that pleasant of a mood. Here he was, a grumpy spirit of a hundred year old man without a clue as to what was going on, other than that he had his grandson to thank for it.

A grandson who was probably getting himself killed, at that.

"'Ey! God? That you? I wanna take a rain check on this little date ya got planned. Y'see my boy back on Earth needs me 'fore he hurts someone. And I know you're not really for that kinda thing."

Athan probably wouldn't like this. But then, he probably wouldn't have liked having someone jump in and haul his a** out either. It was one loss for Swords!, but... this, the big man would probably get over before too long. Wondering if he could have done it alone, that he might have been caught up on forever.

Still, it felt like he was just feeding himself excuses.

...Butcher of Romme, hm...?

Didn't know...

Kalis' eyes tightened, and he brought a hand up, scratching below his jaw idly with one finger. In a moment, he relaxed again.

Well. I'll just have to ask him later.

It's time to get started.

He pushed the pause button and lazily plucked each earpeice out, letting them hang down. He stuffed it into his waist pouch, zipping it in with his other valuables, and unclipped, letting the pouch fall to the ground with a clunk.

Eyes of crimson fire rose, inching along the man on the other side of ship, the only remaining member of Glacier in sight.

Something...

Something wasn't right. This guy was... but... yes. That's right. He knew him.

Vahn Kyonuske Wrote:

"....." Vahn would have given a quick look towards the voice that spoke with familiarity towards him, even as he already started moving in a direction. He gave the man no reply, simply moving on.

But the glimpse at Vahn's face would have made Kalis think he had tried talking to some beast of a man, and not a normal guy at all.

'cause he looked ******** up.

...the berserker...?

That's right. He'd seen the man standing around the flaming ruins of a Skinner outpost, back during the incident in the Vale. Kalis had changed completely since, but this man was familiar enough. What was he doing...

Flare Sithfallin Wrote:

"Vahn's nothing to worry about; it's not like you'll have to fight him," Flare remarked. "Be careful, by the way," she cautioned Athan. "The man can light his own blood on fire."

A crimson eye went wide, tightening slowly, and focusing on the man sharply.

Fire...huh...

Hnng...

He let his hands both go slack, tucking them into his pockets. Without a word, Swords!' other swordsman, swordswomen not included in said count, started slowly across deck toward the far barge.

He remembered hearing that name before. He was still having issues with his own name at that point, in a way. Kalis- Rayner- either or, remembered.

Owle Isohos Wrote:

"I think so," Owle said, nodding to herself. "He mentioned that he had to find her...that she needed him. So she's probably lost somewhere...just like Rafe is. Vahn and I do care about each other, its just...we know there are other people who hold our hearts."

It seemed like ages upon ages ago, but in a fuzzy, hazy way, he recalled it. When a troubled boy, no different than any other civilian, far outside the world he immersed himself in now, in the Heaven or Hell and all elsewhere, had given a not-so-common troubled girl in a bar a shoulder to cry on for just a single moment where she found herself utterly alone. The very foot of the path to where he was now.

Vahn Kyonuske.

This could be interesting.

The hard sound of metal on metal turned to a clunking as he started onto the wooden boards amid ships.

Red eyes focused tight, straight ahead. It was time to start pulling his weight, see what he could do.

"Well.

We're not going to keep them waiting, are we?"

This could be fun.

-1-

Kalis kept on going as Vahn passed him, glancing back as the man went, and then right ahead again, hands tucked into his pockets. What was he doing?

He idled his way across Glacier's deck, right over to Shouyin's axe. Footsteps stopped right next to it, and he slowly bent over, taking a grip with the left.

Bearded hand axe.

He wrenched the weapon free by the end of the haft, standing back up and tossing it in his hand until his fingers settled under the beard in a tight grip. The balance was good, and the thing felt alright, all around.

This'll work.

He turned back around again, testing the balance of the axe while the other hand loosened the sheet bunched up around his neck.

Vahn'd turn back to see that, Kalis marching back across the boards, onto Swords!' ship again, makeshift cloak flapping around in the way in front of him.

One shot now.

Keep focused, and don't lose your grip.

He wasn't concerned about dropping the borrowed weapon. If he pushed himself too far, he'd lose his focus, and it'd take over. If he didn't... well, he wasn't really doing anything.

The rhythm of his step picked up, crossing deck back toward Vahn.

Time to see just what you can do.

He pushed himself harder, trot turning into a run. His feet slammed across the deck, taking him back toward Vahn again.

Given time to reach about two running steps' distance from Vahn, his left foot would plant, right shoulder coming forward a little with the step.

And then, more than pushing off with that foot, a pocket of force going off out of nowhere hit against the ship, propelling him forward with a sudden burst of speed.

He lauched himself, right arm coming up in a jab with the force of his diving-lunge behind in, for the square center of Vahn's face, left hand with the axe drawn up in a gaurding position around the upper torso.

He didn't care how fast Kalis was propelled at the last instant. "Tsss..."

Seeing him break into a run towards his direction was all he needed. His right hand flung in an arc, blood flinging in a tight span, even as his right leg swept outwards--- the greave catching the blood, causing the surface to sizzle and suddenly light up.

He raised up on the ball of his planted foot while he kicked, mainly to allow for greater pivoting/turning speed, following through with his hips where the greater force was generated, even as he kept that right leg loose.

Each blood red 'vein' on the boot seemed to respond to the tainted blood, even as the searing heat that accompanied the greave eliminated all friction from his movement.

The Thai roundhouse was arguably the strongest kick in all of martial artdom. Add to that the known fact that a kick can inflict more damage than any other strike that can be thrown, and you have a monster on your hands. Especially at the speeds it was being generated--- which was already fast with a normal user.

Using the combined momentum of the snap and the speed of the right leg to offer a faster and more powerful kick (albeit at the cost of control, in the opinion of some), Vahn would be targeting the high area of Kalis, namely the spot he left himself open in; his head. Because the kick is executed with so much speed and power, a missed kick requires the kicker to continue spinning a full 360 degrees back to their starting position.

Kalis was coming in fast, lunging with a jab, while Vahn was reaching out with a lead thai roundhouse, not moving a single step and letting the man come to him. Due to how Kalis had moved, specifically leading in with his shoulder, he was telegraphing his lunge way before it happened, speed boost or not. Ears, eyes, nose, every single one of his pores.... all five senses were focused on his opponent. This was a case of the longest weapon striking within reach, which meant that Vahn's shin would reach Kalis' face before his jab even had a chance to hit, most liekly either dropping the guy right there or sending him flying to the side.

Kalis' boost only ensured a harsher impact.

Add in the fact that thai roundhouses were known to cause KO's... and... well, it's certainly better than a gangbang.

The fight between Vahn and Kalis had already started, but as the former booted the latter in the head, Shouyin went through the experience of being forcefully heaved back up onto the boat.

His head was only really starting to feel all that blunt force trauma as he was being lifted into the air by his teammate, and he didn't even recognize the heat that entered his right wrist, despite old phantom pains from the lost limb reacting to the new sensation.

As it was, the only thing the half-golem understood was that he'd won, and that was enough for him to ck a grin at the ninjaman, ****** -proud- of what he'd just pulled through. He had no idea of the thoughts going on in the other guy's head, but even if he did that smile wouldn't have changed. It wasn't like he really knew Vahn, but right there, that'd been his moment to shine, and even with the other guy acting all gruff about Shou fighting whom many had thought would be his opponent, the half-golem's spirit could not fail.

Coming too once more, the man crawled his way towards a steel crate, pushing his back up against it so he could sit and watch the fight with half-lidded eyes. Odds were some medical folk would come after him soon enough, he had just blown the Hell out of his back, but for now he could simply lay there, looking at ol' Kasuga in action, remembering the good times that'd gone by so long ago.

He passed out, left hand stuck in a lame sort of thumbs up, for his friend.

-3-

In a way, Vahn was quite right. Kalis had never learned, or practiced to mention, martial arts. His fancy tricks were far below sub-par for a Gaian combatant, and he didn't feel the compulsive need to name everything he did.

His err was in taking that deduction one step too far.

The partial mid-air barrel roll finished on the ground would make anyone ache, but Kalis wasn't broken, nor built as scrawny as most of said Gaian martial artists. He was sturdy, but not heavy, and even if he wasn't a tank like Athan, it'd take more beating than that to break him. And right at this moment, it'd take more than breaking him to stop him.

"-sh-"

The red eyes went wide as the knee came in at... some part of his body, from a guy who was in the air, either upside down or horizontal, or just jumping really high...

The arms were up one in front of his slightly turned body, about jaw level, and the other just below jaw level back along the side his torso was turned to, right arm forward, in a cheap immitation of a basic unarmed guard. It still gave him good enough positioning to snap them toward threats he could see coming very quickly though, even if he didn't actually know what he was doing.

Kalis' left leg went backward to widen the stance for balance, leaning his torso forward, he slammed the armored forearm into Vahn's knee hard, pushing in with his body weight- and if the man was in any semblance of being upright, that'd be bringing his right leg closer to Kalis right side- where a jab was coming in to meed the upper.

A jab ending with an axehead, sinking into the meat of the thigh before the contact knocked them away from each other again, Kalis stumbling away to get a bit of distance in, and however Vahn was going to recover from having his leg go from coming forward from his body to his upper body coming forward while the other got carved up.

Tch- there you go. Now push it-

It didn't look like there was anything wrong with his prime method afterall. So, it was time to step it up a notch.

"Heh,"

Kalis tossed the axe up to catch lower on the haft, slamming the bloody blade into the deck again. And he stepped forward, ignoring the axe now that he was done playing around.

He grasped the base of the sword hilt sticking up over his right shoulder tight, pulling the blade rapidly up and out of the sheath, knocking the already loose and hanging sheet off him. Kalis kept his eyes on his opposition as he turned the blade forward, angling the sword up his body and past his left shoulder, held in the right hand just above the right side of the hip, forward from his body about half a foot.

And so, regardless of what Vahn was doing that moment, Kalis was going to advance, 4 foot blade extending past one hand, the other kept free near the sword's base, with violence in his eyes.

[Striker - Offensive]

Fixated on Vahn's muscular legs, the cameras would see the black blur only as background noise, maybe a glitch in the system, until it slammed into that airborne warrior.

Constantly edging about as the two fought, pretending to be so enthusiastic about the fight she couldn't sit still, Owle had always taken care to keep Vahn between herself and the edge of the ship. The two had begun fighting immediately after hauling Shouyin back onto the barge, so they were still treacherously near the edge.

She had been waiting for the opportune moment - the time when Vahn would be off guard, or even just the slightest bit off balance. When his feet left the deck of the barge entirely at the start of his backflip, the feline knew her moment had come.

She flew, crouching and leaping, back paws clearing the deck even as Vahn lashed out with his kick. She would meet him in the air, at the moment he was fully upside down, wrapping her front legs around him in a possessive, furry hug.

Whether or not he lashed out at her, even if he burned her, her momentum and weight would carry them both over the edge of the boat, into the waters below. Upside-down in mid-air, caught in the middle of showing off, there would be little the yellow eyed devil could do to stop the descent Owle had forced him into.

Well.

Talk about your cheapshot from hell.

Apparently Kalis wasn't a big enough boy to look out for himself--- especially after the bloody spectacle that was Shouyin vs Athan--- one had to wonder; Why Vahn?

Why?

Owle, out of spite-- her way of getting back at him?

Maybe Owle, seeing how much Kalis sucked at this whole 'hand to hand' thing, decided to bail the kid out.

Maybe it was just to 'help' out a friend and do her part as team mate.

Maybe.

At any rate, as Vahn was in the middle of initiating the 'kicking moon' technique, found commonly in Tricking, he would be slammed into. At this point, his back was facing Kalis, both feet up in the air and kept loose, as the right one prepared to be struck against Kalis--- and Vahn's head was facing the direction of the amazingly ambigious 'closest edge'.

So while Vahn may not have been able to see who or what the ****** just decided to ram the st out of him, he did see that 'edge' coming up.

And it wasn't exactly a good thing.

'Cause you know, it shouldn't have been happenin'.

Oshi---!

So as he travelled along, his body was still in that upside down position, whoever had tackled him was secure against his torso--- and his arms were out---- ...arms... out....

Without even time to spare, the sleeve on the right side of his arm was tearing away, leather heating up even as sparks began to fly in every which direction, accompanied by the inhumanly long screeching protest of metal, which sounded worse than nails on chalkboard.

As that edge came and Vahn was fated to go over--- his view would go topsy turvy as gravity finally took hold and his body began to right itself---- even as he gave a guttural yell.

The strain on his right arm was tremendous, considering the extra weight he had to support at the crucial pivot. His entire right hand was dug into the side of the ship's 'edge', talons creating their own purchase through heat and sheer force.

He was now horizontal to the side of the barge, hanging there, and apparently supporting more than his share of weight, if the big kitty maintained it's grip enough during that pivot to remain latched, as to avoid hitting the drink as well.

Both legs would be braced against said side, the soles warping the outside metal enough to allow for 'softened' indentations so he could better keep himself there, without relying 100% on the strength of his right arm.

It had been a close call, to be sure--- but thankfully, the transformation of the bracelet on his right wrist had given him the edge and 'tools' needed to save himself. His entire right forearm was sheathed in that artifact, his blood pumping a mile a minute from the adrelaline rush.

So now--- as Kalis, the moron, came following and peered over the 'edge' to see what happened--- Vahn's left arm would shoot upwards, hand open to simply grip the man's face, element of surprise and the speed of a jab supplying this motion, and each finger would squeeze tightly, as Vahn's hips and lower back worked enough to ensure the thrust would go through, and pull the man down and off the deck.

"Your a fish out of water. Go back to swimming!"

He would be saying it even as Kalis was forcibly yanked downward and to the water.

Quote: Hand of Efreet(Right forearm)

This gauntlet uses the elemental power of fire to strike down enemies with flaming retribution. Although extremely powerful, the Hand requires that Vahn fuel it's power with his own blood.

An ashy black object, matching the look of the fang, as well as the greaves. It looked like a tube of sorts covered from one end to the other with small runic etchings in a dark crimson color, sort of like blood engraved into the metal of the object. Near the center of the object toward its top half was an orb of sorts, it was a dark red.

When wielded by an unworthy wielder, that person will lose their arm. Forms a symbiotic relationship with host, whom can hear the 'Flame'. The gauntlet can appear as an ornate looking bracelet, when wielded it expands across the forearm of the wielder, shredding clothes, covering the flesh like armour. The armour seems subjective as to the level of threat. Faced against mortals, it will usually generate less armour than when faced against a demon of hell.

Omen:

When you wear the Hand of Efreet, the runes sketched upon it would glow a brilliant red, as would the orb itself. A series of sharp pains would rip into the arm, as if a thousand burning needles were poking into the forearm at the exact same moment. The hand would then pulse, like a second heart beating deep within the forearm. With each pulse of this firey heart, the flames within the orb swirled seemingly forming a fire storm within itself.

Slumber

The only method of putting the otherwise chaotic power of the Hand, to rest. The item undergoes a transformation into an item of lesser value, thus "resting" until it is needed. It takes the form of a bracelet, with a single red orb in it's center.

As Owle laughed, Gramps just gave her an indignant stare. You know the one. The kind of 'what the hell is so funny?' looks that old people with beards were so good at pulling off. Especially Gramps, in this case.

"You're that Owle girl, huh?"

He crossed his arms in front of his chest, watching her carefully. Mages were one thing, telepaths were something else entirely. He used to tell Athan, afterall, that he couldn't trust mind readers further than they could kick them. Because if they threw them that was going to be a lot of trust. Kicking, not so much.

"Don't know what that boy sees in you. He keeps tellin' me that you're nice and all, but here you are, going and savin' an old fart like me when the kid obviously needs some mental stability."

There was just something about old people that made them impossible to please. Gramps was no different.

"Let me guess, he got himself beat up? Wonderful. You have any idea what I go through in order to keep that boy positive about his role in life?"

---

As Athan came to, a good two hundred yards away from the battleground, he didn't see the face of a caring doctor over him. He saw Shouyin bearing down on him, and as a reflex, his right arm came up to grab the poor man by the face and squeeze.

Wait...

KILL HIM.

Athan visibly winced. The booming voice inside of his head was nothing short of a migraine. Nurses were already running to him, attempting to pry his hand off the physician's face.

No. It's not...

NOT WHAT?

Not right.

WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?

A fighter.

YOU'RE A MURDERER

I'm a warrior.

YOU'RE A BUTCHER

You're wrong.

WHO DO YOU THINK IS CONTROLLING THAT HAND?

His fingers tightened their grip, threatening to crush the doctor's skull despite the people pulling on his arm. Then, as if by a miracle, they relaxed and the doctor was pulled away almost immediately. Two men in white coats descended upon him, one holding him down while the other administered a larger-than-average dose of sedative.

Yet Athan's arm didn't go down, and his eyes didn't close.

Who are you?

YOU SHOULD ASK YOURSELF THE SAME QUESTION

Are you...me?

YOU'RE BROKEN

Should I know you?

YOU'RE LOST

Are you part of me?

YOU'RE ALONE

Are you a hallucination brought on by all this blood loss?

YOU'RE DEAD

No...

TELL ME, WHAT CAN YOU DO RIGHT NOW TO DISPROVE THAT?

I can...

HMM?

Carry On.

The drugs finally took effect as his hand dropped, leaving Athan out cold.

Owle felt herself falling forwards as Vahn's body began to right itself, and panicked. There was no way she could hold on like this; already she could feel her paws slipping down towards his legs. She could unsheathe her claws, but she didn't want to hurt him...just give him a kind of unasked for bath.

Already black, the cat's form suddenly became liquid and gleaming, twisting and changing in the half second Vahn fell. In the place of cat paws, a familiar pair of arms were wrapped around his waist, hands clasped tightly on. Owle's now (meta)human legs scrambled for purchase, entwining themselves around Vahn's neck and clinging tight.

So instead of the cocky comment, what came out of Vahn's throat would sound more like,

"Errkafrrrk urga gaagga. Erg a ckt frmmng!"

She didn't mean to choke him, but she had no choice if she wanted to hang on to the man. After coming this far, she wanted to win. Especially after her promise to Trei, and the unspoken promise that she would not let her teammates down.

They had come this far, and she would help them go a little farther. They deserved that much.

From somewhere above her, there was a sound like that of a heavy boot smashing into someone's face. Out of Owle's sight and knowledge, Kalis raised his sword...

Hanging upside down, clinging to a Vahn like some kind of crazy bat while the blood rushed to her head, Owle would do two things simultaneously even as the strike came down on Vahn's shoulder, dangerously close to cutting Owle's leg.

Behind her, her tiny wings would begin flapping as hard as she'd ever flapped them before. She was trying to fly backwards...pulling herself and Vahn away from the barge. The pull would be moderate, but combined with the force of Kalis's attack, maybe it would be helpful.

In front of her, a five foot long wooden staff would suddenly shoot out from her calves, through her jeans. With her legs around Vahn's neck, her calves pressed up against the side of the barge, Owle was trying to force a five foot long object into a space where an inch long one wouldn't fit.

The side of the barge was too strong to yield to mere wood, and Owle's armored scales were stronger than the stave. So the only thing the staff could do was force the two apart, pushing Owle's legs five feet away from the side of the craft.

Since Owle's legs were around Vahn's neck, the motion would attempt to force Vahn's throat four and a half feet away from the side of the craft. Hard.

And, since apparently the explosion happened before Owle could do what she'd been planning, it was safe to say she had a second or two left on her striker. She was starting to feel really light-headed, and sadly Vahn would be feeling the same from lack of air just about now. Considering the death grip her legs had around his neck, muscles straining just to hang on.

Explosions no longer bothered her. You don't have a half-dragon for a brother and a half-demon for a sister without becoming accustomed to that sort of thing.

So when they exploded off the side, Owle motored her tiny little wings, flying down. She might not be that strong, but Vahn had nothing against which to brace and resist her, and gravity was pulling him in that direction anyway. She just sped things up a little.

All things considered, her time was running out. In her last two seconds as a striker she would release him...leaving a parting gift behind.

As her legs released his neck, some part of her leg would brush against his right bicep. Didn't matter which part, didn't matter how fast it happened. Owle knew intimately the feel of Vahn's body...and on someone as muscular as he, the bicep wouldn't be hard to distinguish by touch alone.

Out of that part of her leg, into his muscle, the mythril knife would come, and stay.

Still yanking that chain?

Falling away from Vahn, Owle would shift into that little ball of scales and cannonball towards the water. A splash assured she was out of the ring, not interfering with the fight, as per the rules of a striker.

((Couldn't have taken more than three seconds to get to the edge, with Vahn and Owle hanging over it. After that, with the facekick, and the explosion, I figure it was probably no more than five seconds. And then came the last two.

I realize that I'm pushing it here, but by my reckoning I'm not outside the time limit.))

Eventually, Shouyin was pulled away from the fight at hand, laid out on a bed in some sort of makeshift medical office that the massive ships would assumedly have somewhere. They'd dosed him up with something to numb the pain, so he was pretty loopy when he came to once more, staring at a small television that was playing the fight on deck. Unknown to the fighter, it had been placed there by a rather cute nurse who figured he'd want to see how his comrade was doing.

With a slight groan, he tried to ease himself up into a sitting position on the bed, finding he had to use his right arm primarily; all his other upper body muscles were shot. Amidst the rumble of the explosion Vahn dished out and a grumble of consternation from one of the attendants, Shouyin swore he heard the doctor mention hooking his back up to something, or maybe cutting him open to like, re-tie his trapezius? Whatever it was, it made the half-golem anxious, and he found it difficult to concentrate on the fight, exceedingly nonsensical as it was.

All that effort, and now he had to lie in a damn hospital bed-- only to watch -that-?

"God, is this some sort of joke?" the last cohesive sentence he'd form for an hour or two.

((Vahn, if you have OOC questions, please state them OOC, don't narrate them into your IC post.

To clarify...Owle is clinging to Vahn's back, her front to his back (Not back to back; to be back to back she would have had to turn around while she was jumping at your back to tackle you off the ship. Which she didn't.) Her legs are hooked around his neck...all things considered, I figured she'd be putting a lot of pressure on the front of his throat. I see that I'm wrong about that being enough to cut off air, though. My bad.

You didn't mention any shrapnel hitting Vahn in your post. You didn't mention any shrapnel at all. I assumed that, even if there was shrapnel you failed to mention, if none hit Vahn, considering Owle is behind him, clinging to him, none would hit her.

Because Vahn is in directly in front of her when the explosion went off, and she's considerably smaller than him, whatever shrapnel and such would only hit the bits of her that were in front of him, her calves and forearms. Her calves are armored, but her forearms probably got burnt and cut into a bit. Not enough to keep her from holding on a few more seconds, though.

Seeing as how her front is to his back, her wings are free. Tiny as they are, you can imagine they already ignore the laws of physics to even get her airborne. Since I didn't list any magical properties of them on my bio, though, I can't really object to you logicking that away.

Finally, if you somehow managed to pull yourself all the way onto the barge with a dagger stuck in your bicep, your right arm should be more than sore. You'd have torn the muscle even further open, given yourself a nice big hole in your arm, and made it more or less unusable for the rest of the fight. Just making sure that's clear.))