Streets of Durem

There he stood, a bunch of tiny bandages freckling his face like he'd cut himself real bad shaving, all ripped shirt and bandana and cigarette, despite the "No Smoking" sign overhead.

There he stood, that breeze stirring up thoughts of cool old springtime mornings, the spectral sound of whorling leaves singing ancient dirges to the wind, but the battle had yet to begin.

There he stood, leaning against some condemned brick building as dust or snow whispered against its chalky sides, with a head full of monsters howling to get out, and waited to get on with it.

Dusk paced from the doorway of where they had been instructed to stay, a rather drowsy mask fallen about his features, although two days straight of sleep is often prone to do that to one. Fingertips massaged at his temples with a concentration that could only be to a man who hadn't the slightest care or attention in the world that took much precedence at the moment, although the thoughts of a fight, or something like that, still lingered.

"...We won?" The words barely escaped as auburn eyes forced themselves open into direct sunlight, his tone tinged less with its normal apathy and more so with, well, barely anything. The words were jumbled and lacking attention.

He stepped forwards momentarily, practically bumping someone barely against the shoulder as he walked past towards the edge of the sidewalk and peered towards the roadway, that battleworn frame posing a rather interesting sight as he leaned over with an almost childlike intrigue, all the while two menacing dual blades extended beyond either shoulder.

"Mmm...this it?"

Red,yellow,green.

The Traffic light was still on even though the traffic had been stopped for the fight that would soon take place. The crowd around them was cheering as usual, showing their love in more ways then others would, but still non the less showing it. And Minute, Lu-bu's alternante, was right in the middle of it all, hanging from the traffic light,her head following the lights as they changed, with her handy dandy super glasses to keep herself from going blind from bright neon lights. Hair tied up in a pony-tail to keep it out of her face, the ninja shirt she'd left the hotel still on, a bright neon green sweater over it, ripped jeans and thick black skater shoes.

"So, those are our next team? They look koul."

If her face could twist into such a thing you'd most likely see something like that > before she'd dropp to her feet and head toward her teammate, stuffing her hands into her pockets keeping that bounce to her step.

"It'll be exciting!"

The sound of choppers resonated through the air above, penetrating the sounds of the thickening crowds of people who began to congregate in massive swarms around the Roped off combat area. Pure chaos errupted, and not even the GPD could calm the legions of gaians making there way to get a good fiew of the next fight. Though all these sounds coupled with the sounds of everday street events would be overcome by the band.

Say the word

and Ill summon the band

With my hand.

The people made way for the band who's music thundered around the entire city. They would play a loud and proud song as they marched, parting the crowds like the divine parting the sea; In order to take there position near the fighting arena. Second liners behind them danced with unbrella's and fine suits, though there was no mourning within there souls. The name of the song played was "Morris Brown"

Ridin in the cadillac

Beatin Like some ear drums

The game done changed Out

Kast came to heat it up.

In the middle of the band, a black cadillac with the top dropped would swerve in rythm with the movement of the marching band; all to the rythm of the music. In the drives seat, Sieg ecstuffuach would swerve to his head to the rythm, all in perfect sync. Sieg didnt mean to have come in this way, though he was simply met with the marching band during his drive to the scene.

He guessed he may as well have enjoyed it.

Sieg would stop when the marching band would stop, suddenly they would stop playing with the silence becoming as explosive as the music that they had been producing. The crowd would begin to clap and cheer, simoutaniously Sieg would park his cadillac right there and exit the vehicle and begin to walk towards the barricades of the fighting arena.

"Lets get this s**t on the road", he would say to himself as he walked towards the area. He would take off his glasses with his right hand and throw them back into the crowds behind him, they would flock to catch the expensive pair of shades. A wide smirk riddled his ebony visage as his desert yellow eyes looked towards his team mates as he stepped into the designated area.

<<

Sorry guys.

Got into a car accident today.

Not cool.

Upsides and downsides for you guys.

Upside=I'll be here for 2 weeeks

Downside=Weekdays (possibly weekends) I get off at 9

Whcih is in 15 minutes.

So I s'pose I can try and do a quick post.

xO

>

(( Is there any exact order Team Lu Bu would like to go in? As far as my team mates are concerned, we're ready and willing when your side is. If Kichiro is fighting this round, I believe Dusk would like to fight against him, since they're both swordsmen that use two blades.

Aside from that, I don't think there are any more preferences, aside from realism or partial realism for the stipulations. ))

(( Alright, I'm sure Lone has no problem facing you. Then I suppose it'll be Dusk against Sieg and your last member against myself? ))

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X5yiABJLdKM

RIDE

Peppa would stand up, acknowledging that it was his turn to begin the match. Automatically pumped up, the Jedi would walk towards the center of the intersection. Simply one thing would be on his mind which would be the most metal band that had dawned the universe.

RIDE

Snickering to himself, he would simply cough to himself before raising a finger.

I believe I should be fighting a 'ckzu'.

Peppa pronounced somethign horribley, this was a good example. He had tried, it's just his FIGHTER didn't help give pronounciations. It simply said names and dates. It was designed to be entirely fair for the fight and that was what it had done.

Stretching, he would simply give a patient waiting to the opposing team.

Xiu rolled his shoulders, his back following suit, which in turn caused his body to push off against the post he had been inclined against in synch with the movements of what could only be his opponent, the man's towering frame making its way into the center of the crossroads. Beneath the demonic countenance of his Rui Shi mask, Rui Xiu's gaze would travel up and down the man's visage, taking in his form's subtle movements and mannerisms while formulating a rudimentary series of scenarios with which he could begin the fight and manipulate the course of events into his favor.

Xiu's arms fell to his sides, the nature of his movements having shifted from that of an adept acrobat to a shiftless vagrant, striding languorously towards the crowd's current focal point. Rui Xiu's arms swayed to and fro with each step he took until he came to a stop, estimating that there was roughly between eight and ten feet between the two combatants.

The corner of Xiu's lips curled upwards in an unseen yet amicable grin as he shifted his right foot behind him, his heel suspended off of the ground minutely, knee bent enough to allow him a comfortable range of movement while his left foot moved into the lead position, the formation of his feet and knee similar to that of his rear foot with the exception of the positioning of his toes. Those of the right foot were pointed at a forty-five degree angle away from his victim while his left were pointing directly towards him. Xiu lifted his arms so that they were stretched out before him, yet not fully extended, his wrists hanging limply in the air.

(1)

Xiu watched the man's transition, his piercing gaze perusing him as he resituated himself into a sidelong stance, the man's profile before Rui Xiu. The stance itself was something Xiu found sloppy, especially when it came to the positioning of his feet. Dichotomizing his lips, Xiu inhaled deeply before rolling his weight forward at the exact moment that his adversary's shoulders began to rise, a cylindrical object held in his right hand

Rui Xiu's own choice of footing kept in mind the lesson he had been taught since the days of his youth, "If one's heels hug the earth, they'll move like a cow". This colloquialism rang true, as Xiu had met many opponents who favored what they felt as a "strong base" when, in actuality, they left themselves open to be thoroughly assaulted.

The directional shift of Xiu's weight gave him the necessary catalyst to move forward at an expedient rate, the toes of his lead (left) foot skimming along the asphalt as Xiu traversed the distance between the two men with mercurial speeds, moving at an angle so that he would cross the gap betwixt the two while the man's arm would finish rising, extended outwards at the spot he had previously occupied.

The extent of the burst of speed left Xiu's form to the outside of his foe's right side, the man's body within arms reach. Taking advantage of the confusion that would follow his apparent disappearance, Xiu would forcefully raise his left arm, which was closest to the man's right, and slam the back of his wrist against the man's own wrist. The nature of the blow was to be quick and shocking and if it succeeded, Rui Xiu would follow it by having the side of his hand brush against the man's wrist as he turned his arm so that his palm would ascend the short distance in a second strike against the man's wrist as he felt a slight pressure, as if he doubted his own actions yet ignored the force he felt, not hesitating in his movements.

(2)

(( The above move performed by Peppa is, basically, impossible. By being to the outside of his right side and have my left arm be the closest to him, I'd have to be standing at an angle, which would follow suit since I moved forward at an angle to do so. Now, in his earlier post, he stated that he had his lightsabre pointed towards my heart, which would mean his arm is held outwards and I am going to assume it is fully extended since I stated so earlier and he did not say otherwise. Continuing, it'd be impossible for his move to work, especially when he is simply rotating his hand with his arm still extended. In order for the energy blade to come close to me in a move like that, he'd have to alter his grip on the blade as well as most likely trimming the flesh of his forearm, none of which he did in his post. This is my reasoning before I get on with my post. ))

The affable smile remained upon Xiu's lips as he witnessed the fruitless rotation of his opponent's wrist in an attempt to cause harm upon him, although the effulgent blade did cause Xiu to falter in his train of thoughts, contemplating where the man had come across such a weapon. Things in this realm had gone from the relatively obscure to the completely ridiculous in terms of weaponry and technology. Perhaps Xiu would familiarize himself with such things once this tournament was over.

The back of Xiu's wrist struck in the midst of the hand's revolution with enough force to hopefully dislodge the luminous weapon from the man's hand for the time being. Exhaling sharply through flared nostrils, Xiu felt a slight increase in heat within the mask as his arm began to rotate, his palm poised to press up against the supple flesh of his opponent's wrist, where the veins were located.

Catching movement peripherally, Xiu shifted his hips (his feet moving in conjunction) so that they followed in his hand's stead, the back of his head coming to rest between the larger man's shoulder blades as his adversary's left hand flew out in a backwards motion, fingers spread and the glinting metal of the gauntlet he wore passing before him. If he had not moved, those metallic fingertips may have raked his abdomen and most likely taken a bit of flesh along with strips of cloth.

In this seemingly precarious position, Xiu's arm was stretched to his side, the palm of his hand tearing away from the man's wrist and moving further down his arm as the true nature of his attack had been revealed. The dull iron bands he wore upon each middle finger were known as kakute. Although they seemed to do nothing more than fasten a piece of cloth from his sheer hadagi to the back of his hand, they were in fact rings with two large, serrated barbs that protruded from the band and were meant to surreptitiously cause harm to his opponent before he noticed the severity of a simple palm strike.

The reasoning behind the placement of Xiu's head became apparent as his opponent's impromptu strategy had been set into motion. Beneath the mask, he felt a slight tugging at his hair beneath the cloth that assisted in concealing his countenance, tell-tale signs that his foe was shifting his position in order to mount some final form of defense.

Heat began to radiate from behind him, level with the center of his back (more to his left than the center, really) which was held at a slight angle so that only his head was in contact with his opponent. A thought shot through Xiu's mind as soon as he had felt the emission of heat, "He has another one of these... contraptions. This will, simply, not do."

The broad expanse of the man's back would begin to tug even more upon the back of Xiu's head, signifying that he was moving whilst the man's elbow caused the kakute upon Xiu's left hand to scrape along the surface of the man's arm, rendering flesh asunder as it went.

In order to prevent himself from not only losing the fight, but his life as well, Xiu adroitly used his own right arm to reach behind his form, his elbow bent and pressed against his opponent's own left arm that had been previously sent back in an attempt to strike Xiu. His elbow would act as a form of defense as he took hold of the weapon's hilt and pulled it out from between them, moving synchronously with his opponent to avoid cutting him in half.

As the length of the blade had been removed from betwixt their forms, Xiu's fingers clamped down upon the surface of the man's arm, his hand having travelled up towards the inner portion of his elbow, where the arm bent, the kakute digging into the flesh in a most agonizing fashion. The purpose of holding the man's right arm was so that as Xiu turned, the man's weapon in tow, he would continue with the spin his opponent had initiated; in doing so, he now held the man's right arm aloft in the air with not much chance of moving it lest he injure himself further while his second blade hovered in the air before his abdomen.

For the first time, Xiu spoke to his opponent in the few words he knew of this land's language. "Give up, please."

Sketch for a crime scene:

broken bottles

crushed trash cans

sundered asphalt

smoldering cinders

car alarms

streets painted red

smoking scraps

littered fragments

flesh and bone

The mists had burned off the city, leaving behind only the white sky, brutal and cold. He stood just off from the congregation, in sight of the fight taking place, but his mug faced the sidewalk as if he regarded Xui's opponent or any wanton interlopers as no threat at all...or maybe it was just a blatant show of disrespect. Those tarnished digits of his right hand curled inward like serpents strangulating fresh meat, an audible criiik sounding out as synthetic tendons tightened. These people were already dead, or as close to it as they were ever going to come.

They just didn't know it yet.

Blood balloons....

His power suddenly anchored underfoot, a thin web of cracks ripping out along the sidewalk, dust puffing into the air even as perspiration burst from Kurashu's pores and the air around him warbled with a sharp ignition of heat. Some indiscernable force chipped at the wall behind him. His blood had begun to boil, thin streaks seeping from the mystic sigils upon his back in an abrupt precipitation of horror that froze against flesh mid-crawl, seething through veins like liquid fire as the charred shreds of stability and self-restraints that loosely defined who he was burned away. Whether he or anyone liked it or not, the time drew closer and the transformation was already underway, that metamorphosis he'd promised to exile, so long ago....

But he and the other were cemented. Till his end, that chain link would remain intact.

A faint, but steady current built up, propelling tufts of dark hair about his countenance. His eyes slowly lifted, dull-yellow orbs illuminated with a spark as he focused on Peppa, and then the hue seemed to dim in those irises as pupils shrank to pinpoints...the color draining from his face as both brows furled and his features faded into the blank expression of a desensitized soldier or a heartless killer. Orange and red sparks danced at the edges of his clenched and shaking fist, jagged lines of fire feeding the conflagration in quick snaps.

At this range...!

It'd be no problem making it look like a giant paper-puncher had had its way with the guy.

His gaze shifted between those present, falling on each like a heavy lead weight. It didn't matter who...

...Pop!

He wanted to destroy something beautiful.

(( New post is up. ))

Kichiro was a fire user, it wasn't going to bother him that something was hot. Not to mention, the Chimagin was strong enough to take a fist from whatever this thing was that decided to come plowing through everything.

Some audience members likely getting hurt as Kurashu crumbled a wall, and broke windows beneath car hoods. Making this direct and centered attack, not so centered afterall.

That wasn't very nice of this man.

Kichiro could see, hear, and practically feel this man coming before he ever got even close. He was turned to face him, left foot dropped back to the side and the right side of his body forward. Yeah, southpaw stance with his hands risen in loose fists for gaurds.

"What's wrong with you?"

Kichiro took this punch in shaolin darts scaled across his chest and hidden by his shirt, not really feeling much of anything as he launched a right jab towards the man's chin.

Flying in like that with so much momentum, would likely carry him straight into a jab from a Chimagin that could take a hit which would some how typically twist and carve a humanoid frame into complex math stuff.

The left hand would be flying in an underhook to the right side of the man's gut, if the jab connected.

1.

4

With his own left arm still held outwards to his own life and his opponent to his right, a grab from behind any form would be a stretch. His right arm would have to travel behind himself, behind Peppa before he could reach the shoulder. Not only that but his left arm was thoruoughly tugged in Peppa's right arms skin.

Quote:

In order to prevent himself from not only losing the fight, but his life as well, Xiu adroitly used his own right arm to reach behind his form, his elbow bent and pressed against his opponent's own left arm that had been previously sent back in an attempt to strike Xiu. His elbow would act as a form of defense as he took hold of the weapon's hilt and pulled it out from between them, moving synchronously with his opponent to avoid cutting him in half.

It was amazing his opponent had enough time to so much as speka while the lightsabre came out at him. Let alone have the time to reach out for a left arm right after speaking.

Yet the biggest amazemant was that he was able to feel the heat entirely. Which means that it would take a maximum of two seconds before the man cut. He was able to realise the instance and reach around all the way to his opponents weapon around it at that, a giant fan beam.

Not to mention his opponent hadn't done anything untill Peppa had turned which would be while the lightsabre would be on.

So as his opponent reached for the weapon, his opponent would fine his arm getting cut off by a three foot wide blade. Followed by his opponents hips for about a inch before Peppa woudl simply stop.

It was absolutely physically impossible to asses a situation, reach behind yourself to Peppa's a, and grab his weapon before the at maximum two seconds it would take for the blade to have penetrated him. Peppa may have ****** up earlier but he hadn't been a idiot and gone and done that.

Also, his opponent would have to be on Peppa's left side to press a right arm elbow against his left elbow.

Now if magically his opponent had grabbed the lightsabre and fixed it upon Peppa's stomach, well we'llt alk about that later.

So in reality, Kichiro never actually felt any semi-truck punch from kindgom flaming come or any such sort.

All he did was accidently hit some guy who...

"WOOOOOOAAAAAHH!!"

And Kichiro got free flying lessons through the air, with his overcoat whipping around him. The Chimagin had the strength and speed to compete with demons in Gaia, but wasn't prepared to some how land on his feet with that much ease.

"I don't imagine you want to talk about this."

Kichiro was prepared to interact at anytime he spoke, in his southpaw stance and bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet. His hands were in loose fists and ready to rock.

All that was now needed was the one two shuffle step into melee range, with Kichiro preparing for whatever strength this thing possessed that was before him.

He'd open up with a probing jab to the man thing's chin, like was going to attempt before. Only, in the intersection without any Judge of Doom suddenly stepping in his way.

2

Standing on a rooftop watching the fight were three figures clad in black. They looked like they could be brothers, all of equal height and hair and eye color; white and red. Their hairstyles varies; one had long straight hair that fell over his shoulders and across his back; another had short hair, spiked up and waved back; the one in the middle had shoulder-length hair, straight with some of it falling across the right side of his face. They all wore a black, tailored jacket, which looked more like a robe buttoned up, fitting snugly to their forms and flowing out freely beyind their waists. They watched the fight intently, away from the crowds gathered on the sidewalks.

5

Right arm bleeding like s**t and my own damn lighstabre fan against my stomach.

Peppa this whole match had been a whole step behind his opponent. Striking forward into the air, slicing into the air. Even reacting totally behind his opponent. When Peppa came to realisation that the lightsabre was close to getting his gut, he simply closed his eyes.

Give up?!

Peppa had trained for this. He found himself growing frustrated at conceiving on how he could have made so many errors. He found himself rather embarassed, ashamed if you will. Yet regardless he would stand there for a moment. The pain in his arm just now taking effect to him. Jedi techniques supressed emotions, even right down to sensatiosn such as pain.

If he wanted, he could make it so the man didn't feel anything.

Last year Peppa had been in a position like this, he had his leg broken by Shouyin. Except he kept fighting. Tho' this time Peppa is weaponless and with his back to his opponent.

What did he chose to do?

Fight on.

A man has certain irrational moments where he doesn't care about much. Arrogance can seep into a man easily. Jedi strive to fight this but when it was the HoH, you were encouraged to do so. Apply jedi techniques which really was just a dissapation of pain neurons. He would yank his arm forward, tearing a good slice of flesh off his right arm.

Blood would shoot everywhere, luckily nothing terribley destructive on his arm.

Yet simuetanously, the lightsabre his opponent was holding would seemingly explode at him. THe energy being unleashed while Peppa simply manipulated the field that contains the plasma beam. Having the absorb/dissapate energy skills which would require to manipulate a lightsabre and having used next to zero power this whole match.

It was safe to say he could do this.

THe plasma would simply shoot out at his opponents arm. Splattering everywhere. It would render the weapon usless as well, de-energized and rather plasma less. Yet the burns could do somethign horrible to his opponents arm.

Peppa had little fear of what his opponent coudl do, he migth attempt to grab a hold of Peppa as he simply pushed himself forward in what seemed to be the most agonizing attempt. How many men would tear arm off their flesh in the middle of the fight.

If this little move worked, Peppa would have simply pushed himself away from his oppoennt before turning around. Using the force to summon the knocked away weapon, it would float to his left arm. His right arm was rather useless right now.

He would than face his opponent straigthforward.

"Why you little."

Kichi' was a silly guy, but he wasn't throwing punches at the air. He gritted his teeth as he watched Clash, as Kichiro knew him, go launching onto the metal greating of a fire escape.

Up the other wall of the building Kichiro ran, grabbing the lid of a trashcan on his way into the alley. The grip of his boots and the momentum of his speed carrying him upwards in a random pattern, looking like something out of Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon with a Yakuza gang member.

On the level above Clash, Kichiro would launch himself to land on the metal greating. All of that speed and momentum carried in the trashcan lid which he projected at the warrior.

At that time, Clash would've landed and began a cool down so the lid of the can was...

More of a distraction so that Kichi' didn't get blasted like a clay pigeon at a shotgun range.

Thud.

Kichiro would land and look to his left out of his peripheral, seeing a window with a potted plant sitting on the outside.

It'd work.

Kichiro ran with the thing down to meet with Clash in some epic battle of... something and potted plant.

Kichi' was a silly guy.

3

The slight pressure that Xiu had felt in various instances during the length of his bout increased exponentially while Xiu noted the suddenly calm demeanor of the man who was nearing his own demise. It is known that each form of martial art has its own ideals when it comes to inner energy, as well as how to manipulate it. Through strenuous training, one can become skilled in not only the use of such power, but in sensitizing themselves to the power of others, noting fluctuations in said "spiritual" energy.

Rui Xiu's sense of foreboding had, unlike in his earlier fight, caused him to feel a frightful "fray" of energy culminate along the length of his left hand, the obscure weapon held within it. Over time, he had come to not only trust his mind and its constant strategies, but as well as his instincts, releasing the weapon as, simultaneously, his right hand had been forcefully removed from its position about his adversary's wrist and the weapon's beam extended along the length of its hilt, the heat which radiated from it burning him yet not evulsing any limbs from his form due to his hasty movements.

A hiss escaped his lips, although the smile never wavered. It would seem that his generosity was getting the best of him and now it was time to rid himself of such an opponent, his gaze setting itself upon the fallen hilt. A smaller sensation rang through out his form as he felt, not saw, an intangible essence extending from his adversary's form. "The weapon," Xiu thought to himself, "He's after it."

The sheer material of his hadagi had been burned off of his arm, the skin flushing from his forearm to his elbow as an insubstantial amount of steam arose from the flesh. As the man's energy had caught the weapon in its grip, Xiu would reveal his own prowess with intangible forces, the steam swirling into a vortice as an identical vortex enveloped the weapon. The concentration needed to hold the weapon in place was nominal as he reached his right arm over his shoulder and releasing his Dao from its sheath, yet remained in place. He wished to see his opponent's reaction as the weapon floated between their forms.

If looks could kill...

The catboy, still looking as grumpy as before, glared at his noisy friend.

How did he deserve that?

And why in all Hell did he let her talk him into coming here with her?

Not to forget... why would he want to watch some fools rip each other apart... when he didn't even know them?

Right now he wished he had just stayed at home, in his nice calm bar... with a drink... nice food... the TV...

A soft sigh escaped his lips.

Yeah yeah I know. You told me.

He IS awesome.

His bored look didn't really fit to his words.

Just some advice: Don't distract him if you want him to win.

Despite of being not very interested in fighting, the catboy still watched the two opponents and secretly seconded Celice's opinion.

Quite awesome these guys...

(( OOC: Awesome. I'm up for some hand to hand. And good luck. =) ))

Dusk blinked yet again with the surprise of his challenger and his proposed taunts, the sudden growing cheers and jeers of people infused throughout the scene around them mingling with the blaring of yet another theme, all of which constituted a crescendo that pushed the annoyance of that austere frame even further. His left hand elevated towards his forehead and met it with a slap that came in concurrence with an exaggerated sigh, the most genuine signs of the most apathetic character.

But such sentiments would be fleeting at best, for the mention of a hand to hand engagement suddenly became all the more intriguing. While he was normally predisposed to letting his dual blades get their fill, the opportunity presented to do combat with a true craftsman and master of his fists subdued such considerations, and hands extended skywards before carefully placing both blades back within their casings at his sides.

Lashes fell down over gleaming auburn, eyes casting themselves into obscurity while concentration would momentarily befall the warrior. He attempted to focus out all which enveloped them, the chants and obnoxiousness of spectators, the sounds of surrounding engagements, the blaring of music which has more than aroused his senses now, although in the process it thoroughly annoyed him. The desire to lash at the sheer absurdity of his opponent was suppressed, instead replaced with something else.

And with that, persona shifted and a certain solace seemed to descend upon that apathy, igniting instead the flames of a heart that beat a devious rhythm which would manifest its anticipation in a grin that graced his features. "Ready when you are." Palms outstretched, not fists, would arise before his frame, elbows clutched inwards slightly as feet shifted into position. He nodded towards his supposed opponent and that foot began tapping yet again, ever so slightly.

It beat harmonies with his heart. One. Two. Three. Four.

As the savvy challenger before him came forwards with a rush upon forming his stance, Dusk would commence his own motions and movements, the methodology behind every maneuver executed with the flawless execution akin to a dance, rendered with the musical precision that heartbeats and feet tapped out together, that rhythm sending pulses along the spine that invigorated the rest of his frame.

Anticipation. Eyes forced open and locked within an instant upon Sieg, those cogent auburn orbs speaking more than whatever words lips could produce. The elevating sounds of the crowd with every opponent of the speedy challenger had to be drowned away into obscurity with faster tapping which yielded quicker heartbeats. What began as a simple "One. Two. Three. Four." morphed itself into a shortened. "One-Two-Three-Four." Each beat pulsed, faster and faster as his opponent closed the gap between them, his own body meanwhile remaining solidified in place, offering no forewarning of what would be his intent.

Commencement. Within the moment of that rush finally closing their relatively small gap, he finally entered into motion. Feet would attempt to anticipate and predict in concurrence with the rest of his agile frame, the melody reaching a fervent pace that calculated every single shift in position down to the most excellent precision. Preparation was always a key upon the field of battle, and Dusk had always considered himself one of its most consistent purveyors.

But preparation was always useless without execution. As the gap was closed, down the within an arm's length from either of them, he quickly motioned himself aside his opponent's right with a slight ducking downwards, Dusk's right foot immediately shooting outwards and somewhat sideways, his own simple attempt at assessing his opponent's cunning. A simple trip was all it amounted to, but one should never doubt the effectiveness of simplicity.

(1)

<<

APologys for the ill post before.

I intended on it being much more spectcular but you see.

My mom is a impatient one and was just like basically breahting on my neck for me to get off.

_<

I hate her alot sometimes.

Anyways, I'll get to posting in a second.

<3

>

(( You never stated turning on the lightsabre, so I'm assuming that, while acting like a saw, it is still off. If I am mistaken, let me know. ))

The ethereal strain that Xiu felt against the vortice he had created was something that, for a moment, had caused him to re-evaluate the situation thusly; Obviously, the man had some sort of connection to his weapons, even though he had destroyed one of them. It would only follow that the man must have something housed within each that gave him such control over it, something akin to his Dao yet Xiu's emotions towards his weapon were less than "enlightened spiritually".

For a brief moment, the shaft of the weapon's handle jerked towards Xiu's ready form, as if an invisible hand had suddenly let it loose in a manner reminiscent of one throwing a discus. Its sudden (and strengthened)momentum forward, though, was immediately halted by the vortice's ineffable might. Its incessant whirling increased in speed, although the weapon had remained where it was.

Xiu noted all of this as he had shot towards the man with the same speed he had displayed earlier, moving with such celerity that his movements may obfuscate the eyes of those who were not accustomed to such alacritous assailants.

Once more, Xiu moved to the man's now useless right arm as his own right came down at an angle from his shoulder just as he had entered the range with which he could strike the man's form yet stay clear of the man's legs if he intended to use them in order to prevent the slash from connecting.

The sole reason Xiu struck at this distance as opposed to getting nearer to the man and putting him out of his misery was to show his foe he had no ill-will towards his opponent, illustrating it even more in the fact that merely the tip of his Dao would trace along the surface of the man's chest, cleanly cutting along the skin's surface so that he knew it would have been fatal had Xiu not held back. Much like Jader, whom he had once nearly killed, Xiu felt that the man he had injured so grievously was not what he would consider a suitable victim for his blade that hungered for injustice.

With the lack of impact upon Siegs knee which would have caused him to throw the left to the inside of the left thigh, Sieg would not throw that kick because there was never any hit against his rised leg to prompt him to release the attack. Sieg had never seen someone cancel a low round house before, and he knew then that this fight would be interesting.

Instead of throwing the kick Sieg would simply place his leg down forward and slide his rear leg forward in order to close the distance between him and the opponent and put them at close hand to hand range. The opponent would never have to block the kick if it was not thrown, so the opponent would probrably try to move around to Siegs back as he intended after the block.

If this was the case, Sieg wouldnt allow the opponent to simply move around to his back. Sieg would always be moving to stay in front of the opponent but even before this Sieg would be attempting to land a left shovel hook sense the best course of action to get to Siegs back in the event that he did throw a left kick would be to move to his left or opponents right.

(If not then he will throw a shovel hook in the direction opposite of your movement. With either the right or left, with the other arm at guard. Sorry for this option stuff, you just didnt say what direction your moving in...All I know is that you started that movement with your left foot.)

This blow would land at the arch of the sternum, sending a shock directly to the heart. Sieg would perform this with perfect technique, though in order to keep the post short - ask if you need the details of the technique.

((I tried pming this to you but your not replying so (this isnt an argument, just clarification people...nothing to worry about):

Now if I threw a left kick, and you kept going to the right...you would just keep staying in front of me but as you said, that is no longer the case, lol.

Now the clarification of the left and right, Sense your moving to my right...your left, Im going to throw a right Shovel hook, which moves at an upward angle to the left the opposite of your movement direction. This means, your body is moving into the punch.

Shovel Hook

The shovel hook is one of the most powerful body shot punch's, because it combines the body mechanics of the hook and the uppercut. The attack can be performed by both hands but is usually done with the lead arm. It is basicly an hook that comes in a diagnol curve at an upwards angle, allowing one to add power by pumping the legs and tensing the shoulder as they would do in an uppercut.

The Punch is thrown in this way from an orthodox fighter. The fighter would bend there knees while moving there left arm down in a scooping like dip pointing the fist at an upwards angle(45 to 55 degrees) to the right with there arm in an 'L' position. Smoothly coming out of the scoop one should unbend there knees while making a clockwise pivot with the waist and on the balls of there lead foot, while simoutaniosuly pushing up with the shoulder and thrusting the fist into the target point. Only until the punch comes up in its circular motion does the body become tense. The elbow is kept close to the body until the punch is delivered so that the arm can drive into the opponents body.))

... too see dirt flying at his eyes followed by a potted spider plant.

Kichiro was known for his prowess with weapons, and uh... gardening apparently. The Chimagin's eye's went wide with the sight of the crowbar, and that oh-s**t moment flew through his mind like an alarm.

Uh...

Kichiro's first instinct had his right hand crossing down and withdrawing his coldsteel wakazashi, boots sliding against greating as he stopped himself. The blade sparked against the metal on the side of the railing, with the extra bite of liquid silver cutting the fire escape like a hot knife through butter. It came up in his right hand in a reverse grip, up at an angle to block that crowbar with the blunt side against his forearm.

Left foot slid back as an anchor.

A fire escape wasn't best for swinging blades around, especially not the ones that Kichiro used. His left hand moved beneath the overcoat, fingers twitching.

4

"I like it..."

Kichiro turned to face him, just in time to be slammed back by the crowbar into his wakazashi.

Umph.

Kichiro grunted and looked back at Clash before closing his eyes and holding his breath, being a bit rattled as he was slammed back.

Though...

The liquid silver substance running along the channel of his blade attaching itself to the crow-bar. As his back hit the wall of the building with a loud thud, as the katana sheath took the brunt of the blow behind him.

So much cutting and force thrust against the fire escape, that the rust holding it up began to give out. Fire escapes were not meant for epic clashes.

As Kichiro was slammed back, his left hand released a smoke grenade into the incoming man's chest. It'd poof with smoke and leave his oppenant with something in the lungs and eyes for sure, along with a little concussive force from the grenade being thrown at his incoming body and all its momentum.

Creeeeeeeek!

Kichiro's left boot slammed against the fire escape, making it give out on his side first. He'd dissapear down onto a dumpster, while taking his launching his left hand to grab Clash's nuts as he went down. In the smoke, it'd be hard to see and likely cause the man a bit of pain.

Along with all the smoke, and dirt he'd had thrown at him lately.

Kichiro would release as his side of the fire escape hit the dumpster in a twisted mess, and he'd keep his wakazashi facing that crowbar as he backed off the twisted metal onto the lid of the dumpster.

5

7

Bounce back, Peppa would be a blur just as his opponent was. It was a technique through the force called 'Master speed', well simply that 'cause it'd be quoted in words like "He has attained the speed of a master". Nonetheless, the jedi too would be a blur as he too moved around. He could fully percieve what his opponent was doing and thus was unhindered by the blurs of his opponents moves.

So when his opponent seemingly appeared to his right, striking at downwards with a dao, Peppa would be dashing to his opponents left. His left arm coming at his opponents neck while he moved to his opponents left side, the only real exception to being entirley left was his own left foot which would come behind Xius left leg. He would stand completely to the side of his opponent with his left arm outwards to the neck. The hooked ends of his fingers would pose a serious threat to his opponent Xiu.

At the same time of these events, the lightsabre would turn on while coming back to Peppa. His opponent being between the two you could imagine that there would be some sort of strike to happen. The blade coming in like a saw to clip his opponents right arm which was still in the process of striking, or at the end of the attack. In other words it was in the air or the arm would be pointed downwards.

The sabre would amputate the arm while spining completely vertically before spinning aroudn into Peppa's open right hand which was being placed behind Peppa's back.

The move was to match his opponents speed. To come in exactly while he was vulnerable and striking. The reason for being exactly to the side of his opponent was to completely dodge the weapons range, for his opponent would have to end the swing and than perform a sideways thrust whcih would take far more time than he had.

In danger of the upswing hitting himself? Any attempt to do so would be all too clumsy. Pushing the weapons weight upwards hard enough to do that while thinking you were going to do a downwards slash was ridiculous in thought.

If his opponent wanted to play with BS mechanics which always allowed you to be faster, Peppa could figth back too. The extent of rp was that everyone was at a equal. THis was more than equal. Hell, Peppa had less of a distance to dash into than his opponent.

(( The push of your fist with my hand actually wasn't directly upwards, but merely in the direction that your fist traveled to begin with, which I assumed was "slightly upwards" and so would naturally be directed that way. But we'll roll with it and keep goin'. ))

While fluidity and fluency of maneuvering the body in conjunction with the mind may be fundamental tenets of one style, there are certainly equal numbers which hold to the same creed, and it would be by those tactics that his frame commenced, simplicity still remaining his key influence. For as his opponent motioned his arm along an arc that placed it in its former position, Dusk's methodology would alter from his prior course, the fist that would have charged forwards before not even commencing the motion as there was no longer any left arm for it to slide up along towards a jawline that itself was no longer exposed.

Rather, the left pulled back immediately towards where it held steadfast at the beginning of their entire engagement, juxtaposed with the right before his upper body that restored itself from its leaning position.

The choice now became that of an opponent who would also no doubt end up altering his own choices, although Dusk worked in such a manner as to render those sort of choices needless to begin with. For before the contact between Sieg's change to circling arm and Dusk's pulling his hand back had ended, Dusk elevated his left foot and turned it inwards, striking the edge out forcefully for the right shin of his challenger to effectively keep that right leg grounded before it would even have an opportunity to raise or perform any comparable actions.

(4)

At the kick of his smoke grenade, with breath and sight stopped, Kichiro vanished from sight.

Random dude rooting for Kichi' and confused. Wrote:

....

"Kichiro!!"

Where did he go?

A few people standing at the end of the alley had watched a bunch of smoke, and a man kicking what appeared to be the source of the smoke. What the hell had happened? One moment, epic clash of crow bar and potted plant.

Now nothing.

Thud.

Tink.

Tink tink tink tink tink, rattle, thud.

Kichiro was crouched inside the dumpster, as knices and shiny sharp things rained down on the dumpster lid. It was a downtown alley dumpster with one of them steel coverings. There was also the twisted metal of the railing leaning on the other side of it, taking the bigger object... the table, and making it shatter completely.

The man was covered in trash. And a few points were sticking out of the lid towards him. He suffered a few scratches and bruises but nothing too bad.

And then silence.

He was coming down.

"AHA!" Kichiro, covered in yesterday's left overs and baby tim's poopy, jumped out of the dumpster towards Clash. His nose was a bit crinkled, but oh well, he was mostly unscathed. A few tears in his clothing, but nothing too bad.

His right hand held the wakazashi up in the reverse to meet the incoming crowbar, while his left hand launched out something extremely deadly.

Timmy's diaper.

The liquid pooh that Kichiro was not covered in, would land before Clash's path and caush him to go tripping into that wakazashi. His left hand preparing to pummel an off balance Clash in the gut.

6

Celice grabbed her friend's hand without even looking at him, since she couldn't take her eyes off the fighters.

The hell?

It was a given that a fight in the streets would literally become a street fight, but these two guys, although their fight was exciting, gave it a humorous note that made Celice giggle.

Watching Kichiro's moves, her eyes widened and she pressed Khatt's hand tightly.

Look! LOOK!

He's got a... diaper!

Oh my god... that's priceless.

((Not wanting to complain but... three fights going on at once makes it rather difficult for the spectators to keep track. So the kitty has to concentrate on Kichi's fight since he's her hero. Sorry.))

It would seem that Xiu had underestimated the tenacity of his opponent when he had chosen his means of ending the fight without having to wreak too much damage upon the man's form. It would seem that the more he intended to let the man free, the more the man rushed on towards his own demise.

Xiu felt a nagging sensation, of sorts, upon the back of his mind as another convulsion shook the hilt of the weapon as it remained caught in the vortice (( At first you thought I was pulling, then you thought it wasn't. A vortice is a vortex. You know, like a black hole yet this one is created by a compact amount of wind spinning at great speeds, which is how the lightsabre is remaining in place)), its luminous blade erupting forth as it revolved upon its aerial axis.

The tip of his Dao cut cleanly through the air, which should have produced a shrill whistle as it made its way downward yet nothing but a sound similar to a large amount of air being blown through a similarly large hole rang through out the immediate vicinity. Even though he wore a mask, it did not hinder Xiu's ability to see things peripherally, which is how he caught the sudden appearance of his adversary's form, in another sidelong stance, attempting to assault him with a hand formation he was familiar with, one that meant to tear through nerves efficiently.

In a preternatural display of reaction time, Xiu lifted his own left arm as the man's fingers began to traverse the distance between them, so that their arms would meet mid-way, grasping the arm before it would land its blow. Due to the committed nature of the man's charging strike, Xiu was able to employ his opponent's own movements and momentum against him like so.

As Xiu's own left leg was hit from behind in what could only be a sweeping motion, he allowed his own leg to issue forward with the blow, causing his form to take flight for a moment or two before it would land upon the ground. or that is what would normally have transpired. At the moment in which Xiu's foot no longer met solid ground, he set to work and veered, in mid-air, to the left whilst using his opponent's arm as an anchor. This airborne shift would lead Xiu's right arm, which bore the Dao, to move towards his foe while the distance between them became almost zero and the length of his blade cleaved into the man's left shoulder, stopping at his clavicle.

The extent of the damage was more than what it would have originally been, had Xiu not manipulated a slight amount of air; its source having been a slight breeze which swept across the intersection; to increase the speed in which he moved while in the air, towards his foe. Not only did it assist Xiu's attack, but the wind's manipulation created a second, diaphanous blade which would readily pierce through any intangible barrier it might meet upon its trek.

(I just noticed I hadn't been numbering my posts, so... 8)

<<

By Vortices I thought you were imagining telikenetics in a different way. In the way that like you know when you pull a object to yourself it creates a vortex as opposed to the normal hand idea. Apologys.

>

<< 8 >>

Quote: As Xiu's own left leg was hit from behind in what could only be a sweeping motion, he allowed his own leg to issue forward with the blow,

Problem was, Peppa had not hit his opponents foot. The foot had simply been placed behind his opponent to prevent him from doing any sort of dodges. So there was no driving force for his opponent to be pushed into the air. It was safe to say that his opponent was grounded because of this and had not performed any sort of swing.

Afterall, he was still on the ground and couldn't do his air sommersault of doom.

At the same time of these actions Peppa would charge the spiritual energy required to do his next move. A sort of influx would happen as something began to be drawn to him, charging him. It was the jedis way of committing these attacks.

As his opponent raised hsi arm, Peppa would change objectives. A warrior knew that if he was to be grabbed on his wrists it would turn out bad. He would Instead grasp his opponents wrist as his opponent grasped his arm. With this interlock his opponent could probably do less damage as Peppa coudl do to him.

For Peppa would raise his left thumb and push into the skin.

While doing this, he would bring his own right foot forward so now he was almost facing his opponents back. It was a sort of half and half situation. His opponent had percieved the arm as useless, while Peppa had ineed suffered damage to it, he was able to control it through sheer act of will. Granted, if the arm was broken off-he wouldn't be able to use it all, but he could use it despite this.

Raising his opponents left arm outward while raising his own elbow, Peppa would slam his opponents bicep with his forearm. Essentially, snapping the mans left arm. With the charged energy, the electrons he had gathered would be shot into his opponent. Enough to shock a large part of the mans nervous system for a good second.

The more Xiu gave Peppa the chance the more Peppa put heart into this. It seemed as if he was almost giving his all. Despite having been cut up and humiliated in the first rounds of the match. His opponent only humiliated him further the more he taunted him. It seemed that Peppa may not win this battle but he was not going to give up. This is why he was a true friend and good ally.

9

His opponent forgot that Peppa wore a metal gauntlet over his left hand which extended a little past the elbow. The elbow portion being a snugly fit sort of chain mail. Nonetheless, Peppa had not forgotten about the kukate. Tho' his thumb would act as a kukate seeing how it was pointed, cutting the mans flesh if it was not protected by anything other than a good set of metal.

So in turn, his strength would be weakened exponentionaly and rather incapitated as his opponent had been trying to do to his left arm.

A reaction to being tugged forward would to resist. Pepap's own left arm would pull back. While his opponents weapon would essentially slide off the metal his own thumb would create a wound within the mans arm. Another reason why Peppa was not being tugged was because this whole time he had been trying to push his opponents arm outwards.

So that way he could perform the arm snap.

Also, it was a simple step, Peppa hadn't done a huge jump, it was a small step forward. So if there was any real force, he would simply stomp his right foot down to create a large opposing force. Thoroughly planted to counter the as stated before smaller man.

However, due to the stomp, he was now unable to perform the arm snap. He had barely gained any ground in what seemed to be two men trying to arm wrestle sideways. THis time, he would slide his right foot forwards while applying more pressure on his opponents left arm.

The more force his opponent gave to resist the movements, the more his opponents arm would be peirced. Peppa could very well give the man a full forearm peircing at this rate, the way he was tugging and flailign around like a idiot.

While sliding his right foot forward he would send that accumalated electricity charge through his opponents left arm, using the force he would attempt to guide the energys to his opponents right arms fingers. It would act as a great defence. Muscles reacted on electrical impulses, so when Peppa attempted to guid a nice electrical charge into his opponents fingers, the muscles would spasms.

Dropping a dao.

Kichiro would be up just in time to see...

Thud.

It destracted him for a split second, to see the kitchen knife hit into the shaolin darts scaled under his shirt and fall the ground.

"Blech..."

Kichiro had been pressed against a wall with a swinging crowbar to his blade, and had hidden in trash. Where his oppenant had been hit with a potted plant in the head, had a smoke grenade come at him while his eyes were still open, and now had been slugged in the face.

It didn't stop the man from being slightly winded by moving around so much.

"Rabid dog?"

Kichiro's eyes ran in quick glances as he moved off to the side, away from the pooh streak, and towards a more clean path to his oppenant. And then he moved in, with his left hand swiping beneath his overcoat once more.

Advancing, three shurikens would come flying out at Clash. They came in a diagnal line, starting from outside his left hip, deadcenter chest, to outside his right shoulder. They all went from his hand at the same time, buzz sawing as they went.

And by the time Kichiro would be five feet away from his oppenant, his left hand would be dropped once more within, gripping something.

8

Kichiro Oda Wrote:

And by the time Kichiro would be five feet away from his oppenant-

-another knife came flying at his throat at a sharp upward angle as Kurashu loosed it from beneath the cover of his shield, which the shuriken aimed at his own chest had thunked into. Two of the throwing projectile's points poked through the round lid like teeth eager to taste his flesh.

He stooped down and gripped the crowbar without looking, positioning the trashcan lid a little lower at arm's length to protect his torso and knees, prepared to move in and react at whatever came out of this guy's bag of tricks next. The knife shined between his teeth.

Sure this dog was winded. But a pot over the head and a pat on the cheek? Dreslin'd done worse in the bar.

Grey clouds rolled overhead, seeded and ready to sprout. The white arcs shooting through and lashing amongst them might as well have been fertilizer; with a thunderclap that reported out over the city like a gunshot, the first drops of rain began to fall. Mist wisped away from Kurashu's bare arm.

9

A slight grimace flitted across Xiu's features as the man's metallic thumb continued to force its way through the flesh of his forearm, as their forms did, in fact, make their way towards the ground due to Xiu using his opponent's momentum against him. ((If you are pushing and I pull, which is what I did, it would cause you to move forward.))

Their sudden descent was abruptly halted, though, by the man's own right foot which was firmly slammed into the ground in order to regain his composure. This sudden jerking motion; coupled with Xiu's elusive capabilities and the sleek composition of his attire; allowed for his slender wrist to slip through the man's grasp, the nondescript metal of the kakute grinding along the gaunlet's palm.

As the tips of his phalanges slipped through the man's grasp, the air became electric (literally), sparks emanating from the man's metal-encompassed hand. Throughout the fight's entirety, the man that stood directly before him continued to rely on the other-worldly while Xiu remained, for the most part, with the corporeal. If he wished to make this fight fantastic, Xiu would oblige.

The right arm which Xiu had swung in an arc whilst his opponent had lifted his own right foot came crashing down, meant cleave into the man's trapezius, coming to rest at his collar bone. Yet, borne upon another gale was Xiu's left leg. The speed behind the foot would cause a more than moderate amount of pain as the side of Xiu's foot would strike the side of the man's left knee, the uprising of air lifting Xiu's lithe form upon its strength and into the air, enveloping him entirely.

(10)

Con Amore Wrote:

Dusk pressed the left leg forwards precisely as he had chosen to beforehand regardless of his opponent's choice of movement with his right, whether it be knee or roundhouse, the motion of the left leg moved while the two arms were in contact and therefore neither would be able to gain the advantage of footwork. That edge of the left foot barely needed elevate for it intended to drive towards the shin, a considerably lower portion of the foot, and therefore at best the two would remain matched in pace to that point.

The left continued with the veracity and aim it carried before directly for the exposed shin while it began traveling. Simplicity remained the key and as such redirections were of little taxation upon the warrior's frame, he intended fully to render his opponent in whatever damaging straits he could. And as the edge of the foot would be the portion forcing itself towards the bone of the lower right leg of his challenger, the pressure applied would experience a considerable increase with the much smaller area of focus utilized.

The left arm meanwhile generated its own circular momentum directly in line with whatever recovering it would have done, the hand merely bent outwards at the wrist (The leftover positioning of his earlier push) and the arm portion itself revolving a full three hundred and sixty degrees twice in a tight circle, once part of the recovery and the second an immediate continuation timed to push against Sieg's coming right arm the moment it entered within range, a defensive tactic to keep it away from the shoulder's range and directed away without losing momentum. Dusk's right arm, precisely positioned before his chest with his repositioned initial stance, finally took action at that moment and caught the moving right wrist of his opponent while it was pushed across his body.

With such control of his body maintained at that point, the left leg with its intents towards the shin would, again in keeping matched pace with his opponent, slightly redirect outside to smash against the roundhouse that would begin its sweep (That is, if it continued), intended to completely deaden the blow by meeting with the very shin that traveled. Again, the edge would be utilized however for the sake of an offensive benefit that could, under the right circumstances, crush the bone of the shin itself with the increase in force applied.

But the assault would not silence with that alone. For with Sieg's right wrist captured tightly within Dusk's right hand, his left arm collapsed into an elbow and flew upwards towards the still exposed jawline of his opponent with the truest of objectives. With Sieg's right arm caught and drawn across the body effectively preventing the left from crossing without complete awkwardness, defense would seem a veritable impossibility.

(5)

(6)

Alright...

Because the opponents kick would deliver its blow with its edge, as said in: "And as the edge of the foot would be the portion forcing itself towards the bone of the lower right leg of his challenger", the edge of the foot because of the speed at which Sieg would perform his own kick would not impact the bone of his own kick, but would instead because of the angle at which the kick was thrown impact the side of the back of Siegs left leg and because this was the thin lower edge of Siegs leg; his kick would simply slide off and would not impede the path of the kick enough to stop the right leg from knocking his a** off of his feet as said in the last post. Especially sense, no matter how high or how not high the opponent would have had to lift his foott, the kick which was delivered at close range was still being thrown during the rising motion; meaning the opponent would have to target a moving target at that close range in that short of a time frame.

To keep it simple, Sieg was making one sudden motion where the opponent was making two motion. Siegs one sudden motion was made at the same speed the opponent made his first sudden motion. Nevermind the fact that the opponent still cancelled out of a motion to make that motion. Nevermind the fact that the opponent would still be leaning backwards, making it more difficult to see the moving object that he is trying to intercept.

So please sit your a** down.

Now the opponent was not only cancelling his attacks, but adding to them because as said in his previous post; his recover of the arm was straight back. Now as said here: The left arm meanwhile generated its own circular momentum directly in line [i]with whatever recovering, which means the original motion was simply a retraction but now he has cancelled that into something else. Now besides the rediculousness of the opponent in that one instance of retracting his first parry, moving it back in to perform 3 360 degree turns and two tight circle turns - at that close of range with the straight grasp and the opponent attempting to parry that grasp with a full turn; it could be disputed that Sieg would get the grasp first. Besides that, the opponent would most likely have his footing removed from beneath him during the attempted parry with the left arm. Either way, the right arm would grab the shoulder before it was grabbed by either the opponents right arm or parried by the left; this would prevent it from being pulled across the body. Even if this was not the case, by simply strength Sieg would resist the pull across his body. This would be especially easy sense the opponents body was falling towards the ground.

How do you say you did something in one paragraph, but change what you did in another paragraph.

Ok now on to the next load of bull s**t. The opponent would then attempt to redirect the path of the left side kick to the outside to smash in front of the roundhouse which according to the opponent would just be beggining its motion. Now how would this be possible if the opponent had to lift up its leg and then thrust the leg downwards at a target already in motion at close range while leaning back. Despite the fact that he would be hit by Siegs attack before the kick was ever even released, it would be impossible to change the path of that sidekick at that speed, at that short of range, in length of time. Then the opponent says that the edge of his foot, will instead of just sliding off the shin would actually crush it which is not likely unless he has the foot of the juggernaut. Either way, Siegs attack would hit first and the opponent would be falling towards the ground.

As said before, because of the circular motion that the opponent magically took between the ticks of the second, Sieg would have already had the grasp because he would reach out at the short range where the opponent would turn his arm in a full 360 degree turn before he would actually hit the arm. THe opponents right hand would grab Siegs arm and his opponents elbow would collapse into an elbow. That was pretty an all but the entire elbow would be caught in Siegs left palm, with the left hand which had been at his guard the whole time. Sieg was also still leaning slight to the left, he would have more time to defend himself.

During this the opponents body would still be falling towards the ground.

and even if the opponent had it his way...

Due to the akward position, All Sieg would have to do is push to his right and you would be falling towards the ground anyway.

but regardless

This needs a judge's decision.

(( I'll edit my action into this post at a later time, but I must state that your attempts at being condescending are ill-advised, at best.

Quote: Another reason why Peppa was not being tugged was because this whole time he had been trying to push his opponents arm outwards.

You say that, after you react to me tugging then give a tug of your own. That's a few seconds between my tug and your own opposing tug. That's more than enough time for me to go through my series of events.

Another point would be your bit about the electricity. I state that my hand arm slips out of your grasp and the electricity bursts before it. Given the fact that you're standing "almost behind me" that would mean that it would erupt into the air between us.

Also, your boots would have to go up pretty high to cover the side of your knee. In any case, like I stated earlier, I'll edit my action into here upon my return. ))

EDIT:

(( I believe I stated earlier that Xiu is 5'5 and weighs less than 130 lbs. So, he's obviously going to have small feet. Keep in mind that he's also Chinese. In any case, I digress. My below post should be more than enough to explain as to how the electricity is moved away from Xiu and how the kick connects. Also, it would be considered "unencumbered" if there was the moment between your pushing then your pulling. There's no way, in any given context, can "pushing his arm to the outside" be considered pulling, since they're complete opposites. So, we would stumble in between the time I tug and you stomp your foot. ))

The extent of Xiu's power over the air became apparent as his form ascended into the heavens, the inside of his small foot slamming into the side of the man's knee with a sickening thud as he rose, the force behind the blow amplified by the increased momentum created by his ability.

Its nature allowed Xiu to control the air and all of the elements composing it, bending it to his will, which is how the surge of electricity that issued forth from his foe was met with a nigh impenetrable wall of the air's compressed molecules; it having arisen as Xiu had sent forth the blade of his Dao; and caused the manifestation of spiritual energy to disperse.

Aside from causing the electricity his foe had sent forth to dissipate, the field that enveloped Rui Xiu also caused the careening lightsabre to veer off its course long enough for his Dao to forcefully come into contact with the man's trapezius, severing tendons until it met resistance in the form of the man's clavicle. The length of his blade would then slide upwards, at an angle, as Xiu was carried aloft by the element he mastered, sending his form fifteen feet backwards. Xiu landed upon his feet, spreading his toes upon the sun-soaked asphalt while rivulets of blood ran down the blade, creating a pool at his right side as the hem of sleeves billowed ominously, his form enclosed within the wall for the time being.

He stooped down without looking at the crowbar, o'course. Both eyes remained pinned on his sword-toting adversary. Kichiro deflected the knife and flipped the wakazashi around to sink the extent of its edge into Kurashu's left shoulder/collarbone area, even as the movement of the opponent's other arm--which K had a mind to watch--brought on the flash of steel, and another blade, even longer than the first, came skimming toward his knees.

The crowbar had been snatched quickly, with the preceding knife throw more of a diversion to grant him the precious second or so to get to his makeshift weapon. He knew he was ill-equipped here, and in a bad way; two deadly swords vs. his scrap metal shield and a crowbar with compromised integrity, a rubble-covered dumpster at his back. But the grin never faded, and a rivulet of blood seeped over the brim of his bottom lip as teeth clamped down on the knife between them, a thought transpiring even as he moved.

I like these odds.

Still crouched after retrieving his steel pole, his leading left foot shot back the moment Kichiro came in and swung the blades at him. The sole of the boot planted against the dumpster, and then fired off like a bazooka.

BOOM~

He sent himself off at an angle to the right, almost back-flipping from the force of the projection as his body spun into the opponent, knees bending while feet left the earth and both body and legs were swept away from the bisecting trajectory of the opposing blades. Kichiro was left with a smoking hole in the dumpster where Kurashu's foot lay moments before, ringing ears and probable shell-shock, a violent swirl of gravel from the blowback of the explosive evasion, a faceful of trashcan lid as K passed up and by him, and a crowbar hook to the base of the skull. He rocketed off mid-swing, neither blade able to touch him in their limited arcs in the same direction, and with both arms occupied and his vision canned, Kichiro would be hard-pressed to defend himself against the skull-punishing blow from behind.

As the heated flash burned out, Kurashu skidded to a halt almost right behind the guy and to the left, a trail of cinders smoldering in his wake. The glowing edges of the hole in the dumpster dripped, and his faux-sword and shield were poised at the ready just as before, preparing to strike even should his foe crumble.

The skies darkened and the few raindrops heralding the storm picked up pace. Globules of water hissed against Kurashu's flesh, and both right arm and crowbar burned red.

10

(( Just for clarification purposes involving anybody watching the fight between Sieg and I, after all the judging mess we're deciding that the legs canceled each other out, my grasp of his arm never happened (And consequently there was no attempted elbow strike) and essentially we're right back in the stances with which we began, but within much closer range. ))

Arms settled in once more bent at the elbow towards Dusk's midsection, as feet found themselves regained in near his original positioning of the entire engagement solid upon firm ground while eyes kept themselves locked upon his rather crafty challenger, feet stepping back a pace to remove that uncomfortably close distance. A sequence of blows and counters was all it was, the immaculate flow of one strike into the next without halt, each fashioned and then executed within virtually the same instant with a mechanical precision.

Looked like this one was gonna be tough, but Dusk wasted little time before proceeding into the next series, and it would be he who began the onslaught this time around with a sudden rush of sorts, although it carried along a tad more grace than a straightforward linear dash. The right leg shuffled itself forwards and to the right with a quick half-step towards his opponent's left side. Once there he anticipated for a fleeting with those arms in position should his opponent devise an offensive of his own to come so suddenly. But it would be without another moment's wait that Dusk dropped towards his knees and released the left arm, which with his semi-sidestep was poised almost directly before the abdomen, with a voracious fist that drove for the midsection. Meanwhile both feet were to be kept risen upon the toes to leave him the option of sliding which he felt soon enough he'd be incredibly prone to use.

(6)

Con Amore Wrote:

(( Just for clarification purposes involving anybody watching the fight between Sieg and I, after all the judging mess we're deciding that the legs canceled each other out, my grasp of his arm never happened (And consequently there was no attempted elbow strike) and essentially we're right back in the stances with which we began, but within much closer range. ))

Arms settled in once more bent at the elbow towards Dusk's midsection, as feet found themselves regained in near his original positioning of the entire engagement solid upon firm ground while eyes kept themselves locked upon his rather crafty challenger, feet stepping back a pace to remove that uncomfortably close distance. A sequence of blows and counters was all it was, the immaculate flow of one strike into the next without halt, each fashioned and then executed within virtually the same instant with a mechanical precision.

Looked like this one was gonna be tough, but Dusk wasted little time before proceeding into the next series, and it would be he who began the onslaught this time around with a sudden rush of sorts, although it carried along a tad more grace than a straightforward linear dash. The right leg shuffled itself forwards and to the right with a quick half-step towards his opponent's left side. Once there he anticipated for a fleeting with those arms in position should his opponent devise an offensive of his own to come so suddenly. But it would be without another moment's wait that Dusk dropped towards his knees and released the left arm, which with his semi-sidestep was poised almost directly before the abdomen, with a voracious fist that drove for the midsection. Meanwhile both feet were to be kept risen upon the toes to leave him the option of sliding which he felt soon enough he'd be incredibly prone to use.

(6)

(6)

'QUIT PLAYING AROUND SIEG, WHUP HIS a**'

Someone shouted from the crowd. At the same time Sieg would arrive back in his original stance, however in a southpaw position. He would be bouncing upon his feet, for this fight had only just begun. The Opponent would seek to return to close range again, stepping towards Siegs left. Sieg wouls use his shuffle step to move in a quick but controlled way towards the opponent, with his final step into arms reach Sieg would move his feet so that he would continue to face the opponent.

The opponent would throw a punch towards Siegs abdomen, Simoutaniously with the release of the punch Sieg would slide his lead right foot forward in between the opponents feet. He would also bend his knees slightly. The opponents punch to Siegs abdomen would be blocked by Siegs Right arm (the lower portion of the bicep). Sieg would stay in his guard position, tuck his right elbow into his body while keeping his right hand up at his jaw. He would during the block, turn his waist just slightly in a clockwise turn in order to position Siegs arm in front of the punch. The turn of his body would also cause the opponents fist to slide to the left side of Siegs body.

As the punch landed Sieg would push forward off of his lead right foot, sliding his left instep on the the ground. Sieg would bend over forwards so that his forehead would ram into the opponents lower abdomen. Just as Siegs head impacted the opponents body his arms would reach around the opponents legs and pull them in. Siegs head would push the opponent forward while his arms sucked in the opponents legs, and would push him down on the ground on his back. Siegs chin would be tucked during this double leg takedown.

The opponent would not be able to use his left arm which would be stuck between there bodies in the sudden takedown. Siegs head was in a position where it could be stricken, but the leverage for these strikes would be small and would not be a smart thing to do during his takedown. Siegs shoulders would tense, blocking off the opponents ability to attack the sides of his neck. This takedown would happen in an instance, there would be no telegraph.

Con Amore Wrote:

As his fist was struck and sent into somewhat of a redirect, Dusk grinned and those feet that remained positioned upon their toes began working into precisely what they would be used for. The moment the arm was projected in the direction it was, Dusk propelled his knees back up into a standing stance from the leverage he gained against his own body sitting atop the toes.

But they wouldn't move immediately, most certainly not, for their intent was to remained calculated to that precision he always chose to move with. While eyes caught sight of his challenger bending and preparing for the rush inwards, Dusk poised the right hand in towards the elbow and curled fingertips into a tight fist with the exception of the middle knuckle which would extend somewhat beyond the positioning. Yet again would he employ physics in all its glory to his prepared assault, decreasing surface area for the sake of exponential force increases. This wasn't just going to be a battle of brute force, it was going to be a tactical struggle.

While Sieg pushed forwards Dusk would resist no longer, the right hand forcing out horizontally across his body, bent at the elbow initially and timed to smash directly into the side of Sieg's head, and not just any place atop the skull, but against the side of the temple in an attempt to defer the blow towards his side, or what would have been his side had Dusk not at that moment taken those risen feet and attempted to pivot backwards on his right foot. Arms, should they still dare come within, would be met with a trying resistance as well, for the right arm that pounded against the temple would essentially motion right backwards following the head strike into an elbow against Sieg's left arm. The right would be left to its own machinations should it decide to continue trying to wrap around, however Dusk's left would soon enough be recovering on its own, with malice inherent in its intrigues.

(7)

Well that was expected. Hitting a person during the double leg takedown was never a smart move to do. Because think about this. the part of Siegs body that the opponent is striking against is extremmly close to his lower abdominals. When one man punched another, the power didnt come fromt he arm but the turn of the hips and feet. The position of dusk's target would be in a place where it would not be possible to channel the force from the hips and shoulder turns that made punch's powerful and while reducing the surface area sounded good on paper - it woudnt do much with the little force behind it.

So yeah...'ow', it hit, but did little. Sieg was a mixed martial arts fighter, punch's of any kind were something that he was used to recieving. The forward momentum of Siegs body would prevent his head from being knocked to the side by the weak blow. The takedown would happen as said in the previous post.

During the motion of the opponent hitting his head, Sieg would alraedy have the wrap around the opponents legs and would be pulling them in. The elbow against the left arm woudnt do much of anything, sense Sieg was grabbing around the legs and the opponent had sprung into a fully erect standing position which would make it much easier to take him down. The opponents elbow shoudnt be able to reach Siegs left arm, but if it somehow did, it woudnt provide enough force to knock Siegs arm from its grasp around the opponents legs. The opponents pivot by the legs would be nearly suffucated with the grasp of Siegs arms.

Even so...

It woudnt take more than one grasp around a leg to take the now fully erect opponent to his back. Sieg would then move up into mount position on top of his opponents. He would sit on his knees above the opponents chest with his knees beneath the opponents undearms but not touching them. He would begin to rain down punch's down on the opponent. His hands would be able to reach the opponent in his postion, but while Sieg was on top of his opponent his opponent woudnt have the leverage or reach to damage Sieg. Siegs punch's would come at varying angles and at a broken rythm, which would allow Sieg to penetrate the opponents defenses. The opponents head would bounce up and down on the concrete, creating cracks and dents into the hard surface.

GROUND N POUND

The crowds would go wild.

The crowbar split over the wakazashi's edge, halving its length, and the katana cut a jagged line in the outside thigh above Kurashu's left knee. Superficial, but messy.

He felt the surge of current before he saw the light, flames superseding the yellow glow to wreathe his opponent's body. He wasn't quite sure what it was all about, if the flash signified something special, or just another mundane show of fire.

Delicate needles pricked his left leg, rising from the wound. They danced in his head now, down his neck, behind the eyes. His shoulders were going numb from the tumble out the window. The tips of his fingers burned. He could hear shouts as spectators crammed into the mouth of the alley, ignoring the coming rain and thunderheads to watch the fight. The fighters' shadows stretched against the brick walls, breathing, dancing, clashing as if alive.

K rolled his neck on his shoulders and shook the ice from inside his limbs as temperatures skyrocketed in answer, his own fiery aura juxtaposed to Kichiro's, surging through him like a lightning storm, effects indiscernable until evoked. Only his right arm glowed as the remainder of his steel pole simmered, a low whine building up from somewhere on his person.

"My soul may belong to Jesus, but my a** belong to me."

The torn trashcan lid was discarded in favor of the knife, whose handle fell from mouth to left palm. Both short weapons moved forward, in time with his feet.

11

Con Amore Wrote:

While the force of the blow from the fist might not have been enough to do damage, it wasn't intended to regardless and so Dusk applied the extra pressure necessary while it touched skull and rather did just as it was meant to, in striking the head at an angle designed explicitly to guide the blow, not halt its momentum, and thusly the applied pressure would be enough to defer the strike not directly into the abdominals, but into Dusk's left side, continuing to push after the initial strike.

Such motion in his challenger's body being forced enough would have normally elevated his opponent's left side upwards while the head traveled downwards to the right, but as Sieg put up a strong resistance in combination with the immediate wrapping of the arms, Dusk would instead perpetuate his momentum to his left (The direction in which the fist traveled and his feet began to pivot) and move his entire body into that direction.

While Sieg's takedown, arms wrapped in full about Dusk, would to some extent be successful in the fact that he clutched fully about the legs and began forcing Dusk downwards, the momentum thrown behind Dusk's punch would be more than enough to alter the direction of them both while they tumbled, timed to such precision that as both men struck the ground, it would be the wily kid from the land unknown atop the mixed martial artist, and not the other way around.

This offered his own opportunity now to take the advantage and unleash the same assault that his opponent no doubt would have tried under the opposing circumstances, taking advantage of the same leverage that left the frame of his opponent in that helplessness, punch after punch, fist after fist, raining down atop an exposed jawline with a ceaseless rhythm that released every ounce of frustration that the engagement had built up to that point.

For whom the crowds would be going wild was going to be anyone's guess by the end of this one.

8

(

This guy clearly had no experience ground fighting. He had just attempted to push Sieg over as if he had dived towards his opponent, which was not the case. Sieg at all times was in control of his body, he had never dived in a way that would allow his opponent to roll Sieg over midair because he was never in the air. SImply pushing on Siegs head to the left would do nothing to alter the path of Siegs technique, even if he through his entire body into it. Even if Siegs opponent was able to diver tthe path of his head, his opponent woudnt be able to turn Siegs whole body during the double leg.

The first reason was because pushing at Siegs head during that sudden forward burst wasnt going to change the path of his head, doing that was like someone parrying a missle from point blank range, it just wasnt going to happen. Sieg would be grasping his opponents legs, and as said in the previous post the turn of the opponents body would be sufficated by the grasp around the legs. Furthermore, the turn of the opponents body would not have the leverage or power to turn Siegs body in a way that would make him end up on the ground. The opponents back would hit the ground and Sieg would take mount as said in the previous post.

At no time did sieg tumble. The opponent would be on bottom and SIeg would be beating his head in.

Try again...[/size]

Celice made a few steps back towards a wall, trying to find shelter from the falling rain, and, in doing so, pulling Khatt with her since she never released her grip on him.

Water. Bah!

She was too much of a cat to enjoy water, especially from above.

After that short distraction she focused on the fight again.

Her eyes widened as she pointed at Kichiro.

Look Khatt! LOOK!

HE'S GLOWING!

Damnit does he... BURN???

Out of sheer excitement, she put one of her claws into her mouth, gnawing on it nervously, while her other hand was still using Khatt's left arm as a scratching post.

The suspense...

The way a Chimagin used Chi and Chakra was a bit different, they used chakranchi.

Definition. Wrote:

Chakranchi is the name for the art, stemming from Chakra and Chi being connected through a Western Arcane magic

The arcane effect was prevent a hijacking of his self control through a barrier, not tied to his soul as pure Chi would be. It was a shield created through chi in an arcane effect to merely place a barrier signifying his area of influence.

To see something coming that would be powerful enough to do that, Kichiro would see the energy itself coming into existence through waves and lines like heat rising from the ground and the steam pouring off both of them.

Just before the the Flame Drill hit Kichiro, he'd pull the wakazashi in tight so the tip was out at Clash's head. The katana pulled in so that it was at Clash's chest.

Then.

BOOM!

The force of the Flame Drill going into the barrier, would cause an explosion of energies. Flames, rips in concrete, and likely a crater would be left behind. Clash would drive right into Kichiro's blades, impaling himself as Kichiro's own sheild would stop the Flame Drill from simply pressing the blades away.

His sheild would be destroyed, but not without a price.

As Kichiro's blades connected, he was thrown back through the wall, back through a pipe, not able to hold onto his blades as he was thrown back with so much force.

Blood.

Lots of blood.

Smoke, dust.

Debri shooting into the street where they had been fighting, into that crater just now created.

Kichiro's overcoat could be seen swinging loosely on a piece of slag in the hole where Clash had busted him through.

And when the dust cleared, Kichiro could be seen hurt and looking towards his oppenant. He was on his knees with patches of blood and scorch marks all over him, holding his abdomen in pain and breathing hard. He wasn't sure where he was, just that Clash would soon be upon him.

I... can't... lose... but... so much... power...

12

The ghostly tissue of the two mixed in a violent explosion, the aftershock crammed in Kichiro's direction as licks of flame and hellwhips of sheer force arced throughout the alley, decimating their surroundings.

Despite the Chimagin's barrier protecting him to a degree, the drilling motion inspired by Kurashu's technique never ceased until the attack's summation. The two blades were steered off-course, but only slightly.

The wakazashi fish-hooked the right side of his mouth, ripping a horizontal line through the cheek in a gout of blood.

The katana eviscerated guts at the left of his abdomen.

Debris settled. The hole in the side of the abandoned warehouse into which they'd just tumbled roiled with smoke. Spectators on the outside backed away from the throat of the alley as a plume rose over the intersection like a mushroom cloud. Sundered pipes steamed within, and a downed Kurashu could barely make out the silhouette of his opponent through the haze.

He braced himself, prepared for the rare occasion that he might pass out from the pain. He'd felt a few ribs give out, and one, beyond repair and threatening to tear him up inside if he moved, had to leave now. He pushed his guts back through the hole in his side to keep them out of the way, and then wrenched the bum rib out with a snap like a splintering tree, twisting it at the end to sever some loose cartilage, cauterizing the wound with a palm hotter than a welder's torch. The curved bone artifact fell to the floor in a steaming black swamp. He wanted to scream, but his jaw wouldn't let him.

He stagger-stepped to his feet, the pain hitting him like relentless kicks to the balls.

Weaponless, but his dukes were up; both mitts worked fine, so he was golden.

Purposeful strides carried him in Kichiro's direction.

Time was almost up.

Giving out before the buzzer was out of the question.

He didn't have time to bleed.

13

Phhhh... that other guy may be quite okay, but Kichiro is just friggin' awesome.

And you KNOW that!

Celice threw a nasty glance at Khatt.

How could he even dare to say...

Watching the fight going on, she bit her lip hard, almost to the point of breaking skin.

And once again her claws were pressing into Khatt's arm.

Her eyes widened as she gasped.

He... he's injured. Oh my god...

KICHIRO!

Oh my god... I hope he'll be okay...

The guy came in.

Kurashu drove his right knee into the bridge of Kichiro's nose, but couldn't hope to sprawl through the pain and the daze. The shoulder hit with a hollow thud, and the two shot out through the hole, sliding in the rain-slicked, wide groove of hot ash the clash of Chakranchi and Flame Drill had left.

On the way up, out, and back down, he pressured the top of Kichiro's head with his left hand, intent on keeping the guy from riding too high on him when they slid to a halt even as his legs were sucked under the opponent, and released unrelenting, heavy elbows with his metallic right arm to the base of his opponent's skull.

Jagged debris made sushi out of his back, leaving it all shredded strips, but his expression was stoic through it all.

14

Lone Hand Wrote:

The guy came in.

Kurashu drove his right knee into the bridge of Kichiro's nose, but couldn't hope to sprawl through the pain and the daze. The shoulder hit with a hollow thud, and the two shot out through the hole, sliding in the rain-slicked, wide groove of hot ash the clash of Chakranchi and Flame Drill had left.

On the way up, out, and back down, he pressured the top of Kichiro's head with his left hand, intent on keeping the guy from riding too high on him when they slid to a halt even as his legs were sucked under the opponent, and released unrelenting, heavy elbows with his metallic right arm to the base of his opponent's skull.

Jagged debris made sushi out of his back, leaving it all shredded strips, but his expression was stoic through it all.

14

Flash.

The world went white as Kichiro's nose was shattered into a million pieces.

Flash.

The world coming back into view, would dissapear as a heavy blow landed on his skull. The Chimagin might've taken demons on blow for blow in his day, but his skull wouldn't last much more of those.

They came down to the ground, with Clash pounding away and Kichiro dazed as ********.

But his arms, they were around Clash's waist with his hands so close to one another. Those forearms held dagger bracers, and on the way down to impact, they moved in spasmatic instinct. Daggers slipped up to his hands, and drove them into Clash's shoulders from below and behind. Kichiro's hands would be sore after having Clash land on them, but there'd be no more power in those arms of Clash's as he hit the ground with some new accupuncture.

Kichiro wouldn't even try to push off as he was pounded, too weak from bloodloss and brokenness.

Instead, he just bit down as hard as he could in the guts and blood that was under his face. The warrior gone berserk, senseless, began chewing away at Clash.

14

Celice blushed even more.

Nice guy...

Unlike a certain catboy person who barely acknowledged her presence. Phhh!

The "lovely damsel" part made her giggle though.

Apparently this guy was a smooth talker. She should take care.

I'm fine, thank you. Enjoying the tournament so far.

What about yourself?

All of a sudden she felt like she should rearrange something.

Her dress? Her hair? Maybe the fur on her ears looked all messy?

In a rather subconscious motion - and surely out of embarrasment - she licked her right paw and brushed it over her ear two times.

Can't do harm to try to look nice, no?

What's this?

Kichiro's world was fading fast from him, but his teeth found something sort of round in all that mess of blood and gore.

I can't really feel anything.

And then a hard blow to the soft spot at the bottom of the cranium.

During all their movement and Clash's pushing down on Kichiro's head to keep him from riding up, Kichiro's head had basically burred in Clash's gut.

That really hard blow that made Kichiro's body go limp, well it entailed teeth death clamping on Clash's large intestine. That went with him, along with the dagger in Clash's left shoulder ripping the man to shred's inside the left side as Kichiro went flying.

The world... it's... moving...

Kichiro woke up with a resounding crack in his back, spitting out the intestine along with some bile from all the force he'd taken. The world was fuzzy.

It's moving faster...

Kichiro fell to his knees, eyes fighting to open up and have some clue as to where he was at.

People aren't suppose to die in this tournament.

Kichiro wasn't fighting for himself, his teammates were counting on him. Blood loss, damaged eyes, something wrong with a vertebre in his back, a broken nose, and a constant ringing in his head for some strange damn reason.

What could he do?

I've fought the likes of Ertai... I'm not going down yet...

Those thoughts were nice.

But Kichiro fell in a puddle of his own blood, spasming and fighting unconciousness. He could still fight, and he was looking at the general direction of Clash.

But his legs weren't moving, as he began pulling himself with his arms...

...Out of the dumpster which Clash had made a hole in only recently.

A mutilated face, squinting eyes, and two hands bloody as they gripped torn metal to pull him out of it. Kichiro was moving towards Clash once more, though as a cripple. His right arm felt as though it were about to give out...

15

Sometimes, you do some pretty stupid things when you're all riled up.

Get smashed at a party and pick a fight with the wrong guy.

Say something to a certain girl that lands you a few smacks in the face and a trip out the front door and down a flight of stairs.

What he'd done is rip out a rib to keep fighting, pretending the stench of his opponent's burning flesh smelled like victory, and no doubt Cthugha'd regrow him a new one in Cthugha's image, something Kurashu wasn't sure he wanted.

What he'd done is torn up a part of the city in pursuit of his opponent--who he might've just been trying to kill in that rabid persistence, like a dog lifting a leg against a fire hydrant with no mind to anyone who might've cared around him--like the selfish b*****d he was.

What he'd done is ******** himself senseless until nothing mattered anymore, so he could spend another several-days piss-up in his hotel room and the downstairs bar, letting the world take a backseat to the sedatives and the pain hiding just beneath.

You gotta use all your outs in a situation like this, but sometimes, you just ain't got no more outs.

Sometimes...you do some pretty stupid things.

He'd stuffed his guts back up inside him and sealed the wound, so while Kichiro might not quite get the chance to tear a piece of intestine with him...he did get off with a clump of flesh.

K rolled over and wobbled to his feet, bending his knees to stop from passing out. His left arm looked like little more than a languid scrap, streaked with blood and mud, and anyone who hadn't seen him before the fight would never know who he was now. Looked like he'd had a bucket of rotten chum dumped over him.

He heard a sound like crunching gravel, and noticed his boots were moving. Then he remembered where he was, and why the guy he was heading toward was all s**t-stained and flopping out of a dumpster.

16

Kichiro took a shuriken from his right bicep, his left hand having most the strength in it. His left shuriken sleaves now being empty.

THUD.

One of the shurikens was knocked into the dumpster, and Kichiro heaved himself up. His legs were wobbly, and not really able to be used, but Kichiro used what arm strength he had left to pull himself up and lay back against that broken dumpster.

Blood.

Hell, this guy should've gone to the Red Cross to make a few bucks with how much he was bleeding. His own fire would cauterize some wounds, but there were so many cuts and scrapes from being thrown around and all the debri... he'd have to really concentrate.

Crunch.

Kichiro heard something horrid in his right hand, the thing was busted.

Great.

Apparently using it to pull himself out of that dumpster, was the last bit that it would take. Sometimes one's body or part for that matter, just said no.

"Heh..."

Kichiro breathed hard, focusing hard, and motioning his right arm up. His left helped, crossing his chest and acting as support. The air around him glowed yellow, and Kichiro just quit with his eyes.

Some bashing to his head, they just didn't want to open anymore. And Kichiro was done fighting it.

He'd whited out a few times, but still remained concious for the most part.

Now... this was all that was left. His body rattled, and his near shattered right arm quaked.

Kichiro had to keep fighting.

16

Hemorrhaging in earnest now, blood spilled over his bottom lip in steady streams, and he leaned aside to vomit hot red wrapped in black--not even liquid...he'd just spat a piece of himself out onto the street--either from swallowing so much blood or losing it.

No way...

That yellow light again. He wasn't sure if he was imagining it, his fears of defeat and the opponent rising back up manifesting in slow time. They always told you not to go to the light.

******** 'em.

His right fist clenched, and he poured the last of his reserves into it. Burning sigils traced manic paths along his buried flesh, and the large one on his back exploded in a flash of light that swamped even what his suffering opponent displayed.

Propel.

One of his most basic skills...but it'd get the job done. Sparks flew from his feet, burning out the soles of his boots as they rocketed him forward in conjunction with the effects evoked by Cthugha's mystic tattoo, sending him skating across asphalt as friction was all but eliminated and he barreled straight into the opponent with right fist bearing forward, intent on smashing the guy's head right back through the dumpster.

He didn't want to hear the buzzer, the press, the ambulance sirens, the EMT asking him if he was okay and in the same tone reassuring him--no, herself--that'd he'd be okay.

He didn't want to stand, fumble out a cigarette, and swagger merrily away from the bloodshed left behind him as Cthugha's Livid Flames spiked into his breaks and reset his broken bones, festering in him like the ******** plague on a sinking ship, carrying him away from the mortal wounds those less "endowed" have no defense against or hope to escape from.

No...he wanted to sleep. His head hit the wall, and he prayed it was lights out. Prayed to whoever was listening that he wouldn't wake up.

We watched our friends grow up together

And we saw them as they fell

Some of them fell into Heaven

Some of them fell into Hell

--The Pogues,

"Rainy Night in Soho"

~Fin

Something hit him in the gut--a fist, from that far?--a blood balloon, fortified by bones and backed by fire, that ruptured against an abdomen he'd only find out was aching later.

The air ripped out of his lungs, but he stopped himself from bending over it, told himself to just keep running till the end. He couldn't stop.

Blood squeezed out to the sides--splashing over a shirt in torn fragments, pasted to his body by the grime--some of it Kichiro's, some of it his. It'd have been stupid of him to propel himself forward with his fist extended or anything. No; it was a last-ditch effort, but not one he'd waste or throw out in vain.

The cocked fist would slam into the downed Kichiro's head as it was meant to, released at that crucial moment when he got within range, and discharged all the energy welling up within it. The dumpster behind the man's head exploded in a hail of smoking shrapnel. Not nearly with as much force behind it as he'd half-hoped, for he was all but stopped by the time of impact.

He looked down at his steaming, synthetic fist, the entire arm blackened by a coat of soot. Then his legs gave out and he fell beside the guy who'd stopped him, propping his head up against the dumpster's charred carcass, his chest rising in ragged breaths above the ashy holes in his gut as his left arm stretched out limply to the side in a pool of its own fluids.

He fumbled out a cigarette after all. Turned his head to the right. Most of the yellow saturation had left his eyes, but they somehow managed to shine through the mess that'd become of his features, and he looked for anything left of Kichiro.

"...Smoke?"

He listened for the people and machinery to start moving. The rain washed over them both.

With shaking fingers, he lifted the pack and plucked another out with his mouth. Cigs were all bent up and scorched, but they were still cigs.

He popped it between Kichiro's lips and lit it up for him, then fell back into the embrace of sweet nicotine, smoke twisting away from the long cylinder jutting out of his own mouth, and let the cool rain splash his face in ruddy streaks.

Let it be known unto all, thine Judges hath made their decree:

Streets of Durem

• The Warriors - 13.778

• Team Lu Bu - 14.833