Ye Olde Tavern

There was a soft crack of steel, as something made it's presence, and weight, known.

Stepping forth with a regal gait, and mantle that covered a towering form, the Judge took his position to the side.

The HoH Judges are the supreme enforcers of tournament law for the duration of each match. Each Judge wields extraordinary legal power in his or her own stage over fighters. In addition to functioning as "legal administrators", they are also charged with the task of guarding the spectators who may be around the stage.

Every Judge has archives on every participant on file, and can simulate the powers of a variety of them in order to target its opponent's weaknesses. This was due to the data collected via fighters, in which DNA samples, skin samples, tissue, blood, etc-- were all analyzed and broken down once a FIGHTER came into contact with the actual wearer.

With the appearance of the Judge, the match was slated to begin.

He sat at the bar, or rather slumped, in a glaze, his mind awash with memories of last year, his team's fights in this very same place playing out like scenes on a video reel.

A peculiar crack roused him from the stupor, and his yellow-eyed gaze lifted, a callused left hand brushing away the few greasy strands that hung over his bandana. That familiar, moist texture already coated the glass of rum'n'coke...had he really been here that long?

At his barstool post, seated in torn jeans and a black shirt with the sleeves ripped off that showed off strands of muscle and broad shoulders well, boots on the floor, he turned, thick eyebrows pitched a little devilishly. They only furled at the steel behemoth that was the source of the noise, what could only pass for his opponents, and the fact that his own teammates--as per the usual--were nowhere in sight.

With no significant equipment visible on his person, except for a locket and chain around his throat, a few rings in his ears, a bent cig jutting out of his mouth, and that dull, metallic right arm, the mechanics of his stout neck unfolded as he swiveled his head back around to order another drink.

Kurashu was one step ahead of the guy. His 'drink' consisted of a bottle of some highly-alcoholic beverage with a rag stuffed in the top.

Flick.

Dreslin bouncing into the bar made for the perfect target. He slipped backwards off his stool, the beer bottle careening over his head to smash into a cluster of rattling pots and pans--the cue for bartenders to duck and patrons still in the bar to scramble for cover under overturned tables and stools--as Kurashu spun to the left, his scarred face ephemerally illuminated by something burning as his right hand reared overhead, and sent his makeshift Molotov cocktail spinning toward the obnoxious man. Inwardly, he grimaced; he'd never know what it felt like to have flaming hot shards embedded in a big pair of tits, and in retrospect, almost felt sorry for putting that on this guy.

Heaven or Hell

Ye Olde Forum Tavern BRAWL

Round 1

Let's Rock!

1

"Gruh!"

Bootheels churned on dust-covered floorboards as he dove and rolled out of the way to his left, the table breaking against the bar behind him as a few planks went flipping into his midst. He came out of the evasive maneuvre in a crouch, right hand flinging back as he caught a stool by the leg and swept it up before him like a round wooden shield, walking toward Dreslin.

"Surrender now, and I promise you won't have to find out what your left ball tastes like," he seethed in a low-key growl.

2

The judge, amused, stood in an off corner of the tavern. While being everywhere and seeing everything he'd never be in the way; he'd move along and keep from interrupting.

Normally he'd issue warnings for sportsmanship, language, and taunting, but this was a tavern for Christ's sake.

Dreslin backed up a bit and proceeded to kick a nearby stool fiercely at ground level. The idea being that the kicked stool would go under the 'lofting' stool and try to trip Kurashu while he was advancing. He sure as hell didn't know the capabilities of mr. iron hand, but he had a bad feeling about it.

( 4 )

His kicking leg returned to the floor quickly a bit in front of his right. He bent his knees and used his left ( free ) hand to fast and powerfully palm strike thrust into the seat part of the stool while Kurashu was still in mid-air. A punch would try to destroy the stool, but his intention was to have the palm thrust push the 'lofting' stool itself into his opponent for a nice knock-the-wind-plus-possible-knockaway attack.

Since Kurashu was in mid-air, he would have limited mobility.

( 5 )

As such, he bent his body forward some while sliding his back leg back a bit and flexibly proceeded to do a low sweep to his left side with his front foot. The sweep's level would bring dreslin's upper body, aka the target of the big swing, under the current stool-swinging arc and a bit over the front left leg. His front leg would be brought to his left beginning a somewhat arc. Since Kurashu had placed his left boot were it was, his foot was prey to the fierce sweeping trap. Add in the motion from the swinging arc and Kurashu would be facing a potentially very hurtful fall from offbalanceness. With damage going from his lower spine upwards to the back of his head. ( 6 )

The sweep haad succeeded a bit, but not without a bit of a price. The stool didn't hit full-on due to the bodily nature of the sweep, but the side of Dreslin's face met with the 2 legs of the bottom portion of the stool. Breaking the legs and sending the stool flying back his face. The legs themselves didn't do much hurt/damage to Dreslin thanks to his callous (sp?) body and his martial arts training, besides start to extremely piss him off. Dreslin body stopped as the opponent hit the floor. He stepped back a bit, his right leg closer to Kurashu.

With a simple raising of his staff hand and a little diagonal aiming, he proceeded to fast and hard thrust one of the endpoints of his staff towards Kurashu's stomach. Kurashu was down and taking a bit of time in trying to get back up. Might as well try a not-so-nice poke at him.

( 7 )

Which is why it was a try and not a full blown out attempt. As Kurashu's hands entered the proximity of the staff, he pulled it to his forward away from Kurashu's proximity of grasping. Making the grab miss while another thrust was tried at the bottom of the man's left knee. Intention to break it if the try was successful while Kurashu's attention was elsewhere.

( 8 )

Hands clawed the air...and didn't stop moving. He'd be damned if this guy was going to loom there and poke at him all night, let alone not do anything productive.

Even as he grabbed for the staff, he rocked from his haunches to upper back, anticipating forward movement from Dreslin--but when he missed and realized his opponent was ever content to stand back, the final decision stood: it was all frontward from here.

Both legs swung out. His left foot circled clockwise, evading the staff, the right passing under in the same direction only to shoot out with a powerful pump for the heel of his boot to plow into the hand with which Dreslin gripped the big stick. His right fist came crashing down, sending a loose plank flipping into the air as two rattled nails were ejected across the room. His upside-down body spun forward from the off-keel kip--imagine a breakdancer spinning clockwise, from his back to his head, only violently enough to propel himself through the air--and for a moment, he seemed to hang there like a flailing fish-

Until it all came together.

Like a torpedo spiraling dangerously out of control, he vaulted into his opponent's midst, legs bent back with chest and face toward Dreslin, his right side having spun into the opponent to switch with the left in his inverted one-eighty. His left hand whipped out, snagging the plank from the air, and in that single, awkward bound, he bridged the gap between them. These acrobatics and flair weren't exactly of Kurashu's nature, but something had to be done here. It all happened fast, in the precious instant Dreslin sent the staff forward and was left reeling from the miss, his arm being jettisoned away from Kurashu's forceful kick, and his downed opponent's sudden explosion.

He kept on spinning--and with a sickening smack, the nails still lodged in the end of the board would bite into the meat of Dreslin's left thigh. Then two became one, and as his form bowled into the adversary's, it was up to the wind where they went next.

He bit down on his cig and awaited the crash.

8

The staff hand lifts upward some to avoid the first kick. His opponent's preparations foor his maneuver were all too obvious minus the plank and the crash attempt. In response to the oncoming plank and attempting crash, he bent his knees some and leaned forward a bit. Thus, would fuel for Dreslin's left leg to do a massively fierce backwards kick to Kurashu's mid section in his mid-air manuever. The lean forward and knees bent could only provide a little prep boost to the power behind the kick. Fortunately, Kurashu provided momentum of his own to help the kick.

The said kick would send Kurashu flying across the bar, possibly through some stools, tables, and into the flames. As for the plank and nails, they crashed into Dreslin's robe. However, the plank broke into pieces and fell to the floor. Dreslin would be fine. The nails from plank would also be a sight unusual. The nails themselves were into pieces. Not even a dent was put into the robe. Revealing that it wasn't just casual wear.

( 9 )

Depends upon angle of kick and all that such. Point is staff is gonna stay in his hand, pain or no pain.

Onto the main action..

Dreslin mistimed his kick with left foot. The body knocked into him into his left side to the close to the center. Kurashu would find himself stopping n mid-air to come down to the ground beneath the collision. As for Dreslin, he would be knocked 'sideways' as well as offbalance. Dreslin stepped very awkwardly as he tried to regain his balance and footing. He eventually reached a stool which he grabbed with his free hand to help keep him still. Other than offbalancedness and awkwardness, he seemed fine. Even his robe.

( 10 )

(( Stopping the post here till you post. More than likely you would have an attack happen by the time he reaches said stool. ))

Dreslin had just righted himself when a sudden surge of pain shot throughout his body . He looked on to see a plank with a couple of nails lodged into his foot. The nails stopped a little deep into the bone of his foot. Not pinning the foot to the floor, but the bone of the foot was still penetrated a bit. It was no pleasant experience. He grit his teeth to help ignore the pain while reaching for a large full bottle of 'Sex on the beach' on the nearby table to throw at Kurashu's dazed head in revenge. Swearing could be heard from a random spectator as his drink, that he forgot to bring with him to safety, was used.

If the bottle hit Kurashu on the head, it was good. If not, oh well. The main thing from it would be that the bottle would break apart and send alcohol over the ground and partly over Kurashu. The flames on his body and surroundings would come to the alcohol and fire would spread over the rest of his body faster.

( 11 )

With throwing the bottle, Dreslin had a good enough warning of said charge. Having already been able to right himself, he quickly stepped to Kurashu's left and out of the way of said charge. Leaving Kurashu to go into a portion of the established 'balance' stool and the adjoining table and whatever else in the way. Dreslin would not leave without a parting gift however. During the stepping out of the way, he brought his staff towards Kurashu's legs to try to trip him midcharge.

12

Part of Dreslin's training was to sense oncoming blows, whether they were see-able by eyes or not as well as reading of body movements. He simply moved his head back while the nails went past him through the air, harmless. This would place the left arm to be vulnerable to Dreslin's free hand. It simply quickly rising up and and trying to grab the arm near the wrist. Back of his hand facing Dreslin's right.

13

He moved his wounded foot closer to his other foot to have the sweep attack miss. As far as the fist coming at him went, that was surprisingly simple to deal with thanks to Kurashu's strike path. Dreslin raised his 'free hand' up which would raise Kurashu's wrist up, which would send the metallic fist upwards as well. Over Dreslin's head.

Now the trip attempt earlier would place Dreslin's staff in back of Kurashu. With a swift and powerful pull of Dreslin's staff hand to his left, he would send the staff crashing toward's the middle of Kurashu's back to a specific point in a horizontal fashion . The pressure point at the third lumbar vertebra. A good enough strike there can cause result in broken bones and paralysis (according to the source site of said pressure point). The intention of the staff to cause paralysis and such to end this fight.

14

His defense foiled. There was very few options left for Dreslin to do. So he moved his head to his right side and continued to do so midblow. He didn't completely avoid the blow, but he didn't take the full force behind it either. The blow would hit and slide across the side of Dreslin's face. A bit of Dreslin's jaw would be disfigured while several of his teeth would be loosened. Not to mention that it hurt like hell. With Kurashu's hands partially fumbled up like this, there might be a opportunity for Dreslin to strike.

With his staff hand, he made a fierce punch (still holding the staff) to a specific spot of Kurashu's solar plexus. The staff pivoting along Kurashu in accordance. This kind of strike could cause disruption of breathing or even unconconsciousness.

15

Dreslin stopped his attempt for a solar plexus shot when he felt his head be pressured against. He merely resisted with equal force in the opposite direction while turning his head sideways a bit. The headbutt would be turned into a crashing of heads to together at the lips for a nice big ol' kiss. In regards to the elbow to the chest, it was met with equal force in the opposite direction as well with an addition. His hand would pull at the wrist down and slightly turned inward. Having Kurashu's own plank start to come down on the back of his own head.

16.

So much for this head-on s**t. Dreslin altered his head to turn the smashed lips and missing teeth into a heavily damaged nose. His body moved by instinct from here. His body would shift his fall to his right. His Feet would try to wrap around the other guys legs, since they were between them. Wherein Dreslin would continue to turn his body and leg to get Kurashu to fall to the ground with him. If Dreslin was going to fall, he would try to take Kurashu with him.

And with that, Dreslin got up a bit and shook his head a bit. The kick missed barely, but it didn't matter. This sht was over. "Milk over here, please. Nice fight."

He brought his arm up for the thumbs up sign. This character's fate will be left up to Brightdreamer's post since the author has to sign off for the time being.

(( A minor grammatical edit. It did not change the nature of my post in any way, just a simple error.))

The man's sinews rippled at the prospect of participating in glorious combat. He stepped forth to take the reigns from his partner, smiling warmly at Brightdreamer, his first opponent in the tournament. The inner fires of the 6'4", 235 lbs. Italian began to circulate with anticipation and excitement. His hazel optics flickered with adrenaline as shoulder-length auburn mane bounced with his journey across the terra.

Con Fuoco, With Fire, they say, and such truths would be evident to all of the occupants of the bar. The man was literally glowing with energy, adrenaline, and excitement.

"Yes, I will be your opponent. May the best fighter win," Jader spoke, booming voice echoing about the bar as if he were speaking into a microphone. Any normal fighter would be intimidated, but Con Fuoco knew not to underestimate his opponent. He could tell this woman was ready for combat, and despite the Italian's size, power, and energy, he knew she would not step down.

Looks like his opponent wasn't wasting time in her assault, and such haste on her part would ultimately lead to her downfall. The sound of the pitchfork penetrating the surface of the table eminated about the unusually quiet bar as Brightdreamer's form was taken to the air, using only the trident as a support.

The battle had begun, and no time would be wasted in Con Fuoco's counter-attack measures. He would bounce his form to the fortitudes of his of his right foot, swinging his body with the turn so her heels passed harmlessly by him. He was now facing those feminine legs, and almost mechanically he wrapped his powerful left arm about her knees. Jader's bicep bulged against those legs, and like a vicegrip he would clamp down upon their mobility.

His right arm had already cocked back, digits curling into a tightly bound fist at her exposed abdomen. The punch was released from its chamber, and like a wrecking ball would crash into her ribs.

Jader growled a bit as he saw the sturdy wooden table fly in between him and his intended target. Momentum had to be halted immediately, but even if such could be performed, it wouldn't save the Italian from the merciless assault of wood flying towards his countenance.

Lower machinations kicked in, feet briskly carrying him backwards to avoid the flying table. The large man grinned, feeling his buttocks bump against the edge of a table behind him, and he swiftly turned his upper body, powerful arms grabbing hold of the table and lifting it above his head. He flipped the table about and held it in front of him, the top of the piece of furniture facing Brightdreamer. One hand secured itself on the top edge of the table while the other held firmly the bottom. His powerful lower sinews then charged like a mad bull, slamming the entire tablle directly into Brightdreamer's table.

The force and impact directed behind the charge would send the awkwardly positioned woman along with her table and trident flying into the bar.

(( OOC: My teammate pointed out to me that I haven't been numbering my posts. I apologize and will start numbering them.))

Ah, the overconfidence of some of his opponents never ceased to amaze the large fist fighter. For what hope could a woman of her small stature hope to accomplish against the momentous charge of a much larger and stronger opponent. The trident still held its barbs within the table Brightdreamer had initially taken hold of her with hybrid weapon, but the barbs could only travel so far before being halted by the connection of their beings against the base of her staff. The barbs only penetrated the second table held my Con Fuoco only slightly, given the length of the barbs were that of a traditional trident and could not even begin to hope to reach Jader.

This could be verified by the exact positioning of his body. His arms were completely straightened and locked, left hand grabbing the top of the table, right grabbing the bottom. His body was distanced from the table itself because of this, and common mathematics show that the barbs of the tridents simply did not have enough length to reach the muscular countenance of his being.

As such was explained, Jader would laugh loudly at the vain attempts to disembowel his form, and his charge would be carried through. His opponent senselessly underestimated distance, force of impact, rate of travel, and basically every mathematical flaw that could be made in her endeavors.

The man charged, giving a powerful push with both arms, and directed the trajectory of his push slightly upwards. This would cause her trident to bend within the table it had grasped its barbs upon, and possibly snap her weapon while the impact itself would rivet the smaller fighter's body with the force.

(3)

The charge was pushing her back. If she tried to alter her weapon any, there would be chaos. She noticed a slight shift in the table positions to account for the opponent's new trajectory. SHe responded to the by push equal pressure downward on her front hand on her weapon. This would cause the table to keep in place, but her being pushing back had to be dealt with. At the time, she remained resisted by applying resistance via 'standing there' was only applied resistance that to said standing.

So she started to push back towards Jader with more force than said 'standing still.' This would cause her to slow down towards a stop. However, there wasn't enough room for a stop. However, she got lucky that she came to slow enough for the wall behind her to account for the rest of the charge to be 'still.'

4

Pulling himself right-side up with the greatest of ease, Rui Xiu wrapped his arms about the length of the support beam he had been using to suspend himself above the action, witnessing the end of their first fight and the beginning of the second. It would seem that Con Fuoco was taking too long to dispose of an opponent Xiu deemed incompetent, but he knew the former victim turned teammate was rather inept when it came to fighting. Inching his way along the beam in a manner similar to a caterpillar, a slight grating sound arose from his hands as dull iron bands; that adorned his middle fingers and attached the cloth of his sheer hadagi to the back of his hands; slid across the beam's surface. Xiu's mannerisms were constantly in flux, varying from moment to moment so that at one point he mimicked a cat while another he moved like a slithering serpent.

Minuscule beams of light pierced the darkness as Rui Xiu found one of the few openings that led from the tavern's innards to the less than hospitable hollows of its roof. Relinquishing his hold with his hands, Xiu's torso swung down slowly with his back facing the direction he had just come from. Pressing his palms against the dark center that was surrounded by a quadrate of light, Xiu silently shifted the square while separating his legs, causing him to land deftly in the center of a dimly lit corridor lined with barrels of assorted alcohol. In the dark, Xiu had apparently moved at an angle which he had not felt due to the amount of time he had spent upside down, but his senses immediately returned to him as he scrutinized the hallway, noting its low ceiling and countless gaps in which his diminutive form would easily fit and be pressed against the moist, stone walls of the corridor.

A soft sound permeated through the darkness, its pitch resonating within Xiu's ears as he turned partially towards the source, his profile visible in its direction while what he felt to be theatrical lighting passed over the antipodal hues of Xiu's Rui Shi mask; its majority was a lustrous argent color while the mythological beast's facial features had been detailed in a dazzling damask which was dulled in the lack of light.

Rui Xiu shifted the majority of his weight onto his right leg as it slipped beneath him, his bare toes directed towards the wall at a forty-five degree angle. As his weight was held comfortably atop the rear leg, his left leg moved forward, held at an angle with the knee slightly bent while his toes pointed in the same direction as those of his right, the side of his puttee pressing against the stone beneath. Xiu began to slouch as his torso rested in a manner that appeared to weigh heavily upon his form, as if he had forgotten about the noise and sought nothing more to do than slouch. His arms rose, although the movements were languid, his elbows pressed against his side, his outstretched fingers reached for the stars while his hands were level with his sternum.

(( Since we're allowed to have these fights held at the same time, I hope to finish it fairly quickly. I'll be able to get on for five hours straight tomorrow, starting at 5 PM EST and ending at 10. ))

She didn't have to hear him be as loud as a freckin' siren. She was right there afterall. Oh boy. Hulk smash, now? Her grip on her weapon was pretty well. Afterall, she had to use it to fend off a charge that could have flattened her. She turned the momentum from the smash on her weapon into her own as she whirled around towards his left a bit within her limited room and proceeded to thrust the angelic-looking-thingy end towards the opponent's throat. Making use of the momentum provided by Jader. The endpoint of that part of the staff would reach the area of Jader's throat before the "claw" would reach the area of Bright's face which had altered position to some of Jader's left due to "Hulk Smash" attack. Her right side now facing the man.

The strike to the throat can disrupt breathing and cause Jader to seemingly choke for a bit and gasp heavily for breathe for a bit.

5

It would be at the grabbing of her staff that she would lower the top of her body towards the Italian and charge in a diving-like manner inbetween the man's legs. Her hands remaining on her weapon. From there, she would continue charging towards the back of him. This would cause his firm grip to work against him as he would flip over with a crash of his back to the ground. Her charge would basically pull the weapon to pull his arm to pull his body in towe towards him suddenly looking at the pretty lights above. Atleast, if this was successful.

6

It would be kind hard for her to not notice the raising of the foot, especially considering that she was RIGHT THERE in site of it, looking at the feet and lower body. It would also be hard for her to stop the 'glide' underneath him. So a simple change to the her charge could possibly be the only thing she could do. She raised her head level a bit. This would be so that while she would go underneath, a good portion of the top of her head would crash into his nuts before said foot would be dropped onto the back of her head. This would also be somewhat effective considering the Italian 'opened' himself up for the change.

7

Due to the nature of the said charge and the nature of the punch, the punch would land on top of her skull, yet not hit with full impact intended. Afterall, her head wasn't stopped from going forward. The punch would hit the top of her skull and 'slide' across the back-top of her head. This would be until his punch would be going toward open air. The hit to the groin would still happen though she would be forced 'diving' to the low to the ground a bit to being on hands and needs after going through the man's legs. Hands' still holding onto the weapon.

So by concentrating Jader on said punch, Bright would suffer a painful crack on the noggin' while Jader not only gets a nut shot, but also suffer from said flip from earlier.

8

((Your teammate is still sitting at the bar sweety. Just letting you know.))

Bright quickly rolled out of the way of the bottles away from the man. None of the splattered alcohol landing on her. If one looked deep enough through her hair, they could see a large bruise amongst the follicles from the crack on the head. She quickly got to her feet with her weapon in her left hand. She returned Jader's offer for a drink with a stool hurled at his legs.

"Have a seat!"

9

With the table, she holds the trident-end of her weapon out to lodge the table onto it to make her safe from its attack. For the oncoming attacks of the stools, she uses the table to defend/absorb the stools while redirecting the stools away from her to preserve said table and keep in tact as possible. For her counterattack, she aimed her trident end at the man, stood on one of her legs and proceeded to deliver a powerful kick to the table itself. Launching it at back at Jader. Whereupon she would return to a fighting stance position.

10

Of course with all the throwing and knocking over tables and chairs at Jader's side. Lots and alcohol would be all over the place, except for small spots on bright's side that weren't near here. She looked around a bit. Afterall, a bar was bound to have a box of matches somewhere. She found such a box near an overturned table, carefully grabbing a handful of matches, struck them, and threw them past the bar a bit away from Jader. At first, it would look like it was in vain, if not for the fire that has ignited and was quickly spreadly towards Jader and threatens to set him ablaze.

11

(( I believe I'm set to face off against John_Trio, even though we're in seperate parts of the tavern. Does he edit his post to place himself near me, that way we don't eat up the seventeen post limit? If so, once he does so, he can notify me so that we can get things underway. ))

The faint sound he had heard moments ago was followed by that of approaching footsteps, their sonance reverberating down the passage and meeting Xiu's form. The delineation of his opponent became apparent as Rui Xiu caught sight of him peripherally, his gaze moving over the vague visage, taking note of the man's stance as well as his height, weight based on sight and extent of his reach as he poured himself what may be his last drink for quite some time.

Xiu's chest, which had been rising and falling at a slow pace, suddenly stopped as he inhaled deeply and held the breath. The easiest way to defeat an opponent, aside from simply being a better fighter, was to strategize continuously and to be fluid in one's movements and one's thoughts. As this notion ran across his mind, he chuckled internally at the fact that he was contradicting his own advice as he remained rigid in his stance, breath caught in his chest as he bent the elbow of his left hand, bringing it towards him.

His taper-esque fingers skipped along the surface of the modified baldric he wore, the thick strap of leather cutting across his chest diagonally from his left shoulder down to his right hip. Hidden within the leather at intermittent intervals were needles crafted by Xiu himself, a weapon he had picked up in his youth that, when used correctly, could defeat an opponent from afar before things became too messy. These were no regular needles, though. They had been hollowed out while either side of the tips bore serrated edges with a seemingly invisible sheet of metal plugging up either tip. This metal would, when the needle was plunged into the opponent's form, be forced back and create an impromptu syringe, increasing the amount of blood lost.

Slipping two of those needles between his fore and middle finger as he surreptitiously passed his hand over his baldric, Xiu exhaled and simultaneously shot his arm out and to the side, sending the needles flying towards his opponent at an alacritous rate, their tips poised to strike the man's bicep.

Characters unknown to Xiu materialized upon the broad surface of what appeared to be nothing more than a sign protestors from his home land used to give voice to their opinions before being quickly quieted by the oppressive faction that controlled the land. Dismissing the sight of the characters before him, Rui Xiu adjusted his footing so that although his posture was the same, his veiled countenance was facing that of his technologically advanced foe.

As Xiu had shifted his stance, his left arm which had been extended towards his side moved in conjunction with his form so that it returned to its original position, reflecting that of his right hand. It would seem that this beggar who sought alms would find them in the heat of battle. Assuredly, that sign would fetch quite the price once he incapacitated his opponent and took it as his own. Perhaps he was filled with other amusing gadgetry that Xiu could sell in order to fund his less than legal activities.

His shoulders began to rise and fall, their pace steadily increasing as he would await the larger man's movements. After all, Xiu had struck first, so he would allow his opponent to do something more than simply move his sign around as if he were nothing but an oaf. The corners of his lips rose slightly as the very fringes of his form would begin to oscillate.

(2)

Con_Fuoco Wrote:

Jader watched Brightdreamer, eyebrow lofted towards the heavens as she fetched a box of matches. Did the woman think Jader was mentally retarded and had no clue what she was doing? Obviously so, her hand fishing into the box to retrieve several matches in hopes of setting him aflame.

Con Fuoco's lower machinations pounded the floor as he dashed towards her, his opponent's hand securing the matches and bringing them across the side of the box to light. He raised his right arm, fingers cracking in anticipation as he reared the appendage back. She lit the matches at the same exact moment he reached her, and Jader would bring his right fist crashing into her left jaw with incredible force in a downwards hook. The trajectory of the fist was directed slightly at a downwards angle in hopes of sending her to the floor with a thud.

11

She thought it pretty rude to interrupt a match lighting. In answer to the oncoming punch, she blocked it with the angelic-looking-thingy end of her weapon with her hand holding it very firmly. Martial artists would suffer less damage than Jader from the block, because deal with breaking things with their bodies on a normal basis, such as the classic Karate chopping a block of wood. The durability of the weapon was similar to steel. Jader's charge would provide a boost to his power behind said punch. Her weapon wasn't dented a bit, which would leave the feedback on Jader's punch to deal with.

When something is punched, it 'reacts back' in accordance to the material. If you punch a brick and it doesn't break any, you are left with quite a hurting hand, depending upon how hard you tried to hit it. In this case, Jader could have ****** up his own fingers. To add icing onto the cake of smashness, Bright would try to stab the matches into said possibly ****** up hand, to add lots of burn with the hurting.

12

Jader would grin widely as his fist connected into her staff, but no trace of pain etched its way across his expression. He was perfectly fine. This can be explained by Con Fuoco's upbringing, which was not that of some pampered schoolboy. His knuckles were hardened with decades of rigorous training. His body was a metaphorical machine, carefully designed for incredible stamina, strength, and durability. In fact, the guy punched a steel plate daily to improve his threshhold of pain and harden his knuckles significantly.

Jader's hand almost instantaneously switched his closed fist to an open palm, digits wrapping about her staff and gripping it tightly as she sent the lit matches towards the same hand. His other hand would be sent forward swiftly, powerful fingers wrapping about her wrist like the jaws of a pitbull. He gave a slight push with his arm, twisting his hand so it would change the directory of her match attack to send the matches directly into her cheek.

12

The staff hit not working out as planned was disappointing. As for the matches, she moved her face sideways a bit while blowing at the matches toward's Jader's face. The fires wouldn't reach him, but the smoke would and likely get into his eyes. All this being a distraction for her attempt to fiercely right knee him in the groin while he was concentrating on the upper body portion of the battle.

The matches themselves would miss her cheek.

Jader quirked an eyebrow in silent curiousity as Brightdreamer's cheeks puffed to blow out the matches. His eyes descended towards the floor, careful optics calculating the slightest muscle twitch. Her hips would have to twist slightly to bring up the knee, of which Jader would counter with his own knee, slamming it roughly into her kneecap.

His head then reared back a good distance, almost to the point of staring upside down behind him, allowing the smoke to filter along through the air before it floated along above their heads towards the ceiling. Jader's left hand still maintained a firm grip on her wrist, and his right hand held her staff securely. Suddenly, neck muscles tightening significantly, he brought his forehead to smash directly into her nose.

13

Bright would use his knee to help lift her up via her knee pressing against it. She would try to crash her other knee into his groin while he prepped for his headbutt. As for his headbutt in general, unless he changed the course of his headbutt drastically, it would meet a fist coming to meet him at nose-level. The source of the fist being her weapon hand abandoning her weapon.

14

The power readings would go off in his mechanical eye and shows it reactions to his 'blob' of force as the 'blob' was slowly giving way to the increased force as the air built up. John simply reinforced 'blob' so that it would resist with as much as force as the man's arm was being increased to. The 'blob' would slow to a stop as a result. Resisting the man's increased power in turn. John while doing so proceeded to start run forward to put some distance between as he held the man's hand in place.

Bright pushed her knee against his and slightly downwards as well. Result have his own leg crash into the other to disrupt his balance since he was at an angle. She couldn't change the trajectory of her fist very well, but that didn't mean she couldn't bend her arm so that the man would be crashing his head into her elbow.

15

The processes had begun, and commands were given to the soldiers of his infrastructure. His right hand still maintained its firm grip upon his staff, and now that she had released it, so would he, giving a slight push to send it rolling away from them. Jader's right arm then flew into her elbow, powerful digits grasping the limb as he continued his headbutt endeavors, slamming the top of his head directly into her chest.

His right leg maintained its fortitude in her attempts of knocking his knee into his other leg, which would also be impossible considering the trajectory of his second knee, which was coming in from the side to collide into the right of her kneecap.

15

(( I don't believe you'll have a problem with my post, seeing as how you're unable to move your sign in enough time to block my hand, even with it being behind your back. ))

Due to the weight of the man's sign and the lack of speed he wielded his weapon with, the palm of Xiu's hand whisked past its lower (which would be upper if the weapon was right-side up) extremity, his fingers widening at the very last moment to increase the amount of damage he would cause.

Since the man had focused his mental energies elsewhere, surely he would be unable to summon yet another gelatinous orb to block his strike. If his palm were to hit cleanly, Xiu would roll his hips even further to generate just enough power to perhaps cause the man to topple over as he ran away from Xiu.

(7)

EDIT: It's now 9:23 PM. I'll most likely be logging off in half an hour.

It was at this time that she did the only defense she could muster against the headbutt to her chest. She moved her upper body a little to her left. This would have the headbutt land in her huge breast. As ridiculous as the defense was, the breast would cushion the blow some down to a near equivalent of the crack on the noggin' that she got earlier. Her attack from there during said breast-chest pain would be bending her face forward to try a bite on his right ear since his face was right there.

16