CI Tanker

CI TANKER SHIP

Creation Industries provides yet another fighting venue for the Heaven or Hell tournament. Competitors fight on the deck of a tanker ship on the open sea. The deck hatch is open, revealing the stacks of storage containers in the hold.

Terrain

General - The massive (Hah!) tanker is two hundred feet long and sixty feet wide. Many of the hatches to the holds are left open, filled with empty crates. Wonder why they are there.

Weapons - Crates, mechanical equipment.

Bonus Effects - Getting thrown off the boat into he water constitutes a ringout.

+++Dzan was there. Smoking on an lho-stick near the bridge area. He merely leaned up against the side as the blue smoke spurted out of his nostrils. He didn't care what was going on at the moment. He knew people were showing up. Hell, he had shown up before it had truly left the place. He knew at least one of his other teammates had done the same. Already the helicopters were swarming the area to get the camera work. It seemed like they were up against another team that was considered the underdogs. How many had they put down so far? He wondered as he merely took another drag from the lho-stick protruding from his lips.

EARLIER

+++The man had walked through the areas and through the media swarms. They were questioning him. He'd merely sigh. He did promise them a short interview. Thus, before any of the major stuff would happen, for he was early by far. He'd take their questions. Of course he'd dodge anything that meant truly anything to the people that was rooting for his team.

+++"Can you tell us who you're up against?!"

+++"Some underdog team. Hopefully they won't care to miss their body parts." A polite chuckle erupted from the media crowd. They knew he wasn't completely kidding.

+++"Do you predict this match to end in the first two matches?!"

+++"Frankly I couldn't give a ******** style="font-weight:bold;">" Of course that last word ended up on a major beep on news casts other than HBO.

+++"Are you surprised your team has made it this far?!"

+++"Actually, yes. I was expecting for us to have already killed a b***h, but I heard some idiot already got that one...twice."

+++"Do you expect to win this tournament?!"

+++"Nope...Now I must be off." With that last statement he walked up the boaring ramp and took his spot. Lighting the lho-stick he had pulled from the case and everything as the ship slowly left port. Which brought him to the current time.

The boat was speeding towards the bow of the tanker and Kain was at the head with a boot against the forward bar, sword, jean vest under arm, his back becoming damp with blood.

Kain took the last drag on his cig and then ate it, washing it down with a can of beer one of his fans had been saving. Booze and cigarettes, were there a better breakfast he didn't know of it.

Meal complete he saluted the 'captain' and released his leathery wings from his back. The blood sprayed out from behind him and tainted the water, if sharks dwelled in this sea they'd hopefully be drawn. With a great flap he expelled the excess of red from his wings and then hopped off the bow of his boat.

Taking swift flight upwards to meet the edge of the HUEG ship and set foot on its dirtied asphalt. The Devil strode forward to with heavy steps and darkened visage to the center of the ships great width and a ways down its length.

::Booya.::

The great piles of freight containers placed many of the boxes directly side-to-side in groupings with large enough pathways between for motorized equipment to come and go.

As Gamma was standing at the precipice of his own open container, he reached out and clasped his free hand around one of the inside locking mechanisms of the door, simply pulling himself up and out. Placing the mace on the top of the container as he lifted himself free, Gamma would emerge on top of the stack in what was probably one of the higher vantages in the cargo area of the ship.

Boot soles on the roof of an empty an open cargo box would send out echoes as Gamma's footfalls became more rapid. Turning into a sprint down the length of the container and then the length of the adjoined container neighboring it.

Must have been in a hurry to stomp some a**.

Deitric climbed up the side of the boat from his own ride, a small, speedy looking vessel that had a giant Ψ plastered on the side of the vehicle. The warrior pulled himself up with a grunt, surveying the area that they'd be fighting in. The strip club had been a little much, but this took the cake - so far, at least. If they went on to the next round, Deitric had to wonder where they'd be fighting.

Camera flashes snapped around the warrior in his odd dress - over his normal clothing, even his leather biker jacket, he wore a thick, gray artic-weather jacket with the hood pulled over his head and a pair of shades framing and obscuring his eyes. Someone shoved a mic into his face beneath the fur-lined hood.

"What do you think about your loss? Has your hand healed, what about your burns?" the reporter asked hurriedly, his camera man standing behind him, focusing his lens on the hooded warrior.

"What do I think?" Deitric turned the question back as he reached up to pull back the hood. With a rustle of cloth, the heavy, arctic-weather jacket had been pulled off and sent flying off the side of the boat, the pair of shades low on the bridge of his sharp nose. Where there had once been a long, thick mane of black hair was now a tribal mohawk which traveled down the length of his head, ending in two roached braids, one on each side of his neck. Some sort of icy blue war-paint streaked his cheeks and over his eyes and spiked down his cheeks like the wings of a thunderbird. Intricate designs in black crawled along the sides of his head, like the claws of a pouncing animal. Some of the skin on his cheek was still pale beneath the paint, showing that his burns had healed - mostly.

"I think that win or lose, I just want an opponent who isn't a coward. All of the men I have fought in this tournament are just that - cowards. Not clever, not sly, just running scared or trying to play tricks on me. I have heard this team is more staunch, a pack of true fighters. I hope this is so," Deitric stated bluntly, glaring right into the camera as he reached up to remove the shades tossing them to the news anchor as he made his way over to where his teammates were.

[ Adjacent Railing ]

Jim looked down at the Heaven or Hell match that was happening on his ship. "Wow." He said in wonderment.

With this sudden diversion, Jim lost his grip on one of the containers. Luckily, it was nowhere near any of the contestants. Instead, the container crashed into the waves of the ocean. Ten thousand monkeys perished.

Subsequently, a stray cable cut Jim in half.

Fierach Wrote:

"Screw you Kain" James's voice rang out as the young man walked up to his captain. "You should get last again as punishment for your horrible suckage in your past two fights" he laughed. There was a a twinkle in his eye.

James cracked his joints and loosened himself up, shaking himself down before brushing his bangs out of his face.

"Hear that Bloody Pandas? I'll be ---

+++By that time the cyberpunk had tired of waiting and smoking. The butt end of the lho-stick would fly through the air to spread ash and a little bit of the fire into the man's face. Particularly his eyes. That was all that was needed as the cyberpunk came walking out from behind a crate like..thing. He had the sledgehammer shouldered up and his upper torso bare, due to the zip up hoodie not being zipped up. The hood up. His piercings twinkled lightly from under the shadows.

+++He wouldn't wait though. Regardless of what would happen the ashes and st would be a distraction, the wind whipping them around as if in a small tornado. This was what it was all about. The air, the rolling of the sea, and the blood that would taint the ground. A beautiful picture in the head of the cyberpunk as he ran forward before swinging the sledgehammer to bust the st out of some ribs of the man. Particularly the left side.

[1/17]

CLANGCLANGCLANGCLANGCLANG

And the footfalls stopped because Gamma's feet weren't touching anything. Those extra large strides had Gamma throwing himself from the lip of the container.

Aiming to land his leap behind James as Dzan made his swing with the hammer to James' left. Gamma's landing and silent falling would be punctuated with an overhanded axe swing to doublehand the giant mace to whatever space James was currently occupying from behind.

Being solid bronze with the six-way flanges at the crown-- each about as thick as a person's fingers and just as sharp-- it'd leave a mark on whatever it hit.

+++There was one thing about swinging a sledgehammer though. Dzan pivoted to add even more force behind the hammer and thus, that the knife throw would graze his stomach. A little tiny bit of blood. But that didn't stop a hammer swing nor would it stop it from connecting in the least. The man was flying through the air to tackle the cyberpunk. There was no letting go. What there was was the sledgehammer flying full force into the hip of the man. An impact that would, not only cause the tackle to miss by a few degrees, but also, most likely, shatter the bones of the hip.

+++Over it all he would shout. He needed some damn music. At the same time, after connecting with the blow he'd let go of the hammer and let it follow the man in his descent to the deck. "EBRIS GET ME SOME DAMN MUSIC YOU GAKKING HUNTER!"

[2/17]

A few sensations hit James all at once.

The whiffing sensation of something missing him.

The ocean breeze.

And, oh yeah. pain.

Lots of pain.

James flew by Dzan, almost clipping him. He hit the deck and rolled away rather limpy as the sledgehammer clipped his legs and landed a little past the young man.

Even as he managed to get up on one knee, he glared at Dzan with fury in his eyes, one hand clutched at his hip, and another in back, bracing him.

Hell, James couldn't even breathe properly, it was lucky that the heir was so tough, s**t like this happened all the time. Even though his hip wasn't crushed, he was pretty sure the pain blotted out everything, and made it feel as if it actutally was shattered beyond repair.

"********" he would manage to spit out a after a few moments of gaping like a fish.

2/17

Ahh, the open seas.

Fresh air, open skies, brisk splashes of water splashing against one's face...

And the delicate stench of thousands upon thousands of gallons of crude oil.

Yes, it was a floating fortune for the business tycoon and a drifting time bomb for the environmentalist. Contained within the holds of the tanker were millions, if not billions of dollars worth of oil - such a payload ensured that even the hippy's VW Bus could put-put around the land, spreading its flower power to the idealistic, lazy and non-working hippie masses. God damn hippies.

But even those flower children must be appeased, and so too must the owners of such oil. It was a tricky thing, trying to please both parties. Indeed, it would take a man of great skill, knowledge and wisdom to do such a thing, and for the few that they could find, they were employed at the heads of such a massive vessel. It was a man who could ensure that the big wigs of the Oil Companies got their oil delivered to them in full whilst making sure that all the little fuzzy baby seals and squaking birds remained slick-free, thus making the pinko-commies light up some doobies in celebration.

The rank of captain was truly a prestigious rank.

Especially for this certain vessel, for not only were they undertaking their normal job, but in addition they had been selected to host a competition between two teams who were part of Gaia's most famous of fighting events - Heaven or Hell.

From Team Bloodfire, there was Dragosani Kain, Deitric Jocasta and James Eredas!

From Team Bloody Pandas, there was Dzan Streea, Gamma and...and...

Wait.

Where was Ebris Dhifi?

Ebag the II Wrote:

"EBRIS GET ME SOME DAMN MUSIC YOU GAKKING HU-"

WHOOOOOOONK.

The sound of the tanker's horn blaring silenced everything for miles with its inhuman decibels. What came next, however, was something even more surprising.

"Shut the rath up enjoy the sound of that, hiver!

The rough voice of Ebris Dhifi blasted over the intercom of the tanker, interlaced with the static that came with broadcasting one's voice over such a device. Harsh laughter followed it, always showing the amusement the hunter found in his own insults. Ebris stood within the confines of the tanker's bridge, stolen captain hat atop his head. Ebris liked that hat, so when he had stuffed the actual captain into a maintenance closet, he swiped it off the poor chump. After asserting his authority in such a manner, it hadn't been hard for him to take control of the ship - temporarily, at least.

After finishing his laughing, the hunter proceeded, "Alright then, ladies, I wanna make an announcement: Ebris Dhifi will now be known as Cap'n Dhifi to you lil' grodpacked maggots, or I'll forgo the throwin' yer asses into the brig and just chuck the lot of ya overboard! Got it?"

He was serious - srs serious.

"No objections? Good! Now, since I'm such a fine fellow and all, I'll give ya rathers some grodpacked music to listen to. Ya better enjoy it or there will be a grod-load of pansies overboard soon!"

The intercom went silent, though it was still on. Background noise could be heard, such as scuffling, swearing, yelping and possible b***h slapping. Then, suddenly - and without warning! - the forward ends of a few dozen crates exploded, sending wood flying everywhere and revealing massive subwoofers within.

Then the music began to shred the air.

KIROSANA

Ebris returned to the intercom, tapping his foot to the beat and began to try and speak over the music.

"There! Enjoy it or else. Now 'scuse me while I go do some cap'n business - gotta talk to the Navigator and see if there is any islands filled with cute, endangered animals, 'cause they honestly need to be steamrolled the rath over. Throne-damed hippies whinin' about them all the time and everything."

Static, then complete silence.

Yeah, remember that whole thing about skill, knowledge, wisdom and grod?

That all went flying out the damn window.

Fierach Wrote:

The wind blew James's bangs across his face, obscuring his eyes.

The eyes turned white, losing the pupils and irises, anger flooding through his body.

"I'm going to rip---

3/17

Get your body beat!

+++Dzan would merely charge forward suddenly. Swinging that mace as the hair would obscure his vision, for if his eyes were obscured by something in front of them he, too, would be hard pressed to see out of it. As he suddenly went forward the music would blare out around him. He grinned. That bronze mace would swing in low, adding already to his arm length straight into the shoulder of the man's left side. He wouldn't speak anymore until he got real close to him. Enough to see if his hair did smell purty. The shoulder would probably be in worse damage than the hip if it connected. Why? Well, a mace usually ******** people up even worse. At the same time he began to let his Cranial CPU begin to open up towards a hundred percent activity.

Let your blood flow!

[4/17]

My body is here.

+++Dzan would merely giggle lightly as the man would take a sledgehammer and swing it at him. Full strength, but he grabbed the handle. There was a reason why the handle was long. It needed counterbalancing. So the strength behind it wouldn't be that impressive. The mace went on and straight into the shoulder of the man. A resounding crack and crunch would be heard. At the very least the shoulder was dislocated. At the most, it was broken. The sledgehammer came on and the cyberpunk's left hand came up to block it. Fingers crunched and cracked. Three fingers were broken. The other two, thumb and pinky, dislocated severely. The sledgehammer merely clattering to the ground. There wasn't enough momentum or counterbalance to truly throw it in that small area. Especially while being on one knee.

My soul in hell!

+++The Cranial CPU ramped up towards sixty percent. The binary flowing through the cybernetic parts. Blotting out the pain, but not enough to dull it completely. Yet, it wouldn't matter. They were just fingers. Who used those? What was really going to hurt was that right arm and the mace. The hand flexed and the arm brought up the mace like it was nothing. The cybernetic arm would bring it down again on top of the same shoulder. It was going to ******** hurt because it wasn't even a second from the first time. No time to truly dodge. Especially since he let the mace hit. He'd do this multiple times as his foot would stomp on the handle of the sledgehammer and hold it in place.

LAY DOWN AND PLAY DEAD!

[5/17]

Click -- beep.

Deitric's FIGHTER buzzed against his wrist as he entered the ring to preform his own striker. He'd taken off smoothly into a loping run, right into the fighting area from the sidelines. His long legs carried him forward in an almost dead sprint, his leather boots thudding deadpan against the metal of the ship's deck. He carried two things; a weapon on each hand as he sped up towards Dzan from behind.

1 Second.

The Khasminic warrior closed in swiftly, the short-spear in his right hand lancing out towards the back of Dzan's right knee. Even if it was carried in only one hand, the speed of his charge and the sharpness of the spear's arrow-like head would make it a mean attack - the gleaming, kettle-black metal of the spearhead would punch right into the back of Dzan's knee and completely bisect the kneecap horizontally, or at least shatter it as it punched out the front of the cyberpunk's knee, probably forcing him down onto one knee, assuming his now injured leg collapsed. The blow of the Bloody Panda's captain might've still hit James, but how much power was going to be behind it now would be uncertain.

There was some important stuff in the knee that helped with the leg's movement, and the broad-head shape of the spear's head was going to cripple the cyberpunk's movement. If the black-haired, club wielding fighter had a thing for pain, Deitric would give him plenty. Because he didn't plan on stopping there - both in terms of attack, and movement, because as soon as he'd feel the spear punched into his opponent's leg, he'd continue the charge.

2 Seconds.

Crack!-- thud.

The grisly sound could be heard even from the sidelines as the tomahawk in Deitric's hand - reversed for the attack - came down in a hardline descent for the back of Dzan's head as he closed the last few feet - nothing more than a single stride, if even that. He was aiming to catch the man on his way down from the spear attack, or if he was still standing, should he be just that damn tough (Which was likely, in all circumstances). His right hand pumped out, aiming to stiff-arm the cyberpunk right in the upper spine, aiming to send him sprawling forward and face down with the crippled leg and blow to the back of the head. Deitric would follow the fighter down rabidly, aiming for another advantage. In his last striker against Airstrike, he'd been lenient and had left after his initial attack. Even if the tomahawk blow put Dzan down, Deitric wasn't done yet.

3.5 Seconds.

Assuming all was well with the striker had put Dzan on his stomach, he'd feel the two-hundred and twenty-five pounds of Khasminic muscle land ontop of him hard, knees smashing down onto the cyberpunk's shoulders. The auto-mail shoulder was hard and metal, which Deitric hadn't exactly been expecting - he'd had no clue it was fake - and the surge of pain in his right leg was a clue in that not everything was as it seemed. But the warrior ignored it and simply began to rain down blows on the back and side of the cyberpunk's head - depending on how he turned it about when they hit the ground. Never with the intent to kill - just to royally ruin the man's day and try and knock him out if the pain from the crippling leg wound and the first head-crack hadn't been enough. Even with his own restraint, Deitric was still going for broke - he'd spend a large portion of his STRIKER right here, mounted ontop of the cyberpunk, pounding away with the counter-weight of his tomahawk.

3.5-7 Seconds.

With his gruesome work finished (one would assume anyways), Deitric would rise up, blood dripping from the counterweight of his tomahawk, and remove himself from the fighter's area as swiftly as he needed to, using his free hand to give the spear a cruel twist, if it were still lodged in the man's gored-up knee. Up and out, the tribesman was scot-free and out of the fighter's area with just little time to waste.

Striker finished.

+++Dzan would hear the thumping. His Neurostructure suddenly awakening completely to allow him to hear it. He began to turn around as the spear came forward. His leg raising some to make it skim off of it and to the side. Then suddenly he'd be knocked upwards even more by the ram from James. His mace shunting off of the bruised, if not broken, shoulder and onto the floor as the right hand released it. As he went up the spear would tear a bloody crevice down his leg, but it wasn't mortal or even wounding. It was a bad scrape, but it went where it was intended. Just not into Dzan's own knee.

A CLOSE ONE!

+++With it scraping and cutting the back of the calf of Dzan, due to him springing up a little more, that spear would thrust straight into the kneecap of James's good leg. From there Dzan's left arm slammed forward as well as his body. The body stopping the tomahawk from going up, and the elbow aiming to break the warrior's nose. He continued to push back. His body close to the arm with the tomahawk so it wouldn't be put to too much use. This was also aided by the grab of the wrist by Dzan's right hand. It wouldn't be the best, but it would be tight as he tried to send the warrior onto his back while James would try to get a spear out of his own knee.

Blood mixing with oil!

[6/17]

James didn't see the spear, but he felt it nicking him anyway.

Barely felt it. His hip was screaming at him, and it was far worse then any scratch made by his own teammate.

James collapsed and rolled to the right, out of the way as planned. His fingers ached too, as did his shoulder.

Alright, simple terms. James was in hurtin' all over. He hadn't had this much punishment dealt out in such a short amount of time since that incident with the two androids.

"But I defeated them! I can do this too!"

If Dzan was sent sprawled onto the floor, James would lunge on top of the cyberpunk's body, using his good leg to propel his body onto his opponent, and smash his face in with his armored fist, intent on pounding that face into the deck.

-WHAM-

No respite.

-WHAM

No holding back.

-WHAM-

CRAWLING IN MY SK- Oh wait.

-WHAM-

6/17

When Dzan stumbled into the opening James saw his own opening.

And no, not to jump into.

When the cyberpunk could see again, he'd only see his own teammate's mace swinging into his face.

James had limped toward the fallen mace as fast as he could right after Dzan had been bodychecked, and upon reaching it, snatched it up with his right hand. Only the enhanced reflexes granted to him by activating his eyes allowed him to even remotely attempt this.

Goin' for broke. It wasn't like James could stand much longer anyway, he could only pull off brief amounts of speed and movement to try and control the agony from his waist.

7/17

+++Coming to his face? That wouldn't matter in the least. His right arm shot up with only something mechanical and unnatural could manage. The mace slammed into it and dented a section of it and ripped a huge section of synthskin off. The metallic surface glowed. It knocked him back. He'd stumble again, but he'd survive. Though, with his electromuscles he'd easily reach down and grab the sledge with such ease it seemed natural. James would be surprised by this turn of events as the cybernetic arm would counterweight to the sledgehammer as he'd slam it straight forward, no swinging or anything, to make it aim straight for the man's face.

[8/17]

+++Once again the man was coming after him as he went to grab the sledgehammer. He'd try to get on top of him. It seemed the man wanted to have sex with him and wanted on top. Though, it wouldn't matter in the very least as he'd see the man coming and would spring off towards him. He'd meet him in the middle of the place and would wrap his own arms around him. He'd take a punch or two but this was the end.

+++His leg killed, but the binary that flowed through him due to the Cranial CPU loaded up numbed it off. Though, because the man was already in pain it was all over. Dzan would use his extra strength afforded to him by the electromuscles to lift and slam the man's face straight into the side of crate before leaning forward and then back again. The entire time he'd probably take another punch or two, but his arms merely squeezed tighter around his back as he'd go against the crate again. To top it all off, the crate was metal.

[9/17]

Well, that was that. The cyberpunk could simply take just as much damage as he dished out. James couldn't, he had already reached his limit.

After the second face smashing, James was out cold, blood matting his hair. Despite getting horribly ******** over by a crippling hit straight off into the battle, he'd done his best.

Hell, he still didn't know how close he was to gettin KOed instantly into the match by the striker from Dzan's team.

"Well, that was... fun..."

Game over mans.

Hope he didn't attempt to smash James against the crate a third time. He was beginning to loosen the stack, a third hit might topple a crate onto them both.

Double KO?

[9/17]

+++Dzan would feel the man go limp. That was the only thing that stopped him from continuing the semi-suplex into the side of a metal crate. He'd growl slightly as he'd heft the man more onto his shoulder and walk towards where the damn tomahawk man was. He'd then drop the man, rather roughly, onto the deck before kissing at the warrior before him. A little bit of blood dripped from his lips from the punches he received, but it was nothing. He'd then turn around and approach the bridge. His hands fumbling about his body for the metal case of lho-sticks and a lighter.

Apparently, sleep deprivation had finally gotten the better of him and Kain climbed out from a cargo hold. Somewhere in the process of pacing he'd tripped and fallen through one of the crappily boarded up containers filled with blankets.

Well, he was back now and stepping up next to the tribesman.

"So, what'd I miss?"

+++Dzan had fumbled the st out of his pocket and was in the process of lighting a lho-stick that protruded from his lips. As it caught he'd sigh gratefully and put the st away as his right hand came up and gripped his thumb and yanked suddenly. A pop would issue forth as it went bac into place. He'd then do the same thing to his pinky. He couldn't do s**t for his index, middle, and ring finger though. They were broken.

+++He'd then walk towards the battle area and grab the sledgehammer, leaving the mace, and walk towards the bridge of the ship. His footsteps were slow due to the adrenaline crash he was receiving. His Healing Cell had continued to slow the bleeding of the leg wound he received, but still blood leaked out and caused a trail. He was going to go take a rest as he smoked his stick of lho. Maybe even fine some Gaian alcohol around the ship. That would be good even if the Gaian alcohol sucked.

• SWISH -

She landed in a crouch on the deck as one of the Foundation's choppers brought her ringside for the tanker fight.

She had missed the first fight so she could catch the end of the first Frozen Flame VS, Fracture match. It had been WELL worth it! One of the most brutal fights the tournament had seen so far.

As the teams prepared for the next round, she got to her feet and looked around, her short brown skirt dancing about her legs. The white thigh-highs were surprisingly warm.

Despite the freezing temperatures and the icy wind coming off the water, she was dressed in a white sleeveless top that showed of her tanned and toned stomach. The only 'seasonal' items she wore, were her boots and and a long brown and gold scarf with 'HoH' embroidered on it. How did she stay warm? It was anyone's guess--

A mic rested by her mouth, but the inbound feed was turned off. Yet she could still here all the updates she was receiving via her headset and the data showing up on the digital eye piece she wore.

"Hmmm--"

Loud music filled the air and the scent of blood was strong. Both teams for this stage had a reputation for putting on a good show. BLOODY PANDAS had also gained a reputation for excessive violence and brutality. They sounded like Nikki's kind of team!

"ALL RIGHT!~ LETS ROCK THIS BOAT!"

She laughed and shook her head sending blond hair bouncing.

"You are kidding, right?"

A bemused smile crept across her lips as she gazed up at the devil flirtatiously.

"And miss out on all the ACTION? No thank you! A free backstage pass is only one of the perks of this position."

She winked and rested her weight on one foot 'causing her hip to jut out as she folded her arms beneath her breasts.

"So. Can I count on you for the ACTION I DESIRE, Kain?"

Part of her job was knowing the profiles of the competitors. If she couldn't pick the fighters out by name after studying their folders for weeks, she'd of been out of a job.

"The other guy is BIGGER."

She mused aloud and glancing in Ebris and Gamma's resective directions.

"Which one of you is best equipped to show me a good time, hmm?"

If James was awake, he'd probably have backhanded his own captain and told him to focus on the battle ahead instead of flirting with Mrs. HoH.

But as things where, James was still unconcious.

Although hitting his own captain would've felt good.

Kain wanted a smoke so bad but he was out and became irritated. Apparently, he had been chainsmoking while he binged in drink.

He slapped his face 3 stooges style and started to do some stretches, trying to keep his mind off of his most favoured addiction.

El Capitano was going to be a wee bit more serious, mainly because he didn't know what to expect next. In this part of the script he had spilled coffee all over it and in a rash decision he had tried to wipe it away with his hand, destroying what he was SUPPOSED to do in this fight.

Kain's body heat had risen, he was getting pumped and ready. Were Nikki still around she would feel the change of heat from the man she had been talking to.

The Devil would meet Gamma's walk forward, his sheathed weapon rested against his right shoulder, his wings elevated and spread out. Should Gamma's advance not change within 10 feet between them, Kain would take the first swing, and, with his sheathed weapon too.

The sheath would fly off from the blade and spin at Gamma's left breast, with that loosed Kain would step forward and lunge, his wings canopying over his head with the action. His aim was to snag Gamma at his waist for a good ol' bladder stab.

[1]

Deitric offered a slight nod of his head to Ebris in affirmation. He'd taken to leaning on the spear haphazardly, mostly ignoring the banter between his captain and the woman that had been going on. He seemed to liven up a bit when an opponent appeared, though, and put his weight back onto his own two feet, though the spear's butt still rested heavily against the hard steel of the ship's deck.

"Deitric," the tribesman responded, his calm voice somewhat flat from the fact that he was speaking a second language. He didn't ask the man's name - he assumed Ebris would introduce himself after hearing Deitric's response. He didn't appear too perturbed by his opponent's hat or size, though the hat did surprise him a bit. He blinked a few times in succession before giving his head a faint shake, the black warrior 'hawk now sitting atop his mostly-bald head shaking slightly with the motion. If nothing else, this fight was going to be interesting.

"Best to get to it then, right?" Deitric asked, giving a snap-twist of his upper torso, sliding the shield down from its rest position on his back to his right forearm, slipping his fingers around the leather hand-grip of the medicine shield.

Suddenly..

A hat!

One of them, in fact.

Deitric simply reached out with the spear to let the hat impale itself on the spear a ways down the spear's broad head. Hatricide? Indeed. Behind them, still at the ship's helm, the real captain fumed and shouted unheard vitriol at the Khasminic warrior for ruining his 'damn good piece of Navy finery.'

He didn't bother shaking the hat off, opting to widen his stance slightly and shift his weight onto his back foot, bringing the hide-covered shield to bear. He retracted the spear as he let himself slip into his natural fighting stance before pulling it back so that his hand was almost at his hip before. As soon as the larger Ebris got close enough, Deitric stabbed out hard with the be'feathered spear from beneath the cover of his slanted shield, aiming to hit his opponent right above the hip.

Aiming too low so early might've allowed the larger man to just hop over and crash onto Deitric, and too high would have let him just grab or slap the spear away. But at waist level, it was a little bit harder to do both - or at the very least, it wasn't such a savory option. His opponent was a big, gnarled fighter, and the vice-captain of Bloodfire didn't expect to do well in a toe-to-toe battle with the hunter, but he couldn't afford to show any hint of his plans too early yet.

CLANKCLANKCLANKCLANK

An old heart began to churn within the confines of a chest cavity, protected by nearly inhumanly-hard bones and slabs of thick muscles. Adrenaline began to pump through countless veins and arteries, fueling the massive body that charged forth ever onward. He was a tank, a war machine - there was little on this world or the next that could stop Ebris Dhifi when he started a rampage.

As the spear stabbed through the hat, Ebris gave a snort of amusement, unheard through the noise of conflict and Static X. The captain wasn't gonna be too happy about that.

CLANKCLANK...

It was nearing the apex of the true conflict. Ebris was two steps away from being within the range of being gored by Deitric's spear. During that period of imminent collision, the hunter's arms - which had been reaching for something on his back and inside his coat - were now pulling forth, bearing gifts of violence for the masses that craved it so. His right arm came out from behind his back first, his hand gripping a familiar durasteel rod. Ebris' left hand was beginning to pull out a large, dark object from his coat as this occurred.

CLANK

The hunter's left came down and began to come forward with his right just as the enemy warrior's spear was thrust forth, aiming to pierce his hip. The steel shaft in his right hand had been raised up and was now coming down from above and the side...

CLA-CHAK

With the dual noise came progress and ceasing. Ebris' rod came down and smacked the spear from the outside, sending it to his left and Deitric's right. The power of the blow was not enough to knock the weapon out of a strong grip, but it was easily powerful enough to deflect it. Since the aging hunter had stepped in with his right, the spear's proximity would still allow it to hit home somewhat. The point and edge of the weapon's head would slice through leather and padded cloth as it was deflected inwardly to the side, cutting a groove in Ebris' abdomen.

Deitric had scored first blood, but Ebris was gonna make him bleed all the more to make up for the fact.

Ebris' left arm was now free and up in the air, clasping an odd looking object. It was shaped like a weird triangle, with the apex point being dull and curved, it seemed. It was black in color and had lots of pointy grod coming out of one end.

Oh yeah, he had whipped that out.

The Dragon Jaw.

The prize of the Dragon Miner came down diagonally, aiming to smack brutally into the side of Deitric's face and neck, right before Ebris' momentum would cause him to collide right into the warrior. Since the spear had been smacked off to the side, it would be pinned by both of the bodies colliding with one another. More than likely they would fall to the ground after the impact, with Ebris on top and him trying to continually beat the ever-loving grod outta Deitric's face with the dragon jaw.

TV Stations would instinctively flick censors on, knowing damn well what happened when Ebris Dhifi got up all nice and close with a new friend of his.

02/17

Thwack!

The spear indeed came back and hit Ebris, but the tip and its edges would already have been passed at this point - Ebris wasn't very agile in his movements, but when it came to a dead run, he could move like hell on two feet. The momentum he could generate with such movements was just rathin' scary. Thus, it was a good thing that the vicious blow the hunter had sent at Deitric with the jaw had knocked him back enough to bring up a leg to try and redirect the momentum of the charge - otherwise, it would have been like getting hit by a vehicle more than a man.

Still, the move would not go without repercussions. Ebris had come in rathin' hard, and while he would get thrown, the knee and ankle joints would get messed up from the mass and velocity of a giant bounty hunter barreling into it. A lesser man would have had said joints shatter under such force more than likely - Deitric, being a conditioned warrior, would probably find them jammed up painfully, along with some possible torn cartilage, but nothing more besides that. He would also be taken to the ground, albeit not with a very large and raging man on top of him.

THUD

Ebris was thrown through the air somewhat and hit the ground, right in front of the fallen Deitric. The hunter would grunt from the sudden jolt of the impact, but it wouldn't even stun him for a moment. Without wasting any time he flung his right arm above and behind him, rod still in hand. That kind of blow with a blunt, rod-like object wouldn't really do much in terms of damage, but that wasn't what Ebris had intended.

His thumb pressed up on a stud on the rod.

Shnackt

And out came the Mining Pick parts.

Now things were getting juicy. The blow came with enough speed and suddenness that Deitric would have a very difficult time avoiding it completely, especially due to Ebris' long reach. Depending on how the guy moved and if it were to hit, it could hit the shoulder, the chest, the arm or anywhere around that part of the body. The weapon had enough momentum to pierce through bone savagely, as it was made to hack through the toughest of material. As all of this occurred, the music began to pick up with the emergence of lyrics - with them came the start of the bloodshed.

GO!

03/17

Ahh, yeah.

Ebris felt the hotness of the blood spatter against his face as the pick found its way home, cutting a nasty gash down Deitric's shoulder. It wasn't exactly what he was aiming for, but giant hobo's couldn't be choosers. Pulling his legs back with some amount of force, Ebris hurled his weight forward, taking him off his back and onto his feet, knees bent to support and balance him. Blood was seeping from the cut on his stomach, but it was even less deep than the wound he had inflicted on Deitric and shouldn't pose too much of a problem. Ebris quickly stood up, turned around with a glint of anticipation in his eyes...

...and watched as his opponent tucked tail and ran for the safe confines of the crate and container maze.

The hunter stood there for a moment, blinking incredulously. Shaking his head, Ebris narrowed his eyes and growled, his legs beginning to pump in the beginning pursuit. As he ran, Ebris temporarily put his weapons away in some inner front pockets of his duster and called out to Deitric in a rage.

"You rathin' punk! Stop yer Throne-damned runnin' and fight like a man!"

Oh yeah, Ebris was a bounty hunter - given some patience, he could easily track Deitric through the crate maze as easily he could track things himself, being a nature boy and all. However, Ebris was in no mood to go chase some Throne-damned wild goose all around the rathin' deck.

So, instead of following him into there, the hunter vaulted onto one of the crates next to the entrance and then used it as a stepping stone to leap onto the steel container it was stacked next to. As he stomped along the length of the container, Ebris grabbed a hold of a large wooden crate and proceeded to hurl it into the air toward the fleeing warrior. It was somewhat inaccurate, but it was a quick and extremely powerful throw. Even if bits of debris hit, it would be a b***h.

Ebris used this high ground advantage to pursue Deitric, hopping from container to container and grabbing crates and grod to toss at the fleeing man. It was like some rathed up version of Donkey Kong (especially since Ebris could be equated to a pissed-off gorilla easily); however, instead of you going after the monkey, the monkey is coming after you.

During this, the song pumped out some lyrics that appropriately fitted the current bombardment.

DOWN!

DOWN!

DOWN!

04/17

So Ebris was forced to leap down into the maze of crates and grod, since his opponent wanted to play hide and seek. That didn't make him too happy, really.

Hunching down, the hunter began to let his instincts take over, taking his mining pick and dragon jaw out once again. Deitric was a hunter - this was obvious from the way he carried himself. However, Ebris had been hunting sentients and other entities for over a generation - trying to catch him unawares would be a damn hard thing.

Ebris began to stalk the paths he found. He mainly took into account things such as blood trails, the way debris and water had been scattered - if it was unnatural, he would follow it. He always kept his senses keen, always checking his six and above to make sure that he wasn't ambushed easily.

The hunt was on, and Deitric would find that while it was possible to trap a Mountain Lion, one should never expect to think it was not luring you into its own ambush...

05/17

And thus the spear would fly forth.

Fortunately for the hunter, the flying projectile had come from ahead, and with Ebris being on high alert, he was able to see it coming. There was no time to dodge, of course - spears tended to be thrown pretty damn quickly - but he did have something in the hand of the limb that was aimed for by the weapon.

Yeah, dragon jaws were rathin' awesome.

Ebris brought up the mandible in an attempt to deflect the blow, but it was too quick. Instead of hitting the bone of the jaw, it pierced through the underside of the thing, which was only covered by scales, muscles and cartilage. With a meaty thunk the spear plunged through it and hit Ebris' left bicep, piercing it somewhat. However, due to the weapon being slowed down by being slightly wedged into the meat, scales and grod of the jaw, as well as how thick Ebris' biceps were, the blow came just above superficial. It hurt pretty damn bad and bled an annoying bit, but it was not debilitating.

Growling and cursing, he yanked the weapon out with his right hand and immediately followed pursuit. He wedged his mining pick into his left hand along with the jaw, just to carry it and not use it, and wielded the spear in his right. Once again he took to the upper crates, leaping up stacked ones onto the larger steel containers. Ebris pumped himself to move as fast as he could and would be rewarded with a blur of movement below, which he hurled the spear at. It was in the general direction of where Deitric would more than likely try to flee, but it was still somewhat of a blindshot. Better than doing nothing, of course.

Hit or no, Ebris pursued the movements he caught in his eye, steadily driving the man to the outskirts of the container maze so he could confront him in the open and finish this.

06/17