Durem Cathedral

It wasn't long before Kain saw the gleaming steeple of the Cathedral.

He supposed it could be a nice piece of architect but his body didn't think much of it.

His engines roared and he could already see that the place was lit brilliantly to properly present the Heaven of Hell battleground. Camera crews and their personal tech lights added more to the display, making the building look as if it were glowing with stars at its base.

Kain accelerated to the waiting people, all eyes on him as he approached on his roaring steed. He leaned and pulled on the breaks to fishtail so that the side of the bike faced the posse, black rubber marking his path before he halted.

There was an enourmous cheer and again he was swarmed with questions.

"What do you think your chances of winning are?"

"Do you regret not bringing an alternate fighter with you to this years tournament"

"Please, will you have my babies?"

One of the fans rushed up to him and gave him a small white kitten. He waved to cameras and gave a smile out here or there, but he really wanted to see the fighting ground.

"Alright, my friends. Sorry I can't answer all of your questions right now, curiosity, y'know."

Sierra was much better at handling that sort of business. Anyway, he headed into the place, kitten underarm.

Kraun, From the Crimson Hawk Hotel Wrote:

Chaplain Fenix Wrote:

sammisanX Wrote:

Sam coughed a bit. There he was, safely locked in his room. Drinking sparkling water. All alone. "Where... In the hell, are those three? I don't want to be left all alone." He picked up the 'FIGHTER' that had been placed in his room for him, clamping it over his stylistic metal gloves. There was a light 'tink'. "Oh, s**t." He said, pulling it off and looking at it. He pulled off his gloves and started inspecting it further- He'd busted an incredibly small syringe's needle off. "Snap, that was designed for my DNA."

He pulled out a small knife, tossing it into the air and eyeing it cautiously. He gritted his teeth, slamming the knife into his right arm perhaps a bit too enthusiastically- Shedding blood on the open syringe. The remainders of the needle popped off and the vessel closed itself. Sam was still bleeding on it. "Well, I'll probably need a bandage..." He looked around the room- Ah, a medical kit was on the wall. Exactly what he needed... And noone around to help him with this medical crap. Damn, what he'd give for Michael's help.

Defective FIGHTERS made for defective tournament entrants.

The rules had a thing or two to say about FIGHTERS, but Sam would need to see a tournament official.

Concerning potential disqualification, even if accidental and self inflicted.

The bracelet would read; 'Welcome to Heaven or Hell, Samuel Gunnar'.

However, only up to that point would the FIGHTER bracelet shut itself off and self destruct, its internals smoking out of the tiny crevices in the device, having read no vitals at all, since it was never attached to the man, it considered the participant dead and therefore unable to continue in the tournament.

((Read: HoH Manual, Post 3; HoH Battle Programe, Section 5; HoH FIGHTERs, paragraph 5:

Quote: All participants must wear there FIGHTERs at all times; it is proof of their eligibility. ))

Thus, this participant really should go see an official. It would be a damn shame for a competitor to disqualify themself for misuse of tournament equipment.

It was early in the morning that James managed to arrive, later then his teammates did. He had, ah, gotten "sidetracked" by his girlfriend, which was sort of evident from the red lipstick still plastered onto his neck.

It was what he got for annoying her to borrow her car to get to the Cathedral. Damn the power of boobies over men.

He pulled up slowly toward the entrance of the Cathedral, his car almost immediately swarmed by the masses of people.

He shook himself fully awake and alert, this was no time to be feeling sleepy, and stepped outside to greet the crowd.

Now came the questions.

"Mr. Eredas, why are you late and not with your teammates?"

"Is it some sort of statement that you are making by coming seperate from them?"

"Are there in-team troubles?"

"Were you hiring a prostitute the night before?"

If it was possible, James saw red, all red, just for instant. He swiveled on the spot and grabbed the cuff of the offender with both handns and pulled him closer and bared his teeth in the reporter's face.

"What. Did. You. Say?" James spat through clenched teeth. The expression on his face was horrible. No one insults Mei and gets away with it.

"N-n-nothing sir" the man stammered before being dropped to the floor. Good enough for now. James had the presence of mind to wipe off the red lipstick still on him, briefing explaining to the cameras that he was with his girlfriend, which led to a few "Oohs" and "Ahhs", and a couple of groans from disappointed fangirls.

He'd ignore the rest and enter the cathedral looking for both teams, friends and foes.

Kain didn't bother heading all the way to the other end of the Cathedral, he still needed to wait for his te--

"Oh, good."

Deitric was almost right behind him, Kain clasped the tribesman's shoulder and gave a laugh.

"Alright, time to start this."

James was came later, but that was fine, not all of the other teams members had shown up. He...was he? Yes, he was certainly glowing...the lucky b*****d.

Two of the opposing teams members had shown up, looking less enthusiastic than Kain or the fans were and that was a shame they should enjoy this moment.

It wasn't until after James had shown up that he forgot he left his weapons on his bike. Kain got himself another smoke and headed back to the entrance, making sure to give a wide birth the crosses that popped up every now and then. 'He', in the sentient sense, wasn't Evil but his blood was still that of a devil and his skin crawled around these kinds of places. Though, he made no hint at his feelings to the place; it's all about presentation.

He hailed one of the fans and promised to take them out to lunch if they would fetch his items from his machine. With great exuberance the fan bolted through the crowd and returned shortly after, amazingly unscathed. Kain brought the fan in and found him a spot on the bleachers by their team's spot near the entrance.

So, now he was set, his dagger, which placed on his belt around his lumbar, his odachi in his right hand, and fluffy white kitten in his left.

"I wouldn't miss this for the world" James replied with a nod and sat down in one of the many rows of seats near his team.

They were just waiting on this other team now, Crashing Elements. James himself only seen two of them, they needed one more.

He let loose a great yawn and began preening himself, making sure once again that everything was in order.

"You know" he said as he looked at the FIGHTER on his left forearm. "These are pretty neat tools, hope they are durable" he commented, turning his hand every which way. He'd have to control any techniques done with his left hand.

"Just in time..." A strong, benevolent and manly voice echoed through out the cathedral. All but some eyes would be turned to the entrance by pure instinctive traits that lay dorment in the minds of all living creatures. The doors to the cathedral slowly gave way to two callused hands. The hands belonged to a shining figure, his glorious radiance seeming to shine through the doorway, only rivaled by that of the sun, or the glorious God himself. Bathed in said rivaled sunlight, the figure stepped forward on to the marble flooring. The doors closed behind the new comer, his physique slowly coming in to shape as his glorious enchantment of light faded with the sun's comforting warmth.

The figure stood at an astounding seven feet, his physique that of an athletic body builder. He wore unusual garb that showed mixed traits from Korean and Norwegian culture. A robe with it's arm cut off made of clothe with golden teather(rope made of hundreds of gold peices binded together individually for movement) accents and lining, accompanied by a cotton collar with a golden teather outerlining. The upper portion of the vest is a golden color, while a lining of golden teather cuts the gold off at the middle of the vest, leading in to a heavenly white color. A Golden Armlet on the right arm, traditional knuckle dusters, a Silver(right middle) Ring and an Onyx(left index) Ring. A white Martial artist belt accented by a golden lining in the middle and a golden buckle in the front depicting two hands held together in a Tribal manner. A sack holding assorted jewels no greater than 5 carots each. Nearly Ankle low Shorts with a half inch wedge on each side, a one inch tall golden lining on the cuffs of the shorts. An extend bottom of the vest tucked neatly under the belt. This extended bottom is revealed to be white like the bottom section, with golden flames along rising along the bottom of the robe. Black clothe shoes that rise up slightly past the ankle. No socks. The shoes have a golden line running on the front of the shoes from toe to top.

He began to stride, his left index and middle fingers grazing the very edges of the benches as he made his way down the aisle. His eyes being a beautiful mix of azure and magenta, resulting in that of an indigo like color, gleemed in the light that slipped through the stain-glass windows. He turned his head every so often to view the breath taking statues and artistic marble craftsmanship, a smile coming to his face as he gave a polite nod to each and every person within the cathedral. His "journey" ended as he had seemingly frozen in place, a broken walking cycle if you would. He suddenly dropped to his knees, and put his head to his praying hands.

He began to speak "Our Father, Who art in heaven, Hallowed be Thy Name. Thy Kingdom come. Thy Will be done, on earth as it is in Heaven. Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. Amen..." His words echoed once more in to the depths of the Cathedral, filling it's emptieness with the spirit of God once more. He stood, and turned to look at his adversaries. "Ask... and thou shalt recieve."

He brought his right arm up, his elbow bent and his fist clenched tight, the top of his fist level with his eyes. His eyes which had once been soft and loving, were now cold and filled with a thirst for blood. "The idea that one's conscience should produce guilt for a conscious act of sin... Is an idea that died with the old testament." A cold burst of air slammed through the cathedral at speeds of twenty five miles an hour, it's origin being the man's own arm, which seemed to pulsate as the air returned from the way it had blown, and rushed back in to his arm, forming an icey guard. "My name is Linken Seki Rocuta... I will be performing an exorcism today. For you see, we all have our inner demons... But just wait until you meet mine..."

"God damn. Is that everyone from your team?" Kain asked as the 4th man who entered the arena.

He scritched his kittens head and puffed away on his cig.

"We're getting a bit antsy---well, maybe just Deitric and I. My man James over there already had some action."

The dirty/lucky b*****d.

Dragosani Kain Wrote:

"God damn. Is that everyone from your team?" Kain asked as the 4th man who entered the arena.

James flipped his sleeves up and over the FIGHTER he was examining, and peered over at the new entrants, scoping them out.

Dragosani Kain Wrote:

"We're getting a bit antsy---well, maybe just Deitric and I. My man James over there already had some action."

The dirty/lucky b*****d.

James waved and said "Yo... wait... what?"

The kitten mewed as it exchanged hands, and James found himself petting the thing.

"Aw, its so cute" he exclaimed and looked into it's eyes. James was always a cat person himself. He looked up just in time to see his team's captain gearing up for war. James grinned, knowingly. He may not always agree with Kain's blood but he had to admit, Kain was a formiable opponent under any circumstances.

"I would not waste energy communicating like this if I had the vocal cords to speak your primitive language." Michael watched as the creature performed what he assumed was a ritual to intimidate him. Horns, teeth, wings. The creature was of devil decent Michael guessed. "My name is Michael Azrael, Agent of God." Michael's eyes darted around the room. Dispite him not wishing to harm the place, it looked as though he had no choice. Everything and anything was a weapon, if you knew how to use it correctly. "Isn't it rather foolish to send out the captain within the first fight? When you're knocked out, your team will have no one to follow, and disarray is sure to follow, ensuring victory for the rest of us. But no matter."

Michael shuffled his feet, and shook the hair from his eyes. His cold maroon eyes glared out from his white skin. "It is, as you say, time to 'rock'. You shall begin." Michael hoped that memorible paintings had been made of this place, for it wasn't going to be there much longer.

Oo. A sheath. A rather long sheath for a rather long weapon. Someone was insecure about themselves. Obviously this was a test of his powers, to see how he would dodge. Powers were not needed here, only simple movements. With the object about a metre away, Michael stepped to the side, ensuring his safety. He then executed his own three hundred sixty degree turn, his foot raised high. It connected with the sheath, and with the correct about of force, Michael sent it flying right back at his opponent, who should be too busy doing his own little spin to notice. Michael placed both feet on the ground again, and waited for the next attack.

(Hm, thought you only threw the sheath, and were preparing to throw the cross afterwards. That's what it looked like in your post at the very least)

Using the symbols of God was weapons. Michael hadn't wanted to resort to it, but oh well. The cross wasn't that big of a problem. Michael exerted a miniscule amount of force on it, stopping it in its tracks. Michael couldn't help but smirk. With a mental cry of, "HOLY CROSS!" Michael levitated himself in to the air along with the massive cross, and began to swing the cross around himself at high velocities. Michael was at a high enough level that the sword wouldn't be able to reach him, but the cross was far away enough to hopefully smack his opponent right in the face. Being born a devil, the blessed object would hopefully do quite a good amount of damage to the creature.

Michael quickly focused on two of the benches behind Kain, and decided to launch both of them at him. Hopefully his attention would be at the cross, and not notice the benches, which if everything went to plan, smash in to the bones connecting his wings and break them, rendering them useless.

Deitric kept his place off to the side if the fighting, idly watching as the two men duked it out. The look on his face suggested a bit of interest, but not a terrible amount. Nor did he seem particularly moved by the sounds and movements of the crowd.

He reached down, pulling out what looked to be a rather aged pocket-watch, popping it open to look inside for a moment before snapping it closed and returning it to his pocket once again.

The white kitten mewed from its comfortable place atop James's head as he watched the battle. He was more interested then Deitric was, for though Kain and Deitric were his teammates, he also held a form of rivarly with them, you know, being fighters and all.

A few fans and reporters would be pointing at him with the kitty and they'd go like "THATS SO CUTE o3o!". James didn't want to let go of the cat, he didn't trust any of the crowd with it. Seriously, they could just run off with it, right?

"Think Kain's got it?" James asked intently to the vice captain.

"I believe so. After all, his opponent is the one expending all his energy - even someone skilled in the use of such an ability must succumb to the costs. Eventually. All Kain has to do is keep the pressure on him and try to push through any attacks - like he is now. Of course, getting smashed with these benches must be tiring as well..," Deitric conceded. The fight seemed to be going in their favor, but then again, getting benches smashed up against you - even with a defense such as the thick, hardy wings Kain had - was going to hurt, and probably do more than a little to slow someone down in the long run. But then again, Deitric could only measure such things by human standards - and Kain was more than human.

"With any hope, this fight will end quickly. Or maybe they'll just keep uprooting pews and breaking things to clear the way for our fights."

Strange that he kept missing his opponent. From Kain's understanding an uppercut was issued from under the person, perhaps there was a misunderstanding between an uppercut and a hook. If one were to move DOWN into an upper cut, would that not be like leaning into the blow?

As with the uppercut one would need to jump vertically and be within' range of his sword that had been placed along his leg. The blade was 5'5", the grip adding more inches, the arms; even more length, giving him the ability to extend to his intended target, Michael move DOWN onto it - to dodge under and above of Kain's wing and sword would rival The Flash, possibly Goku - moving backwards would've been a better move.

Unfortunate for Michael that Kain had dealt with the bench aimed for him, it was he was in rotation that he saw the thing and that he used the momentum of a missed wing attack to crush the wildly flung bench. The wing would crash down on it, accepting the pain of major bruising to send the projectile back at its initiator, the telekinetic.

[5/17]

((Read my posts. They're literal in where an uppercut is an uppercut, the difference is that I did it with a wing and took into account your ascension. If you have difficulties understanding my posts, I've already initiated communications via PM. Exploit it.))

Deitric remained in his spot, calmly watching the bout - he understood that the fighting stage was holy ground, and as much as he respected that, he found that it wouldn't affect him too much - after all, it wasn't a lavish, clearly expensive place of prayer to his god. Not that it required such a thing.

"How much longer do you figure it'll go on for, eh?" Deitric asked, looking over to his kitten-holding teammate. He still looked pretty detached, but he was at least interested in the fight to an extent, and his eyes followed the aerial maneuvers.

[I think they're working it out in PMs, something was probably misinterpreted on both sides (as things tend to be).]

”You’ve sacrificed enough of your body to me in this match. You can go ahead and give up any time now.” Michael was quite vicious for one who worshipped the lord of forgiveness, with the exceptional amount of time the duo seemed to have spent in the air the pulse tearing his skull in half had subsided to but a dull tone that could easily be flung to back of ones mind. The avatar of god would shift to the side, stepping away from the bench that he had used to counter-balance his body.

Kain had done quit well, if one considered being a persistant annoyance to be quite well, but his attacks had been for naught. Sacraficing his wing in order to block the cathedral bench had only been his last mistake, leaping into the air and simply hanging there had been the first. Even as the original bench teetered back, shattered by the powerful swing of the demons wing, it slammed to the opposite wall. Michael would exert his mental energy on the bench next to him, the farthest end of the bench would fling into the air, in hopes of plowing into the free-falling Kain before he could regain his height.

Should Kain allow him, Michael was in for a rather interesting game of pinball, with his demonic opponent as the ball.

(Glad we got this all cleared up. Now lets party.)

[5/17]

[I might not be here tomorrow, so, try to finish this sometime so the rest of us gets a chance to fight? >_>]

"ERG!"

He fell hard on his left shoulder and wing, the broken bones in it shooting the pain into his back.

::Nothing's shooting at my face....that's good---"

"Would you just pass out so I can end this blasphemy?"

Goddamn that was getting annoying. Kain picked himself up, his opponents movements and actions giving him plenty of time to do so, keeping a careful watch on him as he brought out a brick(?) from the wall.

Kain's right eye was greatly swollen, nearly shut, it was purple and seemingly pulsating. His left wing shook a little bit but held strong, his head ached from the smack, blood dripped along the right side of his face and mouth. He looked worse than he felt, this fight wasn't nearly as over as his opponent may think. Kain wasn't the one expending so much mental exertion, Michael had to be feelin' it soon, the Devil would think.

Back to the fight, Kain raised his left hand and clawed at the swollen area to drain the blood, giving him back full view with his eye again. Bah, a brick wouldn't stop this man, Kain held fast to his sword and began walking towards Michael.

"No no no no no NO no no no no. But, I really think we should start fighting and stop with the bench pressing. Rock tossing doesn't make you anymore awesome."

It was all Michael this time, Kain was just bringing up the heat. And, it would be getting much hotter, not just from his sexy beat up look that had ladies in the stands fawn over, but the actual temperature in his vicinity.

[7/17]

(( ))

Wait...didn't people mass outside of the door? No no no, Michael would've arced the rocks over them...hopefully. >.>;;;

::...christ...::

Kain contracted his wings around himself, his right in front of his injured left, while he was being pelted with ****** ROCKS. This guy was being a b***d, a cheeky one that had red hair, freckles and an abusive step-father.

Sure he was getting twacked but at least his leathery appendages protected his torso, taking the brunt of the attacks and suffering a large gash on the right wing that bled like a mah'fuggah.

He would move forward none-the-less, barely dodging a flat stone to his face...that one would've taken OUT his eye. He would be getting closer to Michael at a steady pace except about 7 metres away where he would get cracked in the left knee and shin with fair sized rocks, buckling his leg. It would throw him a bit off balance and cause a rogue stone to slip through his wing encasement and crack at his right hip.

::This' ridiculous::

Various wounds would open up on on his wings, giving them an even more grotesque look. A bleeding flap of flesh. Well, it'd be a fun to quickly lash out his wing (right) towards Michael and litter him in Blood, a nice strip of it would fly from the particularly gruesome wound and mess up that pretty outfit. His hope was to get some in his opponents eyes to blind him.

[8/17]

Linken slapped the Fighter on this his bare arm, and flipped a tiny switch. Legs swayed a bit, brows narrowed, he would begin a quick sprint to the undamaged side of the church, where it appeared Kain's fellow team mates were watching the on-going fight. Soon afterwords he would thrust fourth his right arm and left leg. His head tilted down with the sudden movement, a rush of cold air thrust forward in the direction of the fight. The ground seemed to shake and the statues and pillars appeared to rumble with the might of Linken's single thrust. His open hand which had been extended to a point as he thrust forward his arm had slowly begun to bend at the wrist, and take the form of a claw, or as best a human could have to a claw.

His claw shaped hand slowly started to rumble as did the statues. The Holy Water within the bowls that had been plastered upon the walls had slowly begun to rise out of said bowls. In a beautiful dance, the water rushed in to Linken's open claw, floating a mere three inches away from his palm. The Holy liquid spun in what seemed to be an 'X' formation, dancing more now that it was closer to Linken. His head slowly began to rise from his tilted perch, and his eyes were revealed to be glowing a heavenly light blue. His lips parted, his breath was visible, and words began to creep from his mouth. "Michael... Do what you will with this demon... and accept this gift from our Lord!"

His last few words triggered a pseudo explosion from Linken's hand, the water being sent fourth to splash directly on to Kain's overlapping wings, one of which had been opened to throw... blood? The water that had been sent splashing in Kain's direction would easily glide in the air just as quick as the raining blood, if not quicker. What little blood had been tossed would be eradicated by the Holy essense of the water, being born of a demon. The demon himself was not spared however. Only a small portion of the water had made contact with the blood. The rest would easily land on Kain's wings and possibly his now exposed body.

With a mere two seconds remaining in Linken's Striker Assisst, he clamped his hands together in a praying manor, and as if done by magic, the water would flash freeze in it's new place. It would be a miracle for Kain's wings not to be completely frozen and shattered by the still rappid-firing stones. Sadly for the demon, Miracles only come to those who worshipped and would do their job for the Lord. Demons can do no such thing. "Start praying to Lucifer you foul beast." His two seconds were up, and returned to his post at the front of the cathedral, slowly but surely.

((Sorry I was a bit rusty last night. Edit-eru.))

((Wow.

Pause for Judges.))

((Error on my part for forgetting Kain's continued march towards Michael. But, also considering it was an ATTEMPT; does not equal fact. Shush now, judges will handle this one. No no, this is about you completely changing your post. And, Miracles do happen.

In Screen Capture form.))

[No, you completely editted your post. In no way were you using the holy water the first time. Thats all I'm gonna say for now, letting the judges decide the rest.

PS, in no way did Kain disregard the arena rules]

On Kain's blood - skin strip - splatter he felt the rumblings of the place around him, he figured it was the other trying to pull something else with his telekinesis. His attack was loosed ---

Quote: "Michael... Do wha---"

::

That was behind him--STRIKER! Well, what a waste to alert Kain of his presence. The Devil would go into a dead run towards Michael, thankful that he decided against the continuation of the stoning. But, just as Kain would make his first step he'd get showered with holy water.

With the added movement and time the Striker gave him from talking, the aim would be off, but the pain would be horrible. The 'X' pattern would land more so on the lower right side of his body. His wing would take the most, his skin sizzling from the blessed water, a hole formed where the crossing of the two streams met, his right hip bubbled as did a line that crossed along his back to his left shoulder. The bubbling would intensify against the sanctity of the place and would have muscle tissue exposed to the light.

The shock jolted the Devil further towards his opponent, his beastly cry given explicitly to Michael, the heat building much more in him.--

Quote: the water would flash freeze in it's new place Kain's muscles would contract, however, briefly and send him to his knees. The rising temperature was becoming enough though to melt the nasty frostbite and have it just run along his untouched skin with a burn. That was a sight, he actually began to steam from the water.

So, Michael was the fool and stood there braying like a hyena? Sure, some of the holy water got the blood, but not his flesh. And, since nothing was done about that it would land on Michaels chest.

Quote:

• Blood Mine - Where Kain's blood is, there's chance of explosion or fire. His blood is power and a conduit for his fiery energy. Through telepathic communication and energy transference, provided there is blood spilled from Kain's body, he can have the splatter, puddle, pool, etcetera blow up, like a bomb

Michael would be unpleasantly surprised as he feel something close to a solid punch to his left ribs as the bloodflesh exploded. The damage was not much but it'd get his attention real quick and it wouldn't feel very good. He'd be completely unprepared, wasn't even worried about the strip hurtling towards, didn't even make an effort to dodge. Without such preparation he could expect a nice bruise to form out of that, possibly take his breath away, if it weren't for the surprise alone.

Kain would take advantage of that and would thrust with his sword to hit just left (Michaels) of his midsection to stab him and keep him in his place.

[9/17]

((EDIT:: Clarification - in bold))

James scoffed. Kain's opponent seemed a little too cocky indeed. He'd be better off as an actual paladin versus a demon like Kain, rather then a weak man that relied too much on telepathic abilities. Get into the glory world of blood and guts like the real tried and true fighters, and anything was possible.

His hand twitched involuntarily. James hoped that the rest of Team Clashing Elements weren't such egotistic wussies, or he'd be bored, really bored.

Meanwhile, the kitty hissed at the other team and then resumed pawing at James's hair.

Deitric blinked - but didn't cringe. He'd seen blood and gore and war and this single fight didn't approach that, but the warrior had rarely seen such brutality in a one on one match - he was a fairly efficient and rough fighter himself, but he'd seen very little in comparison to what just happened, with the stab and air-suplex. He could hear what he thought must've been ribs cracking - it might've been either fighter, or both.

"I haven't given these people enough credit..," Deitric decided - he hadn't expected very much of the pale-faced Gaians - after all, he had faced similar foes before, foes who ran when they bled and when their guns couldn't be reloaded fast enough before a brave was upon him, removing scalp or head in a flurry of crimson.

The warrior sensed that the battle was going to be over soon - for both fighters, given the injuries both were sustaining - and quietly pulled the shield from his back propping it up against the pillar before doing the same with his spear. He left his other weapons on his person, though. They were what he wanted - not his spear and shield. They weren't what he needed for his coming match.

Too merciful.

"If you will indulge me, James, I'll fight next - against their captain. You should fight the one who uses the ice - it would be interesting, neh?" the tribesman spoke in his quiet, detached - almost cold - voice as he idly began to stretch, his turquoise eyes still watching the fight throughout his warm-up movements.

Michael winced. "You..." Shouting out psionically, not specifically. To everyone. Thank god he only used a few organs at a time. With Kain disoriented, Michael spun around him, Sword still inside of him, he was bleeding profusely. His eyes squinted enough for him to make out a clear target through the sweat running down his brow. A blood vessel just spontaneously bursted on his scalp, dying his hair a shade of red. The godlike man really did love this suit. But he did also like living. He made a mental focus of his clothes, eviscerating them instantaneously and throwing them all off to reveal a damascus steel pattern unitard, the disorienting patterns only broken by that large blade.

Michael glared at Kain again, pushing against him again. Not tilted to hit anything. But to launch him out the door completely with another similiarly powered push. "Dumb..." He kept the pressure this time. Like a constant gale of force and raw kinetic energy streaming from his mind to Kain out the door. Bleeding was none to becoming of him. A flash of insight came to him; He jump up into Kain with the sword still in his body, essentially trying at hilt jabbing him in the gut. But it would have also made some thing of a... Psionic magnet between the two. "a*****e. Can you direct that blood's explosion?" He was now trying to push the both of them out the door. The crowd saw this early, stopping their chanting almost immediately to clear a path for the two.

((Okay listen. We're moving at a pace of 3.5 posts a days... We have four days now to do two more fights. At this pace? It'd take another two or three days for this fight to end, and then we'd only have two days to do two fights. Pick up the God damn pace Bloodfire. -_-))

((And you don't post? Are you that worried about losing? D: Just freaking get your team leader to post already. I'm bored to hell with this crap. It's bad enough when I actually do get some action, it's completely ignored even when you made such a big deal out of it. Now we KNOW you're "on more frequently", or so you say, and we still don't get posts from you. BORED. D: Srsly. Get the lead out.))

Samuel shook his head, coughing at the altar before he rose, turning around. "Well, I just got god's permission to kick a** and take names. You know, like the pope only it isn't genocide" He said, grinning malevolently over to the other team captain. "When is this fight over, and how does he keep doing that? Nulling out random things that is." He rubbed his chin to it, clanking heard on his right wrist. "I mean, could've sworn I saw a psionic shockwave around the two like some sort of binding" He said, nodding. "Yeah. I am definitely picking up resonant psi cascades."

(no srsly, stop skimming.)

Linken24 Wrote:

((And you don't post? Are you that worried about losing? D: Just freaking get your team leader to post already. I'm bored to hell with this crap. It's bad enough when I actually do get some action, it's completely ignored even when you made such a big deal out of it. Now we KNOW you're "on more frequently", or so you say, and we still don't get posts from you. BORED. D: Srsly. Get the lead out.))

[It's Streea's fault, not Kain. Kain's been on consistently for most of the day. In fact, all of my team has been on for most of the day - every day. Why do you think I've had to constantly b***h at Sammi to get Streea on so we could finish the fight.

Want it to go faster?

Get him online more consistently. And then, once that fight is over, the rest of you can start posting consistently too.

End of discussion. And let's cut the OOC - it isn't needed or even warranted. It's just cluttering the thread.]

Deitric continued to watch the fight with only the same faint glimmer of interest. By now, he had warmed up as much as needed, and stood merely with his arms crossed over his chest, waiting.

[No more unneeded OOC in the thread, Fie. If you want to discuss anything, just do so in the Spectator's thread.]

Deitric wondered where the kitten had gone. Was James still holding onto the little thing?

James hadn't been holding onto the kitten, it was holding onto him.

"Mew" it purred softly.

It was hard to make out James's expression though, through the bishounen curtain of bangs.

There'd be more then one fangirl writing a yaoi about all of the hotter guys of the HoH tournament together tonight.

[Lulz. You make me laugh Linken. But yeah, thats enough OOC for now]

[It is now the fifth day of the tournament. There has been a one day extension, but it's still the fifth day, and as such I'm invoking the right to start another fight given that it doesn't look as if this one will end any time soon with Streea not posting.]

Deitric was tired of waiting. He reached down, gloved fingers gripping the resin-coated wooden haft of his tomahawk, pulling it from the belt-loop with a deft tug as he stepped forward. The fight was far down the length of the cathedral, near the entrance, he was standing somewhere between there and the altar, no obstructions except for the colonnades on both sides, rows of pillar marble.

The warrior pointed his tomahawk at Samuel, the look on his face still well detached and grim in its visage.

"You--"

He pointed the tomahawk's axe-head back at himself--

"--and me. No strikers, a straight fight between warriors. Hm?" Deitric stated, giving the hatchet-like weapon a quick spin before holding it down by his waist again, his right hand gripping the belt-buckle at his waist and them some above. He let the challenge hang, eying the other man stonily.

Fierach Wrote:

The kitten started to lick at James's head, . The young warrior didn't know whether it was showing affection or trying to groom itself and failing horribly.

"Hey!" he shook his head slightly and the adorable thing mewed. "Stop that or I'll dunk you in the holy water." he threatened half-heartedly. Thankfully, the kitten seemed to understand his words, and settled for just curling up on James's head and going to sleep.

Now he looked like he was wearing a turban. Great. The Eredas heir wondered when would be his chance to kick some a** as he watched Deitric step forth and challenge their captain. This should be fun.

Silent footsteps crept up behind this seated man, as a young girl eased her way over. Without a sound, a smile would ease its way across her lips as she carefully plucked the kitten from his head. With wide eyes, she studied the creature for a few moments before holding it snug in her arms to keep it warm. Twas a cutie, indeed.

Samuel sighed into his hand, shaking his head. "Fine fine-" He looked over to the other teammates letting some random person in. "Only if she's safely out of the way- That means out of the building. Chances are, with two fights shaking down at the same time this entire cathedral just might shake down with it." He said. He let his right hand down to his waist, shaking it around. Out from his long white sleeves shot twinblades hanging over his wrist. A mere 5 inches in front of his fist was the tip. "In fact, most of these spectators shouldn't even be in here. My attacks are rather blurry on the aiming- I don't give a damn about the sheep, but I don't want a card." His eyes shifted over and around the entire inside of the cathedral.

He steped onto the altar with that. "In light of that- Everyone." His voice got a damned lot more booming. "Get. The ******** out. There will be a lot of casualties if you all don't evacuate the building." He wasn't honestly insinuating his capabilities were that powerful- He'd noticed through a window a lot further down the road a giant dragon bursting out of nowhere. No no, he wasn't quite that good. His aim was... Rusty. "Haven't fought for a few months- If you'll excuse me..."

Samuel cracked his neck from side to side to quite a loud extent. A large amount of people cleared out through the back exit to see the coverage from the cameras instead of risking their lives. A few stayed. Sam threw a few quick jabs into the air, a flash kick. And then when he was staid in a basic martial arts stance he did a fullout uppercut flipkick, landing off the altar. "I'm ready."

Deitric nodded in agreement to the other fighter, taking a look around. It wouldn't be good to have a bunch of people wandering around during the fight.

"You heard him - either go up against the wall and watch, or amongst the pews, or outside once the other two fighters move from the entrance - we do not want anyone harmed," Deitric raised his voice when he spoke, and the crowds began to disperse with both the fighters suggesting it.

"You may start whenever you like, since Kain started the other bout," Deitric said, offering a slight nod. The girl would be safe standing behind James - he'd make a plenty fine body shield, in any case.

Samuel nodded, sending his shoulders back in a mock shrug. "Fine, fine. Let's not drag it on like jalapeno breath and mutey mcgee over there." He slammed his right knuckle into his own palm, producing a nice if not incredibly disturbing "CRUNK". He looked around the cathedral place. Ceasing to care about desecrating a house of god. If you're going to show off for the fans might as well do it in a rather badass way. He bobbed his head randomly, his entire body bobbing up and down and everywhere around in tandem, perfect cadence, no latence with the rest of his mind, moving as one. "Ever heard of Kaotic fighting?" He said, his voice still nice and booming for the cameras. He liked fighting, but showboating was fine too.

"It's popular- In the underground scene." His right hand flew back behind the rest of his body, his leg hopping along to follow it into a shoulder diagonal stance. The front of him started dancing a bit more like a mosh- Jerking constantly rather than smooth, undilated motion. And to counter that the back of his stance was flowing perfectly- Smooth motions, airy waves and a strange beat to his entire body. The beat reached out a bit, from his motions alone it was like he was making music into reality. He wasn't dancing to music - He'd paid up an audio tech just outside to start playing a song when he'd started fighting. - The music was dancing to his motion.

Samuel grinned widely. "And it just so happens that it's also incredibly acrobatic." He noted out loud as his back leg kicked out from under him and his right leg kicked down sending him flying in a fast path for a column, his right arm clasping onto it and letting go long enough for him to spin around and place his feet both on the column, curling himself up into a ball against the column to fully launch himself- reorienting back into a ball in mid flight- Turning into a humanoid cannonball.

[1/17]

Suffice to say, Deitric was more than a little surprised at the attack - it wasn't exactly what he was expecting. However, he knew how to meet it in kind. His opponent's previous show of dancing hadn't affected him either, but then again, he wasn't the sort of man that appreciated such things. He didn't answer his opponent's question either, but the silence and the look on his face was an obvious "no" answer.

When his opponent bounded off the white marble pillar, the warrior launched himself into a hard push - right for his opponent. He wouldn't have time to move fast, but the explosiveness of his initial push off was what he wanted - the suddenness and speed of his take off.

Just before it looked as if the turquoise eyed warrior would take a human-sized punch to the stomach, Deitric would launch himself into the air as well.

Feet first.

He'd thrown himself into the air feet first, aiming the scuffed, black biker boots for his opponent's airborne form. The smash wasn't going to be pleasant for either of them - if it landed, Deitric would be knocked back and hit the marble on his back, something that wasn't going to be an easy landing at all for the tribesman, and his opponent's flight would be halted and drop him to the ground as well. If the blow struck, Deitric would feel some pain in his legs when he tried to arise afterwards - his knees popping from the sudden pressure and release.

[1/17]

[EDIT:: Forgot to add the little post number thing. Nothing else has been changed.]

Sam happened to be in exactly the right rotation to land a**-first into the blow, giving an incredible shock up his spine. He unthinkingly shouted out "!$#% MUFFIN $@*(ING A PAN!" He shouted out, censored by almost all channels except the one australian one. Those silly aussies and their grade A Television filled with swearing and tits.

Regardless of oceanic media practices, Sam was still in mid-combat, flying back from the tomahawker who outweighed him by roughly 100 pounds. "Drrrnrnnnfggkgk" He went, pressing his hands against the ground and flipping back onto his feet, his right foot almost gave out. His a had literally just been kicked. Damn that stung, he'd have to make a mental note to not sit down for a while. He briefly flexed the muscles in his back, realigning his spine into working order without damaging any of the microbrains in the spinal fluid. There was a faint 'BEEP'- Okay not faint as much as incredibly annoying -sound coming from his a. 'repairs complete' Samuel glared and shouted... At his a**.

"REPAIRS COMPLETE MY YOU! THAT STILL HURTS LIKE A b*h!" He leapt back onto another column, the adverse surface to the gravity helping his throbbing... talking a. He sighed incredibly briefly, so much so that it sounded like he just coughed really loudly. He immediately afterwards launched off onto another column so he wouldn't just slide off. He launched himself against the ground nearby, rolling along into a position to simply punch his katar blades into the ground. Revealing his main power- He was briefly electrifying the ground nearby in an attempt to throw off the tomahawker's guard

[2/17]

Samuel merely got up off the ground and grinned. "Oh." He stated. Standing still for a bit. "Karma's a b***h. I beat ONE person before a tournament and the one I face first nulls out my kinetics. Beautiful." He said, the electricity flow between the two making something of a circuit in mid-air. They were currently standing in their own piste of sorts- Purple electric arcs flying off of Sam and onto Deitric and Sam getting hit by his enemy's blue energy. It was something of a beautiful display, making two girls looking in through some of the higher glassless windows go "Ahhhh..." Though at the light intensity of Sam's electrical output passively, the shock would only paralyze them and possibly drive them to orgasm.

And he didn't honestly need superpowers for that.

Unless that's considered a superpower in of itself.

Samuel stopped musing to himself immediately. "We seem to be similiar types. Pain cushions and electrical users... It should get interesting soon." Sam blinked a bit to himself, looking up to the ceiling whilst rubbing his chin. "However I'm sure cleverness plays into it somewhat," He said loudly, nodding as his left hand shot out- Keeping his electrical flow to himself this time electricity seemed to be arcing around in his hand. The columns each seemed to have silver crosses hanging on them somewhere. And Sam's eyes were skimming over them. The one closest, nearby enough to hit Deitric fell off its hook, beginning it's descent.

And of course, to completely ruin any surprise the attack would have had a nearby reporter with the gall to stay inside had just dusted himself off from the shock, a bright flash shot out at both of them as he shouted out "Headline: Death from above!"

[3/17]

(Cockblocked by the media. Man isn't that always how it is.)

The Khasmin tribesman still grinned slightly as the electrical storm played itself around them. Above, the harsh, artificial fluorescent lighting used to keep the place well-lit at night burst, showing glass shards all around like slivers of shining rain - but it wouldn't of damaged either of them. The room remained lit up, however - thanks in part because of the KISS-worthy show they were putting on with their powers, and because of the light of day outside.

Deitric rolled off to the side when his opponent's hand shot off - he didn't know about the cross, but at the same time, he didn't know the full extent of his opponent's abilities - for all he knew, he might've been able to use something like fire as well - and well, in Deitric's experience, someone's hand being flung out at you from a distance usually signaled some sort of ranged attack.

He was surprised when he didn't see anything coming as he rose up again, though. But from his new position, he saw the cross. It had been clever, that much was for sure. It probably wouldn't of knocked him out - they were usually wood with gold or silver over it, from what Deitric knew - but it'd of hurt whether it be wood or pure silver. Getting clocked by a cross was not on Deitric's "To do" list.

Now beside the pillar he'd laid his shield and spear to rest, the warrior eyed his opponent, keeping his senses open to the environment around him - the man was clever, that much was sure. However, Deitric had his own brand of sly thinking as well. He gave his shield a firm kick as soon as he was near it, sending it out between them - electricity arced between the boot and shield as he knocked it out into the open.

Shield Techniques Wrote:

__________|Arrow Catcher| Deitric can pump electricity into his shield, attracting any (magnetically-suspect) projectiles to his shield.

The red-skinned warrior had just used his Arrow Catcher technique, and with the amplified electricity in the air (no puns for those damn reporters), it was going to work better than he'd probably of hoped or wanted. Of course, if he were someone else, he might regret doing such a thing. But Deitric didn't regret anything - all he could do was persevere and push forward, ignoring any patches of trouble along the way, or just plowing through them.

Crosses, candelabras, bowls, everything that was metal and not a melee weapon began to rattle and shake, flying from their places in the cathedral towards the shield with an impressive amount of speed - magnetically drawn to it, both figuratively and literally. The air was alive with the whistle of the projectiles, and the camera crew would "OHSHIT" behind him as the sound guy was nearly clocked by a now-empty bowl. Other people would have to worry as well - but the attack wasn't intentionally meant to affect anyone but Samuel and himself. The others knew the risk by standing around in a combat zone, especially with the two men fighting now.

Of course, this posed a problem for both of the fighters - they weren't going to be safe from the flying projectile. Deitric hadn't enough time to even try and shield himself, but he managed to drop down into a kneel after the kick beside the pillar, a bowl smacking him on the shoulder and a candelabra managing to smack across his back - it'd probably leave a bruise and put him in a sour mood later.

However, whether or not his opponent would be so lucky in the cross-fire, one would just have to see.

[3/17]

[OOC: Gawd. Sorry for post length, dudes. Oh, and the technique doesn't affect melee weapons because it'd be unfair to block a sword or something and, you know.. have it stick to the shield.]

Deitric remained silent and impassive as the items smacked his shield. The shield was getting knocked away from the fighting area with the hit of each new addition to the growing collection of items attached to it, and taking every metal item with it. By the time the shield was well and far away from the two, their fighting area had literally been stripped clean of any metal items that they could have hurled at each other - and trying to pick up the small hoard of metal that his shield was the foundation of would have been hell for either of them, one would imagine. Why? Well, it was damn heavy.

"It seems so," Deitric responded as he rose back to a standing position. The metal storm was quite over, and the are they were fighting in was left barren of any metal - except the weapons of the two fighters that they had on their person, of course. Despite the flashy show he'd just managed to put on - which the news reporters probably loved, despite it hadn't been his intent to ever entertain the annoying suits - he didn't look shaken. It had just been a flash of insight to clear the fighting area of any possible items that would be good for catapulting at one another.

"I think we've suitably entertained the crowd - now how about we get down to fighting?" the warrior asked, a grin on his face that touched even his usually distant eyes. He seemed to be enjoying himself more than one would have expected from his typically dour look when he wasn't busy fighting - but so far it was proving to be nothing short of a spectacle worthy of the media's attention, as well as his own attention - a fight worth fighting, one could say.

He stood between the twin colonnades, holding his tomahawk down by his waist still. His stance was relaxed, with his feet shoulder-width apart. He could have been doing anything other than fighting, as it suggested - but that was because Deitric's own ways didn't rely on stances - it was simply happened - he struck when he struck, moved when he moved. There was no build, no structure - just efficiency. For now, he was more than curious about his opponent's armaments, and stood, waiting for his opponent to rise and meet him between the twin rows of marble pillars, some now chipped from the onslaught of metal from earlier.

[4/17]

One brow quirked up in a look of incredulity and surprise. This man was probably one of the flashiest fighters Deitric had met - his "not being static" warning had been an understatement. Sure, he didn't hurl fireballs or breathe clouds of acid, but at least in terms of melee combat, he was more than a little.. odd. Unlike his opponent, Deitric was a rather "grassroots" fighter - simple, but not predictable. He didn't figure he would even want to try and pull off the sort of attack his opponent was going for - it seemed to leave him a bit open. It was a wonder the man knew which direction to travel like that, but then again, experience with the technique probably taught him plenty.

As his opponent charged in his odd, saw-blade fashion, the warrior merely chucked his tomahawk at the man - a quick pump of his left arm sent the hatchetesque tribal weapon going haft over head towards the cartwheeling Samuel. It didn't take much effort on the part of the warrior to throw it - he'd been throwing 'hawks for a while now. The only thing was, it was pretty damn hard to aim on an opponent who's body was suddenly at a completely different angle than normal - and spinning, at that. But Deitric didn't mind - it would be sort of like playing a roulette will. Except it'd be body parts and places instead of numbers and colors. When the warrior loosed his own attack, a lightning arc of electricity connected his hand and the tomahawk for the first few feet of flight. It didn't add to the attack, it just 'charged' the weapon, giving it the same 'current' as the one flowing through Deitric's body.

After the aforementioned hurl of his primary weapon, the warrior simply moved back and to his right at a swift, loping pace - aiming to keep himself out of the opponent's original line of fire so he wouldn't get ran over, as it would have been if he'd stayed in place. Staying on the move was for the best, until the human pinwheel stopped - which would probably be soon, if the tomahawk throw worked.

[5/17]

"Ketu-a'nec."

The tomahawk whizzed past Samuel through the air at the utterance of the command word by its owner as soon as his opponent had managed to free it from the wound. The haft slapped into his outstretched hand soundly, a dull roar coming from those watching as the brave's weapon was returned to him, as if by some invisible phantasm. Of course, it was just a simple enchantment on the weapon that had been there for generations - a spoken command word in the local Khasmin language - specifically, his tribe's name - and it would return to the wielder.

The aquamarine hues of his eyes were still alight with the electrical power from before as he watched his charging opponent warily, keeping his tomahawk down the butt of the haft brushing against his belt as he held it near his left hip, letting his opponent charge - he'd stand his ground just fine. His other hand stayed gripping around his belt-buckle, waiting to see what sort of attack would actually come from the charge before committing to any sort of action such as a counter-charge or a dodge - no need to dive headfirst into a pool that might have no water in it.

[6/17]

The warrior would have blinked in surprise at the attack - but just as his opponent and countless others in the tournament, even surprise at another's tactics didn't faze him enough to make him give up even an iota of any advantage he could take. And he was going to take everything he could.

The red-skinned man lowered his stance swiftly as he started forward when his opponent went into the handspring-axekick attack. Where before, the Khasminic tribesman had merely been standing, the cameras of the crew off to the side would catch the explosive push of his legs that threw him forward, as if he were going to shoulder-check his opponent. The abrupt movement was impressive, especially for someone who, by all reports of media and otherwise, was completely human outside of a singular ability.

And he fully intended to do so - with the brunt of his shoulder, right into the small of the other man's back - which was why Deitric had lowered his stance so much more than usual, even though it'd been as natural as moving any other way. It was just his reaction to the attack - nothing planned or with any true forethought. Well, maybe just a little forethought - or, at the very least, the stroke of inspiration would hit him mid-attack.

Assuming he'd hit his opponent, he'd use his seventy-five pounds or so of extra muscle to really plow into Samuel. But he wasn't gonna stop there. His arms would move to wrap around the man's waist as soon as they collided, his right locking around the wrist of the left hand, and Deitric would lift his opponent up, carrying him, fully upside down, while running as hard as he could manage. Which, all considered, was pretty fast with that extra luggage, since he was leaning forward from the shoulder-check.

And what would he do? Well, there were pillars all around. So, simply put, Deitric was gonna run plenty hard and aim his opponent for the nearest pillar - then smash him against it while the man was upside down and in his lock-grip. Sure, he'd probably feel plenty of pain in his hands from it - since they'd be hitting the pillar as well. But then again, it would be worth it. Or, Deitric hoped so at least.

[7/17]

[OOC: It might sound so, but the latter portion isn't an auto-hit or anything. It's just a "This is what my character's gonna try and do if he's successful." Just making sure everything is clear.]

Kain's crimson smile grew wider once that annoying voice cut out.

"...heh heh heh heh..." His breath was wheezy and it pained his body to do it but it sure felt good to let it out. Next time Kain will register his psychic abilities for use. Fighting furniture half of the time wasn't his idea of fun.

Medical teams and random people hurried over to the wreck and hefted the weighty machine off of mangled Devil. He was quickly put on a stretcher where he found comfort and laid his eyes to rest.

The med-staff were aware of his regenerative properties, but felt they should bandage and splint the Devil. After they were finished wrapping his ribs they went for the wings but once they were touched the wings began to withdraw into his back.

Inside of the ambulance, which remained at the scene, Kain was able to watch Deitrics fight on the tele that was set up.

His body was certainly ******** up but his spirit kept him conscious, he had to stay up to support his team, even if he was a bloodied mummy.

Deitric's eyes had been down, for the most part, watching both his opponent and the immediate floor in front of them. He didn't need to look around - what, was the pillar gonna grow legs and walk off? Well, maybe, but he didn't think so. He was more than a little disturbed at his opponent's contortionist skills, and at first he didn't quite know what the man was doing.

Then it hit him. Fairly literally, at that. He watched his opponent's arms jab forward - no, wait, backwards at his thighs. The Khasminic warrior did the only thing he could - jump. Well, that was a relative term. They'd leave the ground, but it wasn't an Air Jordan worthy jump. It wasn't the best of ideas, but it was an idea, at least. He'd almost "Superman" in the air, or at least it'd look that way since he'd try to throw his body out in to be at least close to parallel with the floor.

The hand-blades had lanced into his legs, cutting past the tough denim of his keens to leave scathing gashes in his legs - not as deep as his opponent would have hoped, but enough to most certainly bleed him and probably hinder the warrior if he had continued to try and run. In fact, though the wounds might not be as deep as intended, they'd be much longer because his legs were moving back when the blades cut into them, lengthening the cuts but making them more shallow in return. There was no way he could have dodged, but by jumping and throwing his legs back as he'd tried to do, he'd manage to at least lessen the attack in someway. Crimson blood ran from the wounds, staining his jeans maroon. If he had lessened the blow, it sure didn't feel like he'd done much for himself.

But that was the kicker - he'd jumped. Oh, it was going to hurt in more than one way for him - he was already wincing from the cuts in his legs that burned like some sort of unholy fire - not because he was demonic, just because it hurt. However, jumping had its advantages - for one, his legs were back, meaning his opponent's head was the lowest thing in the mix of the two men.

Impromptu pile-driver, anyone? Almost all of Deitric's weight would be on his opponent as they both came crashing down - his opponent headfirst onto the marble floor, most likely, since he'd managed to get those damn metal knives up and into Deitric's legs. Which meant his arms probably wouldn't be there to try and take some of the weight - which was somewhere around three-hundred and seventy pounds, with both of them, all onto his opponent's head. Assuming it worked, once they'd manage to get ground-side again, the momentum of the running from before would send Deitric bucking forward and sprawling with little he could do to stop his movements. His own head found the ground rather painfully as his legs couldn't quite support him yet on his way down after his opponent, opening a nasty looking gash across the side of his temple. He rolled and managed to smack back-first into the pillar.

He didn't know what sort of condition his opponent would be in after the sudden jumble of panic that had sent them into the pile-driver/car crash that had been the mess of attacks, but the warrior would hook his tomahawk's head on the hook that had once held a cross up and pull himself up, the only change from his distant features being a distinct wince of pain. His legs were supporting him, but only barely. He was hoping his opponent's impromptu and passionate cranial-kiss with the hard, stone floor would knock him out. Even if it didn't, he'd hope for at least a few moments to gather his bearings. He was pretty sure his opponent had done some heavy damage to his right leg - it'd slow him down, but he wouldn't know how much until they were fighting again, if his opponent rose from crash.

"I was expecting something flashier..," Deitric grunted sarcastically as he leaned against the pillar. He sure as hell wasn't one to try and walk after that - not yet, anyways. He was fine where he was, slumping against the pillar, waiting to see just what he'd managed to do. Hopefully, he'd be able to move his legs well enough to continue fighting. But only time would tell.

[8/17]

Never say never --

-- That's the bottom line!

Deitric could feel the red warmth down his legs, ignoring his opponent's twitching and moving body. For a second - just a second - he panicked, but it didn't register on his features. He thought he might've been bleeding out, but his calm quickly did away with that notion - he'd of left one hell of a spray around here if he were bleeding out. He'd seen that plenty of times on the battlefield when bayonets and knives and spears hit just the right place on the thigh.

He could have attacked while his opponent was getting up, but he used those precious few seconds to calm and focus himself while tearing off a quick few strips of denim and pushing them into the gashes, gritting his teeth all the while. Deitric had to stall the bleeding at least a little. He was bleeding - but his opponent might be retarded now, who knew. He gave a quick shake of his head and gripped the hilt of his tomahawk until his knuckles grew white - he'd held onto it somehow through the movements.

He pushed himself off the pillar and hid his wince well. He felt his weight keenly in his legs, but they were steady enough for his liking - they hurt something fierce, but the cuts weren't as deep as he'd initially thought in his blood-soaked panic. They sure as hell weren't scratches, though - deep enough to cover the entire front of his upper leggings, but the denim had soaked up most blood that'd come out of him so far.

Deitric didn't want to move too much, though, so he stood in front of the pillar on his own two legs, eying his opponent, his features set with grim determination. His right hand returned back to the belt buckle again, the tomahawk held in the same position as before - he'd of charged if he could, but he didn't think that'd be in his best interests. Not until he was a little more sure of his legs.

"Well, come on then.. This crowd can't entertain themselves. And I somehow don't think I should be running too much..," Deitric laughed darkly - that was at least partially true. The crowd could probably entertain themselves if they had to. I mean, they'd handed a ******** kitten over to one of the fighters. They could probably be okay by themselves if the bloodsport stopped.

[9/17]

[Edit:: Put in the number counter and put in different lyrics because the original were fails D:<]

The warrior swatted the cross out of the way with his tomahawk, letting out a slight grunt. He thought he'd gotten rid of all those damn things. Must've been a few that hadn't been metal plated, like the one his opponent just tossed - which was now conveniently in various pieces on the floor, thanks to the biting edge of his tomahawk.

He reached up, dragging two bloody fingers over his cheeks, leaving crimson smears like war-paint over his skin. He wiped it off on the already bloodied pants and began forward, reaching down to finally draw out what he'd been gripping above his belt buckle the entire time - with a skinkt, the long knife was pulled free of its leather sheathe which had been tucked between the belt and the pants. The blade looked wickedly sharp, and the fine point it came to spoke of more than a few behind-the-back ambush stabbings.

"Then come over here and fight me," Deitric taunted, the blood from the gash on his temple leaving a crimson sheen down the left side of his face and neck - it didn't obscure his vision in the least, though. While he spoke, he took two steps forward - taking his time.

[10/17]

Deitric continued forward, offering only a shrug at first. He'd never seen either animal, except on TV. It was no use distracting him, though. He knew full well what his opponent was doing. Well, he at least knew he was stalling. He didn't know his opponent was going to try and steal some of his energy. Of course, his own power had since gone inactive - he couldn't maintain them for that long, so they'd shut off again.

There'd be nothing to siphon - Deitric didn't have any energy to give with his currently "switched off" ability. If he really needed to, he could bring it forth again, but at the cost of his own health, and he didn't need or want to do that, not right now. It would only weaken him further to try and concentrate on using a power that, as far as he could tell, didn't harm his enemy.

"If you want to talk, maybe you should concede," Deitric suggested mockingly as he began to charge his opponent suddenly, ignoring the dull throb of pain stretching its tendrils through his legs and lower abdomen. Despite the injuries to his legs, he could still carry on - though his normally long, loping strides were clipped, he was still moving with an impressive speed, given the injuries at hand. He looked as if he was going to just shoulder-block the man again, as neither of his weapons were raised, just there in his hands at waist level.

[11/17]

Sam sighed. "Oh, come on. Fine. Elephino. Are you happy? I ruined the damn joke." He said, his voice slipping as his mouth stretched into a smirk at the tomahawker bull rushing him. He shrugged, such an attack seemed to mimic himself early on in the fight. One of the women earlier who had been peering in shouted out "No! Move out of the way!" Samuel heard it, not registering it as someone he knew. He was picking up a fanbase?

Awesome, groupies.

Samuel was uplifted by the sudden outburst of someone he'd never heard. His left hand slammed into the ground, his foot kicking against the ground so both his legs together moved in a sweeping motion directly against Deitric's velocity, if Sam could manage to get his legs high enough in the air, he was aiming to slam his feet into the wound he'd inflicted earlier.

(s**t I need caffeine, I'm starting to suck with these posts.)

[12/17]

Samuel stopped, collaborated and listened. He was back... With a brand new invention.

Samuel stopped in mid-sweep. Not horizontal motion- along an entirely different axis. He saw that knife shining as it went down, Sam was just fast enough to manage to twist himself around enough to get his right arm on the ground in place, sending his left leg up INTO The knife. Once again a metal scraping sound filled the air, making a few mediamen in the background wince. This one had taken a fairer chunk out of his leg, rending enough steel from... More steel to expose another layer over the inner skeleton of his bionic leg. Sam didn't stop there, though.

Sam began spinning his hips around and up into the air, hopefully flinging the knife somewhere else. But knowing the indian, he probably had some native american word to call it back, too. Samuel wasn't put off by that, though- In fact, whether or not it flung it out he was up on his feet again a few feet back... Singing.

"I got a lot of nerve and I'm ready to dance~ I'm on my way."

[13/17]

And then James had to play the good guy. The rather handsome, and young third member of team Bloodfyre approached the crowd that was trying to move in and get a closer look. They were starting to get even wilder though, a few fangirls pushing their way to the front and screaming vows of love, reporters now yelling at him, his team this, his team that.

What was his mode of combat. Whether he was single. The kitty that was perched on his shoulder made a few people coo. Then came questions like, if he was a cat person, did he support PETA.

So seriously, next thing you know, there'd be paparazzi all over the face.

James held up a hand to stall the forthcoming questions as he closed and spoke firmly in a low and casual tone, addressing the crowd. "Alright, as a member of Team Bloodfyre, I must respectfully request that you obey the wishes of the current fighting pair. Nobody else should run the risk of being hurt besides the contestants, and that... is final".

He glanced about, eyes narrowed under his pretty-boy bangs and looks. James had the type of grace and charm that came easily to young, ambitious, and inspired men.

"Are we clear?" he asked. Most of the people nodded or gave some indication. The Eredas heir was serious. As he started to turn about to continue watching the match though, a reporter accosted him.

"Excuse me sir, but the public doesn't really know too much about you, despite your teammates being better known. Can we, perhaps, grab a sound bite from you? Mr. Eredas?"

"Hmm?" James turned questioningly to the reporter.

"What are your thoughts for the rest of HoH?"

"My thoughts huh... well... they... better be ready" James smiled.

"Resistance is flammable" he added cryptically, turning to watch the fight now.

"Well there you have it folks, golden words from one of the newest HoH entrants, James Eredas!"

Needless to say, the awesome and cool way the man just delivered that line made some of the closer fangirls swoon. Yay! More fans! Not that James cared too much for show business though.

Samuel looked around, sighing. Any lightshow he would put off now could seriously flatline half a dozen people. Ceasing and desisting entirely, his emerald vest swayed in the air. Samuel was able to recognize most attacks if he was facing forward- As a matter of fact, he ducked back and deflected the spear with his right hand instead, blue energy goo shooting out of the 'wound' of sorts. Sam shook his head, saying "How long 'til this fight is over and done with, anyway? We won't have time for the third match any way you look at it..." Samuel nodded, gripping his metallic right hand into a fist with numerous loud 'clanks' and 'cranks'.

Pistons were still shooting out steam from behind him. In fact, an increased output. Sam was still grinding on his fist, producing more steam. It seemed like... As if...

Yep, it was pretty blinding for both of them. It cut off most the media could see, and at the rate of steam output most of them would probably get a bit Pruny. But there was something very easy to hear- Two seperate footsteps echoing. One set to the right of Deitric, one to the left. It could be heard with the clicks of metal against the solid sound of stone. Disorienting, yes. Deitric had a choice to make there...

[I'll be back... Later tonight.]

[14/17]

There was silence for a while. In fact, the steam completely faded. Sam was neither left nor right- Though, the blades on his boots... Those were both discarded in opposing directions on the ground. Samuel was... Nowhere to be seen. With all the cameras focused on the steambath, the color commentators going mad thinking Sam had run away. That might just end the fight- The sheer suspicion that Sam was gone.

"Where..." The female reporter went, tilting her glasses down her nose. "Did he go?"

'GABAMN!!!' Stone flying every which way! An entire stone column shattered out of nowhere- "Oh my god, an entire stone column of the Durem Cathedral! Blown up before your very eyes!" The spectators were intent on staying near the fight. But nooooot that near, they ran off at the sight of the stone flying around in a hurricane. Reporters were all shouting at their camera men and sound crews to get it on tape. It was a display even better than the laser rock show earlier on.

What's that--- In the sky?!

Is it a bird?! A plane?!

No! It's Sam flying down from the very top of the column, hands-first with gravity and velocity behind him! The blades strapped onto his wrist gleaming despite the dust- glowing despite the dark! Sam shouted out in a victorious screech "HA-HAAAAAA!"

[15/17]

[Haaah. To quote Big trouble in little china... It wasn't eeeeassyyyyyy.]

It had really been a b***h for Sam to keep a grip up the column, let alone climb it. Let alone SILENTLY. Samuel cracked his wrist loudly, "Deitric..." Samuel said, his voice seemingly lighting up the dust. His figure, ponytail, coat, blades- All were seen in a perfectly sharp silhouette as he strode. "I'll ask you nicely here, since I don't want to seem rude." His eyes flashed, like a lightning storm. Visible through the smokescreen.

"Please," Samuel's hands both cracked loudly, his left gripping and his right reconfiguring its articulations. His mind was blank. The flesh part of it was, atleast. He'd banged himself up in the landing. Cosmetically, mostly. The goo in his leg wasn't hardening, and his fleshen right leg was bleeding profusely up and down. "Would you kindly..." His hair was mangy, and his fast was covered in dirt. One could visibly see a metal piece on the right side of his cheek through where synthetic skin was ripped up.

"Bleed, for me?" His emerald vest. Dyed with blood and charged deuterum in random places. The deuterium dyed areas letting smoke rise from the sheer energy output of the heavy hydrogen... How funny it was that the most damage he's taken the fight was self-inflicted. His muscled leg flexed immediately, bruises visible through some ripped parts of his new denim blue jeans. His legs started moving, pumping back and forth. He was moving himself into another charge for Deitric. He knew his katar blades were non-ferrous.

They were untouchable by his magnetic pull, before he even got to his indian adversary, he'd flung out of the katar's sockets both blades in the general direction of Deitric's torso, continuing his charge with both hands extended. This time, instead of blades he simply had the shields activated over his fists to give an extra toastiness to any hit he would be able to land.

[16/17]

Samuel was completely unfaltered, still moving on ahead. He reared to the side to completely dodge the first spear. But after seeing them just start flying out... His mind blanked again. His fist pulled back into the air behind him, muscles crackling. Flexing. Beating. Throbbing. Every muscle or pseudomuscle in his body was getting a workout with that one punch- Completely shattering an oncoming shield. "Sare." He said blankly, before pulling back his other arm. Energy sparking up and down his arm, depositing in the back of his shoulderblades.

"Sare... Sare... Sare! SARE! SARE! SARE! SARE SARE SARESARESARESARSARSASASASASASASASASASASASA" He screamed out as his torso went back and forth and to and fro, twisting around to completely shatter any oncoming shields. Energy expended all within him to maintain the incredible speed he was putting out, and to maintain the shield power so his hands wouldn't be split in two like any of these spears are being so.

"SASASASASASASASASASASASASAAAAA-" Samuel was inadvertently spawning energy arcs from the back of his shoulderblades. The shields flattening out and reforming after every strike, sending shockwaves down his arms. Purple energy rings were shooting off and around his shoulderblades, all the while breaking apart into small glowing sparks. There were more near his head than anything. It was almost like a godsend. Some sort of...

Samuel leapt up, his para-wings of energy falling down below him as he screamed in mid-air "SARE TIL ME!!!" His hands raised over his head, grasped together to make one singular giant fist. Sparking with energy as the entire energy wings he was seeming to form dumped into his fists for a giant lightshow in mid-air. Like fireworks were erupting from his hands. It was his last attack, and it was either going to cause some nice collateral or knock his enemy out. Either is fine.

(Sare is Norwegian for hurt. Or as Sam is using it in this case, Break. 'Sare til me' is... "Break for me!!!".

Atleast I'm not talking in nonsensical japanese.)

Samuel mustered any strength he had left. It didn't matter any more, the match was over. But he'd much rather have a stomach with no hole in it- Samuel's hand barely dropped down enough for the sheer electric power to push the spear down and against- It still ripped a small hole in his lower torso, with or without force. Samuel was launched up into the ceiling all the same, but slightly off mark. Samuel simply... Fell off of the ceiling, onto one of the window archways with no glass.

Barely still conscious, his systems chimed in. "Internal energy levels are at approximately 3%. This energy level will last 120 minutes before mechanical structures can no longer support themselves- Mechanical hull composition is battered. Aerodynamics down by 80%. Flesh composition is cut at various intervals- There is a wound approximately 1 inch from a vital organ. Suggestive medical car-- Samuel shut off his system's vocalization processor matrix. There was a tug at his shoulder.

People were pulling him down. Fans. Win or lose... Atleast he had earned some moderate amount of recognition.

[Final]

(Total copout, but the fight technically ended without crippling on either anyway. <_< Meaning this post counts for... Diddly squat.)

[I'll be here tomorrow night. I have labs and s**t that make up most of Thursday.

Just my luck huh? I might be able to squeeze in a tiny match, but its the day I'm busiest on ]

James gave Deitric a thumbs up as he passed by. "You did good" he said encouragingly. That last fight, simply put, was awesome, it was much better then the ******** that came before it.

James then handed the kitten over to Deitric, after all, he couldn't carry the critter into a fight or anything.

James stepped up into the ruined insides of the cathedral, benches, stone, and pieces of pillars lay shattered, like, everywhere. He rolled up his sleeves to check his FIGHTER.

Well ********. Not much time left, barely any for a real fight.

"Well" he announced, "we only got time for a short spar, so, we might as well, I'm gettin' antsy" he gestured toward the other team. "Who's up? One on one till the end of time, no strikers"

After much fuss from the Devilman finally had a pair of paramedics wheel him into the Cathedral on a stretcher.

"HA HAA! Deitric, well done, ol' bob!"

His arms were upraised in a victorious hailing to his Vice, his voice was grating and wheezy.

The medics brought Kain to lay at his teams sidelines and propped the back of the stretcher up so that he could be more comfortable.

"I watched you on the screen outside, that was a good fight, man."

Kain took a puff from his cigar, his smokes had been crushed so a fan had given him a stogey.

"Glad to see you didn't get too roughed up---..don't suppose I could snag my kitten back?"

"Sooo....what's the deal here? Where's James' opponent?"

He blew the smoke from his lungs with some aggravation.

Time was almost up and James was going to have to go without a fight. What a shitty buzz for him.

"If he was going for fashionably late he's dated right about now..."

He squirmed in his bed trying to find a more comfortable placement while at the same time trying not to disturb the sleeping kitten...he was going to have to find a name for that thing.

There'd be a few cracking sounds as his bones righted themselves in his body. For the best, but not a pleasant feeling or sound.

James's FIGHTER beeped. Somewhat annoyed, the young fighter rolled up his sleeve to check it.

Time... over?

Well son of a b***h.

Son of a b***h.

Madre de dios.

Any onlooker could easily see that the Eredas heir wasn't happy about something. James backed out of the ruined cathedral grounds and started simply walking away.

He'd pause by his teammates though, to deliver a short message. "Well, I'm out for the day" he spoke, in a low and strained voice, obviously fighting back the massive wave of ANGRY that was within him at the moment. "Take care and try not to get banged up so badly in the next match alright, you guys know where to find me".

It wasn't hard too tell what was on James's mind, at all as he walked away and headed toward his girlfriend's crimson Dodge Viper. Even though he allowed his bangs to flow down the sides of his face handsomely, the pissed off expression could easily be deduced by the upturned corners of his mouth.

Test.