Olde Durem Opera

OLDE DUREM OPERA

High class patrons wait for the curtain to be drawn on Durem’s oldest stage to reveal the latest fight. Due to scheduling conflicts the lighting and set pieces are still on stage after the final performance of the famous Gaian Opera “Catlady Butterfly”.

As one of the oldest buildings in Durem some of the technology is antique. The cutting of ropes, pulling of curtains, and general aftereffects of fighting can cause set pieces, sandbags, lighting, or even the catwalk to come loose.

Terrain

General - While the actual fighting area is limited to the stage and imediate, the sets, orchestra pit, curtains and catwalks should make more than enough room for even the most acrobatic fighters.

Weapons - Prop weapons, sandbags, set pieces.

Bonus Effects - The balconies are full with high class patrons, careful of the dreaded blue card.

Callista Tenma Wrote:

Ah, round four was upon them already. And this time, it was within a large opera house; Gaia's finest. But the stage was currently lacking of actors. And the audience was become restless, whispering amongst themselves-- "Where are the fighters? When will the show start?"

Then, a spotlight would shine center stage, illuminating a small circle with light. and slowly, from a trap door in the stage floor, a figure would rise. A long, billowing dress hung from a curvatious body, and a heavy scythe stood vertical in the figure's right hand. As the person rose into the light, she was revealed: Callista Tenma from Team Nephilim. The crowd went silent. And they waited.

Callista took two steps forward, and cleared her throat. Then, she began to sing.

Her melodious voice echoed through the large establishment, her song resonating to the highest balconies and the farthest seats. Her song had no words, but only a harmonic tune, ranging high and low.

She closed her song, faintly, and the audience began to clap. That was when Callista would press a button on her brand new Ipod, which hung at her hip. She pressed a button, and the speakers around the auditorium boomed with heavy music.

Azel was sitting in the back, behind the curtains, listening to Callista sing. He didn't know that she could. But it wasn't half bad. He listened to the whispers of the audience and sighed. So far, this tournament hadn't really given him a chance to shine. But, if all went well, this fight would be different. They were fighting the same team they had in the Preliminaries. Team Fracture. They were one of the stronger teams in the tournament, which made Azel happy. And he really was looking forward to fighting Rage again. That had been the most fun.

He looked up as the lights turned upon Athan. He smiled. Athan was a beast, with a monstrous sword. If Dante had to fight him again, it would prove more difficult. Azel took his chair and stood up. Suddenly, he tossed it a bit in front of him and then ran forward, jumping onto the chair and making it skid into the center of the stage. The light suddenly came upon him. He would be standing there, arms out wide, his head low in a bow. He then looked up, gazing at the crowd.

"Who's ready for a show!"

He was making the crowd excited, making them ready for a real fight. He jumped from the chair and shot his right leg back, kicking the chair back behind the curtain. Hopefully, the fights would begin soon.

Something seemed to be wrong with the lights; without any warning, the entire building went almost completely dark...

G-DUSH.

... save for a single spotlight that centered upon a young woman with green hair pinned up on the back of her head, a bandanna covering her hair despite the matching blue dress she wore - some sort of bizarre Gaian period piece that didn't seem like it had much of a place anywhere. Her left hand was held out towards the crowd, while her right gripped a skull that looked suspiciously plastic.

"All the world is a stage, and we are merely the players! Guided along by the unseen hand of fate, the unseen strings of the puppeteer pulling us towards an unseen goal."

The right lowered slightly, holding the skull at chest-level now while she stepped forward, left hand making almost random-looking, broad, sweeping motions. The spotlight followed her closely, her shadow elongating the further she moved forward.

"But!

Perhaps fate is not so fickle as to simply toy with us as a child plays. Perhaps he is willing to spare us a moment of reprieve to forge our own fate, to change the unchangeable, to live lives that were previously under his control!"

He stopped at the edge of the stage, the skull now being held high in the air. "Or perhaps what you will witness this day is a triumph of those who have shrugged off the unseen hand, blazed their own trail free of any restrictions. They have cut the binds of the puppet master, and here they make their stand! Their flaws have been laid evident for the world to see; the chinks in the armor, the FRACTURE that runs through to the very soul!"

As if on cue, fissures began to appear in the skull, small pieces popping off here and there.

"And here the heroes make their stand, a dramatic battle, a tale of woe and victory, a tale that shall be written by and for the heroes that partook in the grand fight!"

She dropped to her right knee, placing the skull on the ground next to her.

"And so begins the tale of the family Fracture," she said with her head lowered almost to her bent knee. "A battle of wits, strength, determination...."

The spotlight ceased, leaving only a burning outline of the woman into the eyes of the patrons watching.

"... and victory."

Despite the low light, Sakura manage to find her way back to her teammates. It wasn't that hard... she just had to walk away from the sound of the audience clapping and cheering. Some cried.

"It's not that hard, Biggie."

Yes. She was now calling Athan "Biggie."

"They don't know a damn thing about fighting, but these posh types always love a good show."

She didn't stop as she spoke, instead muttering to herself about changing and ill-fitting clothes before the fights began....

The stage is all set..

Suddenly, in the middle of the woman's wonderful speech, the lights went out once more. The woman could most-likely still be heard until the sound of a mad man wailing on the keys of a loud pipe organ filled the Opera Hall. The wicked sound of the wind through the pipes covered the woman's voice like a blanket. The tune was quickly accompanied by instruments from the orchestra, but it was a bit more unorthodox for an opera. The sound of power cords being struck on an electric guitar and drums being beaten played in perfect harmony with the pipe organ to make a rather bad-a** song called "The Phantom of The Opera".

The patrons of this opera didn't want to hear some boring inspirational speech combined with Shakespeare. They were here for the music and the show. Thus, that's what Dante would give them. He would give them what they wanted. A single spot light would turn on and pan over the crowd as if to search for something. Slowly it would come to a halt on the main isle. Standing with his head down was a man of slender proportions. Raising his head, the masked Dante revealed his presence. He shifted his arm out from a long cascading cape to show the crowd a single rose held in his palm. With the flick of his wrist, he tossed it into the crowd to hear a slight scuffle amongst women. He didn't stay to watch. The mysterious phantom strolled straight up to the stage, where he would take center stage..his proper place. This was HIS show now.

So let the show begin!

Someone was still clapping when the music stopped and everyone came to their senses- slow, drawn out claps so obnoxiously distinguished that it was usually reserved for villains and intense displays of sarcasm.

No spotlight moved- no bribes had been exchanged here. Camera crews turned, zooming in on a figure in all the shadow the fancy lightwork was casting in the first seating set to the stage, the seat high, practically looking straight down upon the action to come. Seats that had been filled for the play, but since cleared- all the first few rows were emptied for sake of the spectator's safety in the oft messy Heaven or Hell fights.

A lone figure stepped toward the edge of balcony booth, indistinguishable in the darkness only accentuated by the single stark light focused on the stage.

-clap, clap, clap-

-clap-

"Very touching, exciting, very..."

Cameras zoomed in, fighting to focus on a figure cast in darkness distinguished by its contrast with the light all the others were fighting to bathe in. Shape of a man, and the bloody red glint in the light. Two red eyes.

"...melodramatic."

The figure set a foot up on the wall, leaning forward on arms crossed over its knee. The red eyes turned away from Fracture, over to the camera crews for its moment of silence, and then gradually slid onto Team Nephilim. The red eyes stayed, boring down- but was there another glint they were catching?

"Fine displays of showmanship, but it's like watching a batch of talented children, all ruining the show bickering over the spotlight- literally.

"Tch."

The other foot stepped up, and the shadowy mystery man came erect, holding up beside him a long line of silvery sheen, drawn up and before his face.

"I think you misunderstand the nature of our place. We aren't gathered to look pretty and feel special, there are better actors. We were all sought out to do exactly what we live- thrive- on. We're here to show them-"

Bursting forward without warning, the figure leapt off the platform mid sentence, grasping a hold of a long rope hanging down by the side of the stage. The line fell, sweeping the backcurtain open, flashing the painstakingly painted backdrop for all, the final scene-

The silvery line fell, and the figure landed hard, sending vibration across the wooden stage as the long double edged blade in front of him drove deep into the wooden flooring. Head rose, red eyes sliding their focus across the stark world of contrast set around it, that of color faded in the blinding white and that intense, swallowed in the darkness. Glimmering in the threshold between the lands of shadow and shimmer, the eyes moved onto the scene cast for them.

-bleak land of ash and chaos, redwash and ugly brown, black and grey clashing. A sky filled with smoke and angry sun, the land spread thick with dead and dying, horse and man draped across the eath with weapons abandoned in the desperate fight not for victory, but life, that each fallen fought alone.

"-blood."

Hand slid up the hilt, laying upon the pommel as the figure straightened, and then sliding to the other side of the grip, tightening once more.

There's no need to sing and shout. The battle is our song.

"So who wants to open the show?"

More theatrics. Perhaps losing the invincible aura their team had held was making some of the other members a tad crazy, or maybe Athan was just getting too uptight about his team's behavior.

As Kael's sword came to stab into the stage flooring, all Athan did was take a single step back, making sure the weapon didn't go clean through his foot or something. It was hard to tell with only one light working. The sword would actually land about four feet in front of Athan, so when Kael went to retrieve his sword he'd be close enough to Athan for an exchange of words.

"Would've thought you weren't into that stuff."

He shook his head and moved back to center stage, stepping past Kael in the process.

"I'll handle this."

Just as he finished speaking the majority of the lights above the stage flared to life, basking both teams in light and probably causing a painful sting to most of their eyes without proper warning being given.

Retrieving from his pocket a single roll of athletic tape, Athan set to work wrapping the palm and mid forearm of his right hand. A ritual that, up until this round, had pretty much been forgotten by the big guy. His left hand would receive the same treatment, but the moment he was done wrapping the hand a black arm guard was slid on, Athan's fingers curling inwards, forming a fist to make sure that the fit was snug. Only then would he relax his hand and turn away from the crowd, focusing his attention on Nephilim's side of the stage.

"Which one of you is up?"

"Well, you sort of had a point," said Sakura, on Kael's heels and giving a slight shrug. She made it a point to pick up her skull from earlier, which she idly tossed up and down in her left hand. "People came here to watch the fights, not a bunch of bad actors."

When she reached the front row, she removed a small "Reserved" sign from the chair next to Kael, turned on her heel, and flopped backwards into the seat. It was pretty comfortable, actually, although it seemed she was wriggling around a lot.

If Kael had glanced over at her, he might notice why; none of her clothes fit. Rather, they looked like they were for a larger person, the sleeves on her button-down shirt rolled up high just so she could have free use of her hands, and the legs of her hip-hanging jeans rolled into her shoes so they'd stay out of the way of her feet. She seemed to be wearing a spandex outfit that looked more like it belonged on a professional bicyclist than on a fighter in the tournament.

She finally found a comfortable position and settled with it, waiting to see which member of Nephilim would step up to take on Athan.

How very poetic. Team Nephilim and Team Fracture meeting once again, but this time it was for real. When the two first met it meant absolutely nothing. Now with Fracture under the gun, Dante knew it was finally time to prove himself. Desperation can often bring out the best in people, and that's exactly what Dante was hoping for. Tenma's ambitions of becoming recognized and show his worth were beginning to override whatever past team ambitions he had once had. He was going to achieve those ambitions in this fight by fighting one of the most talked-about teams in HoH.

Jaded eyes fixed on Athan as he resurfaced into the illumination of the stage. Tenma couldn't seem to fight off a cocky grin as he stared the hulking man down. " Fancy meeting you here," Dante said with a light chuckle as he gripped the cloth of his cape from his shoulder. " Let's give them a show big guy," he said with a smile. It was obvious that Athan had no taste for the theatrics, but Dante would continue his speech. Maybe it was a way of keeping loose. Nephilim were the underdogs, again. Suddenly, the orchestra pit would become alive with sound as the members began to play a very light tune. " Ah, a duet! It shall be known as The Eve of Destruction, Part One!"

All hesitation was left behind as Dante yanked hard on the long cape that was part of his costume. The cape was lobbed into the air to descend down off the side of the stage. Tenma wore the usual pair of black jeans and a crimson collared shirt. Though, Tenma's attire was not the only thing revealed by the removal of the cape. Two kunai knives were held in his left hand with the bright theater lights reflecting off them. It was simple. He'd c**k back and launch the two projectiles with decent accuracy and more so impressive speed. They were aimed for Athan's chest area. The curtains are raised and the show has begun!

[1]

Azel would be behind stage again, watching the fight from there. The rest of the two teams were there, watching as well. His eyebrow rose when he saw that one of Dante's kunai had actually hit its target. That was too easy. Athan would not be that easy to beat. And as those thoughts ran through his head, he saw Athan take out the massive sword and swing, aiming at his team mate and friend. He hoped that Dante could avoid the swing, and had confidence he could. He turned to the other's gathered around and looked for Rage, but could not find him. The only person that he didn't recognize was a girl that reminded him of Rage. A lot.

"Hey, lady. Where is Rage? I was hoping to fight him again."

Tenma's pale lips spread back into a frown as he saw one of the kunai make contact. That was too easy.., Dante thought as he watched the man bring the sword forth from his back. What exactly was this behemoth capable of ?

Staying light on his feet, Dante would be quick to react as he watched Athan bring the sword over. His right foot made a quick step back to lean away from the blade as it would come down before him. When it would initially come down, he was merely inches away from the blade's tip, but he would follow up his first step with a series of two or three more that looked almost like he had stumbled back. Grasping his balance, he would be a good foot or two out of the blades reach for the moment. Now he had to think quick. He was fighting a more physically powerful opponent so he had to out maneuver and use tactical planning as best as he could to overcome this disadvantage. The environment was a bit limiting. The set had some small props from what seemed like a castle scene, but nothing that would rule in his favor. As Dante stumbled back, something caught his eye high above the two though. For now though, he would have to rely on his own inventory and abilities.

With Athan most likely ready to advance, Dante wanted to be ready. Still on his toes, Dante's right hand would slide down to grasp a single kunai knife. Tenma's edgy canine eyes would remain on Athan the entire time.

[2]

Dante's eyes shifted from Athan to somewhere up above the two for a split second before the man began to move once again. He took mental note of the small destruction of the stage floor as it caught his eye, but he wouldn't worry much about it. He was more so worried about the advancing behemoth before him.

Dante would step forward, turning his body to the left so that the blade would be aimed at his abdominals more so than his side. Drawing his body down slightly, the blade would make final contact at his chest area. Using the steel-forearm protectors hidden under his sleeves, he would take the brute of the force. Tenma's mouth opened to relay a light grunt as he was hit with the side of the blade. With his body low, the force of the blade would send him sliding onto his back to come to a halt only a few feet away. Dante cringed as he landed with a light thud. Immediately after hitting the floor, Dante would roll to his side to pick himself up in a crouched position. As he did so, his free left hand would slide behind his back to pull forth something from the small inventory pouch on his waist. His left hand would quickly make a jolting motion towards the ground to release whatever he had grasped. The three small, sphere shaped smoke bombs that the had been grasped would smash against the floor, exploding with three clouds of fairly thick smoke that would combine to one. The cloud was just enough to cover the two fighters and a bit of spare room for a brief while.

What could have been a fairly difficult position to be in would now become Dante's advantage. Using his amplified canine senses he would be able to track Athan through the cloud. Dante would throw the kunai held in his right hand. This time he aimed to Athan's left side to the ribs. With Tenma's ears fully alert, if Athan moved he would be aware of his position. Such a large man would give the greatest of footsteps to follow.

[3]

Being of canine ancestry, Dante found it somewhat easier to move in low positions than most could. His body was obviously built to walk upright, but something about him made being on all fours or hunched over quite easy. Sticking low to the ground where the smoke was thickest, he would use this to his advantage as much as possible. When Athan would charge, Dante would spring off his back feet and left hand to shift to the right(Athan's left) of the blade. With Athan still moving, the point of the blade would be far enough past him that he felt a bit secure. Dante would merely shift his right hand across his chest so that the kunai knife would catch the side of Athan's left thigh as he ran buy. It wouldn't be anything severe..just a nice sized gash.

Assuming this would not stop the mighty Cole Train, Dante would remain in his position as Athan ran past. As long as the man traveled at least three or so feet past Dante, he would be hidden in the depth of the smoke. Using the same kunai that would be to slash, he would throw it aimed to where Athan's back should have been. He was really going off of mere footing sound and the size of the man. At a time like this being precise wasn't an option. This was all assuming he'd pass Dante.

[4]

It was like watching a kid swinging a stick at a Pinata and missing. The only thing different was that Athan had a REALLY big stick. It was a shot in the dark following an educated guess, but Dante wasn't about to take any chances and ruin things here. Hearing the step was Dante's only clue. Had it been a few steps he would've known Athan was advancing, but it was a step and plant. He didn't know how exactly the blade would be coming in, but he knew he had to get out of the way quick. He would merely spring off his feet to push himself backwards away from the sword. Following his spring, he would move into a roll to make his distance greater. With the blade turned to the side, the wind drag would slow the blade down a tiny bit. Thus Dante would escape once again. Though, this time he would leave Athan a little something to chew on.

The attack would be successful of one thing, and that would be to move the smoke. A good majority of the smoke was pushed to the side by the blade. Though Dante didn't mind much. The smoke had served its purpose. It wouldn't have lasted much longer anyway, especially with Dante's upcoming attack. As Dante would spring away, he would drop a single kunai from the holster on his right. It would seem a bit pointless, but this kunai was different. Hidden in the smoke, the kunai handle was wrapped by an inscribed parchment called an Explosive Tag. With a tiny bit of stored chakra, the tag would ignite. A slight hiss would be heard, but by then it would be two late.

Boom!

The explosive tag would do just what it was named for..Explode. It was a small explosion, only about 5 or so feet around. With Athan's swing, it would put him right on the edge of the explosion. He would take the least of the concussive force, but he would be subject to the splintering floor that sent shrapnel into the air. In place of the explosion, the floor would have a rather large hole as well as some damage to the stage floor around the hole, but it wasn't severe enough to destroy the entire stage or cause any major damage.

[5]

Dante remained positioned on his back while he watched it all unfold. The smoke had, for the most part, dissipated with Athan's swing and the explosion. Dante smiled as he watched Athan's act of frustration. The five sandbags descended and hit the ground hard, bursting with sand all over the floor. One of the five landed only about a foot to Dante's right casting a nice spray of sand onto Dante. He couldn't help but chuckle lightly. Athan had managed to do exactly what Dante was intending to do. How lucky was Dante to have such a nice guy to do it for him.

Slowly, Dante would pull himself up from the ground. He brushed some of the sand from his clothing to have it fall around him. Though, something odd was happening. The sand in Dante's immediate area began to move, shifting and floating up into the air. Chakra began to pulsate throughout Dante's body, flowing through the Tenketsu (chakra pores) throughout his body. The sand seemed to be attracted to Dante's body. It was like it was being swept up in the chakra flowing from his body. Sand came from the earth. Dante's earth manipulation would carry out his actions upon the sand. Standing behind a veil of grains of sand, he would look to Athan with a smile. Time for the finale!

Chakra Output: 5%

[6]

Oh but Dante was a shinobi. Rarely had he truly fought like one in the HoH, but for such a match he had to pull out all of the stops. If tactics and trickery were the game-plan that could bring Athan down, he would stick to it.

Tenma smiled as he saw Athan advancing once again. Good! Bringing his left leg forward, he would merely side step the wildly tossed kunai. As he did, his right arm would be raised in a beckoning motion..somewhat like a wave. The arm gesture seemed to be like a comand, because as he did so the sand that acted as his aura would shift forward. The sand would fly forward aimed towards Athan's face/neck area. Still flying about as grain, the sand would act like a sand blaster using it's speed and motion to grind against Athan's skin. Either he'd make him a very polished man, or Athan would get a rather burning pain from the sand ripping and grinding at his face and neck.

Chakra Output: 10%

[7]

The pearly white fangs in Dante's mouth began to grind together as he saw that his attack wasn't stopping the man. This guy just won't go down. Both fighters were feeling the effects of frustration. Dante was dipping, ducking, dodging, diving..and dodging! But Athan, on the other hand seemed to withstand every one of Dante's attacks with little signs of progress. Dante's arsenal was becoming depleted now. He had to think of something more if he was going to do as he came to do.

Dante did still have his speed and mobility going for him. In a somewhat stationary and ready position, light on his feet, he was ready for another attack. Closer than the previous attacks, Dante had little time to strafe away from the sword. This time he would make a quick drop forward onto all fours. He could feel the wind behind the blade just over his head as the sword passed over. It was a close call, but Dante managed for now. Coming forward as he dropped, the distance between the two was now about 5 or so feet.

In this position, Dante had to be very aware and think quick. He was in Athan's reach, but he did have some time due to the miss of Athan's swing. Tenma's left hand would slide behind his back once again, reaching into his inventory pouch. Dante's right hand would remain on the floor, supporting his body. His spray of sand would have ended as soon as it passed Athan by, but the sand would seem to be crawling back on the ground..still attracted to Dante's chakra. There was very little he could do at this point so he would wait to see Athan's next maneuver before acting. No need to act rash.

Chakra Output: 10%

[8]

As Athan took his first step forward, Dante's concealed item would be revealed to him. Tenma's left and right hand would converge over his chest as his right grasped the ring. As Athan lifted his foot the ring would be pulled from the flashbang grasped in Dante's left hand. With Dante's head turned and his eyes closed, the flashbang would go off. A loud pop and flash would emit from the flashbang causing anyone looking on to be blinded by a light that would saturate the retina with stimulated photosensitive cells. Dante had roughly five seconds while Athan and anyone else who had caught the sight of the blast would remain seeing the same frame they had when the flashbang had gone off. The effect of the flashbang going off in Dante's left hand would be a slight burning, but nothing too severe because of the gloves over his hands.

Tenma had to ignore all pain now more than ever. The slight burning feeling in his left hand would be cast back in his mind because he only had a few moments to accomplish what he wanted to. When Athan's foot came down it would hit only floor. The disoriented Athan wouldn't see Dante shift to his left just before the stomp hit, moving quick on all fours as he always did. Like a rocket, Dante would push off both feet to spring high into the air. With a bit of chakra out the soles of his feet, he would burst upwards towards Athan with a rising right fist. If Athan's sword slam would commence, he would fly just by it. It was an uppercut like attack with a whole lot of power behind it. A burning red aura would consume his hand and forearm as chakra burst through the Tenketsu of his arm. This spike of chakra would definitely take a bit out of him, but for now he needed it to make this move as potent as possible. The conflagration like aura around his fist would hold the great effects of his punch: Heat and Power. As Dante flew up, he had a really strong urge to scream "SHORYUKEN!", but he would hold off for the sake of not being cliche.

"HRRRYAAAAAA!!!!!!!!"

If this flying uppercut connected under Athan's jaw, he would most-likely be knocked to his a** with a smoldering jaw..if Dante was lucky, the man would be knocked out cold. Tenma had only wished he were fighting a smaller man, for an uppercut of this magnitude would usually lift them into the air, but with a man of Athan's stature and weight..knocking him down would suffice.

Chakra Output: 30%

[9]

This fight was beginning to become very much like the previous fight, except this time Dante and Athan were using weapons. Once again Athan had grabbed him, once again successfully grasping his shirt. He hated being man handled like this, but there was very little he could do at this point. The burning in his hand would completely be forgotten as he took a nice, hard punch to the side of the head as he drew it down, hoping it wouldn't hurt too much. Sadly, his hopes were in vain. The ringing in his ears were just as Athan's if not more severe. He probably wouldn't be able to hear for much longer than Athan..but it wasn't as painful as most people thought. Dante was used to such loud noises and their pains. The second punch would be even worse. Being yanked forward, he had very little defense. The punch would hit him on the left side of his mouth. It was almost instantly that he tasted blood surfacing in his mouth. His entire face ached and he felt dizzy. He had to get out of this bind or this fight was gonna be over real quick.

It wasn't until the third punch that Dante would make any attempts to escape. As he was drawn in for yet another face pounding he would draw his left arm up in defense. It was a pitiful defense..but a defense none the less. Dante's forearm and bicep pressed together would take most of the force behind the punch, but it still hurt. He preferred that over the face, though. When Athan readjusted his grip for a fourth punch, he would find that Dante had mustered a little strength to grip a kunai from his right thigh. As he would draw Dante back, Dante would bring the kunai down hard on Athan's left hand. If he remembered correctly, Athan's left was the natural hand..At least he had hoped. He hoped to dig the kunai knife deep into the man's hand, possibly removing a finger if it went down in that direction. Whatever he did, he was going to make sure it was enough to make he let Dante go.

Chakra Output: 30%

[10]

"Funny, I was going to say the same."

There was a broad grin on Sakura's face. At least he hadn't called her 'seaweed head' yet. Besides, she couldn't help but feel like Fracture, starting to really feel like a team, was actually getting into the crazy show of acting, music, and beating the s**t out of people.

And wasn't that what the theater was built on?

"Ahah-----a-aa!"

He would point, leaning his head in a bit as he scratched behind his ear. "He's actually still movin' around. Whattaya' know."

He was standing a bit next to Sakura, having apparently missed his target altogether completely-- but last he checked, he wasn't a 500 pound man. Not to mention he wasn't exactly new at this whole 'jumping and landing' concept.

So-- if the ninja went and rolled away from him, and Vahn carried on with his actions not even realizing he had missed his mark-- then that means Tenma was going to have the Catlady Butterfly prop crash atop him (and it was a pretty hefty and stupidly looking thing), since he apparently only could roll from one or the other.

"Guy's working awfully hard to not fight." He hadn't moved from where he was, one arm sprawled out over the back of the chair next to him, the other tucked in a pocket. Honestly, he had never felt the need to move, to get ready to do anything.

As far as he could tell, the entire fight the man had been struggling to keep Athan from getting near enough to steamroll him. In Kael's opinion of a real fight, well, that wasn't one. On a battlefield what worked worked, but this was not lives and deaths on the line, it was money and pride.

For some people though, they're worth more...

He only sighed, shifting red eyes down to the music player sitting on his thigh, and back out onto the stage again.

The game of tag was taking a while, too long it felt like, and he was going to need to step up soon. Someone from Fracture would, in anycase, and he wasn't about to drop his share of the team's responsibility. Shoulder injury or not, he could do this.

STRIKER OFFENSIVE

Dante gave a bloody smile as he saw Azel make his move. It surely was a close call. He would have to be a lot more careful with the rest of the fight. It may have seemed like Dante was just running around and playing it safe the entire fight, but he was fighting smart. It wasn't wise for a 170 pound man to try to out power a 400 pound man with a 6 foot blade. He played smart, sticking to the range and tricks of his inventory. In defense to Athan's step, he would merely draw his forearm over his stomach. The weight behind the foot was still there and it would make it increasingly difficult to breath, but the force wouldn't knock the wind out of him. He winced slightly as he felt the man's weight on his arm and body. It wasn't pleasant, but he was thanking his lucky stars that it was only a step and not a body crushing stomp.

Chakra Output: 30%

[12]

Dante was getting increasingly angry. Athan may have been frustrated by Dante's slippery and trickery actions, but Dante was utterly pissed that this guy seemed to have the best center of gravity in the tournament. He was able to take the prop to the chest with little or no problem, step off, and regain enough balance to catch Azel's ankles. Dante was amazed but wouldn't dwell on it, for he had bigger fish to fry..or more so take down.

Taking little hesitation, Dante would lean up as Athan took his foot off of Dante. He felt extremely relieved. He could breath much better now. His left arm would be sore for a while, but it would make it through. Athan couldn't watch both fighters at once. Dante would quickly bring both hands forward to grab the nearest leg to him of Athan's. His left hand would merely grip the leg at the thigh, but his right would move towards the back side of the leg in order to drive his kunai knife deep into the flesh of the back side of Athan's knee. Hopefully he would bring Athan to his knee, otherwise Dante would be ready for his opponent to be swung down upon him. The shinobi had taken a beating, but he would keep going with determination as his driving force. From the looks of it, Athan had taken the most damage with the blood all over his face and the blood of the kunai knife wounds. Dante only had a little blood on his lips, but beneath the close he was quite bruised. In the end though, it wouldn't hold him down. There was still time left. He needed a come back.

Chakra Output: 30%

[13]

Azel had just been used as a club, and he did not enjoy it. Of course, his attack had not been in vain, for he had coated his feet in his spiritual energy, strengthening his attack. Wherever his kick had landed, it would have at least bruised Athan badly, leaving quite a soreness in the area. He braced himself for the impending collision, and after he collided and was let go, he rolled off the stage, shaking his head and falling straight on his a**. He was dizzy, his head hurt, and he was cut a little, but besides that, he was fine.

He would have to fight Athan to pay him back some day.

Athan was up slowly, dusting himself off from the brief little scuffle surrounding the broken prop. There was a hint of a smile on his face, though it was anyone's guess why he was smiling at that point, considering just a few moments earlier he was about ready to rip someone's head off. Despite the grin, his left hand balled up into a fist.

"You're a hell of a ninja."

Athan started stalking forward, flexing the fingers on his right hand as he marched. It wasn't much of a stretch, five feet, but he seemed to be drawing out the theatrics just a little too much.

The chakra jumping up and down Tenma's arm wasn't impressing Athan in the least. If it meant that Dante was finally going to go toe to toe with him, well...

Good luck.

"But you're not a fighter."

One step forward with his left foot and then Athan would snap out with his right hand, aiming to grab ahold of Dante's neck in a fashion eerily similar to what had happened earlier between the two. Except this time Athan was grabbing at something that was a lot harder to cut away.

Athan looked slightly worse than he felt. He had four minor stab wounds and a series of scratches along his face. But this was the guy who punched someone hard enough to break his own arm and kept fighting for the rest of the round. This was the guy who had been stabbed, blown up, dismembered, and burned during his Heaven or Hell career.

If anyone thought he was on his last legs, they were insane.

[14/17]

"This is some event, I'd have to say!"

"Mmmhmmm, but I'd have to agree with the big guy - that's no fighter."

"Oh, what is he then?"

"A Marathon Runner!"

"Ohohohohohoho!"

He was up against a mountain of a man, and not a single person seemed to be backing him other than his comrades. This pissed him off, but he never once felt discouraged. Not once in his life had he let anyone tell him what he could and couldn't do. Athan had drawn the line. If Dante was going to be rated as a bad fighter for using his intelligence instead of brute force, then so be it. But Dante would not let someone tell him that he wasn't a fighter. He had made it through three rounds of this tournament on top. That's all that mattered at this point.

As Athan spoke, he only seemed to enrage Dante further. This man seemed to signify every single barrier that had ever dropped before him. It was time to tear down the wall. To overcome the challenges would make him more of a fighter than anyone else in his eyes. " Who the ******** are you..." Dante said coldly, his sharp tongue giving a slight click as he saw Athan step forward.

" TO TELL ME WHO I AM AND WHO I'M NOT !!!!!!"

Dante was pissed. He yelled ferociously as he stepped forward and to his left. His left forearm would come up to block the crook of Athan's arm, pushing it away from his neck. As he did, the heat being given off by his arm would burn away at any clothing or skin that it made contact with. But Athan had other problems to worry about. Dante's right hand came in quick, a jab with good speed aimed directly to the left side of Athan's ribs. He was light on his feet and ready for Athan to use that left hand of his. The jab was a quick punch. Quick in, quick out. He didn't need to be throwing his entire body weight into a punch only to have his arm ripped out of socket by the incredible hulk. Most of the force behind the punch would be from the chakra consuming his fist. A smoldering patch would be left where ever the punch had landed.

Chakra Output: 50%

[15]

Legend of the Dragon King

The Heaven or Hell Tournament

Chapter 4: Of Rivals and Revenge

"Booooooriiiiiing."

The woman's voice rang out loud and clear across the void of the faceless audience as she stood from her seat just in front of the orchestra pit. Perhaps the opera house hadn't been PIME TARADOX-proofed, but the first fight had come to a clear-cut end, and the woman was less than impressed by the performance she had just witnessed.

"Pfft... I want my money back for that one," she grumbled, stomping off to the side and out of the way of the stage. But moments later, a booming female voice echoed across the crowd, bouncing off the walls and into ears which quickly perked to attention as the curtains came to a crashing close.

"The Legend of the Great Hero has been passed down from generation to generation. Some say he never existed, while others say that he walks among us today, waiting for the next time he is needed with a call of 'HELP ME!' He swoops in to save those in danger before walking off into the sunset, none seeing the Great Hero's face to know just who he truly is."

Curtains open, revealing that the entire set has changed, save for the holes in the stage; a quaint village backdrop could be seen, fine details painted such as each individual shingle on houses and a small crowd down the painted road at the entrance to a large forest.

"The village of Kulyenchikov was a quiet but friendly town, small in population but big in heart. They enjoyed quiet lives, quiet days, and quiet nights... until a monster attacked their fair little town!"

A curtain unfurled, changing the quiet town backdrop into a burning backdrop, flames licking at houses, bodies laying in the road, and what looked to be a crudely spray painted Azel on the offensive against an equally crudely spray painted woman.

Waiting in the wings, Sakura held a microphone in her right hand and a rope in her left. It was her voice that was doing the talking, while the rope began to splinter slightly and showed signs of burning. She had to time this just right... and make sure it was the right rope. For some reason there were quite a few more rigged off to the side, all showing different levels of being burned through. Some looked ready to snap at any second.

"And so," she began, stepping out as a spotlight shone on her, "the Hero made his appearance. Or rather, hers!"

Another curtain came down, this one in black and white. There was a little more care that went into it, although it was mostly speed lines and stars and arrows. But... why...?

"That's right - the Hero had been hiding in the one place that nobody would expect him! He had taken on the mask and figure of a young swordswoman, knowing that those looking for the Hero would never find him! But it was time to act!"

A loud SNAP could be heard just offstage....

"With no time to spare, the traveler made a flying leap into the air, transforming by saying those infamous words...."

Sakura dropped the mic before made a running charge forward, getting enough kick to do a forward flip right into... steaming hot water?!

Before anyone could figure out what had just happened, a man with bright green hair was one one knee at the edge of the stage, his right fist against the ground as his wet hair fell around him. He was surrounded by steam as he got to his feet -- strike a pose and make it look good!

"HENSHIN A GO-GO, BABY!"

Let the Hero be known

Heaven or Hell

Chapter 4: Of Rivals and Revenge

He watched as the woman performed her act, seeing the backdrop and the crudely done spray paintings. It was odd that he was depicted as the enemy. The villain. But the thought went no further than that. With the first fight said and done, Azel had watched his captain fight. It had been a good fight, but it was Azel's turn to show what he was made of.

Then, the woman transformed, becoming the man he had once fought. Rage. He was confused for a moment. Rage was a girl? He shook the thought from his head and stared out. He stood and leapt onto the stage, landing on both his feet, standing tall.

"Yet, the villagers were taken a-back by the hero's appearance. Was this really the one to save them? Or had the 'monster' been misjudged. Perhaps the once accused of destroying the village hadn't been the one to do so? What would this 'hero' do then?"

Azel spun and kicked the mic into his hands, facing out towards the audience.

"The 'hero' and the 'villain' would have to determine who was who in the field of battle. It was the only way!"

He turned back to face Rage, who was surrounded by steam.

"The 'villain' was determined to prove he was not the enemy, not the weak one. He would make that known. So, as the two stared each other down.."

Azel trailed off. Soon, spiritual energy was forming around him, meeting the spilled water on the floor and causing steam of his own to rise. A slight blue glow would be coming from Azel, illuminating the stage.

"They both knew that only one, would make it out of the battlefield, with the title of hero."

The spiritual energy around him quickly expanded and shot out, doing nothing but light up the stage.

It was set. The time. The place. The mood. The crowd would be sure to enjoy this battle, and Azel would be sure to give it his all, no matter what the outcome may be.

PIME TARADOX!

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

Callista's heavy leather boots pounded onto the damaged stage with every step she took.

Thunk. Thunk.

"Well, hello there," she said, with a friendly enough tone, and a smile to match. The woman, whose hair had recently been snipped to shoulder length, halted just about ten feet away from Kael, balancing her long-staffed, and heavy-bladed scythe at her back. Her chain hung loosely like a belt around her waist as always.

"It really is nice to see you once more..... Kael."

Her smile faded. It was not a time for hellos, or goodbyes. It was the final act of the play. And the actors had taken the stage.

The audience fell silent. After witnessing the damage caused both all players in this game, they were anxious to see who would come up on top in the final bout. Callista, on the other hand, blocked out everything around her. It was just them two, now. And she was determined to prove herself-- no, her team.

Thunk. Thunk.

She'd approach him closer now, watching him with her large, ruby eyes. Slowly, her tongue would lick over her dry lips, the dust in the air making the opera house a little dry.

It was time. Her spread her legs slightly to shoulder's width, and swung her scythe to her front, adjusting her grip with her gauntleted hands. They shuffled to the base of the staff, the weight of the blade sinking down. She would no longer hesitate. She took off at an agile sprint.

A few steps into her run, she'd raise the scythe diagonally, quickly closing the distance between her and Kael. Her massive weapon swung like a baseball bat, the weight thrusting forward as she threw her aim across Kael's upperbody/lower-jaw. The force exerted from her forced a meek grunt from her throat.

"Raaah!!!"

~1

Azel smiled as Rage spoke to him. Rage wasn't the only one that was going to prove himself in this fight. Win or lose, Azel would make the world see who he was.

"Of course. How could I forget someone like you?"

He heard the murmurs and the whispers coming from the crowd. Then he heard it. Dragon King. Rage must have done some pretty impressive stuff in the past. But, Azel would not be intimidated. Every dog had its day after all. He saw Rage dash forward, hearing the wood creak beneath his feet.

He saw his left hand go for the sword at his side and immediately began to think. Suddenly, Rage pushed off the ground and leaped at him, bringing his left hand up. Azel turned to the right suddenly, letting Rage go past him, but as he did so he launched his right arm out, slamming his fist into Rage's back, sending him further. The blow would cause him some discomfort, but nothing major. Azel brought his hands up in front of him, staring at Rage intently.

He knew Rage was no pushover, so he would have to learn how to fight him. He remembered their first encounter, and would be sure to use some of the knowledge gained from it here.

"If you wanna dance, fine. But you better be ready to get served."

He couldn't resist.

[Chapter 4, Page 1]

Athan may have been a decent swordsman, but his hand to hand combat seemed to go no further than the attribute of his great mass and power. Although Dante spent most of the fight at a range and getting tossed about, proximity was his forte. In this instance though, it wasn't always the smartest thing. With only a short amount of time left on the clock, he couldn't hold back. If he had to fight the behemoth in a battle of body and soul he would. If this man was going to knock him out; he would make him work every step of the way.

The jab was successful. Athan may have felt absolutely no pain from it, but it had done its purpose. He needed Athan to move, make a flaw, anything. It had done just that. Dante stepped inwards for a reason. When Dante blocked the first grab with his forearm, he pushed it away from the crook. This being said, Athan's arm would have to come back to grasp the forearm. In the time ensuing the push of the arm, Dante's arm would have been drawn back down where it would rest bent at the elbow. Yet, it would only be in this place for a moment. Stepping to his left, he would come low for a brief moment under the extended arm to step just to Athan's right. If the knee still extended it would swing just by him, as he easily stepped past it, being already on Athan's right side. This quick bobbing motion was done so close and so quick that it wouldn't be an invitation to grasp Dante's skull or neck. By the time Athan would be able to draw his shoulder and arm back, Dante would have already reached his destination.

Immediately after reaching his position on the outside of Athan's right arm, he would continue his assault on the giant. This time he threw some weight into the punch. A bone breaking straight would be shot with his left hand for Athan's rib cage. This punch showed the same effects of his last but with more force behind it. He didn't have to worry so much about Athan reaching out and grabbing him this time. He merely had to watch for that right arm of Athan's to come back and attempt to interfere. Dante's speed was key here. Staying light on his feet was the key. If he could keep that up and stay smart with his punches he would make the ultra heavy weight fighter look like a b*****d on father's day: Completely lost.

Chakra Output: 50%

[16]

With no grab, there was no knee thrown on Athan's part. All that was left for him to do was watch as Dante jabbed at his chest, pulled the arm back, and then started to move in towards Athan's right side. So what was a big guy to do? Athan simply pivoted on his right foot, turned his body to follow that of the smaller man, and by sheer coincidence happened to be thinking the exact same thing as Dante as he took a short step towards the guy with his left leg.

Speed wasn't as much of a factor as Dante was going to hope. He might have been quicker, but he still had to cover more distance than Athan. He had to step, Athan simply had to turn his body around to match him. Dante would arrive to his position first, but Athan wasn't exactly standing still.

Dante slipped into position, Athan dropped his right arm down to his side, more as a counter-weight than actually trying to throw off Dante's concentration. Though, with so much of his attention focused on that right arm it may have proved to be a worthy distraction.

Athan's left hand was still balled into a fist since the forearm had never been presented as a worthy target. What this meant was that Athan was raising his arm up even as he turned to match Dante's positioning. The fingers on his left hand slipped into tiny compartments specifically designed to trigger one ability, and one ability only. The entire fight Athan had been soaking and dishing out damage. It was his own fury that powered the gauntlet, and Athan had a lot of fury by this stage.

The Berserker's Gauntlet Wrote:

Burst

The only other method of expending the gauntlet's energy involves releasing it all at once. This is an extremely dangerous process that runs the risk of completely shattering the wearer's arm, but it is the only way of avoiding potential heart attack and exhaustion. A closed fist triggers the ability of the gauntlet, with the finger tips pressing into small compartments inside the gauntlet at the base of the palm. The activation of the abililty requires impact on the knuckles, which prevents an accidental misfire. The end result is a pure burst of concussive energy that is strong enough to shatter stone. Naturally, even the most hardy of warriors would suffer pulverized bones leading all the way up to the shoulder should they attempt to break heavily reinforced objects.

Dante came in with a straight for Athan's ribs just as Athan completed his turn, left fist raised and halfway through its descent. The big guy would take the punch in the ribs at its full force, but even if the punch was enough to take some of the sting out of Athan's swing, it was going to be too little, too late. As Athan was prone to do, he was dishing out damage at the expense of taking some himself. In his mind, there wasn't anyone who could go toe to toe with him and make it out conscious.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

The time between Dante's fist impacting and Athan's punch was borderline simultaneous. And with the ninja throwing his weight into the punch, there was little he could do but brace for impact. Athan's knuckles would slam into Dante's right arm at the collarbone, hitting with enough force to potentially break the bones there before the concussive backlash.

When the wave of force hit, the stage and Dante's arm weren't going to stand a chance. Dante would be pounded through the stage as though he were fired from a cannon while Athan's fingers and the majority of his hand would be pulverized from the exchange. With the give from the stage, however, his entire arm would not be broken like it had been during his fight with the crocodile.

Athan would be left standing over the hole, left hand still extended from the follow through but dripping blood into the newly formed stage addition. The damage done wasn't nearly as extensive, but already he felt his hand going numb from shock. It was going to be another lovely three days of rehab, but it was worth it.

"Told ya."

[16/17]

Callista swung!!----

The staff of her scythe hit against Kael's shoulder, and was grabbed by his hand.

"Oh shi--"

She barely had time to register his movements; however Callista was an agile woman used to making quick judgements and slick movements. She'd push back on the ball of her foot, moving her upper body back, narrowly avoiding the upper strike of Kael's sword but was unable to do anything to his next move.

As his hand traveled down, Callista cried with pain as the force of Kael's swing struck her ankle. Her thick, leather boot only protected her skin, of course, but the strike still hurt and would leave it sore. And now, there was a terribly unattractive slash in her footwear.

What was more unfortunate was how, if Kael chose to continue his maneuvre, he would find himself scathed by the bond between the fiery demoness and her weapon. After feeling the beginning tug of Kael's arm, the massive scythe would heat up to searing heights, glowing red as if it was a large ember. Should Kael choose to keep his hold, he would of complete his initial plan of tugging Callista down face first, but the end result would be a badly damaged hand that would most likely be put out of commission. Or he could chose the safer of options and let go, before any real damage could occur.

However, in any case, Callista's fail-safe should he choose to continue on, would be the only thing she could do in her situation; pyrokenetics. Medium sized, bomb-like blasts would burst at Kael's feet. Should he step on one of these mini explosions, he would take severe damage to the foot, like a child holding a fire-cracker in a closed fist. Of course, this would only begin if Kael would not let go of her scythe.

~2

Athan didn't seem to realize how much position and timing were going to be key in the last few moments of this battle. His defense to Athan's mighty punch would be fairly simple. With Athan pivoting and stepping forward, he would be covering just as much space as Dante. A single step was all it took to get into position. Dante's left foot would be the forward, planted foot and the right as the pivot. This meant that as the left went forward, his right could easily be pulled back as his shoulders rotated clockwise with the motion of his swing. This meant that Dante's right shoulder, the target of Athan's punch, would be pulled far back and nearly out of reach. To make matters worse, Dante took perfect form with this straight. His body was almost turned completely sideways. He merely had to pull his right shoulder in as much as possible without taking the momentum out of his swing, but it would lose some of the force behind it. It was definitely better than being driven through the floor by a single punch.

Athan's punch would make contact with nothing but air as Dante rotated his shoulders with the swing. This would leave Athan's left hand utterly ******, putting Dante in perfect position to follow his rib shot. Sliding his right foot forward, it would become the planted foot. His right arm would come in swift on the inside. It was yet another uppercut aimed to connect with Athan's jaw. His right hand was once again consumed by chakra to deal the same effects as before. With a ****** right hand, hopefully Dante's upper cut would reach it's target with little difficulty. If Athan's jaw hadn't been broken with the first uppercut, it surely would be after a second.

TIMBER!!!

Chakra Output: 60%

[17-Finale.]

If Dante was far enough away for Athan's punch to completely miss, then Dante wasn't going to be nearly close enough to hit with any sort of major force with the straight. Athan took the shot to his ribs and didn't even flinch. Keeping his weight on his left foot, Athan simply pivoted outwards, turning his body profile to Tenma's, allowing the uppercut to slide on past. If that wasn't enough, he'd manage to lean back ever-so-slightly.

In the meantime, Athan had brought his right arm upward, balled it up into a fist, and the moment Tenma's uppercut went sliding past, he'd have a haymaker all up in his grill.

It wasn't anything special, it was just a hard punch from a big guy.

Sure, it was probably bad form to be throwing any punches just as the time limit ran up, but Athan had had enough of this.

Time Over.

[4/17]

"Tch!"

Kael slammed his heel down following the explosion, and yanked his sword back up. Callista had gotten away, was on the move- but he wasn't going to sit and watch.

You're playing on recycled tricks.

And this time he wasn't wearing worn old sneakers.

Kael took a darting step forward as she rolled, keeping her from making much headway- probing for an answer. The question was, were fireballs still going off as he stepped?

Now we know which role you chose.

If so, he'd let the foot fly up instead of trying to force it down, reducing the impact of the small scale explosion even more than his heavily armored boot already was. If the answer was no, she'd find Kael leaping into the air as she started to rise to her feet- heels first, a drop kick aimed at her collar bones, with a 190lb man and his considerable leg strength behind it. The sword was still in hand, drawn back- ready to take it's opening if and when she moved out of the way of the flying double leg kick.

If there was an explosion....

"Hmph-t!"

Jumping, both feet coming up, and then landing on the explosives- a wave of scorching heat smoldering and warping the leather and rubber of his boots, sending him at great speed upward and forward-

The same dropkick, done much harder.

'But behind my enemy's eyes

A soul in disguise

Not only lies'

Sssshhhhnnnkkkk

Before he knew it, a kunai had sunken into his side, plunging in and drawing a good amount of blood. The blood wouldn't stop though. This fight now had a shorter time limit. But Azel would be smiling. Rage had done what he had wanted him to. Get close. Azel wouldn't be sacrificing the moment. Before Rage could completely pull his hand back, Azel brought his right hand down, clasping onto the wrist of Rage's left hand. He pulled back, pulling Rage in closer.

As Rage came close, Azel opened his mouth to reveal what he had concealed earlier. A smoke bomb. He bit down hard, releasing the smoke inside the casing. It tasted horrible, but it was just normal smoke. He blew it out, straight into Rage's face. Now, they had smoke surrounding them. Azel brought his left knee into the air, slamming it hard into Rage's gut. The wind would likely be knocked out of him. He twisted the arm he held at the wrist, aiming to make Rage drop the kunai. But he wouldn't hold the position for long. His side was aching from the stab.

He pushed Rage away and dashed out of the smoke, his eyes tearing from having bit down on the thing. He turned to see the curtain and ran over to it, ripping a portion off. He wrapped it around the wound tight to stop the flow. This was a makeshift bandage. But it wouldn't work for long.

[Chapter 4, Page 4]

The bombs, we like as described, set to go off when approached-- like a proximity mine. When Kael would take a step towards Callista, it would blast in front of him, sending wooden splinters from the stage flying. There were maybe four or five of these little things ready to go off, not visible to the eye, but teeming with condensed energy, ready to blast at any moment.

This would HAVE to slow Kael down. The distance between them was fair, and the bombs would take a while to work through. If he wanted to jump, they would go off under him and throw off his path, giving Callista plenty of time to dart to the side. Meanwhile, the force of the explosions all going off at once would have a good effect of throwing Kael off track, and off balance.

As Callista would roll the the side, away from her previous stand point, her scythe would glow hot once more and the bond between the woman and her weapon would carry it to her, as it'd slide across the splintered floor and to her feet. She'd pick it up and immediately charge at Kael, holding the staff at the end and swinging it like a bat once more. The length of the staff would give her enough distance to still hit him, while remaining out of his grasp. The blade of the scythe would overshoot Kael slightly, and depending on whether he'd land on his feet or on his a**, would appear behind his knees or behind his torso. She'd pull at the end of her swing, like a dealer at a casino pulling in chips. She'd yank hard, her athletic arms bending inwards. She'd reach out to grab further into the staff to drag it towards her even more. Her purpose: to pull the blade deep into Kael's back/knees, whichever it may be, and force him forward. The blade was sharpened finely, and would have no trouble cutting through leathers or skin. Especially with the weight of the blade at the end of the swing, it would hit hard into Kael, allowing for an immediate penetration.

~4

"Dra-gon King! Dra-gon King! Dra-gon King!"

That was all Azel was beginning to hear. It was really beginning to make him angry. The ropes around his hand would be smoking, showing that if he had grabbed Rage's arm bare skinned, his hand would be burning. Thank goodness for the rope. But Azel had figured it out. He knew what Rage was. What the crowd called him the dragon king. It only brought a smile to his face. Then he looked up to see Rage coming out of the smoke, the kunai tied to his hand. Azel would be getting that back soon.

Rage had made one mistake in his attack though; jumping. If he was going to jump above the smoke, he would have to jump high, which would give Azel plenty of time to see him and react. He saw his attack coming, the kick and the fist. Azel grabbed the curtain to his side and ran over with it, catching Rage inside the thing. He knew the kunai would begin to cut it, and that's why he ran around the back side of Rage as he connected with the curtain, wrapping him inside. The kunai might penetrate the curtain a small bit, but Rage would be constricted inside of it. Now was Azel's chance.

Azel came in hard with a left kick, straight to where Rage's side should be. He couldn't really tell the location of his body, but he would unleash a flurry of kicks into the lump inside, laying blow after blow onto his opponent. The fans would not like this. They would hate seeing their 'Dragon King' being hit like this. But, Azel would slowly begin to hear a small amount of people chanting his name. He would have his own nickname at the end of this fight. After about 4 or 5 kicks, he would whip the curtain open, letting Rage fall to the ground.

His side ached, and it was causing him some pain. But he would tough through it. He jumped back a small distance, the hole that Athan had created being directly behind him. This fight was beginning to heat up, so to speak. Hopefully, Azel could conquer this opponent.

[Chapter 4, Page 5]

Callista hadn't anticipated Kael's sword protecting his back, and thus, was surprised when she didn't get the effect she was hoping for. At first she wore a smug grin, but it was smoothly wiped off as Kael's feet planted into her abdomen, as she barely had time to back away with the heavy scythe held at the very tip.

She'd fall back, but as her bottom hit the ground she allowed her fall to carry into a backwards somersault, holding the scythe one handed as it would fly back with her and skid across the floor with a skkkccching. She'd cough as she gasped for air, sitting up. She would need a second to get back to her feet, and Kael was no doubt not wasting any time, so Callista would use her pyrokenetics to build a wall of flames between the two that, although still penetrable, would give her the time she needed to get to her feet and regain a little air.

After all, not every move she made had to be offensive.

Now, as the flames would rise from the floor, equal to Callista's height and spanning from each side of the stage directly between Callista and Kael, she'd shuffle to her feet and dig into the back pocket of her tight shorts. A small vial, barely the size of her pink finger, containing a strange liquid was pulled and held in her palm. She'd bite into the cork and pulled it out, before downing the liquid.

The drug would quickly take it's effect. She'd become angry, driven by her blood-lust, and her strength would intensify, as well as he speed, by three times her regular ability, as the drugged worked like an endorphin, forcing her to push herself to the extreme.

~5

Was he a fool? Did he not realise the control over flames that Callista had?

She was fire--

Of course, she had been so concentrated on the liquid that she barely had time to taste it's contents when Kael's burst throught the flames, brandishing his sword. The liquid had only half-spilled into her mouth as the blade penetrated through her unarmored shoulder, her shriek of pain masking the shattering glass on the floor. However, the pain quickly subsided as her potion began to take effect. She hadn't taken the full dose, but it would still work, at least for a very short amount of time. Her body became foolishly numb to the pain-- it was more of an ignorance than a lack of feeling. The blade searing in her shoulder, but she did not care. Her uninjured arm lashed forward and her hands gripped the sword, her palm being sliced as she gripped tightly, and she wrenched her body back and the sword out from it's entrance.

She'd growl, mailiciously, and her eyes filled with a fire of rage that was fueled by the narcotic from the vial.

"You idiot!!" she scream, before she hurled several curses to him, as the flames that clinged to Kael's body striving for life, would burst out with new fuel, as Callista gave them the surge of her pyrokenetic energy that they needed.

--and he would burn!

The flames would quickly eat away at Kael's clothing, licking his skin, dancing over his body. Callista used her rage and her intensified strength to pour into the fires energy, her throat releasing a harsh cry, the fire reaching for Kael's hair and eyelashes and eyebrows, looking for the quickest substances to burn and allow them to live just a little longer.

As Callista gave out her enraged cry, her bleeding hand would shove away Kael's sword from her, and yank at the chain around her stomach. Quickly twisting her wrist and coiling the chain around her knuckles, she'd carelessly throw a punch at Kael's face, a teeth bared.

~6

"Showtime."

~For Rage' Fight~

Pushing up off the seats he had been lounging around in--- yellowed eyes stared out toward the stage. Athan's fight had already ended and so the second match had begun.

It was apparently Rage versus...whoever that guy was.

He had watched long enough, knowing his teammate had a pension for the dramatic. Switching the call on his FIGHTER to 'Offensive' he would be vaulting himself up on the stage and dashing towards Azel with the slide speed of his greaves.

Azel Wrote:

Rage had made one mistake in his attack though; jumping. If he was going to jump above the smoke, he would have to jump high, which would give Azel plenty of time to see him and react. He saw his attack coming, the kick and the fist. Azel grabbed the curtain to his side and ran over with it---

Only to probably wonder why there was suddenly something coming from his peripheral vision-- which if he was intent on watching and timing Rage' airborne jump and landing to catch him in a curtain-- would be close to half a second from impact.

All the crowd's chanting and noise making was apparently good for something else entirely. Drowning out the ambient noise.

Basically palming Azel directly in the face with his right hand-- (if he was running and aiming to go around behind Rage to envelop him completely in the fabric) and thrusting out with his arm, and twisting the hips, so Azel would basically be face planted into the stage floor without discretion; a modified hip throw.

A broken nose at best, but the rattling in his skull would be more than enough to buy Rage some time. "Floor, meet nobody--- nobody meet floor. Play nice!" Vahn would waggle a finger towards the downed Azel, grinning wide-- before pushing up off the stage and simply walking back towards the seats.

Probably the full 10 seconds if you want to stretch it, but Vahn reckon'ed it was 9.

~For Kael's Fight~

The third fight had gone underway, and stretched out along a few chairs in the front row, Vahn was nonplussed at still being here.

Things were dragging on and he wanted a shower already. This time it was Kael fighting some insane scythe wielder... the only other scythe user he had seen in this thing so far had been that guy from Nightmare...

However, his eyebrows were raised and his interest perked, the moment flames started spilling out along the stage. It was a crazy sort of hazy love that was reaching out and yankin' on the heartstrings I tell ya.

"Huh."

Seemed Kael was intent on making up for his loss against the iceman, so he was really giving it his all--- and then the curtain came down. And it wasn't the kinda curtain you expected to see for the finale.

Oooohh boy. Sitting up like a snapped branch, he watched as Kale actually went charging forward-- aiming to plow through the curtain--

"Well-- now isn't that interesting... but---"

Rolling his neck, he shoved off the seat, and flicked his FIGHTER-- designating defensive mode.

He stood right next to the stage even as the swordsman pushed through the curtain.

His right arm out, he grinned wide and splayed all his fingers out, the bracelet on his wrist shining darkly even as the Hand was activated. The item woke from it's slumber and soon the gauntlet formed all over his right arm, the needling sensation increasing nearly forty fold as he rushed it.

"---I can't resist a smokin' babe!"

The talons on his right hand glowed with the sort of hue that molten rock had, even as all the flames that would have been pulled onto Kael and from the fire curtain were literally whirl pooled towards the ruby red jewel adorning the very top of his gauntlet.

If she was fire--- then he was her master.

Kael wouldn't escape completely unsinged of course, since the flames rushing away from him would just quickly and lightly brush against him as they traveled towards Vahn-- but it was a helluva lot better than becoming barbecued.

Snapping his fist shut, he would shake his right arm, talons smoking off their tips.

Give 2-3 seconds for the hands transformation, and all the rest for the flame consumption-- and he didn't even have to worry about exiting the stage this time.

He just went back to his seat.

~Lol timespace~

"Let's go man! Don't let this be the end of it--- RIGHT?!"

He jabbed his left finger towards the stage, time blurring as if he were somehow able to address both Rage and Kael at once.

The potion she had taken still had a few minutes before it wore off-- if she had taken it's entire dose she'd be good until the end of the fight but it was all she could do with Kael charging her.

First things first, when Kael's hand grabbed her face and her fist hit his, and her body was forced back, she'd growl and wrench her head back and forth, gnawing and biting, trying to get a hold of his palm with her teeth and really sink them in. Meanwhile, the lack of heat only told her something went wrong and her flames were extinguishing, so she'd grab Kael's wrist that was at her face, and her own hand would burst in flames. They'd crawl up his arm like speeding ants, dancing their way to his shoulder, as she used her multiplied energy to force them to burn away at his body.

But as he struck her head with the brunt of his sword, a ringing would swell in her ears. She didn't care. She felt the adrenaline pumping through her veins, and the numbness of the drug forcing her to ignore the swelling in the side of her head. She'd strain her injured shoulder by lifting her hand and slamming her palm onto Kael's face, to match his position, lifting herself with her good arm using his wrist as an anchor. Her palm would do much the same as her other did-- ignite into flames as if dipped in gasoline and struck with a match. This would be more than enough to make him release her.

Her feet, in the meantime, would kick down against the stage aimlessly, as she struggled against Kael's hold.

~7

[8/17]

Pommels were as much weapons of war as the blade of the swords they were attached to- focusing the area of a smash into a small projecting piece of metal instead of the broad, softer bottom of a fist, to stun helmed men- or lacking that protection, cave through skulls and into the brain.

Fortunately, Kael had only somewhere between two-thirds and three-quarters of that full range of motion to drive force into the blows, saving Callista the deadly strikes- but all the same when she failed to stop the first brutal blow she would quickly recieve a second in the same location, and in a unmodified human's skull, even a particularly hearty one, anything but beginnings of cracks in the skull, unconciousness, and severe blunt head trauma would have been a miracle.

With his left hand wrapped in armor grade leather, if scorched, and gripping with palm pressed on her nose and fingers pressing into the temples and top of the skull for superior head control, while biting was not pheasable, the thrashing would make it a chore to hold her head in place, Kael focusing that much more weight forward into the task. The fire didn't cause him to flinch- fueling the same freintic, brutally agressive reaction the previous flame had driven the swordsman to, not soon enough to stop him laying nearly a dozen blows on her head anyway- all he could do for his face was pull his neck back, as she pressed up. After forcing him to lean upward enough to get to that full extension, it'd mean his face was not in direct contact with her palm, but still close enough that flames licked painfully at his face, making him close his eyes.

That would do a great deal more in way of making him release her than the prior use of flame.

A time of 5 strikes to the head with the pommel total, including the one initially landed. If she was still concious and pouring flames on him after those rapidly pounded out blows, Kael would roll off and away from the woman, freintically tearing his flame tattered jacket and shirt off of his burnt and blistered torso, breathing heavily and rising frenticly to return to what he'd started.

'But behind my enemy's eyes

A soul in disguise

Not only lies'

The moment Dante saw Callista taken down, Dante would initiate the striker on his FIGHTER. Dante would pass through the orchestra pit before leaping onto the stage. His next move was fairly simple. He sprinted forward as fast as he could with the neck of a cello gripped tightly in both hands. Dante would come to a halt about three or four feet to the right side of Kael and his lover, using the forward foot as his planted foot. With the momentum from his run, he would twist his body whipping the rather large musical instrument around like a huge baseball bat. He would lean back to use his body as a counterweight as the cello was brought down to Kael's ribcage. The force of the cello swing would surely knock him off of Callista and send him sliding across the stage floor. The wolfish male had timed it perfectly. It would be done just in time to save Callista from the second pommel strike.

Dante's attack was virtually fool-proof, and, if it was successful

, and in all likelihood it would, she'd grunt, and heave herself from the ground, leaving a large stain of blood from her shoulder on the floor. Her hair, too, was matted with wet blood from where Kael's sword handle struck. She looked like a mess, but standing there, feeling the last effects of the potion. She'd shuffle back a few feet, readying her chain in her good hand, the flames around the stage dying off completely... for now.

Of course, this was assuming he'd move.

~8

[9/17]

A cello was made of flimsy wood- like all string instruments, it needed the supple wood to be shaped right and resonate properly to make the right noises, not weighing much of anything considering their weight. That, and of course, it was full of empty space- the cello was going to come apart like anything as it his Kael's ribs, bursting to pieces and flinging pits of wood everywhere. The force alone would never have knocked Kael been charging in on Dante, or likely even given him pause in the state he was in now.

The main value of the strike was that it would be coming in completely by surprise, dead-set-focused as Kael was, hitting his ribs as he reared up away from Callista's hand, rearing the shoulder for that second pommel strike.

And the blow.

"-huungh!"

Assuming it was Kael's right, the blow was going to make him move to his left, first the left hand coming off, and then the pommel swing scraping her forehead. Not much of a trauma- painful, but not likely anything she'd notice until later.

"Uff."

He didn't so much fly off to the side- more fell onto his side. He would roll away, and then come quickly to his feet, starting up like a runner about to take off at a sprint, left hand down and legs braced, facing Callista as she started to rise and Dante as he turned to leave.

'We live to fight the hand of doom

We got the pride to strike a fool

Vain glory be my wicked guide

We live to fight the hand of doom

We got the pride to strike a fool

Vain glory be my wicked guide'

"Maybe I can't finish it-"

The cameras spun, catching the fight from all angles, the clock shown ticking down it's dying seconds. Tension mounted to see what sort of last ditch effort the fighters would throw.

Kael's legs pressed, shooting him upward and forward, onto his feet-

'But behind my enemy's eyes

A soul in disguise

Not only lies'

"-but I can still take you both down with me!"

His right arm, starting at the shoulder, came forward, adding itself into the forward thrust.

'We live to fight the hand of doom

We got the pride to strike a fool

Vain glory be my wicked guide

We live to fight the hand of doom

We got the pride to strike a fool

Vain glory be my wicked guide'

And Kael's sword soared from his hand, shining blade flashing past Callista, past Dante- and planted itself into the wooden wall quiver, severing a tight bunched set of ropes. The stage had been broken by Athan's great sword, split by the huge falling prop, ravaged by Callista's flames and storms of small explosions blowing chunks out of it.

A series of several large sandbags crashed into an edge of the stage, together from their full height crashing through the one still fully stable area of the wooden platform supporting the three active fighters.

And the stage collapsed under their feet.

... and as the fight wound to a close, the voices died down and the time ran out. Rage still stood, a broad grin on his face as he waited for the official call to be made - kunai still wrapped against his left hand. He held it up to the light, which shone slightly off of the dull metal.

"Y'know... I think I'll keep this," he said with a grim smile.

"A souvenir of a victory robbed by the hand of time."

Legend of the Dragon King

The Heaven or Hell Tournament

Chapter 4: Of Rivals and Revenge

[End]