Cathedral Proper

I should have slayed you!

Even the heathen son of El Divino could feel the divine power coursing through the establishment. Yet such energies did not overwhelm Tres for he was born of such power. It was a shame that none of that energy that consumed there current arena would help him. He wondered if there was someone out there calling the shots for the fight who assumed that Tres would benefit from such a thing but that was also assuming that there was someone out there who wanted Tres to succeed in this tournament. For some reason Tres didn't feel like a house favorite like he was sure the old Lu-Bu teams felt.

The rest of the team had not yet arrived and it seemed that Tres had been the first to arrive. A part of him told him to pray but Tres never really believed in prayer, it was just one of those things that his father insisted that he do. He looked up at the crucified jesus above the alter and his eyes travelled purposefully to the paintings between the crossed arch's that formed the roof. His thoughts drifted on god, as he stood gazing upwards in the center aisle.

Suddenly, Tres would pump his fist up towards the visual representation of God and say,

"Soon...even YOU!"

He then looked towards the Alter and walked towards it.

Like that, Dragon last week!

I should have slayed you!

"Haha! Well...Well...Isn't this like your favorite Arena or what Darious?", Tres said with a wry grin while turning to face the satanic priest walking down the aisle. Tres's back was too the table that held the communion wine and wafers. Tres didn't even think of touching them until a prayer was said but that wasn't because of religion but because of his religious upbringing.

"Who in the nine hells would have guessed that this would have been our first arena. Well...As for opponents Darious, I suggest we wait until they get here. From what I've heard of Team Britain they have a fairly wide variety of fighters like our team. We need to go for the best match ups...

Trust me, Wantonly fighting whoever stepped up was something my dads Lu-Bu did. Not us...We will be intelligent warriors."

Like that, Dragon last week!

Alex Stepped through the Cathedral doors, his huge form blocking any light from filtering through and casting a beastly shadow across the hall.

His entire body was covered in thick steel-alloy whilst a particularly menacing looking full-faced helmet shielded his head. The helmet was in the shape of a bear-like creature, with two protruding horns pointing forwards that were about a foot long, and a growling bear pattern etched into the sheet of steel that covered his face.

The sound of metal hitting metal echoed throughout the large cathedral as he stomped towards the center of the building. On his back were his two custom made battle axes, each one about three feet in length and double headed. Looking upon the seven foot, 290lbs man you would have a difficult time finding any exposed flesh.

He stood there silently for a minute. Simply staring at the two men that stood across the way. One of them, a strange looking guy, seemed to be already bleeding from his face. "Hurhurhur. Started without me, huh?" He chuckled, his strangely deep voice echoing loudly through the hollow hall.

“What can I say? You British assholes took a little too long to arrive here. I guess the rumors were correct about one of the members of Team Britain. You are a giant tin man! Anyway, shall we finally begin this bout?"

Speaking in a dark but sarcastic tone towards his opponent, Darious was very anxious for the opportunity to spill some blood. Granted his urges subdued him and that resulted in the new scars displayed on his face. Licking off the blood from his newly formed Glasgow smile, a sadistic smile was drawn from the priest as he was ready for this bloodbath to commence.

“I’m ready when you are, Tin Man!"

“FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKK!”

"What the?"

Joey hopped up from his kneeling position and looked towards the Cathedral that his fight was meant to be taking place in. He had sat down for a minute in the graveyard to admire the scenic view.

"I guess that's my cue to get my a** in there."

He thought to himself, as he began to amble towards the giant building. He wondered what the screaming of profanities was all about..had they started without him?

Arriving at the cathedral entrance, he peered in and saw none other than Alex standing there with his weapon drawn, fully armoured. So they had started without him. Joey walked in anyway, his hands stuffed in his jean pockets, and a large dark blue satchel strung across his back. It looked heavy.

"Easy chewy."

He called out to Alex, whilst quickly scanning over the other team. They looked pretty competent..if not a little disturbing.

"Against the law?"

Arian stepped into the main part of the cathedral, having come in through the back, walking through the Sacristy quietly and then through a heavy wooden door, slipping into the church without any of the hype exhibited by the armor plated man she could see at the door, down the isle.

Alex.

Arian did not sigh or roll her eyes-but you could read a slight amount of...wtf? In her gaze.

Then again-she had blown up her own motorcycle in the prelim fight.

Hm.

Eyes moved to the ceiling, the architecture.

How long it's been since she's stepped inside a church.

She could already feel the double v brand on her right shoulder start to burn. Arian's mouth twitched into a half smile, lips curving in mild bitterness. Of course. Sacred Grounds eh? Supposedly, they helped magic users.

Well, she didn't have any magic. Just a brand that marked her as tainted, from an ignorant island full of ignorant people.

Standing in the apse now, the dusky skinned native was not far behind the altar, the man's back before her in front of that-and no longer able to see Alex and his opponent in the aisle.

She stood about five foot two, with glossy black hair that reached barely to her shoulder. It'd been cut in the last fight. Something she was not happy about. Her skin was tanned, darker-clearly native to some tropical place, with eyes as vibrantly colored as the Caribbean seas. The cloak around her shoulders was closed, concealing her body from him.

A church. Of all the places...

"Tres Ecstufuan..." She spoke, the slight accent softening hard sounds and adding a pleasant, exotic lilt to her vowels, the native's voice the first and only sound that gave her away.

"Arian Lennox." She half introduced, the altar's white and purple cover cloth looked at, the vibrantly colored eyes lowering just a fraction, then seeming thoughtful, the slightest of frowns on her lips.

She reached forward, a hand slipping out from the cloak, pulling it partially open to reveal black leather armor-grasping the slippery cloth in her left hand-then jerked it out and to the side, slow enough to take the heavy bowl of wafers and the heavy goblet of wine with it, spilling them both upon the apse's floor, the red staining the pretty marble.

"The body and blood of Christ...never much liked the idea of...believing something so silly just because a man told me it was so."

She had faith, but it was tarnished. She believed, but did not practice.

If Mr. Tres was religious, she had no doubt just offended the crap out of him. Good.

The altar still sat between them, the altar cloth slipping off the last edge near to her, the middle still grasped in her small left fist, which was gloved in leather looking material, the fighter affixed firmly above it, on her toned arm.

Leather straps were wrapped around each upper arm, just above the elbow-and had blackened spikes, metallic. Meant to tear a man to pieces, those spikes. A weapon belt hung off one curved and leather armored hip, the handles to more than a few things shining there, in the light.

"...guess he called the first bout." The blue iris' glittered with what seemed to be two things-mild caution, and mild battle lust. Repressed battle lust. Not her turn. Soon.

...insane woman, she was.

She walked around the altar, the cloth still in hand-then let it trail from her fingers, standing three feet to the right of the altar, and five to the right of Tres.

Watching her captain and the other man, for now, though one got the feeling he was also being watching in her peripheral vision. ((Sliiiight Edit~))

"You're seriously warning me of that? Seriously?"-Arian Lennox

Oh for the love of--

MOAR WAITING?

Didn't these "fighters" understand that you never came to a battlefield unprepared? Why hadn't Joey taken care of his equipment before setting foot on the Cathedral grounds? What if he had been facing down somebody a lot meaner and extremely unforgiving that decided to just ******** him over before he had a chance to prepare? Thankfully, for Joey at least, Damon had cameras focusing on him and he imagined that attacking an unprepared fighter would get him branded as very unsportsmanlike fighter. While generally most people didn't care about that, Damon did.

Though it was not to say that Damon was just going to idle like some kind of absentminded douche. He opened his mind, letting the machinations that held his powers in check go lax. For a brief moment he felt lightheaded and the world around him became a haze, giving way to a rush of energy all throughout his body. His concentrated his mind upon manipulating the area around his leg so that the floor beneath his foot cracked further and fissured out into a spiderweb pattern all around. It was something not very easy to miss, though Joey was probably more concerned with getting his s**t together.

Finally, when he stood up and shifted into his fighting stance, Damon's smile only widened. Yeah, under normal circumstances he would have gone into a martial arts stance of his own and fought this battle mano-a-mano. However, tournament time was serious time, no room for playing around.

"Catch."

Damon pulled his right leg back and then swung it hard back down towards the ground, the ball of his foot meeting the cracked ground with a massive--

CRACKOOOM

An explosion of rocks and sharp upturned debris was sent sailing in Joey's direction like a shotgun blast. The mysterious force at work behind the blast being a controlled burst of psychokinetic force. As Damon had calibrated the attack, the rocks were aimed to strike his opponents general direction and be dispersed outwards when they made contact. Which they probably would if the two were within at least 15 feet of each other. Thankfully Damon was standing far enough inside the Cathedral that when the rocks actually made it towards the entrance, they would just harmlessly land on the ground near the security rails.

This opening attack would leave Joey two crisp options and a fraction of a seconds of debate upon which one to take. He could either take the hit, or attempt to dodge--either way, Damon wasn't even close to being finished yet.

1

As mentioned before, Damon was not even close to finished! Immediately after sending his rockgun attack in his opponents direction, he leaned forwards on the ball of his right foot and took off in a light run. The energy that had previously been concentrated into his right leg was now evenly spreading throughout his body creating an opaque, transparent aura around him.

The dense psychokinetic force created armor all around him that was about as solid and sturdy as iron, given that Damon had been alloted plenty of time to draw and focus the power correctly. If he wanted he could make it as hard as solid steel, but that would cost him his offensive techniques, spend his energy more rapidly, and bring about the bad side-effects of psionics too early. And iron was just fine for what he was wanting to accomplish, it would null the force of him being struck and if he landed a punch it would be certain to hurt despite whatever defenses his opponent would have. Or so he hoped.

He'd find out soon enough--

JOEY PAWUNCH Wrote:

Joey buried his chin into his neck as the rocks came flying forwards. Twisting his torso a little he watched the debris carefully, and just before a particularly large rock was about to smack into him, he lunged forward, even jumping a little, and smashed his bracer covered left arm straight into it, superman style.

"RAARGHHH"

Because by the time this happened, he was right up in Joey's face. Following behind his attack, using it as a diversion in order to make the guy break his guard and leave himself open. That was the gameplan.

For a brief second Joey would be punching with his left and his bodily movements would be out of his control. Damon's attack would come swiftly, like lighting, probably unseen due to Joey focusing his punch on that piece of rock.

Damon's body would turn perpendicular to Joey so that his right side was facing forwards, stamp down on his right foot and drive his right fist upwards in a hard uppercut towards the deep underside of Joey's chin at the same time. The iron fist could leave a big mark, but if that wasn't enough, Damon intended to release another blast of energy at point blank range. Not enough to break Joey's neck, but enough to send him airborne. If he could send rocks forwards, he could send a man forwards.

Just encase of any surprises, however off considering the time frame in which this was happening, Damon's left fist remained in a chambered position in front of his chest as a second line of defense. Damon figured all of his plans worked together nicely, if only because Joey was so compliant.

2

STRIKER

Alex, watching the match intently, jumped in whilst Joey was smashing the rock, easily seeing the blatant tactic of the other guy.

Just before Damon popped up infront of Joey to deliver his attack, Alex would suddenly appear behind him, his movement covered by the sounds of flying debris and overly zealous satanic priests. [lawl]

Easily covering the small distance between them, with surprisingly swift movements considering his size, Alex would attack before Damon had a chance to unleash his own. The 7ft giant would swing his battle axe at the mans legs. Aiming to take him out just above the knees.

As the guy had some kind of psionic armor on him, the axe probably wouldn't cleave through both legs, but as it was only the strength of iron and not steel, combined with Alex's dazzling strength..well, let's just say it was gonna be messy.

Brushing shoulders with the crowd that had formed, Rachel had finally managed to get through and into the cathedral. The fresh and new top hat adorned on the top of her head must have been the ticket to passing by so easily. Upon entering it would seem that her comrades had already paired off for their fights. Hell, even one of the fights started before she even got there. Rather disheartening, she already felt bad by being late, but she wouldn't cry over it. No, she had to keep up that appearance as the big bad wolf.

Her eyes watched over the swift movements of the two currently in battle. Surprisingly, she was more interested in watching her own captain rather than his opponent. She had already determined to herself that there was no way he could lose this fight before leaving her quarters, and so it was more beneficial to pay attention to a success rather than a failure. It would be very valuable to pay attention to him to learn just what it takes to be a winner in these sort of things. She could still remember the unforgiving headache she had from her last fight, and watching a fine fighter like Joey would hopefully teach her how to avoid the mistakes she made. Maybe being dealt this card as a spectator for this round wasn't such a bad thing, she could definitely needed this opportunity to absorb information from her seniors.

Reaching into her coat pocket, Rachel retrieved that small, plastic, electric cigarette with in. She needed her hit and she had time to kill. Bringing it to her lips she sucked on the end, the whole process atomizing the liquid nicotine as she inhaled it into her mouth. Exhaling with a sigh she moved her hand to the side of her head and continued to watch, that is until the loud-mouth buffoon started his yelling. He's probably trying to get his ugly face on the news. Her eyes shifted underneath the dark brim of her top hat. Which reminds me as I go off on this random tangent. Where the hell is everybody's top hat? I was told this was the damn uniform and it's ridiculous. Figures they would haze the newbie in this way, it's a common practice amongst gentlemen, but why a top hat? Rachel took herself off from that train of thought and back to the ugly man nearby. She didn't like for her snobbish upbringing to show through, but there was a need to correct the misinformed. People have valued educated rebels through out history so it might not even be that big of a deal.

In a cool, collected attitude, possibly capable of getting her a large fan base in the near future with her fellow punkish rebel peers, Rachel would challenge "the man".

"The correct quote is 'The regulars are coming out' you joker."

Her eyes would return to the fight taking place, again inhaling the apple flavored vapors of necessity.

After whiffing with his Axe, Alex took a step back as Joey manhandled the psionic fighter. Now, if Damon could see Alex approach whilst firing off rocks and god knows what out of his brain, then there was no way in hell Alex was gonna miss the girl marching in through the entrance, directly up to the group, and finally attacking Joey. No way.

Alex watched the girl move and shadowed her, there wasn't alot of distance between the entrance, Joey and Damon, the spectators..and well..anyone. It was all pretty close knit, she wouldn't be that hard to follow.

Quote: but with a twist of her body the entire momentum of her charge was brought into the draw as her already enhanced right arm flicked it ou--

"Not so fast." his voice echoed from behind her. His other Axe drawn from it's strap on his back, would slam down against where she was about to draw her sword from, possibly hitting her hand in the process, possibly not. Either way it would be a good distraction for Joey to alert him to her presence.

Whatever happened, he knew this was the last action he could make before his time in the ring expired. And as soon as his axe made contact, he would abandon the weapon, and simply hop backwards a few feet, back pedalling untill he was once more at the sidelines.

Oh, how many assumptions were there to set the scene straight?

Well... assuming that a helmet-donning man in the midst of a heated brawl had the time or care to casually look up and through both fighters towards a crowd of spectators to spot one little girl he had no idea even existed;

And assuming that time somehow moved slow enough for him to distinguish the oncoming blur ((metaphor)) as a threat (again, through the bodies of the two combatants right in front of him);

And assuming that he managed to pull himself from the midst of battle, move around both combatants, pull out another weight-based weapon, and pinpoint an attack at a location he had a split second to predict (taking in the omniscience of the weapon, attack type, location, and enhanced speed of someone he, again, never knew existed, as well as the precise knowledge of how to counter it) all in a waning period of a few seconds, taking into account that he had already entered the fight some 5 seconds ago and still needed enough time to trudge off the field within his 10-second limit;

Then, yes, the hapless woman would be inches away from missing a hand, saved only by the fact that the angle and power of the blow would jar the axe flat against her forearm. This, of course, would send both the axe (since its wielder elected to abandon it directly after contact) and the hilt of her Katana into the back of this "Joey". It wouldn't be nearly as hard as the original blow, but with both combined (the axe especially) it would likely produce the same effect... which was, essentially, alot of blunt-force trauma to the spine, as well as some cutting/cleaving power to be tested against the metal of his... err... metal.

Saya herself would let out an ear-splitting scream, jump back, and scramble off to the sidelines to attend to a very serious injury.

However, that was one frightening equation that the balance of the universe probably wouldn't be terribly happy about. This author was particularly anxious to think that things didn't need to get so complicated, and that the announced attacked was made as posted, and that hit-or-miss the swordswoman would bound off to the sidelines to rest. Though the rest wouldn't be as legitimate as a half-missing hand, pushing her body beyond its human limits was a very taxing exercise. Her deity granted her the power to fight, after all; not the power to survive... especially not unscathed.

The psion had managed to walk Joey into a very bad position by making him angle himself down and focus entirely on controlling that arm. Taking a step forwards so that he was directly facing his opponent again, Damon's unhindered left hand would shoot forwards and aim to clamp firmly down onto Joey's now unarmored face. It was something he wouldn't be able to prevent happening because of his aim to keep control over the lure, the right arm. It had been set up that way.

Time to get nasty!

A rippling concussive explosion of psycokinetic energy was be released at point blank into the man's skull just as he was getting his arm into a ready position to fire the electric claws from the bracer. Now what would this do to him? Simple, hey there badly damaged eyeballs, hello crushed nose, and so long front teeth and prudy smile!

The force of the psychokinesis would hopefully send Joey reeling backwards with all manner of critical injuries. Nothing life threatening, but definately something that would make this fight fall totally in Damon's favor. If for some reason, though, Joey did manage to get off the electrical claws there would be nothing Damon could do to prevent them from striking into his weakened psychokinetic barrier.

The electricity would surge violently all around and through Damon's psychic armor and into his body causing mild burns all over and burning his clothing. Not to mention once the attack was over the barrier would just straight up fail because of Damon losing his ability to focus it due in part to AUGGH SHOCKING. Of course Joey would be in a much worse state with this face being turned into putty.

4

Some blood splattered onto Damon's hand as he sent Joey flying across the Cathedral. The warm liquid dripped from his palm, a nasty trophy for the first brutal tactic the psion had done in a fight in a long time. Even with his body tingling all over and the smell of burnt clothe reaching his nostrils, the feeling of the blood in his hands was... exciting.

Having only been in this fight for about forty seconds Damon wasn't even close to tapped of his psychic energy, he had just been getting warmed up. And now it was time to move on with the show. After all it was no use letting the ground he had gained slip away from him. Especially with the possibility of a striker looming over him, that's the last thing he wanted to deal with right now.

What to do, though?

Gray eyes flicked rapidly around the Cathedral as Joey landed to the ground. There had to be something around here he could use to take advantage of his opponents downed position--then his eyes locked onto something. EUREKA!

Filling his body with a rush of energy and focusing it down the lengths of his arms, Damon brought them up towards a pew next to Joey's downed body. He concentrated on using his psychokinesis on the pew for a second, transmitting his energy into the wood, cloth and supports on the bottom. He shook it a few times and then in one great motion ripped the damn thing from the ground and flipped it over sideways on top of Joey, the poor man probably just now getting a look at Damon after recovering.

Making an assumption, Joey's perception of the world would take a few moments to register what Damon's arms were aiming at when he looked up, and by then a good hundred pounds of wood, bibles, and hymnals would be slammed on top of him. Still, if he happened to notice the pew the chances of him getting up and getting out of the way were pretty low. There was a lot of pain about to be rained down upon him, and yeah, he was armored, but armor can only handle so much blunt force trauma at a time.

However, Joey wasn't the only one that would feel pain from that. The fact was, Damon attempting to slam that pew on top of Joey was pushing it pretty hard. He could move big objects sure if given time to concentrate, but he just wasn't adept at moving them far. The simple act of ripping that pew up and flipping it over taxed his mind, causing his head to ache. His psychokinetic powers weren't drained exceedingly, but he definately wasn't going to be flipping any more pews for the rest of the fight. Not that he would want to anyways.

From now on he was going to rely on his physical strength, skill and low level psionics to complete the match. And there was something laying on the ground that could help him. The man known as Alex had dropped his axe after his striker, it was just laying there, calling out to Damon to come and pick it up. A thin smile would stretch across his face as he moved a couple of steps to do just that...

5

I should have slayed you!

The most annoying part about watching others fight was that one could not coach. Tres had been standing very quiet ever sense the fight began. The reason he did not say much was because all he wanted to say were the type of things his father would scream at him every time he was in his presence during combat. He didn't worry too much however, Tres had fought Damon personally and knew he was a good fighter. He found that Damons strongest aspect was his heart. The ******** could take a hit, even though he was a damned psion...Which was very unusual.

Like that, Dragon last week!

"Hm."

Up until this point Damon had been using his powers for the majority of his combat, mostly because of his opponents unusual nature and the strikers being thrown against him. However, with that last attack of his failing, Damon figured it was time to stop playing around and get in close and beat the crap out of the guy still he stopped twitching.

Surrounding his right arm in psychokinetic force, Damon reached down and levitated the axe into his hand. If this thing were trapped his arm hand would be spared any kind of magical explosion or spikes due to the psychokinetic force acting as a buffer. Now the real fight would begin.

Glancing up towards the quickly approaching Joey, Damon took off into a light run that matched the speed of his opponents. The axe was held out to his right side with his left shoulder turned towards Joey, that way as soon as they got close to each other Damon could step down on his right foot and swing the axe in a hard horizontal from right to left and aim to smash Joey in the forearms or upperbicep, depending upon whatever action he decided to take.

This, however, was only a precursor so something much greater Damon was planning...

6

Quote: Joey slowed just before Damon took the swing, anticipating his movement through his body language. When the axe was about half way through it's swing, Joey would duck underneath it's arc, and pop right back up on the left whilst it was still swinging to the right.

WHOOSH

The axe violently swung over Joey's head as he ducked down, instead passing through his tall hair and taking a little off the top. Strands of brown hair fluttered through the air now in the blades wake. Joey may not have realized it now, but he had just made the most critical mistake possible in this fight and Damon's plan was already going into action. The psychokinetic energy surrounding Damon's arm rapidly extended over the axe blade, now only covering Damon's hand and wrist and blunting the edge of the blade.

Quote: As he rose back up he kept one bracer to the right of his head, protecting him from Damon's free hand, with his other bracer looking to land square on Damon's chin. The movement was crisp and clean, barely pausing inbetween actions.

Of course Joey didn't seem to think things through all that well, which was only going to make what Damon was planning all the easier. The first thing was that Joey's right was now facing Damon's right shoulder seeing as he ducked and moved off to his left. This meant the only arm that could have reached Damon was being used to guard against an attack that just wasn't going to come. If Joey intended to hit Damon with his left fist, he was going to have to raise up and swing it into a hook for Damon's jaw--presumably that is what he was doing.

Quote: The axe was enormous, much bigger than your average axe, that meant it would be kind of hard to wield for someone who hadn't used it before. At any rate, Joey was chancing his attack based on the assumption that Damon wouldn't be able to wield the weapon like a rapier or something. Even Alex couldn't do that.

LT Katsu Wrote:

Seeing that his punch was going to miss as he rose upwards, (that would be around the time Damon went into a ZANGIEF spin?) he wasn't about to go through with the attack just because he had started it. What was this, KoF?, no, Joey let himself fall forwards and around Damon's ankles. He was already crouched, so it wouldn't exactly be hard. He Curled around his feet like a cat (read: Fetal position), he grabbed just above Damon's ankle bones with his gauntlets, and let the electricity run through. Both of them releasing charges into one area at the same time..that was alot of electricity.

Ignoring all technicalities and other such things, Joey had somehow managed to just sense what was going to happen and cancel his attack--deciding that dropping to the ground and getting ahold of Damon's legs was the way to go!

So Damon now had to contend with the fact that this dude was curling up at his feet like some kind of little eel and sending an unknown amount of electricity up through his body. The hum of the jolts was accompanied by the muscles in Damon's legs tensing violently and painful burns shooting up his legs and into his pelvis. The natural reaction, seeing as this was happening after the spin, was to immediately stop and channel what psychokinetic power there was in his body into his legs. Which wasn't going to be much considering that a jolt of electricity running through the body is a nasty hindrance to one's focus.

It would, however, still be enough to relieve Damon of further shock after the first initial one. The first reason being that the electricity would be derived of it's conductor and so couldn't continue to go through Damon's body, and the second reason being that the electricity would start heading into the ground, seeing as most time electricity is just trying to find the quickest way to the ground anyway.

So, now it was time to start retaliating for the bullshit thrown his way. Axe in hand, mind racing to keep the electricity at bay, and the rush of adrenaline driving him forwards, Damon turned the axe upside down and started violently ramming the top into Joey's side as hard as humanly possible, aiming for the lose ribs and other such things. At certain intervals he would also aim for the side of Joey's skull, if it presented itself as a reasonable target. Damon was hoping to inflict as much damage as possible and leave his opponent as nothing more than a bloody, barely alive mass at his feet.

8

Joey's armor would be adequate protection for the first few blows as Damon unleashed his FURY by repeatedly slamming him in the side. The electricity still flowing through his bracers, he started to punch the back of Damon's legs with the spikes on his left bracer. Even though they weren't extended, they were still as sharp as ever.

As for the electricity, although it would try to find it's way to the ground, it would still have to pass through Damon's feet to get there, infact it was pretty awe inspiring that the guy was still standing so sturdily.

As for Damon's attack on Joey's head..well they wouldn't exactly work too well, since his head was behind Damon's legs. Well, Damon could do some weird twist to reach his head, but it would be awkward, and besides, he was tucked pretty closely to his legs.

LT Katsu Wrote:

Joey's armor would be adequate protection for the first few blows as Damon unleashed his FURY by repeatedly slamming him in the side. The electricity still flowing through his bracers, he started to punch the back of Damon's legs with the spikes on his left bracer. Even though they weren't extended, they were still as sharp as ever.

Joey would probably have figured his armor would hold up against the power of a large axe being violently slammed agianst it over and over, but he'd have a horrible realization of one thing very quickly; armor is dispatched by blunt force trauma. The metal of the armor would start to dent inwards into his side painfully and make breathing difficult, seeing as the sides need to expand and the ribs flex in order to allow an inhale. Joey's options would be pretty limited from there on out, he could choose to take shallow breaths which would hinder his fighting or abandon the armor.

Then again he would probably want to wait till the fight was over before taking off his armor, less he leave himself open in more ways than one.

That's probably why Joey was now laying at Damon's feet, clinging to the last shred of whatever he was running off while being smashed in the side and working through the pain of a crushed face. Funny how people can just work through the pain of something like that. Anyway, now that Joey had had his fun playing grabass, Damon figured it was time he made an escape.

"HAAH!"

Sending the top of the axe hard into Joey's side one last time, Damon immediately pulled himself up and brought his legs up and out of Joey's grasp in one strong vault, seeing as he was now going for an awkwardly aimed punch and therefore releasing Damon from his grasp. The psion's feet would land just behind Joey's legs and he would quickly turn around to face his downed opponent. The axe was still resting firmly in his grip, just hanging limply at his side, blade etched into the cracked cathedral floor.

Having forced more psychokinetic energy out of himself than he had intended to for the moment, Damon had to relax his mind. For once Joey would actually have a chance to get back to his feet if he hadn't already decided to call it quits. Of course Damon would still be ready to take him down hard with the axe in his hand, psychokinetic energy slowly starting to build up around his body again as he focused.

"You should give up now, Joey."

Seemed the vice captain was ready for the fight to end anyway. Damon wouldn't say anything to him, though, instead just wanting to watch things play out. He probably didn't realize that having Joey walk out now would mean the same thing as giving up.

9

A thin smile stretched across Damon's face, he was certainly pleased to hear those words. Not that the fight had been particularly grueling on him, even though his head was throbbing and his flesh all down his legs felt like hot coals had been poured down his pants. All in all, completing a match in one boxing round was a good start for his team.

"Good."

That said, Damon turned and walked over towards the sidelines, taking the axe with him. There was no need for the weapon to be on the field where it could be used against his teammates. He would take a spot near Saya and sit down, eager to see Tres or Darious get on with the next match.

"Against the law?"

Arian was right where she had been before, the spilled wine and wafers still on the floor behind her, to the left of the altar and Tres' left.

Six or seven feet. One hand resting on a dagger handle on her left hip-the other twirling a short knife with a flat leather covered handle, flipping it through her fingers in an absent display of dexterity. Not a single cut to be had on the small, slender digits.

Vibrantly colored eyes had been rooted firmly to the fight, expression impassive...then slowly shifting to one of calculation and concentration-and then one of temper.

She was...annoyed. And somewhat concerned. He was beat up somewhat...badly.

But the feeling of annoyance, of tenseness-it stayed with her. Yes, indeed. The fight winded down, and she hoped the near taunt-the suggestion that he should give up-would spur the Captain of Team Britain into action, into winning-

But no.

"I give up"

The intensity of her gaze, which had been boring into the captain's back-faltered, and she blinked once, genuinely surprised.

...give...up?

Arian realized she was twirling the small knife, and sheathed it angrily into it's proper concealed slot in her leather armor-muttering a soft curse in her native Courtelli, watching Joey stumble off to get medical attention.

Poor guy had taken a beating-but dammit.

Arian took her hand from her hip, the leather looking gloves hanging from her belt-she had taken them off, briefly, and now pulled them back on, juuuust in case.

If Alex called for a striker-eyes flicked to the iron clad man, sincerely hoping he did not-then only her and Rachel-whom Arian STILL hadn't met-were available.

The top hat was still hidden away. She didn't move to put it on now, either.

Gave up. Arian could sympathize to a point-but that was all. She'd rather die than give up. To surrender.

She would either be KO'd, or she'd be killed. That's the way it would be, if she could not win.

Eyes cut to the side at the spoken words of the larger man, her opponent. Had he JUST realized she was here? He hadn't responded to anything she had done or said earlier, she had taken to just ignoring his presence, since he did not wish to speak. Now he spoke, and she pondered an answer. "No doubt." Came the exotically accented words, vowels lilted, hard endings soft. She sounded and looked determined, gaze flickering back to the crazed seeming priest.

"But it seems we are for last." Indeed it did...

"You're seriously warning me of that? Seriously?"-Arian Lennox

Joey sat on the floor as a medic tended to his face, dabbing it with some kind of material. He didn't flinch or anything, just sat there with a satisfied smile plastered across his blood soaked cheeks.

He unlatched his bracers and let them hit the ground with a loud CLANG. Was he disappointed? he wasn't sure. What he was sure of though, was that he wasn't going to leave the cathedral before their match was over.

"Sorry about that you guys, guess I just didn't have it in me today."

He shrugged, addressing his team mates. Joey was the type that was always laid back, even after having his face blown up. There was no hint of self-pity or self consciousness in his words, only honesty.

He swept his now bare hands through his hair..hastily remembering that Damon had chopped a large chunk of it off, making it look rather normal for a change. Suddenly, rage.

"Against the law?"

Ah, but the thing about Arian is...you only saw what she wanted you to see.

She had made the comment on the wine and wafers, curious to see a reaction-and while yes, she did find communion to be a bit off the wall-Arian herself wore a gold cross beneath her armor, around her neck.

Even now, she had a belief in God-although it was not exactly what you could call 'traditional.'

Even if she had somehow known what Tres was sure of-she wouldn't have cared. She was not here for anything more than a fight. She had spoken to her other team members exactly once, and hardly at all since.

She was the odd one out, you could say-foreign to Gaia's mainland and the other's home island.

Had he voiced such opinions-she would have only replied that it hardly mattered what he thought. Only what she could do, and what he could do to stop or beat the s**t out of her.

He was big. Arian's not foolish enough to think herself the ultimate badass.

One dark and delicately shaped brow arched over her left eye when he spoke.

She neither glared nor reacted angrily, a thoughtful expression gracing, a moment, the outlaw's indeed beautiful face. Beautiful woman-but wild.

"Oh?" As if she thought it was just as likely to be the OTHER way around, her beating HIS face in. Still thoughtful. She didn't react at all to the comment about her team mate.

"I don't believe I'd enjoy that, much." And that was the end of that.

Turned her gaze back to the fight, though her eyes flickered with fire, still low, simmering-but there. She's got a challenge on her hands, just by the way he held himself.

That, was very much to her liking.

((Alex, are you going?))

"You're seriously warning me of that? Seriously?"-Arian Lennox

"Against the law?"

((Thank you.))

She's feeling impatient. Not unusual-quite the norm, actually.

Arian's weight shifted to her left leg, which had straightened-and then she pivoted on it, kicking off suddenly with her right foot, body turning sharply to face him as her right cloth boot came down upon the floor.

Vibrantly colored eyes were calculative and sharply attentive-as her right hand unhooked her weapon belt, left drawing two spike daggers and sheathing them at the small of her back, parallel to the ground in two slits in her armor.

She didn't plan to use them-but just in case. Arian twisted each into place.

Right hand pulled away the weapon belt, tossed it aside, where it slid into the far wall of the altar, where a piano might have been, once.

Tres didn't seem to be weapon weilding. And she found little sport in cutting up what couldn't cut back. Plus-given that last fight, she had the feeling he'd steal one of her OWN weapons to dice her up with.

So. No belt for her.

Backing off another couple of feet, her eyes flicked over the apse they stood on. Then the altar, the spilled wine and wafers, the cloth-the shallow steps down to the aisle, and so forth. Then back to Tres. "Shall we commence an attempted rearrangement of my 'pretty' face and your own features, Mr. Ecstuffuan?" She seemed to have put an added effort into speaking his name without her accent-as it was fainter there, less pronounced. But she didn't pull it off completely, and it, as with the rest of her speech-came out more exotic sounding, vowels having a special lilt and the hard sounds softened.

Knees slightly bent, hands only half curled, left elbow up and out while the other was closer to her body-she watched him, weighing out the current adversary, not about to go see the captain or wait for the armored one to begin his battle.

If he wouldn't fight at the same time, then he wouldn't fight at all, until she was finished with hers-or dead. Ah well.

She was far enough away in case Tres lunged or threw himself at her-she'd have reaction time. For anything he did-even though she had the suspicion he was faster than he looked.

Well. So was she.

Time to have some damned fun~

"You're seriously warning me of that? Seriously?"-Arian Lennox

Rather unexpected of the captain, Rachel doubted very much that he would submit over such an uneventful bout that lacked so much heart. His nonchalant attitude, the smile he has, there had to be something more to it that he thought would benefit the team as a whole. Possibly if he did this as the captain it would relax their opponents enough so that the fights would more easily turn unto Britain's favor. Rachel's eyes shifted over to Damon who had already let the small victory get to his head. If this is a psychological move then maybe it's going to work after all. The whole thing was a rather solid gamble in her opinion. Everybody had confidence in each other already to walk through this. Sacrificing one round out of the match to possibly seal with the deal by destroying the strongest guard of all, the mental one, seemed like a very good decision.

As she finished trying to understand what could be happening for herself Rachel's eyes shifted upon noticing the talking between her fellow teammate and Tres. Arian I believe her name was. Even though she was smaller than Rachel, she commanded an air of respect so great. She was in fact, a real wolf, one of the characters Rachel would admire in the graphic novels she poured her life into reading. She didn't seem to talk much or want to interact much, and Rachel just saw her as some sort of mercenary looking for a fight and some prize money, but maybe she wasn't being fair to her. It's not as if Rachel had made the slumber party either.

Tres had one of those annoying attitudes nobody could stand. He'd probably eat his own stool thinking that he was so perfect. Though possibly an act, chances are he really was that way. His cheesy lines made Rachel want to through her palm to her face. "Not another batty case..." Rachel mumbled under her breath, bringing the electric cigarette to her lips again. She was going to need every hit of nicotine she could get to get through listening to these guys. Rachel remained alert, watching over the start of this next fight. Already she wasn't impressed with her opponent's display but was extremely curious on how their outsider would perform.

A foul stench approached her that demanded her attention, the rancid smell of his breath was enough to stop to even put the French to shame. In a rather uninteresting voice he demanded a fight between the two. As her attention moved to glance him over a brow quirked. She didn't think she'd end up fighting here, but maybe fate had a surprise for her at this moment. The vapors of the sweet apple scented nicotine vanished from sight and the electric cigarette cooled. This guy sure did talk a lot.

After delivering his stereotypical evil bad guy crap, Rachel remained silent. This guy was seriously a case. Her hands moved to her slides, at the same time dropping the small plastic cigarette into the pocket. Her fingers curled, the tips stroked at her palms, she had to admit she was pretty thrilled that she would now have her chance to show the world what she had in her. Honestly, knowing that people were watching this time was rather stressful. I can't mess up here.

The obscene man, possibly the ugliest she's ever had the misfortune to set eyes upon, finally appeared as he was readying himself for a fight. So he was serious about this, it was on, she would have to do her majesty proud. But before she could even bring herself into her stance, she noticed that he picked up a holy book, in Arabic... Ingrained into the minds of her ancestors for centuries and trickling down to her, this was one thing she could not tolerate. No wonder this man appeared to be such vile scum, he was one of them.

A modern crusade? That's what this could turn in to. Even though they had their differences, it would seem that Rachel was given the task to vanquish these people from the entitled land of her people, much like the Moors were gloriously chased out of Spain. This would be the vengeance the entire World sought after Cassius Clay's first championship win. The fate of what is good now depended on her shoulders to obliterate this foul enemy. By some coincidence there was an alter to her back, above it a fine marble statutes of St. Michael, St. Joseph, and the Virgin Mother. It was a sign, this was a divine mission fate had dealt her, and she was protected by the father above.

Calculating in her mind about a distance of five meters away from the demon she was to face, Rachel would not grant him the respect any real fighter deserved. She inhaled while swishing her tongue around in her mouth to collect saliva, and in almost the same instant she pushed her body forward a bit to spit at her opponent's feet. Maybe if she was lucky he'd be dumb enough to walk onto it, witches and demons seemed to melt to that kind of stuff all the time. After spitting at his feet Rachel raised her loose fists to face level and adjusted her her footing for the right in the back and left in the front. With a slight bend in the knees she moved in place by bouncing on the balls. She was ready to slay this demon with the blessing of God, her majesty, and the millions who wished to finally purge the world of the blasphemous.

I."Against the law?"

(Tres Ecstuffuan VS. Arian Lennox! (Yay fun~))

Ech-that was WAY cheesy...Arian was only amused though. She wasn't 'sexy'. Not supposed to be, anyway. People sometimes found her beautiful-and Arian supposed she might be, looking like her mother-but she didn't want to be pretty, she wanted to be formidable. She worked to be TERRIFYING, not sexy. If he imagined himself to be some sort of Godlike sex symbol-good for him. Cocky as ********, but hardly her problem.

She hardly found many 'attractive'. Men, women or otherwise. Too involved in beating the s**t out of people, plotting the downfall of overpowered assholes, and blowing things up to bother-and rather sexist to begin with. Only now does Arian take a moment to decide that yes-he was fairly good looking. And that yes-she still didn't care. Not at all a surprise, on that note-she wants to fight, and fight hard, not sit here and fawn over him-or anyone, for that matter.

Dangerous a gloves indeed. She really hopes he doesn't ****** her face up with those. Sure, she likes to be scary-but scarring...no...she had already received her mark, she didn't want more, some man living with the satisfaction of forever marking her.

Plus, losing teeth sucked. She knows-some of her own were fake. Convincing-but fake. The false replacements for teeth she HAD broken before were touched with her tongue on the inside of her mouth, not at all noticeable to anyone-and only half thought about by her. She didn't want to take a hit to the face with those. Oh no.

She watched him take his stance-and then move forward. Graceful indeed. Quick. Much faster than he looked. Arian didn't sit still long enough to watch him 'float' all the way past the altar. Retreat? Like hell.

Her left leg, slightly further ahead of the right-tensed, unseen beneath the cloak-but happening all the same. She burst off of it just as he barely began to bring his leg around to kick, as if she had correctly assumed it-or rather, had THAT damned fast reaction time. Flat out sprinting, Arian twisted her upper body just slightly to her left, bent a little-her right arm coming up slightly, presenting her shoulder and upper arm as a battering ram, left hand gripping her right fist to give it added force-as Arian kicked hard off her right leg, straightening her body into him, ramming that shoulder and arm into Tres' leather jacket and God knew what else covered torso, his kick connecting with her right hip at his thigh, possibly slightly lower-which greatly reduced it's impact and power-and just as that kick connected, Arian's left foot hooked just behind his right-and she would attempt to yank it out from under him. Her right leg had ended up being ahead and leading, and it was this leg she had shifted her weight to just before his leg hit her hip-but with the ramming into his chest and now the yanking of his supporting foot, it was clear she meant to knock him down.

Even if it meant sacrificing her own current vertical position-going down with him.

But she's got a plan for that.

Actions:

-Burst forward before he reached her to finish kick, interrupting action

-Rammed her right shoulder and upper side of right arm into him in an attempt to startle/knock over-

-Coupled that by attempting to yank his supporting foot out from under him.

Damage Taken: Negligible damage to her right hip-though three layers of leather further softened the blow.

"You're seriously warning me of that? Seriously?"-Arian Lennox

I should have slayed you!

The attack she made was so awkward. Usually when one initiated a shoulder ram, a move Tres didn't use anyway...they would need there rear leg behind them in order to remain balanced. The opponent however had attempted to wrap her rear left leg attempting to hook around his rear leg. That meant that she must have let her weight fly forward into Tres.

Luckily because the kick connected by the thigh it would allow him to set down his left leg. Though the thing about muay thai kicks is that they were thrown down at an angle at the target and therefor were set down more quickly than a simple low roundhouse. The technique of the muay thai kick would have Tres's rear leg bended, lowering his center of gravity and making him a harder structure to knock off balance.

Just before impact Tres would shift his weight forward and raise his left arm so that the left forearm was against the opponents upper arm (bicep/tricep area), softening the impact of the shoulder ram considerably and preventing her attempt to trip him completely.

Because of his lowered center of gravity the larger and more powerfully built fighter was not knocked off balance and would be able to react with an attack as soon as she made contact.

He would pump his knees and throw a huge right shovel hook to the girls unguarded throat. The shovel hook would be made with the area of the hand between the right index finger and right thumb.

If Tres landed the attack he would pump his knees and attempt to lift the girl up into the air in the same motion as the strike with a choke hold. The force of the impact against her throat would deal massive damage to the wind pipe and knock her up so that her left leg would unhook itself from his right.

"Tss!"

If the attack landed Tres would toss her body down through the elevated surface of the alter. It would be startling to the girl how easily her body would be snatched up by the single arm.

This b***h was about to be sacrificed.

Like that, Dragon last week!

Rachel must have had some type of instant dodge if she was capable of stopping someone with a decorative, spear length candlestick. Regardless of how it happened, the woman lucked out by avoiding the hot wax. Sensing it was going to take a little more time to find a weakness to her, Darious began to charge his malicious sakari energy. Darious realized this arena helped him channel his energy more freely, thus making his techniques more effective.

Screwing the thought of being defensive, the sadistic priest ran towards Rachel with evil intentions. Keeping the Qur'an as a shield and the candlestick as a spear, it was obvious he was sticking to his original plan to bash her skull. Sadly the hot wax wasn't going to be included, making him pissed somewhat.

45,000 SE

[2/17]

[ Darious vs Rachel ]

Whatever strategy she was coming up with would be pointless. Darious not only possessed good endurance, but was keen to provide some surprises to his adversary. Maneuvering herself to face Darious' left side, she would have to realize the cat and mouse game would just prolong the battle and typically make the battle boring.

Closing in, the sadistic priest dropped the useless candlestick and revealed his trademark satanic cross that was concealed in his sleeve. Like the name addressed, the satanic cross was a 4 bladed weapon with the ends of the cross unhinged like a switchblade. Serrated and spear pointed, these lethal blade were quite useful when required.

Instantly, Darious engaged his opponent with a right horizontal elbow strike for the center of the chest, however the motions behind the elbow strikes cloaked the rapid horizontal slashes attempting to cut this woman. Continuing to move forward and cocking his elbow in the same pattern, she wasn't going to be more than 3 feet, forcing Rachel to try to evade the upcoming slashes coming for her chest. Now the real fun would begin between them, forcing her to truly go with a defense as he chased her violently near the pews.

“ Don’t worry you’ll get this nice scar on your face soon.”

~ 45,000 SE ~

[3/17]

I should have slayed you!

Tres was a strange case. His beauty and physical perfection marked him as one born from humans who had surpassed there own humanity. He was born from hero's of an epic sort. Yet something happened in that birth that mutated what should have been a thing just short of a godling into a monster.

The groin shot hurt him making him falter for only a moment. His private parts throbbed even though the hit was but a passing and unintentional one. Tres's left arm would still be in its originally be in front of his chest and able to defend the stomach. The bladed elbow would strike the forearm rather than the stomach, glancing into the leather sleeve and off of the bracer beneath.

Immediately as she was thrown and as he recovered from the groin shot, he would come forward to chase her after noticing that there was armor against her throat during contact. He knew that because of that armor, her recovery time would be faster. He would move with the same footwork that he had used before.

However in his pursuit of the fallen warrior, she had turned to her back just in time to kick the bowl up to his face and because of the fact that Tres was now closer to the girl it would be more difficult to dodge it.

So he didn't...

As the girl arrived to the left side of the alter and the bowl was nearly about to strike Tres in the chest, he would throw a lead straight punch. The left fist would fly into the bowl and send the flat of the bowl rocketing towards the girls chin with the fist coming from behind. The bowl would not be against Tres's fist as the hand was let fly and would force the girl to second guess the length of the punch, making it difficult to defend against.

Like that dragon last week

[post 3]

Being so aggressive and taking the book to become something of a shield, some kind of opening had to come soon as her opponent continued to attack. She was sure that the shield he assumed would most likely keep his overall attention to his defense low. It wouldn't be long before he displayed that opening for her. The first slash he took that she dodged just moments earlier was enough for her to get a sense on how his body moved, the next few he would take would be all she needed to react accordingly. The first slash of his came and again she evaded it much in the same way as before, and then the second followed the same pattern, though this sent his arm out and extended. It was at this time she would pounce.

Quickly she stepped forward towards him to her left, on his outside, closing in the distance between the two he didn't seem able to break. While he would be preparing to move his arm again for the third strike, she would lift her her right arm and bring to where his arm and shoulder met before he could make the final horizontal slash. She bent the arm so that it would fold over his shoulder so that in this position it would be very difficult to move his arm.

If she were successful this far she would use her left hand to brace against his back as she would quickly muster the strength from her knees to twist both of their bodies, more so his, so now that he would be facing the holy water font with her slightly to his side facing his back. Upon the swinging of their bodies her arm would further branch out, gripping tighter around his shoulder and pushing up to pull back at his elbow.

If she were to also be successful in making it this far, Rachel would begin to lead off with her right foot to drag his body towards the water font, lifting and delivering multiple powerful strikes with her left forearm to his upper back, her way of coaxing him into walking along with her.

Such heat would be a severe problem in a situation like this, as such an intense thermal burn would surely be enough to send a person into shock if it were exposed to their skin. The thing was this heat was not being directly exposed to Rachel's skin. The most defining and treasured part of her costume was of course her long overcoat, white sweeping piece of fabric pretty much a simple lab coat with some stitching she did herself. How many other people can say that cosplay was going to save their a**? Cotton blend lab coats already took heat and burns very well by themselves, but being flame treated just extended the benefit even more. That's not to say that it couldn't catch fire, but it was simply very unlikely to happen, that's how these coats are designed.

An attempted head butt would miss, to be in the position she was in Rachel would have had to move her body to her opponent's outside, which meant that her head would be no where near his. After swinging him around it would be a similar situation where she would have to be off to his side somewhat to be able to drag him. That would mean her head would still be out of range from his bucking back if that is when he decided to attack.

At first the heat was barely felt, but with the constant pressure from his grip it effect was slowly felt. Rather minor, it definitely was not enough of a pain to cause her to panic and wildly pull away, the coat sleeve slowed the transfer of heat to her skin tremendously. She could tell there was something incredibly warm there though, and she could only guess it was his arm. Having a feeling he was planning something she would move with haste and drag him to the font, letting her left forearm slam into his back like a hammer. The font was close in proximity to them already, it was where she stood before moving when he approached with the horizontal elbow strike. Stopping right in front of the font, she was ready to baptize this demon.

"You give us grace through sacramental signs,

which tell us of the wonders of your unseen power.."

Rachel reached her left hand up for her opponent's head. The arm she used to hold his right arm increasingly grew hotter, but it still was not much of a problem. It'll probably be sore and blistered in the morning at this rate, but it was well worth it.

"In Baptism we use your gift of water,

which you have made a rich symbol of the grace

you give us in this sacrament. .."

With her fingers opening wide so that her palm could manage to cup the majority of the back of his head, Rachel closed down, pushing her hand down hoping to push his face deep into the pool of blessed water. If he were to try resist her pushing, she would only push down harder while pulling up at his right arm more hopefully to cause enough pain to have him submit getting dunked.

"At the very dawn of creation your Spirit breathed on the waters,

making them the well spring of all holiness.

In the waters of the Jordan

your Son was baptized by John and anointed with the Spirit..."

Rachel began to smile, she could feel the lights of heaven basking over her as she was triumphantly defeating evil.

"After his resurrection he told his disciples:

Go out and teach all nations,

baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit..."

If his head were in the pool at this point she would keep it there, she didn't care so much if he drowned in the holy water, evil did not deserve to live. He would have to submit to the will of the lord. If he still managed to resist being dunked she would put even more strength into pushing him down, pulling even tighter on his right arm.

"as we present our children to be reborn in the waters of baptism,

bless our preparations. Be with us here in the power of your Spirit.

Pour out that Spirit once more upon us.

May we grow in our own baptismal promises and in our faith in Christ and his Church and so be conscientious and faithful teachers of our children.

We ask this in the name of Jesus the Lord.."

Damon just shook his head at the situation that Darious had gotten himself into. The man had literally walked right into a trap, and was now facing getting a not-so-pleasant dip in a vat of holy water. As much as Damon would have enjoyed seeing Darious go for a swim, they were allies and it was time for the psion to bail his teammate of the mess, or at least try to.

Standing up quickly from the pew, his hand wrapping around the hilt of Saya's sword, he walked in bounds clicking his FIGHTER on. A screen showing a time limit immediately appeared.

Ten seconds.

His right arm filled with energy and a warming sensation came over him, along with a slight pressure on his forehead. The psychokinetic power surrounded the weapon in his hand and he let go of it, allowing it to float in mid air, blade facing away. Taking aim at Rachel's back, he threw his arm forward in dramatic fashion, fingers shaped to mock the visage of a gun. In perfect synergy the sword shot forwards soundlesslessly at a high rate of speed, the solid butt of the hilt aimed to strike her in the middle of the back dead on. It wouldn't cripple her, but it would hurt a whole lot and make her release Darious from her grasp.

There was such a low chance of her dodging, due to her back being to Damon and her entire focus being on Darious, the psion didn't bother to step back on the sidelines just yet. He wanted to wait and see the weapon make contact before using his psychokinesis to draw it back towards him, an effortless task. Darious was probably going to get a big kick out of suddenly feeling his opponent jolted in the spine, and would either make an attack then or just move away and then follow up.

Total Seconds: 5 1/2

[ Edit ]

To have the demon squirm to her hold, it was a very pleasing thing. He did well to fear the power of the lord, he wasn't completely justified to resist. Though all of us resist at first before joining him in the light for eternal happiness. Her hand would push down harder on his head, she was going to make him go under. He'd probably flop around like a magikarp once being submerged but that would only be temporary, the pain would only last until he accepted the lord as his Sheppard. Her attention and drive put so much into conquering over this evil man, she didn't even think about the possibility of a striker attacking her, and so didn't see it coming at all.

Her pushes against his head took on a new strength, she could feel that maybe he was beginning to buckle at his knees to give in. The climax of their fight was coming to an end, it'd soon wrap up with closing prayers. But all of a sudden a shooting pain traveled up and down her back. She didn't know where it came from or why, she didn't even have time to think about it before a headache ensued. The blunt of the katana had struck her in the back, and boy did it sting. If she were expecting it then maybe she could have taken it better, but being unprepared for it just meant she was suspect to the additional pains caused by surprise. It was a well timed striker, it not only prevented the possibility of her opponent from submitting right away but it could completely turn the tables in his favor.

As the pain traveled up her back and branched out to the limbs she temporarily lost her strength. Her grasp to his arm was let loose, her legs grew weak and her body drifted towards the alter where she started the fight. Stumbling, she eventually collapsed to her knees, her hands sprawled along the short wooden top. St. Michael watched over her. She kept her head down in her arms, her head slightly tilted so that she could peer from outside of the sudden darkness to watch her opponent. She was sure he was going to come for her while she was down for the moment, but she'd recover quick enough to at least scurry to a functioning defense. Breathing heavily, she could only wait. The break was needed to recover from the sudden shooting pain, but her headache was unlikely to fade away so fast. Playing opossum here would give her a much needed break, but it would probably benefit her opponent just as much. He now knew not to underestimate her, and that meant this fight was just about to get that much harder. Wiping the sweat from her face into her sleeve by slowly moving her head, the most she could do was wait for her opponent to approach her. Judging by what he's shown so far, she probably wouldn't have that long of a wait.

Despite the assault by the Psion, the b*****d proved useful in allowing himself to escape from her grasp. A look of brutality was drawn on the features of the sadist priest of Lu Bu. Weaken by his comrade; he sensed he would remind him of getting trapped later by this woman. However, Darious had more serious matters to attend to right now.

The consequences for belittling him would be painful, slowly pacing like a predator towards a wounded prey. Usually this was the moment he would literally maim his adversaries, but he watched as Damon went for a dangerous blunt strike to the back of the skull. The chances of a knockout were quite high, yet Darious Kaiq would stand about four feet away from her, waiting to see the fate of Rachel.

“Stay up, I still need to punish you some more!

[6/17]

((III)) (Arian VS. Tres))"Against the law?"

Arian had not, actually, turned her back. At all. Pulled herself BACK with that hand on the altar, found the bowl, and THEN kicked it-eyes were on the strong son of a b***h, the entire time. Watching. Waiting-and when his fist comes out for that bowl, when she realizes what was about to happen-or rather, assumes-Arian acts.

****** this a***e. He was hardly any fun.

Legs went limp and knees didn't bend so much as her body fell down on the collapsing legs-Arian's powerful thighs and calves tensing again as they ceased the fall, her right hand still on the corner of the altar, but this time lower-allowing her body to tilt forward, even as the bowl went flying off his hand in forward momentum, the punch going right past her head-and NOT GIVING ANY TIME for him to react to that, moving so fast as to make one wonder if she really WAS human-Arian shot forward off her spring wound legs, the spike dagger drawn in her left hand-as she crashed into his lower legs, aiming to knock him down for REAL this time, given that his forward punch might already have driven him off balance.

If force alone didn't bring him down-Arian had a second measure, just in case-

To aid in his fall, she also stabbed him directly behind the knee with the spike dagger. Holy HELL! Pain upon pain, and since she had crashed right into his leg, wrapping the left around it-it was undodgeable, dammit.

"You're seriously warning me of that? Seriously?"-Arian Lennox

The current thought lingering from his conscious would be something blunt and straight to the point, What The ********. How Rachel escapes his assault after being brutally drilled by the blunt of the weapon, Darious couldn't comprehend on the current events in this fight. Did this woman possess extrasensory perception? He didn't know, but her defensive maneuvers would make more sense if that was the case. Regardless how this occurred, Rachel was there prepared to attack him at any moment.

Kamiha Sayuri Wrote:

He's charging now too!

Wait what? Although he was originally four feet away from his opponent, the sadist priest never moved an inch while she went through her struggle with the Psion. Planted there like a hunter, he glanced as she began her motion for that desperate lunge. Removing two of his bladed beauties from his belt in quick succession, Darious smirked as he walked backwards. Mimicking her poor battle tactic, Rachel was going to be required to close the distance before that blade could pierce him.

Deciding the waiting game wasn't his strong suit, he flick both 4 bladed crosses one by one. Launching off the one from the left hand, the serrated cross that motioned like a shuriken was soaring towards the opponent. Aiming for the face, he had killing intent however the horizontal angle would only permit to slash into her cheek and at worse split the right ear in half. Eager like a serial killer, the second one went about two to three seconds after.

The initial target now pinpointed, it was the hand region that grasped onto the sword from Saya. Moving vertical, this had the potential to slice a hole through the hand and pinned onto the hilt. Wandering what her course of action would be, only one thought had to be said while within the sidelines during his time walking backwards.

" DOES DARIOUS KAIQ HAVE TO CUT A b***h?"

{ 33 outta 36 Crosses left }

~ 40,000 SE ~

[7/17]