HoH Square 09

General - Bright fluorescent lighting keeps everything well lit, even at night. If you can see through the crowd.

Weapons - None

Natural Element Resource - None

Bonus Effects - $12 beer in effect

A twenty-four hour carnival city has seemingly attached itself to the Crimson Hawk Hotel in a parasitic attempt to garner customers. Needless to say, the endeavor was wildly successful this year as was the last. Crowds, while ever-present may thin during certain hours during the night, but they never leave or, apparently, bathe.

Entrance can be made only through the Hotel itself with proof of purchase of a Heaven or Hell tournament ticket. All others, including Press, will be turned away at the gate. The Square grounds are fenced off with high walls from everywhere else to deny those who would just walk in without a ticket.

From the inside, the forty-foot high walls are covered with screens of every imaginable size and shape, closing the festival off with blinking, flickering, flashing incandescent light. Each screen shows clips from the tournament in progress, live fights, clips from last year, and the year before interspersed with ads by Deity Inc., Alpha thru Epsilon Corp., Creation Industries, and The Blazestar Empire.

Square goers, when not being berated with imagery from the omnipresent screens will be yelled at by loud speakers mounted on high poles to tell people periodically what time it is, where there's something interesting going on, when a fight is starting, and even where to turn their attention to watch video of a fight or an advertisement.

Concession stands and vendor stalls make up the body of the Square. Occasionally medical tents and Security Offices can be found in the event of a incident or injury, or to report missing and stolen properties. Men in suits can often be found and interviewed for information if someone needs something and can't be bothered to find it themselves. Security is available at a moments notice thanks in part to the thousands of invisible cameras filming everyone at every moment from every angle.

Every twenty five feet there are brightly colored "You are here" map boards for those who get lost in the knotted chaos of people.

At the center, though, is the heart of the Square. A raised platform twenty feet into the air with railed stairs leading to the top from all sides. The center Square is divided into quarters, each housing a small sunken pit arena for anyone interested in showing their abilities to do so at no cost.

Each arena is many feet into the ground and floored with sand for combatants to entertain while presenting no threat to anyone but themselves and their opponent. While the arenas are open through the top for those to watch from behind a safety rail, it is requested that spectators please refrain from throwing anything into the arenas or at the participants.

Between these pits is the skyrise tower that looks from a distance as a beacon reaching hundreds of feet into the air decorated at every possible place with high definition screens visible from even outside the carnival itself. High above, corporate boxes are mounted within this tower to watch and plan out of the reach of the common public; off limits to everyone.

Welcome to HoH Square.

Skritch, skritch.

He was walking through the carnival, this time his hands empty. Oh how the man wished for a cup of coffee or something close to it. Fingers scratched at his neck, he looked really bored. The Carnival was packed, the pathways brimming with grinning children and flustered mothers attempting to keep a hold on said children, and laughing fathers as they looked on.

He paid no mind to this.

Such terrible bad luck...

An audible sigh. Hands were replaced into pockets.

Connor felt the slip of paper in his hand, a crumpled thing, given the fact it had been dwelling in the warrior's pocket since he'd bought it. A ticket to the Heaven or Hell tournament. He'd bought it quite early upon hearing of the tournament from Griff, though the man had never had the chance to visit Latent until that day Griff sent him that message. He didn't know what he was gonna do with it, but it had gotten him into this place, and he might as well--

Hey, was that a Starbucks??

Thirty minutes later after standing in line, Connor came away nursing a Starbucks cup. One of those nifty insulated ones. He was happy.

And then he heard a hubbub and looked up to find a massive crowd clustered around...something.

He didn't pay attention to the signs, hence his confused expression, but upon getting in closer and jostling through the spectators, he figured it out. A fighting arena, by the looks of the four pits in the ground.

...Huh. I guess...well, looks interesting, to say the least.

Connor stood there, watching nothing really. No fights were going...yet. But Connor had that warrior look about him, and had that tendency to be drawn into unwanted frustrations.

Minutes passed however, and Connor was getting bored. So with a deep sigh he hopped down into an arena. He felt in the mood to fight, to relieve some stress over James not selecting him for the team...

Goddamn was he sore over that subject.

Thanks to the awesome technology of insulation, Connor's caff was still steaming hot, so he enjoyed, taking small sips.

If there were any fighters out there, they'd find him.

"...Huh?" His head swung around, and Connor looked up at this...kid.

That didn't take long.

And another cursory thought flitted across Connor's mind as his gold flecked green eyes roved over that sword and gauntlet.

...Damn, I left my sword back in Durem.

"You could say that, kid." And he was a kid, fifteen at most. Didn't look too tall though, slightly shorter than Connor who stood around 5'9", and unlike this kid, he wore no armor, just the strange stitch-weave pants and jacket and belted boots. No weapons for that matter either.

"What? You'd like a round?" Connor would be happy to oblige as one could tell by the...okay, no. Connor just looked lazy and bored.

"Yeah sure, come right down. And your sword? I don't mind. If you don't feel comfortable using it against me, that's okay."

He'd wait, still in the pit, sipping his coffee. Around the edges of the arena, the spectators were getting antsy, the current conversation piquing their curiosity. A fight was about to break out, they could feel it.

"...I'd suggest keeping it in the arena, however. You can't trust people these days. I promise, I won't touch it either."

Another sip, green eyes still locked on Alan.

"...I'm Connor, Alan."

(( Sorry for it taking so long, got distracted. ))

"...Teh." This kid...well, he seems kind enough. I can't help but feel guilty for doing this though.

Connor was staying silent, letting Alan prepare. The kid didn't know it, but he'd need to prepare for this fight.

I could go easy on him...but that wouldn't be any fun.

With a snort, Connor gestured with his free hand, taking the Starbucks to his lips. It was a clear signal to come at him, and why not? Alan had issued the challenge after all.

But it seemed Connor was just waiting there, completely nonchalant. He'd had a look in his eye and face that was far different from that frustration exhibited earlier.

He'd been grinning, awaiting the challenge.

Well, this wasn't unexpected.

Connor had assumed the boy would go for an attack as soon as he raised his coffee. It was practically a given. It was a good thing that the sword was sheathed.

Connor had one eye unobstructed, so all he could see was Alan dashing forwards and striking at his cup. Now, that wasn't allowed.

Connor's booted right foot rose swiftly. Kicking that sheathed blade away. Or rather, straight up into the air.

"...I waited half an hour for this coffee." Unacceptable.

The cup would be switched to his left hand while his right foot would lower to Alan's chest, booting him in the torso. Not much power, really, as he really just put his foot in Alan's way.

[3]

Again, not unexpected, though Connor was hoping the kid wouldn't take the obvious route and attack his knee. He'd rather have hid his nature a bit longer. He probably could have just bent his knee upwards or performed some sort wrestling kick or something; with his foot being gripped, he wouldn't have missed.

But then he'd have spilt his coffee.

Skeletal Structure Wrote:

Connor's skeleton is not what it seems. Due to experimentation and blah, blah, science s**t, his bones are extremely dense, not having the density of steel, but more of strengthened iron. This, of course, makes his bones much harder to fracture, break or even harm.

Of course, this doesn't apply to Connor's skin. The results of the knee strike would leave Connor bruised at the knee, but the limb still functional. Still, knees weren't supposed to bend that way, dense bones or not. Unfortunately for Alan, Connor's other, less talked about abilities had hardened him to pain, and he didn't flinch.

But he did kick out wildly with his gripped foot, fighting to maintain balance with his left. If he managed to free himself, he'd hop back a couple paces for some breathing room. All the while, he was hiding a grin behind that coffee cup.

"...Huh...half-empty."

"What the-?" Save whispered under his breath as he stumbled into the HoH square. Stepping forward into the ooze of human bodies, he immediately found himself forced into a current of movement. It seemed he'd stepped into a crowd heading for the Square's Arenas, or so he noted from a sign he glanced at in passing.

He had to get out of this damn swarm...

The bodies around him jostled and pushed, but then, in a flash of opportunity, a small gap appeared to his side, close to a wall. A door! He just had...to fight...past...yes!

With a forceful push against the folks next to him, and a lunge at the door's handle, the discombobulated teacher struggled his way into the doorway. On the other side, there was a hallway at the end which was another double door. He took a moment to breathe a sigh of relief, then walked curiously down the hall. The oddness evident by the vacant status of this hallway was dwarfed by his relief in his solitude, and so he thought nothing of simply walking to the far doors and moving through them.

On the other side was an Arena. Uh oh.

"Who is that?" The crowd around the stadium murmured.

"Is that Yusuke Urameshi?!" A poorly informed woman blurted.

"No, that's Save! That's the guy with the bombs!" An older man corrected.

Suddenly, the crowd around was buzzing with talk about Save's exploits, namely his trying to fight Lu Bu on his own last year, or his blowing off a guy's leg in his premier HoH fight...

"SAAAAVE!?" A woman yelled down at him, and the young teacher looked up at the crowd, "ARE YOU GOING TO FIGHT OR WHAT?!" She asked. Save looked around at the hollering, cheering group and smirked.

"Why not?" He answered, raising his arms in a conceding motion. Though it was impossible to have really heard his answer, the crowd erupted anyway.

"Someone get this guy an opponent!" They yelled. Save crossed his arms and looked around, still somewhat bewildered.

Save's blue eyes blinked.

"C-captain?!" He stammered, obviously as shocked by the entrance of the revealingly clad bombshell of a Team Captain as the rest of the crowd was.

"I-I mean! Yeah, of course!" He shouted. The crowd roared. Her excitement was certainly infectious.

Save's feet slid back, and it almost looked as though he were going to fall face first on the sandy floor. But as he did, his left hand shot in front of him and punched into the sand. His left leg then slid forward, positioning him to look more like he was about to tackle a football player rather then start a fight.

But really, how much of a difference was there?

And she was right, of course. they were out of HoH proper, but they weren't losers. It was a sore, sorry mistake on the part of another team that they'd ended up this way. Save didn't want it to end here. He wanted to experience moments of beautiful passion, wanted to sweat and bleed with a smile, he wanted hordes to laugh and cry with his victories and losses.

He wanted to fight.

"But under one condition. We start strong, we stay strong. No deception. No games. Just power. Let's put on a show that'll get more attention then those worthless fights in the main competition." He challenged.

He was set to charge, set to explode.

Was she?

((Gawd I'm sorry it took so long to get back to this, RL issue as usual, and my free time gets sucked up to near nothing towards the end of the week.))

Round 3 of 17, Does this kid know ANYTHING original!?

The rapid push-kicking did something unexpected. Alan, who had been holding his breath unthinkingly, to maintain his grip, began to slide back and forth on the sandpit floor with the man's foot movements!

Winglung Wrote:

The structure of Alan's race provides a unique respiratory and circulatory system, designed to distribute lighter-than-air gas-mixtures throughout the body, which allow for flight.

Due to Alan's mixed blood, however, his bone density remains that of an average human, and thus he is incapable of sustained flight, though it does allow for various impressive jumping and acrobatic feats.

During one of the rapid pull-backs in Connor's kicks, Alan crouches his legs quickly together, letting his feet slide slightly forward as he bends down to his knees. With the next hard-thrust of Connors kick, Alan leans back, pulling the weight of his body away from his feet and more twards Connor's foot and Alan's back, which impacts the sandy surface before Alan manages to use the leverage to kick up with both feet up towards Connor's face from Connor's left side.

This would hopefully put Alan's opponent on the receiving end of his heavy steel-toed boots, and erase all concerns of finishing the coffee.

(You're the best.)

Save's eyes narrowed. The fingers of his right hand spread out, and in the center of his palm, a softball sized orb of blue energy inflated into existance. The Mizu Bomb: Standard Sphere.

Quote: Standard Sphere (Traditionally: Seigyoku Family: Small Miner) : This blue, softball sized sphere is formed from condensed chi energy. Its power lies in its explosive nature, which is akin to that of a physical, military grenade. The Standard Sphere operates as such-

-The Standard Sphere manifests from the hand.

-The Standard Sphere can be placed on a surface by touching the Sphere to said surface. The Sphere will immediately bond to the presented surface. Once the bond is complete the Sphere leaves the user's hand.

-A time limit can be set on the Sphere, forcing it to explode on a turn determined at the moment the Sphere bonds to the surface of its victim, wall...etc. If a time limit is NOT set, the Sphere will explode on the user's next round

The bomb was cool to the touch. Its powerful output of fresh energy was calming, even as it was invigorating. Save's hind foot slid back. He watched his opponent lean forward and kick off the ground to charge.

She was fast. He couldn't hope to gain that sort of speed. He could hope to manipulate it.

He kicked off in response, sand spread in a dusty arc behind him, and he pushed into the ground with his left fist. The very ground beneath him hindered his movement, yet he pushed his charge. They were nearing each other quickly.

30 feet.

20 feet.

10 feet.

"Tso!" Save cried out, whipping his trailing right arm around, releasing the orb it held. The chi device flew to his right, and Bubble's left, landing about five feet to the side of where, had the two combatants continued their charge, they would have met.

But Save had no intention of staying that course.

If the plan went correctly, Save would now leap to the left, about ten feet, and draw his pair of iron knuckles. Bubbles, left unawares, would run right into the blast radius of the Mizu Bomb (Ten feet from center of impact) and be hurled, with a bit of explosive damage, towards Save's waiting punches.

What Save hoped was that his little speech had enamored Bubbles into the idea of a headlong charge. If he had tricked her well enough into thinking he was an honest type of fighter, well, then he'd just have bagged himself the immediate advantage.

And she would have learned the hard lesson of never letting letting your opponent dictate the pace of the fight. Even if he was a friend.

2.

Bubbles could only grind her teeth as she fell in Sage's trap. Unlike the other members of Team Reject that she chose after spending hours of research, examining and profiling every detail of them, Sage had kinda been pulled in at the last minute. Literally. As such, she knew very little about how he fought, and she knew nothing of those bombs until now.

The blast threw her off-course and to the floor. She rolled, banged shoulders and knees upon the makeshift arena before she could stabilize on all four and skid to a halt. Immediately, her neck snap up, looking for Save. She wasn't about to let him get her twice so early.

3.

Of course, Save didn't know much about her either, so no one would blame him for the uppercut. A strike with such strength to the gut would send any human, ready for it or not, in a strange world of bowel movements and pain, doubling over, powerless. Stomach, liver, kidneys, none were spared in times of war.

Except, Bubbles had none of those pesky organ things.

As an android, she was programmed to emulate pain. No one added any code for reacting like she had organs, though. She did grimace, but her head stayed up and her footing strong. The captain's right arm grabbed the fist at her gut and immediately pulled it down, and Save with it for a vicious headbutt.

Bubbles barely had time to grin.

Save was, despite his hopes, now himself confused.

There was no way she would have recovered so quickly from such a solid strike to such an obviously vulnerable area. And while he was smart, the deduction that she was an android hadn't quite yet entered his mind. Perhaps she just had a very high fortitude.

A very, very high fortitude.

As she pulled Save's hand down, Save's free hand shot forward to brace itself on her shoulder, or her large breast, or anything he could possibly use to push away from her.

The resolution of this instinctual defense mechanism happened to be her chest, just above her breast. Damn.

Crack.

For all his wild attempt, he was simply unprepared to stop her, and he didn't. Her head crashed into his head, her significantly tougher body easily doing more damage to him then the other way around.

Save whipped his arms, to free himself from her grasp, and stumbled backwards, disoriented by the surprise attack.

It was just after his second step back that he noticed something was missing from his hand. That blue, spherical something was now stuck on the space where his hand had so thoughtlessly been placed.

The power of a hand grenade, just above Bubble's right bubble.

Whoops.

[3

Mizu Bomb 2 Time Limit: 1 turn]

4.

Bubbles immediately let go of Save's arm. He could whip all he wanted, she had other plans. While he was busy stumbling back, she was busy taking advantage of the momentary dazing to try and overpower him.

"Hyeeeaaaaaah!"

As the man stepped back, Bubbles leaped in. Every mechanical muscles in her legs hissed as they sucked air within microscopic compartments to increase their density and potential strength. When her knees extended and shot her toward Save, the air exploded back out with the peculiar pop of an airsoft gun, and she was all over her opponent. The leap was really a dive; Bubbles' right hand flew forward to catch Save by the face. It was her signature move: using the weight of her whole body, she wanted to force Save off-balance and push him in a fall so she could, literally, cartwheel on his face.

Cartwheel.

On his face.

She didn't notice the bomb yet. She had a few seconds to notice it anyway, right? After that ... well, it would make itself known.

Save's blue eyes shot open as her hand wrapped around his mouth.

It was about now that he deduced she wasn't quite human.

His muffled grunt was likely unheeded, what with the crowd roaring around them and the sound of the back of his head being planted into the ground. Sand fired up around his head, even as it somewhat reduced the pain of the blow. But if you've ever had your head slammed into sand you know it's still not a very nice experiance.

But it was a close encounter, and that meant one thing. The third bomb.

It materialized in his left hand as he was falling to be struck, and just before the mind-clearing impact of his head to the ground, he managed to quickly clap it onto her wrist. As she finished her cartwheel, Save struggled to do only one thing.

Roll. The hell. Away.

And so he did. Still on his back, he rolled in the opposite direction her cartwheel was carrying her. And just as he got about ten or so feet away, the bomb on her chest detonated. Like the last time, it was something a bit unnerving to hear. The moment before it exploded, there was complete silence, then, like in a storm, a thunderous explosion of sound erupted, and the blue orb destabilized, sending visible waves of energy (visible by the distortion of the air, and a slight blue tinge) out from it in every direction. If you were inside the blast zone, it was akin to being hit with a hand grenade (The closer you were, of course, the more damage). If you weren't it felt like severe wind for a moment, then died down.

Save, blown over into another roll due to his perilously close proximity, threw his head up to see the effect of his blast. As he did this, he pushed himself up, and his eyes quickly darted to her wrist to make sure his other bomb had stuck.

[4

Mizu bomb 3: 1 turn]

Save's body jerked from the lightning, and no second bomb got placed. The "orbital cannon", though poorly named, was effective enough.

And even if Bubbles was useful for a moment to sheild him, once she was thrown over his body, he was hurled himself, the damage of being horridly close to a explosion's worth pounding into his chest.

He landed next to Bubbles, and turned.

Horrified, likely, was a proper adjective for Save's expression.

"Holy st. I killed her. Holy st. Holy s**t." It wasn't often that Save lost his composure. Killing his team captain (Well...not exactly killing) was an occasion with just enough merit to allow himself the luxury of freaking out.

He haphazardly tried to reassemble her, so that her missing parts were rearranged to look more like a mechanical elephant trunk then an arm, and he quickly began to realize there was no way he was fixing this mess alone.

"..."

Round 4 of 17, Hey, at least it\'s not another One Winged Angel remix..mp3)

Alan did not press the attack, instead, after letting go of his opponent's foot to finish his kick, he pushed off the floor with his hands to complete the flip, landing face forward, his feet landing lightly first on the ground, then solidifying their position as he exhaled.

He'd use the time Connor did to recover to take a few steps backwards and kneel to reclaim his sword, by the time he had done so, Connor had finished his statement.

Affirming his grip on the still-sheathed sword, Alan would look over to Connor with his youthful visage and give an almost-smirking smile.

"I thank you, now en'guarde!" This time, when Alan brushed off his right foot when he moved forward, his body propelled itself just slightly above the surface level, turning what was in his first charge a normal dash, into a gliding leap, making the closer of the distance a far smoother transition.

Then a particular thing happened. While still a good foot outside striking distance with his blade, Alan brought his sword to strike out, from left to right, in a very slight diagonal motion. Under normal circumstances it would have looked as if the person either had bad eyesight or was simply toying around. However, as he struck, Connor's Senses (if he had any sort of energy sense) would alert to danger.

A shock wave of magical energy leaped from the scabbard in the form of a brief arch, following the strike of the sword, right at Connor's chest and midsection.

Gale Slash Wrote:

Focus: Sword

Charge: Wind

Effect: The blade emits a one-time energy blast along the line of the sword. (Approximately 15 mph, length of slash 5 ft at smallest, no larger than 15 ft) The energy, while holding all normal "Spell" Properties (can be blocked by magic wards, etc.) strikes as a physical attack, and carries over the current condition of Alan's sword over in the attack. (If the blade is sheathed, the strike will be blunt, if it's on fire, the strike will be hot, etc.)

The strike can cut through crude materials and lesser alloys (Wood, flesh, aluminum) however it can be blocked by conventional means otherwise (Sword Parry, shield, etc.) The attack dissipates after hitting (anything it can't cut through) and cannot be reflected.

With the blade still in it's sheath, the attack would carry over the blunt aspects of the strike. However, at such a close range for a ranged attack, Alan was betting it would come as at least a mild surprise. As his sword-strike finished its arc, he would ball up the fist of his gauntlet, ready for a follow up as his momentum would carry him into Melee range.

((If you want further explanation onto how his abilities work, PM me.))

Save looked, bewildered, as the man scooped up Bubbles and carried her off.

"She was a robot?!" He spat at the man, as he lifted the robo-corpse off into the sky. Well, thank GOD. At least she could be repaired. Regular people weren't so easy to fix...

Save stared down at his feet, where some of the less important parts of his team leader were arranged on the ground. He scooped up a torn bit of metal, off of which a flap of artificial skin was hanging.

"Jeez." He sighed. Those bombs of his were really just overkill sometimes. If she had been anything but a robot, he might have been penalized for killing. Now he had the worry of death on his shoulders. Any other fighters that came to challenge him would have something of an advantage.

At least, until he got serious again.

"Well, I guess that's that." He said, and turned to walk off and out through the double doors he entered from. Suddenly, a young woman burst out through them and attempted to stopped him. She wore a clean business outfit and carried a clipboard in her hands. Her dark hair was tied back into a neat ponytail, and she walked perfectly in her high heeled shoes, even through the rolling sand.

"Wait! Save! My name is Celestia, I'm your team publicist! Please hold on one moment!" She cried as he tried to walk around her, thinking her another reporter. At the sound of her job title, however, he did pause and look at her.

"Whew...alright, so Team Rejects is planning a bit of a spectacle, a bit of a popularity booster, if you will. Each one of you is going to hop in an arena and simply demolish any opponent who comes to challenge you. The better you do, the more money the sponsoring companies will pay you personally. Sounds nice, right? Anyway, you need to just stay where you are so this arena doesn't get taken, and fight anyone who comes down. Got it? Great. I'll be back soon, sit tight!" She said, in her professionally trained fast-talk. Save just sat there, failing to get a word in. By the time she was gone, he'd just regained the ability to speak, and chose only to bury his face in his hands.

"These people are crazy!"

Round 5 of 17, Sucker-punches really suck, y'know?

As Connor would go to grab Alan's gauntlet, Alan would open his fingers up to grasp his hand with Connor's the clawed ends of the gauntlet would probably bite into the opponent's skin without Alan really thinking of it. He was used to fighting similarly armored opponents or those with resistances against such things.

However, there was another fist coming his way, and his sword was too large to use to parry it at such a close range. As Alan would almost collide into him, Connor would witness a bulging at Alan's back side, and a shocked look on Alan's face before his fist hit home.

Alan expected such a counter, and was smug, the blow to the face was timed well to help disorientate Connor, and to have him not notice immediately the expansion of his own wings. Alan had intended on reversing his momentum, indeed he tried. But his wings would not exit out of the shirt! Alan had bought the vestment in Gambino, and had forgotten that such outfits did not come with slits that allowed his wings to exit out of their hiding places. The mistake would cost him a steady blow to his abdomen, removing all the air out of both sets of his lungs. His body would return to normal weight and he would slump down to his knees, his gauntlet hand still desperately gripping onto Connors. Coughs would wrack his body and the world spun slightly as he gasped for air.

Stupid, stupid, stupid mistake. Alan would curse himself in his head.

Round 6 of 17, It's not the dog in the fight...

Alan let out another cough as he gasped for air, the spinning had settled as Connor leaned down. Alan would let go of his sword, letting it rest on the ground as he saw and heard Connor's offer for help.

Alan reached out toward Connor.

"Don't... pant"

His hands gripped onto Connor's shirt and tightened his grip. The gauntlet shimmered with a magical glow.

"let down..."

Suddenly with what seemed to be uncanny strenght for his size and weight, Alan would (if uninterrupted) turn his body as he pulled up on Connor, lifting him off the ground.

"your GUARD!"

Flipping him over his shoulder, Alan brought Connor down into the ground, back first. The force of the lift and slam was of such a strenght that it would likely knock the wind out of even Connor's sturdy frame.

Arm of Gigas Wrote:

Focus: Gauntlet

Charge: Earth

Effect:The gauntlet sends a surge of magical energy through Alan's body, temporarily doubling his strenght. Additionally, this also doubles his weight density in all forms of impact and leverage except the pull of gravity, allowing him to use this move mid-air with no determinable effects to his flight. Contrary to the power's name, this effect works for all of his body, and not just his arm.

The effect however only lasts a few short moments (1-2 posts maximum.)

Alan would be quick to take whatever opportunity he was provided from the slam and reclaim his sword, swinging the sheath down at Connor's chest and face with this reinforced strenght. However, just short of hitting the mark, the youth would halt his strike. Connor had taken the care to show mercy when Alan was down, Alan had felt the compulsion to do the same.

He would not, however, make Connors same mistake and lower his guard, instead he took a step away, still panting slightly from the ache in his abdomen.

Shiro leaned back, and did a short backflip off of the light post, landing on his hands, then completed the flip into a standing position. He appraised this person who's approached him, his eyes could be faintly heard whirring as they zoomed in and on on her individually, examining her physical features. By what he gathered, she appeared to be a fighter.

I seek conflict. Where there are warriors, there must be battle, yes?

He turned his left hand so his open palm faced her, and a small blue cloud of energy formed around the structure, with what appeared to be small crackling arcs of energy erupting from the cloud every so often.

Shiro's expression turned from a blank face to somewhat of a smile, perhaps even a smirk. He took three steps backwards, then one more, lowering into a stance. He would begin with Crane style, to see what she could do. He began to shuffle towards her left. He moved with a gliding step, graceful and practiced, so well executed he might as well have been hovering, completely unhindered by friction. Energy gathered around his body with increasing intensity.

[Gather Chi: 1/5]

"It's been some time since I've been in one of these places..."

Within one of the pits in the square stood Jack Nozima. Not much had been seen of him in quite a while, not since the last Heaven or Hell tournament. He still wore the same old black and red outfit he wore in the tournament, a black and red leather jacket with black leather pants, also a pair of steel soled boots adorned his feet. His black, and slightly gray at parts, hair had grown quite a bit. His fringe flicked out over his face in strands. A long thin pony tail had also been made.

"Time to wait..."

That's usually all it took, wait where people go to fight if you want to find one.

Heidi bounced on her toes back and forth. She shuffled in the opposite direction so they would always be face to face. Heidi was very efficient in many style of fighting, mainly CQC . It was a military style of combat that was very lethal if used correctly. Her experience in the field won her many metals and honors. As he moved forward she would assassin step backwards.

“…..”

The feint sound of clicking boots could be heard as she pounced backwards. She lower her body abit and opens her stance abit. She waited for the man to do something. She was testing him. The glowing energy still gathering around her it paced most faster now. Small arch of concentrated energy popped like electricity.

It had been about twenty minutes since he had fought Bubbles. It didn't yet seem like anyone was going to jump into Save's arena to fight him.

With the cacophonous noise from above, he couldn't have heard his publicist trying to get someone, anyone to fight him.

"Win a miniature Save bobble head! Just jump in the ring with the man himself for this LIMITED EDITION SAVE BOBBLE HEAD! It's a perfect gift for the whole family! It's head WIGGLES!"

She looked positively desperate, her arms full with hideous little figurines of Save, their heads lolling lazily as she spun around, jumping at each new person she could corner.

"It's the gift that keeps on giving! Just one fight! Please?!"

Save watched a person approach him from the other side of the arena. His right hand slowly moved up to his glasses, and he muttered something under his breath. A command word.

The glass of his spectacles had the appearance of flickering for a second, then returned to normal.

"As I thought. You were a teammate of Kichiro Oda's last year. I don't believe we got to speak very much, considering." He said. Then, at the man's question, Save looked up into the crowd, sighing.

"That's the idea. I sit here and fight until I lose. Anyone can challenge." He answered.

"Interested?"

And on the massive LED display,

MATCH 2

MATTHEW vs. SAVE

Save smirked.

He adopted no stance, but slipped both hands into his pockets and removed his pair of thick iron knuckles. Winding his fingers into the loops of the solid implements, Save began to simply, slowly walk towards Matt.

"Very well."

When he was close enough, Save, rather unceremoniously, raised his fists and threw two punches, one a light jab with his left hand at the center of Matt's face, and a right hook close after at his left cheek. Jabs though they were, the presence of iron knuckles was certainly a factor to consider. Unless Matt was a machine like Bubbles had been, he'd find even light jabs packed a bit of pain.

[1]

(It's an exhibition match! It's for fun! Don't sweat it.)

Save exhaled and connected his hook with Matt's raised left arm. The metal would hurt, but it was, in the end, just a punch. A trained fighter could take more then a few of these and press on.

While trading punches and ogling at their mastery was fun, it would quickly get old. Save had an advantage. The iron knuckles enabled him to do things people only using their regular fists couldn't.

His left arm, thankfully, hadn't had a lot of momentum or power, and was quickly brought back up to Save's front. It swept over his upper chest and face, and brushed Matt's own punch outside. Unlike Matt's deflection, Save's wasn't meant to tangling his arms on the inside of the space between them, but he was trying to push it out of the way, so there was a clear avenue between their bodies for Save to commence his strike through.

But he didn't just take the strike. No. First, he had to exploit his advantage. And he did that by stepping in. And he wouldn't stop there. Both of his fists would then tightly grip their knuckles and begin to launch what, for now, would be a quick four punch assault on the area just above Matt's hips. With each punch he'd attempt to push his body forward into Matt's, hopefully pushing him too far backwards with the first push, and knocking him back and off of his balance, only to further step with each punch and keep him off said balance.

Normal punches from this range hurt, but due to the close proximity, they often didn't amount to much, as the opponent's bodies were too close together. With iron wrapped around your punches, this tactic became much more effective. And Save didn't plan to let it go to waste.

[Summary: Save deflects Matt's punching arm outside.

He steps in, pushing Matt's body back with his own, hopefully surprising him enough to disrupt his balance.

He then begins to launch the first four of many punches to Matt's kidneys.]

[2]

In another unoccupied arena, there was a tent.

Yes, a tent.

If Ninon was supposed to be sitting in the damn place for as many fights as would come, she might as well do it while comfortable.

She was still leafing through the newspaper from the night before, sitting cross legged. The kerosene camping lamp was providing light despite the presence of daylight. Every now and again she'd look out at the opposite doorway, to see if anyone was going to come through.

So far, just dust.

Boooooring. Why couldn't the publicity lady work so hard to find her a fight?

Ninon flipped another page, eyes starting to glaze over. She'd read through most of the articles and was working on the STOCKS now.

Still had that map of Latent to peruse, too.

Should've brought more reading material.

All according to plan.

Shiro's kick would miss completely, and he would continue the rotating momentum. He was about to use his already low-to-the-ground position to his advantage.

His outstretched leg would continue sliding across the ground as it was quickly brought inward, to evade the first kick. When he faced her again after another quick rotation, arm outstretched, he would lunge forward, low to the ground, too low to be struck by the second attack, a roundhouse kick. Shiro would be directed towards whatever leg would be on the ground during her roundhouse kick, his arm intended to hook around her ankle/calf, and latch onto it tightly, taking Heidi down.

[Gather Chi: 3/5]

[Evaded 1st attack, lunged forward low to ground to evade 2nd, aiming to take you down by hooking your exposed leg.]

The shrimp inside glanced up, finger pausing just before she would've flipped to the obituaries. Which would've been moderately more entertaining than reading the stock listings earlier. Setting the newspaper aside, she would grin and stand up, to her full height.

Which was considerably more than could probably be said for anyone else who felt like heading in there. Ninon was all of five feet and an inch, and even at that she was just a little slight of build. Shrimp really was an adequate descriptor for her.

"Finally. Been waiting forever. I'm guessing you are too?"

She'd start forward, aiming to walk out of the tent under the assumption that this very tall man would let her out, and blink in the natural light for a moment.

She was wearing an orange turtleneck and a pair of dark red slacks, an over-sized red ribbon tied like a bandana around her neck, which she untied and tossed over her shoulder, before stretching. Sitting like that for that long left her in need of that, and the last thing she needed was a noose waiting ready around her neck.

Crick. Neck went one way.

"Nah."

Crack. Neck went the other.

Limbered up and ready to play, Ninon turned to face him as the screen above the arena lit up, announcing to all who might be interested that a fight was'a brewin'!

Round 1: Ninon vs. Jack

"Just don't make it boring, eh?"

She beckoned for him to come, grinning, relaxed as she can be.

{[Sorry for the wait! Went out yesterday for the first time in weeks! Minus a trip to the hospital! Haha.]}

"Oh don't worry..."

He paused for effect.

"...You won't have time to even think of the word boring!"

And with that the large man moved forward towards Ninon, a quick walk. They weren't too far apart in the first place so no need for a pointless run. Above the pit spectators had began to do what they did best, spectate. Jack had participated in last years Heaven or Hell so he had a tiny bit of fame. Nothing much though, but enough for people to recognise his name.

Quickly reaching Ninon his right hand shot out for a quick jab. A glove covered his hand, with metal platting on the fingers and knuckles for effect. Following this quick jab his left would fly around for a hook. This arm had been covered up in bandages, and for a reason that Ninon would find out eventually.

The spike of the halberd shot down right towards Jacks left foot. But instead of going right through his boot and foot the spike would be dig into the leather of the boot. It did poke through though and stabbed a bit into Jacks foot, but it was more force than stabbing damage. As soon as the halberd hit his foot Jacks left arm would grab out and take a firm grip on the staff, aiming to hold it in place in his foot!!!

His right arm still shot out for the jab, but with these new happenings of the halberd the jab changed into a grab! It flew around the girls head to take hold of her hair and back of her head. If said grab happened Jack would pull her head towards him and bring his right knee up into her face. This knee was also covered in a hard knee pad. And since the short girl was also crouching Jack's knee would reach her face much quicker.

It was like an eye for an eye type scenario. Jack gets stabbed in the foot, Ninon get's kneed in the face.

Save's flurry of punches left little thought of defense. The offensive nature of the attack was usually defense enough. However, on this occasion the young teacher was grabbed and thrown over the rolling body of his opponent. Not a bad way to dispatch the assault, Save thought to himself as he flew through the air and landed rolling on his right shoulder.

He stopped his roll almost immediately after it began, and found himself kneeling on the sand, facing the opposite direction as Matt. As he rose, he spun on his heels so the he was facing his opponent, who was likely also rising. As he stood waiting for Matt to rise, his left hand opened from its fist and a blue orb appeared on his palm. The Mizu Bomber, however, then split into four smaller, golf ball sized orbs the spiraled away from his palm and lazily floated around Save's body.

Variant Sphere Two Wrote:

Variant Sphere Two (Traditionally: Seigyoku Family: Four Miner's Charge): The Variant Sphere Two appears to be four spheres each the size of a golf ball. The Variant Sphere Two operates as follows-

-Variant Sphere Two is capable of launching at the opponent, controlled mentally by its creator.

-Variant Sphere Two, on explosion, releases waves which replace concussive force with pushing force. The target responds, barring unforseen defenses against the effect, as follows-

Subjects less then 100lbs are thrown in the direction of the user's choosing thirty feet.

Subjects less then 200lbs are thrown in the direction of the user's choosing twenty feet.

Subjects less then 300lbs are thrown in the direction of the user's choosing ten feet.

Subjects over 300lbs are stopped.

-While the Variant Sphere Two can lead to damage from being thrown into an obstacle it, by only power of its effect, does not harm the target with its own released force.

The four Variant Sphere Two orbs began a slow revolution around Save's body, as though waiting to be beckoned into use.

Save, otherwise, did nothing.

[3]

"Hm." Save hummed.

The teacher then began to walk, slowly, closing the ten foot distance between himself and Matt.

"My abilities give me complete control in this fight, Matthew. I suggest you forfiet. I must conserve my energy, I can't afford to be merciful," He Advised, "My next attack will end this match. You've been warned."

It was only after his pummeling strikes that Save realized how tired he could get. One fight was tough, a strain on his physical endurance. He was still aching, as well, from the mis-explosion of his mizu bomb, not to mention the burn of electric shock from his team captain.

The hand that had been still as he summoned the Variant Two orbs then spread its fingers, and another bomb appeared. This one only split into two, medium sized orbs.

Variant Sphere One Wrote:

Variant Sphere One (Traditionally: Seigyoku Family: Twin Miner's Leap) : The Variant Sphere One is reduced from the size of the Standard Sphere, putting it around the size of a golf ball. This explosive variant functions differently from the Standard Sphere as follows-

-Variant Sphere One may manifest as one or two golf ball sized spheres.

-Variant Sphere One is capable of launching at the opponent, controlled mentally by its creator. When launched in such a manner, the Variant Sphere One explodes on impact with the first surface it touches.

These larger orbs then floated up. The other orbs, which were floating in wait around Save, each rose in the air to join the larger ones and positioned themselves in front of Save.

[4 Variant two orbs (Pushers)

2 Variant one orbs (Explosive)]

[4]

Jack's hand closed around the shaft, but an impermanent weapon was ever so hard to keep in place, or control in any way. Ninon was a bugger like that. So, the moment he tried to take her control of her own weapon away, she just got rid of it. Simple as that.

Unfortunately, an eye to eye scenario would have her fully impaling his foot, him leaking blood all over and then having to rely more on the other, for a knee to the face. And seeing as this scenario had been prevented by the joys of leather, what took place next was an unequal exchange.

Knees hurt. It doesn't take a Muay Thai fighter to tell you that. Any street punk who'd taken a knee to the guy could tell you that. The kneecap was hard, the legs were the strongest part of the body. Especially in a trained fighter, it was like taking a hammer straight to the victimized area. Unfortunately for the short girl, that area happened to be her nose, which was right in the center of her face, and therefore the best candidate for breaking.

CRUNCH.

Her head would've snapped back with the force, if it hadn't been for the hand tangled into her hair. Instead, with nowhere else to go, no way to bend with the force, her nose just gave. That sickening crunch oughta make Jack smirk, unless those were new pants. Then, he'd probably be pretty unhappy, considering the subsequent gout of blood from the destroyed facial feature smeared all over them.

Her only real saving grace was probably that his knee had met her face so fast. She was right close, up in his grill, and he'd pulled her face in towards him, denying that knee time to reach maximum velocity. Although it'd clearly already done plenty of damage. She was dazed. So what'd she do?

One hand looped out in front of her, grabbing the knee in as tight a grip as possible. Set to hold it there. Considering Jack hadn't yet seen any evidence of her physical strength, he'd probably find it funny. He'd probably think he was in a position of domination.

He'd find out different if he tried to move that leg. It wasn't that she could keep it there. She was strong, but legs were stronger than arms. In the end, if he pulled, she'd lose her grip. She was counting on him underestimating how strong she was.

The other hand would come around as well, gripping the halberd again. The parrying hook was facing the inside of his knee this time. Her head was just all sorts of bleary, but this didn't require much thought. All she did next was simply jam that parrying hook in as deep as she could to the inside of his knee. The fleshy side. The weak side. Tendons, muscles, sinew... She was just trying to put a crippling hole in all of that.

Of course, she was in trouble if that failed. She was still trying to get her system to boot back up, so she could form proper strategies. So she could react to things fast enough. So she could keep the playing ground even. She was in a dangerous place at the moment, but she hoped that quick assault worked. It wasn't often you saw polearms being used like daggers, after all.

[2]

Mana: 11/61

SP: 170/200

Fireblast: 1 Turn Cooldown

]=[

The Desert of Aekea was once a war ground. And to prevent the death of many more humans, the Builder's League of Aekea enlisted G-Corp's Silent Flash Protocol, and full blown war between humans and machines was averted.

Not an event without victims.

"...Brother..."

Heaven or Hell at the Crimson Hawk lead him to Griff Morivan, but he found quickly what happened when one would assault a participant. An attack from security, and the attempt would fail entirely. So, for the time being.

Samuel stepped closer to the Square, looking over the would be combatants. He wanted to throw down. He wanted his brother's throat, but for now, he'd use some practice.

It'd been nearly thirty years since he'd last picked up a sword.

]=[

Aduven Kroww Wrote:

"Oi! I haven't got all day! The other pits are ta--" ]=[

SLAM!

The ground in the pit clattered as the heavy paladin landed feet first in the arena. Walking forward, his eyes just narrowed. He could tell Connor was a freak. He could just feel it. A godless abomination. And Samuel would do well to remove him from the world.

"Well, boy. Prepare to die."


]=[

"All the other pits are tak...oh. You're bigger up close."

And it was true. Connor was only 5'9" or something. Smaller than the paladin by a good few inches.

But that didn't stop him from craning his head back and smiling, all while taking another gulp of his coffee. It was getting cold by now, but hey. It was still coffee.

"Die? You do know the rules, right?" No killing and all that jazz.

Connor honestly couldn't care. He loved fighting and he was a tough mother ********.

He'd enjoy this.

If the paladin hadn't already initiated an attack during Connor's small, apparently one-sided conversation, Connor would take his coffee with him and charge Samuel, the luke-warm drink coming up to send dark liquid splashing all over the other man's face. It wasn't hot, but getting a face full of coffee ought to be distracting to anyone.

[1/17]

Abigail had been doing nothing more then wandering around the Square. She had spent long enough just watching the fights in bars she had finally bent her stiff neck long enough to sneak her and all of her equipment into the grounds.

Like hell she was paying for a ticket.

She was wandering around with both a backpack as well as her other, combat pack over her shoulder when she found the multitude of fighting circles kicking around the HoH Square.

She was wearing her body suit as well as very baggy jeans, her hood hanging down her back in the same shape as her head, which would leave her blond hair open to public view. This was less important to her then people seeing the scar that ran from the corner of her right eye to her right ear lobe.

She would begin watching the fights and see nothing that really interested her. Her hand would trail to her utility belt (batman's but a genuine, not gay color) every now and then to touch her belt knife. She wasn't as interested in these fights as she was in the ones that she had watched PPV.

Now those ones kicked a**.

But now was intermission or whatever.

And she was bored.

Until she found a teen in the center of a pit alone.

And calling for challengers.

She had limited knowledge of Gaia Primus, but when it came to real life she knew a couple of things. It takes quite some time for a person to learn how to fight. The ways around this are: Crazy ******** Parents.

Or else the child is a Meta.

She would jump into the Pit immediately, dropping her two bags at her five foot nine frame's feet and staring at him with thirty mumble 's years worth of fighting experience.

"And who are you supposed to be?"

She would ask as she reached over her shoulders to grab onto her hood, pulling her body-suit's top over her own head, showing only dead black goggles where her blue eyes had been.

Yusuke really thought no one was going to rise to the challenge, his eyes searching amongst the people who were looking at one another to see if anyone was going to answer to it. Neither of them felt they had the courage or skill to fight someone such as Yusuke. Just when all was lost, a savior came in the form of a blond woman in white leaping down into the pit where he stood. From the look of it, she looked pretty fit, though her weird attire made him believe that this woman was not your typical lady. Hell, that scar alone on her face told him enough that this was a woman who had been in her share of fights.

The only problem was: she was a woman. Damn it. Now, when it came to fighting women, Yusuke had two sides to his perspective of them. Hitting a woman was wrong. But disrespecting a woman fighter was more wrong. Considering this woman didn't even look like your typical fair lady, it was a good assumption that he shouldn't try to underestimate her.

Wait, how old was this woman? She looked older than he was, too. Hell if he tries to put her on the same level as some girl just graduating from high school.

"Me? I'm Yusuke Urameshi."

His right thumb raised up and pressed against his chest proudly.

"What's your name, if you don't mind me asking, little lady?"

Yep, he had purposefully called her "little lady." He was just asking for a punch in the face right now, but it just went with his bad boy attitude.

Yusuke could not help but watch as the woman went to work with getting herself prepared.

"Hm?" The first thing that made him curious was the fact that she pulled out a needle, the types that the bad doctors usually use to stab into your arm to give you whatever medicine your body needed. But for her to bring it out, he wondered if it was for her...or him. If it was for him, then this was going to be a pretty odd opponent to fight. The more details he caught was that her boots were pretty deadly looking. Those sharp spikes did not look like rubber to him. He knew that if a kick was going to be coming his way, it wasn't going to be something he'll want to take. Even blocking was going to be difficult if he tried to take even one. And look at those gloves. Steel plating and spikes, too? She was just ready to poke some new holes into him, was she?

Then it was revealed that her shot was for herself, the needled injected into her arm. This made him even more curious as he watched her dose herself with whatever was within it before it dropped to the ground, following with her marching his way.

At this point, Yusuke frowned a bit on his face cause he knew this was not going to be one of the typical brawling fights that he was use to getting into. This woman had some dangerous weapons at her disposal, and all he had was his body. Flesh, muscle, and bone. He really was at a disadvantage...or was he? Yusuke wasn't scared or anything like that. He just knew that he wouldn't be able to take this easy. He was going to have to be careful how he moved and make use of his own weapon. He just hoped she didn't have any powers to go with those spikes.

Well, she was approaching now, so that meant the fight was about to get underway. The crowd was speechless as they awaited to see the performance that they're star was about to put on. Even with the threat of spikes and who knew what else being forced upon him, they had a feeling he wouldn't become her new punching bag so quick.

Yusuke's hands were pulled out, his legs became bent, and his eyes went into focus, his right foot sliding back as he was ready to get this show on the road. She was marching toward him, but he was not going to give her the time to try to walk her pace his way. Instead, he would bring the fight to her faster than she could blink her eye, the teen quickly pushing his sneakers against the sand, running forward at her. The sand kicked up behind him as he rushed her, both of his arms moving at his sides at the same rate as his legs. His path was not straight, but had a small left-to-right motion going with it to keep him loose in his movement.

1

Yusuke was expecting some type of attack to come from her. That's the thing, though: any attack that was going to come from her was going to be lethal no matter what. And with him running, she had the advantage of making him pay for running at her with a quick attack that he probably wouldn't be able to avoid with ease. Sure enough, she did something, a push kick aimed at his midsection, right around the stomach. This is where his left-to-right motion was going to help him.

The kick would come up and push forward, the sound of cloth tearing as the spikes on the front of the foot catch coat and shirt, bringing about a ripping across the area that she aimed for. But with the destruction of cloth, there was no force to object and push back. That was because Yusuke's running was moving to Abigail's left, his torso twisting counter-clockwise so that he could pass the kick without having to take a strike into the body, moving deep into her guard. The spikes did not go without taking something, for his abdomen, the left side of it, had good three scars struck across it as it reached past Yusuke's left side. It wasn't deep enough to be of any problems, but it did bring about that stinging sensation that she had scored first blood. First the pain was cold, then it became hot.

But he wasn't a pansy who was going to stop right there and begin to cry over a little scratch. He was going to continue forward, as she would find him swinging his left arm forward in a wide arc of a hook, his fist aiming for her face as he continued to move past her left, untwisting his torso to bring about this attack. He was pushing a lot of power and momentum into this attack. She could block it if she was able to, but with a teep kick in mid-motion, the force should be good enough to send her falling off balance, as if he had used a clothesline. Spikes or not, he was going to make sure she be the first one down.

2

((Forgot to mention which fist. It was the left, but it seems it won't matter much.))

Yusuke was quickly stopping himself where he was, his left foot stepping forward so he could dig his soles into the sand and help slow his run into a halt, thus he could keep his position near her and continue his assaults. He could see, however, that she held some quick reflexes of her own, as the punch didn't hit as exactly as he wished it to. Instead, it struck at the left side of her head.

The teenager had punched many-a-things in his day. People's face, stomachs, stone, rock, brick, dirt, you named it. So he knew when he hit something soft, it was soft. And when he hit something hard, it was hard. Striking something like rock, however, was surely something you didn't do unless you knew you could break through it. Fortunately, Yusuke held a special power that gave him just that amount of capability to make stone crack and bones break.

To say the least, his knuckles were not only conditioned for hitting into something that was hard, but they had some power of their own behind them, power that made this slim-shaped teen seem more stronger than he looked. When the attack landed, Abigail would feel more than just a simple bump on the head. That armor decreased the amount of force that she probably took, but the fact that the force would equal that of a normal grade A punch should be a sign that Yusuke's physical attacks were inhuman in strength. He could feel that the hood she put over her head was some type of protection for her. It felt more durable and tougher to the touch. Yet, he knew it would not matter when it came to someone like himself.

Abigail wouldn't just go losing her balance. She was going to be having her head swimming with concussive force, which would normally distort a person's concentration enough to where they would fall onto the ground without even realizing it. Yusuke's jeans would get a tear in the left leg as Abigail flailed to regain her balance, but he was saved from a good cut through the shin.

This was luck because she was now on the defensive trying to catch herself, giving him the very opening he needed to try to take her down while he still could.

"Here I come!" A mighty scream of determination reigned in his mind as he took action, now facing her again.

Yusuke lunged onto her position with haste from her left, kicking out his left foot to plant itself against her stomach/chest and bring his weight against her to use her imbalance to finally send her crashing backwards onto the ground, careful to avoid her flailing boots. Both of his hands would be open, quickly grasping for the wrist of each of her hands and securing them so that when her back hits the ground, should this all go as planned, both her body and her arms will get pinned straight against the sandy ground. After all would be said and done, Yusuke would be sitting on top of her with his knees resting on each side. A mounted position, to put it simply.

3

((I'll post tomorrow. Sleeeeepy.))

[/Impact]

The armor wouldn't stop that, unfortunately. Her mouth and chin were exposed with her current outfit. So as she tried in vain to hold onto the leg she would be pulled down and forwards a little bit. Not enough to change where the blow hit her. Just a few centimeters downwards, which wouldn't change much from her point of view.

A few things need to be remembered at this point, however.

Her boots have three inch spikes along them. If his left foot were behind her own left foot then when the punch came in and launched her both up and back there would be a heel spike raking along his calf muscle.

Very little for her to be happy about but it was all that she really had going for her.

She would land a couple of feet away on her back, staring up at the sky with a giant smile on her face. If he was approaching her right now then she would be nice and screwed.

And not in the fun way.

[/Footing]

If he wasn't, however. If he thought that his meta strength had knocked her unconscious then she might have enough time to take one deep breath around the blood beginning to pool in her mouth. She would do so, and then Kip-up, looking all the more impressive and cool because of the bloody spikes on her toes and heels.

If she managed this she would keep the smile on her face as she stared at him through her thick goggles. She would spit out blood into the sand on her left and pull her gloved hands up into an actual fighting stance. She hadn't done this yet so far. She had just kind of brawled a little bit and gotten her a** kicked because of it.

[/Creepy]

Her bloody smile would open up to reveal a simple set of words.

"You're fun to play with."

...

This woman looked to be almost double the teenagers age and yet she sounded as if she were a three year old. A little disconcerting... those words coming from that bloodied maw. With the amount of red pouring out it was almost certain that she had lost a tooth or two in that encounter.

On the outside she didn't seem too affected by that uppercut. The one that had sent her flying. But inside her mind was still spinning a bit. Had she injected the whole syringe she probably would have felt it as a flick, but as she was it felt... un-enjoyable.

Once she was sobered up she would probably get herself checked to see if she had a broken jaw.

While she was stoned?

She was loving it.

Even if she would have to continue to spit out blood for the duration of the fight.

Her fighting stance would be a basic kick-boxing stance, much of her weight on her rear (right) foot, left side leading ever so slightly. Hands up to cover her face. Now, maybe they could have a fight.

Four.

As he came forward Abigail would reduce her smile to a smirk, tightening up muscles, chambering jabs in such a way that she didn't really move too much. She began collecting blood and saliva in her mouth as a blinding tool should his face get too close to hers. She had seen it done in one of the fights in the second round and she liked it.

But then he stopped just beyond out-fighting distance to what seemed to be a dance on the spot. Well, if he gave her the time then... She would watch him closely as her right arm began to fall to her utility belt.

Should he jump her at this point she would do him the favor of dancing backwards to keep this same amount of distance between them until the following movements had occurred.

[/Prepare]

Her right hand would slip into one of the pockets and pull out almost immediately. The pockets had magnetic clasps so she didn't have to bother with snapping it back shut. And then she would pull her hand back up into it's high-ish guard. Only high because he was taller than her and so to block his punches she would need a less then ordinary guard for her face.

What was palmed in her right hand? Surprises. And she still had a mouth full of blood and saliva. She was fine with the waiting game, because even Meta's had to succumb to blood loss eventually. And even though her mouth was bleeding she was more likely to stay reasonable longer then he was with both his chest and legs bleeding.

Hell, even if he was super strong, it was doubtful that his super muscles would be able to function through blood loss.

This was this narrator's reasoning. Not Abigail's.

Abi's reasoning was that the sight of blood got her excited.

Five.

Abi bored. She didn't see him juicing himself up, and so all that she really observed was him standing there and bouncing. Hence bored. She really wanted to be the counter fighter in this encounter. But the adrenaline rushing through her veins forced her to act. Hell, her staying still for this one was a miracle in itself.

[/Ninja]

As he strafed to the left she would do the same, doing something else as she did so. She would throw her right hand out towards his feet. From her palm would emerge a pellet the same size as a marble. And it would impact the ground that he was standing on rather forcefully. Even though it was sand she had thrown this with accuracy and skill. It had been her thing for quite some time.

He most likely wouldn't catch it but she also would only throw this pellet with her first two fingers, the pinky and ring finger staying in the palm area.

Once it struck the ground (or his boot, whatever) it would shatter and send smoke out over the two contestants. A sound of 'Boo's' would be heard from the crowd as they couldn't see the action anymore, while they were also a little impressed with the novelty that the new girl was showing. The smoke cloud would only be 15 feet in diameter too, thickest at the center where they both stood.

She wouldn't really be hindered by her maneuver, for the goggles that she was wearing were for more then just aesthetics.

[/Sneak Attack]

And as he would probably still be in mid-strafe she would send her left arm around in a hook. Should be aimed for his jaw. She knew that he had been moving left, and she could see him almost as well as she could outside of the smoke, and assuming that his ki didn't give him extra-sensory perception then it should land.

Steel knuckles to the chin were not happy, especially when your own Meta speed was acting in the wrong direction.

[/Additional Damage]

The smoke would not be too good for him. Depending on how close he is to human he would feel his eyes begin to tear up. Breathing would be made more difficult. A cough wouldn't be too far of a stretch. She would be immune to the eye stuff as well because of the goggles on her face. And she wouldn't be inhaling too much of it either. She would be breathing through her nose, which admittedly is not the brightest idea in a fight but, she was holding onto the blood in her mouth to spit in his eyes should the situation arise.

And if it didn't well... a person can swallow a pint of blood without getting sick.

Also, if the punch were to strike Yusuke would understand one of the purposes behind the orientation of her spikes. Because, if the knuckles made contact with the chin then the spikes would be running across his jaw and cheek higher up. A few scratches to add to the situation.

How she liked harming Meta's.

Six.

Since he had ducked back from the punch Abigail would pull her punch back in, and so as he circled to her right she would keep in front of him. She wasn't about to let him get behind her.

[/Interrupt]

So as he was circling she would step across with her left foot, to turn her shoulders back towards him as he circled. Once she was still facing him this narrator would wonder as to whether or not him reading her aura would let him see her chambering her right leg at the same time as her step across.

So once she had stepped he would have a really strong right leg coming out to strike at his own left knee. She was aiming to hit his leg with her own shin. It was your basic low kick.

But if he was indeed that fast then either he would have his knee break on him or else he would just trip over her foot and fall down.

Very little chances of him getting skewered by her toe spikes on this one. She was aiming to strike him with her shin. And because of the smoke (and his own momentum) she should probably connect this one.

[/Surprise]

What would be worse for him would be the fact that she was wearing baggy jeans. And beneath those she wasn't just wearing her rubber-complex suit. She was wearing that as well as the adamantium armor that clipped onto the suit. Her shin armor was scaled with a single line of one inch spikes running down her shin's center line.

Loving the baggy pants that she had worn on purpose.

Seven.

[/Edited a couple words]

At this point, though it was doubtful that the thought would cross either of their heads, it should be pointed out that they had effectively switched positions. At the beginning of the fight she had been on the defensive, not able to throw up a counter attack, and he had had all of the time in the world.

Neat how these things happen in a fight.

[/Force the Attack]

With the solid contact of the kick she wouldn't bother pulling out, instead she would slide forwards, doing her best to keep her shin in contact with his leg as she did so. She was trying to close the gap between them so that she might be able to bring her left hook up into his right lower ribs, forcefully removing the air from his lungs.

She should be able to do this too, seeing as how he would now have two or three inch-long spikes sticking into his leg that were attached to her shin. And her shin was moving downwards to get her footing back.

Think about serrated blades and the joys that they cause to skin.

The man should be more then distracted enough for her rush to connect, seeing as how the punch would be landing close enough to the exact same time as her foot would be touching the ground.

And outside the smoke the crowd would be growing louder and louder, because even though the smoke was beginning to dissipate around the edges even faster then it did indoors, the place where the fighters were would be concealed still by a thick layer of smoke.

And on her leg, well... his pants wouldn't be the only ones tearing. Hell, hers would be tearing just as much as his leg should be at this point.

Eight.

The left arm being parried was... not a surprise but more of an inconvenience, for she knew that he couldn't see as well as her, but she also didn't expect him to be able to stop that punch.

Here's where his own troubles would come in, though.

[/Timing]

See, she had been aiming to have her punch land as her leg planted into the ground. Which would mean that her foot would still be crashing down as he parried the blow. So, as she knew that he wasn't going to be releasing his breath any time soon, and as he had an open pathway to her face she would simply follow her leg's downward momentum. See, as he would be sliding his right foot forwards and getting ready for his jab she would already be flowing downwards for the leg that he was giving her.

He may be super fast from his ki, but she doubted that he had ever been high on this particular cocktail of adrenaline enhancing drugs.

She might let him try it some time.

That isn't to say that he missed his strike entirely. He did miss his intended mark of her face, and instead caught the edge of her goggles with one knuckle, and the punch would glance into the back of her head for the most part. Just behind her left temple.

Also padded with metal.

But more importantly the fact was that the majority of the punch's blow would be remaining in his fist, and not transferred into her face. Which was nice on quite a few levels.

It should also be noted that her goggle's lenses were not rounded and nice. They were coarse and jagged edged. The fact that he had caught a knuckle on it would add some hurt to her eye area and probably give her a black eye, but should also tear open his right index knuckle.

He narrates as if it mattered.

[/Grounded]

Now, for her reason for bending her knees and going down. See, at this point she was pretty well straddling Yusuke, except that they were both standing. She had stepped outside of his left leg with her right and he had stepped into her with his own right.

Even though he was stronger then her and a little bigger then her she still knew how to use her lower center of gravity to her advantage. Her fore-arms would find the backs of his knees and pull towards her breasts at the same time as her right shoulder found its way into his gut/pubic area. At the same time as all of this she would thrust off of both of her firmly planted feet and aim to drive that shoulder straight through him. Her hands would meet in between his legs if at all possible to grasp her right wrist in her left hand to help the situation. So he would have a medium-sized drugged up woman football tackling him into the sand.

The most likely response was a sprawl, but because of his punch he would probably be too far vertical to get into sprawling position quickly enough. Even with his ki boosting his energy.

[/Uproar!Riot!]

And by now, though the crowd could see shadows moving around inside of the smoke cloud they were also getting very rowdy. They wanted to know who was doing what. They wanted to know if this girl had gotten her a** kicked in by their hero yet. They wanted to be entertained.

They hadn't paid good money to get into the Square to watch a smoke cloud, after all.

But they all stayed too. Because the suspense was killing them.

Nine.

[/Edit]

[/Ooc: I'm off to bed now. Early class tomorrow morning. Respond after it.]

[/Logic]

His left fist would not come anywhere near her face, for her right shoulder had been aimed to plant into his gut. This would put her head on the right side of his body meaning that even if he managed a strike on her head it would be at the most awkward angle imaginable.

During his almost sprawl Abigail would growl, a deep throaty noise that would move her lips enough to let a little blood spill out. Her mind was clouded. She had been certain that with his hurt leg she would be able to take him down easily.

Apparently this wasn't the case, even though she could a feel a little bit of give in that leg.

[/Fanservice]

The smoke would clear and the crowd would see their hero holding this tackle at bay, and they would erupt with cheers. It was loud. It pumped the fighter's adrenaline even more.

It wasn't nearly as good as crack, but Abigail liked the sounds.

Then she would feel him pushing at her shoulders to get some distance on her for his knee. This would be awkward, because since her right shoulder was in his gut it would be easy to assume that she was at an angle to him. Making him have to push harder with his left arm then his right, and making his right arm reach excessively.

Why is this important?

Just detailing how awkwardly he would be pushing against an opponent that already had a grip on the backs of his legs. And he would be pushing against her when she had a much lower center of gravity then him.

The push would be next to impossible.

But he's also super strong.

Doesn't mean that he doesn't make mistakes.

[/Ow]

The rising knee would be well known to Abigail. She knew that it was coming because of the fact that she was holding onto the back of it. And still would be as it came up. Now, the same as the punch mentioned before, her head was on the wrong side of her body to be hitting it with a left strike. Meaning that he would probably catch her shoulder.

Now, don't get me wrong. This was a sick knee that was coming her way, and a shoulder shot was enough to make her open her mouth to spray blood all over his side and the sand behind him and begin gasping for air.

But she was stoned off of her rocker. And super pissed at this guy for having gone to work on her this much in two simple strikes. She could work through the pain.

As stated she wouldn't let go of his leg during the strike, instead she would simply move her grip around so that his damaged knee would be in the crook of her right elbow. Now, the adrenaline caused by both her drugs and by her recent injury would give her the juice to tighten that grip at the moment of impact and perform the following.

[/Proceed]

Because of how she held him now she should finally be able to take him down by simply driving to her own right, and forwards. See, with his knee suspended such as it was he wouldn't have the balance required to keep himself up. And the logical action of stepping down really hard with his left leg wouldn't work too well because she would be pushing into him as soon as she had a deep breath.

And it was injured too.

[/Summary]

So: The knee hit her. Badly. She'll need to have the med team check both her jaw and her collar bone now. She would try to hold the knee to her chest, probably getting his blood all over herself in the process, and start pushing him backwards and to his left.

Ten.

As he dropped onto his knees only a fool with no ground wrestling training at all would be dumb enough to leave their forearms there to be crushed. Or rather they wouldn't leave their left forearm to be crushed by his right leg, and in all probability trapped.

No, she would instead pull her left arm out and so for the moment it was free.

[/Abort]

The one rational point in her mind understood that because he was bigger then her as well as sprawled that she wasn't going to be taking him down. And the less rational part of her mind- Or rather the majority of it- Was upset that she wasn't causing him pain.

So as his first elbow was falling she would be bringing her metal-knuckled left fist up into his groin.

This would be made all the easier because she would not have let go of his own left leg when they fell. She would keep that knee hugged in to her breasts for as long as she could. So it shouldn't be a moving target.

And so, as she was having a stab of pain running through her head he would be feeling much worse then she was.

After all, even with a cup those shots hurt. And she was wearing protective head gear. Not that she didn't feel it, and not that she didn't grit her teeth against it. Just that it shouldn't hurt nearly as much as what this teen would be feeling.

[/Why Am I Typing this?]

Then she would do something very rash, and in all probability very stupid. She would keep her left arm's momentum going around, beneath his left leg, past his a**, and grab for his belt on his back side.

She wanted out.

She would get out.

Because he was probably too distracted by pain to be moving to elbow her again she hoped to have a moment of respite long enough to pull very hard with her left arm. Her aim here was to slide, left shoulder first, between his legs, and since the pull would only be on one side of her body, she would most likely spin as well.

As narrated before: Rash and stupid. But she wanted to cause him some more pain and couldn't do so from where she had been.

Her pull would turn into a push as she freed her head, and she would begin to see just how much of her body she could get free beneath him before he reacted and clamped down.

She would aim to wind up on her back, which would roughly put him in mount, except oriented the wrong way.

And her shoes had spikes.

Narration stopped here to see just how much of her got through.

Eleven.

[/Edit]

[/Ooc: Running out for some errands.

Call it an hour or so before I'm back]

Actually, that particular rule had been taken out of the Codex as of this year. Not that he would know, because he wasn't a contestant, and not that she would know that there ever had been such a rule, because she just found out about this tournament this year.

Nevertheless, the crowds 'Boo's' would draw her eyes, not too sure why they were yelling at her. Admittedly, even she thought that a low blow was poor sportsmanship. But she also loved to cause pain in any way possible. Especially when she was pumped this full of adrenaline.

A few of the spectators in the crowd would begin to whisper that this was a legal shot, but every one of them would be ignored by the majority of the masses. I mean, this was one of their favorites rolling in the sand because of a cheap shot from a nobody. Who's going to listen to the defense of a nobody? And the few would even bothered to try and calm down the mob would be unsung heroes.

Abigail, on the other hand wouldn't bother to follow behind her attack, because with him rolling onto his left she would let go of his leg and stand up, kicking back away from him as fast as she could, probably spraying a little bit of sand at him in the process and proceed to raise both of her hands in the air.

She wasn't excited about a victory.

No, she was still staring at the crowd. With her middle fingers raised.

They weren't fighting, so they could ******** themselves.

And as much as she wanted to jump on top of this guy and pummel him until the crowd stormed the Pit and pulled her off, she wouldn't.

This is what she meant at the beginning when she said that she would only take half of a syringe so as to not kill him.

She would hold herself in restraint.

She would wait until he stood up himself.

The rational part of her mind left knew that if she jumped him now the crowd probably would storm their arena, and their aim would be to tear her to pieces.

Take on one man that she knew nothing about?

Sure.

Take on a mob?

Most certainly not.

Twelve.

[/Arena Control]

As he stood Abigail would bring her hands down to shoulder level, reeling her fingers back in, and keeping her hands in fists. She didn't know how he was going to react to her having nutted him. She also didn't know how he was going to react to her not having pounded his face in when she had the opportunity.

Her rational slice of brain decided that she should keep her self-preservation reasoning behind not killing him to herself. At least for now. She could explain to him later about her fear of the audience.

And then he began to address the stadium.

She would listen with only half an ear as she backed away from him. So when he looked back at her he would see that they were now around fifteen feet apart.

[Yusuke Urameshi] Wrote:

"But this isn't over yet. We still have a fight to finish. This time, it's my turn to show you my tricks."

The storm raging on did very little to her. Made her worry about the counter that she had ready, but only worry a little bit. She knew what was coming. At least the rational part of her did. She had been in Gaia Primus long enough to have seen this Dragonball Z type tactic, and she had even developed a counter for it.

[/Continue Preparing...?]

Admittedly, an imperfect counter, one that rarely worked, and one that she used only when necessary. But this time it was more to show off her skills to the HoH world.

Provided it worked.

She would be staring at him, just waiting for any indications that he was about to blast that ball of ki her way. Because the second that she caught any telegraphing towards that end she would have her right hand flying downwards.

Everyone has surprises.

He was in for one too.

...

Provided that she didn't ******** this up.

Fourteen.

A shift of the left foot.

That wasn't the same telegraph as a toss of a ki ball.

So she would hold off on her hand tossing down for an additional second, instead waiting until he launched towards her. Because there would be something that the intuitive reader would have caught several posts back.

[/Revelations]

When she threw the smoke pellet originally, she threw it with only two fingers.

That seems like an odd way to throw something, especially while leaving the other fingers tucked into the palm.

As if they were still holding something.

And thinking back one would realize that Abigail never once used her right fist after that toss. Right kicks and left punches were all. So she had never put into danger...

[/Dramatic Pause]

The smoke pellet remaining in her palm.

Admittedly, she hadn't intended on using it like this again. She had actually been planning on shoving it down his throat and then punching him there. But what can you do? A fighter adapts.

So as he approached her at his high speed he would see her disappear into a cloud of smoke, just as before. Now, with the wind that his energy was adding to the mix it likely wouldn't stick around for this full time, but it would cloud her following movements. With her right hand at her side she would take hold of one of the weapons that she had yet to draw upon.

The combat knife sheathed at her waist.

If he was stepping the game up then she would too.

[/Arm Self][/Interrupt]

She would draw it up into a back-handed grip as he approached, and as she was pulling back up into a regular fighting stance she would kick out again, just as before, in a teep kick.

But this time he shouldn't see it coming because of the smoke, and his aura should be strong enough to wipe her silly plain old human aura out of the picture. But even if not, this time he wasn't running in his side-to-side motion. Now he was charging right in.

He should run straight into her extended foot, and because of his now super situation she would definitely feel the jolt of it run up her legs, but not because of the taser effect.

Rubber based suit meant that electricity.

Unless that description was a comparison as to what it felt like, and not meaning that it actually was electricity.

...

Not sure where the narrator was going there.

...

[/Conclusion]

So: Knife drawn. Teep kick interrupt on the jab coming her way. Smoke should clear as he was running into her leg.

Fifteen.

These would be some excited people in the crowd. I mean... their hero charges up to Over Nine Thousand and races towards an opponent that immediately vanishes into smoke. And then the smoke is cleared away by the approach of their hero to reveal him with a boot in the gut and her with a great big knife in her hand.

[/Lost Cause]

The vibrations that she was feeling up her leg would be annoying, and after a while might get painful, but right now she was more concerned with the fact that her boot's sole was melting (decided Ooc). So as he kept coming forwards she would not bother with having her leg squished between the two. She would just let it slide down his left flank.

Negating his need of pushing it to the side, but as she was doing so she would make sure that she pitched her toes outwards. This would take the three spikes on the toe out of striking distance of his skin, but would also make the heel spike that much more prominent.

She was looking to gouge a long line down his side while he finished his approach.

Oddly enough, the damage to the bottom of the boot would not touch the metal spikes to any great degree.

[/Prepare][/Cringe]

Now for the punch, that was more of a problem. Because he was bigger hen her. Stronger then her even normally. Now that he was super-manned up it was doubtful that she would be able to out-muscle him. But he was jabbing with his left hand. And she was holding her combat knife in her right hand. In a defensive posture.

So as his punch came sailing in she would brace herself, go for the parry of the punch using her right hand. She knew that it was more then likely that she was still going to be hit in the face again. And it was going to be hard again. But if she gave this guy a nice long cut down his left wrist/forearm area then she would be able to survive with the situation.

And because his fist was still in motion it was most likely that his punch would be caught by the knife-parry and would continue on, carving up the arm while it was still punching.

And she would grit her teeth, knowing for a fact that she was going to be in pain from this one. Only hoping two things: That she didn't get hit so hard that she flew back and through the wall behind her. And that he did indeed have a couple of extra gashes in him from this encounter.

Bring on the pain.

A horn would sound in warning of the approach of the end of the match. The horn would be a bit of a surprise, and would emanate from a speaker over either side of the field.

Sixteen.

[/LogicSave]

[Yusuke Urameshi] Wrote:

, his right fist curled at chest level, and his left foot being the forward to show the telegraph of the punch.

[Yusuke Urameshi] Wrote:

, as he drove his right fist forward at her stomach,

This would be the one reason that Abigail didn't go soaring as was apparently expected. His chest level was significantly higher then her gut level. Not just because chest higher then gut. Their heights would be accountable towards this as well.

Later for that, though.

As she watched the approaching jab be properly deflected by her blade she would watch the knife sink into his skin as he began to launch his downwards attack. She didn't like the looks but it was impossible to dodge. So she did as much as she could.

She would tighten up her gut. She would hold her teeth even more clenched. She would be ready to impact the wall behind her. And of course she would move closer to his left arm. So that as it was retracting she could add a bit more pressure to the cut that she was going to give him. So: If he retracted his left arm from the jab then he would have it get cut up even more by her knife. And if he left it extended while he punched out with his right...

[/Dramatic pause... again]

She would feel the impact of the 'Spirit Wave' even before his fist touched her gut. This would be his chaos energy collapsing in on her in his form of a punch. She would go sailing to her right, his left, not able to comprehend for the moment what was happening. She was in pain. She was moving very quickly. But she couldn't connect this with the punch to the gut.

One might be wondering (not her but... someone) why she would go flying to the side like that. Well, her step in would mean that he was hitting her not in the center of the gut, but more to her left side. Closer to the bottom of the ribs. All of which would be shattered by the way. So his punch would actually send her downwards and to her right. Not up up and away.

And as she was falling down and being sent back she would add that much more damage to his left arm (unless it got retracted and was already bleeding heavily). The force that he hit her with would be the force that she was gliding along his arm. With the knife's edge still sunk in his skin.

Seen somebody peel a potato?

This wouldn't be part of her worries as she first bounced off of the sand, leaving her knife where she landed. No longer able to hold onto it. And the bounce would absorb a lot of her momentum. Unfortunately it wouldn't be enough to stop her from slamming shoulder and back first into a wall. And then she would realize that she was inverted. This wasn't an active thought, rather that she thought everything looked funny.

And then she would fall, most comically on her head before rolling out onto her back, feet facing outwards, head still very close to the wall.

Her first instinct was to say 'Ow' but the fact that he had hit her where he had hit her meant that she was having trouble breathing in her left lung. She was still breathing. Just not as well as she would like to have been.

Her second reaction would actually occur.

That was to roll her head to the side and vomit.

Blunt trauma to the gut area can do that. And so can head injury. Such as being sent head first into a wall.

But she was still awake... to an extent. She understood that she was looking at the sky. She wasn't sure how she wound up like this. She knew that she had been fighting somebody, but hadn't had the foggiest idea as to what had happened to him.

Hopefully he would bleed out soon.

[/Whitenoise]

The cheers of the crowd would be thunderous, though she heard it as nothing more than static. They were cheering on their victor. Their champion. The fan favorite had won.

And above it all would be the announcement that the fight was over.

Seventeen.

Dawn

After having stepped out for a few hours to deal with 'business' at the Crimson Hawk Hotel, Joshua returned to the Heaven or Hell Square.

On his way in he flipped a little tab on the sign for challenge matches.

The Reaper is [IN]

themightyjello Wrote:

Dawn

After having stepped out for a few hours to deal with 'business' at the Crimson Hawk Hotel, Joshua returned to the Heaven or Hell Square.

On his way in he flipped a little tab on the sign for challenge matches.

The Reaper is [IN]

A young woman had set up camp near that little tab. Captain of Team Reject, a band of jovial dreamers that was kicked off fame's pedestal before they even set foot on it. She was there at the moment, white beanie on her orange hair, black words on her white beanie. A simple sporty bikini top, surfer short; a getup for warm weather, perfect for someone craving the heat of a fierce battle, and craving she was!

It was thus no surprise that as soon as the tab was lifted, Bubbles started up from her lawn chair with a start, ready for some 'business' of her own.

"Hey! Oh, hey, you! Sir! You take challenges?"

Patrick Laforte Wrote:

It was thus no surprise that as soon as the tab was lifted, Bubbles started up from her lawn chair with a start, ready for some 'business' of her own.

"Hey! Oh, hey, you! Sir! You take challenges?"

"Only if they're serious."

Joshua turned his head but not his body when he responded; leaving his hands in the pockets of those shredded jeans he was wearing and merely looking over his shoulder at the woman who had decided she wanted to play in the big leagues.

"So," he said with a sniff of the air, "are you that eager to get hurt?"

Joshua laughed at the woman, then turned a cold shoulder to her and walked into the ring. Whether she followed close or far behind was her own prerogative but since the challenge had been issued there was no reason for him to decline... after all, she had been warned and stubbornly persisted. However it is only idiots that make shameless boasts without respect for their opponent or gauging an adversary's ability.

Either the woman was a genuine idiot or she had just never had manners beaten into her.

"Talking isn't going to make this go any less badly for you."

Of course, respect had to be earned. Especially when it isn't given in kind. The woman had decided to start with a boastful statement so it was up to him to show her just how much of a mistake it was to challenge him with that kind of mindset.

Joshua, the Reaper, folded his hands behind his head and began a simple set of stretches by wrenching his neck from one side to the other and flexing his arms, sides, back, and other muscles to put tension on them.

"Go ahead whenever you're ready."

He just tossed it out there.

The woman seemed to like the invitation she had gotten, seeing that she so willingly accepted it after a moment of thought. So far she hadn't done anything idiotic or overly boastful again, but time would tell with that as it did with so many other things. At the sight of Bubbles rushing forward on the offensive without any hesitation Joshua couldn't help but to crack the slightest smile... that is until she stopped short in a tentative stance that lacked heart but shouted caution.

At the very least he counted her eagerness to fight in her favor, even if she thought she would be able to gauge him while still holding back.

Joshua leaned to the left, turning his torso to the right with only the smallest bit of movement in his right leg; pivoting slightly on the ball of the foot as he raised the heel slightly and shifted the majority of the weight onto his left side. The shift in angle and location of the target when Bubbles threw her first testing jab of the encounter caused it to go wide from the target; only brushing lightly against his chest with the inside of her wrist as the jab executed.

And Joshua... groaned?

Hands still clasped at the back of his head all he had done was turn at the waist and lean a little bit to the side. He wasn't quite done stretching yet, after all.

If he could have said anything at all resembling the fact that he was fond of that shirt and he wished she wouldn't do things like that it might have been said... but he wasn't fond of the shirt at all. It was one just like hundreds of others he had gone through and had shredded or ripped or punctured or burned over the course of a battle and he had long since passed the point of caring whether or not a trash rag like that got a little bit mangled in the process.

However, as he took another deep breath after groaning he found that the woman had grabbed onto his shirt and was tugging at him. Well, as all things go the path of least resistance from time to time he saw no need to fight it and stepped behind with his left foot; taking the opportunity to stretch in the other direction as he did so; and lowered his right heel back to the ground before dragging it a few inches further along on the path he had taken. More or less he had simply accepted the invitation to stand at the lady's side with a shuffle of his feet.

"Tha- aa- CRACK!"

Joshua cranked his neck sharply to the right with a tilt of the head that issued forth a crack from the joint; the same action causing the meteor punch that was flying for his nose to skim past the side of his head instead.

"...aaat's a little annoying. Cut it out."

And he stepped behind his left leg with his right. Twisting his body clockwise to go along with the motion Joshua wrenched his shoulders, torso, and waist to the right and... well, with Bubbles' punch missing his head to the side like that her fist had flown right through the gap between his shoulder and the arm that was bent up in a bow with his hands behind his head. The sudden twist pressed the back of his head against the woman's forearm after she threw the punch but that was only to brace the limb; the real pressure came when the inside of the man's bicep cracked down on the woman's elbow joint as he turned and applied an amount of force directly related to just how unwilling she was to move with the sudden resistance.

If she found herself 'going with the flow' one way or another at the end of the movement she would be bent over with her shoulder twisted backwards and her arm in a very inconvenient spot.

Joshua, of course, scratched the back of his neck since his hand was already there.

Admittingly the ground got a whole lot closer than it should have considering the way that they were standing. There had been a loud crack that immediately preceded it, but there was no sound made at all and it was only the 'feeling' of the sound that hit Joshua suddenly before his grip on Bubbles' arm went slack and he fell forward onto the ground.

'It makes sense.'

Before he even had time to settle properly Joshua's fists were snapped to the ground beside his shoulders and his knuckles dug into the earth; looking as if he had simply bounced up from the ground he had fallen and in the next instant he was up on his hands and toes again.

'What does he call that stuff? STEEL MAGIC?'

The thought of Maximos' own peculiar name for technology was oddly the first thing that came to mind when he realized what had happened in that moment. He hadn't smelled any magic on the woman from the start, but her arm hadn't felt right at all when he touched it; nothing like flesh and bone should feel no matter how well trained the muscles are. The woman had one trick, and probably more up her sleeve thanks to that modern-day magic known as science.

It was a laughable thing in any age to confuse power with skill though.

"Sorry, I didn't catch that last one."

...and if he hadn't been getting to his feet?

Joshua started to get up and-

Didn't.

With his hands planted on the ground and himself up on the balls of his feet, there was no reason to be hasty in standing up when an opponent was right there. If he had decided to get to his feet immediately after going to the ground he would have been impatient, unobservant, and... orthodox. It's only to be expected that a person would attempt to follow-through with an attack in that position and he was, after all, still just warming up.

If Bubbles thought that he was getting up and threw a kick that was something that she would do. If not, Joshua would continue, doing five push-ups on the ground to continue his warm-up.

Liege walked through the square, his hands in his pockets and a calm expression on his face.

He was a man of medium height, and a lean muscular build. His body was dressed in black leather, and the collar at his neck was riddled with black, soft hairs. His own hair, stark white in comparison, was styled to cup around the sides of his face then launch back to give him the look of being constantly windswept.

He wore lean glasses, and fingerless gloves. His legs were covered in grey faded jeans and he had thin boots on underneath them which crunched on the sand as, after walking for a bit around the concession stands, Liege spotted a lone fighter in the Square.

"Hey." The man said in a slow, deliberate voice.

"Not quite." The man said, flashing a white smile.

To accentuate this point, the man slid his left hand into his right sleeve and pulled. With a metallic click, a silver blade snapped out over the man's knuckles. He repeated this process on the other arm to produce two identical punching daggers.

"What's your name?" He asked, twisting his left foot into a flat hold in the sand, "I'm Liege." He wasn't looking so much at the man as looking down at his legs, which seemed to be a bit thicker then the rest of his body, and at certain parts showed muscular strains against the jeans.

If they weren't inhuman, they at least bordered on it. Not in physical appearance, though. They just did appear as though he did a lot of squats. But he was classified as an advanced human. His physical muscle-power was just past the Olympian level, and he could even manifest a metaphysical ability. Or so it seemed.

The speed at which he ran at Isaiah was not anything more then the product of hard work, but you couldn't tell by watching him. The man kicked up waved of dirt with each footfall, leaving a trail of sandy dust behind him as he sped at his opponent, curving slightly to the right and extending his left arm out to strike Isaiah's left kidney as he passed the man. His free hand was held relatively close to his chest, ready to defend him if necessary.

[1]

Knock

It wasn't a hard strike, Liege hadn't even noticed he'd been hit until he leaned in the opposite direction ten feet later and slid to a stop. When he did however, he raised his hand to the back of his head and laughed to himself.

He didn't have to say anything, his smile revealed it all. There was now, in Liege's mind, a respect between the two men. An initial attack was like a hand extended in friendship. If the opponent responded in a respectable matter, then both parties could relax and understand that this was going to be a proper fight. By tapping him on the back of the head, Isaiah had said "hey, I can take you", even if he didn't intend to.

Hell, the guy probably thought he'd just had a knee-jerk reaction. That didn't stop it from meaning something to Liege.

As the cloud of sand spiraled back away from his figure and settled on the ground, Liege was struck with inspiration. There was an inherent weakness in his speed- he couldn't stop on a dime. He slid like crazy. However as he did so, he left a cloud of obscuring sand-dust behind him.

And with his one ability, he could use it to his advantage.

Liege leaned his upper body down, posing like a runner about to sprint (And look at that, he was...). With a mighty kick that sent a cloud of sand coiling up behind him, the man blasted towards Isaiah again, this time charging straight for him, his arms pumping through his run until he got close enough to be struck. One hand, his left, would be held up to defend against any sword strike, while the other was, once more, pointed forward to javelin his opponent in the direct center of his chest.

[2]

To execute a move like Liege's javelin and not be counter-attacked every single time, the man had to develop high level reflexes, and he had. It was safe to say that he now chose not to react in any seemingly intelligent manner and instead let his right arm sail over the crouched body of his opponent, while the lower half of him was picked up and hurled. It wouldn't be quite as pretty as Isaiah would have hoped, and he would suffer from two potential points of damage.

The first was collision. Even bending low couldn't protect him fully from having to make equally powerful contact with a lightning-fast charging opponent. However due to the intelligence of his counter-strategy this damage would be far more minimal then if, say, he'd tried to just dig his heels in and take it.

The second, and more important point where he could be damaged occurred as Liege was thrown over Isaiah's back, and extended his right, previously defending arm. To the onlookers from above it would seem only as if the fast character had been tossed over his opponent's back like a child. What they might notice after the dust settled (if it hit) was that Liege's defending arm had stopped defending and had been pushed into Isaiah's back, at which time Liege had attempted to maintain contact between the skin on the man's back (just to the left of his spine, Liege had no intention of making any cripples today) and his punching dagger. If it was successful, there would be a fairly grievous gash parallel to the man's spine that spanned most of his upper back.

After this exchange, Liege would sprawl away from Isaiah and roll on the ground before mounting himself on one knee, one hand clutching his torso as he attempted to catch his breath. If nothing else, the jab and the toss had knocked the wind out of him and given him a few minor sand-burns. This was actually quite important, as Liege had fully intended to make another pass, though found himself forced to recover instead.

[3]

Liege's eyes widened significantly at the expression of heat that washed over him. People in the crowd flinched at it, and the sand sizzled underneath the silver haired fighter. It didn't take Liege long to assess the situation, and his prospects looked dim.

There was no out-running raw heat.

If he'd just unleashed a monster, it was one he wasn't sure he could handle. Still, that was no excuse. In a fight, hesitation was synonymous would defeat. He had to keep charging forward, and he had to hope in the end he would be the stronger.

There was just no other way.

Standing up after catching his breath, Liege's punching daggers both began to glow white. It wasn't heat, but elemental energy.

Weapon Imbue: White Wind Wrote:

The imbue is the standard elemental attack, in which a strike is augmented with elemental energy to deal extra damage.

Weapon Imbue specifically imbues damage the user's weapons deal, and Liege's adds spiraling white winds that inflict many smaller cuts around the attacked area after the initial cut of his punching dagger hits.

A Weapon Imbue is expended after usage, and Liege can use an unlimited amount.

After the imbue had been established Liege once more bolted towards Isaiah. Careful not to be tossed again, the man began to stop about ten feet before hitting Isaiah, and lowered his upper body, slamming his punching daggers into the ground. The imbues on his hands released, and their spinning energy tossed up double the amount of sand. By the time Liege stopped he was mere feet from Isaiah, and they were both engulfed in a massive cloud of obscuring sand. As this was happening, and his imbues expended, he would raise his punching dagger into a defensive position above his head and crouched body.

If he hadn't been engaged at this point, Liege would do his best to immediately hop backwards and out of his opponent's immediate striking range.

[4]

Complaints from on high fell on deaf ears as Liege hopped back and away from his opponent.

This was the perfect situation for his major ability. Perfect perfect perfect.

Area Imbue: Eye of the Storm Wrote:

The Area Imbue is the most advanced of the imbue attacks, and is usually an elemental ability spread over a sizable area.

The Eye of the Storm imbue, unlike most, deals no damage over the area of its effect, but instead grants the user a form of perfect vision in the area, which is focused on and moves with them. In the Eye of the Storm Liege can feel everything around him, revealing anything that takes up space, as this displaces air, and the ability is derived from feeling all the air in its area of effect.

This ability helps him fight against multiple opponents, prevents sneak attacks, and gives him a massive boost to his coordination, as he can literally feel his opponent's movements as they happen. The ability also gives him blind-sight in its area of effect, which extends for twenty feet from him in all directions.

Liege closed his eyes. He could see everything. He could feel every grain of sand as it spun in the air, he could see Isaiah's look of surprise, could tell the position of his sword, of his feet and of his hands. He could feel everything around him, though only could feel the heat by his tactile sense. Heat took up no space, displaced no wind, and so was invisible to his sight.

Not that he needed special vision to know it was there.

With this established, Liege bolted once more at Isaiah, and if the man couldn't see, his only warning would be the quick pounding of feet against sand. Another javelin attack, aimed at his sword arm. Whether it hit or missed, Liege would try to pass by him and slide to a stop about ten feet away.

[5]

In fairness, the strike would have been aimed close to the wrist to make him drop his sword and so would have hit the leather and metal.

But as he slid to a stop, even his Eye of the Storm vision would notice the outpouring of the heat, if only in the subtle shift of the air. Heat itself couldn't move the air around him, and so he was still in Liege's sight, but the outwards movement of heat was likely accompanied by a bit of push (Energy expression from the body often did this) of air.

[size=12]In fairness, the strike would have been aimed close to the wrist to make him drop his sword and so would have hit the leather and metal.

But as he slid to a stop, even his Eye of the Storm vision would notice the outpouring of the heat, if only in the subtle shift of the air. Heat itself couldn't move the air around him, and so he was still in Liege's sight, but the outwards movement of heat was likely accompanied by a bit of push (Energy expression from the body often did this) of air.

What really struck Liege was the raw strength of the warmth being exuded from Isaiah's body. 150 degrees was hot, and Liege was seriously considering taking this fight to a range-level. He only had one range ability (Ranged Imbue) which was his weakest attack (He much preferred to use hand to hand styles) and he didn't want to have to rely on it at this stage.

He sighed. It didn't look like he had much of a choice.

He raised his right arm, holding its wrist with his left and released his

Ranged Imbue: White Winds Wrote:

The Ranged Imbue is just as it sounds: a hand/weapon imbue launched to strike at a distance.

The White Winds Ranged Imbue is a white, loosely spherical bit of energy that fires at an opponent and explodes on contact, leaving many small cuts in its wake.

Liege's ranged imbue is weaker than his hand/weapon imbue, and so deals less overall damage, capping at about 5 cuts, rather than the hand/ weapon imbue's 10.

The small orb flew at Isaiah's face. While the attack did less damage then his other's aiming cuts at the face had the chance of impairing the most senses in the smallest space. The effect of the ranged imbue wasn't much larger then a human head anyway, making it the perfect target.

[6]

The sand cloud, as Isaiah made his charge, would be dispersed enough to the point where even normal vision could see about teen feet around itself in any direction. Normally, this would put Liege just out of Isaiah's range of vision, but as he would note, the man seemed to find him just fine.

The sudden plummet in temperature would startle the wind elemental, but not as much as Isaiah's newfound sense of direction. There was no time to consider the "how", Liege could only match his opponent. In a weapon on weapon competition, Liege had the advantage of being less injured, and hoped to use it to his advantage. If he could possibly get around to the man's back, he could inflict more damage on his previous cut.

Liege leaned forward again and sped at the swordsman, Weapon Imbuing both of his daggers as he did so, and performing his now quite standard javelin strike. Left arm outstretched to strike Isaiah's chest, with right hand near the chest to block.

[7]

Liege would hiss as the blade struck his right shoulder. The wound hissed with him. The smell of burning flesh spread from the cut. In the end, Liege had saved himself from being impaled through the shoulder with a quick shift of his upper body to the right after his javelin had been deflected, but had still been cut. Had Liege been going for a pass, he would have collided with Isaiah, but he was slow enough to stop himself.

His right arm instinctively swept over his chest and out, punching dagger clashing against red hot steel to push it off of his cauterized wound and to Isaiah's left. Upon impact, the charged imbue in the weapon ejected uselessly, and amidst the sounds of razor winds slicing against solid metal Liege pulled back his left arm and attempted to hook the swordsman across the face with his remaining imbued dagger.

[8]

[ Vansin. Fancy seeing you here. ]

Chance stepped under the slowly rising wrought iron gates, into the blood soaked earth of the second pit.

An' instead, he waltzed out of the arena, skipping as he went, dropping daisy's with each step. For the lulz.

[ Being so close to round 4, I'd rather not get carded. Sorry. ]

And if the swordsman remained off guard, he might nearly be decapitated by the flash of metal just to his right.

Even if he didn't dodge, the blade stopped before it'd actually hurt him, along with a rather familiar chuckle as the weapon was pulled back.

"Nice to see you here.... Avan" came the cocky voice Snow would know so well at this point. The figure was grinning however, as he looked at the swordsman.

His (former) team Captain stood there, with a massive nodachi laying across his shoulder, casually held onto by his right hand.

"You need to stay frosty at all times". Yay cheesy pun.

James seemed different today. Was it the aura of calm that came off him like a gentle spring breeze? Or was it the fact that inplace of his usual cocky jacket and cool outfit was something designed more for war. His gauntlet was still on his right hand, as was the reinforced fingerless glove on the other, but the rest of his outfit resembled that of a fantasy, elegant, well-designed, and it seemed like he was a presence that belonged above the clouds.

Curved shoulder armor decorated his left side, fluted outward, and a delicate in-looks-only armored skirt was worn about his legs. Light, and flexible, both pieces of armor seemed fit to present maximum mobility while giving him fairly decent protection. Atleast, they also made him look extremely handsome, especially with the rest of the white and blue outfit, a special embroidered vest, shirt and jeans.

He lifted a finger up to tip up his crystaline blue shades.

"You know what I'm here for. Ready Snow?" he asked, backing away a few steps, before bringing his nodachi before him with both hands, the flower-printed blade forged obviously for war despite its beauty.

Isaiah hit the ground hard.

He was tired, the sword fell from his hands to the dirt. Slowly, the air started the return to normal temperature, it wasn't so cold any more. Isaiah was dazed.

What was going on? Liege was...behind him? Isaiah looked up from on his back. Above him?

Then he realized he was on the ground. Pain in his back, pain on his face, vision blurred by blood, his left eye seemed clotted up or something, it was harder to see on that side than his right.

With the status check done, Isaiah would roll over, grabbing with his right hand at Liege. Foot, pant leg, leg itself? What would he grab? He was blindly groping.

His hand would be deathly cold in any case, Isaiah absorbing any ambient heat in the air and more importantly, Liege's body heat if he managed to grab a hold of him.

[10/17]

As stated earlier, Isaiah was tired. His grip really wasn't that tight, so Liege's kicks and HADOUKEN! Ranged Imbue succeeded in knocking his hand loose.

...Ah well.

Isaiah just rolled right back onto his...back, despite the pain, and lay there. That wound in his back had served to take most of the fight out of his arms and he'd decided it was better to just...lay here for a while.

[11/17 - Fight End?]

A minute?

"Give me..." Isaiah groaned, rolled over, and pushed himself up and stood. "...a second."

Enough with the toys, Isaiah kicked his sword away, and raised his fists, swaying to and fro. He was bouncing lightly on his feet, but in his state, it was more like shifting his weight back and forth between his left foot and his right.

His left side was presented, the left hand held out like he was pointing at Liege, only the fist was loosely clenched. His right fists stayed near the center of his chest.

"...Now I'm ready."

[12/17]

Isaiah looked at his options:

-Shuffle step, Cost: Half-Action

-Throw Jab, Cost: Quarter-Action

-Straight Punch/Hook/Uppercut, Cost: Full Action

...******** that, he exceeded stupid tabletop limits.

Isaiah stepped forward, keeping his left arm out front. In theory, it was supposed to act as a guard, keeping Liege at bay and away from Isaiah's torso. The swordsman without a sword didn't think that theory would pan out so well, but he'd try anyway.

Goal, get in close to Liege, feint with a left jab then step in for a right upper cut. Quickly step back out and away if he connects, or misses.

[13/17]

But lo! And the offender did step forth, bearing glorious glowing fists of-

WHAM

His vision blurred; Isaiah swore he felt his brain bounce around a little. Apart from that, there was the explosion of elemental energy, cutting up his face like so much...uh, cut-up...face. Was that a piece of his nose flying off screen there?

"Guah!" Isaiah snapped his head back, his foot rose and stepped back...

...only to be brought forward once more as Isaiah grabbed onto Liege's clothes and snapping his head forward right into Liege's own.

He had a hard head indeed.

[14/17]

KA-BLAM

This fight almost made you think of those comic books with the illustrated sound effects.

Liege connected; There wasn't much room for error this close together anyways. But Isaiah wasn't done.

Sure, he was seeing stars. He didn't know where Liege was, only that his fist tightened on a scrap of cloth, and he slammed his forehead forward again, this time a bit lower.

His eyes were wild and he had a crazy grin on his face. Also, the air around them was starting to heat up...

[15/17]

What picture indeed! This was a fight!

SMACK

By now, Isaiah barely felt any pain in his face, it was all a sort of burning numbness. And swelling, can't forget the swelling.

CRACK! THUD

There was an audible crackling sound as Isaiah's collarbone fractured. It didn't break cleanly in one hit, which only added to the pain, sending Isaiah to his knees.

Quote: Could someone turn down the thermostat?

Hell no! In fact, with that collarbone strike, it only seemed to increase! The arena was a ******** desert!

Quote: That was a yamika, wasn't it?!

I don't ******** know!

Isaiah was pushing up with his knees, getting to his feet, but grabbing Liege's legs in the process. His back ached and protested, fresh bleeding began anew, and Isaiah attempted to lift Liege into the air and slam him into the ground.

No more mucking around!

[16/17]

There certainly was still face to cut, though now Isaiah's face resembled something akin to a plate of spaghetti, without the meatballs and a lot more red sauce thrown on for good measure.

WHUD

They hit the ground, Isaiah started chuckling, the air was still heating up.

It was almost as if he were trying to fry both him and Liege, or was it really just his body's reaction to all the trauma and lack of total control?

Like Liege, it was the latter.

Liege would stand up, Isaiah would stagger upright, his left hand held outwards. The air visibly swirled in his palm, a red, gaseous form of it anyways.

"Hahaha...heh." His laughter was interrupted by a coughing fit and blood splattered across the floor. Heat poured forth from Isaiah like someone had just opened a furnace door.

"What.....fun."

He took a step forward, tottering.

"Ignition..."

Another step. His arm came swinging around, the palm pointed at Liege.

"...BREAAAAAAK!"

There was a blast of hot air from his palm, but surprisingly, it was not a forward attack but an outward pulse, like an expanding ring, the bottom part melting the sand at Isaiah's feet and the rest shooting harmlessly into the air. One of the crowd members could have sworn he saw flames.

However, the kickback was tremendous. Isaiah was blasted off his feet, flying backwards until he smacked into the pit wall. His head slammed into the concrete, and he slid to the ground.

Apparently, whatever he had been trying to pull hadn't gone off so well.

Isaiah was out cold and the air temperature slowly returned to normal once more.

[17/17]

Fierach Wrote:

And if the swordsman remained off guard, he might nearly be decapitated by the flash of metal just to his right.

Even if he didn't dodge, the blade stopped before it'd actually hurt him, along with a rather familiar chuckle as the weapon was pulled back.

"Nice to see you here.... Avan" came the cocky voice Snow would know so well at this point. The figure was grinning however, as he looked at the swordsman.

His (former) team Captain stood there, with a massive nodachi laying across his shoulder, casually held onto by his right hand.

"You need to stay frosty at all times". Yay cheesy pun.

James seemed different today. Was it the aura of calm that came off him like a gentle spring breeze? Or was it the fact that inplace of his usual cocky jacket and cool outfit was something designed more for war. His gauntlet was still on his right hand, as was the reinforced fingerless glove on the other, but the rest of his outfit resembled that of a fantasy, elegant, well-designed, and it seemed like he was a presence that belonged above the clouds.

Curved shoulder armor decorated his left side, fluted outward, and a delicate in-looks-only armored skirt was worn about his legs. Light, and flexible, both pieces of armor seemed fit to present maximum mobility while giving him fairly decent protection. Atleast, they also made him look extremely handsome, especially with the rest of the white and blue outfit, a special embroidered vest, shirt and jeans.

He lifted a finger up to tip up his crystaline blue shades.

"You know what I'm here for. Ready Snow?" he asked, backing away a few steps, before bringing his nodachi before him with both hands, the flower-printed blade forged obviously for war despite its beauty.

While depressed, the swordsman was thankfully experienced enough in his abilities to sense danger when close. Immediately leaning to his own respective left and bringing his right hand up to intercept a possible weapon coming towards his head, which he immediately noticed by a glint from the corner of his eyes...

The immediate voice that changed the expression on the swordsman's face was none other than his former team Captain, James. He turned around while he got up, giving a profused sigh before eyeing the extravagant attire which the captain was adorning himself with.

A flair of brilliant colors and armor that reeks full of...well, expensive items.

Damn rich b*****d.

He patted the bottom part of his cloak, brushing off some bits of dirt and eyeing his own - somewhat tattered garments. "Well, if you're planning what I'm planning..." He mentioned, reaching over to unsheath the blade on his right hip, and brandishing it on his right hand, "Then..."

Not unsheathing his other blade that was slung on his left hip, the swordsman held his katana with both weapons, flipping the blade around so that only the dull edge of his weapon is facing towards James' presence. Taking a few more steps back before shifting his stance so that he went into a typical kendo stance (blade held in front of him with both hands), it took only one moment for the swordsman to mutter the start of this fight;

"Let's go."

• Before dashing off in a charge right towards James, heading straight for the Nodachi in a blind, suicidal way. If James remained consistent in pointing the Nodachi towards the swordsman, then the swordsman has his own way of responding. But if not...

The eyes were fixated onto the weapon, as well as on James' form. Using his own experience in weapon combat, the swordsman had intentionally placd his blade in front of him - as a rough method of a measuring stick. Never having fought anyone that wielded a weapon longer than a spear staff, he had to take an approximate measurement of how long the nodachi's weapon range is.

If he miscalculated or made a mistake, that weapon range might prove to be the achilles heel that can throw the swordsman into an immediate disadvantage.

Closing the distance between the two, the swordsman wasn't surprised much that James decided to keep the blade in front of him - wanting the swordsman to get closer and impale himself through the nodachi.

Tilting the tip of his weapon a bit, once he saw the nodachi careening straight towards his chest suddenly in a stab, the swordsman immediately batted it aside with his katana - parrying the kodachi to his own right, and sliding his katana sword up the length of James' weapon as he further decreased the distance between the two. This kept the nodachi from closing in to the swordsman's right side, since the swordsman would keep a consistent force against the weapon to restrain its movements to some extent.

For how much he could limit James' nodachi is beyond his concern right now.

One, two, three...

Things are going to get tricky really soon, but this move should work in catching James off guard.

As soon as he got close enough to James' tsuba guard with his own weapon range, the swordsman would attempt to disarm his former captain in quick timing.

First, by stomping down hard on his left foot - building up his momentum for a strong blow, forcing his blade to hop away from the Nodachi for a short second - before he would then twist his torso somewhat to the right to amplify the force behind his action, which would be flicked right towards James' left fingers in a smacking motion. Granted, the swordsman was using the dull edge of his blade - which didn't emphasize more on slicing through the object there, just more on blunt force impact towards the target area.

But the impact is more than enough to cause quite a lot of pain if it struck true at James' Nodachi handle, where the fingers are holding the weapon. More specifically, the left fingers, since they were closer to the tsuba guard than James' armored gauntlet.

And even if it missed, it still gave the swordsman some defense in keeping the blade to the side - and putting him in a posture for another attack/defense if need be.

• 2/17 -

• 3/17 -

Immediately his blade went careening towards his own right in an unexpected manner. Not having anticipated to the extent that James would actually devise some close-up counters, the swordsman was temporarily caught off guard, in the midst of his rush.

s**t!

He slacked his left hand a bit to ease up on his blades' new trajectory, his right hand keeping hold of the blade while the left hand dropped down to manage a meager defense in front of him. But knowing full well that he couldn't bring the katana back in time to do anything resourceful, the swordsman lowered his left hand even further during the action - towards his own left hip, twisting his upper body to the right as far as he could to parry as best as he could a direct blow that came straight towards his chest.

BAM!

His right side was immediately pushed further back than what his twist can do, the opposition's elbow+backhand impact barely glancing off of the swordsman's right chest. A surge of searing blunt pain followed suit from where the impact was negated to some extent, but at least it was better than the pain that he would've felt had the captain hit him dead center in the chest.

At the same time though -

The swordsman had a brief object careening right towards James' lower right ribcage in a smash, the hard pommel of his sheathed blade on his left hip...

Coming in to return the favor.

With full force, for a near-simultaneous exchange of shots.

He coughed from the impact, the face distorted in a brief grimace, already ignoring whether or not his attempted surprise attack would work. Since he aimed for somewhere low and level to his hips with the pommel of his left blade, where he could deliver a good amount of force, the clockwise twist he did magnified the amount of blunt damage he can deliver towards James' ribcage.

But his first priority was to deliver an equal, if not hopefully more damage to James' unguarded areas during the exchange, before backstepping a few steps away from James' right to gain some distance, and keep his right blade in a posture where he can give off a threatening presence.

For example, having the blade readied in a stabbing posture...

Who said the swordsman left himself nearly completely open for a final follow up?

Regardless if his pommel strike did hit or not, the swordsman was already in the mindset to retreat away from James' reach. So when the pommel strike did nothing but glance off on his captain's side, the swordsman was already then shuffling back a few steps, moving away from James right and preparing for a -

CLANG!

The nodachi rose up in a whipping motion to strike the swordsman's guts, but with the left blade...

The pommel strike instead turned to be an ulterior defense method as well, the half-unsheathed blade intercepting the nodachi and blocking its strike from fully striking the swordsman's guts. Extremely sharp or not from the Nodachi's swing, just placing the pommel there in front of the swordsman was more than enough to manage his defense, since it was already in front of him during the pommel strike.

He used that moment to recoil from the nodachi's heavy impact, increasing the distance between the two fighters - and getting the hell out of the nodachi's weapon range.

"Tsk."

By then, the swordsman was back at where he was in the start of the fight, dropping his left blade and letting it automatically sheath itself back into its scabbard.

Readying his right blade with both hands...

He took on another stance this time, lowering the tip of his blade down so that it was pointed towards the ground in front of him.

He needs to figure out a way to get through that guard...

• 4/17-

A moment of silence permeated the walls of the Square. People had come expecting a fight; instead, a 130-inch LCD TV with a spoiler on top and NOS duct-taped to the side was rolled out to the center of the arena, as well as a pair of gigantic speaker towers on either side. A booming voice assaulted people's ears. "Ladies and gentlemen! Before we begin the next fight, we'd like to treat you to a very special presentation from Heaven or Hell's very own Dash with his new song, 'Airship!'"

And with that, the big-a** TV flickered to life....

Legend of the Dragon King

Interlude

[Page 1 of 17]

Fox was standing around. Wearing a white Karate Gi with a white belt wrapped around his waist, holding the top. He was gloveless, but had hand wraps.

Having fought against James before, the swordsman knew roughly James' style of fighting - perhaps not enough to completely see through the opposition's tactics, but enough to make some rough predictions on how things turn out.

He knew for a fact that James was never a patient man - always taking things on the offensive and attacking under close quarter conditions. The swordsman can't really blame him though - with that fiery temper and hot headed attitude of his, it would be hard to NOT have an attitude like that during a fight, and even not during a fight.

The good thing about not unsheathing his blade completely out on his left, was that with a simple push downward, the blade automatically slides back into the scabbard without any additional help.

This saves valuable time, as well as gives the sworsman more chances to use his hand positioning when necessary.

The stance wasn't primarily a top-priority. All he needed was just his left hand open for use, so he can do this when he saw James aggressive rush;

Another clang echoed through the area as the swordsman brought his right blade down - grabbing hold of his own weapon with both hands and blocking another incoming slash/stab from James' Nodachi. Keeping the weapon parried on his right side yet again, he gave the edge of the nodachi a firm shove to the right, as if smacking it even further away than usual, before taking a small step to his respective left -

• His form taking on a slashing posture, implying an aim for...

James' legs. To be more precise, the knee/ankle section that was closest to his slashing range. Creating distance between the Nodachi and his weapon, the tip of the blade tilting backwards a bit which gave away a possible intention the swordsman is having.

But that might be a fluke, when the swordsman aimed higher and suddenly lashed out with a heavy blow, going for James' right hip instead, using the close distance both he and James shared as a crucial factor in hindering the Nodachi's limited maneuverability.

After all - the Nodachi is designed for long ranges. But coupled with James' close quarter combat experience...

He had to tread carefully even under the pressure the swordsman's feeling from his captain.

ragingtofu Wrote:

Among the chaos, excitement, and what was left of the truck's cargo, a single voice could be heard.

"Dra... gon...."

"Eh?"

Dash's glance fixated on the man falling from the sky with a fist full of fury. It was simply beautiful, a determined flame burning brightly in the darkness. It illuminated the path to his fate, his glory, his destiny.

rangingtofu Wrote:

"PUNCH!!"

A fiery fist of fury struck its target.

His eyes widened as he finally realized that this was not a good thing.

“OH s**t!!!”

He just stared as the one good engine was torn asunder by some crazy man and his crazy flame fist. The ship shuddered and began its decent at a more rapid pace. Fortunately, the designers of the craft weren't complete morons. It had very limited gliding ability, emphasis on limited. They'd have a couple minutes at most to get s**t done before smashing into whatever fate gravity had in store for them.

As for those bastards who abandoned ship, they'd be floating safely to the ground in their lifeboats. Each one sported a massive parachute.

ragingtofu Wrote:

"So, Dash. We meet again for the first time. I've been looking forward to this. Show me what you've got!"

“Okay…”

Dash paused and took another deep breath.

“Okay. First off, what is the deal with you scrubs always breakin’ my s**t!? I mean, a truck? C’MON! How did you even get one up-“ Dash stopped himself with a facepalm. “You know what? Don’t answer that! I’m so pissed off right now that I don’t even care!”

Dash became aglow with his raging green FITE ENERGY! Bolts of ki reticulated up his legs and around his torso, lashing out every few moments with a thunderous cackle. At a quick glance, it looked as if he was overcome with electrical currents, but that wasn’t the case. That was simply the manner in which Dash’s aura chose to manifest itself. His fists clenched tightly at his sides as he seethed with anger of losing yet another one of his vehicles, albeit this one rented and considerably more expensive.

Somewhere, in the midst of all the POWA APPU going on, the upper portion of Dash’s suit decided to just explode off his body, unable to contain the sheer awesomeness of the man’s aura. His body was covered with scars, a disturbing amount of them actually. Although each one had a different story, most of them began in the same manner: some scrub with a sharp object trying to kill him!

Now who was this green haired jerk standing before him (who Dash couldn’t help but feel he’d met before)?

“I just hope you know what you’re getting into, scrub. Here I don’t have to hold back for the sake of entertaining the drooling masses.”

[2]

Fierach Wrote:

Right, about that sentence break in there.

James stepped to his own left, matching Snow's movement and staying in sync as he recovered extremely quickly, thanks to the fact that he was using two hands on his nodachi as well, and slashed across Snow's chest, making contact with Avan's katana and parrying it away, preventing either fighter from really doing anything further.

He took another further step to his left, sliding his left hand over onto the back of his blade as he broug-

• 6/17 -

Being parried yet again, the swordsman had a tough time devising something that can actually land a blow on James, instead of being interrupted by unpredictable moves from the captain all the time. But changing due course since his initial attempt was thwarted - traces of cloth being torn near his right shoulder - his body was in another posture instead;

A posture that is meant for a right slash.

This time - the swordsman took his speed up another level, turning around to face James and suddenly dashing in, slashing his blade right at James' Nodachi yet again - close to where the tsuba guard may be located, and maintaining it there to restrict it. Keeping some force on it, the swordsman isn't planning on giving James a good offensive way of responding to it.

Because as soon as James lets off --

The swordsman's blade is in a position to take advantage of that.

7/17

Here's the problem though.

James doesn't seem to realize that the swordsman purposefully placed himself close to the Nodachi for some reasons. One, obviously, is to avoid a direct weapon strike that could cleave right through him without questions asked. The closer he is to the weapon, the safer he is from the destructive power of the Nodachi.

Which meant that when he attacked James' tsuba guard, the swordsman was close enough in his own weapon range to deliver that strike. This should've set off some warning or alarm for James to be aware of, because for one -

• intercepting the Nodachi close to the tsuba guard meant that the initial damage the swordsman would've taken is decreased dramatically, just because there's no length to amplify the force behind the swing.

Similar to intercepting a staff swing, the closer one intercepts to the main body, the lower the damage it is.

And the other reason, which was the main reason why the swordsman continued to keep himself in a dangerous position...

Is because, with James shoving his sword to his right - and with the swordsman's blade pointed towards James during his attack on the tsuba guard...

At the time James delivered the one-handed counter slash towards the swordsman's upper body, the swordsman had automatically allowed his arms to be positioned in a way that is definitely dangerous for James to be close under.

Using the force of the shove - which had thrown the swordsman's blade to his own respective right, the swordsman merely bent his left arm back in a rapier fashion - coiling his left blade in a readied format, keeping it pointed at James - the right hand releasing its hold from the weapon, and coming down in a defensive manner to protect against a possible slash.

It was a Nodachi after all, and stabs were definitely out of the question for the long range weapon at this distance.

The impact struck his right bracer with a harsh sound.

KATHUNK!

He could definitely feel a portion of the bracer armor being dented under the impact, but having intercepted it close to James' body had drastically decreased the strength behind it - and weakened it enough to be blocked with some effort on his part. It won't be pretty when he has to repair his armor, but as a result...

The swordsman immediately responded with a piercing stab, straight towards James' upper chest. Using his left hand in a horizontal rapier thrust, he has a great shot in thrusting past James' guard and right into that unguarded spot.

It was an over-the-top stab going downwards, which meant the stab would be occuring way above James' hand positioning, and passing over the Nodachi.

And at this distance with James so close?

It's going to be difficult to miss this shot.

"Wow, you got more hot air in you than a balloon!"

Rage stretched his left arm outward, and as if on command, one of the smaller propellers fell right into his hand, spinning around his wrist as Dash finished talking. It was poor etiquette to interrupt a monologue, after all.

"CUT!"

The look on the man's face fell. "Cid, I told you you should have let me write my own lines, that was awful." The screen in the arena went black for a moment and the speakers went dead. Meanwhile, a small team of people had formed around Rage on the deck of the airship. Rage, looking annoyed, sent all of them flying with a twirl of the propeller. Two or three fell off, but were fortunately wearing parachutes. "Yo, director... guy. You need to stay out of this!"

"But we're filming scenes for the next Rage V movie!"

"Fine! Just stay out of it, this is personal."

The TV in the square crackled back to life, with sound to match. Shaky camera angles could be seen flitting from Dash to Rage and back.

That was, until Rage jammed the propeller into the deck in front of him, and... struck a pose. Suddenly, the few remaining background dancers for Dash's video were doing the same! Rage snapped his fingers, and a microphone dropped into his hands.

"Ahem."

The speakers in the square were silent save for the sound of whipping wind for a moment. That was, until....

"My name's Axel, I'm the Dragon King, scrub

Ronin son with the Dragon Bling, bub

ALL like you with your

Team so fresh the best the rest or less to test are

re-tarded hoes

Got ejected, got a direct hit

(I mean, a truck?)

Judge yo' fight and no' mo' that's it

(I just hope you know what you're getting into)

Airship down you clown go round and round

To the end of the round it's over now!"

And with that, he chucked the microphone full-force at Dash's face.

[Page 3 of 17]

The pressure that Snow would be feeling wouldn't be just from the sheer rush of battle, James himself was giving off a nearly papable aura of dominace and power. Any ordinary man next to the martial artist right now would have felt as though he was being choked and suppressed by the subtle emanations from James's being.

And now, Snow was screwed, figuratively speaking. Although James's right hand went up above them after the hilt strike was blocked, the Eredas heir himself pushed forward. With a deft push and release, he let go of the katana in his other hand and let it fly past harmlessly.

Well, not quite. It may have struck James's armored overskirt though on its way down, but a glancing attack like that wouldn't penetrate the fine piece of equipment, so he stayed relatively safe and it was shrugged it off.

They'd have reached infighting range, where both user's weapons were almost completely ineffective, and the moment he did the little push and release trick, his bloody hand snapped in as a quick, backhand toward Snow's solar plexus, after which James'll push his advantage and pull the hand back for a more decisive blow while moving ever further into Snow's guard, the first merely intent on suprising and shocking the other swordsman by hitting a critical spot, and disrupting the man's ability to breathe and/or react as fast as he might like to.

8/17

Ultimately, it would be James who landed the next hit. Snow'll feel something catching him by the back of his neck sharply as James revealed yet another nasty trick. His right hand had went up and now came back down settling to the right of the swordsman's head (Snow's right) and pulled back, hooking his neck using the hilt of his nodachi.

Like a in pulley system, his chambered left hand shot forward as he pulled Snow toward him. The captain's legs rooted themselves, his body twisted, left side in, right side back.

The author would've put a picture here, but he couldn't find one yet that could describe how topsy turvy Snow's world was about to become, being hooked onto a gut-wrenching punch like that. As for the exchange of hits, the awkward positioning and James's pivot of his body meant Snow would only score a gash, albeit a deep one, along the right side of James's abdomen, in much the same way as the saber wound the fiery captain had suffered in his match against the lamia. Major price to pay, but it was worth it, and the captain had blood to spare. There were no immediately debilitating effects, and sharp hiss of pain later, James used his hook and his buried fist to roughly shove the manhandled swordsman to his right, so they'd almost be behind each other for a moment.

"Jama da" James growled through gritted teeth.

Translation: "You're in my way"

9/17

A few short seconds that Snow would never have.

If James was watching the fight from the sidelines, he would've yelled "Put up your guard you ******** idiot! Roll away! Press A! Jump gypsy, C'MON JUMP!"

But, James was the one fighting. In no way, was he going to let the other swordsman catch his breath and refocus that easily, even at the cost of his own health.

A tight twist and pivot of his body and feet to the other side meant that the scion of flames was hot on Avan's heels immediately, the other end, the pointed end, of James's blade was sailing in sideways at Snow, thanks to the length of the blade and the way the martial artist held it close to his body.

If Snow could detect that small exhale of breathe James did as he performed the motion, he'd know that the Eredas heir was still firmly in control of himself despite the pain, still reading the battle. It was a a sort of calm joy that was on James's face as he fought this man whom he acknowledged as, strong.

His rival.

It wouldn't even matter if the attack missed (which it likely would) whiffing the air infront of Snow. The true purpose was to use the momentum of his spin and the mass of his weapon and gauntleted arm (hard to miss after all) to completely smash the ice swordsman's fragile guard with raw force and leave him open for one final demostration of James's skill with his weapon and martial arts.

With a growl, the demonslayer lunged forward on his right leg, rooting himself and stopping his spin on a dime, and leaned forth, extending both arms, his left hand pushing on his right wrist. The result would be Snow having the end of the nodachi's hilt back-slammed into his gut in the same place where he had been struck just a little earlier.

This should send him stumbling back quite a bit, maybe even vomiting, and it'd be here that James ceased his furious assault and stepped back to allow Avan to catch a break.

"Whew"

..

"Come on Snow, is that all you got?" he taunted with a small, smirk

10/17

11/17

Pretentious son of a bi-

He couldn't figure out what came next when his guard was blasted aside by a heavy impact - a dazzling burst of fresh, raw pain flooding his already injured spot suddenly. His body recoiled under the blast before he stumbled back some steps - his blade then stabbed firmly into the ground to act as leverage and support as he gasped and coughed from the impact.

Ourgh...!

Good thing he didn't have any food since yesterday, his stomach churning up nothing but empty rasps of wheezing and coughing.

His legs buckled, causing the swordsman to collapse to his left knee as he held his ground, trying to get some air into his lungs and wash out the damage inflicted on him.

Eyes which have been calculative and wary before now revealed a new expression that occupied the swordsman's gaze;

Rage.

An intense wave of cold started to permeate out of the swordsman's body. Less of an actual killing intent and more of a massive drop of temperature around him, it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that the swordsman is taking this fight to the next level.

A real nasty level, when he stood back up to confront James, the blade still impaled into the ground shining brightly from the swordsman's influence.

12/17

Even in rage, the swordsman can't just give in to the relentless thought of going berserk at a man capable of wielding flames and negating his powers through those flames. Remembering the fights he had with James before, the swordsman doesn't have the intention of repeating the same mistakes he did, preparing the necessary actions that he would need to initiate the fight.

But to get things started...

The swordsman planted his right hand over the pommel of his blade, taking a deep breath to concentrate. Having the need to give up the initial possibility to attack to charge up his abilities, he plans on changing the tactics in how he uses his powers for use.

As far as he can recall, most of his ranged methods were failures if an absolute hit isn't guarranteed. Which meant, to make the attacks count, for this round...

The cold instantly reversed from its spread, coming back towards the swordsman's right hand in which three small pebbles colored in a dark, blue hue formed on the spot.

Chocked full of highly condensed water, and, a bit unstable to be honest.

No matter though. With a harsh smack of the first pebble onto the pommel of his katana, his blade radiated a brilliant shade of blue before fading away - a pale blue mist ebbing off of the sharp edge of his weapon, circulating around it.

It's not only James that has a new technique in store.

Under the swordsman's technique, which he has yet to give a name, all users with the ability of flames shall fall prey to what he has in store for them.

If James wants to make him hear the wind burn...

The swordsman yanked the blade out with his right hand, tucking one more pebble into his left bracer for storage. As for the last pebble...

He held it within his left palm, easing up on his stance and beginning his walk towards where James stood - cocky and still full of arrogance on his face.

"Come! I'll blast away whatever you throw at me!" The swordsman shouted, lowering his blade to point it at the ground - the cold front turning deathly chilly around him.

In the meantime, someone from somewhere else started to blare a song to compete against the music in the background.

13/17

The thing that the swordsman can observe and use for predicting how James will react, is simply how James wielded the blade. Fully aware that the captain is mixing powers along with his attacks for this round, a massive strike to the ground with that Nodachi is a definite tell-tale sign that something huge is amiss.

So, to combat against a massive action that hid its true nature under a stealthy veil, the swordsman raised his left hand and aimed the pebble towards a potential, incoming attack. Palm faced forward, it took only a second for the command to be given when the pebble exploded outwards in a spiraling action - the condensed water swirling and causing the air around its presence to pick up speed, before --

KSSSSSHHHHHK~!

The invisible heat wave came directly into contact with the water in front of the swordsman, the water quickly disippating the heat into the air around them and acting as a shield for the swordsman to wield. While some areas of the water was quickly extinguished from the heat, surprisingly it wasn't evaporating into the air - the swordsman using the water as a conductive element to absorb the heat...

Gather it...

And disperse the heat to areas that weren't around the swordsman.

This was a new method of defense, instead of pitting water against fire in a common, conventional mean. In normal cases, using water against fire without control means that any water used for defense is going to get wasted in the air by evaporation - meaning that it would also waste precious time and effort to recharge and regain the lost amount for another use.

So what happens if the swordsman condenses the tactic instead, and disallow the water to evaporate by keeping it confined within a location he desires? He'll use the water as a means to absorb the heat or the intensity of the flames - and spinning the water in a centrifugal manner, the swordsman would use the air around him to act as a cooling filter to disperse that heat quickly and efficiently...

Making it quite an effective manner in defending against flames that are within reasonable standards.

In a short notice, the technique of Mizuchi failed to throw the swordsman completely off, still taking the walk towards James before stopping a few meters outside of James' weapon range, the water in front of the swordsman starting to condense back into its pebble form again. Mist flowed from where some of the water was unfortunately lost, and as he closed the distance, he only took one simple glance at where James is -

Before slashing his blade forward almost without warning, having it impact the ground in front of him, followed by a loud, dull bang that caused the ground in front of the swordsman to shake and shudder...

Which nothing occured.

But.

At first glance it seemed that nothing happened from the swordsman slashing the blade down. But how the blade is angled acutely towards the ground, it took only some seconds for the effect to take place before the ground in front of the swordsman erupted with a deafening explosion.

Sharp rocks and moderately heavy debris were thrown up like projectiles, intended to slice and pommel James with blunt, yet sharp impacts. Ice immediately followed suit, and if one is careful enough to observe the ground prior to the explosion - the ice perfectly reveals the secret behind this new method of attack.

Using condensed water and firing it out like a beam from his blade, the swordsman shot the beam directly into the ground at an angle, the high pressure and its high piercing ability digging through meters and meters of the ground before it lost its constriction - leaving the water no way to release but throughout its immediate surroundings. Of course the swordsman would keep the water from backfiring towards himself with his powers, but anything in the general direction of where the ground erupts is highly susceptible of being hit by the flown debris of varying sizes - many small and heavy fragments as well with ice forming on it - making it a good method to fight against fire users in general.

The swordsman would then, by that time, pull his blade out of the ground and plan to use his recharged pebble to smash it into the pommel of his hilt again - reloading the shot discreetly into his blade for another power-shot.

His last pebble that is in his bracer would not be used.

Yet.

14/17

It's a hefty problem, this move of his. Even if it may be strong in a directional attack, James revealed some flaws in the swordsman's attack pattern when he vaulted over the explosion, the dress and the gesture in which he flew being very clear to the swordsman's gaze.

But-

Fierach Wrote:

Like a rocket, he exploded forth, taking one step, before gracefully vaulting himself into the air on his next stride, twisting in the air clear w-

The swordsman took advantage of James being in the air to experiment with another attack. Having recharged his pebble used for defense a post ago, he simply changed his initial idea in reloading the energy on his blade. Instead, he simply flicked the pebble upwards directly above his own head, the tiny, dark blue object seeming harmless like last time --

Until it exploded out like a fire hose going off, delivering a heavy impact force that is more than enough to send any heavyweight people flying backwards from the strength of it. Fanning out like a directional claymore, the power was directed away from the swordsman's main body and in an acute cone of release towards James' airborne body - the idea to throw James right back to the shards of debris and ice on the ground behind him. As it is designed to take people down at close range - since the swordsman's weakness has almost always been against people who rush or get too close for comfort, this was a new move he had developed since the fight against a brute recently. Since sharp objects and attacks do nothing to nill against extraordinarily armored - and/or heavy - people, then direct blunt force should do the trick.

People who are lighter than heavyweight brutes should have more problems with this move than usual. And with James in the air - well, it will be hard dodging this one.

The swordsman doesn't plan to stick still at the same spot for long though, even if the move may prove to be successful. It's still in the experimental stages, and just like how James revealed the flaw in his last attack - there may be some flaws which the swordsman has yet to realize for an attack designed to knock down brutes with an more-than-overwhelming brute impact.

An ironic contrast to James' use of brute force.

His weight will be shifting back and forth on his legs in varying rhythms, the swordsman showing signs of either retreating or maneuvering his position if things went wrong here.

Because, for all he knew, James might have some way of cutting through that surprise interception of his...

15/17

Burning steam is serious business. But having control over the qualities of the water gave the swordsman the uncanny ability in keeping the steam away from his own body. Due to how the flames were merciless in its endeavor to burn the ******** out of the swordsman's body -

He might just have to be a bit relieved that he'd at least negated the fire from the skies.

Well. There's still that very hot front that washed over him - heated air which escaped from the absorbing qualities of his water which dispersed around his position.

Damn heat.

"Tsk", The swordsman expressed in a bit of distaste when he heard the audible 'plop' of James landing behind him. Assuming that a follow-up attack would occur because of James' aggressive nature, it seemed the swordsman is going to be at a disadvantage; his back being revealed once again in a defenseless manner.

Or is it? The swordsman's bag of tricks is far from being depleted, and with water dispersed throughout the area around him - it might be worth considering the strange question of why the swordsman isn't feeling pressured yet; large amounts of his own magic flowing along with the gaseous water and allowing him to use it in another manner - a detection method, if one would like to quote it that way.

It's a technique that he uses sparingly - since the only times he uses it is when he's fighting against someone who's stealthy, or those hidden somewhere in the arena. After all, his back is never presented to those that used stealth as their fighting style.

In this case...well, it also works as a way to detect those behind his back, unfortunately.

And finding where James is through that technique - the swordsman would use one more surprise attack to sway this battle; the last remaining pebble which he'd tucked inside his left bracer coming into play for use.

Moving his left arm just outward a bit, the pebble tucked in the left bracer shot out in a noiseless sound, like a bullet straight towards James' gut - the swordsman angling his arm so he could get a good angle to fire the sucker.

It lacked penetration capabilities since he doesn't have a direct visual on James, but if he repeated the waterjet move he had performed just a second ago, when the pebble impacts James body and immediately explodes on impact...

Then James should have a lovely time in figuring out what the hell just happened when he gets knocked right off of his legs from the blast and into the ground some meters away - like being hit by a direct blast from a fire hose.

At the same time when he fires it, the swordsman would dash forward right for the icy spikes and destroyed grounds in front of him - needing to recharge and replenish his three rounds he'd spent for use.

"Nifty!" Oh ya, it sounded seriously lame, but it was one of Raven's best compliments... hell she even waved her lolly pop for a moment with a little smile as she evaluated the pair of fighters.

K-chick.

Fwoop.

Hwhooo~

"Sir, this is a no smoking area. It's disrespectful to the other--"

"I'm going to count down from one, and if you don't back off, this cigarette will find it's way into parts of your body you didn't even know you had. One."

"Um. Go... ahead, sir."

Tak. Tak. Tak. Tak. Tak.

As more people began to gather around the railings, the faint click of hard soled shoes could be heard against the polished cement leading the way towards the greater arena. The man in the tunnel heard a voice, one that he had no choice but to respond to. "And what the public wants, the public gets. It's the natural order of things."

The kind of voice that belonged to a man who didn't smoke cigarettes.

He sounded like he ate them.

Far from the young handsome long-hairs that seemed to be all over the place these days, he at least had the long-hair part down. Red as blood and left running free, most of it settled in front of his face before being brushed off to the side. A cigarette dangled loosely from his lips; already lit, it accented his aged face, suggesting he was at best in his early forties.

"Hey, kid. You the one I'm fighting?"

Regardless of how old Leonard was, he'd be referred to as 'kid.' Meanwhile, the man's hands went to his pockets, finding a nice place to rest within.

Bland brown pants, tight enough around the waist to stay on but just loose enough to grant some mobility in the legs, a loose button-down shirt with a black tank underneath, black boots, and a worn hat. He looked like a man off the street. Seemed that, just like the kid across the way, not everyone had to wear elaborate costumes.

16/17

The swordsman could care less whether if the attack struck or not. If it did, that's an added bonus for him, but with James being the heated guy he is, the swordsman had a bigger issue at hand than James breathing down his back.

Which was - technically, the need to reload. It's a bad thing to experiment during a fight, but often it gives valuable insights on what can be done, and what would result from those actions....acting.

By the time James was planning to go stabby stabby at him after striking a pebble with an extremely accurate slash with his nodachi - when the swordsman recalls later after the match and finds something off about it - he would be dashing off without hesitation towards the frozen tundra in front of him. Where James leaped off and evaded one of his rocky blasts, the swordsman hurried to where he last placed the carnage, scooping his left hand low as large chunks of ice quickly disintegrated on the spot when he neared them - being drawn back and gathered into a suitable charge for use.

He won't have enough time to concentrate the amount to magnify his attack power though in just one post, soo.....

Well, first things first.

RUN!

"I'd like to say I prefer a bit more variety to my pissing contests, but sadly the standard rules will have to do. Can barely keep up with all the rules these days... back when I was in my prime these sorts of tournaments only ended when someone was pronounced legally dead."

A loud series of cracks escaped his left knuckle as the fingers were bent back lightly, then crammed into a fist.

"All right. Enough talk, I'm not the kind for monologues. Give it your all, kiddo."

Taking the fists-out-front-one-leg-slightly-in-front-of-the-other stance that was so common among every fighting game character in the history of games, he looked thoughtful for a second before speaking again.

"By the way. My name's Kaldarak."

He unfolded his right hand to wave towards himself.

"Let's see what you've got."

The farther James was from Snow, the shotgun-like had less of an impact then it might've had, and since the martial artist wasn't chasing, that was a decent distance.

To boot, the martial artist sensed the massive burst of power, it wasn't really quiet or low-key by any standard, and in reponse, almost instinctively, James set his master-crafted weapon, Amaterasu alight with sacred flame one more time, and angled it up to deflect the katana.

"Kakkato Chigatana" he stated once again as he did so. Bloody Hot Blade sufficed for this last exchange, and so close to the end of the match, James felt that there was no need to waste more power. He'd always have other chances to show off and destroy Snow.

The brillant clang of metal, ice, and fire before James sent Snow's katana spinning wildly overhead, landing somewhere behind James rather harmlessly. Overall, he still suffered numerous new shallow gashes and cuts over his body from the accompanying hailstorm, but if they hurt, well, he bore it like a champion, and there was no real telling.

As the match ended, James stood there, slowly emerging from the mist with a low chuckle on his lips.

17/17

"Seriously, what are you going to do after you toss away your swords? Bleed on your opponents?"

"At any rate", he concluded, now with a genuine smile as he addressed his friend, "you've gotten stronger, but I still think I won that round, but here."

James reached out his arm to the sidelines and a spectator threw him a large brown duffel bag, which he then passed on to Snow, if he'd take it.

"You look like you need these. I'll be seeing you around Avan, stay in touch" he stated calmly, accenting his last words with the mime of a phone.

And then the scion of flames James Eredas left, just like that. Seemed like he always did that to Avan, coming out of nowhere to kick his a, give him a proposal, or to kick his a and give him a proposal, before disappearing just as quickly, off to do his own things.

Should Snow accept the duffel bag and look inside it, the ice swordsman would find himself a new hooded cloak, woven from the same sort of materials that James wore in his outfits. Black, with gold trim, it was very heat-resistant, and it seemed like it'd have protected well against James's flames to a limited extent. Avan Snow would also find a cellphone, along with the manual of how to use it. There was one more book in the duffel bag though, rather thick too.

It was titled:

"The Idiot's Guide to Social Skills". There was a note taped to the cover that read: "Yeah. You really need this"

Across the stadium a figure entered, a smaller man when compared to the six and seven foot giants that usually roamed these parts. His body was adorned in all green from head to toe and his face was concealed by a shawled that was draped across both his shoulders and his face. Of what little cold be seen .from the skin that his short sleeves and black gloved hands failed to hide, his skin was of a hazel tone and what little hair that jutted from behind the confines of the shawl his hair was black.

The figure had entered from the upper reaches of the wall and he steadily began to moved down, bounded down the stairs in series of leaps and hops instead of steps. Soon enough there came a time when there was no more stairs to descend and at that point the man dropped into a crouch and perched on the wall. His left hand steadying his stance and his right reaching up to the blade resting beyond his left shoulder.


"......"

((Vin, the profile link doesn't work or rather it links to wrong journal (entry). But it doesn't really matter anyway.))

He still wasn't sure how this pack law thing worked, but he wasn't gonna question it at this moment. He had something to prove if you will. Feet digging into the earth as the hair on the back of his neck raised, his own right hand would raise and come to rest beneath his chin, his left fist hanging below his waist clinched tight.

"Sounds good."

Light gray eyes darkening, his feet would dig in as he pushed off hard. Powerful legs churning as he moved to quickly close the gap between them. Sliding to a stop right in front of the wulf with his left foot forward, his bare feet kicking up dust in the process, his left shoulder would be presented forward as his right fist tucked at his waist. Shifting all his weight forward as he pressed off his right foot, he would unleash a heavy right straight to chest of the wulf... didn't matter if it landed or not. Had to get this fight started one way or the other.

The blow felt unusually light for something he had throw with a lot of his weight behind it.... no matter he had gained what he wanted without Laz realizing it. Left foot planted with a lot of Ura's weight on it meant that his torso was now moving forward with the punch. So as his punch "hit home" and his arm started to retract back to a defensive position in front of his chin, his left knee would bend as he pivoted on his toes, his torso rotating to the right as well... he was gonna turn the first punch into a combo.

BLAM!!

With his bending, meaning he had changed the target Laz had originally wanted to hit as the blow struck him in the side of the neck, he flinched slightly eyes widening as pain riveted through him... but he never stopped moving. As the arm cocked back for another shot, Ura's right arm reach was almost back to it's starting point. Waiting for the extension of the arm again, his body would be coming around left fist cocked as he throw a full body left hook. He would be struck in the shoulder as his fist would have another half second before it connected curvature of the bones on the fifth and sixth ribs.

The blow was meant to be heavy, painful as Ura's main goal was simply to get inside against the Wulf and force him to "fight".... there would be no running from this fight. Much like any boxer/ martial artist, Ura hit in levels. Taught never to punch your opponent, but rather through his opponent, Ura was aiming for the "Laz" on Lazenca's left side. Right hand tucked against his chin, his light gray eyes fully open as he stared down his opponent.

It was gonna take a little more if Laz wanted to survive this fight.

Affinity: 1/2

Energy gain: 0

Energy used: 0

Post till break down: 4

[2]

After throwing the blow and missing, he would move his body back to it's starting position, his hands now taking on a peek a boo guard position, knuckles resting just under his nose. He'd tilt his head off to the left, almost as if finally acknowledging the blow that was just thrown by his opponent.

"Is this how an Alpha fights?"

He was a little pissed that the Wulf so far had done nothing to establish dominance in this fight. But if he felt simple attacks were gonna take down Urarha, he was sadly mistaken in Ura's opinion. If he wasn't going to take this fight seriously, than he shouldn't have come out here in the first place and just let Ura's words go. But he was gonna have a hard time now ura was taking this fight seriously. Even with no reason to fight, once in it he took it seriously.

His eyes were light behind his hands, the iris nearly matching the pigment of his cornea as he torso started to move left to right. The muscles in his massive body tensed as his bare feet dug into the earth.

Bob

Weave

Bob

Weave

Bob

Explosion of dirt and earth would rain behind Urarha as he pushed off, the rhythm in which he wanted to conducted this fight now in his head. Torso hunched slightly forward as his powerful legs churned, he'd cover the few feet between them quickly. Coming down with his left foot just outside of the wulf's body, torso raising as his left hand would let loose a low driving punch to the hip of the wulf. It would be followed up just as quickly with a right straight coming up as Ura opened up his hips and twisted his torso to the left. The straight being aimed to slam into the solar plexus. The alternate hand from each punch moving to guard in the process of each blow being thrown.

Affinity: 2/2

Energy gain: 0

Energy used: 0

Post till break down: 4

He was open.

He was counting to much on the grab working in his favor more so than the fact that being that close to Urarha meant to keep the fight close and that combination would keep coming no matter what. So as his hand returned, his body was already squaring as he turned his torso back towards his target. The hand was grabbed and started to get pulled, there was nothing he was gonna do to stop it nor did he want to.

The look that Laz mistaken for anger was pure focus. He had long ditched his anger the moment he started moving and collecting his rhythm. He was watching for one thing the whole time and it was given to him on a platter. Never stopping the movement of the torso while pivoting on the balls of his feet, Laz would find that his face was exposed to a lancing left upper hook (an uppercut coming at a slight angle) that would land square on the chin as his hand was starting to be pulled.

Affinity: 2/2

Energy gain: 25%

Energy used: 0

Post till break down: 4

That knee was no different from taking a body shot from the Colonel, but since it was more surprise than pain, he was a little caught off guard as he came down on top of the Wulf. His feet still planted, he would slide his right upwards so that his feet were even keel with one another as his eyes lightened a little bit more. Leaning his weight onto the wulf's legs, he would give Laz a grin as he made no attack but simply stood there.

Affinity: 2/2

Energy gain: 50%

Energy used: 0

Post till break down: 3