Sunstrike vs Deitric

Stage0: Preliminaries

Frostschild Memorial Park

The sun is shining, the audience is pumped, it's a great day to kick a**.

While in memorium of those whom disappeared in the tragic Unity incident, this park is a lively place. In preparation for the fight some HoH fans brought their blankets and barbecues to watch the fight. It's a good old fashioned cookout amongst the violence.

Terrain

General - The green grass and general outdoorisness, while nice looking, should be accounted for.

Weapons - Barbecues, grilling implements, potato salad, trees.

Bonus Effects - Watch out for errant spectators, they're not as contained as usual.

Red Player: Sunstrike

Representing: First Eclipse

Played By:Sunstrike

Blue Player: Deitric

Representing: Team Redemption

Played By: TheDarthVizzle

The salamander wasn't the only one in the heat.

Across the green was his opponent for the preliminary fight, Deitric Jocasta. The tribesman was meandering about the sparsely populated park, bright turquoise eyes hidden behind opaque Romani shades and a tattered old cowboy hat. Unfortunately, he could do little to hide his identity, even if he hid his face - the biker jacket and razor sharp tomahawks that were nestled in the multitude of belts he wore was a bit of a tip off as to who the restless 'stranger' was.

But the warrior-by-trade didn't seem to be looking for a fight. More likely, he was just looking for his opponent! He didn't have a description or picture of the man (or woman, even?), he just knew that they were supposed to be here, just like he was. But there were scores of people here; families, couples, and even a few lonesomes all here to cook out and enjoy the sight of a good fight.

Carefully moving to the biggest open space he could find that didn't have little children running around, the tall man cleared his voice surreptitiously before calling out--

"Is there a fighter for the preliminaries here? I'm looking for my opponent..," Deitric trailed off with another cough. All the eyes turned to him with interest, but he felt out of place, and kind of like a bit of an idiot - calling out like a rooster at dawn for the Sun. At the very least, if no one came up to him, that meant he won by default or something, right?

The fighter adjusted his jacket and let out a grunt, turning his head to and fro to catch a glimpse of any movement that might've indicated the approach of his opponent-to-be.

!

Some things in the world just weren't right.

One of them being a man belly-surfing a bench into you when you weren't looking.

Besides being outright wrong (and possibly against the very laws of nature), it didn't feel very good, either.

"An--Hrgk!--Hrgphm.."

The tribesman hit the ground with a heavy thud as he ended his sentence, his hat and shades flung unceremoniously from his head and off into the crowd. The next series of sounds were somewhere between a grunt, sigh, and cough as he tried to express pain, surprise, and then having the air knocked from his longs all in the span of one or two seconds as his world was turned upside down.

Opening his eyes with a slight twinge of pain, the view above him wasn't that of a looming, monstrous fighter - the sort that could possibly throw a bench, or a punch hard enough to feel like one - but instead a lithe red-head laying on the bench that now pinned the taller of the two to the ground.

"Hiya!"

Deitric would of waved back, if his arms weren't stuck to his sides by the front most legs of the bench. Instead, he responded with a warbled cough and a "hello."

"I guess you're the other preliminary fighter--"

Deitric bunched his legs up beneath the bench as if he were curling up into a ball. But with the broadness of his shoulders, the movement didn't even show on his upperbody - he was quite literally stuck beneath the bunch, at least from the arms and up. Without a second of hesitation, he planted his boots on the bottom of the bench like a circus performer about to juggle a ball with their feet and gave a hard push. With his particular brand of leg strength, and Sunstrike's (un)fortunate lack of substantial weight, it was more than likely that the redhead and his bench were going to fly straight up into the air.

"NICE TO MEET YOU!"

Deitric shouted with a heave of force as he threw the bench (and its inhabitant) into the air with the upward straightening of his legs before rolling and scrambling backwards to get out of the way when it eventually came down. He picked himself up off the ground as quickly as he could manage and came up with both hands raised and clenched into fists. He'd been caught offguard, and he was still a little off-kilter as to what had just happened, but he was starting to get his bearings back.

This time, he tried to make sure his opponent was in front of him, and there weren't any other benches nearby.

Goddamn benches.

[1]

Deitric had just managed to pick himself up as the giant splinter was hurled his way. The tribesman lashed out instinctively with his right arm, battering the projectile away with his forearm. Luckily for him, said forearm was covered with a nice, metal bracer beneath his jacket. The piece of wood splintered and broke in two, one piece brushing against his flank while the top piece clipped his head with a sting of pain before tumbling to the ground behind him.

The fact that the part where the wood had broken with the grain had torn the sleeve of his jacket didn't improve his mood.

This is almost as bad as the Drow..

Deitric gritted his teeth and ignored the tiny pricks of wood that had scratched his face and neck as he stepped forward with his left foot to meet Sunstrike's charge, twisting his upper body to let loose a cannonball straight with his left. With any luck, Sunstrike would either run into it and lay himself out like some sort of slapstick comedy, except this one might include a broken nose or a few missing teeth, with Deitric's gloves hiding steel caps over his knuckles between the layers of black fabric.

At least he couldn't throw any benches. Now they could just pummel away at each other. Unless the redhead was hiding a bench or chair somewhere behind him.

[2]

Deitric's brows furrowed as the corners of his mouth turned downward into a frown. He hadn't expected to hit Sunstrike, but the sudden weight on his outstretched arm was more than a little surprising. He could see arms, a face-- and the rest of the salamander's body rose up into the air in a hand-stand. Deitric's stance widened slightly to accommodate the weight while he stared in confusion at his opponent.

Getting hit with a bench had left the fighter a little off-kilter, and he still hadn't really gotten his bearings in the fight. But he didn't have to be feeling very intelligent to make the next move.

As soon as Sun started cartwheeling off his arm, both of Deitric's hands moved to grab a hold of the smaller redhead, either by his top, or by an arm, shoulder, hair, or anything else he could get a good grip on. It didn't have the most finesse, and didn't look flashy, but he didn't waste any time getting the job done.

Once (more likely an if) the brave managed to grab Sunstrike by whatever parts of his upper body or the clothing on it he could get his hands on, he'd proceed to whirl around in a complete 180 degree spin before hurling his opponent towards the nearest grill.

And it was a pretty large grill. Operated on gas, it hadn't been turned on yet - the owner was off trying to gather up his 30 odd demon-elf-vampire children so they could have a family meal. He'd also yet to find his ten wives and two husbands, wherever they might've gotten off to.

As for Sunstrike's verbal prodding, Deitric didn't have much to say--

He did have purdy eyes.

[3]

"Hrm.."

That felt pretty satisfying. He'd never fought someone quite so quick and acrobatic before - most of the time, they tried to find a way to stand toe to toe with him, and proceeded to beat on each other until someone managed to get the upper hand. The red-skinned fighter's encounter with the Salamander thus far had been a lot different - he wasn't used to an opponent he couldn't readily punch or kick. At least he could throw him, though.

Deitric began to back up - the grill was a good twenty feet or so away probably, so he wasn't moving away to get any distance. Instead, he reached out with his right hand and snagged a smaller, circular grill and took it in both his hands. Without a second thought the brawny tribesman hurled the smaller grill at the larger one.

Would it really hurt Sunstrike? Maybe. Probably not. But it was entertaining, and maybe it'd knock over the larger grill, or catch the redhead when he opened the grill up to escape. At the very least, it'd clang loudly against the other grill and catch a lot of people's attention. That was always good.

For now, he kept his distance and watched - unless Sunstrike could find a way out of the grill that didn't involve opening it, the bright eyed warrior would see him. His face slipped back into the same impassive mask as usual, and without any shades to obscure his eyes, they'd begun to lighten in color and glow.

Get on out here..

[4]

Deitric took a bit of step at the sudden rumbling. When Sunstrike burst out of the top of the grill amidst the flames, the warrior could only grunt. Luck would have it that the smaller warrior had some sort of affinity for fire, and he'd just thrown him into a grill.

Oops.

Whoosh

Deitric's small half-step suddenly became a frantic lunge to dodge the grill-top discus the redhead had thrown at him. It didn't catch him full in the chest, but it hit with a dull thud into his left shoulder and spun him about, sending him down to his rump for a split second. The Khasmin tribesman popped right back up in the true, stubborn-mule fashion, the left sleeve of his jacket smoking slightly with a noticeable "grilled" mark pressed into it. The grill top had gone spinning off into the background behind him. Probably ruined someone's potato salad.

Beneath the black leather, he could feel blood seeping down his arm and staining his shirt. The grill had broken his skin through the jacket, but the bleeding wasn't bad - it was the bruising around the muscles of his shoulders that gave him more trouble. A dull throb of pain worked its way through his upper bicep and across the left side of his shoulder and chest.

In response, the tribesman reached up behind his back with both arms to grasp at something that was jutting over his shoulder before giving a heave-ho and lunging forward while bending at the waist a little. From over the top of his head and shoulders a large, rifle-stock shaped piece of wood came hurtling forward.

It wasn't aimed for Sunstrike, though. It was aimed for the spindle legs of the grill, aiming to buckle one and send the smaller of the two fighters tumbling out of his grill and back onto green - non-flaming - ground. It wasn't the most defensible move, or even the best he could do. But he wasn't stupid enough to walk over to a raging fire wrapped in steel that his opponent seemed to be enjoying. Or, at the very least, not minding.

Deitric didn't like fire.

[5]

Fireworks spiraled out and popped in air, and the more explosive sort popped and boomed with a metallic clang underneath the grill. Colorful explosions painted the area around the unfortunate grill while smaller firecrackers popped and exploded with faux gunshot bangs.

Whoops. At least it looked more like Sunstrike's fault anyways.

Even with the occasional bottle rocket whizzing through the air past him, Deitric had a clear view of his opponent this time 'round. He bent back up at the waist swiftly, his arms back up and on guard. This time, the Khasmin man decided, he'd let the redhead get closer - he'd draw him into the fight one way or another.

Deitric could feel the hairs on the back of his neck raise, a jitter of energy running through his cackling nerves. Whatever the cause, he made sure not to show any change - he remained cool and collected, his feet shifting beneath him as he waited for Sunstrike to come closer.

[6]

For a split second, it seemed as though the larger of the two was going to get chop-blocked rather harshly. At the last moment though, Deitric's knees seemed to give as his feet shifted back and his upper body weight seem to lean forward.

WHUMP

Sunstrike's full mass caught Deitric full in the thighs with a heavy, leaden thud - just below the groin, his shoulder planted firmly across the front of both of the Khasmin man's legs. It wasn't a crippling tackle to the knees, but the thighs had plenty of flesh; there'd be bruising and throbbing pain involved. Luckily for him, his groin had avoided any punishment, just a bit of cramped discomfort. But if Deitric had taken any sort of hurt, he had traded it in for putting the smaller fighter in a position to take more.

The tribal fighter's move had been akin to a sprawl of sorts, although it was far too sloppy and low to be the real thing. Unlike his teammate, Crawley, the brave didn't have true, cutting edge technical skill in the arts of wrestling and grappling. His education was basic, and his skill was mostly instinct. As such, his upper body lurched forward at the waist while his knees left soft scars in the loamy soil of the park.

His arms, however, had moved like a bear-trap - getting tackled had been the weight-pad that triggered his reaction. Both arms would of (hopefully) found their way around Sunstrike's waist from above while the man's shoulder was jammed painfully into his upper legs. As if that wasn't bad enough..

Bzz-zz-tt~

Cackling to life around his body, bright, iridescent blue tendrils of electricity jumped and danced along his body, cackling and popping in the air. For the readheaded Salamander, the feeling would only be described as a jolting, twitching pain, as if someone had just jammed a taser into his flank. A few muscles might've seized up, but if he was used to any sort of pain, it wouldn't take him long to fight past the initial shock (no pun intended) of being electrocuted.

That sliver of (what Deitric hoped would be) vulnerability was when the redskinned warrior took his chance. Pushing up with the balls of his feet, Deitric heaved himself and Sunstrike up into the air, holding the lithe fighter by the waist - and upside down.

Arching his back with as much force as he could garner, Deitric brought his opponent up, the man's legs on the left side of his head (to avoid any unfortunate leg wrappage about the neck) to sort of "sling" Sun's upper body up before reversing the arching of his back to give the First Eclipse team member a taste of an impromptu power-bomb, head and shoulders first into the dirt of the Memorial park.

"HUAGH!"

As if that wasn't enough, the warrior looked as if he was going to slam the salamander again, if he wasn't interrupted by something.

If Sunstrike wasn't able to break the tribesman's rhythm, the park would be filled with a new, earthy cadence--

--THUD--THUD--THUD--THUD----~

[7]

THUD--THUD--THUD--THUD--CRASH

That last sound wasn't quite like the others.

Deitric had been making pretty good time with his offensive, leaving an increasingly more detailed dent of Sunstrike's upper body into the earth. He was on the upswing, ready for his fifth slam when something smashed over the top of his head, splashing some sort of strong smelling liquid over his upper-body.

The tribesman's response to the pain was immediate. As soon as the nerves in his scalp started blinking "pain" to his brain, his arms loosened their hold on Sunstrike - right at the zenith of his movement to lift the salamander up. With all that built up force while the warrior was bending back, the lithe salamander was probably hurled somewhere behind Deitric rather awkwardly - and literally head over heels. In comparison to what he had just been through, it probably wouldn't hurt the pale redhead much. Unless he landed on a grill or a small child, or something.

As for the Khasmin man, as soon as he let his slam-buddy go flying, his hands immediately went to his head while he lumbered forward, keeping his eyes shut. Pressing his palms to the bandanna he wore like a headband, the warrior quickly pushed it up, sweeping it back over his mane of black hair. It was an odd movement, but to onlookers it would make sense - he was soaking up the wine to keep it from getting into his eyes anymore than it should, and he was forcing the glass out of his hair and scalp.

A few slivers had managed to pierce the skin of his scalp, leaving nicks and punctures mismatchedly dotting his head beneath his hair. With the wine soaking pretty much his entire head, it was hard to see any blood though, most of it soaking into his black hair. Besides the superficial flesh wounds and the initial shock of getting banged on the head with a bottle, Deitric wasn't in terrible shape - in comparison to something like a whiskey bottle, a wine bottle wasn't terribly thick. It had left him bleary eyed for a few seconds, though.. but that might've been the alcohol in his eyes.

Instead of slinging the soaked and glass riddled bandanna off to the side, Deitric instead wrapped it around his left fist, slivers and chunks of glass - some pink with diluted blood - jutting out from the twisted cloth of the bandanna.

Opening his eyes, the tribesman tore around to face his opponent. It had felt as though he hadn't taken that long, and after four or five slams, he didn't think Sunstrike would of already been on the attack or might've moved to a better position.

But that didn't mean he couldn't of, and with the sparse population and plenty of items laying about, it wouldn't be surprising if he had found something else to hurl at Deitric.

[8]

For a second, Deitric wondered why Sunstrike grinned--

Then the floor was pulled out from under him.

The warrior's arms flailed for a moment as his footing went with the blanket, and the taller of the two toppled backwards, landing with a dull, earthy sound on his upper back and shoulders. The shudder of impact ran through his body and shook out any of the last few pieces of glass from his scalp - most had gotten wiped out in the bandanna - and forced some of the air from his lungs.

The tribesman let out a wheezing growl and scrabbled up without pausing. His upper body seemed to twist as his arm flung out. At first, it might not of been apparent why, until something was flying from his hand and towards Sunstrike.

He hurled the same grill-plate that Sunstrike had thrown at him earlier, having grabbed it on his way to getting up. It was still a little warm, but it was always going to be a nicely weighted hunk of metal, and he hurled it right for the salamander.

Following the projectile was the thrower, legs pumping away as he charged the smaller fighter head on, the glass-ridden bandanna wrapped around his left hand.

[9]

Deitric's unblinking glare stayed ever-forward, staying completely focused on the target ahead: Sunstrike. The tribesman's grim face didn't show any signs that he had even registered the blow the salamander had thrown - it seemed as if he were just going to ignore it, if he'd even ignored it at all.

The sound of the redhead's blow to the brave's central mass wasn't that of bare knuckle thudding against taut muscle, flesh and skin, but that of hard, bony knuckle cracking itself against metal.

And that's exactly what the lithe fighter's fist had done. Beneath the zipped-up, biker-style leather jacket Deitric wore was a vest made of leather more suited for armor, and small plates of metal over the key points on his upper body. The armor was by no means heavy - most weapons could tear through the leather as if it were nothing - but the key placement of the small, metal inserts gave Deitric an advantage against the right attack. And an attack to the front portion of his chest was the sort that the metal was meant to soak up.

Sun's fist pushed into Deitric's chest, the black leather bunching up and twisting around the area of impact. But the blow didn't seem to slow down the red-skinned recipient in the least. Instead, the black-haired warrior's entire body seemed to come to a full stop at the length of Sun's arm and abruptly torqued to the left.

Out came the tribesman's left fist, the shards of glass glimmering while stitched and stuck through the bandanna he'd wrapped around his hand, the twist of his body throwing power and weight behind the blow. The glass-and-cloth wrapped knuckles were on a collision course for the Salamander's face, intent on laying him low and making him a great deal less pleasing to look at in the same show of force.

And everything blanked out. Whatever the conclusion of the fight, it simply ended here. A cliff hanger, to be explored at a later date, if fate paired the duo up against each other late on in the tournament.

[10]---[Finished.]