Timothy vs Isaiah

Stage0: Preliminaries

The Things Fox Hates Dojo

I think they may do Taekwondo here, and hey, is that a picture of John Cena?

A fighting arena of classical proportion, though those proportions don't have to be exactly defined. As long as the dojo has four walls, a roof and a floor, we're good with whatever size you decide on. The decor of course is just what you'd picture from an old kung-fu movie.

Terrain

General - Regular indoor floor, as interrupted occasionally by a mat for padding.

Weapons - One picture of John Cena.

Bonus Effects - Across the street one can occasionally hear mariachi music from the all night restaurant.

Red Player: Timothy

Representing: Team Rejects

Played By: That Guy 52

Blue Player: Isaiah

Representing: Team Tourists

Played By: Ziranz

Isaiah was a little later than Timothy. He noticed the door to the dojo was open as he approached, with a variety of colorful language spilling through the entrance, and decided to quietly slip in after removing his shoes by the threshold. He decided to remain by the entry.

"Hi!" he exclaimed amicably and bowed, in spite of the fact that Timothy was already putting on some knuckle dusters and getting ready to pounce. There could not have been a greater contrast between the brutish looking giant and the smaller Isaiah, whose fifteenth birthday was only ten days earlier.

At least Isaiah dressed himself as well as his opponent, gauging by the clothes on the wall rack. It would have been embarrassing and rude otherwise. He loosened the brown tie around his neck so that it drooped from the collar of his yellow dress shirt. He'd rather not be choked or thrown around by it, but he still kept it on. It was a status symbol. Maybe if he won this tournament he would get another black stripe to join the one already lining its center or... or a new tie altogether! What an exciting thought!

"Sorry, the kabobs across the street are fantastic. We should grab a bite after we're done," he offered, then politely asked, "Ready?"

Cookout? Isaiah's cousin was also fighting in a place like that. A barbecue sounded like fun. Maybe he'd stop by to see how Artist was doing after he grabbed those post-fight kabobs. Plans for the future aside, it looked like it was time to get started.

"I'm Isaiah," he returned, flashing a brief smile that disappeared when Tim howled and charged. With that much... body, Isaiah couldn't blame him; he knew there weren't too many options given their size difference. He decided to meet the blitz head on by charging Tim's charge. That would show him who was boss.

They couldn't have been much farther than fifteen feet away, which wasn't much distance to cross when the both of them were in a mad dash. Isaiah, however, did not wait to be put on the defensive. As soon as Tim was close enough, he ground to a halt on his left leg and pivoted to the right so that he could drop low to the ground with both hands used for support, then enter into a spin that arced his right heel on a sweeping path to kick Tim's feet out from under him.

Isaiah's back was turned when Tim went airborne, but he could tell something wasn't right. There weren't any foot steps, he was bathing in a shadow far too large to be his own, and his foot hadn't made any contact. He could still see indistinct movement out of his peripheral vision and his first instinct was to guard his face. A direct hit on the head could count him out.

Instead of getting up after his kick, he dropped onto his back and lifted his left arm across his upper body in a rising block that guarded his sternum, neck, and face. It appeared that Tim was simply falling on him until Isaiah felt the pressure on his arm. With all of the slam's momentum directed forward, it was susceptible to deflection from the side; although he didn't take the brunt, there would be a nasty bruise on Isaiah's forearm. One of Tim's arms would be pushed across his body and the other outside, redirected so that both fists struck the floor with a resounding crack right beside Isaiah's head.

He grimaced at the prospect of being hit by that, but counter-attacked immediately. Nobody would want that monster on top of them. The block would have left Tim's left flank exposed and, assuming all went as planned, Isaiah torqued his hips slightly and aimed to plant his right knee into Tim's ribcage to help topple the beast or at least give him incentive to back off.

"Whew..." Relief flooded Isaiah's face while his opponent was cussing and recovering. He wanted to stay on the floor for a little while longer, but the 'it won't happen again' woke him right up. With a frown on his face, Isaiah curled his abdomen and brought his legs towards his chest, then kicked up from the floor and onto his feet. Classic move; he was a show off.

After a deep and calming breath, Isaiah lifted his arms up as guards, bounced once between his feet, and began at Tim again. His pace was more cautious than before, but he was still fast.

Keeping Tim's upper body strength in mind, Isaiah chose to go for the lower half again. He stepped in with his left leg and snapped his hip forward, swinging low with his right to hit the inner knee of Tim's right leg and break it. No matter someone's size, the human body was vulnerable and fragile; crippling someone's mobility almost guaranteed victory.

Staying in the door frame was probably the silliest idea Artist had all day. Didn he know doors were made for people to go through, then keep going? There were plenty of walls and other areas for general lounging.

Bubbles wanted through that door. She wasn't usually rude. Far from it, she was actually quite the diplomat. Only, after having run all the way from the Barton fountain to the dojo after her own fight, the girl was pumped, and momentarily forgot the usual, expected social niceties.

So she shoved Artist out of the way and barged in, fist pumping in the air.

"COME ON TIM, KICK HIS CANDY a**!"

Resistance? That was to be expected, but now that he had initiated a plan of attack, Isaiah wasn't about to back down. It was disconcerting to have his leg snatched from him while being heckled by someone he imagined to be Tim's teammate, but his cousin's appearance put him into high spirits.

And gave him the added desire to impress!

The lower body was still his target. Instead of hanging in there like a fool and risking his own knee, Isaiah took a breath and dropped the support of his other leg. Tim's fist came and swept by harmlessly as he dropped to the ground; his leg was no longer held out horizontally and, since his foot was the portion being held, he had the leverage for his leg to angle with his fall.

He let out an 'oof!' when his shoulders struck the ground. Isaiah's free leg was bent at the knee and, once he landed, he jammed it outwards to slam his heel into Tim's right shin, cause him as much pain as possible and force him to let release his leg or suffer another one.