Lamentian Plains

Lament - Lamentian Plains

Lament's plains are dotted with watchtowers that watch the approach to the massive fortress city. The plains are dry, cold, and covered in a grey pulverized granite and other igneous and volcanic rocks. They are mostly flat, but some small hills break up the desolate landscape. In the distance, the looming black walls of Lament itself beckon weary travelers onward, even while being outlined by the massive form of an active volcano in the background, belching smoke and ash. Any magical, divine, arcane, or even naturally produced "flashy" powers have been outlawed as per a direct order from Lament's Government. Physical attacks are the only things allowed. This extends to weapons as well. They can only be used as weapons, and in their non-magicked non-uber states.

General - Flat, featureless plains stretching for miles, except for here.

There's a massive fifty ton boulder on the side of the course.

Weapons - Rocks?

Natural Element Resource - Lots of rock, but you can't use it.

Bonus Effects - Magical/divine/chemical/etc abilities are barred from being used.

Physical attacks allowed ONLY. Think "Bloodbath" without the strength/stamina limitations.

Adrinai was the first to land. He struck a dramatic pose.

Prepare for justice!

To protect the world from devastation!

To pronounce the virtues of truth and love!

Adrinai!

Team Excalibur! Endowed with the power of light!

BARD THAT'S RIGHT!

"... You guys are fags."

Shouyin had been there since the dawn of time.

Finished with his derisions, Shouyin snapped open a beach chair, lit up a spliff and took a seat.

It was high time he beat that boulder in a staring contest.

If there was one major difference between this desert and the last desert they had been marooned in it had to be the cold.

And the rocks. Two major differences. This desert had more rocks.

It was the cold though that was going to make this suck. They had only been posing as a team for a few seconds and Anson already felt his body getting tight and stiff from the cold air of the Lamentian wasteland. He'd honestly never expected being so near to a volcanic mountain range to be this cold, but the fact that they were standing in the open as the chill winter winds lashed at them did not improve things at all.

"Excellent work, team. It was a brilliant idea combining that elvish interpretive dance with a prayer for victory." The team's Captain praised the members for their group effort, but still something seemed to be missing... "Oh yes! And thank you Sir Adrinai for preparing these team uniforms for us, but now I think I'm going to get something to keep the wind out."

The young paladin grabbed the duffel bag that was laying beside him on the ground; they had not come unprepared just because they were in uniform after all, the members of Excalibur had brought their gear with them as well and for Anson that also meant something he was desperately wanting right now.

"Oh, by the light that's better." He exclaimed as his arms pulled through the sleeves of a down jacket that had been tucked into his bag. The helicopter hadn't been quite this cold so he hadn't taken it out yet, but with the wind chill on the Lamentian plains he was glad that he had packed it. His Falician tunic was normally warm enough for any type of weather but it had been torn up by the monk Tenkai Matsumoto in their previous match and he had not yet managed to find a replacement for it; which was why he was now standing in the middle of the desert with a large 'E' emblazoned upon his chest.

The rest of his equipment wouldn't be necessary to take out until he was going to fight, but to keep his metal armguards from becoming frigid before he donned them Anson fastened them onto his forearms and then pulled the sleeves of his jacket back down over them. After slipping on a pair of gloves, the only items left in the bag were his gPod and headphones and, of course, the sword.

The sword he would be needing to fight, but the rules they had been handed for this match...

"Okay listen up!" the young Captain said, spinning around to address his team and shouting over the sound of the desert wind in his ears. "The Lamentian government has put a ban on the use of magic and supernatural powers within their borders! That means we're on our own out here for this match! No magic, no auras, got it!? These are their laws and we will respect them!"

Vahn Fah Wrote:

The ship broke out of the clouds and was now descending on downwards.

A dot appeared over the horizon, coming from the south. The boy shielded his eyes with a hand as he tried to discern what it was... another news helicopter? Maybe, but it seemed too big for that... not only that, but whatever this thing was it just kept getting bigger and the shape became clearer.

This thing he was seeing below the clouds was not on the horizon at all anymore, it was coming nearer and coming in lower. This thing was definitely no television network chopper coming to film the action, it was...

It was...

"Huge!" he screamed out as a looming shadow grew over the desert. "It's HUGE!"

Vahn Fah Wrote:

He had last seen the Wolf wandering about the deck, and Silver--- well, he hadn't seen him so far...the last thing he remembered hearing was something about the younger man wanting to check out the ship's helm.

And at the helm he was. Silver had actually spent most the trip running back and forth between the port, starboard, and stern just admiring the view. Ever since his first outing on an air ship, the semi finals of his very first Heaven or Hell to be exact, he had decided that he'd loved to fly. He didn't get the chance very often, so when Vahn offered, he was practically on board before Vahn could finish the sentence, ready to go. In fact, he'd wanted to leave early just so they could enjoy some extra flight time. Vahn wouldn't have it.

Of course, being the curious and adventurous young lad he was, Silver eventually became interested in the ships controls, and thusly, the helm. Mentioning it in passing as he wandered about the deck, he eventually made his way there. Of course, he had received stern warning not to touch anything, and he stood there for a long while, just staring, wondering how it worked. But, the temptation was too great.

Moving to stand behind it, Silver would rub his gloved hands together in anticipation, trying to decide how to best go about this endeavor. Vahn was gonna be pissed, that was for certain, so he was going to make sure the lashing (either tongue or physical) was going to be worth it. He slowly reached out to touch one of it's many handles...

And no sooner than the instant he made contact did the ship begin it's plunge.

"OH SHI-"

Silver would scramble about for anything to grab onto other than the helm itself, hoping that leaving it be would auto-correct the problem. It had been flying okay on it's own before, right? No such luck.

With the problem becoming noticeably worse very quickly, Silver would try to make his way back onto the deck to find Vahn. Then sudden dipping motion, however, would cause him to stumble and practically roll down the deck until he slammed into the railing near Vahn.

Looking around in a panic, he would grab onto anything he could find before crying out, terrified and teary eyed that the whole situation was his fault.

"I ONLY TOUCHED IT A LITTLE, I SWEAR!"

The airship would make it's dangerous dive toward the ground, completely overshadowing the entirety of Team Excalibur, a great wind funneling in underneath to mark it's passing.

The elemental within the flight ring finally ceased to be, vanishing in a great final flare, even as the keel of the ship finally began to chew into the plains beneath.

--!!! It was all he could do, to just keep himself balanced atop the stem, chunks of gravel, dirt and several metallic objects flying past him. The entire airship would now be digging into the earth, it's hull getting severely ruined as it would continue to slide forward.

"Shi---" Directly ahead, he could see what amounted to a very large rock. In fact, it should be upgraded to boulder. Maybe a small mountain at this point. With nothing to do but brace for impact, the forward momentum of the ship would suddenly start to slow, grinding along the gritty earth until the ship came to a complete halt...and literally nudged into the huge boulder just a tiny bit.

Of course, this meant that his face was just about all up in rock, and he had narrowly escaped being smashed to pieces. His facial expression said that much, and he was glad no one else could see him at this point. What the hell. "DAMMIT! STUPID ROCK!"

Suddenly, attitude flaring, he sent his right foot stomping forward, a futile gesture considering how big the damn rock was, and how likely he would just be hurting himself.

"......" After a couple of seconds, hairline fractures appeared along its surface; then a dozen more, racing all over the place--- until it literally collapsed from the inside.

For all intents and purposes it looked like he'd actually kicked the rock into oblivion. So even the scenery here is empty... He felt a bead of sweat run down his face.

"Dammit....!" He waved all the dust and what not from his face, turning around on the stem, to take a good look at everything.

"I hope everyone's alright..."

As the disabled airship broke through the cloud cover and fell from the sky the passengers who had lost control of the ship had many things go through their minds as the ground rushed in to meet them.

However... those who were on the ground had something entirely different to worry about.

themightyjello Wrote:

"Huge!" he screamed out as a looming shadow grew over the desert. "It's HUGE!"

And it was coming straight at them.

"Oh... Oh... OH.... OH!... OH-!"

Vahn Fah Wrote:

The elemental within the flight ring finally ceased to be, vanishing in a great final flare, even as the keel of the ship finally began to chew into the plains beneath.

--!!! It was all he could do, to just keep himself balanced atop the stem, chunks of gravel, dirt and several metallic objects flying past him. The entire airship would now be digging into the earth, it's hull getting severely ruined as it would continue to slide forward.

"Shi---" Directly ahead, he could see what amounted to a very large rock. In fact, it should be upgraded to boulder. Maybe a small mountain at this point. With nothing to do but brace for impact, the forward momentum of the ship would suddenly start to slow, grinding along the gritty earth until the ship came to a complete halt...and literally nudged into the huge boulder just a tiny bit.

If Anson had thought it had been windy before on the barren plains what happened for a few seconds as the belly of the airship passed overhead and crashed into the desert was nothing short of a typhoon. The ground shook from the impact and the boy fell to the ground unable to keep his balance. The gusts from the ship's engines and the force of the crash sent a wall of sand and earth flying into the air in the airship's wake; forcing him to turn his face away and raise his arm to protect him from the sudden onslaught of wind and sand. Each small grain that got past bit at any exposed skin, leaving pinkened marks on the young man's face and neck where he had been unable to shield himself. For a moment it felt like Matsumoto's Burning Cyclone Slash all over again... but only for a moment.

When the air cleared and the earth stopped trembling they could finally see what had happened. The ship had left a gash in the plains in its wake and barreled forward with so much force that the massive boulder that had been the sole feature of this desert landscape had been broken under the ship's bow.

Coughing, spitting, and slapping his clothing to loosen the dust from it Anson pushed himself back up and stared down the swath of upturned sand and stone at the ship that had fallen from the sky.

"I."

With the back of his hand he rubbed embedded sand from the side of his face.

"Hate."

Clenching his fists tightly at his sides, Anson stared up directly at the filming chopper that was circling above the area and took a deep breath.

"DESERTS!"

The young Captain threw his weapon over one shoulder and slung his duffel bag back in the direction that their team had set up 'base camp'... meaning that he tossed it next to Adrinai's extradimensional wardrobe and alcove mirror that would no doubt need to be Windex'd before any more self-admiration could be done.

...but there would be time for that later. Now was the time to see if anyone had been hurt in the crash. It was the time to see if Glacier had come prepared.

It was time for a match.

Adrinai gave a slight bow at the compliments on the team uniforms.

"Oh, it was nothing. I borrowed the designs from an ancient Elven play by the name of Pokemen, a story of our first experiences with human summoning magic. Anson, you and I are portraying the heroes of the story and our bardic friend here is playing the role of their faithful summoned monster."

He could've gone on for hours, but by the end of his statement he realized that he was freezing. He had become so used to his light aura mitigating any chill he had felt that it took him a moment to remember what the sensation was and why he would be feeling it.

Damn these unjust laws. Darkness take them!

It was just like the humans to make laws to bring everyone down to the lowest common denominator. All it really meant was that only the criminals would have access to magic, and those that would normally stop them would be powerless to do so if they wished to remain law-abiding citizens. It was a fool's gambit, outlawing that which made people special.

Ah well, at least it's an excuse for this...

He opened up his wardrobe and after a moment of rummaging, found what he'd been looking for: his coeurl-fur coat! It was a rare item, as those that tried to hunt or trap the coeurl often wound up paralyzed, petrified, or dead in an instant. While the fur of the coeurl did not transfer any of the beast's mystical properties to the coat, it did make it splendidly warm. He fluffed up the collar and wrapped it around himself.

themightyjello Wrote:

"Huge!" he screamed out as a looming shadow grew over the desert. "It's HUGE!"

"Oh, no, Anson, it's actually custom-tailored. It's supposed to fit like thi-"

As he finished strapping on a bracer over the coat, facing away from his team captain, he finally saw the giant shadow darken the ground at his feet. He turned and looked up.

"Oh. Oh shenanigans."

He considered running, but there was no way he'd be able to wheel his wardrobe away that quickly.

I shall defend it with my life!

As the giant flying machine plummeted, Adrinai finished strapping on his armor, picked up his sword and shield, and stood with his back to the wardrobe.

"BRING IT ON!"

And then it crashed.

Dirt and rocks sprayed hundreds of feet in the air, and the airship finally came to rest against the one boulder within a hundred miles of their position, a mere ten feet from where Adrinai was making his stand.

"I could've taken it."

Vahn Fah Wrote:

"Hey! I hope you're all still alive down there!

Be a damn shame if you bought it this early!"

Anson knew that voice. It was one that he wouldn't so easily forget. His eyes shot up from the broken bow of the ship to the deck above--

'To bring something like this... It must be true after all.'

The young man could not help but grin to himself in response. There were always things that people would say about a man who stands in the limelight both good and bad, but there were things said about Vahn Fah that rivaled Chuck Norris. But if this ship was his, if Vahn had come here looking for him with something like this and to see him standing at the bow of it like the world itself was his to command...

'What they say must be true. He really is a King after all.'

Vahn Fah Wrote:

"ANSON! I know your down there! Get ready!" He shouted it out even as he swiped his Fang in quick wrist motion out to the side--- slicing right through the clamps that secured one of the anchors to the vessel-- and causing it to spear outwards on lengths of rattling chain.

The anchor would impale itself into the bleak landscape, just a few feet from where all of Team Excalibur was positioned, making the chains taut suddenly.

The ship's anchor shot out from the side of the ship like a spear, hurtling through the space between the crash and Excalibur's encampment before burying itself into the plains with another cometary collision.

Another blast of sand shot up from the ground and once again Anson raised his right arm across his eyes to shield his face from the spray, but the gust of air that came with it blew back the hood from his head as the anchor come to a dead stop just shy of his feet. Yet for some reason he just couldn't bring himself to hide the excited smile that he wore.

'...this guy.'

His breath came out in clouds of steam as the young swordsman lowered his arm, staring up the length of taught chain stretching between him and the man standing on that airship. The man from Glacier who was up there waiting for him.

'...for this guy.'

He had met Vahn once before, a few days ago in the Medical Ward. Though his words were humble it didn't change a thing about the air that surrounded him; he had the intensity about him that no amount of embellishment upon the story could even compare to the truth. He was a champion. A king. A legend.

'I can't wait for this guy!'

Vahn Fah Wrote:

Pushing forward, he began sliding down the length of chain, the soles of his boots sparking and guiding him along towards the ground, his cloak flapping wildly behind him as he kept it gripped in his right hand.

Anson vs Vahn-- an explosion of youth!

Anson dug his fingers into the back of the glove on his left hand, peeling it off and tossing it to the ground without a care. Maybe it was cold but he didn't want anything interfering with his grip for this. He didn't want anything to get in his way. The sheathed sword was held by the scabbard in his right hand, and he could almost feel it throbbing in his grip; he could almost feel heat rising from the burned etching in the wood where the man in front of him had shed blood.

'Make it happen' - Vahn Fah

It was like he had been a child standing outside a closed candy store with five dollars burning a hole in his pocket. The door was locked but the window was there, forcing him to stand and stare at everything on the inside that he wanted to get to... and wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Vahn had flung open the doors and Anson did not feel like waiting anymore.

Grabbing at the hilt of the sword with his left hand, he stripped the scabbard from it in one motion as he rushed forward; the accumulated sand and dust pounded off of his shoes with every step as he charged forward up the thick anchor chain towards the airship's deck. The wooden scabbard was tossed to the side, landing in the sand a dozen feet from the anchor chain but Anson kept going. Still grinning ear to ear he bit down upon the middle finger of his right hand and ripped off the glove, passing the sword from left hand to right and holding it behind him on the right side with both hands clenched tightly upon the hilt.

'where doing this man. where MAKING THIS HAPEN'

Still holding the finger of one black glove between clenched teeth Anson climbed the remainder of the distance between himself and the man that came sparking down the chain as his metal boots scratched and scraped across the surface of the anchor tether. The edge of Anson's sword impacted the side of the chain as he brought it up in a low horizontal slash at knee height of the man coming down ahead.

Heaven or Hell 2010 - Let's Rock!

TIMER 16:30

Miranda finally looked over the rail of the crashed ship, looking bleary-eyed and just a bit annoyed.

She already had reservations about getting on the ship with the huge fire ring surrounding it, but hey... it was admittedly a very cool-looking ship, and the fastest and easiest way to the fight. She'd gone from being at the helm, to on deck, to finally finding a place to lay down and take a nap.

And then they crashed.

By the time she got down to the ground, Vahn and one of their opponents (the same one who he'd autographed the sword for, no less) were getting into it, and she'd the time to notice something really weird going on with her aura... namely, the fact that it was being nullified. It was a cool area temperature-wise, so she didn't begin sweating or anything... but the prospect of doing so while fighting made her frown.

Eventually, she went to stand next to Shouyin, leaning on the half-golem with an elbow propped on his shoulder.

Shouyin picked at something in between his teeth and then fell asleep.

"--!" For such a blind thrust-- it sure was too close for comfort, being just short of having run him through from behind. "Whew!"He mumbled out with a mouthful of blade.

He stared out from between his own legs at the near emasculation, before pushing up with his left hand.

His back kick met air evidently, as his opponent seemed to anticipate the movement-- causing Vahn to almost falter in his initial perception of the youngster. You sure aren't just another naive boy, are you?

Having pushed his body upwards and back, he simply would end up back on the chain in a crouched stance, before rising and swiping his Fang out to the side with his right hand; showing he had no difficulty in switching from either left or right.

"Bravo-- bravo, truly a wonderful display of quick thinking and tenacity!" He gave a curt bow forward, smirking all the while. "But I don't really think this is the sort of place for that sword of yours.

We can stay here, or you can go up or down; your choice.

After all-- it's the least I can offer you." His right eye narrowed with innocent intent.

He wouldn't want to take advantage of the kid after all- where was the lesson in that?

TIMER 15:00

Some time in the future...

"Saphen! I choose you!"

Grasping a hold of a red-and-white ball, the Captain of team Excalibur threw it into the desert in the direction of their opponents. He really wasn't sure exactly what this part of the elven ritual was meant to portray but according to Adrinai it was a ceremony that they performed at the beginning of every summoned creature battle during the era of Ket'chumall the Collector.

And who was he to argue with thousands of years of elven tradition?

The multi colored ball hit the ground, kicking up a surprising amount of dust, masking the bard's entrance. The musician suddenly appearing out of what seemed to be no where, gracefully landing in playing position. The cat tail blew in the wind, creating a fearsome sight for any opponent to behold.

But of course that was silly...living creatures coming out of tiny objects...SILLY INDEED!

But Saphen, not wishing to offend a culture in anyway, prepared to play the traditional battle music that Adrinai had given him the music to only a few days earlier.

Saphen's bow moved on the strings back and forth, the fingers on his left hand occasionally wiggling to create distortion in the otherwise smooth notes. The song was fast, upbeat, and would rally any summoner into battle with out hesitation. It was important to put both power and grace into this song for it represented the very essence of Elven Tradition.

Power, the strength of the creature they summoned in combat to overcome any enemy.

Grace, the fluid and majestic motions of their elven masters as they commanded them to fight.

Now Playing: Pokemon Theme Song

This part was the easier of the two actions the bard had to perform in order to complete the sacred battle tradition...the second was...a bit more....

Embarrassing...

As the bard played, every rest between notes he whipped his bow out in various directions. What seemed to be a Kata from some martial arts of sorts, the bard danced about in place. Each graceful slash and thrust occurred exactly the moment it was suppose to.

Here it comes...

The thought passed the musician's mind with dread as he performed a few spinning kicks before suddenly stopping in playing position.

With a thunderous roar that no one had expected from the usually quiet bard he yelled out the most important part of the entire ritual.

"SAPHEN!"

According to Elven Traditions it seemed that before a battle started the monsters introduced themselves by saying their name. Worst yet during combat every action seemed to be marked by the very same word.

The phrase That's my name...don't wear it out! crossed his mind but with his chosen profession being a bard...he knew better then to mention that to his pointed ear friend.

But he hoped that if he...occasionally missed a moment to say his name...that it would go unnoticed.

By accident of course...

But as the bard marked his battle shout by pointing his bow at his opponent he suddenly realized something...

During the entirety of the ritual Saphen had never looked to see who he was fighting.

Taking a moment to raise his gaze he would begin to study who his opponent was.

The ritual is over...but the battle is just beginning!

Allegro: Brisk or Rapid "My head is bloody, but unbowed."

• 6'1" and ~285.

wearing a black leotard with a patterned, long, open-face skirt.

wearing bracers, half-greaves over separate leather-looking leggings (they looked like thigh boots, without any part below the ankle), and a belt that was more than a belt, if the plated extension over the mail was any indication.

black haired (save the big blue streak), black-tailed, blue-eyed and blue-lipped, but rather than lipstick seemed she was suffering from hypothermia.

unarmed, as long as one ignored her claws and teeth. But we'll call 'em "fangs" because "fangs" sounds cooler is is really a lot more accurate for visuals.

yawning, loudly displaying aforementioned fangs.

At some point, Miranda had taken to bobbing her head from side to side, as if she had music in her mind. Good ol' Shouyin wasn't doing much to indicate his want of a fight right now, probably still being annoyed at the flashy entrances all around... Team Excalibur's declarative intro, followed immediately by Vahn's ship crashing when they entered the area's airspace... and then...

"What in the..."

There was... another one...? Miranda frowned, feeling already that it may be doomed to the same fate as Vahn's airship, if it worked on magic at all.

"Wasteland to the left of me, ships falling to the right..."

She lightly pushed off Shouyin's arm, that being the final declaration that she'd handle this next match. Vahn was Vahn, and was assured to have them in good standing with the Judges. Miranda just needed to do her part... do better than the last round, for sure.

"Here I am, stuck in the middle with someone in a cat suit."

Though, considering her physical condition, irony was abound. Oh well... she took a good, hard, observational look to the Saphen chap who'd been summoned via ancient, archaic, Elven, perhaps DEMONIC ritual. She was trying to see what all she could clearly see about his equipment, that she may infer what could be hidden. As she'd been reminded the previous round, underestimation was a thing that could come back to bite you in the a**...

...while engulfed in flames.

"Well, I hope you're ready."

Miranda walked forward casually from a distance of about 30 feet, and would continue walking until (a) Saphen gave her a REALLY compelling reason to stop, by way of weapon drawn and swung or thrown at her or (b) she was able to backhand Saphen with her mighty right hand for allowing her to get within arm's reach... in which case she was going to be wary anyway, but generally if she was that close, then...

| Allegro vivace con brio - [Apoplexy ]|

[Track 01]

[edit: grab before slap removed. seriously, i must've not been paying attention, that shouldn't've been there.]

[Susumu Hirasawa - Forces ]

"You just might regret those words."

"Never." The boy replied without an ounce of doubt in his voice as he adjusted to Vahn taking his stance; bringing the tip of his weapon forward more even though he still held it vertically beside his right shoulder in both hands. Shifting the weight forward would allow him to bring the sword into motion faster but would lower the power of his swing; however power was the least of his concerns right now...

Analyzing the situation through orthodox measures put the boy at a disadvantage in a duel like this - Vahn's weapon was lighter and faster to move, and though Anson's b*****d sword had more reach unless he could play the distance properly and keep the other man just outside of his own range it left the paladin in a bad situation. The outcome of a sword duel could be sealed by a single well-placed strike; even a flesh wound could slow a fencer's reaction time and decide the victor then and there. Anson could not afford to be reckless in facing this opponent, but if he only defended then Anson would not be able to keep Vahn outside of his most effective range.

With his off hand (the left) raised a bit and in front of his body-- the cloak was released and went fluttering out to the side, catching on the desert winds.

At the same moment, Vahn would release a quick extension of his lead arm (the right and current sword hand), point aimed towards his opponent's open torso even as he shot forward with his back foot (left) crossing over to the lead foot (right) and continuing crossover (fleche) to cover the distance, placing himself within Anson's measure, while risking and exposing his own to the youngster.

'Coming--!'

Anson brought his own blade down between the two fighters as Vahn thrusted; falling back with his left foot further to turn his shoulder away and sink back his body a few inches further from the tip of the rapier to buy time for his parry - the base of the blade would strike the Fang partway through its thrust and force it outside to the left (Vahn's right). The tip of the sword had actually moved very little, almost as if it had been pinned in place and only the hilt was allowed to be moved, because for the moment the mass of his blade was not necessary -

'Parry and...'

In the instant following contact Anson twisted his wrists to turn the sword a quarter-turn clockwise and bring the cross-guard behind the Fang. He held no illusion of being able to trap it there and disarm the opponent but bringing the guard against it as well as the blade locked the rapier in on two sides and would prevent Vahn from immediately flicking the blade away from Anson's sword and making a strike to his flank and buy the young swordsman another half second to answer him.

'...riposte!'

He brought up the hilt of his sword with both hands underneath Vahn's rapier with a sudden short thrust, timed simultaneously with a quick step of his forward (right) leg to the side to widen his stance. A backstep followed, firing off of the ball of his left (rear) foot to bring it behind his right and turn his stance 45 degrees counter-clockwise as Anson brought the hilt of his sword down again fiercely; carrying the blade in an arc that slashed diagonally downward between them (from Vahn's left shoulder to right hip) as Anson dropped back to a safer distance once again.

His movement ended in a low stance; with the hilt of the sword being held in two hands by his left hip and the tip angling upwards between the two fighters. Even after attacking he couldn't afford to let his defense waver.

TIMER 13:30

Saphen was dwarfed compared to this much larger, much heavier woman who approached him. In fact it seemed that he had run into an ironic game of cat and mouse...err...dog? They both knew how this would go, the much larger opponent would try to corner and conquer while the lighter one evaded...

Saphen was 5'5, between 160-180 pounds depending on what music store he was leaving, and on top of that he was merely a human.

Well we can't all play the Cello...

Deciding it was best not to get pushed back by her strong demeanor the bard began to approach as well. Like his opponent he had complete faith in his captain as a fighter. At this point the bard considered himself a second string in the orchestra to the obvious prowess of his two partners.

He had faith in them...he needed to give them a reason to have faith in him.

The bard continued forward, finishing the song that paid tribute to Adrinai's heritage until him and his opponent were 15 feet apart. Every note flowed with determination, the violin choosing to deliver a battle shout of it's own as it's master approached.

The final note was thrown into the air...

The note wasn't really high or low but trailed off with a soft and warm finish.

At that moment the bard twirled his violin so that the main bulk of the instrument was above his left hand, the instrument slightly above chest level and slightly in front of him.

Now they were 10 feet apart, the bow was 5 feet in length (1 foot handle, the rest was 4 feet) and was raised in front of him in a similar fashion a fencer would brandish their sword. The length of the object was bladed, ending in a large metal spike and like similar weapons made it perfect for thrusting.

The bard kept his feet balanced, right foot in front of left and his body turned slightly to the side so it wasn't entirely squared to his opponent.

"A performer must always be ready for his audience!" he shouted before tapping his right foot on the ground and poking the metal spike that adorned the end of his bow out slightly. The tail whipped behind in, apparently attempting to keep the feline musician balanced as he performed the action.

Saphen was feinting a thrust, using both the sound and the movement to hopefully make his opponent flinch or react in some way.

Saphen needed to study who he was fighting...and since magic was out of the question the only other thing he could do was hope for a reaction.

Even something minor could teach the bard something important...possibly something life saving.

Allegro: Brisk or Rapid "My head is bloody, but unbowed."

Plant Locations Wrote:

Agave-Right, Flytrap-Left, Vine- Torso, Sundew- Right leg

{1}

There we went... getting so close, Saphen was compelled to prepare himself, by introducing what was the equivalent of a rapier and a blunt main gauche.

And since Miranda had a compelling reason to stop by way of weapon brandishing and a lack of wish to get stabbed by a surprisingly sharp bow, she did indeed stop. Considering the man's weaponry and stance, she quickly came to the conclusion that she was in his lunging area. However, it was fine because five feet was a distance enough that allowed her to see if Saphen was coming, and about which general direction he should be attacking... unless he had a style that thrust such prediction out of the window.

"...Eh."

Miranda shrugged both of her shoulders and shook herself, as if she were trying to amp herself up for the battle. Just shaking it all lose, y'know? Well, after the three seconds needed to do that, she put both of her hands up in the air before her, kinda like if Saphen had breasts and he were anticipating the grabbing of those mammary glands with grabby hands. Her hands were rather near her body, though... they were only about a foot away from her own chest, with the right ever so slightly forward.

In fact, her reapproach would have her leading with her right, in that it would be the lowest of two shoulders and most forward of two hands.

The plan was the same... watch for what Saphen was doing. Otherwise, walk to him and slap him. She had to keep in mind his range with the weapons, though... he had options that she hadn't, but would he use them?

Yes, yes, yes, Miranda was approaching things rather slowly, and she knew it, and she knew the Judges would see that her opening to this fight consisted of walking, stopping to blink, and walking again. But hey, that was Miranda's MO so be quiet. There was no reason to rush into things right off the bat, not when the bard had yet to really show anything outside of his unique weaponry. Not that she planned to allow Saphen a terribly long time to display his fighting ability.

[2]

Saphen Wrote:

"Taking your time..."

"...?"

Saphen Wrote:

"I see..."

"..."

It really took about that long for Miranda to realize that Saphen was talking.

...No, no, that was wrong. It was instantly noticed when Saphen spoke, her ears picking up his voice from about five feet, over the relative silence (unless that second airship was currently crashing). However, she was thinking of other things... subconscious, quick, on-the-fly-and-cuff calculations of distance and speed and wind (for some reason); wondering why her opponent was wearing that particular garb; wondering exactly how much it might cost to get a sweet bow like that and what type of animal hair might be used in it (horse was so 19XX), and importantly; if Saphen lowered his arm to stab and thrust, would she still see it?

Of course, for the subconsciousness of it all, the representations came as a mathematical formula she knew nothing about... random letters and numbers dividing other nonsensical letters and numbers; a mental shrug; the faintest thought that Saphen might actually be a cat-type; a few dollar signs and a cash register jingling as Saphen plucked hair from his own cat-head, and the thought that if he came low, she'd be winging it.

The first phrase, acknowledging Miranda's pacing the battle's beginning, elicited a brow raise as it became that thing that Miranda had to suddenly focus on.

The second couple of words made the half-curious expression fall immediately as she realized, with all the other evidence given with his airs and previous statement in Saphen called himself a performer, that this guy was talking kinda enjoyed talking. And you know what, that was normally very fine because you couldn't be a live performer and have horrible stage presence, else nobody would care what you'd have to say because you were horrible at saying it.

However, this wasn't a street corner, and Miranda wasn't walking over to listen to him play, sing, or weave a fanciful tale. This was a battlefield where Saphen had feinted at Miranda who stalled at ~6 feet away (who then took the time to wait and see if Saphen would rush her with the huge three-second stall) before she proceeded forward once more... just before Saphen decided to speak to her.

Saphen Wrote:

...well in--

Six feet was an interesting bit of a gap to rush... but it was at that moment that Miranda pushed off the balls of her feet to dash. Two steps were all she needed... if that.

Her left foot stepped forward and her center of gravity dropped slightly as she leaned forward while bending her knees. Her arms began to fall with her... at this point, she was watching for Saphen panicking and swinging his sword or instrument at her head or body.

Her right foot stepped forward and she would be about... a foot away. Well within weapon distance (perhaps so much within that they might be ineffectual), and easily within the distance needed to lovingly caress Saphen's cheek.

However. And pay attention to this part, because it's important.

Arm position as it was, it would take little thought to move her right arm up or down a few decisive inches, just enough that the sword wouldn't be slashing through face, neck, or chest, and the instrument/weapon would hit solid bracer. If he swung the instrument, well the same few inches would be moved with the appropriate arm, and hopefully there wasn't anything like powder waiting in the violin's body. (The lack of such trailing out of the f-holes when Saphen twirled it and prepared himself gave her subconscious hope, though.)

In the case of him stabbing, both arms would be employed together, acting as a wall of armored limbs.

If Saphen's (possible) retreat came with a weapon attack, then she was going to block. And with her momentum, push him over reeeeally hard. There was priority on closing the distance safely, and only when that was done would she attack. Most other attacks and such would not be factored in, or wouldn't change things too much. If Saphen decided to kick at her... well he did have to kick pretty hard to get sand up in her face, but if he planned on throwing a rock and stabbing her, then he couldn't dedicate himself to that attack too much, else by the time his leg was down from the kick, she might've backed up, and simply been wiser rather than injured.

If he tripped... then Miranda was going to see him falling back and skid to a halt and see where he was about to kick or stab her.

Plans change on the fly and things were subject to change, and it's truly impossibly to be absolutely prepared for every scenario, but let's go with that "Saphen's kicking softly, so it'll do a lot to annoy her, but relatively little to stop her" thing because Miranda, despite looking sleepy and unaffected by being here in a fight, was fully aware of things going on and knew how to surprise people with her rushing forward unannounced.

(Deep breath.)

...But for the purposes of getting things done, and keeping in mind that Miranda was moving to interrupt Saphen before he could do much thinking about retreat or counter or "stay the hell away from me" slashes and thrusts, let's go with the idea that Saphen is still well within range, not falling over, and enough of the planets are aligned that Saphen is truly surprised at how quickly the big lady was able to rush the gap (and she did it often, so it was indeed rather fast). Her left arm would straighten, pushing against Saphen's chest just to get him unsteady, leaning back a bit. Simultaneously, Miranda's right arm crossed her chest and face, open hand cocked back for optimum pimptitude.

Not a second after Saphen was pushed back, the coiled arm, that mighty right limb that held so much tension in it, the hemoglobin could be seen flowing through each sinewy inch beneath downy hair and skin textured like the proper rough of a fighter... that right hand that seemed to extend as far back and high as the watching airship and farther to part Heaven and separate the sunlight to create a shadow as deep and fearsome as Hell...

When that right hand was snapped outward, the molecules creating molecules cried and leapt out of the way of the space between the right hand and Saphen's right cheek, that only a void existed. Miranda's hand may as well have created a contrail, for how sharp and fast the angle had become.

The wrist snapped outward at the very last split second, at the very last instance possible for the maximum result. Years later, scientists of every field and pimps of every ho would be watching this tape and making mockup diagrams, 3-D renderings and simulations, throwing about calculation after equation and passin' the weed and not lovin' no bitches to try and understand exactly how...

S M A C K

...how did she hit him so goddamned hard?

"GETRIGHT™!!!

[Track 03]

The plan was...Ineffective.

Sure enough his opponent began to move forward, but with his eyes never wavering he had a general idea of what was coming. The much larger opponent was going to steam roll him if he didn't act fast.

This doggy dog world was not kind to him at the moment as his opponent wasn't even generous enough to let him finish speaking let alone begin an action. Luckily for the musician though, years of study allowed him to be less caught off guard then his opponent might expect.

Skills Wrote:

Sight Reading (Passive): Due to Saphen's many years of music study the bard is able to process thoughts faster and with more clarity than your average person. While extremely heated situations will make him think slower (like anyone else would) Saphen's thought process is overall faster than your average person.

As her first step neared completion one thought crossed his mind before he began to react.

Exit...Stage right!

With the nimbleness of a cartoon cat the bard prepared to evade her with the best of his ability. With his only two reasonable advantages in this battle being range with a weapon and (maybe) speed he had to attempt to beat her at the latter.

At this point Miranda was preparing her second step, her entire form seemingly filled with power and malice as the tip of his right foot dug into the sand slightly. His left quickly followed before he took a low dive to his right, his right hand still gripping the bow as it hit the ground.

Pushing off this hand, he pulled himself into a roll, moving over his right shoulder before he would end up in a kneeling position just moments after she would pass him. The knuckles on his right hand were sore, having to hold the bow while he rolled so he couldn't open his hand to soften the motion but there was nothing he could do about it. He had barely enough time to react to her sudden aggression and the only solace he could find in the matter was that his white gloved buffered some of the pain.

Hopefully, at this point she would still be moving in the same direction, if her ability to turn was far superior to his ability to roll he would be in real trouble.

Letting the bow rest on the sand, his right hand quickly reached into his belt, pulling one of the throwing daggers out of it's holder.

Equipment Wrote:

Throwing Daggers: (25)

Each dagger was 8 inches in length and rested in a belt that was hidden beneath his shirt which rests over his waist slightly. The daggers were layered in special holders that rested on both sides of his body.

The bard had to prevent her from having an easy time advancing while he was kneeling so to do so he raised his right arm before launching one at where he assumed she would be when she attempted to turn or stop.

The metal spun, end over end, the edge of the weapon begging it's master to find sweet solace in the flesh of his opponent. With no real time to aim though the bard aimed for the center mass of her form, if she did not turn around in time that would be her back.

Not taking the time to see if his weapon would hit it's mark he quickly grabbed the handle of his bow and scrambled to a standing position.

She is fast and strong! I need to stop her momentum before it becomes a real problem.

Taking a moment to see what happened once he got to standing position he paused for a second. His right hand holding the bow, which dipped near the ground in front of his right foot, gripped the handle tighter. His left hand raised the violin back up to a defensive grip near his chest.

The bard could hear his own heavy breathing, his heart thumping a perfect tempo to match the percussion coming from his lungs. Later on the bard would note the wondrous music that was battle in his mind. The thunderous thumps of the strikes, the glorious high notes that only screams could hit, the flow of every muscle as it moved over the melody.

This was a dangerous game indeed....but one that was worth playing to feel alive.

Allegro: Brisk or Rapid "My head is bloody, but unbowed."

{3}

"!!"

"!?"

A step with the back foot (left) to the right, behind his lead foot (right) placed his body out of the line of attack-- even as the blade came spearing forward-- cutting a thin line right across his torso, and angling up slightly and cutting a sparking path across the metal of his left shoulder guard.

The boy was surprised that his retreating strike managed to catch anything of the opponent; his footwork and balance up until now had been excellent and he had managed to avoid the strike just a moment earlier as well; but it triggered a thought in the young swordsman's mind as he fell back into his guarded stance.

If his sword was too slow to strike where Vahn was, then he would need to strike where Vahn was going to be - the moment that the Murmilian committed to an attack was also an opportunity to strike at him... all it would take would be--

--Guts.

He would have advanced after Anson, not willing to allow the youngster to escape his own measure; leading foot raising off the ground slightly and stepping forward, heel hitting first--

He had barely even dropped back into that stance before the boy threw himself forward again on that rear leg like a coiled spring; sliding his forward leg out across the deck beneath him as he lunged through the distance he had just created between the two of them - it was no more than three steps of distance, something he could cover in one long stride if he acted the moment that Vahn advanced to give chase.

At the same time his left arm lowered by a few inches at the hilt, falling to shoulder level as his high guard lowered to create an opening at the left side of his head. It was brief, only lasting for a moment as Anson shifted the orientation of his blade and easily seen as a gap in his stance's defense while he prepared to thrust again as he dashed in-- but if Vahn took the bait the young swordsman would be more than ready to ward away the rapier from underneath. If he did not, Anson would attack the swordsman's offending arm directly; turning his sword more vertically and swinging to the left (towards Vahn's back, as his right side faces the enemy) to swat at his opponent's forearm in order to break his guard.

There was no sense in feinting an attack, he had never intended to perform a follow-up strike with the sword. The young swordsman had only wanted his path cleared of anything that might get in his way. Attack and defense as one... he would be too slow in either if he couldn't combine them.

'You're open--

--here!!'

Anson's single step landed hard upon the deck full-on in front of Vahn; the sole of his shoe scraping by two inches further from his momentum after his foot came down upon the drops of his own blood that had just been spilled. His heel slid out leaving a read smear upon the deck board in its wake, his leg stiffened and thrust back in the direction it had come as the boy's back leg drifted a centimeter above the deck in a quarter-circle to bring it behind him for balance, his hips turned counterclockwise with the motion, he grit his teeth and--

"..."

"ORA!"

-- would slam his bleeding fist into the line of red running across the Murmilion's chest with a fierce kiai. Vahn had been keeping his feet moving in line so that he could quickly attack, retreat, or change direction; but it also meant that striking him at an opposing angle would throw his upper body out of balance and force him to stumble back for a single step.

It meant that for the time of a single step, he would not be able to use his footwork to escape again.

It meant there would be an opening.

TIMER 11:30

Adrinai Telasai Wrote:

TIME PARADOX FIGHT 3, GO!

He picked up his hammer, readied his shield, and made his way over to the final members of the other team, who were near the crashed airship. He pointed the striking end of the hammer at Silver.

The elven Paladin's hammer was pointing at Silver's upturned rear, to be precise, as his head was buried in the dirt. His dismounting of the crashed vessel via violent ejection hadn't been as graceful as his comrades. He had been thrown from the ship and cartoonishly face-planted on the ground, causing his head to become lodged in it, with his body sticking up into the air.

Wait a sec, hadn't two fights already happened? How the hell could he breathe?

Oh well, it didn't matter. After a short fit of frantic squirming, Silver had managed to remove his head, completely covered in dust/sand/whatever, and pull himself back into a sitting position. Coughing loudly, he shook and patted his head, assessing the damage while trying to clean it off.

"Ack... Damn, I really need to talk to my travel agent..."

Adrinai Telasai Wrote:

"You there! I am Adrinai Telasai. I must ask you, do you consider yourself to be a just man?"

"Huh?"

Now that was an odd question. Silver looked around confused for a moment, before spinning around completely to find the one who had asked behind him. With a smirk he would motion to himself with his thumb.

"Me? Of course! I'm the justest!"

Getting a good look at the man... er, elf... that would be his opponent, Silver quickly became unamused.

"Jeez, armor AND a shield? You're worse that the last guy! What're we gonna have to fight next? A TANK? Well, at least you probably won't turn into a dragon on me... I don't think elves can do that... "

The placement of the head, when lying in guard, and in seeking measure, is then just and convenient when it makes one straight line together with the sword; because in this manner the eyes will see all the stillnesses and movements of the sword and of the body of the adversary, and will recognize immediately the parts that have to be offended and defended; the head, being posted on the said parts, is therefore able to cast all the visual rays in a straight line, which they could not do if the head were borne higher or lower, so that the rays could not radiate from every side, and thus they would not be quick to seize or flee the tempo."

Capoferro, Gran Simulacro, Chapter VI.62

Saphen's unseen gaze watched as his opponent wrenched the dagger from it's newly found home. He could see the focus in Miranda's movements rather than her eyes, which he never looked at to begin with. This one was a professional fighter, stalker, every movement told him that she had done this thousands of times before. Saphen needed to find a way to disable her with out getting trapped in her expert grasp...

I need to strike...but where?

Turning his body back into fighting stance, his bow raised once more, pointed at his adversary...his equal....his...

Enemy!!!!!!

Now Playing: Conflict

Powerful music flooded his mind, fortifying his resolve against this much larger and more powerful opponent.

This was the person attempting to stop their transition to the next round, seeking to silence this musician before another Sonata could be played. No, he could not let such a thing happen...not when he had others relying on him.

There was no growl, nor scream, nor thunderous step that could silence the raging instruments that spoke to him.

They told him that this woman was his sworn and bitter enemy and she needed to be dealt with in order to move on. Survival was required and though in reality it was more of an emotional impact then a clear thought it resulted in the same issue.

Conflict...adrenaline was rushing through his form as she charged him and the simplest response would be to stab the tip of his weapon straight through her skull. Punishing the low charging stance with a single and most deadly blow...

But being a man principal and also by regulations of the tournament he could not do such a thing.

You try to tell me...you love life

So as his opponent charged him, leading with her left arm, Saphen quickly devised a different method.

Then find another way...to kill life

Side stepping to his right as she drew into striking distance Saphen would thrust the tip of his weapon into her leading arm, between her wrist and elbow. If successful, Saphen push off his weapon to assist his motion to move out of her line of assault but that was not all. His left hand, gripping his violin as it were, would strike the metal reinforced waist into his own weapon. Striking the blade a foot above the handle as he wrenched his weapon from her flesh, armor, or where ever it was captured.

What possible reason would he have for doing this? I shall tell you!

In order to prevent the woman from getting a good grip on the blade (if that was her attempt) he struck the blade, causing it to shake violently as he pulled it out. With a sharp exhale of air he clashed the two objects he would wrench it from what ever area it had penetrated. The blade would be whipped down slightly, causing his right arm to shoot downward with a sudden jolt through his body. The tip of the weapon scratching the ground briefly before he could raise it again in defiance against his opponent.

Muscles would ache as he pushed off what seemed to be one giant rock made of flesh. But there was no time to think of pain as he reformed his stance, taking a few steps back after the strike and dodge. He had to keep moving as well for if he faltered for even a moment...she would be on top of him.

And in this particular situation...yes...it was a bad idea.

Allegro: Brisk or Rapid "My head is bloody, but unbowed."

{4}

Now... to his shifting directions, she started skidding to a halt... naturally, to pursue him. As he went to his right-- her left, Miranda's right foot was thrown outward so that when she twisted her hips to her left, she could be facing him much better and move much more quickly. Turning 101.

His stabbing the space between the left wrist and elbow would be successful... unblocked, undodged, all that good stuff. Miranda absolutely did not try to stop Saphen from thrusting at her... and Saphen absolutely did strike armor. That's why she wore the bracers, besides the links to her Medium... links she couldn't exploit now, though it was perfectly fine.

However, unless his bow's natural properties allowed it to stab into mithril well enough to be sticking out, then he was continuing with a violin swing on a weapon that was going to fall anyway. This was important because the attack on the blade shouldn't've been whipped down slightly. With her body or armor never having hold of it, and thus that much less resistance on the end that would have slowed the tip's fall, Saphen's blade to shoot down considerably.

And Miranda held off her advance just enough to see that happen (well, she was aware that the violin was coming down, and if she stepped up, Saphen might've thought it a great idea to switch targets and hit her in the face with it)... and while Saphen was either recovering from the shock of his blade going twice as low than it should have, or as he was just finishing backing up... Miranda was on him.

Such a timing could be stated because if the violin were down as well as the bow (whether or not Saphen was actually surprised at the bow dropping more... or if it dropped more at all, who knows), then Saphen was crossing his body, both arms to the left. She aimed to get in before he could properly uncross himself... and stab him in the left shoulder with the throwing knife.

It didn't stop there... or Miranda didn't stop there. At a distance so close and using momentum she had from the small chase after turning, Miranda jumped up into Saphen's face that her arms could wrap around Saphen's upper arms. Mashing his face between her breasts, Miranda threw ~285 lbs at Saphen's upper body and, as things tend to happen, knocked him to the ground.

Saphen was going to break Miranda's fall, so the impact wouldn't be TOO bad. Such a thing, not being worried about injury on the way down, allowed Miranda to start squeezing immediately with her whole body, bearwulfhugging Saphen with everything she could put into it.

Resistance was expected, but she had something in mind for that.

[Track 05]

It splattered out, even as the sound of flesh on flesh smacked wetly between both bodies. "Ghhhk--!" Anson had driven his injured hand into Vahn's own wounded chest, causing him to nearly bite down and swallow his own tongue from the sharpness of that pain.

Taking every ounce of self control to keep that fearsome power which lurked within his blood from bursting forth-- knowing full well that the last thing he needed to see was the youth engulfed in swathe of blackened flames; he fought a raging battle of willpower.

Blood seemed to trickle on down from his clenched teeth, even as his lead foot landed back on the ground-- back foot sliding back a bit before halting.

The reason for this was his offhand (left) which now gripped Anson's right forearm tightly, holding him in close after the punch had been thrown, and not allowing the youngster to pull back. "Nice one--"

As Anson had lunged in, Vahn had been in the motion of entering a broad ward as he advanced-- but interrupted in that-- his Fang (lead arm in the process of lowering), would meet Anson's swinging blade in a short clash of sparks-- as the offending blade would be swept to the outside (Vahn's right).

Left hand gripping even tighter than before now, the veins on that hand standing out for a second "--But you sacrificed a bit much--" as his heart skipped a beat.

His lead hand had been turned over so the knuckles were facing forward, palm to the outside in a sweeping manner with his elbow pointing up. The key motion in this was that once contact had been made with the Fang-- Anson's sword was pivot swept out of the way, not pushed down.

This meant that in the aftermath of the punch, Anson's right arm would be held and trapped in tight proximity to Vahn's body-- and his Fang was right up in the high outside (sword hand side above the waist) and low outside (sword hand side below the waist) of Anson's body, tip pointing downward as a result of the seconde parry.

"DON'T YOU THINK?!" His right eye opened up, even as he laid the length of his blade across Anson's open body, pushing it up and across with terrifying pressure to cause bleeding from the sharp edges of his Fang.

TIMER 11:00

Supreme Jerk Commander Wrote:

Somewhere, 10 miles above the Lamentian plains... (shortly before the start of the 2nd fight.)

It arrived.

The skies spat flames as the unbelievably massive star ship penetrated the clouds. It was almost 2 thousand meters long and about half that in width. The ship was somewhat bulky, lacking the graceful curves and ridges one would come to expect from a futuristic spaceship. Its silvery hull glistened in the afternoon sun as it took an up an ominous position, becoming part of the Lamentian backdrop.

It was too far off to actually disturb the occurrences below, but if one were to look skyward, it would be very noticeable.

And there it hovered like a space-faring sentinel, watching.

Waiting. As the massive burning distortion dropped through the clouds, the Lamentian control went haywire with reports of a massive floating object descending towards the battle area. While it was still high above the city, ten miles was pretty close considering the Lamentian guns had far more range than that.

As the ship broke through the clouds, the "Commander" would receive a stern message.

Quote: "Unknown vessel, this is Lamentian Strike Command. You are flying over restricted airspace without clearance. Please leave the area and retreat to a distance of fifty miles.

I repeat, you are flying over restricted airspace. Please move your vessel to a distance of at least 50 miles outside of the city and state your intentions."

Silver's eyes would widen. He'd honestly expected a Paladin to take such a a blow head on. Maybe he was able to read the intent much better than he had thought.

Interesting.

As his foot was deflected, he would manage a sloppy landing, his footing as bad to be expected. With no where to go, it was all he could to drop his right arm to take the brunt of the force from the hammer blow. Sure, it was painful as hell, but it was better than losing some ribs. One good hit wouldn't take his arm out... yet...

With already bad footing, he would be sent staggering back a step as he tried to recover.

"Heh! That didn't even spook you a little?!"

He would spin half way around on the ball of his left foot, moving with the force of the hammer, and plant his his right foot firmly behind him, halting his movement, and storing the kinetic energy like a spring. Silver's left arm would come up and across in defense as he leaned back, should Adrinai try to follow up with a back swing, and pulled back his right, balling the fist. He would then rocket back forward, twisting his torso to the left pushing off that coiled right leg, and hurl his right fist (on the injured arm, mind you) forward in a strong right straight, directly back at his Elven opponent.

16

A clean hit. Better than expected.

As Adrinai recovered from the blow, and stepped forward to counter, if he find Silver still there, in a left forward stance grinning wickedly. The would be no block or dodge. It wasn't Silver's style. He was an offensive powerhouse, HoH's premiere rush-down character. There was no stopping or backing up.

The right arm wouldn't even fully retract as the left came back up, ready to catch or block the hammer again. When it didn't come, and the Elven Paladin's right shoulder began to move, Silver would simply bend his right arm to strike with his elbow straight sideways to intercept the side of the shield. There would be a slight wince visible on his face as metal met bone, but like Muay Thai, Kyonuske-Ryu involved elbow and knee conditioning for striking, so he was prepared for such a counter. The only problem was, that arm was already hurt, and it didn't look like it was gonna stop anytime soon...

Pushing back the shield as he stepped in on his right foot to shorten the small gap between them, he would whip the already extended right elbow across, aiming for the left side of Adrinai's face.

15

As Silver stopped the shield, Adrinai allowed the hammer to slip from his grasp and drop to the ground. The shield was his primary defense, and with it neutralized he would be a sitting duck if he stuck to conventions. He wasn't going to allow that to happen.

-clank!-

Instead of the side of his face, Silver's twice-injured arm would receive another shock as it struck Adrinai's steel right bracer. Without the hammer to weigh down his right hand, Adrinai had twisted as his shield had been pushed back and used that motion to bring his arm across quickly enough to intercept the attack. He then pushed out with that arm, looking to backhand Silver in the jaw with his gauntlet. It wouldn't cause much damage with such a short wind-up, but the goal was merely to stun him just long enough to allow Adrinai a quick backstep out of Silver's optimal range.

If only I could access the Light, I could use my sword and end this before it begins!

[4/17]

Saphen cursed beneath his breath as his violin clashed against the metal bow he held so dear to him. The sounds of scraping metal foreshadowing the pain that was about to mark his invisible face.

One mistake...

That was all it took, the sudden sharp pain of metal biting flesh almost causing him to grind his teeth in sheer pain. But this musician would not give his opponent the satisfaction of a yelp...not yet anyways. As the blade forced blood to freely flow down his beautiful regalia, causing his left glove to stain red he did the best he could to focus.

Originally the bow would have scraped the ground but instead the tip would literally bounce off the ground, lifting the weapon up in recoil as Miranda finished digging the dagger into his flesh.

Saphen's eyes lowered by reaction, feeling the weapon bounce off the ground when he suddenly saw it. There was an opening as his opponent prepared to jump, at the same moment his bow would be raising to waist level.

There was a part where Miranda's thigh protection ended, slightly below the hip.

Opponent's Gear Wrote:

half-greaves over separate leather-looking leggings (they looked like thigh boots, without any part below the ankle)

The area was small but as his opponent bent her legs slightly it became a much easier target. Grunting through the pain, adrenaline becoming his new source of fuel, Saphen lunged the point of his bow into her right thigh. Using all of his weight to push on the weapon the bow would go through her thigh completely if nothing stopped it.

The pain from his left shoulder caused him to exhale sharply as he leaped into the thrusting stab. Using the momentum of the thrust Saphen would push off with his feet with all he had in him. Leaping low through the small opening her arm left (being both a larger foe and stabbing him in the shoulder) and landing roughly on the ground behind her. Saphen's body would bump into her side slightly, causing the small flight to be a turbulent one, his body turning sideways. This was mainly due to her forward momentum and much larger weight causing him to take a glancing hit as he leaped for the opening. At that moment, Saphen finally understood what it felt like to play an odd game they called football.

Luckily for him momentum would cause him to land on his back, barely break falling with his right arm but it was then that his opponent would hear truly majestic sound.

Aaaarrrrggghhh! Saphen screamed in pain as the dagger shook free from impact if it was still lodged in his flesh.

Saphen had to pause to collect himself, crawling backwards slightly as he suddenly regained his barrings.

Move....damn it move!....I SAID MOVE DAMN IT!

The thoughts screaming in his mind as he forced himself to put pressure on his right arm. Now both arms were in pain as his gloved hand pushed against the ground, lifting him to his feet. Instinctively his right hand grabbed one of his daggers, sliding his fingers between the rings like a makeshift brass knuckles, the blade above the hand as the beat of his heart thumped in his head. The thumping of his heart reminded him how he learned to focus in music class long ago...how to listen to the beat to remember where he was in the music...he could use it here as well.

1...2...3...4...1...2...3...4...1...2...3...4...1...2...3...4...1...2...3...4...

Repeating the counts in his mind he reminded himself that he relinquished his blade for a great blow...he hoped that it would count... It was obvious by the heavy breathing that Saphen was in pain...but his resolve would not be destroyed unless he was...he swore it.

Allegro: Brisk or Rapid "My head is bloody, but unbowed."

{5}

Saphen Wrote:

One mistake...

One mistake, one reason. There only needed to be one for a skilled fighter to capitalize. For all of the planning, if the fighter left the opponent a single way out, if the opponent was skillful enough to see it or use it, then it would be used. The elimination of such mistakes literally meant the difference between life and death at times. But here, it would mean the difference between whether one bout was going in the W or L column.

HoH is life. The rest are just details.

Saphen Wrote:

"She is fast and strong! I need to stop her momentum before it becomes a real problem."

This is what he failed to do. Despite acknowledgment of it, Saphen failed to stop, or at least take into account, Miranda's momentum... the fact that she was not stopping. She hadn't allowed him to finish his introduction or mid-battle banter, which was absolutely harmless other than as a diversionary tactic. She definitely wouldn't pause to allow him time to think on things now.

Two stabs... one with four inches of blade (it would seem that just under half the knife was blade, the rest of it gripping area) and the other with (possibly) four feet of it, if Saphen was aiming to jam the entire length into her thigh.

...Or was it two? More on this in a bit.

Running forward to meet Saphen before he could stance up, her arm was out and her fist was down, the blade sinking into his shoulder. Given Miranda's momentum pushing her body forward, it took an incredibly small amount of time to plunge four inches of knife within his shoulder. However, in the face of things to come, that small note of effortlessness was nothing and meaningless, and a little overkill, when standing against Saphen's response to being stabbed.

Saphen Wrote:

As the blade forced blood to freely flow down his beautiful regalia, causing his left glove to stain red he did the best he could to focus.

Assuming Miranda hadn't hit a major artery (she wasn't aiming to... was there even one up there? Anyway, while she hadn't the pinpoint knowledge of veins and ability to name them, she knew where to hit to kill.. and in the same breath, knew where not to hit to not kill by things such as exsanguination), or Saphen's heart wasn't racing a literal mile a minute... it would take a few seconds for the blood to reach his glove, even if he weren't wearing a shirt at all. In fact, benefit of the doubt given, just give the blood one second to race downward...

But of course, remembering momentum, even that would be too late.

Saphen's attack was coming after whatever time it took for his blood, having to get through cloth, to reach his glove.

...Needless to say, and with no other embellishment, Miranda was now wulfhugging Saphen, had been doing it, and would continue to do it.

So was he really stabbing into Miranda's leg... or was the idea passing in his head, the thought manifesting and probability being calculated... the scene happening only in Saphen's mind as he was having his body and breath crushed by Miranda, who was steadily reinforcing and tightening the grip around his body? Holding her arms about and above her bracers to provide a good lock, and her arms slowly settled to his elbows, greatly restricting arm movement as a whole. "Slowly," as to not provide weakness in the hold; she was basically tightly rubbing down the arms... good deal of friction to prove that she, above all, was holding Saphen hard and fast.

So hard was she holding, so much was she flexing that she began to sweat as her muscles bulged.

Of course, the variable was if Saphen's wearing full-arm gloves, stylish versions of safety gloves that had an upper hem at the arm pit. Still... blood soaking through cloth and all... it wouldn't change the end result.

[Track 06]

Flesh and Blood

"--!"

He felt the pressure on his Fang, even as he watched the boy actually bite down and hold it at bay. Goddamn-- If he had normal motor control of his right arm, he would have probably just pushed his arm forward, stabbing him right through the cheek-- but as it was, it took everything he had to try and pull back, even as the fatigue in holding his arm caught up with.

"NNNGHH!" Is it that important to you?!

To die here and now because your so stubborn!! His mind screamed out at Anson, even as he calmly told himself back that he had no room to talk.

Had it not been for all the damn blood everywhere, Anson would not have been able to move his right hand that much-- but alas, Vahn found his world tumbling as he was tossed to the side, teeth gritting as the left side of his face smacked against the deck. His right arm hit, and the sensation against the arm nearly caused him to release the Fang, but his bloodied fingers curled tightly...

He found himself staring up now, with Anson having reversed their positions. How--?!

Tenacious.

With the maneuver that Anson had pulled, the boy's grievous wound across his body would surely just get strained once more, making Vahn wonder just how close to passing out his opponent was; not to mention making him realize just how much he needed to wrap this up now or never.

Anson's blade landed in such a way as to practically pin Vahn underneath it, the bottom edge dangerously close to simply lopping his head off. OF ALL THE--- His right eye widened, even as the fingers of his left hand spread wide, then grasped as best they could against the length of blade that started out from the hilt, trying to keep it from coming down on him-- fighting to maintain that position while contending with his opponent's right hand upon his left arm.

This little bit..is all I can manage---but now...you have to choose...your life or this match...

The point of his Fang would press right up against Anson's exposed left side, needing only so much as a circular movement of the wrist to bring it in line fully and upwards into the body. "Ho..w...about..it..?" He smirked through a mouthful of blood even as he waited for the youngster to decide.

TIMER 8:00

"....Let go..."

The words came out softly, partly because of the effort it took in speaking and partly because of how much it hurt to speak to begin with at this point. The tip of his Fang tapped just once against Anson's forehead.

What have I gotten myself into...now... The tip of the blade would rest there for a second, before sliding off and away, just lightly grazing the skin, even as he felt the dead weight of his right arm fall to his side. The blood loss was too much, and the shock of anemia was setting in. ..mixing up with someone like you...

The last thing he wanted was to fail to save someone from a precipice of darkness. He half-wondered what the boy's 'Order' would think of him now...bloodied as he was.....Victor...you weren't much different were you? I couldn't save you then though...I had no idea...but at least with this...

...with this...

He had enough left in him to stave off the collapse of Anson's blade against his neck; that bloodied left hand still holding firm. Hell, even if Anson just about collapsed atop of him at this point from exhaustion, Vahn would most likely be alright in the end at this point.

It was all he could manage to do however, unable to move any longer and just wanting to close his eye and sleep. "...You really did it...didn't you."

TIMER 7:00

Silver's right forearm would collide with metal bracer, much lower down the arm than he had intended a blow to land, sending another quick shot of pain through it, this time to the bone. The elf's quick counter was crafty. Silver's surely hadn't expected him to give up his weapon so quickly or readily. It seemed his opponent was the one being forced to adapt.

Good.

CRACK!

"HRK!"

The gauntlet adorned hand snapped back across, striking cleanly in the jaw. His left hand was already out, and he was too close for an effective block or counter. Not a terribly heavy blow, but it was enough to send Silver's head spinning to the side, causing him to reel back from the blow. His left foot would come back to allow him to catch and steady himself, while his opponent was allowed him momentary reprieve.

Leaning back forward, with that wicked grin still on his face, Silver's right hand would come up to manually adjust his jaw, checking for any dislocation or dislodged teeth. Everything seemed in order. Wiping a trickle of blood from the side of his mouth with his thumb, he would return to the ready.

"Heh. Not bad."

He still stood over his opponent's discarded weapon. What would he do now?

14

TIMER 6:47.3

Meanwhile, 5 miles above the plains...

"Sir, we have an incoming transmission!"

The Commander's eyes shifted from the viewscreen over to the crewman who was studying the communications console.

"From...?" The Commander wasn't expecting any visitors, and he had already settled the "dispute" with the news station some time ago.

"From Lament, the nearby town."

The Commander was genuinely intrigued.

"Let it thorough."

Incoming Transmission Wrote:

Quote: "Unknown vessel, this is Lamentian Strike Command. You are flying over restricted airspace without clearance. Please leave the area and retreat to a distance of fifty miles.

I repeat, you are flying over restricted airspace. Please move your vessel to a distance of at least 50 miles outside of the city and state your intentions."

All eyes fell upon the helmeted figure as the crew awaited his next command.

"Ensign, open a communications channel with this "Lamentian Strike Command"."

"Aye sir."

"Strike Command, this is The Commander of the CIS Victory. On behalf of this ship and her crew I extend our most sincere of welcomes. Rest assured that you are in no threat and hostilities are not warranted. We are merely here for observational purposes. Unfortunately, we cannot comply with your request as this is an area of extreme significance and our research requires that we maintain close proximity to it. Our stay will not be indefinite, however. We plan to move out once the competition below has reached a conclusion."

No, he wasn't going to move his ship. Not without some serious persuasion.

Silver's pupils shrank as his wicked grinned widened. This was exactly what he wanted. The Elf, albeit lither and physically weaker, was meeting him head on. He wasn't hiding behind that shield. We was using it. That blood lust Vahn had felt in the dance club, that inescapable in inexplicable desire for battle that drove the both of them. The thrill of the fight he hadn't felt in so long. It was consuming him now. His boiling blood was pushing him to the breaking point, and it was all he could do to keep from bursting into brilliant white flame on the spot.

"ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA-!"

The thuds and thunks would give way to increasingly sickening sounding wet hits as Silver's knuckles bloodied. The front of the shield became splattered and bloodstained with fist marks as Silver worked his fists almost literally to the bone. But the Elf's resolve would pay off.

As another right came back and whipped out to strike true, the arm would have enough of this little exchange. From the large bruise by the hammer, to the shield stopping elbow, to the gauntlet-struck forearm, a sharp pain would resonate through Silver's right arm, causing it to waver and miss it's mark, being deflected by the shield bashing.

"HGHK!"

Damnit! My arm! I can't-!

12

Supreme Jerk Commander Wrote:

"Strike Command, this is The Commander of the CIS Victory. On behalf of this ship and her crew I extend our most sincere of welcomes. Rest assured that you are in no threat and hostilities are not warranted. We are merely here for observational purposes. Unfortunately, we cannot comply with your request as this is an area of extreme significance and our research requires that we maintain close proximity to it. Our stay will not be indefinite, however. We plan to move out once the competition below has reached a conclusion."

No, he wasn't going to move his ship. Not without some serious persuasion. Meanwhile, the Strike Command was busy with their retort. If the massive ship would not simply leave their airspace, then they would have to enact some form of protection to ensure their safety if they did indeed pose some sort of a threat...

Behind the city in the distance, through billowing clouds of smoke, a massive figure began to break through the fog of soot from the volcano. Its hull was as black as the darkened lava rock scattered around the base of the volcano and the plains themselves. Its engines burned red hot like the molten depths of the earth it seemed to have been birthed from as the white lettering spelling out "Obsidianus" along the side of its fore section came into view. This was the pride and joy of the Lamentian Guard. The massive airborne battleship, the flying fortress, bristling with powerful weaponry and massive artillery guns that dwarfed the guns of the central tower itself. It was the single most mighty weapon in Lament's arsenal, and it alone easily doubled Lament's striking power.

The ship's bridge was a buzz of activity as the massive vessel eased into a position in front of the city, almost staring down the other, much larger, vessel.

Well then, it would seem that if they will not be leaving, we'll be watching. Remember what happened the last time a massive airship showed up on our doorstep uninvited and unannounced. I want all weapons on standby in case that thing decides to become alot less friendly...

Colonel Nathanial Briggs sat in the command chair with various other officers hustling about, manning consoles and other panels to keep the massive ship flying and in peak condition. It was time to show a little defensive backbone.

Quote: Weaponry

Obsidianus Central Canon: 0% Charge

Obsidianus Rotary Canon: 0% Charge

Obsidianus Artillery Canon Turrets: 100%

Obsidianus Anti-Aircraft/Personnel Turrets: 100%

Obsidianus Omni-Missile Batteries: 100% Remaining

Statistics:

Obsidianus Anti-Magical Shielding: Inactive

Obsidianus Traditional Shielding: 100%

Obsidianus Ablative Hull Armor: 100%

Obsidianus Generator Integrity: [o] [o] [o] [o] [-] [-]

Obsidianus Structural Integrity: 100%

“Uhh… sir.” The Ensign sounded apprehensive as he read the sensors.

“What is it, now Ensign?”

“We’ve got a new contact on scanners… and it’s pretty large.”

“Hmmm… Bring it up on the viewscreen.”

It was done. The Commander found himself staring at a ship of impressive design. He clasped his hands in front of him and leaned towards the screen.

“Interesting…”

“Orders, sir?” Again, the bridge looked upon their leader for guidance.

“Run a full scan on the vessel.”

“Aye sir.”

If the Obsidianus had the necessary equipment, its systems would be able to detect the signals coming from the Victory in their attempt at a systems scan.

“Shall I alert the ship to code red?”

“No, Ensign. There’s no need to be hasty, here.” His brown eyes skimmed across the scan readouts that began scrolling along his screen. There was nothing of real use since he had no records of such a ship in his database. The only thing he got out of the scans was that whatever this thing was, it had a hefty energy source and shielding along with rough approximations of its external dimensions. “It looks roughly the size of a battleship class vessel… And judging from the amount of hard points along its hull, it should have just about the firepower. Engaging it at this range would not be the best of ideas.”

“Aye sir, so what do you propose we do?”

“Open communications with the ship.”

“Aye sir.”

The hail was sent.

“That’s a mighty fine vessel you’ve got there, are you taking her out for a cruise?

CIS Victory Combat Status Wrote:

Siege batteries: Standby

FLAK Turrets: Standby

Forward Batteries: Standby

Shields: 50%

Hull Integrity: 100%

Hangers:

Fighter Drones 0/200 Deployed

Bomber Drones 0/75 Deployed

The Commander had hoped that by keeping his ship in standby mode, he'd further reinforce his claims of non-hostility.

The memory of the thunderous strike of her body crashing into him as he flew to the ground chimed in his head as he gathered his senses. If one could call it that at all, flight sounding like the majestic motions of a Song bird and not the crashing and chaotic fall of a Song man.

Shaking the sensation off, his mind screaming at him to get up as he crawled to a kneeling position. His left knee quivering slightly as it carried the bulk of his weight, the shock still with him slightly.

The warm feeling of blood soaking his left shoulder, it was as if the life essence of his body was trying to keep him from going cold in the horrors of combat. Trying to tell him to turn back, that this battle could not be won and this would have been fine if he was alone but he wasn't.

This Moment Mattered...

Now Playing: Nothing Else Matters

Did it work? Saphen wasn't entirely sure after the brief thought passed. The bard remembered the scent of blood, the sound of splitting flesh before he was hit abruptly by Miranda's large form. The bard had been counting on the strike to disable her motions at least a little, buying him time to stand...maybe cutting into tendons or flesh or anything he could imagine to slow her relentless assault!

The sharp pain of his gash throbbing forced him back to reality however, causing him to look up at his opponent.

Hours...minutes...seconds....time....time signature?

What was the time signature of this battle?

That was all the time he may have to react, she could be upon him right after the measure ended...it was as if the bar that marked it's end was the blade, gripped tightly by his opponent...ready to end his existence. Her teeth seething with the fury that wished to mark this as the day that the music...died.

With only a few seconds to recover the bard would only be able to kneel before she turned to assault him. If she could truly endure the pain of his weapon to turn and attack with the swiftness she had shown the entire battle he would have no guarantees. Well for him...couldn't gurantee an escape for himself...but there was something he could save...

Feeling the neck of the violin in his left hand he gripped it tightly despite the pain it caused in his shoulder. He could lose this battle...but he refused to let his instrument be crushed just because his weak human form wasn't strong enough to endure this mortal coil.

With a sudden grunt of pain the bard whipped his left hand back in one swift motion, the violin skidding across the dirt covered battle ground maybe ten feet behind him (he hoped it was far enough). At the same time his right hand as drawing up a throwing dagger, threading it through his fingers with the tip pointed at his opponent.

"Come on!" he yelled in agonized fury as his left had quickly returned, sliding a second dagger into his other hand. The blade reversed on this side, the metal blades appearing like the fierce claws of a lion as he awaited her charge if it wasn't happening already.

He wasn't sure if he could even stab with that arm but he had to try none the less. Arm quivering, the blade shaking in his grip as he awaited his fate. Every staggered breath marked a count passed, a moment closer to the climax of their glorious performance! Saphen had to finish the show despite his tiredness, his pain, his fears of more to come...he couldn't let the show end with out a dramatic finish!

Even with out his instrument he could still hear the music in his mind, reminding him to endure...reminding him to fight till he had nothing else...reminding him that...

Nothing else matters...

Allegro: Brisk or Rapid "My head is bloody, but unbowed."

{6}

The helmeted figure nodded.

"Greetings Colonel." The Commander was never one to give out his full name and rank, not even to his own crew. Some say that he never had one to begin with. "I do understand. And as I have told your command, the Victory and her crew are merely here for observational purposes. You have nothing to worry about."

Still, the crew remained uneasy. They were not used to staring down a potentially hostile vessel with their weapons down and shields partially charged. Yet, they were ever confident in The judgment of their commander.

"If you have any further concerns, please feel free to share them."

The ship never moved from its stationary position several miles out.

"Will do, Commander. It's been a pleasure."

The channel was closed and Colonel Briggs eased into his seat. Observational purposes eh? Observational purposes of what, he wondered... Either way, there was little he could do in his current state but watch, scan, and wait. Thus, he did all of the above.

"Private, keep an eye on them. I'll be in my quarters if needed."

"Yes, Sir."

Briggs continued to watch the screen silently after that, alone with his own thoughts as he retreated to his quarters.

"I wonder exactly what's going on here. It was a bit strange that the Noah Foundation contacted us on such short notice after all. I wonder if this "Order" business has something to do with all this..."

The Paladin had retrieved his hammer, but much to Silver's surprise, he dropped his shield. It seemed he was still up to the challenge.

Adrinai Telasai Wrote:

"Have at you!"

Cheesy. Just the way he liked it. With time running out, it was time for them both to give it their all. Do or die, sink or swim.

This guy... he's really turning out not so bad...

"YEAH! Let's go!"

For better or worse, Silver's legs were still in pretty good shape, much like the Elf's probably also were. Might as well make use of the good appendages you got left, right? He would rush in to meet the charge once more.

But it's over.

The viper-like Kyonuske-Ryu side of Silver's martial arts training would suddenly become apparent again as he closed the distance, and rather than try to stop that hammer with a block or beat it with a counter from weary arms, he would just make a sharp, quick leap directly up and forward off his right leg, and shooting out his left knee directly into his oncoming opponent. A simple, effective counter. And if it struck true, devastating. Ong Bak style.

With Silver's leg in the way after hurling himself in that close, Adrinai might strike it first, or with a little adjusting, Silver's side, cracking some ribs, but it would do little to derail him at this point.

"URRIYAA!"

Show me just how tough you are, Paladin!

10

Oh shenanigans.

He had assumed he'd think of something if Silver countered, but when the moment came the attack was so unexpected that he had nothing but a watered down curse to offer in response.

-crack!-

Adrinai was launched backwards by the knee striking his chin, his mithril crown flying off of his head. Unfortunately for the paladin, his hammer continued forward, wrenched from his grip by the sudden shock, to land in the dirt once more. Adrinai himself landed hard on the desert ground and rolled backwards before coming to a stop.

"Alright, that's it!"

His voice quivered slightly from the pain, and he held up a finger to indicate he needed a second.

"I have no shield. I have no weapon. I have no divine powers. I guess I'm hardly a paladin at the moment, am I?"

He reached down and unclasped his boots before slipping them off, and then pushed himself unsteadily to his feet. He then slid off his gauntlets, letting them lie in the dirt next to the steel boots. He felt the cold desert sand through his socks as he inspected the damage the knee had done with his fingers through the thin gloves that he wore inside of the gauntlets. The jaw was dislocated, and he gave a thin cry of pain as he adjusted it back into place.

Finally ready, stripped down to his basic clothes, bracers, and greaves, he took up a fighting stance. His left hand was held guarding low, his right hand held high, and his feet shuffled back and forth rapidly like a boxer.

"You faced the paladin. Now fight the Elf!"

Adrinai was unleashing Alay'kira, the Elven version of kickboxing.

"Bring it on!"

Phase 2: begin!

[9/17]

Of course, the ever-polite Silver let the Elf have his moment. It seemed that goofy grin never left his face as he was constantly being pleasantly surprised by this Paladin's attitude. It appeared they were all ZEAL this and HOLY that.

It was like some sort of metaphor that Silver had worn down the shield and armor of the Paladin to bring out the Elf underneath... or something...

"Alright! Now that really is what I'm talking about! Let's see the power of Elven Martial Arts!"

Silver would pound a fist into open palm in excitement... then quietly whimper from the pain in his knuckles.

"Itetete~"

Shaking his hands off, he would resume his fighting pose, mirroring the Elf's.

REBEL 2!

ACTION!

He would step in quickly, for once not just taking off into a full run. Still several feet away, he would spin on the ball of his right foot, and snap up his left leg into a series of two high side kicks in rapid succession. The first would be aimed low, at the side, as a feint, and then back up high once the arm dropped aiming to strike the head.

A lot of head shots by both parties today. Good thing these weren't Kumite rules.

"SEIYA!"

9

Silver's foot whipped across overhead, catching only air. Moving with the momentum of the kick, he would bring it back down, returning it to the dirt and leaving his back to the his opponent, but whipping his head around to keep an eye on him over his right shoulder.

"It's not over YET!"

Once both feet were back on the ground, Silver would lean forward and shoot out his right leg heel first, hoping to catch his opponent in the face again as he ducked down low.

But this guy was finally showing his elven agility. Adrinai was already in the air, managing to narrowly avoid the heel as he spun around completely over the length of Silver's leg, bringing his own heel down on Silver's now exposed back.

"GAH!"

Being on only one leg, Silver would stagger forward from the blow for several feet, before catching himself and whipping back around.

"Nice move! But it's time for the big finish!"

Silver would bring up both fists and rush back in, pulling his right back as he approached. It had come down to straight up boxing now. Trading blows as fast as they could before the sound of the buzzer would signal an end to their glorious battle.

Silver's right would rocket forward, aiming for the Elf's face after he'd long since recovered from his landing. If air could be seen, it would appear if it were swirling violently around Silver's fist, in a proud display of his fighting spirit.

THIS... THIS IS THE STRENGTH... OF MY RESOLVE!

8

For better or worse, this was what he wanted. He'd finally made the Elf realize what kind of fight he had been going for all along.

Adrinai... you actually turned out to be an opponent I could enjoy fighting. Thank you for making my first fight this year a memorable one. Whoever's fist lands first... At least we can say... it was without regrets!

Fade to white.

Round 2-3 End.

9