Strata

Strata - Battle on the Rooftops

Ancient port of the Barthavos Desert, located near the southernmost point of the Gaian Continent, nowadays one of the major cities in Gaia. Founded by refugees from the ravages of war. Infamous for its crime but well known for its large harbor and trade district. Though certain conflicts have caused a decline of Strata's former importance and wealth, it is still a magnificent sight. Coming from the sea and arriving in the harbor or from the desert entering through the grand Northern Portal every visitor agrees that in front of his eyes lies the "Beauty of the South". The town comes to life when the sun is sinking into the sea far in the west and the winds are ceasing to blow, lamps are lit all over the main places and roads, and the times for business other than that during the day has arrived. The rooftops of Strata provide for the most beautiful views of the city at sunset, but are some of the most dangerous. The tops (plural) of the city's buildings will be your battlefield. Streets are off-limits.

General - The rooftops are quite plentiful, as are the spaces between them...

Weapons - Nothing specific, but it's a busy market street, so there's plenty of stuff to break.

Natural Element Resource - None

Bonus Effects - Falling from a roof starts the ring-out timer. The ring out timer is extended for this match - you will have sixty seconds [six posts apiece, as in, 1/17 to 6/17, for example] to fight in the streets before making your way BACK to the rooftops. This resets the timer.

Popping up from behind Stephen, pulling herself up, Fayble dusted her gruff self off and stood up straight with her arms out to either side.

"Fabio! You made it!"

Strutting over, she gave him a rough pat on the back before putting her hands in her pockets to grab her amulets. Fastening then onto the bag of her gloves, the femme sighed and patted the little devices. Before long, she took in her surroundings and nodded a bit.

"Well this is better than poles." Tucking her thumbs under the hem of her pants, Fayble tipped about between her heels and toes. "Wayyyy better than poles.."

"Flying over Barthavos Desert. Altitude: thirty-thousand feet. Approaching the port of Strata. Ten minutes until drop off."

A deep rumble of contemplation emanated from deep within the Devil's chest as he listened to the load-master speak, his deep-set garnet hues lifting from the floor at his feet to regard the man first and then across from him to Bellanox Fatalis who busied herself with preparing for the jump. It seemed everything was in order; but he was concerned about whether or not Bellanox wanted to go through with this. This would mark her first HALO jump, and he didn't want her to freak out before, during, or after the fall. Shifting in his seat and rubbing his hands, Roen would fix the thick gloves upon them, fastening them securely to his wrists, then rise up and onto his booted feet. He, just like Bellanox and the load-master, were all wearing specialized olive-green jump-suits to combat the cold they would face in the high altitude.

"Equipment check." Listening to the load-master meant the difference between life and death. Respecting his authority was of the utmost importance. Fixing the straps of the pack upon his back and making sure the Death Throe was securely fastened to its top. Next he checked his altimeter, oxygen supply (which was located on his chest) and the straps of the mast he would wear during the fall. Everything seemed to be in order, or so he hoped. And every now and then, he would look at Bellanox, his head cocking to the side to get the load-master's attention to instruct the man to help her double check just in case. Ever protective of his bodyguard was the Darkened Devil - much like a fatherly figure. "Five minutes until drop off - commencing depressurization. Put on your masks."

Pursing his lips and lifting his mask to his face, Roen would turn the oxygen on and inhale deeply, hopefully watching Bellanox and the load-master do the same. "Approaching drop off point." Righting his mask and mildly irritated by it, the Devil would lift his hand and give the load-master a thumbs-up before rising up onto the tips of his toes and stretching. Rolling his shoulders blades and clearing his throat, the Devil would lift his hands up to his head and pull down his goggles, not being to help himself as he smirked behind his mask. With a resounding ding, the cargo hold was filled with a near blinding green light that signaled something good. "Depressurization complete. Three minutes 'till drop off; opening rear hatch!"

With the dull roar of machinery moving, Roen twisted his head to regard the first rays of natural light that entered the Boeing cargo hold followed suite by the rush of wind. All three flight suits in the hold starting flapping annoyingly. The load-master watched his clock, listening to the cackle on the earpiece in his head. Raising his other hand, he signaled the captain and vice-captain of Cannon Fodder. "One minute until drop off; approach the rear." Roen, doing as he was told, approached, looking at the vast desert set before him. Then, in a whisper over the comms radio, he talked to Bellanox. "You'll be falling at a hundred and somethin' miles an hour, Bella. I promised you thrills--" "Cut the chatter. Ten seconds until drop off. Stand by.. Status: Green. Prepare for drop off."

The Devil approached, tail swaying behind him in negligence, closer and closer to the edge. "Count down! 5, 4, 3, 2, 1--" Then, in an off beat and cheery tone. "Get some, Roen!" Grinning like a fool, the Devil leaned over and gave himself to the rushing wind, his stomach immediately knotting up in the anxiety of it all. Holding his arms at his sides and dipping his chin low, the Devil didn't just fall - he Seer-Damn flew! Tail acting much like a rudder, he directed himself as he approached the desert floor, paying no heed to the altimeter. Instead, he rolled and curled his body, looking up to the quickly disappearing aircraft. Where the hell was Bellanox?

The cyberpunk scaled the building on the Cannon Fodder side of the ghetto; holy land arena, appearing a few feet behind his teammate.

"Good morning, Sieg!" Ed beamed, standing up right and stretching out his limbs a bit before approaching. "Umm, I didn't get a chance to congratulate you on your fight. You did well. Pound it." The cyborg stood next to Sieg by that time, and simply elevated his curled fist for the pounding. Whether Sieg understood the culture reference didn't really matter to Ed. He was just friendly like that. To just about everyone. Situation dependent.

The punk would leave his fist hanging for a few seconds, leaving the fist outstretched for as long as it took for some full on friendship to take place or until Edward realized that he was being left hanging and hence a total spaz.

"Is that the guy who ran Yggdrasil?" He whispered to himself, though it was loud enough for his teammate to hear. Squinting his eyes, the cyberpunk confirmed his suspicions and chuckled. "Small world."

Edward approached the edge of his building, cupped his hands around his mouth, and called the opposing team with the weird Norse-fetish out.

"Which one of you hideous ******** want to throw down?!"

Just Naota Wrote:

"Which one of you hideous ******** want to throw down?!"

Stephen slipped from his stretching into something of a martial arts/swordplay/made up kata to continue his warm-ups. Unsheathing, slashing, kicking, re-sheathing, punching, and so on continued for a few moments. Once finished, he returned to stretching, and addressed the opponent who had spoken - no need to rush, after all, it's not like the either of them were going anywhere.

"I dunno about the hideous crack... I mean, we've got the pretty boy, the hot chick, the man-stud, and the absent one. What's not t' love?"

He continued stretching like nothing had happened. The small talk was merely passing the time until his fight started.

"And yeah, I'm lookin' to throw down. But not with you. So sit your a** down and wait until the person who called dibs on you shows up."

Well, that was forward. Though in his defense, he wasn't aware that the guy he had his own eyes on for a match was currently spiraling downwards towards the arena like a demonic cannon ball.

Which brought up a good question - why in the name of all that was holy was an openly devout (and from what he had heard, quite zealous) christian teamed up with a devil?

Just Naota Wrote:

" I got glue to sniff later today."

"Heh...You crazy kids these days.", Sieg said with a calm smile while raising his hands in amusement at the comment. It would seem like Sieg should be worried about such a thing, but he strangely enough wasn't.

"Then I guess I'm up first."

Sieg would puase to look at Stephen and then speak; "Your the Team leader right? So I guess it would only be right to leave you to my infernal team mate...Unless you would prefer to battle against me.

Is their anyone else?"

"My shoulder is still stiff."

Of course, Ed referred to the final round fight in Yggdrasil against Radek, the undead cyberpunk. The cyborg frowned at Griff, remembering the fight quite vividly, the pain Radek caused him and the pain which still assailed him everyday. He felt a sensation in his prosthetic arm and grimaced slightly, scratching the synthetic skin of his forearm with the nails of his right hand. He wouldn't show weakness and continued with his contrived act.

"Fine. Sieg's first. Let's just get this thing going already."

((Roen wanted to fight you too. But before he logged off he asked me to see if I can get you to fight either Sieg or I.

Roen is still at work and waiting for Nox to post so if you want we can go ahead and get this going before I head to work in about five hours.))

"Hrng . . . uff . . . Good God this is heavy . . ."

A Barthav- . . . Barthavosian? Barthavian? Barthavoser? Whatever, he was a shopkeeper from Barthavos, looked up at the sounds of heavy toiling in front of his bakery. He froze in the midst of kneading a slab of dough to stare in bewilderment at the strange procession passing in front of his open window.

"Are, nnn, we almost there?"

"Almost, guys."

The baker watched them enter the doorway of the building next to his establishment (the residents of which had gone to stay at a nearby inn, all expenses paid), waved through by men clad in official HoH Security uniforms that had been standing guard.

"Urgh . . . I hope so. I mean . . . where did you even find th- . . . FffffffffSTAIRS?! Seriously?! Grrrrraaaaaaahhhh."

The last part had been intended as a scream of frustration, but it came out as more of a statement. The poor guy just didn't have the strength.

"Aw, come on. Suck it up."

"Hff . . . Rngh . . . grah . . ."

A couple of minutes later, a trap door flipped up on the roof of the building Jörmungandr was standing on. Sabrina stepped out, smiling as the warm, dry desert air breezed across her face.

"Hey guys," she said to her teammates. "Sorry I'm late. Had to pick up a couple of things."

As if on cue, what appeared to be a large black box started rising from the trapdoor behind her. A couple of seconds later, it revealed itself to a gigantic speaker, hefted aloft by a burly man wearing a sweat-soaked "Channel 7 News" t-shirt. Another man, and another speaker, followed shortly.

"Right there!" she said, pointing to a spot not far from the rest of Jörmungandr. With explosive sighs, they set them down. "Thanks," she said. "I'll give you guys that interview I promised, after the fight!" One man simply grunted his response, and they made their way back through the trapdoor, closing it behind them.

With as wide a grin as she could produce, Sabrina turned to the speakers, picked up a cord, and pulled her gPod out of her pocket. "Time for some mood music," she announced as she plugged in it, turned to her team to beam confidently at them, and hit 'Play'.

Music began blasting out of the speakers at just under 100 decibels. Sabrina's smile was dropped like a used condom, and she quickly started fumbling with her gPod with a panicked expression. She managed to stop it after it had been playing for a few second . . . but not quickly enough that it wouldn't get stuck in everyone's heads first.

"Uh, sorry," she said, and laughed nervously before selecting the right song.

Once the music got going, she turned to Griff, and shouted at him over the music: "I'M UP FIRST, RIGHT?!"

Griff blinked first at the progression of the stereos being posted on the roof, followed promptly by what he understood to be Caramel Dancing, followed by Judas Priest. His face was pretty well blanked by all that as he nodded to the girl. He turned from the fighting floor and proceeded to hoist himself onto one of the stereos. You know, for vantage.

Morivan looked around. He wanted to 'speak' to Roen. But in the mean time, he would close his eyes, and grab his own gPod, a pair of noice-cancelers. He would then set his gPod to random.

Ah, peace.

"Fukken' sweet," she muttered to herself. She'd been feeling fairly confident in the after math of their last fight. Immediately, she started striding towards the gap that separated the rooftops of Jörmungandr and Cannon Fodder, pulling both of her tonfa from her belt. She'd been planning to make a challenge, since so few people in this tournament seemed willing to just throw an effin' punch and get on with it . . . but it seemed one member of Cannon ******** actually had the testicular fortitude to take the initiative.

Sabrina had stopped about ten feet away from the gap, and as Ed leaped across, she raised her right arm to give him the universal gesture for "challenge", metal tonfa still gripped in her fist.

As he started strolling towards her, she transitioned into another universal gesture.

As he reached for his weapons, Sabrina took a pair of quick steps forward, trying to attack him before he could get properly get them out and ready, raising her left arm to protect the side of her face. She would stop, left foot forward, about two feet from him, and went for an underhanded gut punch with her right, trying to jab the hard metal tip of the tonfa head into his stomach and drive the wind out of him.

[1/17]

Finally! A fight was going on and people were rocking out to some music! Judas Priest no less! He had to give Sabrina credit, she pulled out some stops in the overkill department, but that said it still wasn't enough to cover the Carmelldansen screw up she made before hand. Whatever though. He couldn't really justify trashing multi-thousand dollar speakers in revenge for the boombox, so all was well.

And speaking of priests.

"YO! ECSTUFFUAN! SEIG! WHATEVER YOUR NAME IS!"

He paused after shouting that sentence, realizing now the downside that was the Giga Speaker 12000's going at full blast for conversation. He raised a finger to say "hold that thought" then walked over to the pumping machine and disconnected the gPod from them, causing a deafening silence to befall the arena.

"Changed my mind on who I want. Or at least I'm too impatient to wait for Jaeger to show up. Either way, dibs on you."

He plugged the music player back into the amps and waved his hand in a way that said "carry on." He got his foot in the door for this, and that was the important part.

To be honest, part of him wanted Seig from the get go, but he originally changed his mind since the idea of slapping around a deamon was never an unpleasant one, and Stephen had enough respect for religion that he was gonna feel a little guilty about getting in the ring and attempting to do the same to a holy man.

However, two important factors played into his head as well.

1) He had once requested a fight with Seig at a couple of years ago when he was still a younger lad in his heavy training phase, and... well, to be quite charitable, he was completely blown off. This was his chance to get the match, albeit without the unarmed-only-no-powers restriction he had offered up way back then.

2) Seig's team had won last round and made it so that his dream match against friend Damion Hedley was no longer possible, and while he was not gonna begrudge him for trying to, you know, win, it was a chance for a little friendly payback.

Either way, he expected that it would be much more interesting than if he had fought against any of the members from Team Eikoku Jun'ai Kata Veloceraptor Godzilla Twinkie Vanilla Ice Ice Baby Whatever-The-Hell-It-Was Called.

Because something about his luck with first round opponents just sucked.

Griff stared quietly between his team mates. He considered first the nature of Dream Matches. Seemed like nature or fate or the world loved situations that made dreams come true. For instance, Suits had waited years for his chance to fight Sieg, and because of the combined efforts of Sabrina, Fayble and Morivan, his dream would come to fruition.

For further instance, Sabrina and Fayble both wanted to make a name for themselves being all time heavy weights, so to speak, in the fighting circuit, and here they were, at Heaven or Hell '10. A tournament that went against the odds as is.

Griff himself was a veritable Bus Route of Destiny. Between Connor, James, Ben, Snow, everyone that participated at Yggdrasil, Eva, Alsoomse, his old running men... it wasn't surprising that Griff was something of a Go-To guy for life affirming hellfire. Even Griff himself was one hurtle after another. Losing arms, fighting the gods, destroying kings, dying, coming back, becoming a machine and being a killer.

But then, Griff decided, that Fate is bullshit.

The cyborg grinned and couldn't help but laugh a bit as his foot returned to the roof. His body relaxing somewhat after that exchange, allowing his heart rate to gradually to return to normal. Edward stood there, hands at his sides, simply staring at Sabrina as she recovered from the embarrassment. He could wait all day for this chick. This was great!

The punk took a deep breath and immediately drew both his hatchet (left) and shock maul (right). "That was rude.. I was just trying to get my weapons out. Did I try hitting you when you were choosing a song from your gPod? NO! What possibly could have crossed your mind that made you think that was a good idea? There's a dissonance in my head. I'll never wrap my head around it, I swear."

Bending his knees, Edward didn't move an inch and allowed Sabrina to compose herself entirely. "Focus, girly. I need you floating like a butterfly and stinging like a bee. One good fight can change the world." He spun both weapons elegantly and simultaneously activated his shock maul.

-Tres-

((Edited to clarify weapon positions.))

Roen Jaeger Wrote:

"Flying over Barthavos Desert. Altitude: thirty-thousand feet. Approaching the port of Strata. Ten minutes until drop off."

A deep rumble of contemplation emanated from deep within the Devil's chest as he listened to the load-master speak, his deep-set garnet hues lifting from the floor at his feet to regard the man first and then across from him to Bellanox Fatalis who busied herself with preparing for the jump. It seemed everything was in order; but he was concerned about whether or not Bellanox wanted to go through with this. This would mark her first HALO jump, and he didn't want her to freak out before, during, or after the fall. Shifting in his seat and rubbing his hands, Roen would fix the thick gloves upon them, fastening them securely to his wrists, then rise up and onto his booted feet. He, just like Bellanox and the load-master, were all wearing specialized olive-green jump-suits to combat the cold they would face in the high altitude.

"Equipment check." Listening to the load-master meant the difference between life and death. Respecting his authority was of the utmost importance. Fixing the straps of the pack upon his back and making sure the Death Throe was securely fastened to its top. Next he checked his altimeter, oxygen supply (which was located on his chest) and the straps of the mast he would wear during the fall. Everything seemed to be in order, or so he hoped. And every now and then, he would look at Bellanox, his head cocking to the side to get the load-master's attention to instruct the man to help her double check just in case. Ever protective of his bodyguard was the Darkened Devil - much like a fatherly figure. "Five minutes until drop off - commencing depressurization. Put on your masks."

Pursing his lips and lifting his mask to his face, Roen would turn the oxygen on and inhale deeply, hopefully watching Bellanox and the load-master do the same. "Approaching drop off point." Righting his mask and mildly irritated by it, the Devil would lift his hand and give the load-master a thumbs-up before rising up onto the tips of his toes and stretching. Rolling his shoulders blades and clearing his throat, the Devil would lift his hands up to his head and pull down his goggles, not being to help himself as he smirked behind his mask. With a resounding ding, the cargo hold was filled with a near blinding green light that signaled something good. "Depressurization complete. Three minutes 'till drop off; opening rear hatch!"

With the dull roar of machinery moving, Roen twisted his head to regard the first rays of natural light that entered the Boeing cargo hold followed suite by the rush of wind. All three flight suits in the hold starting flapping annoyingly. The load-master watched his clock, listening to the cackle on the earpiece in his head. Raising his other hand, he signaled the captain and vice-captain of Cannon Fodder. "One minute until drop off; approach the rear." Roen, doing as he was told, approached, looking at the vast desert set before him. Then, in a whisper over the comms radio, he talked to Bellanox. "You'll be falling at a hundred and somethin' miles an hour, Bella. I promised you thrills--" "Cut the chatter. Ten seconds until drop off. Stand by.. Status: Green. Prepare for drop off."

The Devil approached, tail swaying behind him in negligence, closer and closer to the edge. "Count down! 5, 4, 3, 2, 1--" Then, in an off beat and cheery tone. "Get some, Roen!" Grinning like a fool, the Devil leaned over and gave himself to the rushing wind, his stomach immediately knotting up in the anxiety of it all. Holding his arms at his sides and dipping his chin low, the Devil didn't just fall - he Seer-Damn flew! Tail acting much like a rudder, he directed himself as he approached the desert floor, paying no heed to the altimeter. Instead, he rolled and curled his body, looking up to the quickly disappearing aircraft. Where the hell was Bellanox?

After having grudgingly submitted to the twice over of her oxygen mask, harnesses and gear by Roen's lackies, Nox was anxious to be off. Her heart pounded and her stomach did flips in anticipation for the upcoming jump. What a thrill! Eyes came alight and an excited smile curled ruddy lips behind the glass front of her mask as the huge hatch began it's slow drop. Yes... This would be great! Everything around her seemed to slow down, even the spoken word. It seemed to take forever for Roen to lazily let the wind take him. For exactly three seconds after Roen let himself fall from the platform and into the rushing wind Nox waited for her signal.

"Do it Nox!"

"Hell yeah!"

The tall Gypsy did not lazily let the rushing wind take her. No, she lept from the plane with joyous heart. So.. Where the hell was Bellanox? Right on the Devil's tail. When he rolled to face upward, he would undoubtably see her jump suited figure above him, arms pressed close to her body, legs held tight together and cutting a path quite close to his own.

Over his headset he would hear a very loud, "YEAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!! VOOOOHOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!! as she rolled and flipped through the air.

Did life get any better than this? Of course it did! But not by much. Unfortunately it was over all too quickly. Even having fun as she was, Nox paid close attention to her altimeter. At 3000 ft, she reached up and pulled the cord to her chute. It's yards of purple silk unfurled, jerking her sharply upward before allowing her to continue with her descent at a much abated pace. Handles affixed to each side of her harness allowed for steerage. Thus Bellanox was able to guide herself to the rooftops that were their assigned destination. The red lights of her Fighter blinked off as soon as she pulled the handles sharply down, setting booted feet to roof in a jogging touch down, chute silk, floating gently down behind her.

Without skipping a beat, she pulled the mask from her head and shook her out wind blown hair, her expression positively euphoric.

"YEAH! Thats how you do it!"

Now... Where the hell was Roen?

As aforementioned, Edward simply stared at the girl and continued to speak. The cyborg liked to hear himself talk and was expecting a physical attack from Sabrina, so in retrospect the punk would admit that he hadn't been expecting anything from the metaphysical spectrum just yet. This would totally ******** suck.

Just Naota Wrote:

I need you floating like a butterfly and stinging like a bee. One good fight can change th--"

KRSH

The cyberpunk didn't even have time to feel the roof fail. His right leg simply fell through the crack, scaring the family under them as a phantom foot appeared in their living room - it would be infinitely more hilarious if said family were watching said fight on television - and causing the rest of the punk's body to fall on his remaining knee. Sabrina was on the move. Edward instinctively cringed. Though, right then and there, it was worth mentioning that he saw two things happening at once. So, Edward instinctively cringed and went with it. ******** it!

Edward shrank inwardly in fear, acquainting chin to chest, placing his left arm up defensively, and stretching out his right arm (arm elongated further by the presence of shock maul). By then, Sabrina had already initiated her attack, but Edward's arm was long and was sure to come soon enough to deliver it's electrical discharge. Not to mention that Ed timed it well enough that Roen would be coming in with his striker not even a second later.

Ed wouldn't go unpunished though. His left arm which was guarding was utter crap and Sabrina's tonfa easily made contact with the cyborg's jaw. Right under the ******** bottom lip. He instantly saw stars. Surely, his opponent would be seeing stars too.

-Four-

Luckily Nox would turn just in time to see Roen ditching his chute in favor of a more strategic yet potentially disastrous landing. The sight was quite comical really. A real cartoon fall if she'd ever seen one. The arm flail, the leg kicks, the slightly diagonal drop onto Sabrina as well as Edwards narrow escape.

"Oh Roen..." She groaned, her hand lifting, fingers splayed to catch as her face as it dropped wearily into her palm.

Of course her head didn't stay down. In fact it rose back up immediately. Why, one might ask? Because Roen, daredevil that he was, looked to have too much forward momentum to stop quickly. Perhaps not even enough to keep from going off the edge! And so, a split second after her dramatic facepalm, her head snapped back up, the hand dropped and she was in motion. Hurriedly pulling the cords to disengage chute from harness, Nox immediately rushed forward to either assist her tumbling boss or, if need be, once again save his devil a**.

small edit

TIME PARADOX : SIEG vs. SUTIIVEN

The Debris from Ed and Sabrina's fight was __________, so Griff sighed as he came to his feet, towering about all others, crowd and fighter alike. He looked at the HoH medics dragged 's limp and shattered, barely breathing husk of a corpse of a body off of the roof tops. This roof was entirely ________, and quite frankly, it was entirely ______ of accommodating MEN fighting against MEN.

He drew another cigar. Looking to those around him, his metallic finger shot outward at Sutiiven. "Alright. You, and you!" he gestured to Sieg, acknowledging their challenges. "You will head over to Rooftop two over there." He pointed northbound to the nearest gap. Granted, it was still a five and a half foot gap. But jeez. "Suits. If you don't turn Sieg into a quivering pile of meat, you're walking home."

"I am NOT joking." The zippo snapped shut as he spun it in his fingers, sliding the lighter into his pocket. He cracked his knuckles. Or, the ones on the left hand, of course, the right one cracking would be pretty bad. Not to mention it just didn't really seem possible. "And once they've beat one another into fruity chunky jello, Roen, I am going to make you regret ever coming here to challenge the people of..."

He turned, looking now to the people below. The legion and crowd of people, those clamored together. The faces of his people.

"STRATA!!!"

minor grammatical edits. Does it matter on a noncombat post?

-TIME PARADOX-

Heaven or Hell

Round 2, Match 2

Seig vs Stephen

Griff Morivan Wrote:

"Alright. You, and you! You will head over to Rooftop two over there. Suits. If you don't turn Sieg into a quivering pile of meat, you're walking home."

Stephen glanced back at his captain with a bored look on his face. It was the first time that Griff had pulled rank on him, and since the lad was already rearing to go for his fight, the command was unnecessary. Still, an order was an order. Flipping a casual salute, Stephen acknowledged his captain.

"Whatever you say, boss man."

He proceeded to nimbly climb up to a higher vantage point near the team bench, then backed up to get a running start. Leaping over to the designated rooftop and landing with a roll, the man got up and brushed himself off, scanning the arena. He couldn't be getting back to the bench any time soon without going into the street and climbing back up with the risk of the (albeit extended) ring out timer, but that was okay. He wasn't planning on leaving any time soon.

His first fight in this years tournament. He took a deep breath and let it sink in. And against a somewhat famous and infamous large black christian martial artist, no less. It was... a different experience for him, but nothing to let get to his head. Part of him wanted to abandon his jacket and shirt and forgo weapons entirely this round, but Seig was just that much larger and stronger than him that such a move would have been inappropriate. To give him the extra advantage during such a high stakes fight would have been suicide, or at least a one way trip to a long walk home.

"I have heard a lot about you, master Ecstuffaun. Not all of it positive. However, I look forward to a good match and pray that God will bless this battle."

Stephen was not exceptionally religious himself, though he had been raised as a Catholic when he was younger and felt compelled to give the opponent some respect in that area. Besides, if his opponent was going to call on divine guidance this match, Stephen felt that he should use whatever experience in the area that he had to level the playing field.

Leaving his weapons sheathed, he shifted into a basic ju-jitsu fighting stance and awaited Seig's first move.

"En-Guard."

[1/17]

((Edit: Minor rewording to avoid redundant redundancy))

So.

Sabrina ran across the roof top, covering about eight feet of distance between her and Edward in a few strides, then proceeded to start going down and onto her knee(s) to jam her tonfa into Edward's neck. Then, she noticed a shadow growing upon the ground. She would then, as far as the Devil could understand, stop dropping down and onto her left knee(s) and instead push off, diving past the punk and leaving the Devil bereft of a pudgy landing. How this happened was irrelevant, and the only thing that mattered was the fact that it did happen. It was set in stone; over and done with. By the time Roen had pulled himself free from his parachute and launched himself towards Sabrina, the girl had deduced that a STRIKER was incoming by noting a growing shadow at her feet and had garnered enough tenacity to move out of the way by both readjusting her chunky body-weight's forward momentum (while she was attempting to drop onto her left knee) and readjusting her center-of-balance (which was currently leaning forward to strike her opponent's throat) to throw herself towards Edward's flank. A splendid show to be sure; but there was one tiny problem...

Roen was still looking at an awkward landing, especially now that he was denied the pleasure of crushing a little albeit overweight girl beneath him. His deep-set garnet eyes would watch with displeasure as she began bolting away, paranoid person as she was, and quickly began weighing and evaluating his options and course of actions. Twelve foot plunge, tremendous amount of speed and force, and Edward on his knee with one foot stuck through the roof. Now, Roen was going to land in the spot Sabrina had previously occupied; but the Devil wouldn't be able to say, '****** you, Physics!' like Sabrina did, certainly no. The Devil had to respect the laws of motion. That meant he wouldn't be able to stop his motions on a dime and move out of the way of whatever he pleased at his convenience and leisure. He'd have to appreciate that force equaled mass/acceleration. He might not have been some chunky darling hauling a across a rooftop; but the concept remained the same. He'd have to follow through with his momentum, and there was no fighting against it unless he wanted to look stupid and hurt himself. However, there was such a thing such as damage control.

Flailing, falling feet first, and Edward directly infront of the spot he was landing on. Roen, seeing what he had to do, set his jaw and steeled himself for what was to come. He'd break his legs if he tried stopping his inertia in vain, so that idea was out. There was no diving to the sides either for obvious reasons, so that was also a no-go plan. He'd have to hit Edward; but that was relative considering the Devil's trademark trait of dash; that perfect blend of boldness and grace. He'd use his built up momentum to the greatest advantage he could to save Edward from his own Captain's recklessness. "Ed!" The Devil would yell moments before his feet would hit the ground, his knees bending to absorb the shock as best they could while he simultaneously stepped/fumbled forward and into Edward, the leathery hide of his tail flaring out for balance. It didn't matter much -- his yelling, that is -- but Roen wanted to make sure his teammate knew just what the ******** was going on so he had a chance to react. If Edward was any kinds of smart, he'd shove his arm(s) into Roen and vault the Captain over his head, said captain helping such an event by throwing himself forward, effectively saving them both from the immediate harm by literally vaulting over the Punk's head. However, the best was yet to come.

Roen wasn't the only one who could do a roll. Quite the contrary, it was almost second nature to go into one as he flew over Edward's head, landing on his back and behind the cyber punk with enough force to nearly knock the wind out of him. Manly injuries all over; but Sarina forgot to note that Roen was no man -- he was the goddamn Darkened Devil. Out of respect, said Devil would show the chubby youth that evasion only prolonged the inevitable, and that each time a door closed, a window opened in it's stead. By the point of Roen landing into a roll after vaulting over Edward's head, Sabrina would have finished her dive and commenced her barrel roll away from both members of Cannon Fodder. A wise decision; but futile. While out of Edward's limited reach, Roen could still very easily reach the woman with a subtle gesture of a certain appendage. As he jumped up and into a reckless run that threatened to make him topple over, Roen decided that it would be best to anchor himself.

In came a very good anchor in the form of a chubby chicky. The Devil's tail flared out, and it touched Sabrina's squirming and writhing body as she suffered the aftershocks of Edward's maul. It wouldn't be long until it grabbed anything it could securely wrap itself to. Her left/right thigh, her waist, her middrift, around her chest, one of her arms, around her throat - anywhere and where it could hoist a secure hold as it slid across her body before it finally snagged and Roen dragged her along with his incredible amount of momentum. If everything worked out the way it should, Sabrina would be dragged across the rooftop like some random harlot by her pimp, and upon Roen reaching the edge of said roof top, he'd jump over with Sabrina still in his grasp, dragging her off the roof top before releasing. No, tournament rules stated that he could not take the woman with him, so just as she fell off the roof and into the alleyways (or fans?) below, Roen would land on the adjacent roof top with a flop, lift his left hand, and turn the STRIKER timer off with not a moment to spare. If his tail didn't grab Sabrina..well, Roen would just run away much the same way, jumping onto another rooftop, and turning his STRIKER off with abit more time on his hands.

"Well if you've heard anything about me, surely you would be mistaken about the whole quivering and meat part."

Sieg followed stephen in his leap to the roof top pointed out by Griff. Sieg seemed as if he were attempting to stay parallel with the opponent at all times. The crowd would roar in amazement at the synchronous movements of the fighters in their running leap and break fall to the other building. The tension caused by Sieg keeping his position unwaveringly parallel to Stephen was the kind of thing that you saw in a choreographed film.

"En Guard", The opponent said to begin the match as he shifted into a familiar fighting pose. Jujitsu, Sieg recognized.

'Surely he doesn't mean to grapple with me...Likely armed...Stay on the outside...Fish for a confident counter.', Sieg thought. All the while his hands would remain at his sides low out of guard. His feet however would shift as the opponent took his stance. They were squared up with the left foot forward and spread to remained balance. His posture was straight and his knees were slightly bent.

Immediately after both men took their fighting position, nobody moved, Stephen did not attack.

'Maybe not...', Sieg thought.

Sieg began to move forward with shuffling footwork that kept him balanced and control of his momentum. Dust from the top of the buildings were kicked up by his light shoes. As Sieg moved in his right hand came up some towards the front of his face. The hot sun of the barthavos deserts would shimmer and reflect against Siegs shiny metal bracers and into the opponents eye, serving as a possible distraction.

As Sieg moved into the outfighting boxing range, he would immediately unleash what was known as a flicker jab with his left hand.

The flicker jab was different from a normal jab in that rather than snapping the left hand straight out, the hand would come up at an angle from outside the opponents peripheral vision from Siegs right to his left up towards his face. The punch would impact with the back of the left hand. Sieg stood on the outside boxing range in an attempt to use his taller and longer frame to his advantage.

*guitar noises*

Sabrina couldn't escape the inevitable. The cyberpunk wouldn't allow it. So he advanced just after throwing the hatchet.

The axe would have gotten there a hell of a lot faster, but Edward swallowed the few feet that separated the two within a second, initiating the violence once more. Bending over slightly, Edward proceeded to lash out with the shock maul in his right hand, aiming to repeatedly strike Sabrina like a madman in whatever part seemed most available (the torso). He'd combine these attacks with a kick or stomp every now and then. Though that was only if it worked.

The entire situation was akin to a police brutality tape, and seeing as the event was being televised, and law enforcement used to be Ed's Schtick. Sabrina could definitely sue later on.

-Sei-

((Edited to add post #))

Stephen watched carefully during the approach. His attack was not rushed, but thought out, coordinated, balanced. Everything had been calculated, thought out. He would surely realize that he had a number of advantages against Stephen: more muscle, more martial arts experience, and probably just in better shape all around. Stephen had the advantage of being smaller, but Seig would presumably compensate for that in his attacks. Indeed, Seig was superior to Stephen physically in every way.

Which was exactly what Stephen wanted him to think.

Stephen had remained stoic in order to tempt Seig into attacking first, and he had hoped for a punch – something that the large black christian was more than willing to oblige him with. As the punching arm began to move, Stephen ducked and stepped forward to the left side of his opponent. Though the punch was a variant, it passed over the blonds head all the same. The restriction on his peripheral vision was of no concern. If Seig had come with a kick or some other attack, he would have been, in a word, owned. But the opponent was now waltzing right into Stephen’s hands, and there was nothing the man could do about it.

Quote: Spiritual Catalyst: Stephen can use his spiritual energy to act as a catalyst required to perform elemental-like abilities. For example, he can use his energy as the key to create a strong gale, or a sudden burst of flame. In layman’s terms, it’s the spiritual equivalent to psychokinesis or evocation, but in a less complex manner. He is by no means a master of the various elements, and can only manipulate them on a fundamental level. For example, he can’t create earth out of thin air, but he can shape it when near natural ground. Abilities created through this method can be combined or multiplied in order to perform new attacks, but must stick to the fundamental requirements of the separate elements. Also, since Stephen’s energy acts as the catalyst, it is restricted to the same requirements as any of his other energy abilities. (Spiritual Ability)

Quote: Electro Stunner: Stephen charges his hands or weapon with electricity and releases it upon contact with an opponent. The electricity has potentially enough juice to stun the opponent for a few critical seconds, giving Stephen enough time to either give himself some space or follow up with another move. This move has two settings – a minor shock which is only intended for the purpose of stunning, and the full power version that also inflicts damage. R1 for minor, R2 for full power. (Spiritual Ability)

During his movement, Stephen focused his energy as a catalyst to create an electric charge about his hand – nothing too strong, but enough to make quite an impression on whoever was unfortunate to be on the receiving end.

From his position next to his opponent, he was in a perfect position to land a palm strike. Normally this probably wouldn’t do jack against the ripped abdomen of Seig, but when backed with an electric charge -

WHAP-BZZZZZZT!

• Seig was going to find the blow to be a lot more “stunning” than it usual would.

It wasn't the most powerful option, but if it worked... he'd have just enough of an opening to put Seig in a world of hurt.

[2/17]

Even though Fayble was quick to respond, she hadn't activated her Striker until Roen had left the arena. And thus, she wouldn't be able to save Sabrina from the first blow, straight into her shoulder blade. The chainmail, made of metal loops and linked together, managed to scatter some if it this time. But it was still bad.

"NNNNNNGGGGHHHHHHHH!!!" she screamed through clenched teeth, spittle flying into the dirt beneath her face. The tendons in her neck stuck out like cords of rope. It felt as if everything in her body suddenly hated her, and showed their displeasure by locking up in agony as another jolt coursed through her. The tonfa she'd been gripping in her hand, which she'd managed to hold on to the first time around, dropped from her hand and plopped unceremoniously into the dust.

She wanted to cry, because she knew more would be coming, and it wouldn't stop until she was either dead or unconscious. That thought alone made her feel like giving up . . .

. . . . . . .

NO!!! She wouldn't go out like a punk! She didn't want, no, she refused to be put down like this. She'd take as much as he had to give and throw it right back in his face if she had to. She'd prove to everyone that she deserved to be here.

After a moment (though it had felt a lot longer than that) the electricity had run its course, and her muscles went limp again. Her muscles were still loathe to respond to her orders, but her brain pistol-whipped them into doing another BARREL ROLL to get her away, again, from him. She just wanted space, vaguely aware of action taking place off to her right. The young woman managed to do a smooth, full roll this time, bringing her around on to her stomach again.

Weakly, she pulled her hands to her sides, and started to push herself up, her arms shaking and threatening to buckle beneath her. Her face was beet-red, and sweat beaded and dripped from her forehead, but she swore she would get back up and on her feet if it killed her.

[6/17]

Someone turn that crap off,

"Aren't you a little too old to be playing music to set a mood, Griffen?" Asked the Devil before narrowing his eyes, his hand wrapping around the wire-wrapped hilt of the Death Throe before unsheathing the weapon from it's womb with a quick Shrrrk. "Besides, it's distracting. Your teammate would have found out the hard way if she wasn't such a paranoid creature." Flourishing the obsidian-colored hand-and-a-half sword along his flank with a quick and negligent flick of his left-wrist, Roen would furrow his eyebrows and begin an advance across the roof top, keeping a firm and secure hold on the wine-red lacquered sheath in his right hand "Though last I saw of her before I lost interest, Edward was about to make her cry. The tide of battle is whimsical, no?"

Raising his sword and pointing it at the speakers, Roen would signal his body-guard to shut off the music, woe be unto Griffen if he attempted to stop her. Knowing Bellanox and her loyalty to her benefactor, it wouldn't be too long before Skynet Symphony was shut off, and in it's wake just the dull roar of Jormungandr's fans. Sighing in relief if and when such horrid music would cease and desist, Roen would lower his weapon once more and begin cutting down the proximity between he and Griffen, if of course the Captain didn't do anything to stop him. Raising his right hand as the distance closed to a mere eight feet between the two, the Devil would place his finger across his lips and shake his head as he began to circle counter-clockwise around the man, looking mildly displeased. "Sh-sh-sh, Griffen. This isn't double-elimination like last year, and I can't afford your distractions."

Dropping his hand back down to his side, he would tighten his grip on the sheath, eying the man cautiously. "Realize that if you do not give this your all, I will remove you from WALL. Now, unsheathe your blade, and treat this like it matters. If you can't take yourself seriously, how do you expect me to?" And to emphasize his point, Roen would throw his sheath to the wayside with a hostile toss, all the while maintaining his slow and tedious circling around Griffen's form. In the time in took the Jormungandr Team Captain to either oblige Roen by unsheathing his weapon or declining and relying on his fists, the Darkened Devil would take the initiative to dart forward threateningly, crossing at least three feet in one quick stride that aimed to provoke Griffen. All the while, his tail would sway behind him, acting as an extension for his center of balance.

1/17

Griff glanced off to the side as his lackey would turn off the music. Granted, given the lax of Morivan's original initiative, there was just enough time for Sarah Connor to start shouting that Roen should 'Save! Yer! Self! Save! Yer! Self!' before the sound clicked off. It was a shame, considering it was barely mood music volume. "Hey. At least Sarah is looking out for you."

He watched Roen, his theatrics, his big performance. Morivan couldn't help but notice the sword. Not because he particularly feared it, but because it looked nice and Morivan didn't mind the thought of beating Roen's body to a pulpy mess and taking that pretty little blade of his. But he got the message. Time to straighten up. "Fair enough, Roen. You're right. All joking aside, you and I are gonna have to put on a damn good show."

The clicking of a clip sounded off as Griff's left arm reached across his body. He shifted, his left shoulder pointed to Roen as he slowly strafed in opposition to the demon's movements. The blade was at the ready, if not properly drawn.

Quote: -- Passive Charge

--- The Midgard Fang collects 1 charge per turn after being unsheathed. Max of 3.

Morivan kept his slow position, his shoulders tensing slightly at the sight of Roen's little hopskip. As the demon would notice a definitive force around Morivan and his weapon.

Quote: -- Deflect Evil

--- A mostly passive power, this weapon is highly effective against Undead, Lichen, Vampiric, or those who possess truly evil tendancies. This is a natural effect of the sword for it's Holy tendancies, and does not require casting.

His right arm drew back, his left hand flexing slowly over the guard of his sword, his eyes narrowed. He was prepared. But he wasn't about to make that first move.

Mana Charge

[1/3]

Special

[1/5]

[1/17]

[Griff responded in kind, adjusted his stance, prepared his weapon and stared Roen down, keeping in step with Roen's circling.]

-small edit for formatting reasons-

The Devil grunted and brought the Death Throe over his head, his right hand lifting up from his side to grab the last few inches of the hilt for an over-head two-handed high-guard. Sword straight, knees bent, leading forward with his right foot, Roen would regard Griffen for a few moments in silence, his deep-set garnet eyes shadowed by the bridge of his forehead and giving him a very haunted appearance. Then, he shuffle stepped forward, covering another foot between he and Griffen whilst swinging the Death Throe down in a cleaving arc that threatened to cut straight into his opponent's crown. And while Roen swung his weapon, he delved into his abyssal mana pool, and began groping for enough power to sling a spell off. Concise and clear, the Devil initiated first-contact.

2/17

Uh-huh.

As soon as Griffen started to move out of the path of Roen's b***d sword, the Devil was already going about the tedium of keeping up with the man. Maintaining the full force of the downward stroke, Roen would watch as his b***d sword caught his opponent's arm, a shower of sparks indeed resulting but hardly distracting as they floated towards the ground. In tandem with this motion accompanied by the realization that he wasn't splitting Griffen's helm, Roen shifted his footing, stepping forward with his left foot and twisting his torso to the right to effectively keep both he and the Jormungandr face to face - for the time being, at least. Simultaneous with this step would be Roen releasing the two-handed grip on the Death Throe and instead favoring single-handed one. With his left hand, Roen would swing his sword down; but as it swung, Roen would pivot his wrist and angle the blade into a clock-wise pendulum swing that would send it on an interception course with the Fang of Midgar as it went to rent open his belly.

With a resounding clang of metal-on-metal, the two blades would impact, Roen adjusting his own that they did not do so edge-on-edge, which of course would have been potentially lethal for both of the weapons. Yet, Roen felt mildly cruel this evening, and as such, decided to be more-or-less an a*****e. With the Death Throe acting as the tool and conduit it was, and as it impacted the Fang of Midgard, Roen would channel abyssal mana through it and enchant the blade in Griffen's hand with Dark Fire. With a subtle spark at the impact zone of the weapons, a fire would erupt along the Midgar Fang's blade in entirety, including the tang located in the hilt. Hopefully, Griffen's hand would be burnt. One never could be so sure with themselves, though. As such, Roen would watch for the split-second that would determine his next course of actions. He would watch Griff's right hand as well, knowing all too well that that fist could rock his world.

Dark Fire Wrote:

Channeling Abyssal Mana into an object of his choosing with his hands and applying the appropriate mental intent, Roen can conjure a black flame, void of light, to spring forth from the intended object. The effect feels like a regular flame, but it does not give off any visible illumination nor does it consume oxygen. Any cautious fighter that approaches the object enchanted with Dark Fire will be able to feel the heat and possibly avoid the danger. Flammable items that come in contact with Dark Fire will be consumed in visible flames as if lit by a normal flame. The magical fire does not consume the item it is enchanted to during the duration of the spell. If the item enchanted is flammable then at the end of the spell's duration the object will be consumed in visible flames and will burn normally. Attempts to cover up or hide the object with Dark Fire will not quench the flames. Submerged objects will continue to produce heat and will start to boil the liquid (water or some other liquid with a similar boiling point or lower) it is in within reason. This spell is not a light spell and will not counter or dispel darkness. Creatures with darkvision or low-light vision are not affected by this spell. Creatures that rely on heat-vision can see the heat given off the object in a 5-foot radius. The object enchanted is not considered magical and will not hurt creatures that have damage resistance against normal attacks. Roen cannot put his hands on someone's body and ignite it with dark-fire. Roen can put his hands on their shirt, pants, or underwear and enchant them with dark-fire, with the aforementioned effects. The duration of this spell is two posts with one post for casting. Typical burning temperature of Dark Fire is at a relative 500°F.

-10 AMP

3/17

Sutiiven Wrote:

"Agnus Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi, miserere nobis."

Lamb of God, you who take away the sins of the world, have mercy upon us.

[3/17]

[3/17]

Stephen probably wouldn't have noticed that Sieg was changing martial art styles effortlessly and fluidly. Sieg was like water in the way that he constantly and easily shift's forms. Matching with the one inch punch that Sieg had just performed, Sieg would simultaneously use two martial arts principles...

The "Stop Hit" and "sticky hands".

Quote:

The electrified hand that had missed it's original target was pulled back...

Jeet Kune Do....The way of the intercepting fist teaches us that the quickest path to any point was a straight line. It's Writer, Bruce Lee had also once said

"When my opponent contracts, I expand! and when there is opportunity I do not hit, for it hits all by itself"

And that quote would explain exactly what would happen when the opponent made the mistake of cocking his right hand back while parrying Siegs right with his left. The next event in the fight would describe the definition of a stop hit. As soon as the opponent would pull his hand back, Sieg would throw a left cross to the front of the opponents jaw. Sieg would aim to strike an invisible target one inch behind the opponents jaw.

Due to the timing of the thrust of the left hand in the punch Sieg would not need to defend against the back fist because the opponent would either be sent to the air or to the ground before it was thrown. The punch wasn't a reeling heavy haymaker, Sieg didn't throw such inefficient blows. His punch was like a piston, all the power of a knock out blow but with the precise technique of a boxer to keep himself protected.

"Amen!", Sieg would shout while throwing the punch.

The second principle Sieg would demonstrate was sticky hands, though unless someone was paying attention to the way Siegs right hand would stay close and in contact with the opponents left as he released the left, it would not come into play just yet.

CLANG SHINKSPANG!

Griff couldn't help but marvel. Roen... was ****** fast. God damn it. Not to mention... damn, did the sun make the sun make the Fang that hot? Really? Jee-...Oh st. Morivan immediately started howling, his eyes going wide. There was also a problem. Given the abrupt nature of the heat, Griff's hand would not only go into shock, but his skin would melt.

...

Roen is a p***k.

Griff turned now, looking at Roen with a scowl. "OH MOTHER ********!" Griff shouted. For half a second, the deep parts of his brain would wonder if he now had a Holy Dark Wind Fire sword. Cause that seemed a bit retarded. But he would pay it no mind. Because right now, Griff Morivan was just a very handsome rage face.

Back to actually fighting. Griff's eyes twinged with pain constantly, his teeth gritted, he was forced to keep moving. Ducking forward, he would bring the sword forward in a wide arch. The sight, however, would be somewhat odd. The blade seemed to leave a trail. Quite the odd phenomena.

Quote: -- Crushing Blow

--- Costing three charges and using the elemental power of both holy and air. Griff loses the charges, even if the attack misses or is canceled mid-attack. The attack itself is simple, being any single cut or stab. The attack is twice as damaging, and contains both Holy and Air elemental power. Now, with the little bit of control Morivan had with his actual wrist, he would twist the sword, the flat side facing him and just barely in between him and Roen, the two still at close range, his fingers yanking free, the skin tearing from his fingers as his fist came bursting through like the god damned DOOMTRAIN.

Quote: -- BREAK YOUR FACE PUNCH!

--- Okay, so the move doesn't actually have a name, but it requires two full turns. First turn, Griff pulls his right arm all the way back and it locks into place, where a piston slides back and locks. This can be held for up to five rounds or whenever Griff releases the hold. If he uses it as a punch, the PSI is equal to a ton of direct force. So. If this went exactly as Griff had it in mind, he would slice Roen deep with the crushing cut, followed by slamming the hyper hot holy air sword thing into the now gaping hole in him with a ton of direct force. Successful or not, Griff would successfully separate flesh searing handle from his hand.

Mana Charge

[USED]

Special

[USED]

[3/17]

[Griff's hand is pretty extensively burnt, Griff uses both the Crushing Blow and then the BREAK YOUR FACE PUNCH, freeing his hand from the ******** sword.]

4/17

The opponent was faster than Sieg thought, though in Siegs many years he had learned to expect nothing. The punches collided with each other to little more effect than agitating Stephen. Though Sieg was a patient man. There was little response from Siegs face when his punch failed and absolutely no hesitation in the initiation of his next action and the hopeful resolution to his situation.

While bringing his left hand back to guard Sieg would move his hand up rapidly with the opponent's as the pressure against his own changed. This movement from the sticky hands technique was trained and sure. As the opponents hand would come up for an uppercut at Siegs chin, Sieg would follow through with the rising motion of the right hand to parry the opponents left uppercut away from the center line, causing the punch to miss its target.

The parry would place Siegs right hand up at the opponents face level and immediately after the uppercut missed its target, Sieg would utilize the one inch punch technique again but this time with a different target and different hand position. Before the uppercut the opponent had moved into clinch fighting range and had left his guard open. The left cross had twisted Siegs hips enough to serve as a chamber for a dynamic twist of the hips.

"HYAH!", Sieg shouted while performing the technique.

Sieg would throw a short one inch punch style blow to the opponents face. The base of his palm would be aimed to strike the area between the nose and upper lip, while the bent fingers would be aimed to poke into the eyes. The base of Siegs right palm would strike at a sensitive nerve cluster and the sutures that held the upper front teeth in position, while also attempting to dig Siegs unnaturally hard fingers through the opponents eyes. This blow would be hard to dodge, simply because of the close proximity of the attack and the speed with which it was delivered.

During the blow Sieg would slide his lead right foot to the right behind the opponents, so that if the blow landed Stephen would be knocked even more off balance.

Quote:

Master with the Crooked Fingers [physical]

Siegs striking limb bones are strong, after being steadily conditioned through secret martial arts techniques. This allows Sieg to strike without fear of injuring his own fist. Without the limitation on how hard he can strike without hurting himself, Siegs blows are slightly more powerful. Siegs fingers and toes have been conditioned through martial arts training to be hard and rigid enough to be used as striking tools that can deal a large amount of amount of force to a small surface area without breaking.

The one-inch punch was indeed a powerful move, but it had a fatal flaw - its signature range. As such, one did not have to move far to avoid it - merely being a cautious fighter would be enough. When Stephen felt his punch being blocked, he pulled his head back and to the right, giving himself some room to breathe in the event Seig threw a blow. The look on his face became ever so slightly more concerned (and annoyed) as he watched the attack come in with bent fingers as if he intended to gouge his eyes out.

He felt Seig's leg wrapping around his right (and after the match, he would wonder why the hell he didn't put his left leg forward instead during his previous attack) and knew that retreat was not going to end well.

So Stephen decided to damn the torpedoes and go forward.

Pushing off of his left foot, he brought his left arm down from its post-uppercut location around Seig's waist. As he did this, he slammed the shoulder into the black man's chest in attempt to startle him and prevent any slippery movement (as well as maybe knock him off balance for a second.) His right arm would then come around and slam his hand (painfully) into the right side of the opponent's abdomen. The electric charge that the hand once carried had dissipated to the point of non-importance to both opponent and wielder, but Stephen no longer was aiming for a shock. Stephen was looking to return the black man's offer to play some hardball.

Quote: Swift Blade: Stephen focuses his spiritual energy into his palm and forces it out into a short knife like protrusion that lasts for a few seconds. Sometimes referred to as the “shiv attack,” this move is intended for sudden critical strikes at point blank range. R2. (Spiritual Ability)

5/17

Sieg would reanalyze this battle to see how the opponent knew he was going for the face after he parried the uppercut. Sieg wondered if in his old age he had telegraphed a move or maybe it was fighters intuition.

Sieg looked into the opponents eyes as his one inch punch style blow missed Stephens head. He saw the look of concern on his face and that expression would add more spark to the fire of combat that burned within Siegs chest. Simultaneously Siegs right hand would quickly maneuver for an underhook grip underneath the opponents left arm as the left arm went around Siegs waist. Siegs right hand would cup stephens left shoulder.

Sieg was not affected much by the shoulder ram into his chest, Considering the weight difference and the fact that Siegs recent punch gave him some forward momentum. Sieg would notice the movement of the shoulder and from that body language he noticed the right arm.

In response, Siegs left hand came down to parry the palm strike to the abdomen out to his left. The opponents blade like spiritual weapon cut through the air, missing Siegs brown flesh.

Simultaneously with the parry Sieg would make a counter clockwise turn on his right foot, sliding his left foot around so that most of Siegs right shoulder faced the opponent's left side.

During the turn he utilized the leverage begotten by the right underhook to go against the opponents left arm which wouldn't put up much resistance anyway. Due to the movement the opponents left arm grasp around the waist would likely slide up into the upper back.

As Sieg turned he would push down with his right hand against the opponents shoulder while leaning forward and bent knees, but with straight posture.

This should cause the opponents left shoulder to be pushed down to Siegs left while the left arm was being held up against Siegs back/waist (creating pressure). Siegs left hand would move push down on top of his right hand to add pressure to the movement.

This would create a point of immense stress against the shoulder forcing the opponent to bend over. Sieg was taller and stronger, giving him way more leverage. This was not a submission technique, but merely a move to give Sieg the leverage to force the opponent to bend over.

[edit - Considering the position of the opponents feet, the positioning should be described differently]

"You were supposed to drop the sword, you idiot." Said Roen was he pulled his sword back, his right hand raising to grab the last few inches of wire-wrapped hilt while he angled the blade's tip into a low-guard. 500°F and the flesh of Griffen's hand was melting? No, that shouldn't have been possible. Maybe the metaphysical nature of the Dark Fire played a key role; but he doubted it. Regardless, Roen slid his right foot back and bent his knees, his chin dipping slightly and once again shadowing his deep-set garnet eyes with the shadow of the bridge of his forehead. If Griffen wanted to continue with his sword on fire, so be it - leniency would not be given in lieu of his stupidity. The Jormungandr captain came in like the DOOMTRAIN he was, and the Devil would simply side-step to the right, swinging his hand-and-a-half sword with all of his might in a clock-wise pendulum swing, right in the path of his opponent's sword.

It was a two-handed grip vs. a single handed one; A brutal stroke from a grounded devil fighting a stroke that came from a man who was running; Roen's hands were uninjured and his arms were strong, and Griffen's hand was probably hurting like hell. The intent? The Devil wanted to jar and wrench the Midgar Fang from Griffen's hopefully lax grip, his wrists pivoting after the initial impact to circle the Death Throe around the Midgar Fang in a very obvious intent to disarm the man. Inadvertantly, the Devil's side-step would put him out of the path of Griffen's 'BREAK YOUR FACE PUNCH!', saving Roen's face from breaking, seeing as how Griffen already had the intention of releasing the sword.

Said sword would go flying through the air and crash land somewhere. As for Roen in his side stepped position, right outside Griffen's left flank, he would release the bottom few inches of the hilt and drop his left arm, notching the tip of the Death Throe in the rooftop. Lifting his chin and looking upon the man, he would be silent and condescending in his relaxed facial expression. Truth be told, he expected more from the Jormungandr captain. There was no finesse nor any poise in his attacks, each and every culminating into a do-or-die scenario. It was boring. Heaving in a deep breath and sighing through his nose, Roen would just drop the Death Throe, letting the blade clatter upon the rooftop, and lift his hands to unbutton his cuffs. He had watched the man's last fight, and noted that Griffen shined much more as a brawler. Rolling his sleeves up and then throwing up his dukes in a traditional south-paw stance, Roen would give the man a chance to shine once again in a fist fight. No words would be exchanged between the two; only action reigned supreme.

4/17

The cyborg's foot connected just above the girl's kneecap, understanding the failure of his attack quite clearly, mostly due to Sabrina's unfavorable reaction to it. Not as much pain as it should have. That sucked for Edward, but he was ready and willing to make right.

Instantly, Ed used the contact between his heel and Sabrina's leg to kick off, propelling the punk in reverse a few feet and creating some needed distance between the two seeing as the chick was just about ready to put the beat down on him.

He proceeded to stumble backwards (still off balance) as Sabrina 'burst' inward. First, Sabrina lashed out with a palm strike; to which Ed took one step back with his right foot and abruptly came to a stop (putting his dukes up), and rotating his hips to the right. This placed his torso at an angle to Sabrina's straight palm, causing the attack to hit awkwardly and slide across at the angle he created. It was painful sure, especially since she struck the ribcage that was still weak and sore from his fight with Desmond, but it could have been a god damned repeat of Fayble's hammer.

Simultaneously, his left arm would violently move in a brutish and frantic wax-on motion, parrying the shaft of the tonfa on it's left side and sending it off course to the right. That one, luckily, wouldn't even hit. Thank you, Mr. Miyagi!

Those two simultaneous movements left the nerdy cyberpunk in a not to shabby orthodox boxing position. With the hips turned appropriately and his right arm cocked back. The cyborg wouldn't let Sabrina get comfortable in her dominant position.

Without a moment to lose after parrying the tonfa, his hips twisted the opposite way in quick corkscrew-esque motion, sending his right fist in a powerful cross for Sabrina's face. Edward relied on the fact that his opponent both her arms so quickly, one after the other, that she only left herself with a minuscule amount of time to put her guard back up. Then again, Sabrina's left was probably already returning from it's attempted palming.

Though, the fact that she was bursting in didn't help her case very much. Sabrina was essentially bursting straight into the powerful cross which diminished her reaction time even further.

-Ten-

Sabrina had possessed a sneaking hunch that he would immediately resort to punches once she'd countered one of his kicks, but she didn't expect him to return so quickly with one. Her hand did indeed come back as he executed his punch, and she tried to parry, knocking the punch aside by catching the inside of his wrist with the outside of her forearm, but a single knuckle caught her on her cheek, forcing her head to turn left and jarring her a little. It wasn't at all serious, but it did succeed in making her halt the offensive.

Her body moved on instinct, and she retreated as her head turned back, taking a short hop a couple of feet backwards to try and avoid any following retaliation. She kept her right leg behind her, foot cocked up, and her hands came back to a defensive position once more.

But it would only be a temporary stall in her advance. If she hadn't been so focused on the fight, she might have recalled a famous quote: "We are not retreating -- we are advancing in another direction."

[10/17]

Grunting with uncertainty, Roen would watch as Griffen began making adjustments to his mechanical arm, obviously perplexed that there would be something wrong with the appendage. Apprehensive to the limits of machinery and not the type of cut-throat b*****d that would take advantage of man not at the ready, the Devil would relax his stance and stand up straight, rolling his shoulder blades while raising his hands down to the hem of his button-down shirt. Curling his torso forward and gripping the shirt within his hands, Roen would divest the fabric from his body and gather the garment up into his hands before tossing it to the side and onto the speakers that were previously brought up. Even though they were at a port city, it was still hot with the sun beaming over head, and it would show on his naked torso.

Fan service at it's best, Roen bared all for the T.V crews to see. Hair covered chest, Redgrave seal black as night on his right arm, sweat glistening upon his collar and back (if they cared to look past his long hair). Even his muscles, if looked at on an H.D screen, seemed to ripple and squirm underneath even the most gentle of breezes. When inspected, his entire body appeared to be riddled with energy, as if he were an explosion of action waiting to happen. His face told the whole story: A wall of grim determination and intent. He was here to win the right way and would not settle for anything else. With the crowds screaming 'Jormungandr' all around the building upon which and Griffen did battle on, The Devil's pride would rebel and take the initiative to prove that he was not only the better swordsman; but the better warrior.

It seemed the man was ready now, and after that brief respite, it was time to fight once again. "Show me what you've got, Griff!" Lifting his fists up and leaning forward, Roen began to move, feet crossing over one another in purposeful strides that brought him ever closer to Griffen. Once within striking range of one another, the Devil would send his left fist careening towards the center of Griff's face in one fluid lunge, attempting to punch him square in the nose. Not so much power to break the man's nose; but enough to get the point across that this fist fight wasn't going to end in one glorious punch yet would be decided through slow attrition and a test of sheer will power. Unless Griffen had other plans, of course.

5/17

Edit:: Fist, not foot.

Now there a few things both fighters had done this day that could have been called mistakes, depending on how you looked at it. For example, perhaps if she had deployed the stun gun function of her tonfa earlier, then the fight could have been more in her favor. Maybe if Ed had held on to his maul after it had been depleted, he could have used it as a blunt weapon and ended things by now.

But now, moving in slowly, giving Sabrina more than enough time to gather her bearings? To her, that was a definite error.

Just as Ed moved within striking range, just before he started to throw a jab, he would feel his torso being yanked down and forward. How?

That piece of earth that she'd left attached to the front of his shirt, directly on top of his chest. She pulled on him as if she had a fistful of the fabric, using her Terrakinesis, rather than her Geomancy.

Abilities Wrote:

Terrakinesis: A psionic ability that allows one to move earth with the power of their mind. The strength of Sabrina’s Terrakinesis is just powerful enough to allow her to lift rocks and other types of earth in quantities of up to 30 lbs at once, and push up to 50 lbs along a flat surface. However, there is a drawback: using this natural-born ability requires substantial amounts of energy – nearly as much as moving it by physical strength alone, and extended use takes a toll. She is able to use it to complement her Geomancy.

She figured 50 pounds of downward force, applied without warning, would catch him off guard, and cause him to bend forward and disturb his center of gravity. If he was dedicated to the jab (unlikely as that was), the strike would land on her body rather than her face, but being a jab, which was about speed rather than power and meant to rattle someone's brain long enough to land a heavier punch, it wouldn't prove much a hindrance. In fact, he might even hurt his hand a little against her chainmail.

Once he bent forward, she would have a clear, vulnerable target: the top of his skull, only a foot from her chest. First, her left arm clamped down around the back of his neck, hooked in such a manner that she could control the movement of his head and escape would not be easy. She also kept her elbow tucked in, to make it difficult to get a limb in there and break it. It was all a quick snap of a movement, intended to get a secure hold of him as soon as he came down and before he could react.

Assuming she could get a firm hold, she would hold him down hear her chest, as her right forearm snapped down in a quick, decisive hammer blow, rapping the outer edge of her metal weapon against the upper rear area of his cranium, a particularly sensitive spot guaranteed to rattle him severely. Simultaneously, her right knee came forward and up, in an attempt to bury a Mythril kneepad in the center of his face.

She was gonna end this, right here, right now.

[11/17]

The jab was a feint the whole time.

But that mattered very little at that point.

Once more, and for the frustratingly umpteenth time, Sabrina manipulated the earth around her. Except this time it wasn't a pothole on the ground; she metaphysically pulled down on Ed's shirt, startling the cocky cyberpunk and bending him over at the waist, leaving Sabrina one extremely successful chick. Sure, his opponent had succeeded with the pull, but it would be the last time she pulled that shenanigan. Fifty pounds of pull carried a lot of force and Edward's thin t-shirt had no chance. It was ripped off entirely, revealing lean muscle, scar tissue, and a series of tattoos.

Immediately, Edward felt his opponent's hand put his neck in some sort of hold. He wasn't familiar with it, because that was neither here nor there anyways. Gathering his wits about him, the cyborg automatically dropped down to both knees, changing the comfortable level of head-to-chest to a significantly lower head-to-thigh. To even maintain the hold Sabrina would have to fully extend her arm and bend over herself. Her hammer blow which was already coming to fruition, considering the attack was just a movement of her forearm, wouldn't get very far either. It gave Ed all the time he needed.

Thus far, every single motion Edward made was explosive and in quick succession, and his hands reaching outwards wasn't any different. Both hands shot forth thunderously like the ravenous maws of a beast; hands attempting to wrap around Sabrina's ankles. He pulled with all his might.

The end result was simple. The cyborg pulled on Sabrina's legs with significantly more strength than her Terra-whatever, easily uprooting the girl's feet and causing her to topple backwards onto her back and head.

-Twelve-

((Edited: Changed was to wasn't. I'm retard.))

Sabrina would fall onto her back and the cyborg would be fast upon her. He felt unbelievably tired though even as he attempted to climb atop his opponent. He was exhausted and beat, breathing at that point was becoming trouble, and the cyborg was sweating up a storm. But Edward couldn't relent now. Not with victory at hand. So he pushed onwards, crawling forward and pushing up against Sabrina's neck hold. The girl couldn't possibly expect to keep his entire being at bay with a single arm, and then he was struck with the tonfa on the top of his skull. The attack wouldn't do as well on thr ground as it would had Sabrina been standing, but it easily cracked the skin and drew blood. It also struck something incredibly hard and would probably ricochet away.

Skull Plate Wrote:

After a painful skull fracture, a metal plate was placed under the skin on Edward’s skull. Any hits to his skull will hurt like normal, but in cases where an unarmed strike is used. The offending body part might feel pain from striking the hard steel.

He's stop, his right arm moving up to guard his skull and left extended towards Sabrina's face. Edward would attempt hammer fist after hammer fist with his cybernetic arm, aiming to hit his opponent in multiple targets spread across her face. The cyborg's prosthetic limb was made to deliver attacks even more devastating than his kicks, and each and everyone of his attacks had the potential of ****** st up bad. This wasn't looking good for Sabrina.

-Thirteen-

((st post. It's 4AM and I'm tired as st. Good night.))

"s**t," swore Sabrina as she struck and found that the attack seemed to have no effect. He kept pulling himself up over her body. But really, it was fine if she couldn't keep him from coming . . . because that's not what she wanted. All she needed was to keep his head close to her body, and he only facilitated that by crawling up along her body, making no move to pull his cranium away. When he came up about level with her ribs, she moved her hand and arm so as to slip it back around his neck again, putting him in a proper headlock and crushing his face against her stomach. It would stop his progress there, and hamper his breathing some -- not that this latter detail mattered much, it being so late in the fight that the whole thing would probably be over before it made much of a difference.

Meanwhile, after her weapon had rebounded off the hardened surface of his head (something normal skulls did not do), Sabrina pulled her weapon back up near her shoulder, wondering just how much of this guy wasn't artificial. And wouldn't you know it, that was when he chose to raise that scary looking metal fist of his, the one that he had neglected to use, except to defend and throw a hatchet, for the entirety of the battle. She'd almost forgotten that it existed.

It seemed, though, that he simply liked to save it for when the chips were down.

Our young heroine (or villainess, if you were a supporter of Team Cannon f*****t) barely had time to bring raise her right arm in front of her face, angling the body of the tonfa so that when his fist came down, it struck with a burst of sparks, and slid along the smooth metal surface to pound directly into the roof so hard that she could feel it quiver beneath her back.

Keeping his mug pressed against her body, Sabrina ran through her list of options -- it wasn't a very long one. One stood out, but she hesitated to employ it. Still, it was the only viable one she could think of. Drawing on more stamina, leaving her dangerously low at this point, she focused more energy within her as she positioned her tonfa so that she could move it quickly to defend either her head again, or her right side, if he chose to try and attack her ribs instead.

Unfortunately, she wasn't sure it could take many more blows from such a powerful appendage. They were currently at a stalemate, but it wouldn't stay that way forever.

[13/17]

Ah, the power of drawing a weapon. It was a risky proposition at such close range, but nothing could beat the sight of the opponent freaking out in order to avoid a weapon. Like bringing an M-16 to a bar fight, it often sent people running for cover so they could regroup and attempt to deal with the problem. Usually by avoiding it.

Stephen hadn't expected Seig to be so kind as to let him go like that, especially without disarming the sword or preforming any kind of major counter beyond spinning like a giant musclebound ballerina. But the man was not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. He was a little surprised when Seig drew a weapon of his own.

"A cane? I knew you acted older than you looked, but I didn't realize I was fighting an old man. My old sensei would be most disappointed to hear that I'm beating up on the elderly for fun and profit."

He drew his second sword with his left hand, giving the weapons a quick twirl before coming in to attack. Stephen swung the left hand blade towards the man's left shoulder, hopefully forcing Seig to guard with his weapon and leave his lower abdomen open as he attempted to place a follow up blow with the second sword just below the man's left kidney. If he decided to save his abdomen he risked a blow to the shoulder. Neither were intentionally maiming or lethal, but the swords had come out and someone was going to be messy by the end of this match - either with their opponent's blood or their own.

[7/17]

[Edit: - Post counter added]

CLANG! SHING!

Metal hit metal in satisfying chorus as the weapons collided. As Seig parried the second weapon, the first (left hand) would come down and pin the cane between the two swords. Stephen would then step back and twist the weapon counterclockwise up and around in order to attempt to wrench the cane from the black man's grasp.

Unfortunately, the choice of attack did mean that he was unable to guard his cro-

WHUMP!

...not again...

For such a devout christian, this man sure fought dirty as hell.

Deja Vu aside, Stephen's hands reacted by both pulling down and slamming up much harder and faster due to the pain, the attempted disarm getting a whole lot more force behind it due to the whole... resisting grabbing one's self in agony during a live televised broadcast instinct.

Oh, if only he had a nickel for the number of times he was glad he had a kid already...

[8/17]

Seig ecstuffaun Wrote:

"I say good sir. truly sorry about the whole crotch thing. Martial habit you know. I always get a little pushy when blades are involved you see."

So Sieg decided, as he felt his own grasp slowly slipping due to the opponents increased force...to simply let go of the cane and let it go flying off to his right side.

Stephen's jaw would have dropped had it not been clenched as he fought through the pain of the groin blow as best he did. Seig had just freely allowed his weapon to be sent flying while his opponent was letting the adrenaline build up in his system. Sutii was gonna need a couple seconds to really get past the pain, but ohhhhhh was he in a foul mood now.

As much as he wanted to run up and broadside Seig with the flat of one of his blades, he decided it best to take a moment to fight back the agony in his nether reigons. And as he did so began to speak. Something that another well known black man had taught him.

"There's this passage I got memorized. Ezekiel 25:17. 'The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the iniquities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he who, in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of the darkness, for he is truly his brother's keeper and the finder of lost children.'"

With this, he straightened up a bit and pointed his left hand weapon at his opponent.

" 'And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. And you will know my name is The Lord when I lay my vengeance upon thee.' "

Quote: Spiritual Catalyst: Stephen can use his spiritual energy to act as a catalyst required to perform elemental-like abilities. For example, he can use his energy as the key to create a strong gale, or a sudden burst of flame. In layman’s terms, it’s the spiritual equivalent to psychokinesis or evocation, but in a less complex manner. He is by no means a master of the various elements, and can only manipulate them on a fundamental level. For example, he can’t create earth out of thin air, but he can shape it when near natural ground. Abilities created through this method can be combined or multiplied in order to perform new attacks, but must stick to the fundamental requirements of the separate elements. Also, since Stephen’s energy acts as the catalyst, it is restricted to the same requirements as any of his other energy abilities. (Spiritual Ability)

Quote: Flame Burst: Stephen causes a five ft. burst of fire to seemingly shoot up from the ground, which quickly extinguishes after a second of intense heat. Stephen can continue to focus on a single burst in order to keep it alight for longer periods, or he can perform multiple bursts in close, rapid succession in order to give the illusion of pyrokinesis. Stephen can only create flames within a 30 ft. radius of himself, and extended usage will begin to take a toll on his energy reserves. R2 to initiate, R1 for each consecutive burst. (Spiritual Ability)

Fighting through the pain, Stephen focused his energy with added intensity and commanded a burst of flame to shoot up below Seig's feet, and focused on it so that it would last a bit longer than normal - he expected Seig to move, but unless the black had some serious precognitive powers, Stephen wanted to leave him with a parting gift for standing around like he was.

[9/17]

Stephen couldn't help but grin as his opponent took nearly getting his eyebrows singed off in stride.

"Amen.", he replied in turn.

He shifted towards Seig and came to attack. He came in and swung in with his left sword, swinging it at the man's left shoulder. The attack would never connect, however, as he pulled it in a feint in attempt to distract the man while the right hand blade came diagonally up (above the right hip across to the left shoulder) to give Seig a cut across the torso - nothing too deep, but enough to leave a good gash across the man's chest.

His blood was pumping, his face was dripping with sweat, and all the while he was having himself a blast. This man made for quite the challenge, and he felt a little guilty about using swords against fists. But he had his fair share of unarmed-vs-armed experience from this very tournament, so he figured that the martial artist could handle it.

If nothing else, having the divine on your side was good like that.

[10/17]

Stephen blinked as a pair of falling bricks were caught from midair. His face read along the lines of "...the hell did those come from?" Apparently the fire attack had a little more kick to it than he realized. Now was not the time to ponder over it though, as Seig's attack suddenly shuffled itself to the top of the priority list.

The left hand weapon that had feinted was still hanging around, and Stephen managed to wedge it between the fist brick and his face before the two collided, creating a strange crashing noise as metal object struck the non-metal one. Stephen was probably going to have to resharpen the edge on the weapon between rounds if he had the chance, since attempting to slice brick isn't the original purpose of a bladed weapon.

He brought up his forward leg (right) and preformed a front thrust kick to the mans chest in attempt to shove him back slightly and come down with the right blade to the left shoulder.

It was a shame, thought Stephen, that they weren't near the edge of the rooftops, because he was sort of hoping to get to street level at some point during this match and cause a little mayhem there. But at least this way there wasn't an issue of ring-out timers.

He would keep the left sword up for defensive purposes as this happened, since he knew better than to trust Seig to just take it. However, he wasn't afraid of getting his leg grab as much as he might, since Seig would have to sacrifice at least one arm to deal with it, and with two blades he needed as much arm power as he could get.

[11/17]

He moved as quickly as possible, his left foot skidding across the clay, apart from his right, working as a brace. Roen had him for a second, he wobbled a bit, but a take down did not happen. Meanwhile, his right hand reeled back and snapped back in an attempt to grab and then yank down at Roen's pony tail. To finish the move off, his left hand came flying in as a Frog Punch, zoning in on whatever the devil equivalent of a trachea is.

[6/17]

[Griff evades Roen's take down, grabs for his pony tail, tries to yank him backwards and punch him in the throat with a Frog Punch.]

HURK!

Griff's eyes shot straight down, his teeth gritting as his leg shuddered and he fell to his knee. Anger overtook him, and with his Frog Punch missing entirely, he brought his elbow back down with a roar, aimed for Roen's face!