HSF Aqualung

The H.S.F. Aqualung

"Feeling alone

the army's up the rode

salvation à la mode and

a cup of tea. "

This older Ferry has been in service for quite sometime in Latent waters. Because of her trustworthy bows and three tiered decks( especially the poop deck), Noah commissioned the Aqualung and her shabby looking captain to take people to the Ark and back.

The captain highly dislikes his ship being damaged. Ergo, any time the ferry takes damage, he jerks the ferry to scramble the fighter's fancy footwork as to say:

"EY KNOCK IT OFF YE FUKKIN' RICH FAERIES"

He also likes staring at women.

A lot.

General - The ferry that totes people to and from the famed Ark. Has three tiers. First tier being 10ft X 10ft, second 20ft (length) X 5ft with due to the captain's cabin making it a narrow walk way, and third 30ft X 30ft with a decently sturdy railing. It can be broken.

Weapons - It's a boat. Be creative.

Natural Element Resource - + Water / + Wood / + Electricity

Bonus Effects - RING OUT in effect. When the ship takes enough damage i.e. up rooting up of wood, the captain will jostle the ship to try and mess up the fighters footing.

H.S.F Aqualung - Cabin

The not so dreaded psion gazed at himself in the mirror of the ships cabin. Intense eyes gazed right back at him and with such focus he found balance such that the monotonous wavering of the sea-born ship went unnoticed. He looked different in more ways than one. Superficially, the first thing one would notice was that Tres's once wild dreads had been tied back in a ponytail that had been cut short. However the change in his hairstyle was superficial compared to the way it felt being around him. The spark of excitement tinged the air and intermingled with the sense of ominous foreboding.

Tres gazed out of his window into the beautiful blue sky and muttered; "A storm is coming." and those words were not those of fear but of determination. The psion had been scared, anyone who was poised to fight the great Ebris ought to be lest they be a fool. Yet the psion, publicly thought of as the fearless leader of the rebellious faction of the city of doors, had worked through that fear and was left only with a sense of purpose.*

Now was the time for the psion to live up to the legacy set before him by his family. Neither his mother or father had ever had to face the savage bounty hunter known as Ebris and despite their renown it was fiercely debated or contended whether the Ecstuffuans could match the monstrous butchery that Ebris brought to bear against his enemies.

The challenge that lay before Tres could either cement him in the annals of history or they could reveal his glaring faults and weaknesses which would be stamped out. The challenge that lay before Tres would serve as an example to his people because in this fight, despite Tres's popularity, despite Tres's many victories, despite everything the psion was the underdog here. However, Tres had always been an underdog and like all those other times he proved that he was worthy of his name he would prove it again here against the ultimate adversary.

The psion fiercely turned away from his mirror and left his room. With nothing but fierce determination in his eyes. At every moment he visualized the battle. He visualized being maimed, brutalized, savaged and in doing so he realized that he was ready for this. Naturally the images of victory and dominating that which could not be dominated flooded his mind in equal measure and the psion felt both the powers of heaven and hell well up in his belly. He arrived at Tier one, the highest point of the ship.

Tres started with a bit of meditation by sitting in the center of the first tier, a practice of visualization, attaining his psionic focus, and spiritual preparation. Then, he stood to his feet and began shadow boxing. Until he received a message on his FIGHTER.

Sins of an Angel Wrote:

Speaking of team - where the hell was everyone else?

"S'cuse me."

Oriel approached, fully dressed in his dragonplate, sword strapped to his back. He was the striking resemblance of his mother, a previous Heaven or Hell competitor, Asherah Eria. "You're Miss Ryke, right?" Amidst all the clanking, his voice was much softer than most fighters, and he didn't talk (to strangers, anyway) in the cocky tone of your average professional face-squisher. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Oriel." He extended a hand, hoping to shake.

Somewhere, a peal of thunder cracked out throughout the sky, immediately followed by several subsequent, rattling THOOMS.

There were no storm clouds out at all that day.

This was not Athan's first time fighting on a boat during the Heaven or Hell tournament. During his debut nearly six years ago, Athan went toe-to-toe with Shouyin Velvel of Team Glacier fame and damn near pulled off the upset. In the end, however, it was Athan's rage that cost him a chance to appear in the finals and, albeit indirectly, led to the loss of his right arm.

Suffice to say, Athan was not particularly fond of the stage his team had been given for the first formal round of the tournament. His left arm had more or less healed completely from the preliminary stages, though precautionary measures had led to Athan fully bandaging his forearm and covering the arm with a repaired bracer. In fact, the bracer was the only piece of equipment Athan was currently wearing, as the rest of his armor was bundled up and slung over his left shoulder along with all three of his swords being strapped to his back. It was an impressive arsenal, but seeing as how Athan had no idea who the hell it was Ebris had picked for him to fight, Athan decided to bring all of it but wear none of it.

Equipment aside, Athan's size alone was enough to give most people pause. Six feet, eight inches tall and built like a tank, Athan was, physically, every bit the hulk that the media played him out to be. Casually strolling up behind Ryke before dropping his armor to the ground with a large crash, Athan cast a quick glance towards the man currently engaged in conversation with her. The man was covered head-to-toe in armor, but didn't have the look of someone who was Athan's "typical" matchup. Then again, not every team had someone that could go toe-to-toe with the big man, and even then...appearances were misleading, as evidenced by his matchup with Ryugi in the preliminaries.

Athan didn't speak a word, but if he made eye contact with either of the two he'd simply nod his head as he went to work undoing the lashings that held his armor bundle in place. His swords would be carefully laid out on the ground next to him, and assuming he could find a bench or something similar to sit down on, he'd begin the long slow process of fastening his armor, starting with his legs and working up.

Avatar of Virtue Wrote:

"We're a bit hard to miss, huh?" He chuckled, flicking his forehead jewel with a chuckle. "Yeah, she's my mother." As he released her hand, he rolled onto a heel, leaning to the guard rail. "She told me about fighting with you when I was a kid. Time s**t."

"Kinda yeah."

She listened, leisurely to Oriel's explanation, or at least the abridged version of one and only raised her eyes in mild surprise. Still, things like that happened often enough around here. Gaia was ... well it was her home and it was an interesting place at times.

"Ookayy, I'll leave it at that then. So, you're Ash's kid. I've met Fayble, and if memory serves, I met another gal just last year who kinna looks like you too. Rell? Anyway - it's been ages since I've seen Ash. Hope she's doing well. Heard she met someone nice and settled down again."

Explained a few things, for sure. She mentally scratched her head over the idea, but outwardly, her appearance did not change.

Quote:** Wrote:

THOOM. THOOM. Thoom. Thoom.

"...That must be Bigguns, huh?"

The thunderous crack was hard to miss, and it could have easily been mistaken for an incoming storm were the sky any less clear. It wasn't really until Oriel made the implication that it clicked with Ryke.

Crap.

Ebris was on his merry ol' way alright. His entrance was not about to be forgotten if what she predicted was true.

"I'd say that's a logical conclusion to come to yeah. Hoo boy. Let's uh ... let's wander on over this way." She gestured closer to one side of the deck, leaving a wide clearing for any expected arrivals.

For a man of his size, Athan was eerily silent when he wanted or needed to be, but he alerted them to his presence by dropping his equipment down on the deck just behind Ryke, only mildly startling her. She glanced over her shoulder to spy the mountainous form of her teammate. Used to Ebris' hulking figure looming over her, Athan's presence was really no different.

Except that he was quiet.

"Oh. Hey!" She half-saluted with a casual, friendly greeting. At least someone besides her had shown up. She wasn't even fighting!

The HSF AquaLung

The sound of thunder echoed through the water craft stealing each competitors attention. Soon after the crack of the impending storm faded into memory another sound followed behind it. At first it was feint but then the coalition of both teams that stood waiting began to hear the chatter and whispers of an impossibly large group of people. The voices seemed to echo out from the horizon of the sea and one would wonder did this massive crowd lurk beneath the tide. In a short span of time the murmurings of a crowd that did not exist would grow into fevered hoots and calls. Yet this sound that had grown noticeably loud had not yet elevated to a discernible pitch but in short order it would become apparent to everyone on the ship that they were chanting his name.

TRES TRES TRES TRES TRES TRES TRES TRES TRES TRES TRES

The doors of the first tier flung open with a loud bang, revealing an almost impenetrable darkness within. The teams whom gathered upon the third tier could see a strange phenomenon piercing through the infinite black of the door frame. Thin streams of light ran along what seemed to be a humanoid cardiovascular system who's body was positioned with its back facing towards them and its arms held out straight.

Suddenly music would explode out all around the ship. Light erupted from the door frames opening simultaneously revealing the figure within. As he came into view, he turned smoothly on the balls of his left foot almost leisurely spinning his body to face his adoring fans. Once he faced them he walked with incredible swagger and pomp out into the bright sunlight of the open blue sea.

He was some how simultaneously imposing and yet majestic. He was a threatening man who at first glance appeared to be only somewhat smaller than the largest competitors. His athletic lanky body was covered in dense cords of muscle that were like steel cables wrapped taught upon a form made for hand to hand combat. Yet, these features were forgettable when compared to how absolutely almost uncomfortably beautiful he was.

He did not wear much. Looking at him would make women swoon and the most heterosexual male quietly question himself. He wore only a pare of MMA shorts and wrestling shoes, exposing his bare hairless chest. His chest did however sport a leather strap, which held a long length of what seemed to be an emerald green crystal vaguely shaped like a short sword onto his back.

His creamy light brown skin reflected the bright tropic sunlight with the same subtle specular quality as marble. His lusty eyes gazed deep with desire and glowed ever so slightly with a silvery light. His gem encrusted dreaded hair had been cut short recently and what was left of it was tied in a tight pony tail that stayed still behind his neck. As he walked forward onto the small stage his arms swayed gently at his side. One would notice that his left arm was not composed of flesh, but of smooth crystal that meld smoothly into his flesh. The psion held an article of seemingly religious significance upon his forehead, in the form of a green third eye dot but despite that looking at him either evoked a sensation of carnal lust or explosive excitement.

Tres stopped in the center of the first tier and lifted his cyrstalline left hand up high with a bawled fist. The invisible crowd erupted in shouts of admiration and applause. Tres turned his head slowly as if he were basking in the glow of the sun, but instead he was feeling the power of the millions and millions of his fans. Though they were not here he could feel their spirits shouldering their champion. The invisible crowd continued to shout in excitement even as Tres brought his crystalline arm down. Unlike usual the confident psychic didn't have much to say. This was different from any other fight that he had ever been in.

Ebris was no Jabroni. Tres honestly had been a fan of the man since he watched his mom and dad compete in this tournament during Bloody Panda's first appearance. This fight was a dream come true but it was more complicated than that. Tres had the fate and moral of millions riding on his performance in this fight.

Tres looked around for his opponent as he removed his mind blade from its sheath at his back. As he brandished the weapon, the crystal would miraculously dissolve into an semi liquid like form. The emerald green material would form over Tres's right hand like a gauntlet.

As Ryke turned to greet Athan, the big man nodded his head and offered a fairly curt "hey" as a response. He had been doing quite a bit of thinking in the time between the preliminary rounds and this day, leaving him with a bit of a somber attitude in the meantime. Of course, the threat of an upcoming battle had a way of shaking someone back into the real world, and as Athan finished fastening the shadesteel gauntlet to his left hand, Athan felt his senses come fully back to him. Standing up, Athan slipped himself into his breast plate and finished donning his armor. Rolling his shoulders, Athan tested the range of motion afforded by his armor to ensure that he had fastened it correctly, then turned his attention back to the man that was, apparently, his designated opponent.

Avatar of Virtue Wrote:

"Well, sir, it looks like we'd ought to get this shindig going, and unless I'm mistaken, you're the hulk they've been talking about."

"Guess so. Unless you're talking about Ebris. He's the dumb one."

Athan patted his left bicep, the only unarmored portion of his body, with his right hand. It wasn't that uncommon for Athan to be referred to as a "hulk" or a "brute" or any other similar word. Still, there was a part of him that found it kind of upsetting that it was all he was known for. The other part of him, however, embraced that knowledge. There were few in the world that could go blow-for-blow with Athan and the fact that others recognized it was a bit of a badge of honor.

Athan eyed the man a little more closely as he brandished his sword and shield. The configuration wasn't something that was at all foreign to the swordsman. He was, after all, a mercenary. Still, this was the first time Athan had encountered the combination in Heaven or Hell competition.

Avatar of Virtue Wrote:

"Athan, I'd like to challenge you."

"Suit yourself."

Athan knelt down to inspect his collection of swords. The Rook's Destroyer was the largest of the three, heavy as hell and just as tall as Athan was from pommel-to-tip. From there, the swords seemed to get smaller by about half in total size, though their length was relatively similar. The "smallest" of the bunch, a weapon that was nearly five and a half feet tall and, while of a similar style to a claymore, was much thicker, was the first weapon that Athan grabbed, scabbard and all. That weapon was thrown over his back, and his right hand went towards a second sword, the second largest of the three. The weapon that Athan picked as his "main" was slightly over six feet in height, nearly ten inches wide at the base of the weapon, and looked thick enough to be almost more comparable to a beam of steel than a sword. Athan easily hefted the massive weapon onto his right shoulder as he stood up to his full height of six feet, eight inches, and casually strode across the deck to stand opposite of Oriel.

"Whenever you're ready."

_______The holds of the HSF Aqualung was devoid of movement. Of course, no one was going to sit at the hold of the ship, where the cargo was held while the ferry moved from one body of land to another. From the shadows therein appeared a man, shrouded in darkness; a pale, masked man dressed in black clothes, with a black sword sheathed on his waist and three masks hanging from his pants' waistline.

"I abhor the light."

_______Indeed it was very dim in here. Unfortunately, Malenexum was well-aware that his team would require his assistance soon. If he didn't show up on time, he'd be risking his team losing due to lack of assists. The vampire looked upwards at a door with a large peeping hole on it. Other than a few cracks from the bolts and slight deterioration on the ship here and there, it was the main source of dim light the holds had. Malenexum began to walk towards it, hating every step of the way to the light. How these humans stand such brightness was beyond him.

_______As he walked, Malenexum used the FIGHTER on his hand to leave a message to his team:

Code:

ODESSA:

I am on the ship, inside. If you require my assistance for Striker, don't hesitate to ask. They won't know what hit them.

18; Prev: Pg 32, HoH '12 [Latent] The Crimson Hawk

The pink-haired woman was honestly aghast at the amount of gaudy her mentor had put into simply appearing for the fight. True, it was in her nature and their relationship to take the needle to his ego so often, but COME ON! She shook her head before noticing the message on her FIGHTER.

Code: I just love last minute adjustments.

Gloria looked up as Ryke spoke to her. Either the young woman was as relaxed as herself, or she was just trying to seem so. She didn't really set off Gloria's 'Oh s**t' detectors... but that really didn't mean much in this sort of environment.

Tapping the toe of of her boot against the deck of the ship, She smiled at Ryke, nodding before taking two steps back to put a bit of distance between them.

"Okay cutie," she said after a moment. "I hope you're rough enough for me." Her hands come up near her face, a soft boxer's stance as she waited for opponent to advance.

The Duke of Id Wrote:

+++Dzan had disappeared the second he gotten onto the ship. A small sadistic smirk grew across his pierced lips. His eyes were bloodshot. He had completely sobered up and let his anger take control. He wasn't anywhere near his team for fear he'd even attack those mutant gakkers. Those people that would condemn themselves to a world with the mutie, the xeno, the daemon, and the meta. He was outside a door staring at it. Just staring. As if he wasn't paying attention his wooden bat, with a slith-ton of nails nailed through it, in hand.

+++It's not like he was there for a fight. Gym shorts, steel toed boots, and a wife beater adorning his frame. He was waiting. Always waiting. For the one person that would be against him in this time and place. A vampire. A xeno and a mutie that had caused the problems throughout Dzan's war torn life. Somehow, someway, he knew that the gakkin' Vamp would find where he was. They always did.

Athan's arms felt real solid impact, but the shield didn't offer the same type of give that a body would have. And just as soon as he felt that solid contact, the feeling was gone and Athan completed his follow through. Oriel's sword lashed out without anything to stop it from its intended path, carving out a thin scar in Athan's breastplate and nearly slicing into the underside of his right arm in the process. Athan didn't wait for Oriel to get his footing. Seizing the opportunity while his opponent was off-balance, Athan surged forward, readjusting his grip so that his left hand was now taking the lead and his right was providing support further down the hilt. Of course, how was he supposed to know the captain of the boat was going to be a colossal d**k?

Avatar of Virtue Wrote:

> Captain Aqualung Wrote: > Captain Aqualung snatched up the microphone as Adamant sliced through the polished boards of the deck. "HEY, YA SLACK JAWED FAERIE WEIRDO! YOU PAYIN' FER THAT!? CAUSE NOAH AIN'T the cheap st ****' warp suckin' weirdo. Fought ****' fruits like him back in 'Nom, I tell you what, piece of st, see how much you like THIS!?" > > > > > The boat creaked loudly, all at once as the deck tipped intensely in the direction of (Even = Oriel, Odd = Athan), leaving him below his opponent at a hefty angle, the waxed wood leaving very little in the way traction for armored boots.

Captain Aqualung snatched up the microphone as Adamant sliced through the polished boards of the deck. "HEY, YA SLACK JAWED FAERIE WEIRDO! YOU PAYIN' FER THAT!? CAUSE NOAH AIN'T the cheap st ****' warp suckin' weirdo. Fought ****' fruits like him back in 'Nom, I tell you what, piece of st, see how much you like THIS!?"

The boat creaked loudly, all at once as the deck tipped intensely in the direction of (Even = Oriel, Odd = Athan), leaving him below his opponent at a hefty angle, the waxed wood leaving very little in the way traction for armored boots.

The ferry suddenly listed downwards immediately in front of him and next thing Athan knew he was basically running downhill. His balance thrown off, there was no way Athan was going to mount an effective attack with his sword being so reliant on his ability to keep his footing. Athan stomped his feet down with every passing step, but given the footing underneath there was no way Athan could stop himself in time, so he brought his sword out in front of him, extended the flat of the blade horizontally across his midsection as though it were a makeshift shield, planted his right hand against the flat of the sword. At this point, Athan looked as though he had accepted his fate and now, instead of attempting to crush the smaller man under his sword, would simply run over him.

If Oriel made no counter attack, Athan would basically utilize what momentum he had left to try and push the flat of his sword straight into Oriel's face, in effect bowling the guy over and then trampling him underfoot. By then, hopefully, the ferry would realign itself so he didn't keep running straight over the side of the deck.

Because, as most people knew, there were few things that could stop the Cole train. Even the Cole train himself.

[2/17]

Ebag The II Wrote:

+++He was outside a door staring at it. Just staring. As if he wasn't paying attention his wooden bat, with a slith-ton of nails nailed through it, in hand.

_______Of course the vampire would come to him. Why wouldn't he? Even as the ship tossed and turned, and as a loud, angry captain screamed his lungs out into a microphone in the background, it seemed like time had stopped for Malenexum and Streea. An aura of deep conflict surrounded them. Darkness seemed to follow the vampire to the door, as an empty tube of sunscreen was lazily dropped on the floor.

_______Footsteps leading up to the door echoed across through the door and to Dzan's ears, enough to perhaps disturb his trance if only slightly. See, the door Dzan was staring at had a head-sized peeping hole; one of those large, round, metal-framed windows that boats and ships are notorious for. It was through this window that a faint image would rise up from the tar-colored darkness that resided within. It was a face. A mask-less face...

A smiling, mask-less face.

Fangs larger than they should be.

Blue eyes shining in the dark.

Ears shaped, in a way, oddly.

Skin paler than birch wood bark.

_______Not a word was said. The expressions between the two of them signaled it all. This is where words stayed quiet and emotions sang their paintings in the bare for all to see. A single word could set either man off, and the fight could start. A movement. A change. It was like nitroglycerin being brought to a peaceful place, then left there in stillness... yet its presence alone was threatening. Any slight change could set it off.

These two anathemas were clashing without touching.

Without even knowing each other, their hearts raced in the same rhythm:

The Rhythm... of Hate.

19; Prev: Pg 2, HoH '12 [Round 1] The H.S.F. Aqualung

The Duke of Id Wrote:

+++Dzan's eyes lit up. The bronze orbs flaring as he saw that which was anathema to life. That which was anathema to the very existence of humanity and it made him grin. A slith-eating grin spread across those pierced lips. Teeth that had been stained crimson. Teeth that weren't all his nor were they all real. The pure look on his face was of insanity. A man that had nothing to lose and everything to gain. A man that would find out now if he still had his anger. A man that began to....giggle.

+++He got up and cracked his back. The baseball bat being hefted to his shoulder while his eyes never left the gakker before him. He already knew what it was. What it could do. What it wanted to do. And he was prepared for the whole thing. With but a nod it would be said a done.

It was time to fight!

HSF JIMBO

A storm is coming

As the sound of the millions was drowned out by the roar of machines and the light of the world was cast away beneath the shadows of something massive above his head, Tres turned on his heels and gazed up. His emerald armored right hand came up to shield his eyes from the intense light and in that moment the psion knew that his entrance had been out done. Behind his polarizing hand, a smirk grew on his eerily beautiful face coupled with a well of excitement in his belly.

As his eyes grew comfortable with the shining light he brought his hands down and leaned forward almost as if he were trying to stretch his neck up to the ramp that slowly extended from the ship overhead. The psions eyes were wide with anticipation that bordered on absolute mania and the wry grin on his face was that of a man in pure ecstasy.

This was it.

This was the moment where Tres surpassed his father. It was the crossroads of his destiny and before at the hotel, when Tres had learned of his match he feared it. Now, something had replaced that fear. It was a feeling that the psion could barely understand. This would not be easy. This was going to be the fight of his life and all he could look forward to from here on out was brutal pain and yet...

None of it mattered.

What mattered was the fact that fighting was what Tresondros Ecstuffuan was born to do. It was what mother Ioun had put him on this rock to do. It was his purpose and this battle.

This was the ultimate expression of his existence.

This man. Destroying him was all he wanted in that moment as he gazed up into the massive ship.

And so, the Psion called out:

"You making up for something with that ship of yours Jabroni!"

Then...

WHUCRACK!

The big son of a b***h landed in front of Tres. Time seemed to slow down in that moment. It was as if reality took a moment to take notice of a great happening. The psion noted his size, but was not intimidated by it. He respected it, he took it into his mind and yet he made no plans or assumptions based upon it. Simultaneously as Ebris rose to his full height, Tres drifted easily into his boxing stance.

Tres did not consciously acknowledge the moment when Ebris attacked.

Ebris was fast, frighteningly so for someone so large. Yet Tres was something more than fast, the psion was cerebral. Mind and body literally and figuratively came together as one within the psion. At a subconscious level the psion recognized the head butt and the psion reacted viciously! He did not react with mere training but with the inbred fighting ability he was born with.

They were close in inside boxing range. As Ebris leaned in for the head butt Tres brought his left crystalline elbow up with not only the strength of the supernatural limb but with the strength of his back, waist and legs. He would twist his waist in a counter clockwise turn bringing the gemstone like point of his left elbow up to smash into the bridge of the bounty hunters noes before the bounty hunters head ever met its mark. In the strike his left forearm would come up in front of the left side of his face. A wave of energy would course in that moment through Tres's arms and his eyes would spark with silvery light.

The Duke of Id Wrote:

> Ebag The II Wrote: > It was time to fight!

THOOM!

_______Indeed it was! The sound of a heavy thud permeated the ears of the human cyborg followed shortly by the sound of excessive splintering. The door would suddenly burst apart into dozens of chunks of wood, big and small, as a single arm traversed through it followed by the pale body of the vampire. Unfortunately a glimpse is all that Dzan would catch if he looked to catch Malenexum in the act. For right when the undead monster burst the door into pieces and exposed himself to the bright light outside, a blank mask would be thrown along the wooden deck. It would shine bright purple before turning completely black, and from it extended a shadow that encompassed the both of them.

"YOUR BLOOD IS MINE!"

_______Once the darkness encompassed the both of them, Streea would realize he was in pitch black darkness. There was exactly 0 amount of light within this dome. Only the quickly approaching sounds of thuds against the wooden deck and the shouts of an angry ferry captain would give the indications that the battle had started. The ship tilted left-wise and caused a slight misstep from the vampire's behalf, before a diagonally upwards slash towards Strea's right---

It was time to fight!

GOT YOU b***h!

+++Dzan didn't see slith. Dzan didn't hear slith, but he felt it all. The slash would go in and blood spilled forth freely. Until it slammed into Dzan's newest little addition that very very few knew about. The cybernetic kidney that he had to have installed after his rival Bishop completely destroyed it. Thus stopping the fatal slash into a deep punctured wound. Blood spilled forth as Dzan laughter echoed out. Laughter that meant only one thing. The guy before him was now officially trapped.

+++Dzan's right hand, at the same time the vampire would feel the sudden blockage within Dzan's body would grab that wrist. A grip that wouldn't let go as blood gushed out and drenched the floor. Dzan's cackling echoing outward as he then knew the location of his opponent and what happened next? The baseball bat fell over and over and over again. The nails would implant into the guy's body. Wood, silver, adamantium, rusted, and everything else. Head, torso, arms, legs, and everything else would be his target as Dzan, quite literally, went berserk on bloodlust.

1

+++Dzan cackled even more as his hand was moved closer to his throat. The vampire's hand moving despite him holding onto it and straight onto his throat. It only made him cackle through it even more. Then he was lifted up and the cybernetic hand clamped down. Strength suddenly increasing as it would slowly squeeze the wrist. Possibly even adding stress fractures to his bones, but it meant only one thing to Dzan. He had an easier shot for the slith-eater's face.

+++As he was lifted he choked up on the bat and brought it down with full force of his muscle and cybernetic enhancements within his left arm. Enhancements that them alone could absolutely disfigure and maim a face. Add a baseball bat and the spikes on top of that and you had one hell of a hit. As his opponents other hand would grab his pants that bat would be smashing straight into the vampire's face. Most likely breaking complete nails off inside his skin.

+++Then the whole would explode in light. The sword being jarred from his side by the force of his face slamming into the ground. Teeth cracked off and blood gushed forward from his broken nose and yet all that could be heard was still that giggle. His left hand never dropping his weapon as he'd fall and he merely swung it along the ground to where his opponent would be. To the top of the skull hoping to puncture the skull and slam it straight into the brain. Yes, Dzan was playing dirty and he didn't give one gak as the blood poured from his wounds. His Healing Cell slowly trying to knit the damage that was already done. Mostly focusing on the sliced side of his. A nose could be repaired by a medicus. The vampire was just now learning just how far Dzan would go.

2

The Duke of Id Wrote:

> Ebag The II Wrote: > +++As he was lifted he choked up on the bat and brought it down with full force of his muscle and cybernetic enhancements within his left arm. Enhancements that them alone could absolutely disfigure and maim a face. Add a baseball bat and the spikes on top of that and you had one hell of a hit. As his opponents other hand would grab his pants that bat would be smashing straight into the vampire's face.

_______Malenexum's grin intensified as he lifted the cyborg up in the air and the cybernetic arm began to crush his left hand. As he felt the damage on the hand, he also saw the man's bat arm move around and aim, which caused him to instantly discard the idea of suplexing Streea at all. The right hand quickly let go of the cyberpunk's pants and slid itself upwards, forcefully pushing the human's left arm upwards into a uselessness as Malen's body straightened up completely but didn't lift Streea's body, legs' knees touching one another to avoid 'dirty hits'. The arm was too close to both of them, with a vampiric arm wrapped around it and a hand that would grab the wrist to ensure the nailbat wouldn't be in range to hit, much less gather enough momentum to be a threat. Normally the vampire disliked the idea of a wrestling match, but he wasn't about to get clobbered by a spiked bat by some punk human freak.

_______Since now both arms were stuck in place, and both of them were so close to each other, there was only one thing Malen could do. The only logical thing for a vampire to do...

"DI---"

+++As he was lifted he choked up on the bat and brought it down with full force of his muscle and cybernetic enhancements within his left arm. Enhancements that them alone could absolutely disfigure and maim a face. Add a baseball bat and the spikes on top of that and you had one hell of a hit. As his opponents other hand would grab his pants that bat would be smashing straight into the vampire's face.

+++The only thing the vampire could do was eat a nice hefty jab from a completely metal gakking fist. The second the hand left his throat Dzan let go of the wrist and fired off a sudden jab. Not one, but two in quick succession. Metal knuckles suddenly firing out to slam straight into that mouth that began to talk. Straight into those nice pointy little teeth. He would, most likely, break one or two of those things with the sudden ferocity of the jab. Though, after two it was more than likely to be expected that they would continue to occur until further notice. Or until the fragging vampire got out of the way. That, and if the vampire tried to grab the hand his skin would just slough off. Synthskin was nice in situations like this.

+++Meanwhile, the arm would be shoved upwards, but that didn't stop Dzan. With his fingers working around the bat he'd angle it down and stab it downwards. The sides of the bat weren't the only things spiked. So was the tip and it would go straight into the elbow of the man with a menace. Meaning to try and actually demolish tendons and gak mucle up.

+++At this time Dzan would be feeling the full effects of the blade in his side, but as it ate away it did one thing that helped it. It stopped the skin from suctioning to the blade and with an audible clang its grip would be lost and it'd hit the floor. Sure, at that point the wound had been increased and blood dripped down his side. His Healing Cell barely keeping up with the blood loss he was obtaining and thus went into full action to coagulate the blood centered around the ferocious wound.

The Duke of Id Wrote:

_______A grunt of pain escaped the vampire's lips as a fist-shaped miniature battering ram hit his cheekbone. Now this fight was beginning to get frustrating! This human was definitely not normal, and with two weapons and himself only having so many, Malen felt outgunned in a fight he should've been clearly winning. Fortunately for Malenexum he was a vampire, otherwise flying teeth and a broken jaw would've just added insult to injury!

_______As his ire rose and a second jab landed on his face, forcing blood to spit out his mouth and a pair of molars to get painfully cracked, the vampire caught the feeling and a small glimpse of the bat moving once more. Growling, he sent his left arm to Dzan's bat as it was being moved by the cyberpunk's fingers, since the human's left wrist was being grabbed and forced any movement of the bat to be done with the hand's digits... and yet, any such movement would leave the weapon's grip weakened while it was moved. It was only a matter of hitting it while it was being repositioned with finger-strength to sunder the weapon from Dzan's hand. Of course, in the meantime his sprained, slightly fractured left hand would get sliced and cut by a few nails of the bat, but hitting it with the left side of his left hand (in a 'chopping' motion) would prevent much of the damage, as opposed to using an open palm or fist to strike it... Even though that was a sacrifice the vampire was willing to take.

_______When the bat fell there was no more point to holding Streea in place. A third jab would continue to make its way to him, but he wouldn't stand around and take that punishment. Instead, he'd be the spiteful b*****d that he was, let Streea's left arm go---

[Shadowlight 1: Worn off]

[Shadowlight 2: Active]

[Vampirate: Charge 3]

[Devour: Failed]

Ⅳ

23; Prev: Pg 3, HoH '12 [Round 1] The H.S.F. Aqualung

+++It was all happening in a blink of an eye. Fists flying, teeth cracking, lips busting, and everything in between. Though, the second the left arm was released Dzan wasn't letting the man go. The bat clattered to the ground and Dzan's hand shot out suddenly and swiftly. As quick if not quicker than a Muy Thai fighter's attacks and grabbed the clothing at the man's shoulder thus turning the man as he tried to take that step back. Dzan taking a step forward with a sadistic grin on his face. This causing that kick of his opponent's to hit his hip, and how that hurt, but better than shoving a sword deeper into him. As the jarring impact sang through his body the sword would drop and Dzan's right arm was pulled back in a massive punch.

+++Despite the darkness and the pain Dzan could touch and feel his opponent and thus knew where everything was. That all changed as he interrupted this gakkin' mutant's next spell and suddenly light was all over the place. The vampire would see that fraggin' metal fist slamming square into his face as the lights came back. Most likely making them flicker out with the sudden force of his brain rattling around in its roll cage called a cranium. As he came to from the massive hit, if it even connected in the first place, he'd be meeting another one. His left hand gripping tight to the cloth and his fingers almost prying into the very flesh beneath.

+++The vampire before him had thought he had it all in the bag. Thought that this pesky little human before him would go down easily once the lights were out. Would go down easily from a wound; which was slowly knitting itself shut now that the weapon was removed and his Healing Cell had full attention on it. Thought that he was the superior race. Well, he thought wrong. Humanity was what drove the monster before the vampire into these acts. His pure anger at the meta, the mutie, the xeno, and the daemon. He had found a guy that had been named a champion of a past Heaven or Hell. A man that had fought men that could completely destroy the planet and survived to tell the tale. A man that, rumor had it, was unbeatable.

The Duke of Id Wrote:

_______The coat was grabbed by the right shoulder as the kick was sent. This, of course, would prevent Malenexum from properly backing away to strike from the shadows, but it would still slam his leg into the man's side, unfortunately helping his sword loose from Dzan's gaping wound as a side-effect. Nevertheless, not only was Malenexum fully aware that there was an steel-hard fist headed his way, but that he had to recast the spell otherwise he'd lose the fight. A grab to his clothes, however, didn't mean he couldn't reach the cord of his mask in time, much less overall stop the movement in general. It just meant the motion would be different-- instead of throwing the mask behind himself, it would be jerked forward as Malenexum's shoulder was brusquely restrained from moving backwards with the rest of his body. The mask would be tossed behind Streea, under the cyberpunk's right arm as his own shoulder was jerked forwards (and back towards Dzan), and the 'newly enchanted mask' would allow the darkness to remain; if at all, much less than a second's worth of light would shudder back to darkness once the mask was tossed.

That brief moment of light would allow the cyborg to catch a glimpse of Malenexum's enraged face and an earful of deep-rooted, low growls that vibrated across the cyberpunk's form like the tactile, heavy bass of a concert's speakers.

Like a daemon waking from its slumber.

Fangs growing.

Bone claws tearing through fingernails, replacing them.

Muscles tensing, growing thicker and stronger.

"GGGRRRRRROOOAAAAAHHHH!!!!"

_______When the darkness resumed, Dzan's fist continued its travel. He had already been keeping his eyes on Streea as he kicked and ripped the mask away from himself, so as the fist came close, Malen ducked forward with a deep, audible growl of hatred and allowed it to zoom over his head... But when the vampire would came back up.

24; Prev: Pg 3, HoH '12 [Round 1] The H.S.F. Aqualung

+++Dzan felt his attack miss and took a step forward. The vampire's shoulder touching his gut as he reacted fast when the vampire began to come up. His cybernetic arm coming down suddenly to the back of the vampire's head. Moving his face down towards his chest instead of his face. Over and over. A metal elbow all pointed and s**t driving to the back of a man's head. Oh yeah, that would definitely slowly break a skull.

+++Though, after a while he'd take a nice stomp backwards. Luck would have it that it'd crush the mask and completely break it. His sides were all torn up and blood was gushing from his wounds and he coughed up blood. He'd merely put his guard back up. His bronze eyes staring outwards with a sadistic grin on his face. Blood staining his teeth. Blood dripping down his lips. The fire in his eyes not even yet slack. The vampire may have thought he was a monster, but Dzan.... Dzan was the definition of monster.

The Duke of Id Wrote:

[align=center]

[size=12]_______As the vampire came up he was met with an elbow of metal, forcing the vampire back down as he attempted to straighten himself and facebite his opponent. In his state of berserk madness, he didn't even flinch from the blows, despite the bruising it left behind, that would now ensue as the creature's clawed hands finished reaching up to the cyberpunk's armpits.

+++Dzan's arm would then lock down on the vampire's own. His arms wrapping around as he began to get lifted up and he'd merely chuckle. The vampire's arms were now locked in place. That meant only one thing. Their legs and faces were going to do all the work and Dzan had plenty of work eating other people. As he was lifted and slammed to the ground his face went straight towards the vampires and began to bite through his lips.

+++As he slammed to the ground he'd rip the vampire's lips off before he'd slam his head forward again. Over and over and over again. His head slamming into the vampires for his arms were still held tight and the embrace was set. He wasn't letting go. The vampire could cut his sides up all over the place. He'd probably bleed out and die, but this vampire's face was going to be rearranged and deconstructed with the massive face to face blows. Dzan's own forehead cracked and bled, and his nose was broken multiple times from the massive headbutts. He didn't care. The vampire wanted to eat him. He'd break that face to the point of it would never truly work again.

THEN THE WORLD SPLIT

Pidgin Wrote:

1:37pmSARQ:Do I have permission to rescue Dzan's corpse from death?

1:38pmTenkai Matsumoto:isnt Ebag the one you should be asking that?is it okay with Ebag?

1:38pmSARQ:He asked me, yes, but.. idk

formalities of tournament content

1:38pmTenkai Matsumoto:Well considering this is a DQ'd fight anyway

,1:39pmand all you're doing is keeping him from dying

I say you can do it.

Mark in your post that I okayed it so long as you arent attacking anyone from Odessa

you're just pulling Dzan away from it.

if you can make good story out of it, all the better

The Duke of Id Wrote:

XXXXThe sharp smell of burning ozone would fill Malenexum's nose, overpowering the iron that surely swallowed Dzan's lungs. There was little time left to spare on keeping outsiders from seeing these happenings. Malenexum had helped out immensely with his Shadowlight dome. Radek, unlike Dzan, could see in low to no light. His eyes had abandoned relying on it years ago. Or did it just feel like years? The vampire would have time to recognize the smell before the sharp pain of a shallow blade bit into his back. Its appearance would remain hidden from all present, swallowed into the abysmal darkness that now drowned Malenexum as well once the static began to sing.

XXXXMalenexum was lifted upright and peeled apart, no pain befalling him but movement no longer capable of his volition. His eyes were held open by this... terrible nightmare as Radek approached him, his own form the only one visible. He looked down at Dzan's exsanguinating body and frowned. Bested by a nightwight, eh? tsk tsk. Looking back up at Malenexum's flayed body, Radek spoke without lips as his body bloated and swelled, splitting until his rips exposed themselves and extended into spindles to scoop up Dzan, his intestines rolling out only to snake and slither forward, wrapping their sticky sides about Dzan and his own disemboweled body and dragging them back.

XXXXMalenexum, you have accomplished what few can. Now, I must test your own lengths. Our meeting is not yet determined, but if you hear my sword again, pray it is not next round. Just as you have stolen his life, I will steal yours. There is much to be learned from you, and much for you to still learn about what you consider death and pain. Laugh at these words. I don't give a s**t. You will see me.

XXXXAs his speech progressed, the world bean to vibrate harder and harder, until it looked like an earthquake was going to peel the darkness apart and show what was waiting behind that horrible curtain--what Radek had in store for him--when Time handed down the scythe. Radek's lungs sprouted tubes and wormed them down Dzan's throat, and Radek began to breath, pumping the oxygen into the dying man's body. The ribs closed into a cage and his intestines completed their cocooning of the hiver. Radek pulled the sword from Malenexum's back, and the hallucination dissipated, the static gone with Radek and Dzan, the only evidence of their existence the multiple, linear cuts across the vampire's back, Dzan's pools of blood, and the visions forced upon Male.

BATTLE END!! VICTOR: MALENEXUM