Leviathan Stadium

Emperor's Game

The roar of the crowd. The shake of air. The heat.

Scenic [Leviathan Stadium] had seen worse days, restructured from the ground up to seat a (horrifying to some of Latent's denizens) estimated 84,000 spectator base. Cameras were flashing like flares, aircraft in the sky lit up with electric feed, men and women trying to get in their own slant in reports were going wild.

It was pure chaos.

However, a well dressed blonde fellow in his mid-30's began to waltz his way to the center of the stadium, an overhead spotlight and artificial dimming of the surroundings demanding attention. Microphone in hand and suit dressed to impress, the host screamed out~

"WELCOME, welcome welcome to the main event. Yes, you out there listening to this on the radio, you sitting at home witnessing this on the silver screen, and of course you folk sitting right before me, will now witness the seventh year of HEAVEN or HELL draw to a conclusion.." Through the crowd's screams and blood-thirsty yells, soldiers outright assaulting the more brazen in the chaos, this dapper host merely smiled. Like all the paid types did.

"However, before we meet the heavy hitters of the two teams slated to grab at the champion slot, let us take a moment to remember the fallen, whom's dreams and hopes were crushed to build our fighters today's throooones.." Doling out words without missing a beat, a massive television screen the size of a small building mechanically began to drop down at various points above the stadium, causing an outright uproar. There was about to be a show.

And then.. the screens lit up to great fanfare.

Team Strangers with Rock Candy Wrote:

"FIRST UP, Team Strangers with Rock Candy. The crew here consisted of Reicher Wallach [ 5567NoOkami ], Paylor Sakaki [ Sanctified by Dreams ], Tenrai Tsuchi [ BJW81_RawR ], and Arthas David Spelllllll-hand. [ Project DT88 ]"

On the display, one witnessed a still frame of a disqualified fighter, Gammu stabbing the stout paladin Spell-Hand with a pen.

"Management says I can't kill. I didn't want to kill, it's no phone. I wanted to maim; that's what they hired me for so many years ago. To maim and destroy and crush and break; but that's unsportsmanlike."

"You there, Forfeit now! Do so and I will help put out the fire on you."

"Sadly, no matter how stout Rock Candy was, they simply couldn't break out of the brutal preliminaries. A round of applause for the defeated!"

The screens began to distort, another team flashing across.

Team Second Banana Wrote:

"This team was rounded out by fighters Terrance Vanguard [ Trexasle ], Joseph Walsh [ Deathgra ], Ferris [ Zerogamer ], and Damion Hedleyyyyyy. [ Eternal Dirge ]

They had no real aspirations... exxxxxxxcept coming in here and mauling whoever they could get their hands on! Case in point, the bloodthirsty Waaaaalsh!!"

"Granted you have a point; societal expectations have changed drastically sense then, but you are not beyond recrimination." Serren gestured towards Ryugi's heroically positioned features, "your hair..your sword; you are desperately trying to force your way in to the hetero-normative ethnoculture of your peers while blatantly denying your apparent metrosexual inclinations."

This scene violently jarred to a still, showing [Serren Glacial]'s death sprinkled body being erupted through by a piercing laser beam fired from Walsh's index finger. It was a horrific display, color drained from the surroundings and Glacial looking none-too-well.

"Sadly, their name would be prophetiiiic. They played second banana to the rest of our tournament's roster, but give a big hand for their dedication!"

The crowd raged on, yet another team appearing.

Team Gaians With Attitude Wrote:

"And the final team destroyed in the preliminaries, rotting in purgatory but not having to taste the deadly hells deeper within our competition, iiiiit's Gaians with Attitude! Tzakery Elijah Bishop [ ImNoHero ], Elliot Pope [ We Came To Fight ], Jay S. Borne [ Darkest Silver ], William Hayes [ William Hayes ]."

"Attitude was brought, though the stalwart Gaians were simply not prepared for HoH's finest, and THEIR attitude.."

The scene drew to that of Elliot, attempting his finest struggle to not succumb to Dithakar, the monk.

And there, the scene stilled, said monk's left palm embedded into the side of Elliot's neck. Though Pope was standing... he was unconscious. "The brutal truth of Heaven or Hell, ladies and gentlemen. Strong men and strong women can be ripped apart right from the start.

But for those with a stronger force guiding them~? Well! They rise above the riff-raff, one might say.."

Lights began to pan all over the stadium, the music of trumpets erupting from the background. Prelims were passed. Emerging fighters were being harkened now.

Team Bloody Pandas Wrote:

"TEAM, BLOODY, PANDAS. Made up of a group with some grit to 'em, consisting offfff:

Ebris Dhifi! [ Cognitive Genome ]"

_____________________________

There, Moonblade laid. On top of Ebris' fist. The fair haired, nimble fighter's chest was caved in by one blow of Dhifi's might in this scene, and out in the crowd, quite a few hecklers screamed out "SERVES YOU ******** RIGHT MOONBLADE!" "DIE IN A FIRE, ELF." "Ran all fight, most boring pansy fighter I've ever seen, GLAD HE CAVED YOUR RIBS IN AMANDA MOONBLADE"

A particular man, wrapped in bandages draped over a red jacket with odd, snake-shaped bits of armor, casually stood up in the crowd and yelled out "Yeah! And he's a thief too. Don't trust that guy. I hear he .. sacrifices.. infants." Then sat himself down, not drawing too much attention thanks to the roar of the spectators around him.

"Dzan Streea!! [ Ebag the II ]"

_____________________________

"FRAGGIN' SLITH-EATER!" yelled out Dzan, swinging a table & chair at a certain cyborg detective, Ed. The still was quite flavorful, Dzan looking particularly angry mid-shout.

"Athan COLE. [ Designated Hero ]"

_____________________________

"HRNNNNNNNG!"

Even Athan couldn't keep himself from gasping out through clenched teeth in pain as the Ragnarok drove past the now shattered bracer and buried itself partially into Athan's left forearm, carving out a nice hunk of muscle and even chipping off a decent portion of Athan's ulna. Were it not for Athan's impossibly dense muscle tissue and bone, it would have been likely Athan would have been out another arm. As it was, Athan was now simply out half of a forearm and he was in a tremendous amount of pain. The energy lances, if fired on impact, would careen skyward at the same angle that Athan had intercepted the sword at.

"Fff-...Fff-....Fff-"

And there, Kazamaru & Cole locked in a deadly dance of swords.

"Last but not least! Zandra Ryyyyke~ [ Sins of an Angel ]"

_____________________________

"Hey hey, woah. Not only am I not into girls, but I definitely don't do the furry thing-"

Unfortunate, given the scene displayed a rather... incriminating display of camera work, capturing a moment where Ryke was on top of TWITCH, another female combatant, at just the wrong angle.

"Ohshi-"

"Oh, indeed. Fur fur fur." The host held back, with some professional conduct, a snicker. "Unfortunately, Bloody Pandas had a personal matter to attend to, and left the tournament in round one, enabling ODESSA a rise on up. But they remain a fanfare team thanks to their performance in the fights before, give it up for the bloody bears!"

Team Fighting Spirit Wrote:

Here, the crowd got awful vocal. It was almost unanimously an incoherent babble of bloodthirsty screams, though one word could be picked out quite easily: "Mana." "Mana." "MANA."

"First up, Shigekuni Genryusai! [ Shigekuni Genryusai ] A prodigal sword master, and a true philosopher~"

"This is your fault! I shall vanquish you SNOW DEMON!!!"

"What is this white stuff?"

"It's snow, Shige."

"And what the ******** is snow?"

"It's frozen rain dear..."

"Words to live by, though sadly, the snow did not mystify his opponent BLACKSMITH enough to escape with a team victory."

_____________________________

"Next next next NEXT,

Dithakar Yodsuwan!! [ Slash Zinrai ] A master level monk, he is a disciplined man who masters strength from within. Let me demonstrate some stills of his more calm moments in combat."

The arena darkened as the slideshow began. Tranquil music began to play.

The roaring crowd finally quieted down, even the most bloodthirsty downright horrified at what they were witnessing. It sounded impossible for a monk to be too brutal on what amounted to an undead, and yet... here they watched it, as the unnaturally stalwart beast of a being blew away the opposition after withstanding a near endless onslaught of attacks and maneuvers. "And the-CccccraCK!!" screamed out by Dithikar, this would no doubt become meme level quotation, if people could ignore what it was associated with. It was like a bad sitcom of Bruce Lee, Fist of the North Star, and an old Chuck Norris film if all three were merged together and directed by Michael Bay.

"..." Clapping his lips, the host tried to say something but gave up midway, shaking his head. "..Jesus- WELL LET'S... LOOK ONTO MIIIIffuuuuuNEEEEEEEEE~"

_____________________________

"Mifune Yojimbo~ [ MifuneKinshin ] Per his namesake, another sword wielding master on the team, though in quite a different fashion. Look at him. Sword after sword after sword.. seems downright wasteful."

The host seemed plainly disconnected to the MANY SWORD STYLE Mifune utilized, shaking his head at the rotating stills of said fighter bouncing off his weapons and grasping new ones. "But that's why I'm here and they're out there bleeding. Round of applause for Mifune, and now~"

The crowd roared again, angrily. They knew what was coming. And they liked not the looks of it.

_____________________________

"Mana the Hack Cat! [ Mana the Hack Cat ]" Rather than a fight still, it showed a large portrait of MANA, the catboy who was all the rage with HoH. And indeed, rage flew in the form of food and miscellaneous items being flung to the ground, the host having to dodge aluminum cans thrown at ridiculous speeds. Usually full.

"Ladies~ There's rumors.. Mana will return next year, source being his PR department.." The uproar grew more monstrous, guards beginning to grow physical at the sight of some flames coming along the trash.

"...we'll move on.

Team Mata Leon Wrote:

"First up, Cccccc. Foxxxxxxx~ [ C. Fox ] A tricky melee fighter who took his dwarf opponent and beat them around like an infant, stomping on them... I am told "Mario Style," causing poor Throven to bleed heinously.

Phew!"

_____________________________

"Next was.... was... question.. mark? I.." Frowning, he looked up at the screen.

"...I'm confused, BUT OUR NEXT FIGHTER! NAOTO SHOSUROOOOOO~ [ Naota Takun ] Was a shadowy ninja assailant, who sadly could not execute the bone warrior he assaulted with his variety of techniques. A shame."

_____________________________

"Last but not least, Gammu [ Nihilistic_Impact ] was replaced by a fierce and old fan-favorite, ittttt's SILVER [ Silver Alexander ], a high octane battler who came into the ring too late to influence the proceedings, but still left quite an impression. A round of applause, ladies and gentlemen~"

Team Ryugin, The Silver Draygans Wrote:

And our last recap~ For the remaining teams will be fighting today, giving you their stories all on their own. Ammiel Moonbladeeeeeee [ Ammiel Moonblade ], the renowned captain of Team Ryugi..." Scrunching up his face, the host grunted "seriously? ....Team Ryugin, The .. Silver Dray Gans? The Silver Draygans. Well anywho.

He was a very flighty fighter, consistently faring well against his foes and leaping high into the air to battle not just one but two different opponents in the same round!

While doing quite strong against the might of the vampire KB, he chose to test his mettle against Derren by... well in my view hugging him and, that's his choice! HAHWHAW, APPLAUSE FOR MOOONBLADEEEE"

Someone had a malicious streak for poor old Ammiel, as a screen of his fight with Ebris showed, fist-mid-gut.

_____________________________

"Ryugi Kazamaru [ Ryugi Kazamaru ] RYUGI KAZAMARU RYUUUGII KAZAAAAAMARRRUUUUUUUU~! The sun itself, some might say. Less hands on and more Ragnarok swingy, energy blast wingy, critics say his fight with Athan was far superior to his follow-up bout. But come on, who doesn't get a kick out of the old Kazamaru spirit?!"

_____________________________

"Stephen McCabe Lasanti [ Sutiiven ] deserves a special level of recognition. Plainly out-powered by his enemy EDWARD of DARE, it takes a true level of man to fight when he knows he cannot win, and a man yet to admit when he is defeated. Few have lost with such honor, let Stephen be praised." A series of claps confirmed this.

_____________________________

"And finally.. Aoi Kushinada~ [ Iyuesturu ] A.." The screen panned to a recorded segment, making the host jump in surprise and adjust his sunglasses. "...what...? Seems we have a surprise here folks.."

It was.... AOI vs MANA.

"Oi oi!" Aoi called out at his opponent. "You are Mana?"

"Its showtime p***y cat!"

Mana looked legitimately disturbed, beginning to cringe and walk away as the much more muscular opponent began to tear open his shirt and flex his chest menacingly at him.

"Oi oi!" "Oi oi!" "Oi oi!" "Oi oi!" Aoi menaced Mana, letting sweat drip down him as the Hackcat uncomfortably tried to walk away. "Oi oi!" "Yosh!" "Oi oi!"

Indeed, much of the audience had devolved into a confused murmur, sideways glares exchanged and no one quite sure how to feel about what they were witnessing -- fists suspended in the air but not quite sure what about for that matter. Were they.. glad Mana the Hackcat was losing? ...was.. Mana.. losing? What were they watching?

"I'M BURNINGGGG WITH THE VIGOR OF BATTLEEE!!!" "Yosh!"

"LET... us just focus on some highlights of the elims~" Muttered the sweating host, not sure how to smooth over this PR blunder.

Eliminator - Dare Wrote:

A screen of DARE fighter [KB] raising his fist triumphantly into a support column of the cathedral, confusing a monstrous flame-adorned opponent and leaving the team captain [Edward] at the brink of a mixture in confusion and agitation.

Eliminator - Rising Star Wrote:

A screen of... plainly fallen STAR fighters who had been to another realm entirely..

Eliminator - Success Wrote:

A highly..... jovial Fasumbra is seen, cackling away with his spiffy hat.

Eliminator - Odessa Wrote:

The people's champ even in the void, Tresondros and his fanfare chants coated the last eliminator screen.

And now... the crowd truly roared. It was time for the story of the future to be written; today, a new set of champions would arise.

HoH Blimp

The very same blimp that had been traveling all over Gaia, advertising the tournament, traditionally transformed into the semi-finals stage in tournaments of old. While this same tradition had been broken, the blimp was still an ever-present symbol of the Heaven or Hell tournament.

This wasn't anything new, however. The REAL object of interest was the blimp that could be seen entering the scene adjacent. While nondescript at first, gigantic decorated streamers would suddenly roll down both sides of the blimp as it neared the center of the stadium, revealing the true colors of the vehicle.

Piloting the vessel was none other than Captain Ammiel Moonblade, master magus extraordinaire and illustrious commander of the Silver Dragons. As expected from his guest appearances of old, music was pumped from the blimp's sound system almost soon as the streamers were deployed.

While he missed the rather... appealing recap given by the announcer, the present members of his team were left at the perfect vantage point to view the finals of the tournament.

Electronically.

From his incredibly cushy cabin in the sky.

Success Locker Rooms

Clenching her fists, Sokoya sought solace in the resistance that her martial wrappings provided. Their tightness a constant in her fights. Head hung low, the woman's ivory hair hid her fave from view while her blood red eyes burned holes into the ground. It was one of those rare moments for the girl where the reality of everything finally sunk in. The weight of her burden bearing down on her, threatening to crush the small girl under it's immense weight. Despite all the evidence to the contrary, there was more to this girl than the blood thirsty Bone Queen.

She was, in her heart, still a twenty something woman who didn't exactly know what to do with her life. But here was a girl who had to grow up with the sickening truth that she ate people. That she was a natural born killer. The madness that has taken root in Soak's head hadn't always been there. And perhaps if things had gone differently in her life, she might have been something different than what sat here today. Something better. Had she not met Trinity. Had she not gotten forced into Venom Signet, into the Dark Tournament. So many what ifs...they kept Sokoya up at night.

In the heat of the fight, the platinum haired berserker could truly forget herself. Live in the moment and let the enjoyment of it all wash everything away as if it were some kind of drug. But it always wore off. The remorse, the guilt, it chipped away at whatever twisted thing she had for a soul. Over time, the young girl simply adopted the personality. Figuring it was easier to just give in to her base urges than to keep fighting it. But it just made her so damn weary.

"Five minutes, Soak."

She didn't bother looking up, she recognized her team captain's voice. She waited for the door to click shut behind him before she sat back up properly and gave a long drawn out sigh. She'd been doing this for so damn long. Wasn't there something more for her? A family? Real friends? Her mind instantly locked onto Edward. The opposing team's captain, as fate would have it. Yes...that would have been nice. A faint smile found it's way creeping onto her lips, but vanished just as quickly. That ship had sailed.

The fighter would slowly rise to her feet, shifting her weight from side to side as she did so. Trying desperately to shake her limbs awake. As if an afterthought, Sokoya would turn and reach back down, snagging her kukri from off of the bench. It was time to clear her head. Get back into the game. Lose herself one more time.

Sokoya headed for the door.

The Arena

Slowly the platform that seperated their small waiting station from the main arena would slowly raise up, natural light spilling into the dim room and causing Soak to squint as they stepped forward. Here they were, Team Success. Ranked fairly low on the odds, people honestly hadn't expected the crew to get to the final compared to some of the other big name teams. She'd take a moment to glance down the line and check on her teammates. Strange faces. People she barely knew, and yet she was here with them as a single unit. It should feel strange, but Sokoya oddly felt...at home. This had been her life for over half a decade. It was stability. It was the norm.

And hey, the dwarf was staring at her tits.

Giving a sigh, Sokoya would cross her arms over her chest and return her attention to the other side of the arena. There, where her opponents no doubt waited. Where Edward no doubt was getting ready. The slender woman would bite at her lower lip in quiet contemplation.

Aboard the Demeter...

"Do not worry Tres, it is not over yet. You may have failed Sigil, but the safe bet was on me all along. Winning Heaven or Hell, standing over the remains of its former heroes... it has always been simply a matter of time. A matter of destiny. The strong ascend to the top of a monument, a mountain of corpses beneath their feet. The weak labor in decay, their bones the foundation of this great wonder."

Though ODESSA itself had not been victorious, the organization as a whole hung on the vampire's every word. KB was describing a basic truth that he held in the highest regard - the strong would rise to rule all. He was one of the strongest forces known to Latent, to Leviathan Stadium, to Gaia. What he may have lacked in raw power he made up for with the will to take command and the wisdom necessary to hold it.

"Today we will create an enduring legacy. The end will be by our hand, history written by we the victors. Fate bent to our will."

Soon after...

When the vampire appeared in the Stadium, it was to the sound of great applause. Formerly reviled by the people of Sigil and beyond, his meteoric return to the spotlight heralded the rebirth of his glory. He wore a serious expression as he walked towards Success, seemingly unarmed, suit crisp and ready for the final battle. He brought himself within range to begin the battle and then...

"Your journey ends here." He said simply, singling out the dwarf by pointing his outstretched hand at the shorter fighter. Though he had chosen his opponent, his thoughts clearly drifted to destroying the rest of the opposing team as well. Behind the reflective lenses of his glasses his eyes remained unseen, but the tightness of his jaw belied a barely contained savagery.

From his hand his dark power would manifest as it had throughout the tournament, Magus responding to his call in the form of three bolts spiraling around one another with entwined trails. Streaks of black that slowly faded as if the attack had simply eaten part of the world. They would shoot towards Throven with deadly intent, aimed to impact his chest area. The result would be a... mildly explosive impact.

Code: [Magus]

KB has mastered the ability to manifest his Negative Energy in short, ranged bursts. Using Godhand KB can direct a small blast towards a target with limited tracking ability. The ability can be fired in one of two ways, either x1 shot or x3. When fired x1 the cooldown is 2 posts. When fired x3 the cooldown is 5 posts. The maximum range of the attack is 30ft.

This attack applies the Negative Energy effect on-hit and x1 does as much damage as being punched. x3 does as much damage as being shoulder-checked.

Code: [Energy Drain]

A living creature physically struck by a vampire suffers energy drain, which is the effect of negative energy on the soul. Each time a living creature is hit by the vampire a part of its soul is immediately consumed, causing numbness, and atrophy in the enemy. This ability has no effect on undead or constructs. This effect can be blocked by armor. ( but not clothing ) Blocking an attack counts as being hit but has reduced effect ( 50% ). Effect lasts 1 post. Consecutive hits to the same area cause this effect to stack up to 3 times. ( 1 tired, 2 weakness, 3 paralyzation ) after which there is a 2 post cooldown before the person can be affected again.

No mercy this time.

[1/17]

Throven recognized the suited man. After continuously not studying up on any of his opponents before his fights, Throven finally decided to take his opposition seriously enough to watch the replays. Before Throven Battlefate stood a vampire, one whose name were just initials. KB?

Suddenly bursting forward from his position, the short and stout combatant moved toward KB's right side in an effort to flank. The slow paced Dwarve closed in a few feet before KB threw the first obstacle at him.

Three bolts of pure evil raced toward the Dwarven man. His mind cleared, entering a psychological state of flow. Instinct consumed him. He didn't recognize this energy use from the replays, but he'd engage it exactly like he would any other bit of magics. The were small enough to beat. They were trailing him despite his flanking, and he readied himself to counter. Just a few seconds, then...

"ARRRGH!" He threw his Waraxe into the right side of the blast, keeping his shield above his upper torso. The spell would discharge a few feet away from Throven, failing to cause energy drain but succeeding in causing his weapon to recoil. The string Throven had tied from the handle of the weapon to his wrist jerked on his arm, causing him to lurch to the side and made his wrist, arm, and shoulder sore.

Ignoring the pain, Throven reached to his belt and took off one of his three dual-sided throwing axe's while continuing to flank. He brought the lightweight weapon above his head and threw it down, directing the razor sharp weapon at KB's right shoulder, at the muscle below the clavicle. Throven hoped the force of the impact would disable his arm, if not just knocking him back a bit. At the very least it would be a distraction by keeping KB from lobbing any more spells.

He grabbed the heavy eleven pound weapon hanging off of his wrist, bringing it by his right shoulder once again. Throven seemed as if he were about to aim an attack at KB's torso, but he suddenly ducked down and smashed the center of his Waraxe's blade into KB's right knee. He used the full reach of his weapon to try and stay just out of KB's CQC range.

Mechanically, Throven's attack was relatively quick. His attack was a short arc, aimed horizontally from his right side. He twisted his hips and shoulders into the attack, and kept his grip loose. He was letting the force of his movement do all the work, resulting in a boneshattering attack. Even if the attack failed to do damage, it would still theoretically knock him back a bit upon contact.

But from the stands glance, all everyone saw was an angry Dwarve about to wreck an overconfident vampire.

[magics- 8/8]

show spoilerhide spoiler1: Dwarven Waraxe- A one-handed Steel Axe that Throven uses as his default weapon. It has a height of two and a half feet from the base of it's grip to the tip of the axehead. The axehead itself is one foot and a quarter from side to side. It is heavy at about eleven pounds, but Throven's Dwarven training allows him to wield it successfully with one hand. The grip of the weapon has a cotton wrap around it for a firmer grip. Attached to the bottom of the axe grip by a gorged hole (not seen in the picture below) is a string tied to Throven's wrist with four inches of slack, making disarms near impossible. The string is easily cut off: Throven could very well bite it off with his teeth with a good yank. The axe-blade is sharp enough cut through human flesh, and a direct hit with this could break a bone.

show spoilerhide spoiler3: Throwing Axes, 3 - Light axes weighing around one pound in are used either as projectiles or as secondary weapons. Each is one foot nine inches in the length. They are kept on Throven's belt.

show spoilerhide spoiler4: Armor- Throven wears a layer of riveted chain-mail around his torso, arms, and legs. His armor allows him a great amount of protection along with his full range of movement. Strapped underneath the mail covering his legs are steel splints, to ensure the legs aren't cut. Around his hands and up his forearm is a pair of gauntlets composed of hardened leather which have a stiffened range of motion, but are generally unobtrusive in combat. Throven's gauntlets have plates of steel on the back of the hands and around the forearms. A sturdy helmet of steel covers his skull, forehead, nose, cheeks and the rear of his neck. The armor weighs around 30 pounds.

~2/17~

The Damning Dash came after Throven's throw. There was little time, so he responded completely on muscle memory. His shield began to shine a bright blue as he twisted his body to the side, his right boot* sliding across the sand to the left, into KB's legs-

-SHOOOOP- "AUUUUGH"

Before he had completely dropped, KB smashed into Throven with the lower left side of his body. The force of the attack went through the shield and to the Dwarve's shoulder, knocking him hard into the ground. But Throven's slide meant that KB would likely trip over his thigh and send him forward into the ground, the momentum of his own attack ensuring this would hurt.

And right as the shield made contact, there would be a distinct sound like shattering glass, the magical energy shooting off the ox-hide for visual effect. A flaming sphere burst fourth from the item, giving KB's torso a nice toasting, as well as lighting the shield aflame.

Throven grunted out while taking the hit to avoid losing his breath. He had only a brief amount of time to mentally register the pain in his shoulder, as well as the subsequent back pain of his fall. His shoulder was moderately bruised and his back hurt like a ********. His thigh also had a small bruise. The Dwarve also noticed his thigh and shoulder had sensation of numbing tiredness in them.

Laying on the ground with a portion of his soul consumed, Throven Battlefate felt a brief moment of despair.

"...RAAAAAAAHH!" Letting himself be consumed by rage to push aside what he felt, the Dwarve rose to his feet. He held his inflamed shield and his Waraxe above his head in a loose boxing stance, readying himself for the next attack.

There was strain in Throven's gaze. He was being kept on his toes. But more importantly, this battle reminded him of some of the worse times at war. Why?

[magics- 7/8]

[cooldown - 1 post]

show spoilerhide spoilerTo cast a spell, Throven must concentrate the spell he intends to use and focus into whatever he intends to hit with (axe, shield, fist, etc), referred to as a "conduit". The conduit will then glow with a very noticeable blue light. Throven will then physically hit an object with the conduit, the spell channeling through the conduit in order to perform whatever effect the spell entails. The physical strike must an offensive attack: p***y tapping will yield no results. By extension, he can only use close range spells. He is also able to channel spell's through his throwing axes to hit long-distance, but the spell's power halves, and yet still counts as a full spell. Casting a buff spell on another person requires Throven to physically strike them, just like any other spell he does.

Throven has a maximum of spell-count of 8 spells per day. It is neccesary for him to wait a brief period of time before casting again, which out of character amounts to a full turn. On top of that, there is a 20% chance with every casting that his spell will fail. A percentile roll will be rolled with the post. Normally the Duskblade training negates the possibility of spellfailure, but Throven really did suck. Spellfailure caused the conduit to buff with a thin purple fume, and counts as a combo breaker. Whenever casting a spell, a “what-if” scenerio will be written which describes what would happen to the fight if the spell fails.

show spoilerhide spoiler*Pyroburst- A fiery sphere of energy bursts forward from the conduit, instantly dissipating after moving one foot. Anything collaterally set on fire remains aflame until put out. Throven is incapable of controlling the direction of the spell, it always goes forward. CAUTION: spell burns.

((*Slight edit to boots with the permission of Hael, before the match began. They are now steel toed.))

((Edited the post as requested by KB. My previous post had me pyrobursting with my axe, succeeding in the spellfail. Since I already know what the roll is I'm going to exclude the "what if" scenario to make things simpler.))

~3/17~

"Let us hope our stout companion is not overmatched. As for you, Sokoya, good luck with your battle. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have an opponent to humble."

With that Fasumbra strode away from their starting position, some confidence being restored to his psyche by his quiet prayer to his former master. Well, that was not the sole reason for his slight uplifting; his theatrical boasting before his allies was beginning to make him feel braver, perhaps even heroic. That too had been part of his training, as learning what people feared the most meant also learning what gave them courage, the better to take it away from them. His theatrics had lead his division through battle before, filling them with zeal with his very presence.

As he walked outward across the vast arena floor toward his opponent, Fasumbra took note of his surroundings. The floor was covered with a slight layer of sand for traction, helping the intentionally softened soles of his boots grip quite solidly to its surface. That meant at least he wouldn't be falling down anytime soon. Across from him, coming forwards at a jogging pace, was his opponent. Fas had excellent eyesight so he could see the man quite clearly, but... there was more to him than met the eye. At the moment he didn't appear to have any weapons, so that at least was good to know.

Speaking of which, the walls around the arena had slid back in a manner similar to their team platforms, revealing an arsenal of weaponry the likes of which even Fasumbra had never seen. An absurd variety of conventional as well as completely off-the-wall tools of war were on display in all their glory. Battle axes sat alongside DIAMOND KATANAS (made of 100% real diamonds), rapiers hung with massive inflatable hot dogs, and even-

Barely suppressing a gasp of surprise, the half-elf stopped cold. With wonder he stared at the wall, scarcely believing his eyes. Fasumbra gave a sidelong glance at Edward to reckon his position before taking off at a dead sprint for the wall. Because he was still close to the starting platform it didn't take him very long at all to reach his intended prize. With a sound of satisfaction, he pulled from the wall a Dual-Headed Spear. He held it out before him one armed, admiring its craftsmanship; it wasn't flawless by any means, but it was certainly within military specifications of durability and weight. The thick Partisan-style heads were clearly quite heavy, designed as much for chopping and slashing as piercing, and stout ebony wood of some sort made up the center haft. Overall Fasumbra estimated it was five feet long, with a foot on each end making up the stout heads.

His amazement was not without reason; the weapon in his hand was the spitting image of his former signature weapon known as the Deathseeker Lance. Of course its craftsmanship was not flawless and magical as that weapon's was, but still its form was the same. Whatever twist of fate brought this on, it brought a grin to Fasumbra's tired face, lighting him from within with excitement. With a practiced flourish he spun the weapon in a circle before him, creating a loud whoosh as the razor-sharp blades sliced the air.

So, newly acquired weapon in hand, Fasumbra turned sharply to face Edward once again, beginning his own jogging run across the arena. As he went forward he shouted to the cyborg, hoping he could hear his words over the roaring crowd.

"You'll forgive me for being armed, but I'm afraid I have no room for mercy nor honor here!"

[Post 2 of 17]

Edward studied Fasumbra closely, watching and waiting for the half-elf to pull the inevitable fast one, to charge straight for him, or to employ a magical spell of sorts. Despite those dangers, the cyberpunk continued to jog towards his opponent, confident that he could counteract (or at least avoid) anything that Fasumbra had in mind. With the odd exception of the Hellcat, Ed had feared no0ne of his opponents, and Success' captain was no different in that regard. The detective would approach the man as he did all of his adversaries— cautiously and at a steady pace.

Except Fasumbra would not attack, and to Edward's utter surprise... ran away instead. Towards the weapons.

It wasn't what Edward had been expecting. Not from the madman he had seen in the tournament replays. A full-frontal charge accompanied by a lot of yelling, or a bolt of magical energy (with the same yelling) would have made sense. But to take the slimy tactical advantage by snatching up the first weapon. Fasumbra was using a new playbook.

With a sigh as the half-elf bolted, the detective gave chase; the hydraulics in his legs hissing loudly with every long stride as Edward accelerated to his average speed of twenty miles an hour within moments. Then he pushed himself and his cybernetics harder. He didn't want or need to beat Fasumbra to the weapons stash. He wasn't sure he could either way, considering his opponent's head start. But Edward wanted to be nearby when the b*****d reached his prize. Where the weapons were within Edward's extended grasp, just as they were within the half-elf's.

Coming to a halt about ten feet away from Fasumbra, the cyberpunk scrutinized the double-headed spear closely, looking for anything out of the ordinary but finding nothing except that double-headed spears were pretty out of the ordinary. Edward looked past his opponent, giving the stash a quick glance or two before turning his attention back on Fas.

"Take every advantage you can," The cyborg replied with a wolfish grin, his hands off to the sides as if offering the half-elf a quick attack to the torso. "Against me, you'll need them."

Edward walked towards his opponent, keeping his arms up defensively. He watched Fas' movements as he approached, awaiting for the motion that would telegraph the inevitable spear attack. He would never throw an attack of his own— at least for now. Instead, the cyberpunk would simply walk in Fasumbra's direction, aiming to goad an attack out of the half-elf or force him to surrender his range advantage if he didn't strike.

2/17

The Dwarve rose up to see his opponent landing from his somersault. He wasted no time in sprinting over to KB. In the brief time of his charge he had a moment to think. Why had he just felt that? Was it because he didn't want to be here?

No, he thought. This crowd, this shouting. It all resonated with Throven, deep into his unconscious. It wasn't his opponent either, he was just a low skilled novice needing to rely on magics. He hated those.

But there was no more time to think. Feeling the rush of the crowd, Throven discarded the clutter in his mind. With his last few steps he closed the gap, bringing the force of his Waraxe diagonally down onto the back of KB's neck, right to left. His technique was as sound as ever, his shoulders and hips twisting into the attack. He aimed to knock the guy forwards from the force of the attack, if not just break his spinal cord. Vampire's are sturdy guys, right?

It would take a lot more then a bruised shoulder to take down a Dwarve. The battle had just began, after all.

[magics- 7/8]

[cooldown- done]

~4/17~

Throven was shocked for a second as the shrapnel burst out. The majority of it went into his upraised shield, the 3' item completely covered in the little stones. A bit went into his right arm, most of that deflected away by chainmail, although there were a few cuts. His lower torso took most of the hit, many small trickles of blood beginning to make their way through the rivets his armor. His legs had some even smaller cuts, due to the strips of steel lining his legs giving him that extra protection. Overall, very minor damage. The worst part was the shield: aflame and structurally weaker.

But it was only the surprise of the explosion which momentarily caused Throven pause. This was p*y st. Throven never bothered pressing against KB's arm, instead sliding across it and aiming the lower end of the axehead into KB's side, striking into his open armpit. He burst forward with his legs, sending as much power into the strike as he had.

"Eno-" -POW-

Successful contact would likely rip through the muscle of his arm, rendering it useless.

[magics- 7/8]

show spoilerhide spoilerAs a people that make homes for themselves by gorging out the stone of mountains, Dwarves are extremely sturdy. The average Dwarve can take what a normal Man would consider large sums of pain with only moderate difficulty. Additionally, a Dwarve will often be capable of performing difficult activities such as running or digging for long periods of time without feeling exhaustion. Tales have been told of Dwarves who could run on marathons for days without tire. Although Throven isn't that exceptional of a Dwarve, do not expect to see him tired out in a battle: it would take up to a half hour of dead running just to tire him, and a little over an hour for him to tire out completely.

((You really need to add more detail, like which arm you blocked with. You haven't even qualified the strength of your character, I don't know this stuff automatically man.))

~5/17~

Hm.

KB had used his closest arm to block the strike, which was his right since Throven came in from behind attacking on that side. The axe stuck in his flesh was redirected by the dwarf into a downwards strike. Responding by stepping back with his right foot, his left went forwards and he turned his body into a full torque punch using his left hand. The punch was aimed directly at the center of the shield, which was kind of strange.

Blood sloughed free from the vampire's arm and side where the axe had slashed open the skin. It was a dark ichor that seemed to bleed sluggishly. If the attacks were causing any pain it wasn't visible on the face, instead KB wore a sincerely annoyed expression.

Code: [Executioner Strike]

KB focuses a large amount of Negative Energy into a single melee attack allowing the Energy Drain effect to bypass armor. Overall attack damage is unchanged. Cooldown: 2 posts.

Code: [Undead]

KB does not eat, drink, sleep, or breathe. He only has a muted tactile sense of the world and thus does not appreciate pain. As an undead being his only vital organ is his heart - the others are rotten and vestigal. His body is powered by Negative Energy and does not rely on the typical living means of locomotion. His body can still suffer the effects of structural damage.

Ex: He does not need intact tendons to move his arm, but if the arm bone is broken it will inhibit his ability to use the limb.

Additionally, his flesh is more resilient to damage than that of a normal living person. His skin is the equivalent of treated leather armor. His bones are similarly more durable, more like steel than bone.

Note: Silver weapons and magic attacks bypass these defensive properties, treating his flesh like regular meat. ( Being Undead also confers a 25% resistance to Electricity, Cold, and Poison )

Code: [Excessive Strength]

As a vampire, KB's primary attribute is sheer strength. He is many times stronger than a human being, able to lift and move ( slowly ) with up to 1000lbs in his hands. In spite of his amazing strength, his power is proportionate to his humanoid form, so there are limits to what he can do. ( He couldn't lift 1000lbs at arms length and hold it there, for example ). This physical power lends itself to his strikes as well, making him able to dent conventional metal armor with direct hits, or punch through unprotected flesh completely.

[5/17]

After punching through the shield to deliver the negative energy payload contained within his fist, KB shook his hand free of the thing. Knowing that he had to fortify the ground he'd taken the nude vampire decided to reinforce his right arm. Godhand flashed darkly, starkly inverting the appearance of the arena, before taking reappearing in proper form. The black steel gauntlet that covered his arm from fingertip to elbow would help his injured limb intact.

When the waraxe came up at KB's face, he leaned back deftly. The weapon would nick him, cleaving a shallow cut across up his brow that caused him to fall back a step. It was better than losing an eye all things considered. Since the axe was busy having gone up in the air to hit the facial area, KB pushed forwards snapping his head back down and throwing his right arm up in a guard perpendicular to the haft of the axe. The vampire would throw all his body weight into advancing against the Dwarf, pinning the plates of Godhand against the axe. His left hand would help brace the move by gripping near his right wrist.

Code: [Godhand]

KB's right-hand glove, Godhand, has the ability to transform into a spiked steel gauntlet at will. The gauntlet features fully articulated fingers, spiked knuckles ( 1" spikes ) and extends the length of his forearm to cover the elbow joint. The elbow joint features a curved blade protrusion that is 5" long. In addition to serving as a weapon and armor, Godhand is KB's only way of using the Magus ability.

Summary

• deep cut to right arm

• shallow cut to right side

• shallow cut to left brow

• right hand armored

• NUDITY!

[6/17]

[edit for judge ruling]

You'll have to forgive Sokoya for her lack of manners. She's not quite right in the head, you see. Despite the lack of greeting, surely Wigi could pick on the excited look on the girl's face. Her blood red eyes seemed positively charged, and the broad smile on her face made it seem like she'd just seen a long lost friend. Or a steak dinner. Finally with her back to the cache of weapons, the porcelain skinned girl would give pause.

"Mmm." She'd start, glancing up at the bandaged Changeling. She recalled all too well the flag he'd made for their team. The 'bandana' that he'd worn. It was certainly an odd obsession, but she couldn't blame him. Both were a few screws loose, and Soak had no doubt that the Hedge was a damning thing. They'd driven through it once, back in the day. Edward and Wigi had made Sokoya sit in the back of the van to shelter her from the wrongness outside. A touching gesture. "Thank you. I do take care of my toosh."

His comments about wearing a pair didn't seem to particularly bother Sokoya. It'd never been something she was overly troubled with, and there were grander ideas on her mind. For example, just how she might be able to carve up her dear old friend here. She spared a glance back to the large wall o' weapons. Soak wasn't trained in any, but her instincts were pretty good. Just needed something that she could use comfortably. Still facing the large man, she'd take a step back and snag a dadao from the rack. Wide blade, heavy hitting. Seemed legit.

The woman would stuff her kukri into her belt for future use and wrap both hands around her new blade, bringing the handle to her crotch and wagging the blade at her opponent. Grinning lewdly at the gesture, she'd snap back into a ready stance as Wigi began his charge. Soak gritted her teeth and stood her ground, fully expecting that the lumbering ogre would plow her. Plow her over, rather. Instead, he came to a sliding halt near the edge of his reach and swung that bat of his one handed.

Frowning a bit, Soak would lean back a bit to let to go grazing by before trying to step in on his afterswing, leading with her left foot.. She wasn't exactly comfortable with this whole sword play thing, but she was certainly glad that she had a friend to experiment with. First trial of the day would entail

an overhead diagonal chop, going from her upper left down to her lower right. She intended to slice open his bandages for him! And....maybe also his chest.

That's the spirit! Sokoya didn't disappoint, lending herself to some kind of Chinese-looking monstrosity of a weapon. He'd seen them before in the pits, but never really took much to the oriental weapons so many gaians seemed so found of... less it was taken up as insult to their honor, pride, or whatever fung shui crap they were peddling. He never took the subject of his panty raids as the kind to slap that sort of weapon on so eagerly, but she did seem to just blindly pick something up. All the same it was something sharp, and as soon as he got wide with his swing she'd come wrenching in with her counter.

This he expected, however, given that she took the time to sling that big sucker up for a horizontal strike. He'd shift his left leg forward and outward a bit as his bat would have finished its swing, anchoring it down to create a pivot point for his weight to balance on. From here he went with the motion of his bat, spinning clockwise while leaning backwards to create a slope for the dadao to slide across the front of his brigandine. He'd also reach forward with his left during his pivot, pushing the side of the blade as it came down to compensate for the angle to keep it clear of hitting his body directly, allowing his armor to protect him from harm.

Now any normal, run of the mill person would be flipping after someone just outright slashed a blade at them, thinking twice about passing on that friendship bracelet after the match was done, but Weej and Soak weren't normal peeps. He took the aggression with open arms, even felt a bit of joy ping across his body as his old friend tried to slice him in half. She was confident enough in his abilities to let loose, a sign of respect for any fighter worth his mettle on the battlefield. He inwardly praised the woman for her efforts, a wide grin spreading across his lips to let her know that the message was taken in kind and even deeply appreciated. After a few of these rounds he was starting to think that nobody had the right stuff for real fighting anymore, that all there was left in the world was a bunch of half-hearted pussies worth less than a morning squat.

Shaking off the nostalgia rather quickly, the changeling would carry on with his work. He'd let go of the bat, allowing it to fly off wildly at an angle behind him to free his hand up. With that done he'd lunge forward with his right leg, knocking into the side/back of the dadao as he thrust his open palm forward toward the center of Sokoya's chest with enough force to send her flying back into the nearby weapon rack. Overall his reaction wouldn't do much damage, to his dismay, but it was just a hard shove after all. However it would do well enough to knock the boney broad on her a** if it landed.

[2/17]

The spearhead wouldn’t have gone past Edward’s head, though Fasumbra had hoped perhaps he would expect that. As stated the circular motion had been a feint, his movements deliberate and obvious so that, perhaps, Edward would be too trusting of his eyes and ready himself for a horizontal slash when in reality Fasumbra was intending to stab at him.

Regardless, Edward managed to defend himself without revealing an opening, backpedaling away from Fasumbra before attempting to get behind him as he turned. Fasumbra was not an idiot, so when Edward moved it became entirely unnecessary to continue with his original plan. Thanks to the traction of the sandy floor, along with his boots, stopping his rotation was almost effortless, and he gracefully came to a rest facing Edward.

“You’re smarter than most, it would seem. I expected you to attempt to close distance, but you’re intelligent enough to stay out of my range. Still, a bit boring don’t you think?”

Fasumbra rested one of the lance-heads on the ground before him, holding it one handed with his left hand a few inches short of the haft’s center. Edward intended to continue circling him, so Fasumbra somewhat boredly followed his movements as he did so, turning his body to always face the cyborg in his orbit. In the midst of Fas speaking, Edward lifted one of his arms and with a mechanical whir barely audible above the crowd noise created a shield out of it.

‘Ah, I see. Robotic prosthetics, interesting.’

That explained the odd sensation Fasumbra’s Mana Sense reported back to him. The way Edward felt living and yet… not living. The Mana Sense painted a muddled portrait of the cyborg, since parts of his body were not living flesh while others were. Of course, Fasumbra couldn’t quite tell which parts of him were cybernetic and which weren’t, so he would have to do some experimenting. Though it was now quit obvious that one of Edward’s arms was a replacement. In the midst of Fasumbra’s observations, Edward reached back with his other arm before it exploded outward, stretching towards the far wall. Another question answered, then: Both arms were prosthetics.

Fasumbra’s face was still a stoic mask tinted ever so slightly with boredom, a false expression to hide his interest and excitement. While it would have been nice to wait around to see what toy Edward yanked from the wall, Fasumbra wasn’t about to let this momentary advantage go to waste. Whatever Robocop tricks Edward was able to pull, he was currently short one arm as he reached for a weapon on the wall. All he had at the moment was his footwork and a shield-arm, which meant the likelihood of a strong counterattack was going to be low for the few seconds the hook took to reach the wall and return.

Fas took two steps diagonally to his left with the intention of cutting off Edward’s path, raising his lance with both hands once again before slashing it downwards at the cyborg. The half-elf wasn’t expecting to do much damage with the attack, and in fact doubted that Edward would even block it with his shielded arm. Still, it was better than standing around and letting the man weave his battle plan together unhindered. So, entirely ready for his attack to be defended (or evaded, as he thought more probable), Fasumbra swung his weapon. It appeared this would be a battle of wits and gambits, rather than a savage brawl.

The first one to run out of ideas would be the one to lose.

[Post 4 of 17]

Super OOC Wrote:

((Just to get a few things straight, so there isn't any confusion:

1. Its not a mystery what's prosthetic and what isn't, unless of course it's covered up by clothing. Edward is pretty much wearing a t-shirt, so his left arm is pretty obvious as it's literally made out of metal with chrome-plating. His right arm is a gauntlet that looks a lot like his other arm, but the gauntlet ends below the elbow. So, since he's wearing a t-shirt, you can spot where gauntlet ends arm skin begins somewhat.

2. His right arm doesn't stretch out. It fires a grapple hook, like with a high-tensile wire and heavy-duty clamp at the end.

Anyways, let's get back to some fighting.))

Edward remained silent, not bothering to speak over the roars of the crowd. Not because he couldn't or didn't want to strain himself, but rather because he simply didn't want to waste time on silly banter. Instead, the cyberpunk continued to move, continued to scrutinize the environment, and continued to retrieve the Aspis which wasn't going to take much longer in arriving. Fasumbra had plans of his own, however, as he moved to intervene in the cyborg's orbit.

Quickly, the detective turned his body to face his opponent, grinning fiercely as he noted the stadium lights and the mass of spectators at the half-elf's back and raised his shield-arm defensively. A majority of fighters would have been content and overjoyed with simply blocking Fasumbra's blow, and in certain dire contingencies Edward would count himself amongst them. But this wasn't a dire circumstance, and Edward had a master plan of his own. At the very last moment, before the half-elf's weapon and the cyberpunk's shield collided, the cyberpunk angled his built-in shield upwards.

The sudden movement not only stopped Fas' attack in its tracks but also achieved a secondary purpose. The powerful stadium lights from on high bounced off the reflective (chrome-plated) surface of the shield, scintillating a sudden, bright flash of light into Fasumbra's face and eyes. The light would never harm the half-elf in any permanent fashion; nevertheless, it would still manage to easily blind the man temporarily.

Within the time-frame of Fasumbra's inability to see, and difficulty hearing his opponent's movements— considering the large, monumental crowd which drowned nearly everything out with their constant roaring. Edward would choose to strike.

The half-elf had been correct. Edward was short one arm, and certainly only had his shield-arm and footwork at his disposal. Sadly, the half-elf had erred greatly in his belief that a strong counterattack was unlikely. A terrible mistake indeed. Hardly even a second after flashing the lights into Fas' eyes, a cone of flames erupted from the open mouth of the shield's skull insignia. With a diameter of two feet and a range of four, the flames would lash out at an ample amount of Fasumbra, which included parts of his face, neck, and torso (including his clothes). The fire would burn intensely if it connected with flesh or fabric, but would never burn hot enough to reach the nerves or bones of the half-elf. It was exactly the way Edward liked his burns. Superficially deep but incredibly painful.

Meanwhile, the Aspis would finally reach the cyborg, pulling the grapple hook back into the gauntlet whilst pulling the large shield into his right arm.

Burning Arm: 1/2

4/17

((Edited to add the counter for one of the flamethrower's effects.))

Super OOC Response to Super OOC Wrote:

1. I figured some of his cybernetics were quite obvious but I didn’t want to assume so I just waited for you to clarify in your post, which you did. No problem.

2. I know it’s a grappling hook, I just didn’t describe it in detail since you already had. It would be redundant.

EDIT: Just added a picture for flavor.

‘Nothing to say, huh? Very well, let us cast aside the pleasantries.’

Fasumbra wasn’t too surprised by his opponent’s silent nature. There were a number of past opponents he could recall who preferred their battles cold and calculated, and Edward seemed to be yet another one of them. The silence only meant Fasumbra would have to speak with deeds rather than words, something he was more than capable of doing. When the half-elf so rudely cut off Edward’s running path, Fasumbra saw the arm-turned-shield rise to block his attack. His mind immediately went on auto-pilot, training guiding his series of actions more than any sentient art. One thought, however, did come to the forefront.

‘You are open.’

One end of the lance crashed into Edward’s arm with significant force a little below the spearhead, producing a loud THWACK but otherwise leaving the haft stable. Some spectators winced regardless of who they were rooting for, wondering if Edward could feel that arm or not. Steel shield or no, it hadn’t been a half-assed strike. At the same instant as Fasumbra’s overhead blow struck home his eyes were met with a sudden flash of light. Edward probably expected the half-elf to flinch and open himself up for some sort of counter, but he would not. Certainly, his eyes would squint shut to block the light, but that split second of sustained contact between arm and lance told Fas all he needed to know; Edward was still holding his arm in place, and the lack of jostling informed him that Edward was not stepping anywhere else after the attack connected. Which meant his training flowed to the next motion, uninterrupted. Though it was hardly a second before Edward unleashed his flamethrower, that left plenty of time for Fas’ next strike to be thrown.

With a soldier’s deadly grace Fasumbra rotated the lance towards him, the forward head that struck Edward’s arm not a moment ago being sent to Fasumbra’s left side while simultaneously the rear head came upward from Fas’ right in a violent diagonal slash across Edward’s body, the half-elf turning his shoulders and hips into the blow to give it the burst of power it required. Edward raising his shield-arm and even holding it in place left his torso open to the blow, which was easily within range to slice deeply into the cyborg’s abs and right pectoral. The attack had an added benefit Fasumbra hadn’t foreseen however; Edward aiming his gout of flame at Fasumbra’s exposed head would require him to keep it elevated to reach the peak of his 6’7” frame if he wanted to deal the most damage. With that being the only arm present at the time of Fasumbra’s secondary strike (the other likely nearing its owner with shield in hook), could he sacrifice his own attack to mitigate the damage?

Speaking of which, Edward was shooting a ******** flamethrower at Fas’ face. In the midst of his upwards slice he reopened his eyes, since the natural motion of his head had moved him from the sweet spot Edward found with the lights and stopped turning his eyelids bright red. His reward was a sudden burst of intense heat washing across him. In the world of sentient beings there is very rarely one who does not react instinctively to a massive spike in temperature, and Fasumbra Langardo was not an exception. Though his armored arms and hands would partially block the blast as they rose with the motion of the lance, that didn’t mean a damn thing to his brain; all it knew was there was suddenly significantly more fire coming towards him than he typically approved of, and it might be a good idea to get away from it. Thankfully military training also dealt with situations involving panic, so even in this case there was a dedicated response.

Fas turned naturally (though more hurriedly than usual) with the motion of the lance, letting its upward arc come entirely around as he promptly turned his back on Edward and took several fast steps forward, ducking his head somewhat as he moved away from the flames and their source. This protected Fasumbra quite a bit more than his pimped-out opponent probably realized. The Warcloak hanging from his thick shoulders was not merely woven from the same high-durability blend as the Shigtoh; it was also mildly enchanted, able to repel weaker energy-based attacks entirely. Edward’s flamethrower was certainly not weak, but the combination of the sturdy fibers and enchantment made any flames that attempted to burn on the cloak’s surface do pitiful damage, leaving naught but insignificant scorches where they landed.

His golden hair on the other hand was flammable. As he swiftly advanced in the other direction he freed one hand from the lance’s haft, grabbing a fistful of his hair and pulling along its length several times, which would remove any flames from it quite easily thanks to the ignited bits being much more fragile than the rest. A quick self-check would document what wounds he had taken: a smattering of superficial but painful wounds on his face and neck from the initial blast (thankfully interrupted by his rising arms), along with no small amount of burned hair and scorch-marks on his Shigtoh. There was a sudden surge of booing in the crowd, largely from the female populous who found Edward’s destruction of Fasumbra’s shimmering locks an outrage.

Overall Fas thought it went rather well for their first trade. Though inwardly his vanity cursed the cybernetic firebug for burning up his hair, his military mind saw the benefits the exchange of blows brought; significant damage to major muscle groups in the torso in response to the infliction of superficial damage with fire. Things were looking up.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to play with fire? Were you raised in a barn? Mongrel!” Fasumbra shouted as he turned again to face Edward, gesturing at him with the lance while making a point to coat his voice with the lilt of his home-world’s aristocracy, the better to cast the cyborg as an uncouth savage. As he gestured the weapon at Edward he noticed a stray flame on the wooden surface of its haft, and swiftly blew it out.

[Post 5 of 17]

Quote:** Wrote:

Warcloak of the Seraphim

Obviously, a cloak. The fabric it is made of is a tight weave of high-durability fibers, including Spider-Silk and Letgranian Cotton. Thanks to the tight weave and sturdiness of the fabric, it is capable of helping defend Fas from the edges of a slashing/chopping weapon or attack. A straight thrust, however, can pass through the Warcloak with no problem. Beyond its normal defensive capabilities, the Warcloak is enchanted, allowing it to defend against minor energy-based damage such as small fireballs and lasers.

The Warcloak is secured around Fas’ shoulders by a gold-colored, metallic chain that connects at the top of the Warcloak, generally across Fas’ collarbone. This catch is designed so that a hard pull will disconnect it, allowing Fas to swiftly discard the Warcloak as well as preventing an opponent from trying to strangle him with it. It is also slightly weighted down on the bottom hem, to allow for better control over its movements.

The cloak is not capable of stopping blows on its own. Rather, its heavy weight and sturdy materials make it usable as a more than capable deflection instrument. Even though an opponent may be able to cut through it, it can be flicked or swirled to disturb their strike and thus make it miss its intended target.

Colored a deep red, like the inner heart of a rose, with gold trim around the hems, the Warcloak was a gift from his long-dead Master upon the conquest of the planet Letgran. Fas considers it an extension of her will, protecting him even from beyond the gates of Death.

S.H.G.T.O. (Seraphim Honor Guard Terror Operations) Uniform

Referred to simply as a Shigtoh, this battle-suit has been used by Fasumbra since his military days. Unlike the heavily armored battle-suits of Defensive Operations, or the skin-tight bodysuits of Special Operations, the Shigtoh is personally crafted for each individual in the Terror Operations division, in order to make them more individual in the clash of battle.

Fas’ personal Shigtoh provides very little protection in terms of countering cuts or stabs, as Fasumbra’s maddened behavior during battle tended to make it pointless to burden him with heavier armor. However, the suit is perfect for absorbing blunt strikes. This is due to the sturdy Kevlar fibers that cover the outside layers of the suit, as well as the Letgranian Cotton that pads the layer against Fas’ body inside the suit. While heavy blows will still cause damage, their effectiveness is reduced, and orthodox striking will tend to be a waste of time. Although not entirely negated, the effort and energy expended to strike him just to cause minimal damage makes trying to go fist-to-fist with him a bad strategic move.

The suit is, as stated, a body suit. It covers his entire body up to the wrists and ankles, where the Godhand gauntlets and a pair of steel-toed combat boots take over, respectively. The Suit is also slightly loose, so it barely restricts his flexibility and also takes some of the snap out of blows that hit home.

Once, his Shigtoh was colored snow white, to better show the blood Fas became covered in during battle. But, after Fasumbra’s master was murdered, he had it colored a deep red, to represent both his failure to protect her and that her shed blood rested solely upon him.

Rounin Kuro Wrote:

Killing spectators? Disqualification!

PFWEEEEEEEWSH!

The dwarf shot out a ******** rainbow. That was kind of homo. A spray of multicolored lights struck the vampire in the face and such. Like a prism it reflected off his skin everywhere. He practically sparkled.

What the ********>

Yeah. It was time for---

WHAO GUT SHOT WHOA WHAT THE ****** MAN WHAT THE ******. KB was hit in the stomach by one of those puny throwing axes. Since KB had diamond leather armor hard abs the axe would only bite a little bit. It fell away and clattered in the sandy stone arena. It was better than losing his guts everywhere, not that he really need a tummy.

Roundhouse!

Blinded, yeah, KB was. Kinda. Details were blurry, but sources of light remained fairly constant. Enough that attacking the Dwarf wouldn't be a shot in the dark. KB took the hit to the stomach like a champ, the battleaxe scraping off Godhand in a shower of sparks as KB transitioned into a roundhouse. His right foot aimed to smash into the Dwarf's side and send him flying, while the throwing axe bounced off his pale torso.

Code:

[Lifesense]

In addition to conventional light sources KB's surroundings are illuminated by the brightness created by living creatures. An average sized person can light up a 5-ft radius, revealing themselves and the things around them. This ability allows KB to detect living creatures even through walls.

[7/17]

Throven saw the roundhouse kick coming and ducked down while throwing his weapon, paying no mind to KB's obscene genitalia flapping around by his extended leg. He simultaneously shoved his sharpened end of his Waraxe toward KB's left knee.

-BAM-

The kick dented the side of Throven's helmet. His head ached and he began to hear ringing, but he would definitely not go flying. The Dwarve's low center of gravity and the arena's traction meant he had excellent balance, possibly the best in HoH this year. Throven was instead rocked to the right, still focused despite being set off balance. He also experienced a strange numbness to the side of his head, an effect of the negative energy coursing through KB's sparkling body.

The kick hit him before his own attack made contact, but the tip of his axehead would strike immediately after. The Dwarve aimed to wedge between the knee cap, a successful hit very likely to take his leg off. Throven's Waraxe attacks easily went through leather armor, and because all of KB's weight would be on the leg, defensive action would be very difficult.

Throven immediately transitioned into a roll after the attack, rising to his feet to the left of KB and keeping his Waraxe close to his chest. While he could have stayed in his previous position, he would be off balance and thus vulnerable.

...

-vooom vooom vooom-

...Was Throven's cell phone vibrating? He would of course ignore it, but why had he forgot to leave it in the locker room?

[magics- 6/8]

[cooldown- done]

~8/17~

Rounin Kuro Wrote:

Ping!

There was probably a dent in the Dwarf's helmet or some s**t, but KB didn't escape unscathed. The axe struck the vampire's leg and caused the monster to collapse. Thankfully, the leg wasn't severed at the joint. Instead the joint just looked mangled.

After landing hard on his side, KB immediately sighted down the length of Godhand and mustered his power. Just like before, three bolts of negative energy launched themselves from his right hand. However, instead of impacting the Dwarf's chest they would instead arc just out of range of his axe and smash into the ground by his feet. The resulting explosion would probably blow out his legs or something. It was hard to say.

[8/17]

The Female of the Species Wrote:

All the same, one might reckon that she'd get some good clawing on Wigi's meaty shoulder before she was flung overheard.

The ogre would let out a soft cry of pain as bone lashed into his shoulder, unleashing his throw before the digging could get in too deep. He shot back up and quickly made his way over to the nearby weapon rack, seeming further unphased after the short display of pain he just showed knowing full well it would just add fuel to the berserker's fire. He'd fought the type before and fought alongside them more, sometimes wielding the mask of wrath himself. Potent as it was, adding to the frenzy was just going to make this match messy as hell. While often he'd relish in this, he needed to be smart about this fight. After all, he couldn't grow ****** knives out of his hands. All he had was brute force and blunt trauma without his knife. By the time he got close enough she'd dice his a to ribbons unless he got her in a grapple.

And that was a boring, rather unenticing option for everyone. This was a fight after all. He wasn't trying to abduct Sokoya into a rape van or trying to give her a sensual message. He'd leave grappling to a minimum if he could help it.

The Female of the Species Wrote:

Rising quickly to her feet, Sokoya looked a bit roughed up, but not much worse for the wear. "Are you going to actually ******** hurt me or not?" She'd challenge him, spitting to the ground. She was past foreplay. She wanted to get to the main event.

He palmed a kunai and stuck it in his belt, a few ninja stars in hand, and slipped a large Chinese halberd into his grip as though it were light as a toothpick, silently cursing to the officials for putting up an oriental section and wishing that the boney b*h picked a set of racks, any set of racks that didn't have so much eastern-style st on it. But beggars can't be choosers, so he'd spin around while pointing the enormous halberd at his opponent, screaming out in his most racist voice possible.

"You have not honor! I DEFEAT IN MINUTE!!!"

He'd edge his way towards his opponent, tossing the three shuriken he palmed at her with halfhearted grace. While they spun in odd patterns they would be no less deadly if they hit home up and down her torso where he aimed, intentionally spraying out the the blades so that one hit towards her chest, the other below her sternum, and the last a few inches above her crotch. Assuming she didn't close the distance herself in this short span of time he'd do it himself once more, closing the short distance with a set of hefty strides. Crossing his left over his right side, the ogre would grip the large pole-arm around the lower-middle end of the bar and swipe out at his opponent horizontally, aiming to cleave the b***h in half were she to try to take the heavy weapon head-on.

He had confidence in Soak though, she'd delt with worse blows than this. He didn't want to insult her by going half-assed on his delivery just because she was an old friend. Though truth be told... in the crowd he was in friendship meant that they'd only take one of your kidneys instead of both when they harvested your unconscious body for organs and maybe, just maybe they'd leave you a clean pair of underwear when they raided your dressers.

[4/17]

Throven, disoriented from the Magnus attack, ran out of the sand plume in a random direction. His determination to continue fighting was exactly why he turned around a few feet from th-

-thwack-

"AHHCK!"

His own weapon had just struck into his meaty left forearm, embedding itself deep in there. Throven let out a roar of pain as he ripped the axe out with his Waraxe. The blood covered Dwarve paused a moment, picked his throwing axe up with his pain stricken free hand. He glared at KB.

"...Geddup, yeh ******. I dun'are if yeh gotteh hop wit'yer pale dk floppin' like'eh homo, yeh gonneh take a'beatin'."

A very pissed off Throven walked toward KB.

[magics- 6/8]

10/17

"Sure."

The vampire got to his feet, leaning heavily on his good leg. He tested the injured one and found it to be functioning beneath expectations. Hyperextended maybe, or possibly severed tendons, displaced kneecap? It was no secret that the ex-GSF operative was unfamiliar with the specifics of personal injury. Inflicting them was entirely different from sustaining them in his case.

Throven was on his way back to the fight though, freshly bleeding. The scent of the dwarf's blood flew on the wind. It made KB smile. At the edges of his mouth the skin pulled at the seam, and he smiled and smiled and smiled all too big.

beep beep beep!

"Excellent."

[10/17]

The sensation of flames scouring his flesh, the pain rippling through his entire body from the intense heat, was not a new experience for Fasumbra. Faintly his mind recalled a dark haired woman with crimson eyes laughing above him, molten stone dripping from her body onto his followed by agony he had never felt the like of before or since. Leathern scars on his torso ached beneath his Shigtoh.

This stinging fire was tender compared to that.

Though he could withstand this pain, Fasumbra could not grit his teeth through the irritation his eyes felt from heat so nearby. Almost as soon as he had open them, they were closed once again by a combination of necessity and tactical withdrawal; even if his eyes had been protected against the fire, he could see little through the orange-red storm before him. But, he didn’t really need to see. The lance head buried itself in Edward’s side and became stuck there, preventing him from moving it along its arc as he had intended. Well, ‘intended’ was a strong word; his body moved based on experience rather than a deliberate thought process. So when the lance became stopped and stuck he was not even momentarily disturbed. He merely moved on, abandoning whatever actions he had been ‘considering’ otherwise.

But before that, Fasumbra had a shield-bash to respond to. His brain flashed a warning to him that the cyborg was moving, easily discernible from the way the lance jostled as he came forward, but even he could not react in time to do much about it except try to move his head away from the fire and its source, which was currently the only real threat Edward had considering his grapple arm was still retracting towards him. Despite his efforts Edward’s shield would still hit, but thanks to his attempt at head movement be off target; rather than being able to focus on the jaw as he’d hoped, it would impact more on the half elf’s right cheek and forehead. Painful? Yes, especially considering how hot the steel was. Dizzying? Yes, certainly. But not as devastating as the cyborg probably wished for. However, the movement of Fasumbra’s head could do nothing about the three-hundred pounds of hot metal and flesh that slammed into him. He would indeed be toppled backwards as the cyborg hoped. But, before he fell there was a moment of contact, one that Fasumbra capitalized on even in his stunned state.

Though the impact was painful and somewhat disorienting, it did not override Fasumbra’s combat tested instinct. As Edward had thrust himself forward Fasumbra tried to raise his left arm and stiff-arm the mechanical trickster, but that action had been too late to really stop him. Despite the lateness of his attempt, the palm did actually meet Edward in his chest just after his leap. Edward probably wouldn’t even notice the arm until it touched him, thanks to a combination of his own flamethrower and his focused intentions on Fas’ head.

He also wouldn’t notice the flash of light there.

Instead, Edward would feel a sensation as though someone had just fired a shotgun into his chest, followed by a burning sensation his flamethrower probably only dreamed of. Rays of light had formed and lanced forward into his chest, their burning edges burying into the center of his chest. His spidersilk vest was effective against blades, and in this case it would save him from being shredded into swiss cheese. Within two feet these piercing rays could penetrate up to five inches into bare human flesh, and Edward had taken them from point-blank, but his coat would dull their impact somewhat, allowing them to penetrate only three inches into his torso. That being said, he would find the damage was quite extensive, especially as the seven rays remained buried in their new homes, burning like shining coals. His lungs, his diaphragm, his esophagus; all would easily fall victim to their piercing might. How long could he stand without breathing?

Even as the rays were launched, Fasumbra stumbled back to his left several steps, feeling his balance going out of his control. Though dizzied outside of conscious thought for the moment, his training came into play. Violently the half-elf jerked the lance back to him, raking its blade along the wound unintentionally, and jammed the back spearhead into the sandy ground behind him with a screech of metal on stone. It wouldn’t stick there thanks to the durability of the rock making up the arena floor, but the force was enough to stop him from completely toppling. Even though he managed to avoid being set on his a**, Fas still had to stumble awkwardly backwards to create distance, though his long legs made the retreat decently fast. After a moment he switched hands, letting the spearhead on the floor become the ‘front’ head and lifting it upward with his left arm to point at Edward in case he attempted to continue his rush.

With his free right hand Fasumbra tore flames from his hair, gritting his teeth as he did so and discarding the pain of the burns across his face. Oh certainly they were agonizing, and he could even faintly feel the weeping of several lesions as fluids dripped from them. But they meant nothing to him. They would not hinder his ability to fight unless he gave in to weakness. Fasumbra drew in a hissing breath and then blew it out forcefully, imagining as he did so that it was expelling all vestiges of pain from his body. It helped somewhat.

But surely this wasn’t over already?

“Is that all you have, charlatan? Underhanded trickery will grant you nothing against me. If that’s the best you can do, you should crawl back to your hole.”

Fas felt it safe to reopen his eyes at this point, opening them in a glare towards his opponent. Emerald eyes burned with all the intensity of the flames Edward had tried to burn them out with. No, this certainly was not over.

[Post 6 of 17]

Quote:** Wrote:

Mana Remaining: 11/15

Name: Refraction

Type/Target Light Magic Projectiles/Opponent

Cost: 4 mp

Description: Fas summons up a ray of Light magic, and then uses the natural properties of light to scatter or reflect it within 10 feet of himself. There are two ways to use the ability: One is to diffuse the energy all at once, firing a shotgun-like pattern of small light projectiles that do minimal damage individually but have a heavy cumulative damage. The other is to fire a single beam of light, and reflect it off an invisible “wall” in the air within the 10 foot range, using the unorthodox nature of the attack to catch an opponent off-guard. [*] In single-beam form it may only reflect once, and creates an unnatural humming sound like an exposed power line. The “shotgun” pattern is not capable of being reflected. Damage wise, the two vary: the single beam causes 2nd degree burns on contact with human flesh, and can cause 1st degree ones even through light clothing. The shotgun spray inflicts piercing damage, capable of punching 4-5 inches into flesh within 2 feet of the initial launch, but losing power over distance until becoming harmless at 10 feet. At point blank they’re capable of piercing through light armors, but obviously will not go as deeply as was intended into the opponent. The tiny rays of light also burn inside the craters they form, inflicting 2nd degree burns after a full turn of contact.

Zeo Hiroboshi Wrote:

There were two types of people in this world. There were thinkers, and there were doers. It was becoming more and more clear just which camp these two fighters fell into. Wigi, despite his appearance and figure seemed to be quite the tactician. Rumor has it that the Fae usually pit captured children against each other for sport....perhaps he'd picked up some tactics through the damning fire of these combats? Either way, he seemed to handle himself quite aloof in all of this.

Sokoya....well, she had found a strategy and stuck to it. Round after round. Bloodied victim after victim. She was a doer. The strategy did indeed boil down to little more than charging headfirst into combat whether or not that was a good idea. And she survived each time because she had the grit to. The burning desire to hurt deep down inside her. She fought with it so much outside of the ring, but in here. In the arena she nurtured it. Embraced it. And it'd never left her down yet. But hey, maybe today was the day.

The brawler would duck and tumble under Wigi's slash, attempting to return fire in her own two handed style. Unfortunately, all she'd get for it would be a nice chunk of a meat. Stinky...sweaty...ogre a meat in what was probably a thong of her own old panties. For a girl that got off to the thrill of combat, even that little mental image was a bit much. Still, a blow was a blow. The both of them were honestly fairing a bit better than expected. Superficial wounds were starting to pile up, but there hadn't been anything serious. Not yet anyway.

Here that other end of the Chinese halberd thing had to come and ruin everything. Sokoya noticed it easily enough. It was hard not to. However, it was far too late to simply duck under it. She'd committed herself to an attack. And while the blood gushing would that thick shaft would create was certainly tempting, the girl would have to pass on letting this fight end here and no. She threw herself best as she could in the same direct that Wigi was swinging. He'd still connect firmly with the side of the skull, but the blow would be lessened. That, and he wouldn't be striking a possibly one hit kill spot.

The girl tumbled end over end a bit as pain pulsed and throbbed through her skull. Tougher than normal it may be, she was still seeing stars like she was in a cartoon. Fighting insticts kicked in, causing Sokoya to keep scrambling backwards and to her feet as she gathered her senses. She was focused now and watching for movement that'd indicate a follow up attack to avoid, and gathering herself up for a new attack. She's building a charge, yo.

MP: 7/10

STRIKER EXIT.

Miss? Definitely not in a close proximity; however, it wouldn't hit Throven's precise target, it was against an opponent like the Dwarf that the Cyborg thought ahead. Darren's gaze never truly left his target, no trained fighter would let their enemy leave their sight, time would almost slow as the adrenaline coursed through the metal Tyrant's bloodstream. Each slight movement Throven made was choreographed, registering in the Cyborg's brain almost immediately, which left Darren expecting the Dwarf's attack. Hence the sudden raise of his cybernetic limb, it would hardly take a second for a fluent motion of the arm, and the axe met a swift demise.

Clang!

Throven's axe struck the metal arm with a rather abrupt sound, denting the Ferrium C69 quite nicely, and would then be swatted aside. Upon realizing that the spear hadn't pierced the Dwarf's thigh, the Cyborg high-tailed it out of the colosseum just as quickly as he had entered, weapon in hand. Back peddling away from KB's opponent and breaking into another stunningly fast sprint. Just before leaping back over the wall into the group of spectators, Darren's right arm found the waistband of his pants and yanked them down forcefully. Scooping his thumb into the band of his boxers as well, hopefully Throven wasn't a lycanthrope, for this moon was quite pale and full.

The Female of the Species Wrote:

Fighting insticts kicked in, causing Sokoya to keep scrambling backwards and to her feet as she gathered her senses.

Only to be followed by another swipe from the pointy end of Wigi's stick.

That rather long Halberd gave the changeling enormous reach. Combine the roughly 6 foot polearm with the arm length of the 7'3" giant and you get roughly 9 feet of reach at max, give or take. So as Sokoya went rolling around Wigi would continue spinning the weapon around, turning his body and pivoting his feet to gather momentum as he followed after her. He'd adjust the grip of his weapon as needed in this short moment, sliding both hands low on the grip to maximize his range, leaving his left high enough to stabilize the weapon for impact.

This was all one fluent motion, from snapping the silver-haired fighter in the face to spinning around like some sort of classy dancer. He didn't stop to think about how much his friend might've been injured or how it might've been nice to give her a chance to get back on her feet. No... that went to the wayside when she tried to stab him in the dk with his own **** knife while nearly sodomizing him with her own! Though truth be told, he did half expect it from a crazy b*h like Sokoya. All the same, he didn't have to like it to accept that it had happened and, given the chance, she'd try it again.

By the time Sokoya was done scrambling backwards another strike was already lashing at her, aiming to cut her legs out from under her with the gathered speed and strength from his twirling about. The blow was aimed just below her knee, hoping to take out some of that mobility she had going for her while attempting to compensate for the possibility of her getting some of that bone s**t going down her leg.

It would be bloody and gruesome if it made a full connect, but again, Wigi didn't much delve into restraint when it came to fights. People have already insulted him a time or two in this tourney by pulling punches, making note to stop the fight long enough to spit at their efforts of 'sportsmanship' and 'honor', whatever wonky crap they were trying to peddle to make themselves feel better about brutally crippling another living thing. He wouldn't stoop to that level of insult unless he really just didn't like that person. Mercy was for the weak, for those who can't comprehend what its like to step into a real life or death situation or what it took to come out of it alive. To him, really letting go was the highest form of honor one could bestow upon another. It was the only true way to fight.

Connection or not, the ogre would let out a great scream as he swung his blade, that deep, resonating voice bellowing out into the stadium as he gave his parting blow. "Defeat!!! Dragon Twista!!!"

[6/17]

Well that didn't turn out as Wigi had anticipated. Not only did he not cut into the silver-haired berserker, he hardly even slowed her down! With his weapon positioned as it was, swinging around with such reckless waste, it would be impossible to react as quickly as he wanted. All that momentum and power wasn't just going to stop on a dime so he kept turning with it, pulling the weapon back and easing his grip towards the center of the weapon to regain stability. By the time he was facing Sokoya again she'd be chunking his bowie out like it was some sort of throwing knife.

He felt a little wounded about this. Not only was she throwing his own knife at him like it was scrap metal, but she was also throwing it straight at his armored body as though it would do something more than just slow him down. A big weapon like that wasn't really made to be thrown. HIS big weapon wasn't meant to be thrown. All that dual-wielding potential just... gone.

It was time to make things more interesting. This whole fight was getting to be too predictable for the ogre's tastes, too stagnant. And with all this ranged business he had over his opponent things were starting to get... boring, easy even. With one swift motion he shifted his body to the side, raising his arms and allowing the bowie to graze his armor with little effort. Soon after he'd raise his leg while bringing his weapon down to his knee to snap the wooden polearm in half.

He literally just snapped his weapon in half like it was nothing, like it was the natural thing to do in this situation. He even gave a knowing, arrogant smile to Sokoya in an attempt to taunt her as he eased himself back into his stance, widening it to provided more stability as he placed the flat of the blade against one arm while pointing both sticks upright and roughly chest-level to his opponent.

"Come at me!" He cried out with that trademark jolly, careless expression plastered on his face. "Give these people their moneys worth!"

It was all a show to level the playing field and edge out some excitement. The crowd loved the display, evident by their boisterous cheers ringing throughout the stadium. Still, even or not, the changeling wasn't about to loosen up his control over the fight. As soon as she got within range, about five feet away, he'd make his move, shooting a quick forward jab with his right (unbladed) stick towards the berserker's throat as he shifted his body sideways, grinning ear from ear like a madman.

Dainty as ever, shifting from power to finesse like a toddler flipping a switch. That would be the story of Wigi's role in this fight.

[7/17]

Nothing but air.

This was to be expected, the first strike in each clash almost always missed or got countered, provided one could react to it. However, this is why he chose a quick attack, something that was easily manipulated after the initial strike. So as she came sweeping up with that Kukri it'd connect solidly enough, Wigi would even go with the sweeping motion, shuffling himself backwards in transit with Sokoya as he twirled the stick with the sweep. He'd bring the stick around full circle to swing beneath the weapon to keep his arm from swinging outwards before pinning it against the berserker's forearm wielding the Kukri. From here he'd push forward, lowering his arm to gain enough leverage to pin her arm against her body as she came rushing in.

Assuming that the bone spike was still coming in...

This left a clear sight of her open hand shooting out towards his body. Seeing as how she was holding out an open palm and he was aware she could grow boney blades out of her body, seemingly at will, it wasn't hard to piece together what the berserker was aiming to do. He'd twirl his left stick into motion, sweeping the weapon in an arc in front of his body to knock her hand out to his left (her right). From here he'd brace himself down, widening his stance and digging in to gather enough stability and leverage to keep her hand clear of his body. And since she was coming forward and he was staying still, both arms still occupied, that left one course of action left.

A knee to the gut. Simple, sweet and easy to pull off with her running in on him like that. He'd raise his right leg at the last moment, slamming it into her stomach to knock the wind out of her. Unless she had some armor or something beneath her clothes the blow could easily knock the berserker's breath out for a few moments. As soon as the knee sunk in he'd push her away with his right arm and leg to get a little breathing room between the two.

Didn't want the boney b***h to turn him into a pin cushion after all.

[8/17]

((apologies for the lack of finesse ahead of time. Sort of got a lot going on at the house atm that needs my attention. The next post won't be so... bland.))

Fas couldn't be aware of... well, anything that happen after being struck in the face by the shield. His shot missing its mark went unnoticed at first, though once he had recovered and opened his eyes he could feel the still 'living' light rays burning in Edward's side rather than his chest, though in much fewer numbers than he'd wished for. That wasn't as planned, but it was something.

"This? This is nothing, a mere abrasion. Though I suppose the destruction of my hair is something of a victory."

Even as he stood burned with a smattering of weeping blisters on his face, Fasumbra Langardo was still himself. Inwardly he was shocked by the fact that he was still in control, that his other side hadn't come out screaming and cursing at the sensation of being torched. Perhaps it had been sated in its other outbursts? Regardless, Fasumbra prepared himself for the next exchange. Surely there would be no pause in the fight; even injured Edward didn't seem the type to retreat, and Fasumbra cared little about the pain on his face and neck.

The question of whether they would continue was answered by Edward beginning to advance, now with a secondary shield in his hand along with the one that was, quite literally, his own arm.

"I see you are not interested in forfeiting. Very well then."

Fasumbra stood straighter now, freeing his right hand from the haft of the lance before gesturing with it, palm to the sky. Instantly an orb of crimson formed there, hot flames condensed into a fireball shuddering slightly, as though struggling to be let free. The half-elf would happily oblige.

Palming the orb, Fasumbra took a step forward and hurled it at Edward. Well technically it was a bit to Edward's left, but this was in fact a curveball. Halfway along its path it began to take a violent turn to Edward's right. The intention? Fake out the cyborg, hoping he would stand still and take it to his right side or dodge to his right, directly into its modified path.

But wait, the man-machine had two shields. Why would Fasumbra throw fireblls at him?

Upon impact the ball would pop like a water balloon, spilling its fiery contents in an almost liquid state around whatever it hit. If the cyborg were careless about how he defended himself, he would receive the 'splash' of the fire's impact instead of its full brunt.

Meanwhile, Fasumbra would begin advancing cautiously, allowing himself plenty of room to see how his attack went and react accordingly.

[Post 7 of 17]

Quote:** Wrote:

Mana Remaining: 8/15

Name: Fireball

Type/Target Simple Fire-type Projectile/Opponent

Cost: 3 mp + 1 mp for minor homing

Description: Fas extends an open palm to the opponent, and projects an orb of flame from it at the opponent.[*] The flames will continue to burn for around 2 seconds, even on completely fire-resistant surfaces, and can cause normal human flesh to suffer 1st to 2nd degree burns within this period depending on length of contact. After the initial turn, they behave as normal fire would, either consuming fuel to continue burning or snuffing themselves out. For an extra MP, Fas can make the Fireball home in on the opponent, causing it to mildly alter its course if the opponent moves out of the way. It cannot correct itself very much, and thus an evasion covering a bit of extra ground will be enough to overcome it. The way Fas launches the orb effects the speed and trajectory. Fas can choose to simply launch it from his hand, or physically hurl it in a pitching motion. When merely launched, the fireball will have a very flat, straight trajectory and advances at about 5 feet per second. When pitched, however, Fas can control its speed and trajectory similarly to an actual pitcher with fastballs, curveballs, change-ups, etc.

'It would appear I need to work on my pitching.'

Fasumbra's pitch had been intended to fake out Edward, but it had floated a bit too much out to the cyborg's left side and tipped him off to its intentions. The only defense Edward required was to merely move forward, out of the path of the moderate curveball. Fas frowned at that waste of magical energy, but there was nothing to be done now; it was his own fault for not throwing it properly.

Edward continued his forward momentum, and Fas caught a glimmer of light as his somewhat damaged shield-arm began to raise, the lights reflecting off them in a different direction before becoming focused on the half-elf's face. Having already been caught by that trick of the light before, Fas began raising his free right hand to shade his eyes as soon as he saw the metal shine. The redirected beam caught him as intended, but only for a split second as opposed to the somewhat sustained exposure Edward had intended.

Though he was momentarily blinded, he would still have plenty of vision in time to see his cybernetic opponent removing his recently acquired shield from his arm. In Fasumbra's mind that meant one of a few plausible actions. Sometimes one would discard their shield if it no longer felt useful, but Fas doubted that was the case here considering he had only just gotten it. Alternatively, he could be preparing an offensive, using the shield as a weapon rather than a defensive tool. One of the ways he could do so would be...

...throwing it.

Edward launched the shield in what seemed like retaliation for Fas' own projectile, its wide surface spinning through he air like a discus. In the back of his mind Fas appreciated the craftsmanship of the shield, well balanced enough to be thrown in such a manner. But that was unimportant. Thankfully Fas' arm was already up by his face, shielding it from Edward's blinding attempt, so Fas brought it crashing down with significant force, slamming into the top of the shield as it reached him with his gauntlet-covered fist. Of course, the shield was too wide for him to solely hit with his fist, so a portion of his forearm was also involved and would feel a dulled impact through the heavy fabric of the Shigtoh. It hurt somewhat, but Fasumbra's armor was designed to counter blunt force so it protected him quite well. There would be a bruise there later, but otherwise Fasumbra was fine. The shield would slam into the floor and bounce aside, tumbling roughly three feet to Fasumbra's right.

"That seemed a bit too hopeful on your part, to think I'd be caught by the same trick twice." The half-elf grinned faintly at Edward before moving to strike in response.

Fas returned his hand to the haft of his lance before taking a few quick steps toward Edward, then taking a violent swing at Edward's exposed right knee. Of course, Fas had no idea it was another prosthetic, but the lance wasn't light. The force of the impact might knock Edward off balance. Meanwhile, Fas would silently curse that his opponent seemed to be 80% metal as the lance stung his hands with its reverberations.

Of course, if Edward tried to advance on Fas in the midst of this, the half-elf was prepared to take defensive measures.

[Post 8 of 17]