Serren vs Joseph

SERREN GLACIAL (TEAM RISING STAR) vs JOSEPH WALSH (TEAM [NAME PENDING])

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Carnival Blowout

Come one, come all and step right up to the very first Heaven or Hell Carnival extravaganza! It's mostly safe for oldbies and children alike from all over Gaia! But please be careful as there is still minor construction and wet paint about the premises!

Here we show case the champions from years past! With rides and monoliths such as: The Sword-Go-Round!™, THE NECK BREAKER™ for the past crowned and newly reformed Bloody Pandas, GLACIER Pops!™, and life like Ryugi Kazamaru statues at the entrance of each ride -- ensuring youngin's must be 'This tall to ride', and so much more!

Be sure to visit each of our stands to buy candy, refreshments and souvenirs!

And remember folks...!

Don't ******** with the paint.

General - A soon-to-be wonderland celebrating the hard-hitters and champs of the past tournaments.

Weapons - Statues, stands, goods and paint cans.

Natural Element Resource - Vomit. Wood, metal, cotton candy.

Bonus Effects - Vertigo from rides and a wholesome, jolly-swell time!

Near The Sword-Go-Round!™, passed out on a bench was Joseph snoring loudly and obnoxiously. He only had a vague idea of why he was here. He had gotten there about an hour ago, and feeling tired he simply laid down and took a nap. His FIGHTER was the only thing that kept the park crew from waking him up.

“ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ”

“I’m telling you Doc, it was the Giant Claw! No I haven’t taken any acid in the last week….ZZZZZZ”

The homeless looking Joseph P. Walsh was dead asleep, his nap having taken more precident than his fight. This would go on for several minutes, untill he yawned, groggily woke up, and started stretching.

Noticing the undead doctor, and the fighter on her wrist he would simply ask,

“Mind if I stretch first?”

5 minutes of streaching later the seemingly broken man assumed a loose fighting position.

“Ready,” He yawned loudly, “When you are…”

He was about 10 feet away from is opponent, waiting.

“JESUS CHRIST!”

Golden aura swirled around and stopped the blow a foot above Joe, now wide awake as adrenaline forced itself through his body. His brain was more awake than he realized, and had caught the movement just in time to reflexively throw up the Aura shield.

Scrambling out of the way he got out of reach of Serren and Wilson.

Clad in a tee that read MDMA helps me sleep and cargo pants, the 6’ tall fighter looked as if the s**t had been scared right out of him.

Rubbing his hand through his oily brown hair he remarked,

“I need to stop mixing codeine and coke for dinner…”

Finally calling out to his opponent, “Its common courtesy to not beat people with a stick as they wake up you know b***h.”

The effects of having used the aura shield hit him a bit harder than usual. He could feel his energy wane, he couldn’t gather enough of it to create a weapon, but it didn’t matter. He could do so in a moment.

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Aura shield: Aura erupts in front of Joe creating a frontal barrier that blocks a frontal attack. The shield is as tall as he is and stands a foot in front of him. Abilities that have flowing mechanics such as fire or water react as they normally would when faced with a barrier.

[uno de los diez]

The druggie dropped to all fours like a beast when the makeshift spear was thrown. He himself started to move forwards, first on all fours, then sprinting forward after Wilson flew overhead. Golden motes of aura formed around his hands as his aura claws started to form. When he reached Serren, his right elbow would be the first thing to attempt to say hi to her face.

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Aura Claws: Aura flows from Joe’s fingers coating them and forming simple knife-like claws extending two inches from his fingertips.

[dos de los diez]

Serren suppressed her disappointment in Wilson, who had failed to hit a hobo at a point blank 6 feet. Any average spear would have run Joseph through just like that! Apparently he hadn’t been getting enough exercise, he must have run out’ve breath halfway there and slowed down just enough to give Joseph the leisure time to casually throw himself on all fours like a common rodent. This was the second time poor Wilson had failed to assault the handicapable assailant.

Well it looked like Serren would have to deal with him all by her self. Her right foot was planted forward, her right arm extended out in front of her, her torso hunched forward from her impromptu jave-Wilson throw. Reminded of her days fighting beside the Spartans (and by “beside”, she really meant “with”, “on”, and “inside”), Serren took this grand opportunity to straighten back up, drawing her left knee up against her breast as Joseph hurried forward for his chest angiogram via foot. Her arms lifted almost straight above her head with her hands splayed limp wristedly outward, to steady her slender body balanced on one leg as if she were a ballerina preparing for an open pirouette. A less cultured individual might shout “Hey that’s the karate kid pose!”

The facts were these; Serren was one inch over seven feet tall, putting her uniquely…“beautiful” face well above the ground, which meant Joseph had quite a ways to leap up to get his elbow all the way up there. It also meant her legs had more than sufficient range for what she was about to do. Far superior range to a 6 foot man’s elbow.

As Joseph began to bound up in front of her like an overly eager if exceptionally ugly puppy. Serren flapped her arms down like the wings of a swan (gaudy Elfin grace!) and thrusted her left foot straight into center of his chest long before his elbow could connect, using the Greek’s most devastatingly effective attack; the Sparta kick. She forwent the customary verbiage.

If executed properly, Joseph would be kicked well away, and she would have pushed herself back onto her left leg. The moment she regained her footing she would be off like a shot, running forward and directly past wherever Joseph had landed, to reach down and scoop up Wilson as she passed.

[3 out of 10]

Time slowed as Serren sprinted towards poor Wilson, her high heels hitting the ground hard in an extremely fast sprint but not fast enough. Her light gate betrayed that Serren did not weigh much, less than a hundred pounds to be certain.

Wilson gazed up as the torment of his life, Serren, raced to his right, out stretching her left hand to scoop him up. Wilson hated her hands most because they were most familiar to him, her gray hard leather skin tightened and stretched over her nobly long and thick bones ending in sharp nails. These were disgusting hands that never knew moisturizer. Her hand now inches from his mid staff a miracle occurred, the glowing golden aura of god's merciful grace enveloped him and lifted him away. Wilson could hear the siren trumpets of gods angels as he was promptly blasted across the carnival grounds out of sight behind one of the theme rides.

Serren slammed the breaks as her feet left jagged scrapes in the ground. She reared around, turning left, her eyes ablaze with rage and malice. Her teeth were beared revealing one of her most unpleasant features. Her teeth were sharpened tarnished metal dentures, fixed in place. Close inspection would reveal cuts in her tortured mouth and on her lips.

In her rage another putrid quality of her became evident; Serren's own magic made an appearance. Every weed, every tuft of grass, and every insect with in a two foot radius of her promptly browned and died consumed in a blight aura that she her self emitted.

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*Blight (magical ability) Serren exudes a proximic aura that will inflict a blight on surrounding living organisms. Blight is simply a rapid and complete necrosis, browning, than death of living tissues.

With livid vigor Serren faced Joseph directly and arched forward ever so slightly like an emaciated towering raptor preparing to jump. Her arms outwardly stretched, her hands contorted violently yielding an invisible magic that promised unknown consequences.

She waited for Joseph to move, waiting with restrained rapacious intent, ready to react.

[4 out of 10]

Serren saw the plot device; unsure of what it was. She decide not to wait, this was her chance to sprint forward with a 5 foot standing jump to ensure a head-start and close the gap.

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Her maximum standing jump height is almost 6 feet and running speed is 17 mph.

The facts were these; 85 years, 5 months, 6 days, 14 hours, and 16 minutes ago, Serren was raised from a long line of Cannibalistic South American tribesmen who adopted her when she lost way while accompanying Indiana Jo-something as one of his many female sidekicks that didn't work out. These tribesmen 1) did not approve of curse words (e.g. DAMMIT), 2) believed that violence was always the answer and 3) were disposed to fabricating massive origin stories that are often fictional and indicative of severe psychological collapse.

But, much like Indiana Jo-something the Cannibalistic South American tribesmen found Serren to not only be clingy but just plain sad, or as the cannibals called it "badd ju-ju". However brief together their time had been; those two hours left Serren imprinted with the strong values and convictions of her tribesmen. Convictions she practiced long after the tragic deaths of the Cannibalistic South American tribesmen, from....unknown causes, possibly or possibly not, related to excessive bludgeoning.

Violence is always the answer and Serren practiced it like a devout nun. Closing the gap with dizzying speed she would throw a hard right punch containing all her momentum paralleled with the head of the now medicinally engaged Joseph. She ran ever so slightly to his left to ensure a decent window for the blow with a slightly bent elbow. She intended to interrupt him near the end of his first inhale; she would hate to deprive him his medication entirely, its a common courtesy. With luck, his current treatment would hold his attention, and hopefully none of his medication would spill in the air where she breathed.

[5 out of 10]

Serren's punch landed true to little avail. The addict had made himself immune to pain, but surly not all pain. She stood facing him slightly to his left side only 4 feet away or so. He dared her to come hither.

But Serren saw shadows in the corner of vision and her head turned sharply trying to see them. She had clearly suffered contamination from the man's medication. She looked back at Joseph, her face scared, as her eyes went in and out of focus. She stumbled forward her left foot planting closer to Joseph as she threw her hands for his shoulders trying to catch herself.

As the synapses in her brain deafened in a panicked cacoffiny of noises; she stumbled and mumbled accusingly,"Drugs not meds?...is there no god?"

Her face now stricken with grief as tears welled in her sad panicked eyes she would look at Joseph beseechingly, her hands on his shoulders, and sharply bring her right knee up and forward. She would bluff her sudden illness all for a chance hit him where pain was guaranteed. Her knee would make contact and open negotiations with his jewels, his ju ju bees, his stones, his dignity. Serren hoped he wasn't eunuch and that he did indeed have the balls to take the blow.

[6 out of 10]

Time froze.

The divide between one's consciousness and soul birthed an essence that took a defined shape, armored and with a regal red cape. It was a massive knight the size of two men in height, towering over Joe and Serren with extreme ease. Intense eyes bore down upon them, and though they would not see it consciously.. somewhere within them, the knowledge they had been "visited" would be known.

"Patrick Walsh. You have misapplied and abused your prowess with lethal intent in mind. The foolishness you have displayed is not well appreciated."

Sheen. Rose upright in that right gauntlet was a double edged blade, the metal white and shined immaculately.

At once, this knight's eyes pulsated to the point they bulged out of the metal socket plates -- and the concentrated beam disappeared from this world just inches prior to making contact with Joe's foe. Then, the judge's massive blade swung tip-first at Patrick Walsh, a high pitched screech emitting from it.

"..You will suffer in LOGIC. Resume your battle."

The tear, the time disconnect.. all disappeared. Serren and Patrick Walsh would find themselves now seven feet apart, both standing square.

Code: [Summary: Logic penalty, combat resumed.]

Serren's brain skipped a beat like an old vinyl record. She blinked, flash processing every thing around her.

One. the air smelled subtly of mint-julip.

Two. Willson was gone.

Three. She did not like the person in front of her.

Not missing a beat Serren vaulted forward. Her legs making jest of gravity till she was three feet away. In a show of her finest acrobats she threw her arms out and side ways and pounced into the air. Serren would glide up into the air like a circus performer who transfixes you in their physical fitness that almost redeems their grotesque faces.

Serren could jump a near 6 feet and coupled with running momentum she would plant a full two feet into his upper chest. She aimed through the air feet first, her back diagonally to the ground, upper body at a higher elevation in a souped up jump kick. She planned to ride him to the ground, surfing on top of him, but landings of such abandon rarely go as planned. Hopefully a collar bone would be break or the such, possibly maybe feasibly causing him pain.

((Edit: I cleared with a judge before un-pausing.))

[7 out of 10]

Serren was in the air by this point and the claymore shined of gold like an airport landing in heaven. Serren desperately tried to renegotiate her landing. But aerial renegotiations had failed peace talks, and diplomacy was akin to pulling teeth, or in this case denying physics. Serren settled for a cease fire where she would get the worst of it.

She aimed her feet to his left hoping her shoes would knock aside the blade of indeterminate length, again her vision was blurry, the blade had no width and no length.

However this did not change the now botched landing, as Serren's mass, starting with her left hip would hit Joseph some where in the upper body.

His blade would certainly create a shallow, but by all means painful laceration in one of her calfs. But at this speed it would be hard to determine which calf would fail negotiations.

Joseph, unless his footing and body were akin to a steel statue, would fall back wards with Serren tumbling onto and over, likely passing him landing sideways, head to his right and feet to his left, rolling horizontally as if on fire or jumping from a moving car. Coming to rest 4 feet away, she would access that her right calf took it like a like an African orphan takes starvation...lying down.

[8 out of 10]

Serren noticed her right calf had a cut in it. Not too bad it, would heal quickly provided if her next few moves were non offensive in nature. Serren gingerly stood up and placed weight on the leg. It held her weight. In fact her movements her only mildly impeded. Aborting the jump was finally a bet that paid off. But in her self revelry, Joseph had acquired Wilson in a most duplicitous matter.

Her self assessment had taken too long. Wilson had become a turncoat. Serren stared heavily at the two of them looking old and forlorn. Their nefarious love, evident in their hand gestures, they way they looked at each other; Wilson had been lead astray.

"I have failed you, and how lost you have become," Serren spoke in rebuke. Her hands began contorting as if in pain as she crouched only and inch or two like a predatory animal preparing an ambush. But her face didn't show pain, she was calculating, and then she was smiling.

Sprung and ready she placed her right foot back, facing Joseph diagonally her shoulders matched her feet and her open left hand and arm cocked back, her right following form.

"I am sorry, forgive me," she concluded preparing for the beat down that would be coming her way.

[9 out of 10]

Serren did not move, she was far ahead of this, her left hand contorting wielding an invisible blight. And as Joseph come upon her almost 6 feet way, she at long last made use of her vast repertoire of magical attacks.

She focused a necrotic blight on Wilson, her left hand waving him away as if he was a fly that annoyed her. The hard wood of poor Wilson, in and around Joseph's hands, would collapse in to debris of detritus. Serren was undead in a sense, she was cursed, a curse that manifested horrifically upon the organic. Touch was unnecessary to inflict her wretched abilities, she breathed famine.

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*Organic Collapse. Serren can focus her blight anywhere within 5 yards of her. This has a devastating effect on organic material like wood (living or dead). Targeted material perceivably sags or bows, then browns, and finishes by disintegrating. For example, Serren can with little effort remove the leg from a wood chair and craft it into a spear or with enough time burn a hole through a wood floor or at least weaken it, wooden rafters on building are subject as well; with respect for spectator safety. This effect induces cellular collapse, and only works on organic matter. Serren can disintegrate organic material at about 48 square inches per second.

Weaponless, his hands grasping at air and soot low to his chest for his attempted pike, Serren would quickly anchor his hair with her readied left hand and with her right fist already cocked from her previous position, she would perform her final dental surgery via punching. She would remove his teeth so that he could swallow them.

[10 out of 10]

Serren's fighter beeped letting her know the fight was done. She recovered Wilson very grateful that she didn't actually need to dismember him.

"You did well seducing the enemy", she kissed him warmly on the cheek. Serren paused listening to him and responded, "oh you honey trap, you. No one can resist your charm, but I fear Ryugi just does not swing that way. "