Showcase of the Immortals

"I wanted a warmup after my injuries, and this.. this is what I got.."

In the southwest corner, already trapped within the metallic cage of blood was a man. The roars and the raw adrenaline that crowd was generating, it was ridiculous. It agitated. Then it instigated. It poked and prodded at an already restless creature, the man garbed in red shaking visibly from his facial structure right down to each limb.

huff, huff, huff, huff, huff, drop

An elaborate red coat, ornate serpents depicted across it with a single slash-mark at the back, dropped to the floor. There stood a spry man standing at 5'11 with 182 lbs of mass upon him, muscles and noticeably cut flesh outright being bit into by metal chain-mesh armor all along his body. Crink crink rang out his sharp tipped gauntlet fingers, grasping at air near his waist wildly. The man who had not even moved an inch yet, was visibly sweating. Heat was emitting off his skin.

It was the reemerged [Omi Barsait], a man of many stories in his own right known as the serpent of the crimson mists, who's hair stood up on end. Then, his restless hands ran along his temples, brows furrowed with an indescribable focus -- and razed through his own lengthy brown hair before dropping to his sides again. Yes, not even his bizarre equipment, massive red snake heads on his shoulders and eerie weaponry on both sides of his hips notwithstanding could distract the onlookers from his lethal intent.

"Save one fallacy, we're confined to this cage.. good." CRUNCH, popping his shoulder audibly did Barsait usher in his dramatic steps towards his metallic stairway to limbo. "It means I won't need to worry about giving him chase.."

Another flash of the dramatic, Barsait chose to leap off the last step rather than step through the ropes, landing in his ring's corner with that skull whipped upward.

Finally, his voice emitted outward. No need for electronic equipment to enhance it. It flowed with a mixture of dominance and an emerging growl.

"..very well. My given name: Barsait. Pleasure.. Ecstuffuannnnnnn... go for the killing blows. I won't feel quite as guilty doing the same."

Though the noise shot through the roof, the air itself shaking from frenzied spectator's words, it was clear to one standing close these were all the words Omi felt the need to share. Those dark metal links spanning his torso looked more like chains trying to stay back a beast than armor in these precious moments of solidarity.

Yes.. the malformed scars. The countless scars on his upper body, practically shining in contract through the oval holes of his armor, began to shine faintly with something far beyond sweat. Red, though not of blood.

And, his arms spanning out horizontally at a reach of 72" each, let the sharp tipped gauntlet hands outstretch noiselessly at shoulder level. Barsait was, for reasons of his own discern, more than anxious to begin. Again, only a man entering his proximity could feel it -- but one such person would have to realize, the 3 count rule, the cage around them, the crowd, the referee, the countless eyes.. this man was melting them away already.

Soon, all that would matter was not who the crowd screamed more for. Nor would it be what inane rules the world of man developed for them.

It would be who had more bones intact.

Before the bell could ring and neutral corners declared dead, Barsait seemed to be eying the retreating psion with strict focus. Interesting. Truth be told, even he had heard rumors of Tresondros, here and there.. still, the adoration was made manifest, you could grab it. That's how powerful the reverence of this crowd was.

Perfect.

That meant when Tres laid unmoving on the ground, it would be that much more satisfying. Suddenly, the man who had viewed this match as a small publicity stunt coupled into an exercise began to stop being a man, and manifest his personality into a hunting cobra. There, ahead, was strong but.. vulnerable prey. The moment he broke Ecstuffuan's neck with his "fangs," the crowd would go silent. And all of that obnoxious noise would outright die, yes..

Yes, this suddenly gained purpose.

It was not that Barsait was a foreigner to fame and the crowd's aura, it was that he did everything in his power to ignore it. At best, abuse it. Rather than empower him, those chants and cries felt .. ignorant. They were revering a manifestation of Barsait, not the man. They were idolizing how much money he might make them off some under the table bet, not his ideals.

So.. the bell rang.

And, lo & behold, the smaller man Barsait began his little jaunt towards Tres. Of interest was his squared stance, walking with great purpose... but little more. His arms were entirely relaxed at either side. Why, it wasn't a fighting stance at all. Literally, Omi was walking from his corner of hell as though there were a destination past Tres he ought to reach and.. nothing more. Open, defenseless, and without any visible means of retaliation to an attack.

And yet still, both his eyes stopped blinking. No, long ago stopped. They were fixated on Tres, with unerring focus, with relentless detail, his thick combat boots not made for such a ring clicking into the floor with each - step - step - step ...

Serpentine Condition Wrote:

[Left Hand]

[I] Thumb Serpent: Has begun manifesting within Barsait's bloodstream. (Forming.)

[I] Index Finger Serpent: (Forming.)

[I] Middle Finger Serpent: (Forming.)

[I] Ring Finger Serpent: (Forming.)

[I] Small Finger Serpent: (Forming.)

[Tongue]

[I] Upper-Mid Back Serpent: Beginning to manifest at a slower rate than the rest, giving time for their prompt arrival. (Forming.)

Truth be told, though Tresondros was well known to Barsait and the man's exploits & renown were privy to the snake's ears.. Omi hadn't a single clue about the man's capabilities, save he was indeed a strong combatant. This may sound unfortunate for the man in red. The less you know about your enemy, the worse off you tend to be, no?

But, there was a reason one of the many nicknames that popped up for Barsait was "strategist." For he understood a fundamental truth few did: sometimes, ignorance is not a weakness but an asset. It allows you to view a situation with a fresh perspective not tainted by prior information, and sometimes.. can even yield surprising advantages.

Originally, Omi was intent on eating - quite literally -- that projected uppercut. He was going to take it in full, to nefarious intentions.

However, indeed of a prize fighter's experience, he had never once stopped eying Tres for any sudden changes even with the oncoming blow ahead. So in that split moment... the serpentine artist had caught a glimpse of an eerie emerald glow. Entirely unbeknownst of what it would form ahead, Omi made a rash assumption and acted on it without hesitation. [A projectile.]

Tres had telephoned a melee strike, then intended to put Barsait down with some kind of eerie ranged attack. A nice attempt that might have downed a weaker opponent, but there was a reason for the serpent's square fixture and it was not bravado.

The man's true nature showed in a flash. Barsait's right foot, boot tip first, swerved counterclockwise just ahead of his left shifting even more counterclockwise, locking them in a "cross" and violently rotating his upper torso as a result. It was all he could do at the end, lowering his stature further to help balance himself on that left heel, that caused .. something else to be pierced by this bizarre stone weapon.

For an instant, time felt still. Barsait had displayed an impressive feat of agility. And the unnatural weapon "Ogranix" had indeed sang home.. deep into his right snake pauldron. Liquids of the flame-shower weapon mixed with droplets of blood surged down the emerald material, double helixes of red. The open "mouth" of the shoulder pauldron had given just enough leeway as the short-sword tore it open further, to allow full entry. Unfortunately, the inner mechanisms, the "cup of Hellwater," and various gears inside the pauldron were destroyed- metal crunching around Barsait's right shoulder pauldron's gaps and scraping his shoulder flesh violently in a large patch. Indeed, the non-bloody liquids were rendered useless, incapable of being put through the much needed chemical reaction to ignite.

However.. the psion would, before no doubt adjusting himself.. notice over that ghastly mixture of his own blade green and the slain hydra head, a disturbing sight. It was Omi's face once more. Only now, lit up with an outright horrifying level of energy and malicious glee.

This had been unexpected. Not unpleasant.

Right hand. Due to his shoulder's posture, Omi's right forearm was forced along his own gut horizontally. Rather incapable of counter-assaulting Tres in this position without some sporting maneuvering, ... except. It did give an extremely easy opening to grasp an object. Namely, the handle of his never before seen weapon, the [Scales of Ignus.]

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Scales of Ignus Wrote:

(Right Hand Weapon / Dagger) [Scales of Ignus]

"No one can stop this piercing weapon!"

This is a lengthy variant of a Rondel dagger, a middle ages side-arm, with menacing modifications. The blade contains tungsten, vanadium, and traces of carbon nano-tubes -- keeping a sharp edge but is exceptional at its malleable quality, making repeated use against opponents undoubtedly wielding weapons and sealed into armor less of a concern.

Used remarkably like a modern day ice pick, its puncturing capabilities through enemy armor can be quite monstrous if able to thrust in with maximum force, while if similarly able to pierce into an opponent's bone, could shatter it. It is an extremely precise weapon, designed to erupt into an opponent's defenses and body with accuracy so as to yield maximum benefit once Omi is in position, without worrying about lethal repercussions so long as used with care.

The handle and sharp-curved pommel, normally small and designed for one handed use with a weapon like this, is elongated with dark black straps of cloth & rubber laid over an African Blackwood spacer for better grip and weight optimization. "Round" is the theme here. Even the hand guard separating the hand from this weapon's blade is a small, round plate. The length of the shaft sits at 6" for comfortable grip in one hand. Furthermore, at his left hip under his trademark coat, hangs a black leather sheath housing this weapon for Omi's right hand to seize.

A menacing aspect of this weapon is its lenticular (or lens) shaped 16" blade. On the flat sides running from the hand-guard up to the 9" mark of the blade furthermore, are three vertical lines of razor sharp alligator blades - very tiny, spaced out triangular and jagged edges designed for maximum tearing and surface area abuse. This reduces the effective puncturing ability of the weapon, at max, to 5" -- which is still very potent, especially in non-lethal circumstances.

With a decent weight to the pommel tip to minimize how top heavy the weapon is and therefore making this slightly heavier than others of its kind, it is still a very flighty weapon with surprising reach, and if left unchecked, will undoubtedly draw blood to stain its already fierce and dark red exterior.

[Statistics]:

Width at hilt: 1.28"

Width 1" from tip: 0.205"

Pommel to Hand-guard Length: 6"

Blade Length: 16"

Overall Length: 22"

Alligator Teeth Height: 0.503"

Effective Alligator "Bite" Length: 9"

Effective Puncturing Depth: 5"

Overall Weight: 2.4 lbs

[Notes]:

Two sides cut, two sides tear, and the tip punctures hard. It's a painful weapon; however, it's badly designed for defense, and will not stop an opponent's oncoming weapon very effectively at all beyond parrying. It's unlikely the weapon will break without significant blunt force though that is very possible, but some weapons will simply slip past the dagger's bizarre design and potentially, towards Omi if he's not careful.

It's primarily an offensive monster, the edges having acceptable cutting power, the sides having teeth that'll tear skin open if catching any, the pommel able to smash someone over the head given the right situation, and the tip while purposely gimped of what it could puncture to, will still offer very impressive penetrating power with non-lethal purpose always kept in mind. That is... if Barsait's going for a nonlethal take-down.

Such dedication..

Barsait had little time to respect it fully but, he had to acknowledge this man was no mere surfer on the waves of adoration. In scant seconds that did not award the conscious mind time to formulate a plan, Tres had instinctively with the experience of a true warrior, responded admirably. Slightly jarring, was Omi "off" about what he had perceived of this pompous man after all..?

The crowd began again.

"TRES, TRES, TRES"

"TRES! TRES! TRES!"

Stomp stomp stomp. The rafters were being kicked to rubble.

Tres had made an equally wise and foolish decision. Why strike the hydra heads when you can decimate the body, after all? Yet.. in not dealing directly with the snakes and instead, playing the devil's gamble with their guiding hand, an unfortunate set of circumstances would follow.

"TRES! TRES! TRESSSS! TRES!"

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Quote:** Wrote:

(Gauntlets) [Teeth of Ignus]

Gauntlets stretching from his forearms to right above his fingertips, extremely narrow but open tips in each. Tungsten alloyed with steel like most of his equipment, there are chain links in the interior woven to provide more flexibility, the insides wrapped in a soft silk to grip Barsait's hands in a comfortable but firm fashion. There's knuckle reinforcement in the form of small, rounded beads -- dark metal exterior with etched in dark red flame symbols rounding out their appearance.

They have powerful synergy with the [Holocaust Bracers] (as detailed below), and the empty tips allow his snakes to formulate from the pores of his skin flesh. Furthermore, the palms of each have textures that allow for very good gripping strength, at the cost of being easily punctured by sharp weaponry. These monstrous gauntlet "fangs" dance in the opponent's demise, time after time.

Icarus merely hadn't flown close enough.

The difference between a normal man, and a war against Barsait, was that he did not plan one or two, nor ten actions ahead. He planned for 100 constituencies, all absurd and rational at the same time, misleading many into thinking him mad. His was not just one threat towards Tres, or two. But if the psion could feel imminent danger, that feeling! It would never fade! For Barsait's life, was an infinite chain of dangers to all gods, even one small in stature as he.

That damning "crystal" flew into Omi's incoming dagger, blasting it away from the center of Tresondros' eye realm..

...but, Exstuffuan's smirk would be short lived.

Quote:** Wrote:

A menacing aspect of this weapon is its lenticular (or lens) shaped 16" blade. On the flat sides running from the hand-guard up to the 9" mark of the blade furthermore, are three vertical lines of razor sharp alligator blades - very tiny, spaced out triangular and jagged edges designed for maximum tearing and surface area abuse. This reduces the effective puncturing ability of the weapon, at max, to 5" -- which is still very potent, especially in non-lethal circumstances.

...had Tresondros aimed the crystal more, honed it directly into Barsait's serpent head, this could have been avoided. Instead, the psion grew arrogant in his preparedness. It would cost him greatly.

Though the crystal succeeded in blasting the dagger off-route with powerful force, the "line" tied to Barsait, his snake, jerked with it. It did not release the dagger, though said scales were forcdibly jerked into a different position.. namely, instead of "dead on," rotated from noon to 7o'clock in the serpent's mouth.

Omi responded in that instant of the lone snake being blasted along by its load, tip of his tongue bashing against the interior of his right cheek, lower towards his bottom gums. The motion was not unlike a strange left hook

SLKRKKTTT

... though Tres had admirably done what few men could have, escaping blindness and quite probable death with ease, his own confidence had blinded him more than Barsait could ever have been capable of. Though the dagger's horrific tip was completely changed in direction, and this would indeed stop the immediate threat of Tres being punctured.. he had forgotten two things. One, those terrible "scales," and two.. the possibility of that damnable snake altering the course of its projection, albeit slightly, before his majestic left fist could take flight. Put simply, where Tres tried to send the dagger flying to his left, Barsait had forcibly swung the weapon to his left instead, practically whipping the poor entity.

It was enough. The alligator teeth would, narrowly though as much as needed, scrape past Tresondros' right face just before it flew past. The "teeth" were simply wicked, designed to grate right through flesh without a single hesitation. The psion's eyelid, eye flesh, and brow.. they were the victims here.

Rend upward by cruel metal.

Even had it only hooked the "champion's" flesh above the eye, it would have blinded for quite some time, reducing Ecstuffuan's ability to see with a potent combination of blood and sweat. But this of course, was far worse. The skin was ripped upwards, the brow split vertically if closed at the time of impact, and nearly ripped off if open wide. As for the eye itself, though only the crest of it was torn asunder by a single "tooth" of metal... that was more than enough to render it dead.

[The snake had eaten Tresondros' right eye.]

A shame Barsait couldn't relay at the moment, for with a little better positioning and time, he could have stolen his opponent's ear as well. Instead, the [Scales of Ignus], now bloody, made their crash course to the grounds beyond, rattling loudly as the snake itself died on impact and faded away.

Assuming Tresondros still threw his mighty fist, and no doubt he would for men like they would swim through any pain to deliver ten fold to their opponent, Barsait would have one final moment of awe-inspiring stillness. To obtain his "goal," blinding Tresondros, he had to "pay:" in blood. So if he was going to pay... he would make it the greatest trade available.

His feet. Nothing was engaging his lower torso, and the man took advantage of this by disengaging his natural desire to stay balanced, flinging himself back just as the weapon sung home. This... and yet further, he bowed his head.

BANG

Omi Barsait's entire form, coupled with only one minor resistance at the final impact, was batted across the ring. He did not merely slide backwards, but was propelled 5' away from Tresondros, backside first. Hopelessly separated from his dagger, snakes destroyed, felled, and Tresondros standing, the crowd would no doubt view this as the red lord's loss at first hopeful sight. No doubt, the crowd was pleased, yelling their champion's name.

Tres had a front row see to see the effects of his weapon, however.

There, on his elbows... was a ghastly sight. The truth was, at that decisive moment, Barsait had chosen to do something most baffling. He .... had of all things, headbutt the very harbinger of death, the mace itself with his own precious skull. By doing what he had, the hardest part of his skull had taken the brunt of the attack, and then some of the force was diffused as he left the ground and fell backwards intentionally, then unintentionally further.

Blood was gushing down Barsait's face, crest of the skull on down. His nose. His lips. His chin. The source was higher up, cracked open and bleeding furiously. Patches of skin were grated clean off him.. and yet.. the man was conscious, even if everything felt light to him. That much was evident by how Barsait grinned triumphantly at Tresondros from his floored position, red dripping to the floor and all.

No.. he wasn't even grinning. It began to come up over the crowd's noise, what it truly was. He was laughing at Ecstuffuan.

"HnhnHNHN, good! GOOD!" Mocking, self-pleased laughter. His eyes, his expression, his body language as that left ruined gauntlet, blood dripping out of the right thumb's narrow tip, began to casually hit a switch beneath his lower-back - it was the most horrifying level of satisfaction one could bare witness to, especially from a man struck so hard they couldn't right yet stand.

As a sudden and vast red smoke enveloped the downed fighter and swallowed the entirety of their metal cage, could the no doubt advancing Tresondros see the problem in the mist ocean before him? See.. the danger? Would he shy away, or would he immediately give Barsait chase?

Or would he feel an overwhelming level of danger?

Quote:** Wrote:

(Smoke Bomb) [Exsanguination Bomb]

Only one use per fight.

Barsait's horrific trump card. Hanging against the back of his belt's draw beneath that vibrant red coat, it takes the appearance of a small, dark gray metal sphere with a red button lodged 1.5" beneath the surface level of the rest of the object. Digging Omi's thumb tip into it then casting it onto the floor, it erupts open, foul mist dumping into the air rapidly and omnidirectional.

This mist will take up a 20 foot diameter with wherever the bomb began to emit its smoke as its center, rising [and if applicable] descending the same number of feet as well. For [3 posts], this area will remain filled with the crimson mist, of which a number of interesting mechanics will come into play.

Mechanic [1]: All of Omi's snakes will be completely invisible to the naked eye within these mists. The snake's color and this mist's own are one and the same; they will literally be indiscernible. This does not just affect the opponent, but Omi too -- relying on guiding his serpents by vision and careful manipulation, he will not be able to see the snakes either.

Mechanic [2]: When a snake lights aflame, it will be even more visible than normal to both parties, the embers appearing a vibrant mixture of yellow and crimson red in this field.

Mechanic [3]: Assuming an opponent is at one edge of the field, at less than 5' distance, objects besides the serpents will be entirely normal in vision, not obscured at all. At 5' distance, detail will distort, relying more on color contrast against the field of red - and of course, anything red will be harder to make out, including Omi in his regular attire. At 10' distance, all one will be able to make out is a dark shadowy outline. At 20' distance (if both fighters were on opposing sides of this field), there will be no sight at all, and where the enemy is in relation to oneself would be purely a guessing game.. unless one walked around the field, or through it to find out.

Mechanic [4]: Omi has no manner of visionary advantage in the field. His [Eyes of Ignus] and their heat seeking function cannot find the snakes, as until they're in flames, they hold no heat -- meanwhile, his [Knavish Eye] ability is rendered entirely useless while in or looking at the field, as all he would be able to see is a wave of red with no contrast or detail.

Mechanic [5]: Assuming an opponent could yield an object or essence literally the exact same hue, shade, etc. as Omi's snakes (likely through supernatural means), that too would appear invisible to both parties while within the field. Furthermore, a strong gale (therefore, powerful wind generators of some type) could part this field, although only in 1/4ths (effectively 5' diameter) of the field at a time.

[Notes]:

This turns the fight into one of situational awareness. Omi will attempt to launch a snake at an opponent, that opponent'll move.. and now they're playing a guessing game of death. Or maybe Omi'll deploy this and then start moving backwards to make a ranged opponent's life hell for a few while buying himself time. Vice-versa, maybe this will be used as a gap closer.

It nulls parts of Omi's kit, and makes him have to constantly second-guess his own actions, but in exchange -- it rewards expecting the unexpected and grants potentially fight changing results to either side.

Serpentine Condition Wrote:

[Tongue]

[I] Upper-Mid Back Serpent: Having accomplished its goal, even if in a round-about manner and not to the degree it desired, the snake was annihilated upon impact with the floor thanks to its metal payload. (Terminated..)

[Right Hand]

[I] Thumb Serpent: Forming.

[I] Index Finger Serpent: Forming.

[I] Middle Finger Serpent: Forming.

[I] Ring Finger Serpent: Forming.

[I] Small Finger Serpent: Forming.

[The Mist Filled Ring]

Red doused in red. Barsait continued chortling, though it began to grow fainter with every passing heartbeat. Yes.. now that he was out of his opponent's vision, the man's expression relaxed considerably at an alarmingly quick pace. Whether this was an act, the laughter before a show, or both was really beyond an observation's power now, especially with all this poor visibility.

"..mmm. You're trickier than I thought, Mr. Ecstuffuan. A little slower on my end and my skull would be in fragments- no.. in fact, your danger is that you aren't deceptive. Even your sleight of hand with that gem was simplistic enough, it's the fact you can dish out that much pain. One mistake.. one failure, and down your foe goes.." Mused within the head of this seemingly downed warrior, taking a long, deep inhale through his nostrils. Trained to no doubt, calming him considerably.

Blood slid down into Barsait's mouth, which the warrior seemed to only lap up with his tongue showing little care.

This was Tenant I of victory: the most frightening man isn't he who is more skilled. Or more powerful. Faster. Smarter. It's the one who is willing to sacrifice anything to win, that is truly fearsome. Omi had taken his foe's eye-- and soon.. the artist would not mind giving every bone, every gnarled limb he had. No, Tresondros could have them all. In exchange, for victory, Barsait only requested one thing in return.

Tresondros' life.

CRRRRRKKKkkkakrkrkrkrkrk snapped Omi's neck, as he shifted onto his left hip and began to maneuver across the platform. Well, he didn't necessarily want to murder that man.. no, crawling at increasing speed west, low to the fighting ring's floor, the red mercenary would content himself with breaking his pride. That was close enough to murder. He considered it a kindness, breaking this proud opponent down-- how else could they grow proper, than if not from their own ashes?

Wry right fingers grasped violently the left snake pauldron. Off it came, ripped from its housing seat on Omi's lone shoulder.

In, his nefarious right gauntlet slid, sinking into the massive snake head comfortably.

[click]

...and entirely still did the man's body become. Omi, now closer to the mid-western edge of the ring, stopped within the red mist entirely. Motion ceased, his sharp left gauntlet fingers facing up at the ceiling as though ready to pierce something. All the while, Barsait sipping in air silently, recovering his stamina.

And then, a nightmare brewed.

His left fingers pointed towards the vague direction north that Tresondros had flown . . . . .

Quiet as the coming'o death, that man's entire right gauntlet suddenly flew off his hand. Along with that disturbing snake pauldron, both in tow. Literally noiseless, they stopped for a second ahead of his naked right palm.. and then off they went. Rapid.

The smile that spread across Omi's face, coupled with his shaking right eye who began to grow more red than his own shed blood - made all the "noise" needed: blood thickening upon the mat below as the words mentally rang out for the world to feel: "It's time Tresondros, to have some real fun.. time to become the legend you so desire!"

Serpentine Condition Wrote:

[Gauntlet Missile] -- [Right Hand]

Hitching his right gauntlet into the mouth of Omi's left sided, intact shoulder pauldron created was itself a terrible thing. However, now that his right hand's snakes have wedged themselves into the fingertips of said gauntlet, the entire metallic mass has became Barsait's impossibly long right hand; his agent of justice, off to execute poor Tresondros.

[*] As flexible as Omi's own right hand, for it is guided via it. Every motion Omi's right hand makes, this metallic missile also mimics. In ways, even more flexible than Barsait's true human hand, for with a quick spin of his tongue, the Missile can spin at impossible angles.

[*] Has, as with all of Omi's serpents, a theoretically infinite reach.

[*] Silent.

[*] Able to "see" via the ring finger's projected [Knavish Eye].

[*] Can drill its needle sharp gauntlet tips into an opponent's flesh, gnash its massive pauldron fangs into their bone to break it apart, or of course, propel [Hell's Water] scolding oil onto an opponent at quite a distance prior to any of the above. This is all factored before..

[*] There are five snakes propelling this gauntlet mass, each a 'finger' and more protected than normal from damage thanks to being housed in two pieces of armor. They can of course ignite, causing this Missile to at anytime become a super heated metallic death brand.

Psychic Overload