He hadn't been sure just how much of a grip she would've kept on her staff as he pinned it down against the floor, her strength not enough in the end as it slipped free from her grasp and was now weaponless for the time being. Seeing a opening, his elbow came centimeters toward her until his brows arched for a split second as she braced both her hands against his attack. There was a resistance at first, but Corrinne then quickly flowed and maneuvered with the direction of his blow. Quite strategic of her since their builds and weight were obviously different and she had been well aware of it just now. With the Zerox, it would've been more relentless and actually ram it's power against Satoru's. Maybe it was a pride or ego sort of thing with males. A small smile then came over his face, wondering what the red head would do next in either pulling herself out of this close range or attempt to fight and push him away. What she did next, he hadn't expected and was actually caught a little off guard.
One of her hands came at his face in a closed fist, managing to arch his neck and head to the side and avoid the punch. That had been close and Yamada wasn't wearing his head gear to protect him either. In truth, he saw no need for it during the tournament. While it wasn't A.I.'s he was up against, someone probably had the power to break his helm, but that was just another reason to not wear it in risking damage before even going against Cores. She wasn't finished just yet though as she kept a hold at his elbow with her free arm and had began to pull on him. Eyes casting downward, he saw her incoming knee that was no doubt intended to hit him in the stomach. She still had a hold of one of his arms, but his free one was able to come in and catch her the base of her knee in his palm before it made contact with his body. Both were now in odd, if not possibly awkward positions thanks to their blocking of each other's attacks. Staying still for just a little bit longer, he yanked his elbow free from Corrinne's hold while keeping his hand on her knee in wrapping his fingers around it this time. As he was pulling his elbow back, one of his feet came sweeping at her ankles. If she somehow dodged this while standing one one foot, Satoru would most definitely be impressed. If she were to fall however, her torso would meet with one of his fists.
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Line Count: 616
{OOC: Lol yeah couldn't tell if they were blue or green so decided they were both! And oops, thanks for pointing that out. Getting ahead of myself X3}
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B.A.I.T.R Standing: 32 Health: 340/340 Control Limit: 252
Skill: 21 [22] Strength: 21 [21] Defense: 21 [21]
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Tactical Advantages
Commander - Level 1 - You command the battlefield with superior strategy and intellect, giving your allies an edge in combat. Anyone fighting alongside you gains +5 Defense.
peskyraven
Brotherhood Of Explosives rolled 1 100-sided dice:
3Total: 3 (1-100)
Posted: Wed Jan 06, 2016 11:46 am
Dal'Mori Cestrol Menne
He would entitle it "Dal'Mori's Great Food Adventure."
It would go down in history! It would be a legend! Children years from now would hear this story and learn a life lesson!
What was that life lesson?
Watch where you step.
It had started innocently enough, honestly. He had a weirdly fun time messing with the healer in the room, wondering on the off chance if this was due to his inability to mess with his own village healer. She was your basic definition of unshakable, and she strongly believed in an eye for an eye, sometimes literally. Dal'Mori had punched one of her odd pieces of equipment, and she, in response, use an odd mix of herbs to make him blind for a few hours.
However, his body was finally starting to show signs of wear and tear, and he wanted to be in top form for his fight in the finals. He didn't understand a lot about this world around him, but a good competition he could always grasp. It was better than that though, it wasn't some weird place where the goal was to show off this incredible magic everyone seemed to just inherently understand, it was just a fight to see who was the best. He liked those, even when the few people he could never beat joined.
So! He decided to go off in search of food. Once more he found he wasn't sure what he was going to find. This place was full of mysteries and magic, so much so that he wasn't even honestly sure if they were real or not, he wondered, briefly, if this was some weird world the he got absorbed into or something with their strange magics when they knock him out.
He didn't ponder on it for too long, given that he knew Baiters, some even personally when they stopped by and decided to try and train Dal'Mori when he expressed enough interest.
He started off down a random hallway, wondering to himself if he should invest in finding some means of actively navigating these halls, he didn't want to have to impose on someone else just to find his way around. As he was walking down said hallway, is where our story truly begins:
He was walking down the hallway in a very calm and casual manner, totally aware of the fact that he had no idea where he was actually going, He was fairly proud of himself actually! He had managed to walk several meters without anything happening! So why was there this weird feeling of dread filling his gut?
It happened suddenly, but once it happened the action took forever, as if time sped up for that one second, only to slow down to a snail’s pace right after. He slipped, his feet falling right out of underneath him, apparently on some water that was draining out from under a door with some weird finger with a ball on top, and four branches sticking out, two on each side.
He had enough time to look at the ceiling, and once again curse this terrible, terrible curse that befell his life.
A dull thud later, and Dal'Mori found himself staring upwards, listening to some quiet snickering, before someone seemed to take pity on him and step forward to help him up. He managed to stammer out an apology, and requested directions to the food court.
Luck was on his side! The 'Mess Hall' or whatever the man had called it, was just down the hallway he was in!
It couldn't have been simpler! It couldn't have been easier!
He never regretted those words more in his life.
It took him almost triple what it took an ordinary person to get down the hallway. Not because he was slow, but because he was just that... Unlucky.
Every step seemed like the wrong step.
Step to the right? He got hit with a door.
Move to the left? Someone chose that moment to turn around with a volatile looking bottle. The burns on his hand still hurt as they healed.
Step around that mess? He spilled some dark brown liquid all over the front of some woman who now looked angry at him, who had a little fish looking thing on her jacket, it appeared to be a very light red in color.
He took another step, just one, attempting to move around her, while making placating hand gestures? He knocks all the papers and folders out of the hands of the young man who came up behind him, he had stunning blue eyes and a small hair issue apparently.
After bending down to help out the guy he knocked askew, he took a step back as he rose to his feet. A massive CLANG rang about as he knocked his head on some kind of tray that a young lady with brown hair was holding.
This series of events happened within a short period of time, and the weird thing about it? There was only so much going on in this hallway, and he managed to muck it all up with just a few steps.
Moral of the story? Watch where you step.
The rest of his journey towards food was rather uneventful, he managed to get all the way to the area food was given away. Upon arrival he was met with a few scents, apparently not many people were eating right at the moment. Either way, what he found most interesting was the completely lack of anything that even resembled food.
There were no bowls, no plates. Nothing.
People were still eating, granted it was things he didn't recognize, some of them even smelled positively rancid to his nose, making him wonder how they ate it. Despite this, there was nothing around the indicated that anything dispensed food. His eyes darted from corner to corner, surface to surface. Had he missed it? The food seemed hot still, leading him to imagine if he missed it, he missed it by a scant few moments.
How did he miss food being moved around?
Seemed like something that he couldn't understand. It had to have been there, but it was not anymore. People had food. It had to have been there recently, but it was not anymore. People had hot food. He shrugged it off quickly, deciding a few things in that moment. They had to use one of the other doors, or magic. He was okay with both of those answers. The second was that he was late for a meal.
It would suck, going into his next fight hungry, but it was by far not the worst circumstance he had ever gone into battle under. He did use to live under a mountain after all. However, his next opponent would be the other strongest beginner. His last opponent had been tough, which meant his next one should be on equal grounds as him! He would need every bit of strength he got.
His stomach chose that moment to growl again, making its plight known.
He sighed, and made sure to make a mental note of finding out when he could actually eat. He had other things to worry about right now though.
He set off, retracing his steps from memory, as he attempted to get back where he was going. He found it was rather easy, there were weird strips of odd symbols that started to look familiar as he kept heading towards the arena. He had no idea what they said or meant, but he guessed that the frequency of this line of symbols tying in with the fact he was heading towards the training area, that these indicated the direction to the training room.
He tried to memorize what they looked like, but alongside all the other symbols and weird drawings, it was like trying to grasp smoke with your bare hands.
He was removed from his musings when he reached the training area, apparently having managed to reach the area with little issue. He ignored the looks at his back with a practiced ease, they were either shocked he didn't stumble over anything, or worried how he managed to not notice. Either way, it was no big deal.
They always looked.
As mentioned earlier, he had other things to worry about. Like some guy rushing over to him, and the news that apparently his fight was already on the way. At first he thought to himself that perhaps they had managed to get through two solid rounds of fighting while he was out getting his new weapons. Sure, it seems unlikely, but then again, it could happen.
However, when he found out that his opponent had simply bypassed the whole second round of fighting, being found sufficiently capable by some form of elder, Dal'Mori felt a spark of rage. Was he not strong enough? Did he not show enough skill? He fought his best in both his fights! He had earned his place in this final battle! This person just got to walk right into the ring with him without having to work for it?!
He felt as though he was being quite disrespected.
On top of that! His opponent wasn't anywhere near as tired as he was! Dal'Mori had just passed through two full fights, each lasting about as long as the other, and even though he only got damaged in the second one, fatigue was setting in. It seemed that even advanced healing couldn't completely negate the effects of the need to slumber.
So! Now he was going into a fight with a well-rested person, while he was hungry! He took a moment to breathe deeply, and shook off those thoughts. As he said to Acel earlier, going into a fight while thinking about failure could only bring about one result. Exactly what you were thinking about.
Self-fulfilling prophecy.
He strode into the room, exuding confidence his eyes searching out his opponent, and wondered if he would get to pick the fighting area three times in a row. It would be the least they could do, given the terrible circumstances they set against him, but if he didn't get it, he wouldn't be too upset.
He would show them he was worth their attention.
He would show them, no matter what they threw at him, he could persevere.
He wasn't weak!
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B.A.I.T.R Standing: 80 Health: 780/780 Control Limit: 648
Skill: 60 [--] Strength: 50 [60] Defence: 50 [--]
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Tactical Advantages
Power House - Level 4 - Every time you deal damage to a foe, they lose 8 Defense for the duration of the fight.
Ooc: This feels a little rushed, and I am sorry for that. There were... Complications. >.<
Corrinne caught a glimpse of the slight smile Satoru made at her defense. Did he appreciate her style of battle as well? It tickled her to think so; clearly both of them were enjoying this fight. Even though her heart raced from the fear of the unexpected.
As she expected, the closeness of this hand-to-hand combat was a risky move indeed. He had quickly dodged the punch to his face and caught the base of her knee in his hand. Corrinne quickly realized she was in a rather difficult position, her body left completely open for attack! Yet, he paused suddenly, which caused a great deal of chatter in Corrinne’s mind. The foremost thought being, ‘we’re so close! I could almost fall on him right now,’ her balance was unsteady and as she was left hanging in the air for his next move her body almost instinctively wanted to fall forward and maybe take him down with her. He seemed to realize the awkward positioning as well, till he began to motion with both hands toward her. Yanking his arm free from Corrinne’s clasp and gripping her knee with the other, Corrinne grew rather flushed by the animalistic sensation of having her knee touched in such a way. Again she was somewhat distracted by the tactile nature of the fight. She wasn’t used to people touching her and definitely not a handsome male. Corrinne preferred her distance but she had to admit that the closeness that this battle provided excited her.
With one sweeping motion, Corrinne caught out of the corner of her eye what Satoru was about to do but it was too late. Her grounded leg was kicked out from beneath her! She fell backward, her red bangs trailing in front of her face as she fell. She caught a glimpse of the sky, building, reminding her that they were in a tournament arena, even if their surroundings didn’t appear to be. Thud! Landing on her back, she winced, that was definitely going to bother her later. She hoped that wouldn’t cause any back problems, hopefully when they healed you after the fight they would also bring a chiropractor. Somehow she had managed to dodge the fist that had been deliberately placed beneath her, maybe in the way that she turned her body as she fell, like a cat struggling to balance itself in mid-air. She could see the shock on Satoru’s face as she used this opportunity to gain some distance between him and her.
Picking herself back up, she looked at him in surprise, the amount of different feelings she was having towards this person was so foreign to her. She didn’t know how to make heads or tales on how to proceed. For a moment, she looked passed him to her weapon lying in the grass. Should she try to get it back or continue with this hand-to-hand combat, he obviously had the advantage in it, weighing more and having a stronger upper build. She would need to train more to be proficient physically, though she was fast; she wasn’t by any means powerful. Corrinne contemplated on how she could use her speed to form an attack. Her eyes never leaving his as she concentrated. The piercing blue of his eyes captivated her but then her eyes traveled over him as she studied his stance. Was there a way to hit him? Or would they have to continue this battle of defense. Her body didn’t hurt, even though there were some close calls, there. She could continue with close combat even though she didn’t prefer it.
Asking for her weapon back was probably out of the question.
Finally she decided to continue their brawling, so far, no harm done but she knew that soon that would not be the case. One of them would slip up and so far her record wasn’t going so well. Running at him, she appeared to want to hit him straight on till she crouched down and used the force of her knees to hoist her outstretched arms towards him. Intending to knock him down to the ground and start wrestling him, she jabbed punches at him left and right.
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LINES: 706
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B.A.I.T.R Standing: 35 Health: 400/400 Control Limit: 280
Skill: 25 [25] Strength: 25 [26] Defence: 20 [21]
Quote:
Tactical Advantages
Sadist - Level 1 - When one of your attacks deals damage, you get +5 to your Strength. This bonus disappears if an opponent successfully blocks one of your attacks. Sadist does not stack with itself.
Quote:
A.I. Core
Reaper Crab
B.A.I.T.R Standing: 14 Health: 160/160
Skill: 5 Strength: 12 Defense: 10
Tactical Advantage:Sadist
Ippiki-Ookami RP
OOC: Corrinne's so cute xD And naive, oh well, that is the way she is written, that is the way she will behave.
STAND BY__________________________________________________________
- - -
As Akio spoke the words of surrender Faelan couldn't help but furrow his brows in anger. It wasn't that he blamed Akio for knowing his own limits, but the fight had knocked away many of the barriers holding back the ever burning rage. It rolled and seethed against the final barriers holding it back. The inner struggle became so intense that it physically manifested itself as a rather large headache that settled itself behind his eyes. Gritting his teeth Faelan suffered through the pain as he set about collecting all the discarded weapons on the training field. After gathering the main weapons Fae decided to simply leave all of the throwing knives. Fae could always make more when he needed then and it was too much of a hassle to walk around the entire field to collect them all. With a final sigh Fae left the training area and head back down to the lobby where everyone was watching the fights. Upon entering the lobby Fae had already taken off his mask and begun to search around for the Old Fox that had greeted him when he arrived. The Old man was tall and bulky, and there was already more white than black running through both his hair and beard. If it wasn't for the finely tailored suit and look of elegance one would more than likely mistake him for a Preacher. Now, however, he just seemed to look like an old mobster boss. The thing that made the Old Fox stand out the most was the ancient look in his eyes.
“Fae!” A sweet voice rung out in the lobby. The voice was familiar and young, but Faelan found the source instantly. It was a short brunette with a cheery smile who was still wearing the pink scrubs Faelan had seen her in earlier that day. “Noami!” Fae's voice was equally soft and a hint of affection leaked from behind the emotionless curtain. Faelan had spent three months in and out of consciousness within the Asian BAITR offices hospital. Naomi and four other women were tasked with his daily up keep and during his moments of consciousness Fae would often be pulled into their nonsensical conversations. So when Fae spotted Naomi a sense of happiness welled up within him. “The doctor sent me to give you your final gift!” Naomi stretched out her skinny arms to lift up the large pink gift bag she was holding in her hands. Fae accepted it without a second thought before pulling Naomi in for a tight hug.
After he letting go of Naomi she smiled and took off towards the exit with promises of watching the fight from the Asian office. With Naomi gone Fae returned to looking for the old man. The headache was slowly fading, but disaster was not yet fully averted. Quickly Fae found the old man made his way over intending to make good on the promise to backhand the man for his earlier prank, but as Fae drew closer two more figures were standing next to the man. One was a thin blood hair man who was just as well dressed as the old man. The other was an older man whom radiated power. Even the Old Fox seemed to have a look of respect upon his face when he spoke to the older man. However as Fae drew closer to the conversation the older man turned and gave him a rather mysterious smile and then left without further warning. The Old Fox turned and gave Faelan a cold smile.
“You played around with your opponent too much, but it's commendable that you did not wish to harm them too much. On that same note the man that was here, just a moment ago, brought you a gift! It's a weapon your ancestor used long ago.” As the Old Fox finished the young blond man stepped out from behind him and presented a long rectangular chunk of obsidian. The piece of metal was just shorter than a traditional katana and instead of being curved it was also straight. It was obviously not any of the traditional Japanese swords in which Faelan had grown accustomed too, but Faelan was still certain it was a sword if somewhat hidden. Looking closer upon the metal Fae noticed the small button upon the metal that appeared just below where the hilt seem connected with the sheath. “Chokuto.” It was less of a question and more of a statement, but the Old Fox nodded in agreement with the evaluation as if he was somewhat proud of the young man's insight. Faelan put down the pink gift bag and then took the sword in his hand holding it loosely by the hilt in attempt to judge the quality of the sword. Amazingly it was neither too light nor too heavy even within the sheath. It was just the right size and clearly much sturdier than it appeared. “A Mastercrafted weapon, at the very least.” Again it was more of a statement, but the Old Fox nodded once more in respect. “I will use it well.” A slight hint of seriousness and blood lust seeped into voice as a chilling light entered his eyes. The blond man made a quick step back and even the Old Fox seemed to put up his guard as the words escape the young man. It was not something either had expected. “Your next match has been moved up and you will be facing a Dal'Mori in the next match for the title of Champion.”
“En.” Fae gave a slight emotionless answer before picking the large gift bag back up and heading off into the nearest bathroom and locked the door behind him. First thing first was now getting rid of the useless rigging that was still clipped to his thighs. Once the leather straps were removed and tossed to the side Faelan removed the Code Core from its pouch and connected it to the Forge sheath. Then after sending his orders towards AI he began the ever tedious task of getting fully undressed. When Fae was finished neatly folding the various articles of clothing on the sink counter the AI finally relayed a mental message. 'It's finished, Master quality assured.' Faelan nodded his head in acknowledgment before turning to the sink to take note of his appearance. That was when it hit him. A stinging sensation rippled throughout his body. It stung as if a million needles had been pushed into his skin simultaneously. Sweat rolled from his forehead and Fae's breath become ragged. It wasn't long until his legs could no longer support his weight and Fae quickly fell upon the ground. His vision became blurred and soon his consciousness faded.
- - -
Eventually the annoying probing of his AI woke him from a deep slumber. It appeared that even its more aggressive attempts to enter his body had failed as Fae's body was actively rejecting the effects of the HALF. It was as if the there was a greater force within him trying to over power the AI. The power then weakened and the AI was once again allowed access to Fae's mind. Mentally confirming he was still well in control of his own body Fae began to take stock of the situation. A clear change could be felt within his body and even he couldn't help but feel slightly shocked as he continued to assess his current state. Filth covered most of his body as if it had been expelled from every pore, but underneath it he could clearly see his skin had gained a sort of new luster. Fae's bones and muscles were stronger, and his stature just slightly taller than before. The vast anger within him now seemed closer to his false soul. It had now consumed part of his core. Even though his features were still very much feminine they carried a new sort of luster to them. After the full once over Faelan began using the sink to wash the layer of filth from his body. It was a crude sort of shower, but in the end it still managed to do the job. After he felt his body was clean enough Fae finally checked the large pink gift bag Naomi had given him earlier. Within, as Fae had already suspected, was a change of clothing that befitted his new job title. The mischievous grin that Naomi had upon her face when she handed the gift bag over was too much like the one she sported when she, and the four other nurses, had taken their liberties as they were undressing and redressing him earlier that day. The thought of the incident alone made him cringe in response.
Almost a full hour had passed since Faelan had locked himself inside the woman's bathroom, and the time of his fight was almost upon him. During that time, however, his appearance had almost taken an entire one hundred and eighty degree turn. The small braids that had fallen just above his shoulders were tied back behind his head and the previously wild manner of his hair had been tamed and was pulled back into a loose bun. With up short strands of light brown hair could be seen mixed in with the white now. Another new change made to his body as he was unconscious. The mask was firmly placed upon his face, but the chilling look of death still somehow lingered within his eyes. The blood lust still rolled from him slowly like small waves within an ocean. The beast within the man had been altered as it no longer seemed as unnatural as before, but now Fae was able to hold a calm demeanor matching the bone chilling gaze held within his eyes. A level of emotional control he obviously hadn't possessed earlier. A gloved left hand rested atop the hilt of his new sword as he lazily moved from one hall to the next in search of the lobby. Scarlet was held in his right hand and the forge sheath was attached to his hip so he could still move about almost freely. The previous girlish outfit had been replaced with a military uniform that had luckily been tailored with Faelan's ever changing body in mind as it was only slightly off perfect. On either shoulder of the jacket a golden symbol stood out with the black cloth as a backdrop. On the left was the symbol that was also upon the earnings he now wore. It was the symbol for the Dreadwolf Project. While the other shoulder held the crest of the McBride family.
Upon entering the lobby it was clear that people felt unease when they looked upon Fae as many took a step back as he entered into the room. A slight escaped his lips from beneath the mask as he faked two quick coughs and attempted to steady the killing intent flowing from him. As it seemed, however, it was too early to do so as all the attempt did was make him appear more awkward than calm. Shrugging his shoulders Fae decided to let it drop and made his way over to where the Old Fox and the Young Blond were waiting. “Take care of these for me.” Without hesitation the Young Blond stepped forward and accepted Scarlet and the large pink gift bag within his hands. In total Fae was only wielding three weapons now. The short blade, the Chokuto, and the Okatana forge. There was no need for any more knives or Scarlet for that matter. After the unnecessary things were handed off Faelan made his way silently towards the elevator that would take him to the battleground once it was selected.
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OOC; Sorry this took so long to get up, I did not want to waist the previous post I was working on so I had to do a lot of edits and changes. I will also probably be editing my post format again soon. So keep on the lookout! :3
Quote:
B.A.I.T.R Standing: 82 Health: 800/800 Control Limit: 660
Skill: 55 [71] Strength: 55 [70] Defense: 55 [70]
Tactical Advantages
One Person Army:Level 3 - You believe the only benefit of the A.I. Cores is to supplement your body with additional power. You abhor summoning their physical forms. While fighting without summoning an A.I. Core, you gain an additional +15 to all stats. However, if you do summon an A.I. core, you will receive a -30 to all stats instead.
Upon stepping into the elevator a Fae heard the faint ding as the elevator doors closed. When the doors closed a transparent screen appeared in front of his eyes. A hint of surprised touched his mind but was quickly pushed down. Using his free left hand Fae reached up and scrolled through the various amounts of pictures that had appeared before him on the screen. After a few minutes of scrolling Fae's eyes widened with anticipation. After highlighting his selection the elevator quickly began to move. It didn't take long before doors opened in front of him revealing a long brick hallway. Moving slowly Fae took in surroundings with a strange light in his eyes. The walls were old brick, very old, but had once been very well maintained and even repaired. Now, however, the bricks were now covered in vines and showing signs of extreme degradation. Still it seemed that the hallway that Fae was currently walking down was still intact. It had been very well built, it seemed. After a few moments of walking a feint light entered the end of the hall.
After stepping through the archway and into the next room the change in air was obvious. The room was large and an ancient smell hung in the air. It was stale, but hints of iron from years of bloodshed could still be detected. It was a large gladiator like arena made to look like the roman Colosseum. The sandy floor had sprouts of weeds and the walls that would normally surround the fighters pit had mostly cracked or fallen down to reveal the prison like rooms inside. A clear smile on his pink pale lips could be barely seen from the small part in his mask that allowed him to breath beneath the onyx face covering. “I apologize for the unorthodox manner in which this fight was set up, but I will not further insult you.” Fae gave a slight sigh. The man whom he was facing was not an untrained fighter, but a seasoned warrior. With a quick and graceful movement Fae detached the Okatana forge and with a quick flick of the wrist he sent the sheath into the ground. Cracks quickly appeared in the ground as half of the sheath sunk quickly into the ground.
With his trump card firmly rooted into the ground and carefully guarded by he AI within his core it was time to officially start the fight. Faelan leaned forward pushed off the ground. Cracks appeared where his feet once were and within a few breaths he arrived within striking distance of Dal'Mori. Without a pause Faelan leaned down and sent a palm into the ground shifting his weight so that his legs swung around aiming to collide with his opponents legs. Faelan expected his opponent to dodge and so the next attack was already planned. Once he had spun a fully circle he would plant his feet on the ground once more and launching himself into the air both legs aiming airborne body towards his opponent. Faelan would tuck and rotate in the air while extending a leg out and carefully aiming it at the top of Dal'mori's head. A strange gleam radiated from Fae's eyes. His body had just changed and already he could feel the difference. The sore muscles still burned, but the rush of adrenaline of the fight was enough to keep him going for a while.
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B.A.I.T.R Standing: 82 Health: 800/800 Control Limit: 660
Skill: 55 [71] Strength: 55 [70] Defense: 55 [70]
Tactical Advantages
One Person Army:Level 3 - You believe the only benefit of the A.I. Cores is to supplement your body with additional power. You abhor summoning their physical forms. While fighting without summoning an A.I. Core, you gain an additional +15 to all stats. However, if you do summon an A.I. core, you will receive a -30 to all stats instead.
He felt his opponent before he saw them, a sort of ding in the back of his head, like a sharp whistle or a loud yell, drawing his attention to someone who seemed to want to have all eyes on them. At first he wasn't sure who it was he was looking at, but he could tell one thing about them.
They wanted eyes on them.
They wanted people to notice them walking around. It was that, or they had seriously poor control over themselves if they let their thirst for battle saturate so much of the area. Judging by the way she seemed to hold herself, he doubted it was a poor level of control. Clearly this person wanted eyes on them, wanted people to know they were powerful, wanted people to know they were special.
It was about then that he realized who exactly that was and he ruthlessly crushed those thoughts. That was his soon to be opponent, and it would do no good to let the man get into his head before the fight even began. He might have been a little irked at the idea that this person hadn't honestly earned their place against him, but he would fight them like he had every opponent beforehand.
With everything he had, and without mercy.
He took some meditative breaths as he moved towards the entrance into the combat arena, readying himself for what should no doubt be a hard fight. He wished he could have gotten a moment to speak to his opponent before the fight began, because his upbringing was practically yelling at him to go about starting the fight in the way he was used too.
This was going to be a hard place to get use too. Dishonoring the fighters by allowing them to pass? It was insulting, not to just the person they were getting passed too, but to the person getting the pass. They didn't get the chance to test themselves. Now, on top of that, they didn't even do pre-fight niceties? A small exchange of words or something to indicate that it was all in good natured fun?
He shook his head, wondering how they could have a workable military system if this was how they interacted among themselves.
As he entered into the arena choice he felt himself feel... Small? He wasn't sure. The structure was massive, aged obviously, but enormous in stature. He smelled dust mostly, but there was something else on the air, something he couldn't quite identify, something old and timeless.
Then the wind blew.
It ghosted around them like the gentle breath of a giant, but that wasn't what drew his attention. He heard something, a distant sound, something long ago forgotten by the area, but still has a lingering mark.
It was like cheering. It wasn't loud enough to seriously be heard, honestly it was probably more of a ghost of a sound. The cheer of the crowd, the roars of approval, the boos of distaste. He felt like he could understand what this place was for, as he stood there looking out into the stands, as if awe struck by the feeling he was imagining. The feeling of hundreds of people accepting him, cheering him forward.
It was something he could get use too if he was being honest with himself.
'Watch out.'
The whisper was sudden, and of a voice he did not recognize, so he couldn't even guess at who it was. However, that was not the important part, the important part was that apparently they had started fighting, and his opponent was in his personal space, attacking without preamble.
So surprised was he by the lack of etiquette, that the initial attack landed firmly, taking his legs right out from underneath him. Instead of laying him flat though, he tucked into the fall, turning it into a roll, before suddenly shooting up to his feet once he rolled far enough to one side.
He made no aggressive action immediately, instead he calmly rose to his feet and dusted off his pants. Once he was satisfied, he turned his steely gaze towards his opponent. "It's bad form to attack a friendly opponent without introducing yourself." His words were spoke calmly, but they had that air of condescension to them, as though he were talking to a child that had made a big mistake.
He, in an overly exaggerated fashion, slowly drew his new short sword from its sheath. He shifted into a basic stance, which would naturally change to better suit the fight as needed. He ignored the spike of pain from his leg, as he did this, apparently the blow from earlier had landed a lot more solidly than he had figured.
"I am Dal'Mori. Best wishes."
He shot forward at the end of those words, he didn't offer the man the usual word of engagement, didn't offer any kind of kindness, nor did he care. He offered a wish of luck, and then decided to move on. He didn't feel the need too. The woman had attacked an unaware opponent, in friendly combat. Unaware, Dal could forgive, but in friendly combat? There was simply something utterly wrong about doing such. It was almost like running in a race and being the one to say go.
His foot falls weren't as heavy as his opponents, but they damaged the ground as well as he pushed himself forward, his eyes glaring right at his opponents, in a very determined fashion. He would start off prodding, poking here and there to see the best points of assault, so to start it off he began with a simple feint.
This involved him swinging his sword diagonally from over his shoulder, intentionally designed to cause her to try and dodge the attack, then he would thrust the blade directly towards her center mass after pulling the weapon in with a snap of movement.
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B.A.I.T.R Standing: 80 Health: 580/780 Control Limit: 648
Skill: 60 [--] Strength: 50 [60] Defence: 50 [--]
Quote:
Tactical Advantages
Power House - Level 4 - Every time you deal damage to a foe, they lose 8 Defense for the duration of the fight.
Ooc: >.>
Line Count: 286
Genetic Genocide
Brotherhood Of Explosives Vice Captain
Mind-boggling Trickster
Offline
Genji Gincosu
Divine Phantom
Offline
Posted: Sat Jan 09, 2016 9:12 pm
It had not taken long to get here, even from across the world. Was it really that far? Future travel sure was easier expected, but she could never get past the staring. They watched her, and she sat there, orange visor and eyes forward. Did they think of her a freak for wearing her pain? Did they think her a fool? She could have asked for another form of travel and yet she took the public route. She half expected an attack on the train or on the way so she could show what she was made of, but they all got to where they needed to go and she sighed. She took a moment to compose herself, making her way into the building. When she arrived, she showed signs of her identification and waited. She sat, she rose when she had to and kept her eyes straight. It seemed others were doing their worst, a tournament and she had come at the end. "Oh?" She almost scoffed out. Was this what they did? Instead of protecting the world they had moments of sport? She watched, and she knew she could not easily take down any of them. She was at a very high disadvantage. They were stronger, but she wouldn't show it on her face. She simply watched, and waited. A good show was never something to miss out on. They all seemed strong, way stronger than she could ever imagine at this moment. Even if her first battle had been while she was asleep, she was not a fool. She had beat one of them, she had to beat the rest now. She could feel it, could feel how they would look down at her. Ew, deformed and weak. How can she protect anyone? She should've died like the rest of them! Foolish! Her mind played tricks on her and yet she shook her head, and the tears flew away. She was not a fan, but it wasn't like she could keep her act up forever. These beasts...Whatever they fought were strong, way stronger than some initiation core like she had fought. Of course, she heard a sense of snarling and scoffed. Lets not get snippy. I run this game, not you. She thought, the snarling going down in her visor. She looked to see if maybe she could do something else, get away and enjoy herself but she also felt compelled to watch. IF these were what they would one day be facing...She just didn't want to be alone. The ones below were struggling, but that was the way of any fight. These were not one sided fights. Are they generals? She wondered as she watched them in action. But I would have heard of them... She thought, logic flowing through her brain. She was trying, and simply hung over the rails. Whatever this was, it wasn't her area to be. Something like this took time, and right now she had all the time to analyze. One day this would be practical...One day.
ooc: School made this post take forever. Went back and recounted the words to see how much I actually have the right way. Will be doing this with all my posts. Sorry for all the quotes
Line count should be: 28
Stats
Code Cores
Code Core 1
The white visor is something that sticks into her eyes, acting like a full scale computer/information highway/general planner. The visor connects a full suit of armor that allows her to walk and move like normal, even if a bit unconventional. Her body is taken over by machines now. She is one with the things she must fight. Slypner's visor has become spiked on the outer rim, large fang like items pop up and down, also turning from green to a tan of orange. Tier: Standard Bonus: Single Stat - Strength - 20%
A.I. Core
B.A.I.T.R Standing: 14 Health: 140/140
Skill: 5 Strength: 13 Defense: 10
Tactical Advantage:Deleter
B.A.I.T.R Standing: 35 Health: 300/300 Control Limit: 280
Skill: 25 [26] Strength: 20 Defence: 25
Tactical Advantages
Deleter - Level 1 - Your final damage (after defense reductions) is increased by 5%.
When his first attack landed Fae was a bit surprised, but it quickly cleared as he realized his opponent was not paying as much attention as he should have. When his opponent spoke Fae listened, and as Fae listened he came to a very clear realization that his opponent was not much unlike himself. At least a very, very, long time ago, or so it seemed. Ever since he awoke only a few hours ago and found his body changed something new was burning inside him. A Roaring from within his soul. Even with his opponents chiding words Faelan did not bother to answer now, no, he would wait and feel out the flow of the battle first. After all Fae knew his opponent and that was half the battle. As he suspected the blade came quickly and the attack was both powerful and cunning. Fae's eyes glowed as he watched the blade make it's downward stroke, but it was the gleam in his opponents eyes that gave the full attack away. A calm look entered Fae's eyes and stayed there as he swiftly took a half step back and then turned his body to the side to allow the blade to stab past him with only a few centimeters to spare. When the attack was narrowly avoided Faelan did not move to draw his weapon instead he leaned back and pushed off the ground sending himself backwards and away from his opponent.
“Are we friends?” Fae's voice was soft and almost soothing. The question was simple. The answer, however, was seriously more complex. In terms of big picture they were of course allies, but Faelan had suffered much before under the guise of 'Family' and 'Friends'. Indignities Fae vowed he would no longer suffer. In the end though Fae was still suffering. It was not him who wanted to be part of the tournament after all. This was set in motion by powers he could not yet refuse, but Faelan would not forget their actions. They would soon get theirs, but first Faelan needed get to get stronger. Strong enough to protect what was his, and never suffer from injustice again. “I do not remember having a friend such as you, and I would remember. In my life I've had only three I have ever counted as friends, and the blood of each of them can be found on my hands.” A dark glow entered Fae's eyes as memories of each of his friend's pointless deaths entered his mind. “As for my name, I was born Faelan McBride.” A sigh escaped his lips before a hushed voice, only audible to his opponent, came out afterwards, Whether it was because of his opponents chastising tone, manner of fighting, or over all slightly naive Knight-like will, Faelan could not truly tell why he was speaking these words now. With all that he wanted to say now spoken Fae only shook his head in a displeased manner before bolting forward once again initiating combat.
Again Fae pushed all he had into moving tearing at the ground as he moved. As he reached striking distance once more he used his experienced control over his body and shifted his momentum while pushing off the ground so that he hopped towards Dal's off handside. Quickly Fae brought his right hand back and freed the short blade from it's leather sheath and changed directions once more aiming to cross in front of Dal'Mori with the tip of the blade now aimed to cut across his opponents chest. When his blade reached past Dal'Mori's chest Fae's would plant his foot into the ground halting his forward momentum. Pulling his right elbow back and rotating his hips away from his opponent Faelan would rotate his body so that his elbow would be sent backwards and into his opponent's chest.
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B.A.I.T.R Standing: 82 Health: 800/800 Control Limit: 660
Skill: 55 [71] Strength: 55 [70] Defense: 55 [70]
Tactical Advantages
One Person Army:Level 3 - You believe the only benefit of the A.I. Cores is to supplement your body with additional power. You abhor summoning their physical forms. While fighting without summoning an A.I. Core, you gain an additional +15 to all stats. However, if you do summon an A.I. core, you will receive a -30 to all stats instead.
As his attack was launched with the practiced precision of ages of practiced, tied in with the instinct born into inherent fighters, he spotted it for just a moment. As his opponent dodged the attack, with almost the same level of fluid grace, he realized two things. This was going to be a much harder fight, his other opponents had very little to no training, where this person knew what they were doing. This set his blood ablaze with the prospect of a decent challenge.
However, that was quickly snuffed out when he also realized something was still bothering him.
He turned his attention to his opponent as she stood a way away from him, his soft colored brown eyes, hard as stone, seeking out her own as she spoke. As his opponent spoke, words that almost made Dal'Mori's heart go out to the girl. Who could live a life with so few friends? Yes, technically speaking, he only had around three himself, but that was if you didn't count the sort of friendships he had had with his whole village. Thus, he was constantly surrounded by friendship and things along those lines.
To be devoid of that? He couldn't imagine what that must have done.
His head tilted slightly, when as she mentioned her name and then getting it replaced. Once more, he found himself at a loss for what to say in response to that. Who would give up their own name? A person’s name was one of the truest applications of love a parent could ever give their child. It would be that which they would be called from that moment forth, it would be who they were to other people, it would be the most defining mark of themselves for most of their life.
Something was still off.
Apparently his opponent was done talking, and moved in for the attack! He rushed forward, seemingly putting forth too much effort for such a nimble fighting style, which confused Dal'Mori. The person was obviously built for speed and accuracy, why were they throwing themselves into their attacks like some form of berserker?
It was then he spotted it, as he knocked aside her first attack with a casual ease, his eyes noting several of her muscle groups up close as his arm bracer knocked against the hilt of the weapon at the start of the slash, before he simply stepped backwards out of the range of the follow up.
From there he took a few more steps back, holding his free hand up in a fashion that suggested they wait a moment.
Without much fanfare he sheathed his weapon, his now free arm reaching to the spear on his back, grasping the so familiar staff of his weapon, reveling in the feeling of every groove just fitting into his hand. Sure, having some diversity was great, but nothing beat a weapon specifically designed for you.
"You're holding back."
The words were straight to the point, and left little room for misinterpretation.
That was what had been bothering him. His opponent was not fighting at full capacity, or at the very least not fighting the way their body was telling them too. Dal'Mori found this to be insulting, so much so he was starting to wonder if that was this one’s game. Sarah had been trying to make him think she was weak, so maybe she had some other method of altering his in battle opinion? Make him so frustrated with insults, he messed up?
He sighed as he realized he was thinking too much and took a deep breath, his body shifting into his most used fighting style, his body shifting into it like it was made for it, not a single muscle even so much as hinted at not wanting to fight like this.
"You can't win a fight if you are holding back."
He wasn't sure what it was that made him say what he said honestly, some part of him simply wanted to engage this person in conversation. Another part of him wanted him to recruit this one, as they might be useful for his plans later in life, and yet another part of him wanted to wipe the floor with her masked face, for even for a moment thinking Dal'Mori wasn't worth her full effort.
With that in mind, he shot forward. Within the first step or two, his body and mind made that connection, the one that made Dal'Mori one unique being on the battlefield, his body and mind working seamlessly together.
It was not that he moved towards her, it was more he simply floated towards her, with the way his body was moving. His weapon spun around once or twice, just to see if she even paid attention to the swirls of his weapon, he didn't imagine she would, given how trained she obviously was, but it couldn't hurt to try right?
As soon as he was in distance, he unleashed a flurry of attacks! Except, they weren't all attacks, in fact, most of them weren't. They were completely random, yet constant, barrier attacks. In essence, Dal'Mori was stabbing or swinging in such a fashion that it became clear he wasn't trying to hit her, but push her into just the right placement.
It took a little preparation, and a lot of effort, but with enough movement and the right strokes, he would finally shoot out towards just the right spot! It would be surprisingly direct, compared to the wild movements that could be best described as flailing with style that preceded it, but the butt end of his weapon would shoot out as if attempting to spike her in the middle of her chest.
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B.A.I.T.R Standing: 80 Health: 580/780 Control Limit: 648
Skill: 60 [--] Strength: 50 [60] Defence: 50 [--]
Quote:
Tactical Advantages
Power House - Level 4 - Every time you deal damage to a foe, they lose 8 Defense for the duration of the fight.
Ooc: You forgot to count your lines. No worries, I did the math, just letting you know.
Feel free to interrupt the assault if the attack misses, I just thought it would give some flair. ^-^
Faelan backed up a bit when his opponent singled for a moment of time. He wanted the fight over with as quickly as possible, but that didn't mean he was going to completely disregard his opponent in the process. The words that Dal'Mori spoke, however, made Fae's brow twitch in a bit of anger. Fae was holding back after all, but that was because there was no other option than to at the moment. The fighting style that Faelan cultivated for his body required a heavy instinct and large amounts of killing intent. It was not a style of thought or calculation. The style constantly evolved from one attack to the next flowing much like water through a river. A cold shine entered Faelan's eyes. If Dal'Mori wished to fight Faelan in full form, he would get exactly what he wished for, but he would have to wait for just a moment more. When Dal removed the spear from his back a thought appeared in Faelan's mind. The weapon was well suited for this man but it was still felt awkward. Then the image of an item entered his mind. Either way that was no longer time to think of the issue. Faelan drew his attention to his opponents shoulder, rather than the weapon, and then kept a close watch on it as his opponent moved forth.
A slight hidden smile touched Fae's lips beneath the mask as his opponent charged forth. When fighting someone with speed and agility it was best to never watch the attack but instead watch the shoulder and then anticipate. Still Faelan saw each attack and moved accordingly. A step back, a step to the side, a slight spin. These steps were both graceful and fluid, devoid of any wasted movement. It became less of an actual dodge and more of a dance between him and his opponent. Constantly Fae moved back and forth narrowly dodging each attack with the best move possible. Then the actual attack came; Faelan shifted his wait and stepped to the side while spinning forward. The graceful spin moved Faelan so that his back was now firmly against his opponents. “With the power and fluid movements you possess, a Polearm or Halberd would be a better fit.” With his thought out Faelan stepped forward and out of his opponents attack range.
“I am holding back, but I will not do so any longer.” A trial by fire. That's what this tournament really was. It was meant to test, gauge, weight a special select few recruits. The thought anger Faelan more than he could possibly imagine, but anger was the only emotion he had left within him. Without even the slightest bit of hesitation Fae's hand reached up and removed the black mask that covered his delicate features. Almost like a damn breaking a flood of killing intent floated from within him. Even the AI within him cringed in fear. The pressure that the best now exuded what even scarier that before. The AI was pressed down and halted; helpless to do anything other than hand its power over. Perhaps it would grow to hate Fae in the future because of these actions, but just as the thought entered Fae's mind it was swept away by the blood lust that swept through his own body like a tidal wave upon land. The change was smooth and instantaneous now. Which made it partially more frightening. Even more so when one realized that Faelan was only twenty. As he grew so too would this need for battle. Even now he was nothing more than a beast of war. The world around Fae calmed as his mind entered a sort of tranquil state. Sheathing the short sword back into its impromptu leather holster Fae's right hand moved to the rectangular hilt of the obsidian blade, while his left found the unlock button upon the sheath. A buzzing sound could be heard as the magnetic lock seemingly disengaged and the black blade was pulled free from the sheath.
A circular hole existed in the blade just after the hilt a series of circuitry-like lines extending from it. It was clear that something was supposed to be inserted there, but Faelan did not know what. The weirder part though, other than the fact that the single edge of the blade was white instead of black, was that the sword was much heavier than when it was within the sheath. Abut ten times heavier to be exact. Still the obsidian blade was thin and as Fae tested the balance it still worked rather with his nimble movements. Without pausing or issuing a formal greeting of actual war Faelan bolted forth with only the intention of ending his opponent now firmly rooted in his mind. Although the blade was different, being a straight blade instead of curved, it was still as single edged blade and so the Fae's method of fighting did not change. Arriving once again at once again at the Dal'Mori's side and then slashed upwards and outwards aiming to cut across his opponents body and knock the spear from his hands in the process. Even with the extra weight of the sword Faelan managed the attack one handed and when the strike would reach its peak his left hand would reach upwards and grip at the bottom of the hilt before shifting his shoulders and bringing the blade down and over. This strike would be even quicker than the first with the blade aimed to cut across Dal'Mori's neck. Faelan wasn't close enough to remove his opponent's head from his shoulders, but it would leave a nice clean cut across his throat. The fluid and deadly motions of each swift strike were the calling card of Faelan's fighting style. Only now with his full killing intent focused could he stop himself from holding back.
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OOC: Thanks! I was waaayyy too dead last night after I finished that. Also Flair approved!
Sorry this took so long, I was having trouble getting into the right headspace for this post. It might be a bit sloppy because of it. D;
Quote:
B.A.I.T.R Standing: 82 Health: 800/800 Control Limit: 660
Skill: 55 [71] Strength: 55 [70] Defense: 55 [70]
Tactical Advantages
One Person Army:Level 3 - You believe the only benefit of the A.I. Cores is to supplement your body with additional power. You abhor summoning their physical forms. While fighting without summoning an A.I. Core, you gain an additional +15 to all stats. However, if you do summon an A.I. core, you will receive a -30 to all stats instead.
The way her body moved around his assault was almost incredible. Yes, he had to admit, that his attacks might have been a bit obvious, but that was sort of the point. Regardless of that, the way she moved, it was almost like looking at himself. Born and raised for the sake of fighting, both experts in multiple styles, both total savages in the way the go about combat. The biggest difference was she seemed to be more about ferocity and instinct, and Dal'Mori was more about precision, and momentum.
Two vastly different styles, almost exact opposites of each other.
It was a beautiful thing, masterful in execution, an amazing sight to see, even for the warrior. He found himself glad to be a part of such a thing, no matter the fact that this opponent was bothering him.
He found himself standing with his head down, resting against her when she came to a rest at his back. In that one brief moment he found himself calm. He was fighting in a game to see who was the best, against possibly the best, who just so happened to be almost his exact opposite.
If one was interested in symbols, or finding meaning in coincidence, for that one brief moment it became stunningly obvious how different they actually were, all the way up to their hair.
When she offered her advice, he tilted his head slightly as if to say he held no strong opinion on the matter while he turned to face her again. He understood where she was coming from, but this weapon just seemed to fit him better, pus it had sentimental value.
So that was a pretty big con towards changing it.
It was about then that he felt it.
While in her presence something in the back of mind had been going crazy, something familiar that he couldn't quite put his finger on. At that point Faelan took off her mask, he wasn't sure if it was some form of magic again, or some style of mental block, but something fundamental changed in his opponent in that moment, and it was then he finally understood.
It was something primal!
Something inside of him was responding to the sheer primal nature of the person before him. She seemed to be in some control of herself, but even he could tell she was no longer holding back, her body now literally just carrying itself as if she now operated by instinct. There was a brief pause when she did something to her weapon, but it just flowed right out of her as she shot at him.
Like a powerful predator, she came at him, her intent on ending him so obvious, his blood thrilled at the sight of that gleam in her eyes. There it was! She was finally taking him seriously! It too much less time than his opponent, but that didn't mean he couldn't be upset by being underestimated.
Her first attack was launched with a stunning amount lethal accuracy, his staff coming up with just the right angle to send it sliding up the shaft of his weapon, straight into the air.
What he was not expecting was that attack to be shifted so amazingly well, her body not wasting a single motion as it called on her to spill his blood. The weapon came down so slowly, he could watch it's decent, but literally could do nothing about it. In real life, it was going at the right speed, but his perception of it had him watching in a sort of detached interest as the blade pierced his flesh, slicing through flesh and muscles.
The pain that spiked from that area was almost muted as he turned to look back at his opponent, a light ringing in his ears as he realized something within himself was calling out to him. Something within his mind was screaming at him to let it loose, let it out, let it taste combat!
He could barely hear it, but it was persistent.
On top of that, pain started to knock at his mind like a pulsing throb. The damage from the two attacks that landed were devastating. His legs were pretty messed up, which was probably throwing off most of his attacks or even his movements. Plus, now he was bleeding profusely from his neck, causing a small headache to start forming in the back of his mind.
Things were looking bleak.
He didn't even take the time to register that his arm was now inoperable, his body moving like it was always trained to do, his single arm now whipping the weapon around his body, in a fashion that almost made it hard to believe he wasn't using one of his arms.
He spun his body around once swiftly, whipping the weapon around his form like a cyclone, before shooting the tip forward the weapon extending from his body like it was just a long extension of his arm.
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B.A.I.T.R Standing: 80 Health: 380/780 Control Limit: 648
Skill: 60 [--] Strength: 50 [60] Defence: 50 [--]
Quote:
Tactical Advantages
Power House - Level 4 - Every time you deal damage to a foe, they lose 8 Defense for the duration of the fight.
A cold golden glow settled itself deep within the back of Faelan's eyes at the sight of the freshly spilled blood. When his first attack landed on his opponent it was satisfying to say the least, but now that blood flowed Faelan's mood could be considered to be ecstatic. Still it seemed that the joyous emotion never touched his facial features. It was truly an emotion that Fae could no longer feel. Rage, however, still seeped from each pore in a seemingly endless supply. It felt like an all encompassing force that would slowly and cruelly eat away at anything it came in contact with. Faelan's battle instinct quickly noticed the incoming attack that could be described as both precise and very skilled. In response to the will of his opponent Faelan let out a rather loud and ferocious roar. Attacking in such a state was an almost impossible thing to pull off even for some of the most experienced fighters. Only after many years of constant training could one honestly enter into such a state in the midst of battle. Without thinking Fae's left hand fell to sheath by his waist and with a slight pull outwards the sheath disconnected from the belt around his waist. Spinning counter clockwise while stepping forward Fae brought up the sheath and knocked it against the tip of the spear easily knocking off its intended mark. After parrying the spear Fae continued to spin making a full circle, so he was once more facing Dal'Mori, and lashed out with his right hand aiming his blade to slash across his opponent's face.
After the attack was sent Faelan backed off a bit but did not halt his movement all together. Instead he moved around the edge of the ring keeping a close eye on his opponent as he did so. Fae had quickly sheathed the blade after his counter, now loosely holding it in his right hand. Still as he held it Faelan did not re-engage the magnetic lock so the weight of the blade stayed the same. Faelan sized up the current status of his opponent – no, more like his prey – while he circled around the ring. A bruised leg, non-functioning arm, and a rather large cut across his neck Dal'Mori was visibly in dire straights. The will to fight his opponent still possessed was not a laughing matter. While Fae circled Dal'Mori looking for the perfect moment to strike Omega, Fae's AI, would squirm and utter the occasional curse towards its master. The anger it possessed at its current situation still could not stand in front of Faelan's primal rage and was quickly pushed down and repressed. Fear eventually took its place as saw just how much rage Fae possessed. Then he found a suitable opening. Fae charged forward with a certain disregard for his own well being. As he drew in past the reach of Dal'Mori's spear Fae's right hand quickly moved to unsheathe the sword in a quick and decisive drawing slash. The heavy blade was aimed to slash horizontally across his opponent's abdomen in an attempt to add yet another impressive cut to Dal'Mori's body.
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Quote:
B.A.I.T.R Standing: 82 Health: 800/800 Control Limit: 660
Skill: 55 [71] Strength: 55 [70] Defense: 55 [70]
Tactical Advantages
One Person Army:Level 3 - You believe the only benefit of the A.I. Cores is to supplement your body with additional power. You abhor summoning their physical forms. While fighting without summoning an A.I. Core, you gain an additional +15 to all stats. However, if you do summon an A.I. core, you will receive a -30 to all stats instead.
Catching her reaction to his firm grip on her knee had him wanting to chuckle or even arch a brow, but Satoru was able to keep himself from doing either as he found Corrinne's flustered expression to be amusing since such thoughts actually didn't enter his mind until he saw her expression. Even so, they didn't linger for very long and probably disappeared from his thoughts as fast as they entered. If anything, it felt more to him that they were in a very bizarre and complicated dance considering how Corrinne was somehow keeping her balance on one foot while hanging onto to his elbow with her arm hooked around it. Then for his position, he was leaning dangerously close to the red head with his arm equally hooked around her arm and other hand gripping tentatively around her knee toward and near his rib cage where she had been aiming to strike. Unfortunately, they weren't on a dance floor and Yamada then couldn't help but wonder if there ever would come a scenario. Not a lot of people took him to be the dancing type, but he always took an interest in western dance styles and did enjoy a sensual tango or even a heated samba. Maybe one day and his partner didn't necessarily have to be the woman before him.
As his fist came crashing down, it made contact with the ground rather then Corrine as she fluidly moved out of the way and wasted no time in distancing herself from him. Again, his eyes followed her every move before he lifted his knuckles from the ground as tiny bits of rubble and dust fell from them. There had obviously been some power put into his punch, though not too much to where it could've potentially broken any bones. Brushing his knuckles while standing up straight, Satoru saw her gaze moving past him and he didn't need to follow it to know she was fixated on retrieving her staff that now rested behind him and his guard. Feeling her stare become intense over him, she just stood there and appeared to be studying him again while contemplating on her next move. He was curious, though would assume she would attempt on getting her weapon back despite how much fun they seemed to be having with hand to hand combat; he was anyway.
Waiting patiently for his opponent to make her next attack, eyes then rose for a split second as she broke into a dash toward him. Spreading his feet further apart, bending his knees a little and arms lifted, he prepared for the full head on attack. However, he was thrown off. When he saw her beginning to crouch, he was expecting her to go in for his legs and was ready to jump out of the way. As he was getting ready to leap, Corrine's body was then rising with her arms straight out in front of her as she used her knees to boost her up and was now tackling Yamada down onto the ground. With a grunt and a few rolls, he was the one who ended up getting pinned on the bottom and was soon met with one of Esperon's punches. Unlike her first attempt, this one landed and hit the left side of his jawbone, but one hit was all Satoru allowed for her to get in before he caught both her fists in his hands. Using his flexibility, he managed to bring his legs and knees from under Corrinne and close against his body before swiftly extending them upward in a hard kick and an attempt to knock her off of him with his hands releasing her clenched ones.
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{OOC: }
Quote:
B.A.I.T.R Standing: 32 Health: 273/340 Control Limit: 252
Skill: 21 [22] Strength: 21 [21] Defense: 21 [21]
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Tactical Advantages
Commander - Level 1 - You command the battlefield with superior strategy and intellect, giving your allies an edge in combat. Anyone fighting alongside you gains +5 Defense.
After Corrinne had leapt for Satoru she didn’t expect her plan to work out. Yet, as soon as she made contact with his torso he fell backwards with her sprawled on top of him. She had him pinned and even managed to get in a good punch to his jaw. “Oh!” She uttered in surprise, “I’m sorry-“ before she could completely finish her thoughts he caught both of her hands. Flustered by this action she didn’t know what to expect next. Her mind had gone blank and within a minute’s time he had already shifted his legs between them. Corrinne looked at him confused as he kicked her off of him. She flew backwards and landed hard on the ground in front of him.
“OH” She breathed out with a groan. The kick didn’t hurt but it took her off guard and now her back was beginning to feel the last two drops. Hoisting herself up onto her elbows she looked at Satoru before her, no doubt he would quickly recover to watch her next move. But after the kick to her body she wasn’t in the biggest rush to continue the battle. She remembered the pain she had felt battling the AI and it was nothing compared to this real pain. After taking a moment to breath in and out she pulled herself up to a standing position and flung herself at Yamada again. There wasn’t time to spare; she tried to catch him while he was still down. Throwing down an ordinary kick to his gut then a spinning roundhouse kick to his head.
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LINES: 810
Quote:
B.A.I.T.R Standing: 35 Health: 400/400 Control Limit: 280
Skill: 25 [25] Strength: 25 [26] Defence: 20 [21]
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Tactical Advantages
Sadist - Level 1 - When one of your attacks deals damage, you get +5 to your Strength. This bonus disappears if an opponent successfully blocks one of your attacks. Sadist does not stack with itself.
Quote:
A.I. Core
Reaper Crab
B.A.I.T.R Standing: 14 Health: 160/160
Skill: 5 Strength: 12 Defense: 10
Tactical Advantage:Sadist
Ippiki-Ookami RP
OOC: Sorry I was gone a few days, my family was keeping me occupied xD
