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 Posted: Tue Jul 29, 2008 10:52 pm
"Does it make a rathin' difference?"
Crawley didn't have his baton with him, weapons didn't suit him much anyway. He just had his fists and some well-tailored shoes.
He walked forward with no stance, just his hands at his sides until he came within a foot of Ebris. Instead of looking at him, he stared at the dead center of his chest with the look of someone doing something that had to be done come rain or shine. The 1000 yard stare. Straight through him.
"Things are different, but we can still find out if you deserved the title over MATA LEON."
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Posted: Thu Jul 31, 2008 3:31 am
Akechi came out, slinging his bat across his shoulder with his good arm with his other in a make-shift and bloody sling.
Atleast the hospital staff had given him some painkillers and basic first aid, not to mention lighting a cigarette for him.
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Posted: Mon Aug 11, 2008 10:16 am
This place again. The asphalt warm beneath his feet, remnants of a tournament lost. Looking around at the empty parking spots, there was still a stain on the brick wall where Ebris had ******** up that little shite. Shaking his head, Colin pulled out the notice from his pocket.
ATTN GAROU PARTICIPANT You have been selected to take part in GAROU vol. 1! You will be fighting Vincent Daithes at the The Parking Lot.
Didn't really give the punker much to go off of. walking over to the wall where the real Bloodbath had started, Colin leaned against it, waiting. He only had one weapon on him, and that was his Ares swords. At the moment, they were connected, so all outward appearances would show them as a single black baton with silver caps and a mid-band. Now, all he could do was wait.
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Posted: Tue Aug 12, 2008 11:39 am
The name in the letter. It sounded all too familiar...
Vincent, who had been summoned out of his stupor via letter had made his way to the missile silo, which questionably had a parking lot. He heard about this place, yes. The Bloodbath Arena was below his feet. A place where the minority of blood-thirsty madmen made their way to kill one another for the sake of prize money.
Why was an old fart like himself in this s**t? Oh yeah, thats right. He decided in despite of his heart condition he wanted to prove himself he was capable of bringing down one of the younger folk. Not to say that run-in with the goblin horde awhile back made it clear he was too old for combat. Hell no. This stubborn old man wanted to show himself he was still worth a damn.
He came into the parking lot, the tension of RAEG all too apparent in these parts. He wanted to assume this was going to be easy. He wanted to assume he was packing heat. He wanted to, but in reality all he had on him was a belt, and tha-WHAT? A ******** BELT? ARE YOU SERIOUS? Yes, a belt, on his waist. Not to say it had a decent buckle. The kind your daddy used to beat the s**t out of you with. This old man best be joking.
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Posted: Tue Aug 12, 2008 2:59 pm
Looking at the sun slowly setting, Colin heard the familiar scrape of gravel against asphalt. Turning his head towards the sound, the punker spotted the boy-o, surprised by both his age and height. Sure, the guy wall almost half a foot taller than him, but he was a geezer. What did this guy hope to prove? Did he want to get beat to death, or was this some kind of a mid-life crisis? Still trying to run with the big boys.
The punker would shrug and stand, reaching his full height of 5' 11". Chuckling to the man, he'd slowly close the distance, walking at a leisurely pace. His curiosity eventually overcame him.
Oi! What're you doing out here?
If that didn't startle the old man, then there'd be a chance this was going to be fun. If it did, well, then Colin would try to end this quickly. no sense in keeping the fart alive any longer than he needed to be.
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Posted: Tue Aug 12, 2008 4:00 pm
The old man, with a slight notion of not being alone, was not startled. Instead, he was inclined to turn towards the source of the noise, like any human being would. What he saw was another one of those young-types. The types that butted in on everything even if it wasn't their own business. Noisy ********. Yeah, thats what he called them. Apparently, this noisy ******** was the entire reason that he was here. So he assumed. He let the inquiry slide.
"'M here for th' fight, guy. Summons from a letter, see? I am going to assume you are th' one I am supposed to break, eh?"
He wasn't very sharp now. He used to be, but now everything he says or does it on autopilot. He has done it so many times he doesn't put much of an effort. Which, I am sad to say, is one of the reasons he was here. Course he isn't going to let any noisy ******** know that. Too proud for that sort of thing.
Still has that belt, though.
The tension in the air was building.
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Posted: Tue Aug 12, 2008 5:16 pm
Colin chuckled. This oldie had some spunk to him. Maybe this would be fun after all. Rubbing his index finger along their respective thumb's ring, Colin shook his head as he continued to saunter towards his challenger.
Break? No. Sorry, Vincent, but I'm the one that's going to leave you poxy.
Yes, this guy had spunk, but Colin had the advantage. He was younger, more agile, and more than likely stronger. He also had another variable in his favor: improvised fighting. Colin had learned that, in most occasions, learned fighting wasn't going to cut it. In those times, he resorted to chaotic, unconventional moves.
A few meters were left between the two now. Who would try to strike first?
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Posted: Wed Aug 13, 2008 12:23 pm
The old man unbuckled his belt, and decided to let it hang loosely from his right hand, buckle down. Meaning, that he was intending it to be used as a variant of some sort of whip.
Now if there was only a car.
Lucky us, there is. Right over there, that car which has been mentioned and acknowledged by others. Why a car? Wouldn't you like to know. Lucky for us, the old salt, Vincent, was busy cracking his joints and making disgusting popping noises while getting a look at the area around him. Being able to bend over backwards has great benefits when observing your area and making your opponent want to puke at the same time. Creepy old ********.
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Posted: Wed Aug 13, 2008 4:24 pm
That little s**t. Did he really think he had time to stretch? Taking the rest of the way decidedly quicker than his pace before, he'd be upon the man as he was bent over in some kind of Exorcist crab walk. A swift kick to the man's left shin with his right foot, the Tartan Converse less of a threat than the power he'd put behind it.
25/25
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Posted: Wed Aug 13, 2008 4:50 pm
Ah, old salt up to his own tricks. He was ogling the car, no doubt. His guard however, was far from down. If anything, he was as tense as Patrick Bateman's morning routine, only moreso. The sudden metaphorical sanp in the tension is what sent the old man jeering up at the boy, snapping his belt towards the oncoming canvas-bound foot.
It would wrap around the ankle, god-willing, and show this noisy ******** not to disturb people while in the middle of a nice peaceful stretch. On the other hand, if he did indeed miss, the kick would cause the man undeniable pain. True, he might get a nice broken bone. Then again, whats to say the old salt darted out of the way like a crab caught in the sight of a seagull?
Whatever the outcome, someone was going to get hurt.
25/25
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Posted: Wed Aug 13, 2008 6:04 pm
Unless this geriatric prat was an acrobat or had started moving before the kick was launched, there was no way on earth he'd be able to snap the belt before the blow was landed. A flip, sure. That could have been a dodge, maybe even a kick to he punker's face, but snapping up from a back bend? Not here, not at the parking lot of Bloodbath?
Fortunately for the man, the belt would wrap around the punker's foot as it came back from the blow, though that was a small victory compared to the fist that was coming in to kiss the guy square in the mouth. Left straight, a quick and powerful jab.
Now, about that belt. Colin would pull his leg back and stomp down, making his left foot his forward one, keeping the power in his punch more than enough to sting if not bruise or, at the most, break the bone. This pull should cause the old man's arm to extend, making it useless for now unless he wanted to fight for the strip, in which case this would be one very painful game of tug-o-war.
25/25
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Posted: Thu Aug 14, 2008 9:21 am
Now having leverage on his leg, the kid would be at the old man's mercy. Except for one problem. The nice sucker punch set him reeling back, and in return his vice-like grip on the belt would hold strong as the kid would be sent tumbling on the ground with the old man. The belt would've loosened from the foot by now, but the man's grip would remain. With both opponents on the ground, one of them considering investing in dentures, it would only be a matter of time before one of them recovers.
((Also, I am not too sure about the point thing, since this match is under Bloodbath rules [which basically means we beat the s**t out of one another until one of us dies or yields.] Either way, best to be safe.))
22/25 - KNOCKDOWN Vincent Daithes takes -3
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Posted: Thu Aug 14, 2008 11:14 am
s**t!
The punker hadn't expected the man to be quite that strong. His leg slid out from under him and, with little grace, he copied the fart and fell to the ground. His head cracked loudly against the asphalt, and he hissed in pain. He'd had worse hits, but this one was going to leave a lump. Sitting up, he rubbed the back of his head, cursing at the man.
22/25 -Knockdown
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Posted: Thu Aug 14, 2008 3:35 pm
"******** prat, eh?"
The old man got to his feet, his left leg feeling stinging slightly. If anything, it was his gob that hurt. Now to show this little s**t true grit. He made his way over to the kid, and grabbed him by his ankles. Hoisting him up, the man have relative ease picking him up. Thats not to say he had any trouble.
"Heavy little s**t, ain't you. No matter, up and OUGHTUGH..."
The man gave a grunt, and a slight popping sound could be heard as he began to twirl the kid around by the ankles. Nothing flashy, but he was a good foot off the ground as he spun him. He worked into a squatting positon, and eventually chucked the kid as he could no longer hold him. A loud snap was also issued, as the muscles in the salts back gave way to the weight being hurled about.
He wasn't young anymore, but he could still send the little shits flying. The kid wouldn't go far, but the fall would cause some more pain. As the salt let go, he. too also fell on his a** thanks to gravity.
19/25 KNOCKDOWN Vincent Daithes takes -3
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