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Midus Sonners Vice Captain
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Posted: Tue Jun 24, 2008 2:04 pm
Fighting Ring Description: As the crowd cheers from the stands in a closed stadium where lights shine from above to light up the interior in a flash show, within a fighting area of only thirty feet in diameter stands a six-sided fighting ring, having a diameter of only twenty feet where the semi finals will take place. The ropes are indestructible, but bendable enough to rebound a person back in the other direction when pushed against. The ring stands three feet off the ground, with the ropes adding another three feet. The apron, the floor of the ring (also indestructible), is bouncy to absorb shock and decrease injury to those who are slammed against it, but it doesn't get rid of all the force due to its stability. Ten Count Boundary: When knocked outside the ring, that is when the ten count starts. The ten count is reset if the other fighter gets outside the ring, too. The ten count stops if the other fighter is in the ring using indirect means to keep the other fighter down, such as by vines or something of that nature. If the fighter is outside the ring, at least five feet from it using methods like this, then the ten count keeps going.
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Posted: Tue Jun 24, 2008 2:41 pm
An eight sided ring.. This is getting tiresome, the warrior gritted his teeth, spitting out the wad of chewed up thyssel bark he'd been working on for the past few minutes as he made his way into his arena.
Cameras flashed all around him as he walked towards the ring, his rough boots clacking soundly on the floor beneath him as he leapt up onto the edge of the ring, grabbing the top rope to bound over it and land with a heavy, leaden thud.
Above him, Farragut's camera man zoomed in on him. The camera focused on the warrior's face, his calm features looking around as he surveyed the crowd, walking along the ropes, letting his right hand trace along it slowly. He knew who his opponent was. He knew the creature wasn't human. He didn't like the setting of their fight, but it'd have to do.
Beside the Psi-Nine cameraman, Farragut delivered his commentary, speaking as best he could above the rolling sound of the crowd.
"I'm Jonnie Farragut with the Psi-Nine Gaian News! We're here at the Gaian Tenkaichi Budokai II, live and uncensored! We've followed him from the Heaven or Hell scene all the way to here, the one and only Deitric "The Thundering Tempest" Jocasta! He's agreed to allow us to get exclusive interviews and to follow him in the tournaments he joins, and we're here to watch him duke it out for a place in the finals!" Jonnie grinned widely, turning to look down at the form of Deitric. The fighter had gotten him a lot of money so far, and if he kept going, Farragut and his crew would get all the credit for 'discovering' the fighter.
Deitric had other thoughts though. He was waiting for his opponent.
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Posted: Tue Jun 24, 2008 4:48 pm
A breath of relief. The arena was practically normal in comparison to the last two, his last match being a complete waste of time as he had sat in the cold waiting for some p***y willow human. Shrug. It had given him time to recuperate at a more sufficient rate from the second round, he was practically at 100% for this Semi-Final.
His shoulders rolled as a plethora of stomps emitted, the very floor he walked upon vibrated with Murdoch's bulk. A roll of the neck would unlock a symphony as he came ever closer to the arena, the fans roared, which annoyed him. Shut the ******** up... The ten foot wonder made his way into the arena, his tainted red eyes (covered by eye lenses of course) had scanned the man on his way towards the arena, this man looked the most impressive out of the combatants he had toyed with before hand. Hopefully he wouldn't be to much of a pain in his side.
Murdoch's weight bounced him just a bit as he took his place at the opposite side of the arena. He would greet his opponent with a respectful nod and a slight hiss akin to a carbonated can of soda opening. His scaly lips parted, releasing an obviously bass heavy voice that hushed most of the crowed as they fed off the pre-fighting tension. Anticipation.
"Shall we...Begin?"
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Posted: Tue Jun 24, 2008 5:17 pm
Above them, the camera shifted to take in Murdoch's entrance. The camera followed the behemoth as he moved, catching every step and nuance before zooming back out to watch over both fighters, hurried comments and observations being made by Farragut at random.
Definitely not human..," the Khasmin tribesman thought inwardly as he looked over at his opponent. Easily topping the brave in height and weight, the purple beast demanded the attention of all those who watched on with his presence. Inwardly, Deitric could feel a faint itch, almost like an allergic reaction. He didn't mind non-humans, but something inside him - something that connected with him, but wasn't a part of him - recoiled at them.
"Sounds good," he offered, turning to square his shoulders with the other fighter, his hands resting down at the belt-loops that held his tomahawks, ready to draw them at a moment's notice. He hadn't yet taken of his shades, and the glow of his turquoise eyes was firmly hidden behind the opaque shades - though, it did make for easier viewing on his side. He didn't much care for glaring lights and flashing cameras.
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Posted: Tue Jun 24, 2008 5:30 pm
Not making the first move? It would seem Murdoch would once again have to insinuate the first move. Which he would, the dragonkin noticed the man's toys, but displayed no true emotion behind the target's action of laying his hands upon what would be tomahawks.
He walked forth. The muscles upon his very body began to pulsate, tension building in their very fibers as Murdoch allowed the full effect of his weight to be bestowed upon the man as the arena floor would react with a slight bounce, mimicking the impacts of feather weights being slammed into the arena had their been any. Useful...
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Posted: Tue Jun 24, 2008 5:51 pm
Deitric didn't seem to move much as Murdoch approached. Deitric wasn't the biggest man, but he was big enough that his weight wouldn't be unsettled on by the shuddering canvas beneath him. He let his fingers curl around the haft of his weapons beneath the ax-heads, using the push of his thumbs to force them up, pulling them free completely by the rubber-covered handle areas.
The fighter suddenly shot to his left, his booted feet carrying him easily in a diagonal line as if he were going to flank the purple dragonkin in front of him. With both of them moving forward (albeit one moving straight, and the other moving at an angle to the other's left), it'd close the distance between them much quicker than before.
Let's see what he can do..
Deitric could see through his shades like they weren't even there, by now - they still covered the glow of his eyes well enough, though. He'd continue his quick burst to move past the other fighter, but they'd be able to make passing attacks at each other if either decided to.
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Posted: Tue Jun 24, 2008 5:58 pm
Murdoch watched him dart away, and flank. His heels pivoting to allow him the pleasure to point the front of his body towards the moving target, Murdoch had stopped moving. I hope he doesn't expect me to chase him... The dragonkin had not entered his weapon of choice with him for this tournament, he lacked range weapons, and he sure as hell wasn't going to bother chasing after a smaller, apparently quicker individual.
He would conserve his strength and merely walk at a calmer pace backwards so that his body face hid opponent, but his trajectory was headed towards a roped side.
Sure the crowd would watch with slight confusedness, they had never seen Murdoch act so passively. Was this a ploy the purple giant was pulling? Or was he truly just lazy?
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Posted: Tue Jun 24, 2008 6:18 pm
Deitric turned about as he moved to the space that would have been behind his opponent had the man not turned to keep his eyes on the warrior (note, Deitric isn't behind him, they're facing each other. Deitric just moved to a different position) - the fighter wasn't attacking. Deitric only shrugged turned about to face the man. It'd only taken him ten or twelve paces to cover the distance, and if Murdoch wasn't attacking, neither was he. They were both unorthodox fighters, and Deitric saw no reason to attack when he could just as easily bide his time.
A barely suppressed shudder ran up his spine as the human generator's output continued to build. He kept it inside of him though, unwilling to release it yet. He wanted to let it build and grow. It felt like adrenaline; it quickened his senses and reactions. His dark shades still obscured his bright eyes, though. Combined with the harsh lighting of the area, it'd be near impossible to notice anyways - at least for the time being.
He could hear a faint buzzing in his ears now, the feeling of raw lightning growing from within. Beneath the shocking static, something else was growing through, fighting to get free. It burned white-hot behind his eyes, pecking away at his control to try and force him to release it on the monstrous fighter in front of him. But he held it back too-- there wasn't a reason for it, yet.
If Murdoch wanted to plan something, it suited Deitric fine. He kept himself squared and facing the opponent the entire time, simply watching him. He had a faint idea of what the dragonkin was going to do, but it always paid to wait and watch.
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Posted: Tue Jun 24, 2008 6:51 pm
Somewhere within the vast crowd, a man listened to a Dope song upon his mp3 device, it made him cream while watching the rather slow match ensue, the man was a fan boy of Murdoch's and knew what the muscle tensing brute was capable of. Murdoch continued to rotate upon his heel, stopping his back pacing, it apparently didn't take much for his opponent to end up back where he first started (assuming the target is pretty close with that tid-bit). Murdoch's tension riddled fibers beneath his scales rippled as kinetic energy exploded, his target was in for a shock as one of Murdoch's natural abilities became evident, his weight was unhindered as he brought his left foot forth first in a leap to close the distance with ease, landing on his right while lifting his arms, his right bending at the elbow swiftly and unleashing itself with the full fury of it's sextupled sized compared to his left hand. It was a fist aimed for a now still target's torso, so the punch was angled at a decline. Using Murdoch's upper body to move into a decline as well as his right foot braced at the knee. Some ******** spilled his soda on the fan boy, ******** up his mp3.
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Posted: Tue Jun 24, 2008 7:26 pm
It didn't take long for Deitric to decide that staying in front of the Mac truck his opponent called a right hand wasn't a good idea. The fighter bounced to his left to the outside of the out-stretched arm with a quick, light-footed lunge. Like Murdoch, he had surprised enemies with his agility, despite his size, which was fairly large for human standards. Deitric's right arm flashed out quickly in a side-swipe for the dragonkin's elbow. He turned his body to add more power to the attack and to keep himself facing his opponent, backing away quickly after his attempted retaliation. He was intending to try and use his quickness to keep them distant and wear the big fighter down. The dragonscale might've worked well as armor, but the brave's war tools were meant to rend armor - just like any axe, and it took very little power to put the weapon's capabilities into effect. The buzzing in his ears was growing stronger, and the feeling it masked was getting even worse - his mouth felt dry and his nerves were on fire from the building power. At this rate, he was going to burn up from the inside out if he didn't release it. Even though the fury of combat hid it, the fighter was shaking - not enough to be noticed or to affect his fighting. It could've been mistaken as an adrenaline rush by anyone, but it was something much more. Above in the stands, one of Deitric's fans was listening to his own tune.
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Posted: Tue Jun 24, 2008 8:03 pm
Rows of sharpened teeth gleamed.
The fist had come down at a decline, his torso also in a decline as the massive fist's momentum and weight steered the rest of the Dragonkin into a 360 turn, the already lifted left arm was now coming into the scene as his bare heels pivoted to accommodate the motion, his right shoulder scraped as a row of scales were damaged by the axe, cracking in a straight line. Hardly worth cringing over as Murdoch's lengthy left arm came down in an odd uncanny spinning back fist of sorts, obviously unorthodox.
The arc the left arm had taken (considering he allowed his entire torso to be driven in a turn at a decline starting with the previous right punch) was designed to deliver a KO worthy, if not excruciating blow as the speed, weight, and momentum drove it down, however it would seem his target had just moved away as the arm came down, instead of Murdoch's elbow connecting to the back of the man's neck/head/torso, it would be left to the coincidence of the length of his arm to do the damage which consisted of his forearm/fist/etc which would be dealing the blow to whatever region was available to a target moving backwards, which would perhaps be the top of the man's skull, or shoulders. Brutal.
Despite his mp3 ******** up, the fan boy creamed. The match's momentum had obviously picked up.
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Posted: Tue Jun 24, 2008 8:50 pm
Luckily, Deitric had kept his movement going - he hadn't stopped to make his own attack. When his opponent continued spinning, he did his best to continue back-pedaling as he had been, throwing up his free arm in the way of the oncoming blow. It wasn't the best block in the world, but it'd do the job. Probably.
THUD--
The blow (specifically, the fist) caught Deitric while he was pushing himself backwards, smashing his arm away and forcing him to hit the canvas like a rag-doll before rolling backwards. He quickly brought himself up and continued to move back towards the edge of the ring, both arms up and ready. It took him hardly a split-second to recover - at least in the instinctual manner of "get up after getting knocked down."
If he hadn't been moving back, the blow would have been much worse, but Deitric had been on the move even while aiming to deliver his own blow to his opponent-- the attack had hit him, but not at the greatest potential that it had had. It certainly caught him off guard, though. Not to mention the fact it hurt. A lot. He was fairly certain something in his forearm had been torn or fractured, and his fingers were both throbbing and numb at the same time. Never a good sign.
The bracer of his left arm slipped from under his sleeve to bounce on the canvas and roll off, dented and useless. His arm throbbed in pain, but he'd live. Blood trickled down his left hand from where the bracer had dug into his flesh, but it had done its job. Even though his arm had taken the brunt of the blow, his head was still swimming a bit from the force that had traveled through his body. He was human, but he was much tougher than he looked.
Unfortunately, his shades had been knocked off as well. The usually turquoise hue of eyes were burning a luminescent white. The teal color was still noticeable beneath the glow, but it was hazed with the pulsating power that was crawling beneath Deitric's skin, biting at the bit to get free. Sweat had beaded along his forehead and the glow from his eyes was growing stronger, and the air around his form looked as if it were ready to catch fire any moment.
Assuming he was able to, the warrior would place his tomahawks back at his belt, clenching and unclenching his fingers for a moment. He was almost running on auto-pilot - he wasn't thinking, so much as moving purely on will and adrenaline. The blow his opponent delivered had shaken him, but he wasn't going to be put down so easily.
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Posted: Wed Jun 25, 2008 11:25 am
Murdoch was a brute by birthright and a blood lusty dragoon by psyche, the feel of his left fist connecting upon his target made his saliva run rampant, enzymes coating his rows of teeth as his radula ran down his throat and back up, while his body had yet to stop it's ruthless assault.
Unhindered.
The left hand connected, and kept going, his back had been facing the falling opponent as the left arm went on, his lengthy legs parting and pivoting on their heels to close the distance and accommodate another unorthodox spinning-fist move. All while his target scrambled back up once more, his massive legs easily doing away with distance as his right arm came down with even more astounding force then his left had, for the massive sized right fist (which is sextupled the size of his left) was coming down with even greater speed and force as built up kinetic energy had excelled the limits of what Murdoch could normally allow his arm to swing at had he not been spinning.
Something was going to break.
The crowd went mad with blood lust, a mixture of roars, shrills, and silence filling the second of impact, the face worn on the brutish dragonkin was one of questionable lust as drool escaped his scaly maw. His protective eye-wear still fastened tightly despite the centrifugal force. His blood stained eyes caught glance of the target's own strange tools of sight.
A bone-powdering sledgehammer of a blow was to be connecting to a shocked(or "shaken")/backwards moving target (once again, head/shoulders/etc) who was running out of space to back up into much less just gathering his bearings. The massive fist/forearm was merciless.
Murdoch's aggressiveness is what had won him his previous matches, and it would once again be used to help him suffocate his opponent in a swell of barrages.
That same fanboy had made the inside of his black jeans, white.
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Posted: Wed Jun 25, 2008 11:48 am
WHAM
The giant, purple dragonkin's fist slammed home into the canvas with an earth-rattling crash, but if he raised his fist he wouldn't find Deitric beneath it.
More animal than man at the moment, the Khasmin warrior had leapt back, letting his instincts take control and guide him. He'd been in worse situations, all considered - the blow Murdoch had given him was hard, but not the hardest he'd ever taken, and he'd risen up from worse. His first instinct in this case was to move back any time Murdoch showed any offensive movement.
The fighter had cut it close, but he'd threw himself back into the air with surprising alacrity, but his jump took him too far, he almost flew too far. The top rope caught his form, his weight sinking it low for just a nanosecond before the rope forcefully rebounded against him, slingshotting the warrior up into the air a good six or seven meters. The speed of his ascent was more than a little impressive - he wasn't much more than a blur.
Cameras in the crowd shifted up to see what the warrior was doing. Normally, with the lights above him, anyone looking up would have seen a shadowed form. But the tribesman was nearly giving off his own light by now; there was something burning white hot around him that couldn't be made out in the arena lighting until he came down.
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Posted: Wed Jun 25, 2008 6:38 pm
Fast ******** fist went through the arena floor.
(Sorry for the shittyness, graduated today, slightly drunk)
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