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 Posted: Sun Jun 06, 2010 8:10 pm
 VS.
Located in an open-roof stadium is the ring where the first round fights will be taking place. The sound of wild cheering from the many fans that have congregated here fill the arena in a loud uproar as cameras zoom in on the action to broadcast the fights all over the world. The floor of the arena is a glossy hard floor with the logo of GTB painted in purple and pink upon the white sheen. Field Measurements: The fighting area is a perfect circle with a 50 yard diameter. The walls that keep the fighters away from the spectators are raised up to ten feet. Ten Count Boundary: The ten count begins whenever the fighter is knocked out of the bounds of the fighting area, such as into the spectator seats. The flying count out is also in effect, which means, if you stay above ground by your own will for more than ten seconds, you will be DQ'd. Fight Ends: After 11:59 PM on Jun 16th. That means when it becomes Jun 17th, fights are over.
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Posted: Mon Jun 07, 2010 5:26 am
A figure clad entirely in black emerged from the western gate and made his way towards the center of the ring at a quickened pace. He wore a hood pulled tightly over his head so that it obscured all but crimson eyes, his brow furrowed in a petulant glare as he looked around the arena. Those who could view his profile or his back could see that he had a bushy black tail curled up behind him that swished from side to side with each step he took. Halfway from the center of the ring he slowed his pace to a brisk walk as he continued to take in all the sight--and especially the sounds--of the grand arena.
Rylen stood at a rather unimpressive height of 5'7" in a tournament relatively dominated by giants. He wore a black hooded sweatshirt and baggy black cargo pants that made it difficult for the fans and his foe alike to ascertain his build, barring a supernatural ability to do so. On his feet he wore simple black and white sneakers. All in all, he looked rather plain, and the way he pulled the hood of his long-sleeved sweatshirt taut over his head while he continuously glanced this way and that around the arena gave him the appearance of a drug addict trying and failing to go incognito. Or he was a poor man's version of an urban ninja.
Whatever the case, his rather mundane outfit did have the benefit of allowing him to rather easily conceal any weapons he might or might not have, again barring any supernatural ability for his opponent to turn into a metal detector. The only thing that could be distinguished with any certainty was the lower half of a coiled length of black, cable-like rope at his left hip. Beyond that, his height and the relative lack of bulk underneath his clothes appeared to suggest he had a lean, fit build.
Rylen came to a stop roughly fifteen feet from the dead center of the ring to wait for his opponent--and rather impatiently at that. The agitated scowl on his face was evident despite the hood. He found the circumstances of his match irksome at best. For one, the constant tumult of the roaring crowd did not bode well for his sensitive hearing, hence the reason he pulled his hood over his head in a pitiful effort to protect his folded, wolfish ears. Also, he had ended up arriving before his opponent when he was almost certain he would arrive late. If Snow had supernaturally astute powers of observation, he might notice the tinge of redness in the corners of Rylen's eyes that suggested he had not had much sleep the night before. That would be an understatement.
He certainly enjoyed the reason he had missed so much sleep--the very same reason he had thought he would arrive late for his match that day. But the fact remained that he felt a little tired. With any luck, Rylen half hoped Snow was the type to spend all his time at the ball drinking himself into a stupor so that he would be left with one hell of a hangover. Rylen was not the type to drink himself, but he could already feel himself developing a pounding migraine from the ceaseless noise of the crowd. If anything, a hangover would help even the odds in that regard.
But, really, Rylen wanted a good fight, not an easy one. The other half of him wanted nothing more than to face this Snow at his peak for the real challenge. So with nothing left to do but wait, that is what Rylen did, idly surveying the arena while keeping an eye out for the first sign of his opponent.
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Posted: Mon Jun 07, 2010 8:28 am
The crowd was really something, she could feel the vibrations of its roar up through her feet. Just the diversity alone in the stands was astonishing. This really was a world class event. Isabella hadn't yet gotten the chance to visit the expo, she didn't have the time the night before nor did she want to risk not finding a seat for Rylen's fight, but she was sure there was something there for everybody. Even if someone was not too interested in watching a fight, they'd most likely would find something to keep them busy at this competition. Isabella was one of those people. While she wasn't totally against the idea of combat, she preferred to avoid it unless it were an absolute necessity. A stark contrast to Rylen who lived for the fight, but they were both passionate about the things that they loved.
Isabella wasn't able to find the perfect seat that she desired, but she also figured that those seats would be reserved for special guests. If only she had known Rylen's plans to enter earlier then she could planned things better and thrown a bit of money around or called in a favor from someone who might have a little pull. But the seat she did find wasn't so bad. She could see Rylen clearly, even his mesmerizing crimson eyes from where she was. The structure of the stadium made it easy for her to do that. The large platform in the center was beautiful, it focused one's attention there even with out a fight going on. But the fighters would probably have a hard time spotting someone in the sea of people less they knew where they were to search.
It might be more difficult for Rylen to spot her out because he had to leave for his fight while she was still getting ready. He probably didn't know just what she was wearing. It was simple though. Isabella was in a light spring dress, a comfortable soft yellow like the pedal of a sunflower. Her Sunday hat with a matching yellow ribbon covered her cat ears which might make it more difficult to spot her. But there was one defining piece of her wardrobe that might lead Rylen's attention right to her. Large, round, dark amber sunglasses covered her eyes and gave a darker tint to the world. Her face was stoic, somebody could possibly mistaken her to be sleeping she was so still. And that expression on her face wouldn't change unless Rylen did find her in the crowd, and then she would give him a smirk, he'd know what she was thinking.
This was all with the increasingly bothersome noise of the crowd. She noticed his hood pulled tightly around his head, and she knew he was probably trying to block out as much of the sound as possible. That was much more difficult for Isabella being right there at the source. Babies crying, people laughing, and a few impatient spectators jeering for the action to start. But she could handle it, it wasn't the first time she was placed in an uncomfortable situation. Being there in Rylen's corner was important to her, and she knew just how much it meant to him.
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Posted: Tue Jun 08, 2010 10:32 pm
As anxious as she was, she'd promised to keep quiet. She'd promised to do her best to remain as indiscreet as possible, and, unfortunately, that meant gray sweatpants and a hoodie--hood up, of course. As much of her body as possible was concealed by loose-fitting, baggy clothing, so much so that her tail could wrap about her waist and one leg without it looking too odd. With the first tell-tail feature taken care of, that left one more: the dead giveaway of her mis-matched eyes, left orb glistening of her dead mother while the right declared her father. A rather infamous father, at that, whose very presence seemed to somehow stir up so much trouble that she was brought into danger. Hence the get-up.
It was frustrating at best, but what could she do? The ball had made it more than obvious that her father had made one-too-many enemies of the world, and they were all out for blood. Even still, she refused to remain couped up in the hotel room, so this was the compromise. But why so anxious to attend this fight in particular, when her father was not the combatant?
When she saw the name on the brackets, she had to double-check the chaos hadn't made her delirious, and when it turned out to be true it was all she could do to ignore the flutter that had stirred until she got back to the privacy of her own room. Yes, indeed, that single name had stirred quite the fit of emotions in the young girl, even though their acquaintance had been brief. She wasn't entirely sure why she was so moved by him in particular--well, that wasn't entirely true, he was the only non-related, non-Cainite male she had contact with--but she was determined to re-connect with the young man, if only she could somehow meet up with him after the match. Until then, she would stand in silence among the thousands that had gathered, quietly yearning with all her heart,
...Do well, Snow...!!!
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Posted: Wed Jun 09, 2010 2:54 am
There wasn't any need for some fancy entrance, nor a flashy opening. As Rylen's impatient waiting lasted for a short while, his foe eventually appeared from the other side of the gate, the black longcoat with gold embroiderment on the edges flapping lazily under the swordsman's casual pacing. His hood was pulled back, revealing a set of bloody red hair which matched the color of his eyes. Wearing what appears to be some dark shirt, as well as some ordinary dark pants, two katana-like blades were hung on his hips, one on each side, while a long Halberd - roughly 7-8 foot total including the axe, was fastened behind his back securely for traveling purposes.
Despite the late entry into meeting the foe, the swordsman isn't in a hurry. Occasionally his gaze would glance from one area of the arena to the next. His boots would sometimes kick a bit harder on the floor, checking to see how much grip the ground has, seeing if there were some potential things he could exploit in this round. But...like any other setting, this place wasn't going to give him an edge in combat, the surrounding devoid of any potential...leverages for use.
On the bright side though, the humidity seems to be good. Perhaps this place isn't going to be that bad after all.
Stopping roughly twenty feet or so away from the center to keep the distance between the two long, the swordsman gave an idle wave to the opponent, his gaze slightly lowered because of Rylen's height. Raising an eyebrow at the foe's secretive attire, there wasn't much he can deduct to gauge the foe's strength or abilities. What he can, however, is roughly guess what the foe might use, and the ability from what is lacking.
Short range combat to surprise tactics would most likely fit the picture here. With that attire... Rylen probably won't have any long blades. Short swords, beating sticks and daggers...maybe. Nunchakus? Folded or collapsible weapons? It's more than possible.
Which means, in terms of ability that integrates with short range combat...
"..." The swordsman reached behind his back to tug at the Halberd, loosening it from the fastening and letting it fall to the ground behind him in a clang. Kicking it away lazily, he quickly unsheathed both his katanas out, holding it normally with the tip pointed towards the ground in front of him, before making a gesture at Rylen.
"Well. I guess we can't keep the crowd waiting, right?"
And with it, the swordsman took a small right step forward, his swords held at the ready as the crowd roared for the match to start.
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Posted: Wed Jun 09, 2010 8:44 am
Rylen idly scanned the crowds as he waited for his opponent to appear, though it did not take so long. He would have loved to tease Isabella with a wry grin just before combat, but then he also did not care for his opponent--or anyone else, for that matter--seeing that side of him. And even his keen eyesight did not afford him the ability to pick her out of the immense throng of spectators, all clamoring for action. If he was impatient, the bloodthirsty crowd was chomping at the bit.
The constant cacophony amplified Rylen's throbbing headache, and he curled back his lips on one side of his face to bare some of his fangs in a snarl. He caught notice of Snow's entrance at about that time, and his expression immediately shifted to that reminiscent of a predator spotting his prey across the open plain of the battlefield, his lips immediately pursed in concentration. His bushy tail went rigid, swaying from side to side like a metronome of ill omen.
Crimson eyes met Snow's red eyes, or at least they did whenever Snow took the time to gauge Rylen's appearance. And where Snow's might have wandered here or there, Rylen's gaze remained sharp and unflinching.
If Snow's general demeanor or his armament had any effect on Rylen, the half-wolf made no indication of it. His reaction to any of his observations about Snow or his arsenal would remain a mystery. He did seem mildly annoyed, but that was entirely due to his growing migraine and the fact that Snow sure took his sweet time getting things underway. For his part, Rylen did not budge from his spot, and he allowed Snow all the time he needed to get prepared.
Upon hearing Snow's words drifting over the tumult of the crowd, Rylen had to stifle a scoff. His eyebrows furrowed in a mean glare at the swordsman. He did not like the we in Snow's statement one bit.
"You sure as hell made 'em wait long enough." Rylen spat, calling out to Snow over the din of a crowd roaring for blood. Really, it may have been mere seconds from the expected start of the match, but Rylen clearly seemed like the type to be easily rubbed the wrong way.
But in the next moment he lifted his eyebrows and his expression became indifferent. He took a large step forward with his left foot, sinking into a stance with his legs spread wide and his knees bent. He lowered his right hand down and out to his side at waist level, his fingers outstretched and his palm upturned. His head tilted slightly forward as his eyes gave Snow a quick once-over.
Two swords and a spear... Rylen thought, obviously not all too familiar with the proper names for Snow's weaponry. I don't think he'll like me right in his face. He pondered if Snow had a particular weakness for extreme close-quarters combat. Judging by the reach of his weapons and the fact that both the halberd and the dual sword style occupied both of his hands, Rylen thought it hinted that Snow would not be so comfortable at punching and grappling range. Now, getting in that range was a battle in and of itself.
With that brief assessment, Rylen felt as ready as he needed to be. Miraculously, his eyes lit up jubilantly and his mouth cracked in a roguish grin. It would be difficult to tell given his hood, but upon closer inspection Rylen's face would appear to have a distinct wolfish lean to it.
Let's go. Suddenly, his right hand ignited, completely engulfed in a fire that looked like an oversize candle flame flickering and dancing in the wind. The fire streamed outward from his wrist as if the sleeve of his hooded sweatshirt had become a flamethrower, and his hand was the pilot light.
And with that and a predatory grin plastered across his face, Rylen charged forward. He kept his arms close to his body as his legs carried him in a sprint that would bring him up to a respectable 15 mph or so. Fast enough to cover the distance quickly, but not so fast it gave Snow or Rylen himself little or no chance to react on a second-to-second basis.
If allowed to advance unhindered, halfway across the distance between them Rylen would swerve deftly to his own right a step. Two-thirds of the way to Snow, Rylen would then swerve to his own left two steps, now putting him slightly to Snow's right. His feet skidded and screeched across the marbled floor with each rapid change in his vector. And then he closed in on Snow in his final stretch in the blink of an eye. Hopefully Snow didn't blink.
Rylen skidded to a halt that would bring him just outside of the range of Snow's closest blade, his own left foot and arm forward. Then with a deceptive glint in his eye, Rylen raised his right arm to quickly point the palm of his flaming right hand at Snow's face, his fingers spread out. The crowd went wild and--!
Nothing happened. No explosion, no flaming projectile, no juke to allow him to close the distance. Apparently it was the end of his turn, and he had used up all of his action points! Snow's turn.
[ Ignition Lv. 1 ]
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Posted: Wed Jun 09, 2010 5:31 pm
Well, so much for being friendly.
The swordsman ignored the random outburst that was spat out of Rylen's mouth, his attention already focused on a plan to try and keep himself alive for the next five to ten minutes...give or take, for human error. Shortening his breath to start up his adrenaline, the air surrounding the swordsman began to cool down in temperature, his breath giving off slight misty fumes as if he was cooped up in a freezer for some time. Not bothering to wonder what ability Rylen has up his sleeves - as it was a pointless thing to think about until the foe reveals it to him - the swordsman concentrated on what he can do.
Or at least, prepare himself for a possible rush due to Rylen's stance. But how woul-
The unexpected ignition on the foe's hand caused the swordsman's face to express a moment of surprise, followed by a distortion into one of utter distaste, realizing what ability the foe has.
Oh no you didn't.
Watching as Rylen charged forward to close the distance between the two, the swordsman quickly shifted more of his weight from his left foot onto his right foot to evenly balance his weight, while raising both tips of his blades up from the ground somewhat to prepare for the incoming clash. Pretty sure that Rylen would take the fight up close and personal, the only problem the swordsman has is what type of attack Rylen would use against him. After all, having fought a bunch of fire users in the past...each had their own signature trademark or some personal habit in using fire. Some people liked to make close range combat explosively hot, while others blasted out fireballs like it was armageddon all over again.
There was even one time when the swordsman fought against someone who basically made a fire armor around himself. Made it damn impossible to get close to the b*****d but...
He narrowed his gaze on Rylen.
...Looks like the foe leans more towards the up-close-and-personal kind. Not exactly what he was looking forward to, but...
Ah well. It's time to get burned.
Timing Rylen's running charge to ready a counterstrike, the swordsman didn't try to follow Rylen's swerves and feints with utter care. Since the foe was coming towards him, all the swordsman needed to be concerned about was whether Rylen would veer to his left side, or his right side in a potential pass-by attack. While the front is also a potential area to try, the swordsman highly doubted that Rylen would try to run into his blades in a foolish gesture.
But, seeing as Rylen was coming slightly more to the swordsman's own right in those final seconds, he readied himself for the incoming attack.
3, 2, 1..
The swordsman pushed off with his left foot, suddenly dashing forward himself at Rylen's incoming presence as he brought the right blade to lash outwards towards the skidding...skidding...
Skidding? Oh...son of a-
It was too late for the swordsman to pull his own counterstrike back. Already in motion, the sharp edge of his right blade would careen up towards Rylen's left torso as the swordsman attempted to dash past Rylen's left flank. Holding his left blade at bay to his own respective left, while the swordsman tried a pass by, the left blade would be aimed lower - aimed for Rylen's left leg and dragged across in a slicing motion as follow-up should the first strike prove unsuccessful. Regardless if successful or not, there would be no time for the swordsman to check his counterstrike, for he would be making a mad dash directly away from the foe in the meantime with his hit-and-run tactic.
No way in hell is he going to stick around for the flames to torch him all over again!
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Posted: Wed Jun 09, 2010 6:40 pm
As Rylen passed the point of no return in his charge, one single thought crossed his mind. Whatever came of it, his reaction needed to be as keen as the fine, ultra-sharp edges of Snow's katana. If not, he would suffer heavy consequences.
So whether it spoke of his experience or his arrogance, Rylen charged in without hesitation. Snow wisely timed his counter in an attempt to intercept Rylen, perhaps aiming to catch him off guard. But by aiming to come to a halt right out of Snow's initial range, Rylen gave himself a tiny window of time to recognize and respond to Snow's sudden movement forward.
And Rylen spent all of his fighting career learning how to take the most advantage out of those tiny windows of opportunity, lest he get run through.
Fortunately, Rylen's left arm was in an easy position to defend his torso from the way he kept it close to his body in his sprint. But defending himself against the sword strike ultimately meant sacrificing his arm, right?
SHHHINK!!
The honed edge of the katana would slice across Rylen's forearm, tearing through the sleeve of his sweatshirt and generating an oddly metallic ring. Perfectly concealed beneath the long sleeve of his sweatshirt before, Rylen's forearm bracer provided him all the protection he needed in that moment. Snow's katana hit solidly, but by twisting his elbow with the flow of the impact Rylen was able to deflect Snow's sword off to his own left harmlessly. The bracer itself received quite the scratch, but Rylen's technique spared him the kind of direct hit that might have sundered the thin but sturdy plate of metal.
But all of that came automatically for Rylen, as easy and thoughtless as breathing thanks to endless hours of rigorous practice as with any fighter in the tournament. The real challenge came next, and it required all of his timing and focus.
With Snow moving to pass him while bringing his second sword around for a low strike, Rylen had seemingly two options: take the hit, or try and get out of dodge--and probably take a glancing cut for all his best efforts to dodge anyway. But Rylen had one advantage he could use against Snow in that split second of contact, and he intended to use it.
By coming to a stop, Rylen had effectively rooted himself in the ground. This gave him a stable platform to launch an immediate, intercepting attack. Concurrently with his forearm block, Rylen took a jolting step forward with his right foot--yes, forward. His body twisted around to his own left, which helped to both deflect Snow's first sword and bring Rylen's right side around quickly.
Rylen precisely aimed to plant his right foot between Snow's as he spun around, sinking back into his rooted stance. This would bring his right side in-line to slam into Snow, the menacing flame of his right hand eager to singe the swordsman's flesh. But it didn't. He didn't even try it.
Instead Rylen aimed a right elbow strike for Snow's torso, leading his target a bit to account for Snow's movement. By putting his right foot in between Snow's and shifting all his body weight forward into his elbow strike, it would be clear Rylen meant to knock Snow sideways off his feet--or at least off course in his dash.
Rylen's change in position would also help to bring his leg abruptly out of line of Snow's sword, but that was an iffy prospect. If all went well and the elbow strike landed, all of Rylen's weight and power would go into throwing Snow violently off-balance while inflicting the damage of a hard, pointed elbow strike. And if Snow was thrown off balance, it was possible he would entirely miss with his second sword as he stumbled away. But it was no certainty.
If anything, it was just as likely Rylen could receive at least a shallow slicing wound somewhere on his leg. But, Snow would have a tiny window to inflict any kind of real damage before being knocked off his feet. Yes, for Rylen the fight was all about those tiny little windows.
[ Ignition Lv. 2 ]
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Posted: Thu Jun 10, 2010 8:46 am
The swordsman didn't have to look to know that Rylen had some armor hidden in those clothing of his. The firm resistance that can only come from armor was surely felt on his right blade as the swordsman rushed the pass-by, getting more intel on the foe at hand.
As the deflected attack trailed off into the air, the swordsman naturally pulled his right arm back to withdraw the motion. With a deft curl of his arm though, the blade would arch up and over his right shoulder as it landed behind the swordsman's back --
Returning it into another prepped attack for use. It was a technique that borrowed some concepts from the Dao weapon, using the arm to have the sword make loops around the person's head, providing a natural flowing defense/offense that is repeatable during combat. In this case the swordsman simply cocked the weapon behind him, providing protection for his back while he continued his motion past Rylen.
Seeing Rylen twist out of the corner of his eye while he dashed by, the swordsman could roughly guess what the foe was planning to do; bring the fire to bear, and blast him in the pass-by.
One reason why he needs to whittle down the foe's mobility in some shape or form. So, elevating the handle of his left blade to be held trailing behind his left torso and keeping the tip of the weapon pointed down by some angle to his respective left, the swordsman planned to use the length of his weapon to injure Rylen's leg... when an unexpected opportunity came in.
The foe planted his right foot between the swordsman's own.
This was something that the swordsman didn't hesitate to take action on, the sharp edge of his weapon immediately striking with force towards Rylen's right leg, just slightly above the knee cap joint. Dragging the blade upward with his left hand, the sharp edge would cut - and widen the wound - into one of the areas that is most likely to have little to no armor.
For what reason Rylen performed such an act, the swordsman couldn't guess. All he know for certain, as he was then knocked aside by a vicious blow from the left, was the sharp stinging sensation that resonated from his left arm and over the muscles that buffered the elbow strike to some extent.
No fireballs.
No being torched on the spot. Why?
The swordsman didn't like the thought, alerted by this paradox. But with no time to spare, he can only assume that Rylen is prepping something big as a follow-up to blast at the swordsman.
Anchoring his weight down onto his right foot to regain his balance, the swordsman would quickly drag the left blade back towards himself as he whirled in a counter-clockwise motion to face Rylen with a pained look on his face - causing the weapon to be dragged across the area and widening any potential wounds he might have inflicted. Keeping the left blade pointed at Rylen to thwart off any potential rushes should the attack be foiled by some armor, his grip would tighten on his right blade, the weapon held behind his back in a readied form of strike. If successful in landing a blow that may hamper Rylen's movement, the swordsman would take that time to increase the distance between the two and keep himself out of harms way, should the chance arise.
Otherwise, the swordsman was bracing himself for an immediate counter from the feisty foe.
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Posted: Thu Jun 10, 2010 3:51 pm
Now, Rylen could be reckless. He knew that well enough about himself to never bother with denying it. He knew getting so close to Snow had put him in a dangerous spot, especially when Snow had his left arm poised to strike as he passed.
But Rylen was not so stupid or inept. Any contact from Snow's blade would have to come at slightly an odd angle, given that Rylen's leg would be almost underneath Snow and Snow was in the process of dashing forward. Plus right in tandem with his right foot came his elbow strike, angled to send Snow skittering off course. The elbow strike was a full body action aimed more to push Snow forcefully away from the side than to inflict damage, and it would not leave Rylen completely defenseless. The placement of his right foot had meant Rylen had positioned himself to send all of his weight crashing into Snow's center of balance at an angle while Snow was less stable in his movement--a recipe for disaster for the swordsman.
Rylen would not get away unscathed for his efforts. The blade bit into his thigh, and the half-wolf grit his teeth in a low growl as his entire body tensed. Pain flared up through his leg to his core and he pushed hard on his right elbow out of reflex. Given the angle he would have enough leverage to forcefully shove Snow aside, or possibly send him sprawling to the ground if he tried to abruptly stop moving, resist the elbow and go for a wider, deeper slicing wound.
With Rylen's penchant for close-quarters combat, there was simply no other way around it. He had to dance on a bed of knives to even get the chance at striking Snow. He just needed to make sure he made all his actions counted, defending himself with every attack and attacking from every defense. He had to continue playing that deadly game of precise timing and dexterity or he would be finished.
As he sent Snow either stumbling or sprawling away, he did nothing to pursue the swordsman. He quickly shifted his right leg a half-step to the left and away from Snow's blade after he had given Snow one last, forceful shove with his elbow. Then he took a quick retreating step back, practically dragging his right foot on the ground while keeping it forward.
It gave him a second of breathing room, which seemed like a small eternity in the midst of a fight. He kept his crimson eyes locked on Snow in a cold glare as he internally assessed the extent of damage to his leg. A nice, slicing wound, but not as deep as Snow would have liked. Still, the pain and the slight damage to the muscle would hinder his mobility a bit. Each time he stepped on it he would receive a jolt of screaming pain, but it could more or less still function as needed.
So he wants to take out my legs first. Rylen thought, intrigued. It did make sense, and he could not begrudge the swordsman for it. Leave Rylen helpless like a stick in the mud, then take full advantage of the greater range provided by his swords to dice the half-wolf to pieces at his leisure.
Rylen took another shifting step back, and then another, always keeping his right foot forward as it slid across the marble floor as if in protest to being lifted. His face never betrayed his thoughts or his pain, however. Rylen glanced over to Snow's halberd for a brief moment, which was now off to his right and Snow's left given their change in positions. Did he even intend to use that thing?
No matter. The swordsman seemed more intent on defending himself in the event of an immediate counter despite the space Rylen had created. In the likely event that the swordsman did not advance immediately, Rylen lowered his right hand down by the wound at on his leg while keeping his left forearm out in front of his body.
And then he shoved his right hand over the wound, hissing audibly as his flesh sizzled and burned. He kept his hand over the wound for a good few seconds when his leg began to tremble a bit and he lifted his hand away with a guttural growl. He let out a few panting breaths as he did, and he did not even bother to look down to see the results. He had effectively cauterized the wound to prevent further bleeding, and in an effort to help deaden the nerves and tissue around the wound.
His right arm came up before him as he quickly patted out any lingering flames with his left hand. Then he brought it, too, up to his guard around his midsection. And then apparently he had run out of action points again!! He waited in his right-forward stance, his body somewhere between squared and profile, the heels of his sneakers lifting off the marbled floor. The distance he had created in both attacking Snow and his movement had put him at least a good three steps out of striking range for the swords, which was a distance he was apparently going to leave Snow to cover for the moment.
Now floating out in front of him, the flame on his hand had begun to grow visibly brighter, and the air around it would feel noticeably hotter. It swayed like the head of a cobra poised to strike, and Rylen waited.
[ Ignition Lv. 3 ]
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Posted: Thu Jun 10, 2010 5:22 pm
 And the crowd goes wild with mixed feelings!
"Snow! Snow! Snow! - Snow! Snow! Snow! - Snow! Snow! Snow!""Ry-len! Ry-len! Ry-len! --- Ry-len! Ry-len! Ry-len! --- Ry-len! Ry-len! Ry-len!"
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Posted: Fri Jun 11, 2010 9:59 am
The swordsman flexed his arms. The dull throbbing pain continued to thump on the area where Rylen made impact, feeling sore as if from a tiring workout, but it wasn't something that would have a drastic affect on his performance. His gaze continued to focus on Rylen's condition, and the results were...
"..Tsk."
Not good. Hoping to at least deal a blow that would hinder Rylen's movements, it seemed that the injury he delivered was not enough to dig into any vital muscle or tendons. A frustrating end, actually, despite the swordsman's luck in not taking a critical blow himself. Eyes that show some brief signs of irritation passed over the swordsman's face as he then focused on the foe's ever growing flames - a sure sign that it's anything but idle for the next encounter.
He'll need to do something similar to counteract it quickly.
The swordsman returned his blades back to their original positions once he saw Rylen retreat, relaxing his pose and holding both blades in front of him, like he did just before the fight. He shifted his stance into a right side stance, raising the tip of his right blade to point at Rylen's throat, the other blade held pointing at his torso. Using his toes to slide on the ground, the swordsman inched his footing forward, slowly closing the distance between the two while keeping a steady stance against Rylen, who was busy cauterizing the wound he had inflicted to stop the bleeding.
The guy's pretty good, the swordsman thought.
Another low breath escaped from the swordsman's lips as his mind slowly dampened the noise from the incessant cheering from the crowd. Concentrating, narrowing down all his attention towards the fighter in front of him. Tuning out the masses, heightening his senses...
Listening to what matters the most.
Focus on the breathing.
Inhale.
Exhale.
The thumping of his heart ringing in his ears.
The soft cold caress of air starting to tickle his exposed skin, sharpening his touch, keeping it honed like a readied blade.
The focus of his energy spreading out from his body, condensing, constraining around his being...
".."
Unlike Rylen's display of flames, the swordsman's energy was less noticeable and takes time to focus, a faint hue of blue starting to spread and permeate around his immediate surroundings. The temperature surrounding him began to plummet to a colder degree. In a vague expression of his powers, his blades showed signs of frost that seemed to glisten sharply under the sunlight. If Rylen hasn't make his move yet, the swordsman would continue to inch ever so closer until Rylen is three steps out of his blade's striking range.
Not a bad deal actually - if the flame starts to fly, the swordsman is far away enough to have some time to react. And as whether the swordsman is planning to go on the offensive instead, his action points could only go so far before needing the time to recharge.
Goddamn. If only he had more action points for use.
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Posted: Sat Jun 12, 2010 1:21 am
Suffice it all to say, Rylen was definitely going to increase his action point pool when he next leveled up. But that was assuming he gained the requisite amount of experience points upon defeating Snow. At this point in the fight, that was certainly no easy prospect. They had traded blow for blow, and in Rylen's opinion Snow had come out the better of the two--if only because Snow's attack had actually drawn blood. It easily could have been much worse, and it proved that Snow handled his katana with a tremendous amount of expertise.
Rylen's jaw slackened, but that would be the only sign that he had any sort of hesitation regarding what to do next. Unlike Snow's penchant for intelligent tactical analysis, Rylen tended to plan ahead no further than a few seconds at a time. It gave him the advantage of being able to react and adapt quickly in the midst of a heated fight, but it also meant he was not so adept at forming strategies that could carry him through that fight. If anything, their fight had become one of instinct versus intellect, and Rylen was not so sure he could come out on top.
But, to hell with that line of defeatist thinking, he would say. He did not linger on it for a minute, and instead reverted back to his original plan of keeping the pressure on Snow until he could find an opening.
Snow's swords presented quite a problem, providing the swordsman both superior reach and plenty of options when it came to offense and defense. Together they presented quite the overwhelming obstacle, so Rylen decided there was no point in holding back any longer. Unless he really liked getting sliced, which he didn't. The mere thought of it made him cringe as he recalled what it felt like to have his thigh split open. Not again, he hoped.
The dual roars of the divergent crowd calling both his name and his opponent's name only compounded the half-wolf's headache, which was enough to distract him from his own thoughts. Hell, even if he wanted to form some kind of plan, he would not be able to focus long enough to get past Step 1 with all the insufferable racket going on around him. It really did not help that he had missed so much sleep the night before. The crowd would be doing him a favor by not calling his name. He only needed the support of one person, and he knew he had that. Everything else was just... bothersome. With a low groan he lumbered forward and back into the fray.
He took a step forward on his left foot, sinking back into his stance with a slight wince. He could tell already the numbing sensation in his right leg would hinder his mobility a bit. If he had not gone through the trouble of cauterizing the wound, he would have to spend the match limping towards Snow. That would have made a great sight for the crowds. Too bad Rylen was not too intent on delivering a performance as making it through the first round victorious.
So close... He thought, crimson eyes fixed on Snow in a hypnotic trance as the swordsman approached. If Rylen noticed the subtle change in Snow's aura or the shimmer of his blades, he made no indication of it. As Snow reached the aforementioned three steps out of striking range, Rylen bobbed to his right a step swiftly, his body becoming a momentary blur. Well within the limits of a human, but certainly fast.
Then his left foot came forward again, his left arm whipping around in a semi-circle in front of his chest faster than his body could move. And then a ball of fire rushed in to give Snow a sweet kiss on the lips!
It happened as quickly as Rylen could manage it, using the motion of his left hand to obscure the fireball launched from his right at a speed a little under that of the average pitcher's fast ball.Quote: [ Fire Starter ] - Rylen hurls a fist-sized ball of fire that hits with the force of a light punch or jab. The fire ball burns on contact with a solid surface or object, spraying out burning flames randomly in a 6-inch radius from the point of impact. One fire ball can cause a small, 1-inch wide second degree burn on exposed skin at the point of impact. The flames can light clothing on fire, but are put out easily enough with a few pats or the good ol' stop, drop and roll method. Rylen can launch as many projectiles at once equal to his Ignition/Twin Ignition charge level. However, using any amount over 1 will reduce his charge level by 1. Ex. He has Ignition Lv. 2 and throws two Fire Starters. Next post, he has Ignition Lv. 1.
Whether it landed or not, Rylen was light on the balls of his feet, ready to make another immediate step in practically any direction. Hell, even a miss would mean Snow would have to take a split second to react, most likely turning his head away out of instinct. With Rylen now a little over one step out of Snow's striking range, that could give him the opportunity to close the distance.
It all depended on how Snow reacted, because if anything Rylen had made a rather poignant point with his technique: he had options when it came to ranged combat. So where would Snow really want Rylen in terms of range, and would the swordsman be able to keep the half-wolf there?
[ Ignition Lv. 4 ]
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Posted: Sat Jun 12, 2010 12:35 pm
Fire is always a malleable element that the swordsman awed, and despised at the same time. It was a type of...raw force that emulates the flexibility of water and gas at the same time - while being able to scorch anything it comes into contact with. It doesn't require some outside source or supply - other than air apparently - and it is relatively easy to conjure based on the swordsman's past observations and encounters with fire users.
No apparent limit.
Unfathomable strength in magnitude, and able to mold into anything the user wishes it to be. The swordsman knew the fire element pretty well, despite its paradoxical contradiction against his own element. As often quoted that people who play too close to fire gets burned, the swordsman paid the price much too often for developing ways to counter against fire.
Rylen did not betray the swordsman's expectations. As he watches the foe take action to initiate the next encounter, the large motion Rylen was making foretold the swordsman of an imminent attack approaching. Having anticipated that Rylen would be using the flames for this next showdown, a speeding fireball careening towards the swordsman's face only sparked the catalyst of what he had already planned to do when he closed in enough.
Pushing off his left foot in reaction, the swordsman swiftly took a right side step somewhat forward to move out of the flames burning touch. He kept his body oriented to face Rylen as he performed the side step; the right arm quickly raised halfway as if using his sleeve on the semi-flame resistant longcoat to shade the searing light from the flame. This leaves the right blade to be poised for a quick strike from above, about ready to crash down onto the foe for a dangerous blow.
Rylen would be just in range for the tip of the blade to strike its mark near Rylen's left clavicle bone - the top bone connecting the shoulder to the central chest... a common area where a swordsman like him would aim for, as the right blade came down swiftly for the strike. The left blade would be held a bit further back near the swordsman's left waist, aimed for Rylen's torso to dissuade a hopeful rush at the swordsman.
Meanwhile, an orb would materialize close to the swordsman's presence, floating lazily around him in an idle state.
Orb - 1
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Posted: Sat Jun 12, 2010 1:46 pm
Snow expertly dodged the fireball, and though Rylen had hopes for it, he expected no less from the swordsman. A true swordsman focused as much on the fundamentals of his footwork as his skill with the sword, and Snow was no slouch in either. The step also allowed Snow to barely bridge the gap between the two fighters and deliver his own attack in a hasty retaliation.
Rylen saw the glint of steel flashing towards him, and his heart skipped a beat. It only took one single, solitary cut in the blink of an eye to take a life. Not that Snow was aiming to do so, but Rylen was not about to take any strike too lightly when he did not have too many offensive options himself. Stepping in would only bring him nicely into the range of Snow's other katana well before he could reach Snow's body with his arms. It would seem his only real option was to back away and try again.
Or stand his ground rigidly.
As Snow's katana sliced through the air, Rylen's body tensed and his left arm swung up. He winced in pain only a moment later as the tip of Snow's katana bit into the area over his clavicle before the bracer of his forearm slammed against it from beneath, pushing it hard away and to Snow's right. The cut was shallow, as Rylen blocked the katana just in the nick of time. But it also meant Rylen could not hope to try and keep up with the twin swords forever, because it only took one little mistake, lasting only a fraction of a second, for Snow to put the half-wolf out of commission.
Rylen's left foot surged forward, widening his stance considerably as his body dipped low. Right as he displaced Snow's blade his brace slide down its length, keeping it on the outside. His left hand shot out with the step, reaching precariously for Snow's right wrist. He leaned forward into the grasp, further lowering his body and leaning forward as much as possible while still maintaining some semblance of balance. He did his best to keep his torso as far away from Snow's left sword as possible, and after blocking Snow's strike his body became loose again and he lifted the heels of his feet.
If all went perfectly, Rylen went for a grip placing his palm over the the back of Snow's right hand and wrist. He would simultaneously attempt to dig the quarter-inch, bone-like nail of his thumb hard into the underside of Snow's wrist to elicit both pain and strengthen his grip. Most of all, though, Rylen would twist his arm to his right. If he had a good grip, this would jerk Snow's wrist, the overload of pain meant to try and disarm the swordsman while the angle of Snow's wrist would keep his sword otherwise at bay. It also brought the back of Rylen's forearm, and thus his bracer, angled more to his right.
And as much as Rylen wanted to achieve the grip, it was really all subsidiary. As he went for the grip, he lifted his right palm to about chest level angled to point at Snow's right shoulder area. He fired another Fire Starter at that short range, and a solid grip would only allow it to be that much more accurate as he kept Snow's arm, and thus shoulder, pinned. But even without the grip, the proximity of the two fighters allowed even less room for a proper reaction.
Rylen put his cards on the table with this attack, because he knew as much as he tried to avoid it the second blade would be coming in with a taste for blood. In the heat of the moment, Rylen did not appear to notice the orb floating around Snow. He had nearly all of his focus now on that second blade, assuming he kept the first at bay in some manner.
[ Ignition Lv. 5 ]
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