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Description: 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.

[ The Real Intro Music. ]

Joseph's opponent, REYEN TARGAWYN was already on the stage. His dress was standard, for him: a black outfit of loose cloth, made in a way so as not to get in the way of movements, but of a rather fine cut. What a nobleman would wear to work out, one might call it. He wore a thick belt of fine leather, which supported an elegant sheathed sword on the left and two stilettos on the right. Boots of the same supple material rested around his feet, pants over the top of them in the fashion of Shadash. Poking out from his sleeves were gauntlets, of a similar but darker leather. And resting atop his dark mane of hair was a black fedora. The crowd roared and Reyen drew his sword, sunlight glinting off of the deadly curves.

Competitors often spoke of the charm and allure of the crowd, cheering them onto victory. While Rey could see where they were coming from, the assembled mass of smelly people loudly eating and proclaiming did very little for him, sides a slight push towards a migraine.
Rey Tapped Mana.
The familiar cooling feeling, as if being draped completely in a wet cloak, over took him, clearing his head of such bothersome things as distractions. This clarity of mind was a key part of what made Practitioners like Rey so deadly; this combat oriented focus. Many had tried to use the clarity of Mana for non-combat purposes, but it had always failed; Mana seemed destined for war.
With an uncharactericstic shout, Reyen charged, the tapped Mana pushing through his legs, giving them strength and dexterity. The heat of the moment must have been interfering with his normal cognitive judgement, for, with a practiced grace he did the most obvious thing possible. He drew his sword. Sunlight danced on the surface, which seemed to shimmer in the mid day heat. Now, for your average person, drawing a sword while dashing above their top speed would be a tad challenging, but for Rey, the blade slid freely with the ease of a drifting cloud. He held the blade like a lance for the few seconds it took to cross the 25 yards, before raising it closer to head level. He was almost at his foe now, crouched slightly in a sort of hunched over sprint. As he came just within range, his sword lashed out, aiming to stab despite it's primarily slashing nature, at the man's face, and he would aim for this face, and indeed orient himself towards it, no matter it's position. It was, for all intents and purposes, a feint, and not a very good one at that. One step back would negate the "blow" entirely, and the whole move was ridiculously vulnerable. A part of Rey's brain recognized this, but he was, after all, in the heat of the moment. As he pulled back from the blow-- he had slowed down before making it, of course-- a dagger fell into his left hand, in the "ice pick" style grip, and the Practitioner pivoted, left hand forward, right arm hovering at shoulder level, blade tip pointed, always, at his opponent.


[ The distance between our characters was decided upon in MSN ]

Reyen saw the man charging him, and plans changed, as they often do. A thief quickly learns to adapt to changes in situation, and combat was no different. The thief smiled. Rey's right hand slipped free of the sword's red wrapped hilt, exposing an empty palm, and the Practitioner Pushed. External uses of Mana were always draining, and this was no different. But, what he was pushing was not very heavy, and he was over compensating a bit to deal with the area. He Pushed the sword and the cloak, aiming for a wide area. The sword was light, roughly 4 pounds and, with the mass of the cloak, he expected roughly ten pounds of material to move, over a wide area. The result was the jacket, recently removed from Joseph flying along side the elegant blade. Now onto the guy trying to grab him.
Rey saw the grab coming, and waited. He waited until just the right moment, then struck out like some sort of really fast snake. First his empty right hand grabbed his opponent's left. He twisted to the right, Mana speeding up both his strike and his twist. The pain would be harsh and immediate, and there was a high chance of breaking the wrist/arm in a number of ways Rey wasn't entirely sure about. What he did know was that it hurt like hell, and it was a hell of a way to immobilize it. Once the grip was established, the left hand, wielding the dagger, which had been flipped into a traditional grip, whipped forward into the back of his foe's armpit, then slipped back, aiming to slice through and create a hell of a lot of blood.
Mana: 150/160.
I'm counting 2 for the muscle enhancements of the fight and the rest for the spread out push. ]

The double shot of energy was quite effective. The Practitioner was pushed, fine boots sliding against the polished floor, the intended 4 feet. "Kinetc energy, eh? That's my specialty." He smiled. "As for touching you, I'd like to see you stop me." Now, Rey was staring down Joseph, four feet away, followed by Rey's sword and Joseph's jacket. The thief didn't move, at least not in attack. Rather, he seemingly spawned another dagger into his right hand, in a traditional grip, and flipped his left one back into a reverse grip, seemingly trying to emulated the stance he had with his sword. He kept the four feet, feeling it comfortable for what he was trying to do.
Mana: 150/160.

Rey let the distance change between them, nonchalantly. "Oh, really? That's odd, because, from where I'm standing, you're really close to a loss." The daggers disappeared back from whence they came, and Mana channels through special points of the body; the center of the chest, the forearms, and the thighs. As such, Rey lowered his right hand in font of him, clasping his left hand around his right forearm. He began pushing and pulling, kneading the mana in his hand, focusing, condensing, and energizing it. The mass of Mana was steadily growing in thermal and electrical energy, and slowly growing from a pinpoint to a sphere. At this point, it was still invisible.
Mana: 150/160. Charge: 1/2.
[ The mana cost for Sonér will be taken next turn, if it's finished. If it's completely canceled, I'll take half of it's cost for the one turn of charging. ]

"Really?" Reyen said, still smiling. Banter like this took almost none of his concentration. It was like breathing. "If someone, like yourself, weren't rushing me, I'd assume they were intelligent, but I doubt that's the same for you." Insults were easy, cheap, and made a hell of a lot of impact in an enemy unprepared for them. Meanwhile Sonér was almost done. . .
Mana: 100/160. Charge 2/2.

[ Post Music ]
As the man charged at him, arms crossed like some kinda cultist, Reyen sighed. Oh boy, another cultist. Rey took a deep breath, and closed his eyes momentarily. His teachings flew into his mind, told by the then unbeatable Practitioner Adelph Flamestar. Relax everything that matters. Systematically, Reyen loosened his muscles; chest, arms legs, head, etc. His eyes popped open, orbs blazing. Observe your foe. Rey took a reevaluating look at his enemy, his stance, his everything. The claws looked too thick to puncture, even by his stilettos, and he doubted the ability to dash to a side and abuse the limited vision offered by the claws. Remember his actions. Joseph seemed to be a rather erratic fighter. That meant he had no plan, and was winging it, just like Rey. It also could signal him not being used to his powers or not having a firm grasp on them. All of his abilities he had seen had been kinetic, something Reyen was very comfortable with. The exception was that fire breath trick. While Rey acknowledged that alchemical and light tricks could give the same effect, he didn't think his enemy was smart enough to use such a ploy. Which meant he likely had fire to deal with. Oh well, nothing for it. And his foe was engaging in dialogue. Most people lost some of their concentration when they were interacting with others; very few did it instinctively like Reyen, and he had been trained. Another adage popped to mind, this one from Vasher, a man Rey had not thought of in years. Use what you've got.
"More important than me? If you mattered anything to anyone, I might be offended."
He only had one shot at this, and his opponent had some ability ready. Reyen's timing had to be perfect, and it was. He fell into a crouch, on the balls of his feet, with the soles pointed mostly behind him. He positioned his hands, left slightly forward, and waited a half second. His enemy was now two feet away, and the Practitioner Pushed from his feet.
He had put one hundred and fifty pounds of pressure into each of his feet, for a combined pushing power of thee hundred pounds. Reyen only weighed around 180 and was hoping to at least knock his foe down if the attack was blocked. The flight would be short and fast, his left hand would grab onto and push on the gauntlets, keeping them pinned to the man's chest. Meanwhile, as soon as he lifted off, so to speak, the Practitioner would snap his fingers, initiating a Mana spark, and revealing the ever changing mass of Mana in his right hand. The mass was silver, and flickered like some sort of abstract flame. It carried a lot of energy, thermal, electrical, light- it was too bright to look at directly- and kinetic. The result would be a very badly wounded lower chest/stomach of his opponent. Sonér was, after all, aimed below those claws of his. It likely wouldn't kill him, directly, but it sure as hell would hurt. "This is what I like to call Sonér."
As he flew, a thought entered his mind: I just wasted a hell of a lot of Mana. ********.
Mana: 70/160