|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Sun Jun 06, 2010 8:35 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.
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Jun 07, 2010 7:39 am
Quote:
"The Ishimaru, I think, knew they were doomed. But where another clan would surrender to despair, the Ishimaru fought back with even greater strength. They made Konoha fight for every inch of land. In my life, I have never seen anything like it.
They would weep, they would pray, they would say goodbye to their loved ones, then throw themselves without fear or hesitation at the very face of death itself. Never surrendering. No one who saw them fighting against the inevitable could help but be moved to tears by their courage. Their stubborn nobility.
When they ran out of chakra, they used seals. When they ran out of seals, they used knives and sticks and bare hands. They were magnificent. I only hope that when it is my time, I may die with half as much dignity as I saw in their eyes at the end.
They did this for two years. They never ran out of courage. But in the end, they ran out of time."
-Anonymous ninja
Whoever the ******** said that, never met Hoshiko. This particular Ishimaru managed to escape the ethnic cleansing of her clan, but didn't seem to carry on many of their 'noble' traits. This little lovely lady had all the courage one would expect, but seemed to be lacking on the manners. The respect. Anything one might consider a good side or conscience. In it's place was little more than a street urchin. A thug. A tom boy. Perhaps it was this sort of spirit and personality that kept her alive in the wake of death that her clan left. But let's just get on with the present... The woman's singular outline stood out, looming in the dark entrance to the main arena. With the sun already starting it slow descent, her figure was far too dark to discern anything worthwhile. Hair cropped short, with tufts sticking out every which way. Even from a distance, her strong emerald eyes were enough to draw attention. A plain, worn out cloak hid most of the kunoichi, the fabric coming down a little past her knees. Hiding her torso completely. Her stern gaze sweeping over the castle before approaching. "Hmph." She exhaled, a cloud of light blue smoke being puffed out of her nostrils like a cartoonish raging bull. The girls' right drifts up, gripping the blunt and pulling it from her lips for a moment. "I feel like a slab of butter atop a big ol' pile of flapjacks." And with that, the blunt was returned to it's former place just long enough for one last toke before the ninja would toss it to the ground. "Yeaaaahhhhh...." To her credit, the woman still looked well composed, if a little otherworldly. Strong and beautiful features offset by a sort of childish like tomboy style. Hair cut short and feathered, giving a wild appearance. This notion only deepened by the erratic and careless wrapping of cloth around her upper head. Sighing to herself, Hoshiko would pluck a single senbon from her hip and stick it between her teeth, idling prodding at it with her tongue. The woman'd come here for a reason, you see. Rumors spread like wildfire 'round Gaia, one of which that'd peeked her interest. See, this tournament was going places. Had some names to it, it did. And for someone who wanted a bit of the high life, where better to go looking? She wanted to be a real RocknRolla. Archie People ask the question... what's a RocknRolla? And I tell 'em - it's not about drums, drugs, and hospital drips, oh no. There's more there than that, my friend. We all like a bit of the good life - some the money, some the drugs, other the sex game, the glamour, or the fame. But a RocknRolla, oh, he's different. Why? Because a real RocknRolla wants the ******** lot.
|
|
|
|
|
|
The Female of the Species
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Jun 07, 2010 11:00 am
Sad eyes were the first glint of light revealing his presence before his silhouette transformed from shadow to light, dimming from a blazing countenance of contrast to a still-life, almost like a painting. His figure seemed wistful and his features delicate, every motion like some exotic creature from the primal womb of nature, like a living tribute to Murasaki's Genji.
His formal robes appeared as a hybrid of yukata and ceremonial kenjutsu, the smooth flowing hakama concealing god only knows what in its folds, making it difficult to read his foot work. The sheen of the silk had an unusual pallor, the patterns psychedelic and almost living - a true testament to the art of Japanese embroidery.
He speaks in a tone that is neither monotone nor emotional, but smooth and crisp, "Do you prefer our conflict begin with the implements of war?"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Jun 07, 2010 1:48 pm
Well, ******** opponent had shown, his appearance at the other end of the stadium snagging the blazed fighter's attention. Bloodied eyes regarded the calm and collected man as he made his way to the center of what was to serve as a ring. Ever a mask of calm and collected passiveness. He was everything that fuedal Japan represented. A way of existing that was far and apart from who Hoshiko was, regardless of her nationality. Begrudgingly, Hoshiko would start her trot towards the center. Her footsteps light and laidback. Not born out of tireless restraint and calm, but more due to a lack of involvement in the situation. As if she were bored. Each foot made a soft thump on the, currently, unknown material of the floor. No shoes for this girl, who had opted instead for the standard martial wrappings to help support her ankles. The cloak that'd once hid most of the kunoichi's figure would be tossed aside before she had reached 10 feet of the man. And as the tattered brown cloth was thrown off, a surprising fighter would be revealed.  "How ever you want it, big guy!"
|
|
|
|
|
|
The Female of the Species
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Jun 07, 2010 9:10 pm
"Then let us part with the frail channels of our sorrow in this endeavor", and with that he steps forward, the ruffling silk of his hakama parting like a pavilion entrance revealing the naked amaranth caressing his right thigh. The once virgin wood shimmered from the tireless labors of sand and its indigo sheen rippled as he tossed it through the air behind him, somersaulting like some over-sized boomerang to land precariously at the foot of the entrance-way. His head tilted foward, obsidian locks splashed down in front of his eyes, a fine, sharp nose tip lined up with an imaginary center, only a pace in advance, while his still outstretched arm high and to the right rose like the wing of a fishhawk. His left hand low, palm down as if warming to the glow of the subtle earth.
"You may begin at any time".
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Jun 08, 2010 7:59 pm
Micheal Noire "Then let us part with the frail channels of our sorrow in this endeavor" "Uhh....sure." Hoshiko would reply, somewhat hesitantly. Ever the tomboy, the fighter wasn't very good with poetry. Or in this case, flowery wording. She could only assume that he meant that he was ready to fight. With that logic soundly in her mind, the woman would let herself fall into her own stance. Breathing evened out, muscles loosened. She relaxed her mind and let loose the endless roar of the crowd. Focused solely on the man before her. As the cheering slowly bleed away, the only sound that reached Hoshiko was the steady beat of her heart. A strong thump, thump thump. The ninja would smile at the man before her, the emotionless mask he wore no doubt unwilling to mimic the motion. It wouldn't matter soon. No one cared for appearances during combat. Go! The one armed fighter was only 10 feet away from her opponent. Nothing more than a few paces before she was in striking distance. And while she knew she couldn't charge recklessly, she also wasn't one to proceed cautiously. Wrapped feet pushed off against the ground hard, powering their owner forward. Soles slapped at the mystery material that made the ground, and Hoshiko breathed out harshly, her one arm raised up. However, she did not strike with it upon closing with Micheal. No, she would plant her right foot forward before bringing her left leg up with her as she finally drew into deadly striking range. Body would lean somewhat to the right to compensate as the kunoichi brought her left knee up, poised to strike into the man's gut. Naturally her aim wasn't perfect, the blow more than likely to strike him on his floating ribs in a forward and upwards blow. That is, assuming the man didn't move. But honestly, when did the first strike ever land in a fight?
|
|
|
|
|
|
The Female of the Species
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Jun 08, 2010 8:34 pm
Sokoya Ramak Micheal Noire "Then let us part with the frail channels of our sorrow in this endeavor" "Uhh....sure." Hoshiko would reply, somewhat hesitantly. Ever the tomboy, the fighter wasn't very good with poetry. Or in this case, flowery wording. She could only assume that he meant that he was ready to fight. With that logic soundly in her mind, the woman would let herself fall into her own stance. Breathing evened out, muscles loosened. She relaxed her mind and let loose the endless roar of the crowd. Focused solely on the man before her. As the cheering slowly bleed away, the only sound that reached Hoshiko was the steady beat of her heart. A strong thump, thump thump. The ninja would smile at the man before her, the emotionless mask he wore no doubt unwilling to mimic the motion. It wouldn't matter soon. No one cared for appearances during combat. Go! The one armed fighter was only 10 feet away from her opponent. Nothing more than a few paces before she was in striking distance. And while she knew she couldn't charge recklessly, she also wasn't one to proceed cautiously. Wrapped feet pushed off against the ground hard, powering their owner forward. Soles slapped at the mystery material that made the ground, and Hoshiko breathed out harshly, her one arm raised up. However, she did not strike with it upon closing with Micheal. No, she would plant her right foot forward before bringing her left leg up with her as she finally drew into deadly striking range. Body would lean somewhat to the right to compensate as the kunoichi brought her left knee up, poised to strike into the man's gut. Naturally her aim wasn't perfect, the blow more than likely to strike him on his floating ribs in a forward and upwards blow. That is, assuming the man didn't move. But honestly, when did the first strike ever land in a fight? From the distance of the rafters, The man didn't seem to move, the audience couldn't see much beyond Hoshiko's own motions. up close and personal, things would be different in orders of magnitude inversely proportional to the distance between the two - that is to say, as one drew in closer, the details become more and more readily apparent. The sudden shifting of Noire's weight ruffled the silk garments suddenly, and violently. His head seemed to vibrate briefly along with the rest of his upper torso, the high speed cameras used for the instant replay would record what looked like a convulsion when played back in slow motion on the colossal video screen, his clothing following gently afterward, like a warm blanket sinking to the mattress after being tossed carelessly to the side. His shoulders had shifted a few degrees, one higher than the other, while his torso descended and twisted like a rag, clockwise and counter clockwise. The sudden motion of his arms moving in opposite directions ever so slightly then stopping gave little indication that beneath the copious amounts of embroidered silk he had shifted the position of his lower trunk to receive the blow to his hip bone... except that was only the perception of the camera. From Noire's own perspective, the world and he were one, and they were united in attacking Hoshiko's immobile knee with the knife end of his hip bone. It was so wonderful that her knee happened to be in such a close proximity to his weapon of choice, otherwise he would have had to drastically change his posture. For Noire, position, place, and motion were matters of perspective, just like a man lying on the earth, hurdling through space at thousands of miles per hour, thinking himself motionless...
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Jun 09, 2010 8:59 am
Hoshiko specialized in close quarters combat. Reveled in it. Where she came from, there were only a few options for styles. ******** all the p***y footing around that genjutsu involved. Same with ninjutsu, though that was more than likely out of regret. The woman wasn't really capable of most jutsus, after all. What with only one arm. Handseals are hard to pull off, you know? Oh well, it's a hard knock life.
But she wouldn't have it any other way.
The fighter had built herself some hurting bombs. While Hoshiko's physique was quite obviously a fit one, it belied the woman's true strength. Her inner powers had been built up to enhance her fighting capabilities. Namely, her raw strength. Truth be told, when the ninja entered the tournament she had been right on the cusp of going over the strength limit. Things like hurling large chunks of the stadium were in the realm of possibility.
Basically...when she kneed someone, it was like getting hit by a car. Metal and all. Hoshiko, like many other from her clan had a special technique. The clan Ishimaru kekkai genkai. By channeling one's chakra into their skin, they are capable of triggering a unique cell reformation. While maintaining the same texture and appearance as regular skin, the cell walls harden an incredible amount, while at the same time increasing the strength of their bonds with nearby cells. Basically, creating skin that is like metal.
So when she kneed the man's shifted hip, it wouldn't phase Hoshiko in the slightest. It would be like striking him anywhere else. With immense brute force. And unless he had some surprise waiting for her the moment that they connected, she was assuming that he'd be going backwards from the force of her strike.
|
|
|
|
|
|
The Female of the Species
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Jun 09, 2010 7:16 pm
Sensing the sudden compression of his silk folds and what would have included the sudden compression of his iliac crest, resulting in a hip pointer - a common sports injury, he was both grateful for the thickness of the folds that reduced the injury to severe bruising, and enlightened as to the nature of his adversary in a way only intimate contact could bring.
His raised hand began descending toward the still tensed and outward stretched quadriceps, who's matchless density reminded him eerily of the iron pipes he used to practice on...
The real question was whether or not his incoming slap would be deterred. With only one arm on the opposite side, the chances were slim, but he wasn't playing a game of estimation, and merely proceeded with his slap as if it were any other opponent. The slow motion cameras on the Jumbo-tron display re-focused three times at different speeds trying to catch his motion for instant replay, the resolution they used made the marble floor of the stadium look like a desaturated swimming pool. His slap seemed unusual for two reasons under the effects of the high speed camera. One was obviously the speed, but tournaments of this variety had their share of speed demons in the past. Rather there was something else unusual about this, something about the way his muscles distorted that didn't look right, like only half were being used to accelerate and the other half began firing off as the first half wobbled from the spasm of use to dormancy - yet this shift occurred before contact was ever made. What in the world could he being doing?
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Jun 09, 2010 8:16 pm
Kathump! Direct hit! The fact that her knee landed solidly with the man's torso region surprised Hoshiko, if only for a moment. But the happy moment was quickly burned away. Not only did she manage to strike something hard that wasn't supposed to be there, the man didn't even seem to notice that he got bullrushed then slammed by some super charged woman's knee. He didn't change posture, he didn't change footing. The blow seemed to melt away, apparently mostly absorbed by his silk clothing. This not only alarmed the brawler, but infuriated it. The fact that she struck him and it did nothing. Despite all her hard work she still couldn't make a man cry out in pain. Well, she'd just have to try harder! His assumption that blocking the slap to her severed limb would be nearly impossible. She wasn't going to make any attempt to try and do so. Rather, she was going to continue in her assault, manhandling the...man, and hopefully her attack would make his harmless. Never mind the fact that his arm was mutating midswing. She didn't have time to concern herself too much over it. Mere moments after her knee collided with Micheal, Hoshiko would spring into a new assault. Her knee would revert back to it's normal state, allowing for her leg, already poised near his waist, to slide forward some and hook around his right leg. Meanwhile, her only arm would come in hard from the right, aimed to slam into the side of the man's head. This is not to say that her goal was a simple blow to the head, though. No, it was an open-handed push, with her left leg pushing on the man's bottom half. Hopefully this would be enough to tip the man off balance and send him tumbling to the ground. The force of his blow bled away because of his momentum and lack of a foundation. Speaking of foundation, this action would force the warrior woman to slide her right foot out more, establishing better footing for such an action. She could only hope that it would be enough to not go down with him. Because the thought of wrestling around on the ground with this guy wasn't too appealing.
|
|
|
|
|
|
The Female of the Species
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Jun 09, 2010 10:02 pm
Sokoya Ramak Kathump! Direct hit! The fact that her knee landed solidly with the man's torso region surprised Hoshiko, if only for a moment. But the happy moment was quickly burned away. Not only did she manage to strike something hard that wasn't supposed to be there, the man didn't even seem to notice that he got bullrushed then slammed by some super charged woman's knee. He didn't change posture, he didn't change footing. The blow seemed to melt away, apparently mostly absorbed by his silk clothing. This not only alarmed the brawler, but infuriated it. The fact that she struck him and it did nothing. Despite all her hard work she still couldn't make a man cry out in pain. Well, she'd just have to try harder! His assumption that blocking the slap to her severed limb would be nearly impossible. She wasn't going to make any attempt to try and do so. Rather, she was going to continue in her assault, manhandling the...man, and hopefully her attack would make his harmless. Never mind the fact that his arm was mutating midswing. She didn't have time to concern herself too much over it. Mere moments after her knee collided with Micheal, Hoshiko would spring into a new assault. Her knee would revert back to it's normal state, and the impulse strike would connect with her flesh, popping down and back so suddenly that the net acceleration reached preposterous levels. Normally an impact of this sort would crack the I-Beam of a skyscraper... assuming her leg still had metallic properties. Rather the varying density of the medium - flesh, bone, fat, and nerve tissues made for an exotic distribution of the shock-wave, concentrated in some places and completely nullified in others. It was a lot like the double slit experiment in quantum mechanics...  some points might spasm, capillaries bursting and nerve endings cracking, while others would be completely fine. It was anybodies guess as to how severe the effects might be without doing an ultrasound.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Jun 10, 2010 1:16 am
Finally the trading of blows would begin. Michael's slap to Hoshiko's thigh in turn for a smack to the side of the head, coupled with a push with her leg aimed to send him to the ground. The big question would be as to which was more damaging. Hoshi's knee being metal or not being metal, however, wouldn't play as large of a role as one might expect.
True enough, the woman would change her joint back to normal moments after striking with it. Likewise, Micheal's hand would connect with her thigh around, at the very least, the same time. The critical thing, the thing that more than likely saved the limb, was that the oddly distorting man struck out at (Somewhat)flesh, rather than the metal like joint. Thus, a large portion of the force would indeed be absorbed.
A tiny portion by the tattered bits of her martial arts robe. More by her skin, her muscles. That isn't to say that the strike wasn't in vain. Bone and still, somewhat, hardened knee would take the vibrations. Just at a weaker state than what he'd hoped for.
This made her coming blow to the side of his head all the more violent.
Grunting out in pain and gritting her teeth, the woman's hand would come flying in, straight for where his jaw connected to his skull. The woman's lower palm, assumingly, making a loud thud as it connected with what force she could muster. Pushing him as best as she could to send him off balance.
Her wounded leg would be less of a player in this move, of course, but the short haired fighter did her best to fight through the pain. Push herself past the limitations. The representative of a dead clan had to prove herself in this match.
Time to see if her will was as hard as her strikes.
|
|
|
|
|
|
The Female of the Species
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Jun 10, 2010 8:25 am
Sokoya Ramak Finally the trading of blows would begin. Michael's slap to Hoshiko's thigh in turn for a smack to the side of the head, coupled with a push with her leg aimed to send him to the ground. The big question would be as to which was more damaging. Hoshi's knee being metal or not being metal, however, wouldn't play as large of a role as one might expect. True enough, the woman would change her joint back to normal moments after striking with it. Likewise, Micheal's hand would connect with her thigh around, at the very least, the same time. The critical thing, the thing that more than likely saved the limb, was that the oddly distorting man struck out at (Somewhat)flesh, rather than the metal like joint. Thus, a large portion of the force would indeed be absorbed. A tiny portion by the tattered bits of her martial arts robe. More by her skin, her muscles. That isn't to say that the strike wasn't in vain. Bone and still, somewhat, hardened knee would take the vibrations. Just at a weaker state than what he'd hoped for. This made her coming blow to the side of his head all the more violent. Grunting out in pain and gritting her teeth, the woman's hand would come flying in, straight for where his jaw connected to his skull. The woman's lower palm, Flew true and straight to where his jaw had been. His jaw, however, already tilted toward her opposite shoulder from his own strike suddenly accelerated slightly toward her own damaged leg, his right shoulder and neck forming a Valley through which her palm-strike flew. He didn't attempt to dodge by ducking or stepping back as others might do, but entered even closer. The "dodge" was in reality a kind of pincer pin tactic between the side of his neck and his shoulder whose nature became more obvious as his free hand flowed over while he twisted bringing his own bicep to his mouth, his weight on the right dropping suddenly while the left sprung creating a full body torque motion in what looked a hell of a lot like an arm bar, except he was using his shoulder and jaw bone as the upper end of the hold, and pressing against her elbow with the arm attached to the very same elbow. his Right hand, still recovering from what looked remarkably like a quivering palm looked as if it were about to circle from palm down to palm up, into what looked like a knife hand to her exposed ribs. One might wonder if Hoshiko's clan ever dealt with Noire's clan... His taijutsu had improved considerably since those days, the b*****d child of a Fujiwara and a Gaijin merchant's son had come a long way...
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
