Welcome to Gaia! ::

Nicholas takes the sheet with all the names from Grazelda. He skims the list and looks around to see if everyone is there. He then walks over to big board and begins to put all the names in the designated spots.

As they were walking away from the signup booth, unaware that they had been the last to "sign up" Lyra led them over to the fighting area. She snagged a little more of X's coco in the process, but something drew her attention back to booth from which they had come. She was first?!?! and with the fighter she had seen in action the night before no less, with a sigh she abrubtly dropped to her kness and began rumaging among the belongings of her pack.

Standing with the tattered remains of the shirt she had worn in her previous fight, in one hand and a small bottle of some clear substance in the other. Lyra gave her compainion a grin, and pulled the cork top out with her teeth. After downing half the bottle in one gulp she handed it to the man who had given her coco.

"Here, have a little pick me up."

Honestly, it was just extract of a few harmless herbs, but after a full night and day of fighting already, she needed a little edge. Holding out her shirt in both hands now she gave it a sharp shake, and gave X a wink as she slipped it under her cloak. In a few moments she discarded the dark heavy cloak and stood a complementing outfit of a steely grey, the shirt which before had been a parchment white now resembled the darker shades of ash, and (if color change wasn't wonder enough) it had somehow gotten back under her petticoat.

Aimlessly while she waited for her call she set about checking that each of her many weapons were in satisfactory fighting order.

Grazelda rolls her eyes and addresses the crowd.

"Thank you everyone for joining and watching our Fastival Fighting Tournament. Our first contestents are Lyra Aliton and Kellindel. Please enter the ring. Lyra will be starting the bout. Thank you"

Her bow was returned with a simple nod. It became evident to anyone witnessing the exchange that he was extremely uncomfortable with formality. Still, when the attack came, he was prepared.

Ducking wouldn't be quite fast enough. Still, his legs bent beneath him to let gravity drag him below the cut. Even partially blinded, the somewhat obscured movement of her arm was enough to tell him that. He had to do something quick. So he fell.

The toes of his feet pushed off the ground and his arms jerked backward, sending his weight away from his opponent. In a single motion, his duck was turned into an akward fall. The sword slashed the air inches above his head as his entire body moved backward, becomeing almost horizontal. Before his hands, still jerking backward, connected with the ground beneath him, beinging an abrupt end to impromptu dodge.

Now he was in somewhat of an akward place, stomach up and supported by his hands and feet. But he was ready. His legs pushed off the ground, rising in front of him then tucking in toward his torso before his arms launched him forward. As his body began to move, his legs snapped outward in a double kick, aimed at her stomach. Not a very dangerous attack, but a good way to test his opponents speed. It should hurt, too.

As much as he hated proverbs...

That was quite unexpected. He thought as he sailed through the air. She was quick. Though he had expected that, she was really quick. Nothing he didn't think he could handle, though.

Working with the motion of the throw, he jerked his weight forward. the result of the shift sent him rotating forward at an even greater speed than her throw had, one that would bring him verticle that vital fraction of a second faster. His hands shot out above his head (in this case, directly downward) reaching for the ground. Seeing as how she wasn't strong enough to give him much lift, they quickly found purchase.

Now with an anchor against the ground, he sent himself rotating even faster, using his wrist to pivot his weight just before his hand left the ground. The result was a beautiful flip with a half turn.

Which got to about a quarter before he saw the glint of metal out of the corner of his eye. Three, in fact. A ranged attack in a tournament? He thought he'd be able to do some serious brawling in this competition. Maybe it simply wasn't to be. A fight was a fight, though.

Grabbing the edge of the cloak, still horizontal in the air, he gave the end of the material a bit of spin. As his feet made contact with the ground, he continued his pivot, at the same time spinning his cloak with one hand. Then, just as the daggers were about to hit him, he simply bat them from the air with the heavy material. Though the pelt fanned out protectively as it spun, his aim was true.

The daggers clanked against the packed dirt ground even as he fell into a crouch, one conveniently bouncing back into the air between them. Obligingly grabbing it, he launched it at her as he sped into a low dash after it. Though he was no thrown weapons expert, he could at least put the weapon where he wanted it.

In the mean time, he planned to punch her. So, his hand whipping out from under his cloak (and taking some of the material with it) he sent it at her face. Though it is scientific fact that objects moving at the speed tennis ball in play or a pitched baseball became effectively invisible at around 5 feet away from the observer, Lyra would have just enough time to see not a fist rocketing at her face, but a tigers claw.

A rough snarl escaped his lips. The attack had not gone as planned to say the least. Already bent forward into an attack, his momentum still carrying him forward after an unexpect lack of anything to halt the movement of his fist, he bent further forward as his free hand moved to the waist of his pants. The sudden movement seemed to have an even greater effect than he had predicted. A look of panic overtook his face as it seemed he was beginning to fall forward, leaving his face wide open for attack.

Predictably, she aimed for his face. As his body jerked forward from his sudden movement forward, something gray rose over the top of his head, another head, that of a tiger, jaws gapping open, fangs glinting in the sunlight and set in a b-line for his opponents face. A loud beastial roar suddenly filled their between them that could only be made by such a large hunting cat.

Meanwhile, he was still falling, his body turning counterclockwise slowly with the movement, his body becoming obscured by the cloak set over his shoulder and arm. Beneath him, a skidding noise sounded out, likely his foot has his fall reached the point of no return.

But then he stopped. A loud whirring noise emenated from behind him and a long length of gray appeared over the incoming tiger head. It's tail? His entire body suddenly moved into the counterclockwise spin, the tiger head (part of his cloak) falling away just as a blur of gray shot over it and directly at her arms, still swinging the sword toward his head.

His belt! It came into focus as it whipped toward her. He had quickly removed it and was now wielding it like a whip. At its current trajectory, it would certainly strike before her sword could hit. Its arc carried it at an angle large enough that she couldn't hope to dip below it and the cord was long enough to strike even if she somehow reversed the direction of her attack. As it stood now, it would likely not only strike her arms, but wrap around them and bind them together and with the downward movement of his arm, jerk them and her attack hopelessly low.

Below him, his legs were set in a wide stance, wide enough so that his pants did not require his belt to stay up. His face was set in a bit of a grin, which remained rather obscured by the lifeless tiger head resting upon his own like an impromptu helmet. Inwardly, he wondered what the strange movement of the air had been about. His sensitive ears had no only picked up the noise of the wind but had placed it near her blade. Best no to try his luck and watch her carefully. There was more to her than met the eye.

Grazelda looks at the chart and back at Mr. Timmy.

"Hmmm, I don't see a problem with that."

She looks back at Nicholas.