Welcome to Gaia! ::

Well, KB had drawn his left wing across horizontally to smash its edge into the Nothing's side. Obviously he wasn't going to be flailing his arms around before Norris got into range, so attempting a feint would achieve nothing. It was only once Norris closed range that the counter was enacted.

That being said, at 7'6 it was safe to assume Norris' tail was... well, how long? Is it the entire length of his body or what? The options available effectively reduced this to one of two things.

Norris moved in, KB smashed him off to the side, throwing off the attempted tail sweep.

Norris hung back and waved his tail at KB, trying to get it to reach past 6ft of wing to slash at the vampire's feet. This second option wouldn't make very much sense either since the tail would have to come out from Norris' a**, arch around out front ( as lizard tails aren't designed to do ) then dip and reach the feet some... six feet away.

If Norris just planned on standing out of range and wagging his tail ineffectually, the vampire would just take a step back and drag his left wing back and downwards in a backslash, severing the annoying appendage in one decisive strike.

Pain shot up from her lower regions as Wind felt the sharp rod impale her. The cry that was to be ripped from her throat came up empty as she lacked the air necessary to do so in her anguish. However, as the pair of them hurtled toward the arena wall, the faerie would find that the Herald of Gaia had tricks of her own. Gritting her teeth and attempting to shut out the pains for a moment, Sheryl simply reached out with both hands and grabbed for fistfuls of golden hair or Anya's ears, whichever she could reach and hold onto first.

Wind attempted to summon a cyclone right around herself. While neither woman would be seriously harmed by the raging winds, being in the eye of the storm, Wind planned to put a little spin on their flight path, and she would pull hair and attempt to hurl Anya into the wall first.

After all, it was better to use a pillow, then be the pillow.

The pain in her leg intensified as Anya jerked on her weapon, but it was lucky for Wind that only half of repositioning them relied on her physical strength. The rest was outside influence, the result of Sheryl's wind manipulation starting to have an affect.

Either way, as the pair spiraled into the wall, this was going to hurt. Wind only hoped that it would hurt Anya more.

We'll just let the gratuitous image tell the story.



... its close enough, damnit.

When Sheryl came to a few seconds later, (she had blacked out from the initial impact), the first thing she did was cough from all of the dust in the air. The second was cry in pain as she attempted to move. She looked down at her legs to see the spear still stuck in her thigh. She felt like s**t all over, but that was just the final straw.

A moment's hesitation took hold of her then. Should she pull it out, and risk further blood loss? or leave it in? Decisions, decisions. But first thing's first, she had to regain her mobility, at all costs.

Groaning, she pulled herself into an upright position, and put her hands together and began to pray quickly, putting all of her concentration into becoming one with the power she wielded.

"Mother Gaia,thoumessengerbeeschesyoutoaidherinhertimeof need,allowmecallupontheGreatWinds,Boreas,Eurus,Notus,andZephyrus,grantmethestrengthtocontinue,andnotfalterbeforemyenemiesherehumblyIaskofthee"

As she prayed, the air around her kicked into high gear, blowing away the dust. The wind became, in simple, short layman's words, an extension of her. Despite her relatively athletic build and ability, this, was all she was truly capable at.

And boy, was she capable. If Anya hadn't recovered and tried something before the end of her prayer, Sherl Wainwright's eyes would flash open, twin blazing azure orbs as she tapped into the power that made her Kazeko, of the Skies of Change.

Used: Aura of the Sky-Child: Passive

-Whumwhumwhumwhumwhum

A big sword. Spinning. Fast.

Right at the dual swordsman's torso. Horizontally.

Where did it come from? Who knows. But it seemed to have originated in the same general area as a moderate looking individual in a blue Venom Signet's uniform.

But there was just no WAY he could have been the one who launched it. He was two shades away from being a complete pale wimp.

Though his eyes did look a bit too bored to have just had a massive damn sword thrown past him.

Lesson learned: walls are hard.

Anya didn't really have a whole lot of options here, and so she crashed shoulderlong into the wall. Since the spear was leading, the initial impact forced her to let go or risk breaking bones - not that she'd have the time to think about this sorta s**t, she was too busy trying to not impact her head directly into the wall. She had mostly succeeded, but any observers would notice that her right arm looked wickedly bruised, with green, blue, and black spreading across her arm. Not to mention the whole, bouncing off the wall thing, which all in all left her feeling like she'd been pounded like a ******** peppercorn, and not in a hurry to spend the dregs of her power on continuing an attack.

Without bothering to take the time to check in on her opponent, Anya would stagger away, backpedaling as fast as she could while gasping for air up until she tripped over the hem of her robes and fell straight on her butt. Pulling herself up to a sitting position, Anya stared in Sheryl's general direction and watched her get up and charge up. There really wasn't a whole lot she could do at the moment, so with a groan, she pulled herself to her feet and glared in the woman's general direction, eyes smoldering as the bow tying her robe back started growing again. Just a bit longer. Then I'll attack her a** again, and I'm not stopping until I get my taste of her.

Anya gestured at the weapon lodged in the woman's leg, raising one golden eyebrow, eyes sparkling with glee. And, for the record, she would be paying attention while making her little speech.

"You were saying? Because I can smell that blood flowing, I don't see you moving, and oh yeah..."

She raised her right arm. Well, actually, she struggled to lift it and managed to get it about a third of the way up, trembling and jerking along the way, before extending her wrist and raising her middle finger at her mere mortal opponent.

"Let's make a deal. I cauterize that wound, you give me my weapon back, and we get back to it after getting our bearings. Because you will lose if you continue like this, and I want a challenge, not fast food."

She could feel her breath coming back and her soul's flame rising again. There was magic in the air, and she didn't like knowing she'd have to burn it all out with her power.

TIME PARADOX
- Arena 36 -

.....
Today seems to be like any other day for the swordsman; Boring as hell. Having fought and lost in the first round, he was still feeling the blow from seeing the result, having expected that he would have at least made a good impression to the judges and the spectators. Unfortunately, it seems that the impression he gave just wasn't good enough. Whether it's from personal bias or some blatant reason..
The swordsman right now could care less. He had came here earlier some time ago to vent out some disgruntled steam to some potential foes, but that fight only reminded him of the fact that he's not advancing anymore in this tournament.

In layman's term, he lost.
And that feeling of defeat never sat well with the swordsman.
Today though, he's a bit more quiet than usual, having calmed down a bit after venting some steam. Wearing the same longcoat, shirt and pants that he wore to the first round fight, the swordsman had his hood pulled back to reveal that bloody red hair of his; his irises matching the intensity of that color. Bulges underneath his sleeves hinted of some potential armored bracers, and the stiff motion near the torso areas of the longcoat and its back hinted the same thing woven inside the fabric.
And as for this upcoming fight, he didn't bring the Halberd into the arena today, leaving it at the sidelines as he wanted to...well, go back to the basics on his swordplay.

So, while standing in the middle of the arena, his dual-wielding katanas would be already unsheathed, held in both hands lazily while he stared off into space. Breathing in a slow, steady pace, there wouldn't be much spectators or crowds coming in at this time - the second round of the GTB tournament already in effect...

Leaving the swordsman himself to stand there alone idly, in a place empty of action.

Well that's how it would all start, now wouldn't it?

First, it was, "hey, scout's honor, I'd fix that, and we'd continue fighting". Next it was, "I surrender, suckers!"

Fortunately for Wind, she was genre savvy. Or perhaps, too genre savvy for her own good. Glass half full, half empty.

"No", she replied stubbornly, closing her eyes. When she reopened them a minute later, they glowed a brillant sky-blue, just like they had been when she was unlocking her powers.

"I don't need to move to kick your a**" she proclaimed, raising her hands up above her. A pleasant breeze would be felt around the entire arena, as Sheryl Wainwright tapped into the depths of her power. Wind reached down and wiped some of the blood off the inside of her thigh onto a hand in preparation for one of her more unique air-based attacks.

Her latest statement so far though? Anya should take note of it. It was very true.