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Fas was still smiling, unphased by the appalling condition of the...man? Hardly qualified, being so emaciated. Of course, Fas knew better than to be anything other than cautious. Eyes tracing the figure before him, shifting over to the fat man with the chain in his hand.

"Hey. I thought you were gonna introduce a fighter, not your boyfriend."

Fas' mocking eyes bored into the little fat man, that smile still on her face. Fas crossed his arms across his hardened chest, sighing out a plume of smoke.

"Well, where shall we do this?"

((FYI, just for reference, Fas is a big dude. 6'10", roughly 285 lbs. Big reach. Just FYI, I forgot to mention it. Forgive the rust.))

Fas laughed aloud. He couldn't help it; it was all so amusing. A fat man so easily angered by his trolling would be a fun target. The booming laugh was deep in Fas' chest, making smoke puff from his mouth.

"I'm sure I will, little man. I'm sure."

Fas followed along, a distance behind the man and his slave. A sad existence, to be sure; slavery was always harsh. And those slave pits the elves put you in have nothing to do with you feeling bad for this kid, right?

Fas' smile was still there, but a flicker of anger passed through those eyes of his, if only for a moment. He shrugged, a mental 'shut up' to that nagging little voice, and entered the arena.

He looked at the pale, emaciated man across from him, still smiling, his feet stopped moving, calculating the distance...about 10 feet. Not much, but enough to keep him well out of range.

The words from Matambo made Fas' eyes flick up to him, back down to the being in front of him. If he loses, he's punished. Probably very severely. Fas' eyes glanced back up at Matambo. b*****d.

He turned his attention back to the pale one before him. "Hey, listen. This isn't necessary. I'd hate to beat you and then have you suffer through whatever torture s**t-breath has planned. So just drop the weapon and make it easier, okay?"

Fas spread his gloved hands apart in a pleading gesture, but he was always smiling, green eyes always laughing. And always watching.

Fas' face finally fell.

"Yeah, me too buddy."

In a blur, Fas' left hand came down to grab Leinguard on his left hip. Rather than draw it, however, he swung upwards toward the corpse, the sheath somehow coming free of his hip, lifting up with the blade before...

SHHHHING!

The sheath flew forcefully off of Leinguard, rocketing its way directly towards the opponent's chest. In fact, with such expert aim, the sheath planned to crash directly into his solar plexus. Due to the lack of padding, it was doubtful the poor being could take the heavy sheath without significant damage, so that was probably a nice bit of danger.

Fas swiftly followed it, glancing only fleetingly at Leinguard in his left, noting the sharp machete blade, the saw-teeth along the "blunt" side, the piercing tip.

The reaction of the corpse-man would determine Fas' re-reaction, and so on...

What?

The loud crack of the sheath breaking bone sent warning signals off in his head. This whole damn thing was getting too fishy for his taste, and for someone like this to have beaten so many others.

General Ackbar screamed "IT'S A TRAP" in his mind, and Fas skidded to a stop. ******** the sheath, he could get another one; he wasn't going in to get it right now.

Range, just five feet now. He started to take a step back, slowly, very slowly, as to not give himself away; he could move very quickly, but the slow movement he made could lull an opponent's instincts into a state of calm, so that when true speed came...

But that was neither here nor there. Irritating, not knowing what to do. Obviously there was mischeif afoot, but what kind was unknown.

His Mana Sense became active, seeking out any magical activity nearby. If the little corpse was charging something, Fas could see it now...

Fas made a harsh tch! with his mouth. To hell with this, Fas wasn't scared of anything.

“Lets see if my aim is still zeroed in.”

His left arm raised to point at the corpse. Index, Middle, Thumb, clawing into a center point. Electricity crackled briefly on each digit, giving the skinny being a split second of warning.

Smite

The bolt of pure electricity zapped through the air, surging in on its target. There was no sound to onlookers, but Fas and his opponent would hear the BBBbbbBBBzzzZZZzzZtttTTT as it rushed through the air toward him. The hardest part of the strike would be attempting to avoid it; unlike a ray-beam or other linear magic, this was still electricity. Even if the babbling man dodged, the lightning would still try to grab a hold of him. Just like a normal bolt, this one desperately wanted to discharge all of its energy into its target; unlike a normal bolt, this one wouldn’t take no for an answer.

Seeing the bolt strike home so perfectly, Fas was already disturbed. Not by the fact that he had killed a man; no, he had experienced that plenty, death to both opponents and “innocents”. Of course, they weren’t innocent to him, not the damnable Elves. Enslaved, beaten, and mistreated to a point that rivaled the poor emaciated man being electrocuted, that was Fasumbra. Abused by those who should have understood his gift the most.

That made him the angriest. Not killing this poor man so easily, no; the fact that this fat, mustacheo’d man had the gall to believe he could own ANYONE.

“Little man, your life ends next…”

The gory explosion was nothing he didn’t expect. Bodies always reacted in different ways to such intense electrical current, and this was the usual method. Especially on direct hits. The sudden spike in supernatural energy, however, was not of the norm.

Seeing the ghost of the little man after a direct hit from Smite, well, that was something he should’ve been expecting. Such a simple victory would have left an uneasy feeling in his guts anyway, but he had already suspected there was something else up the man’s proverbial sleeve. Surprised? Slightly.

Of course, Fas was no stranger to dealing with phantoms and their ilk. Hell, his own brother would attack him with astral projections during battle, and the two were pretty much the same. For all Fas knew of the man’s technique, this could also be an astral projection.

But, there was no time to discuss the details. The fact was that the ghost-man had just raised his hand quite quickly, and Fas had enough experience with the supernatural and their abilities to know something was up. However fast that arm came up, however, Fas himself could easily keep up. After all, how could he ever have matched the great Kuro Tsuwamono if he couldn’t match a spirit?

Mana Sense was a useful ability for the sake of seeing a supernatural strike coming. However, striking this quickly prevented Fas from knowing details. His thought process was react to raised arm pointing at me, react to earth magic. And that was all he knew, earth magic. The sudden eruption of rock flying at his face gave him a pretty decent idea of what “earth magic” meant.

REACT!

The author, due to a lack of description of the oncoming rock-wall, can only assume it is at least as wide as Fasumbra, and of course tall enough to smack him in the face. Fas’ reaction was one born of training, although it wasn’t usually applied to HOLY s**t ROCK TO THE FACE.

Godhand x2

The iridescent runes on each of Fas’ gloves awoke, projecting the Ambient Mana charged in them into a field about each hand. Thankfully Fas’ left hand was free, as well as being still half-raised from firing the Smite bolt. The oncoming rock sent Fas’ body into its reaction; the 3-inch punch from hell. His left arm, barely having time to go through the proper motions, cocked back the few spare inches it could in the moment, which was almost a decent foot, before rocketing back forward. Of course, Fas wasn’t able to use his full strength…

…which was what the Godhand was for.

The rock would, instead of meeting his bare fist—which would’ve still hurt Fas for all his Super Special Awesomeness—meet the projected field of the Godhand. Rather than merely protect, however, this field took the ******** that rock.

BAM!

The rock, being just a rock, was no match for the epic strength afforded Fas through the Godhand's influence. The blow would utterly shatter the offensive bit of Senora Verde, sending rocks and dust flying into the air, as well as into Fas. Simple physics dictated that the rock, even in pieces, would continue onward, smacking Fas a few times, including a fairly decent conk on the left side of his forehead. Mostly, however, the EXTREEM force from Fas’ strike formed the debris into a cone, spreading and expanding outward from the focal point, being his fist. This meant that the large majority of the rocks would either pass over Fas’ head or strike his body.

That was fine. Fas’ body was used to being abused. His forehead hurt like a b***h now, but he could get over that too. He had a ghost to bust, after all, even though no one had called and he had already crossed the streams.

However, all this would go unseen by onlookers, including the ghost himself. The dust sent flying about him by the now-demolished bit of earth was serving as a brief smoke-screen, hiding Fas beneath its dirty veil. In fact, it could even be reasonably assumed that he had just gotten owned by the I SEE DEAD PEOPLE moment.

Nothing could be further from the truth. Retaliation for this insult would not be pretty.

That hand was still up, now flattened to point the palm at the spirit across the way. Of course, this was still unseen, as the dust was slowly settling. What would be seen, however…

Yggdrasil Laser

A sudden blast of light! This, unlike the Smite bolt from moments before, was coming like a beam, and rather quickly, dead-aimed at the specter across from Fas. The force of it sent the dust flying away from Fas, revealing him relatively unharmed by the sudden onslaught. However, that would be of little interest to the ethereal being that was about to eat a Ray of Light, at least until it got through avoiding it.

Ghost or not, the being was still energy. And Fas had blown many a ethereal form to nothingness with this and many, many other techniques. Blame his brother, Kuro. The shot was large enough to blow a dinner-plate sized hole in a man’s chest, so human beings wouldn’t survive getting direct-hit’d. Maybe the ghost could; maybe it would merely injure the departed soul. Or maybe Fas had something else in mind.

However, what would be of interest to onlookers was Fas’ face. That smile was back, with more light in his jade eyes than even before. Mocking still, but now there was happiness beyond it. The thought of an actual fight? Thoughts of his brother?

Whatever it was, it was little consequence to the spirit-being on the receiving end of the arriving Yggdrasil Laser.

Even as the blast flew towards his opponent, Fas quickly got into a more-ready position before restarting that run he had cut short a while ago. Still pacing himself for the sake of stopping or having to adjust his position on the fly; after all, maybe that damn ghost had more rocks to turn into pop-up geography books.

“Being dead’s a good look for you! I’ll help make it PERMANENT!” Fas shouted as he charged, laughing, forever laughing.

The Godhand on his left was out, for now, beginning to suck in Ambient Mana to recharge. There wouldn’t be anymore uber-punches from his left, at least not for the moment.

Leinguard was also ready in his right, beginning to glow a sky-blue color as he ran, held down and slightly behind him, point to the ground, cutting-edge facing forward, ready to slice and dice…

Quote:

Spell(s)/Technique(s) Used: Mana Sense ; Godhand Strike ; Yggdrasil Laser [Light-Element Based] ; Assume the Position (Stance Shift/Recover) ; Runic Recharge ; Blade of the Lost (Mana Charge)

Mana Used: 3 (+1 next turn if Blade of the Lost is completed)

Mana Remaining: 14/20

Rune(s) Used: Godhand x2 {LEFT IS RECHARGING}

Runes Remaining: 2/4

Mana Crystals Remaining: 3/3

Arena 93

‘Blue lights gave an enchanting hue to the small piece of parchment that lay untainted by the blood that surrounded it….’

Another day another dollar…. At least that would he would have liked to say. Today seemed as if it were to be just like the majority of the days that now plagued the young man life and would fall into the category of “annoyance.” He prayed that today there would be mercy for his book and he wouldn’t have to kill the one who had the misfortune of dueling him. As usual he wore his obscene black trench coat with the same olden musk hat upon his head to match the coat. By the time his opponent made his way through the pillars that signified “A,” he already stood in his respective corner, eyes downturned upon the pages of his book. He swayed back and forth slightly as he waited for his opponent to finish his entry trot and come within a comfortable audible range. “It is a pleasure to meet you sir. You may begin when ready.” His eyes did not leave the pages of his book once as he spoke. He certainly did hope that his opponent was not disrespected by this act but he was at a good part.

'…. cascade of blood seemed to be the theme of the reaper who painted their scene….'

Arena 93

‘Ocean now dyed red with the blood of fallen comrades had been casted asunder by the gods…..’

As he had thought, today would be just like the days lived and begin with annoyance. The man’s sprint had not gone unseen by Athous and his watchful eyes. He had been blessed from birth to have an unnaturally large range of peripheral vision that would have a kindergarten teacher s**t their drawers at his ability. The blade was not too much of an issue for Athous. Although it forced him to reconsider his effective range in this particular battle it would not be a problem to slip around such a large sword. If the blade was held one hand and in his opponent’s right hand he would simply guide his left foot behind his position while pivoting upon his right foot at the last given moment. As simply as the move was, it would be effective. The target, once held outwards and at his left side of his body would not be positioned further to the rear and retracted slightly inward allowing the blade to slice easily through the air. Simultaneously to his pivot Athous raised his right hand and raised his right hand in the form of a fist. From the shadows of his coat two chains launched themselves and were aimed to wrap around the neck of his opponent that stood no more than a few feet away. Would his opponent get away unscathed from this surprise attack? Athous didn’t care really. No harm had been done to his book despite the ill will it had been shown. For now things would be forgiven.

‘Blood had been shed yet the gods shed no tears for the death of their creations merely watched as the reaper painted its picture.’