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 Posted: Sun Dec 24, 2006 12:44 pm
(( Just a status quo post, so Tac doesn't close it.
X is moving. ))
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Posted: Wed Dec 27, 2006 7:52 pm
So close. So unbearably close. This was the level of skill of fighters, this is the kind of battle he'd been robbed of twice. Those half-battles were only appetizers... this was the meal, the real thing here. All of the meats, cheeses, and breads were laid bare.
"Ugh."
Omi's voice carried well over the sound of the crowd and rain, since it's the one he wanted to hear. He wanted to see how fast Omi would come, but the man waited. Ah... Omi was as much a gentleman as he was a fighter. Maybe it's this good spirit that kept Lazenca in the fighting spirit without even touching the Alpha Shift Black through the entire battle. A spar where both men know that they're going to do it all, but they're going to have fun.
When Omi's voice hit his ears, Lazenca nodded and stood, then shook his fur free of dirt and a little water, though he'd not longer worry about matted fur or looking like a wet dog. To make matters better on that front, he shifted up to Transitional and worked his neck from side to side.
"Great volley. Let's go."
With the rain picking up quickly around them, he walked forward while rubbing his back with the left hand, kinda hunching over to do so. His pace was as slow and deliberate as it was when they first started.
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Posted: Wed Dec 27, 2006 11:19 pm
Noticing how his opponent did indeed manage to rise, the mercenary half-heartedly, only out of slight exhaustion, smiled. It was nothing better a sight to behold for Barsait, than that this match would not end before their limits were shattered entirely. Rain was bashing down upon his dark, wild hair - and it was not long before his right hand strode upward casually, and flicked his bangs aside, letting his eyes in their amber hue have as clear a sight as they would. No sooner had this been done, than that same arm drooped back to it's respective side - around the time Lazenca had assumed his more.. conventional appearence.
Flashing his teeth in a grin, showing that Omi was still quite lively, he decided to forsake the stance he had taken so many a time before. First, his right leg came forward. Then his right shoulder & arm; his entire right side took the forefront, face gazing outward at Miranda. His right hand rose upward, gauntlet still covering it smugly, and seemed to extend just in front of the swordsman's face. Two inches away from the tip of his nose, in fact. Handplate facing outward towards Lazenca. However, his left side, in suit, came backwards; left leg grounding itself just an inch or so back from where it began, left arm lowering down considerably. For it seemed to cross over his stomach, fist just barely apart from his shirt.
His legs squared just slightly with his shoulders - and his chin lowered a tad. Odd as it seemed amongst their match, Barsait presumably had assumed a boxing stance of some sort.
"Heh, sorry if what I did hurt a tad 'ere.." He called out from that same stance with a friendly voice, chuckling at the end of his sentence. "..But aye, come at me whenever you feel ready." Cutting through the winds, the occasional spec of sand, and the precipitation clodding down upon the two fighters - judging by his voice, it seemed Omi was all too eager to get right back into the fray. Of course, this was to be expected. In a tournament where his friends had been bested by questionable tactics, where he had nearly fell prey to death but two times outside of his designated matches, and where the future was all too uncertain, a kind spirited - yet challenging bout was a God send to Barsait. A gift, all too readily accepted.
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Posted: Thu Dec 28, 2006 6:35 pm
Yeah, a sword! Omi had hardly used the thing, right? They weren't even close to the finish.
Ten feet. Lazenca's hands were up in the air with a height matching his mouth, wrists limp. With the right leading, he walked straighter than when he was rubbing his back. The legs were in a nice slightly- larger- than- shoulder- width- apart distance, base was low... and here we go.
Eight feet. Lazenca's right hand lowered to mid-chest, staying apart from the body.
Was he going to have to make the first move again?
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Posted: Sat Dec 30, 2006 12:57 pm
It seemed like the mercenary fully intended to sit back and wait for his opponent to come in again, same as all of their prior melee exchanges. One would surmise, the burns lining his right arm would be a hindrance; yet, they weren't severe enough to limit said arm's usefulness. Rather, the arm felt nice & limber; just what Barsait wanted. Still in the same position as before, it seemed for the longest of moments that indeed, Omi would force Miranda to take the dive forward once again..
But, this was not the case. For in a rapid display of lower leg-strength, Barsait shuffled forward; keeping in the position with his slightly lanky build, charging forward like a freightrain. So much for playing it defensive. Yet - just as it seemed he would come into Miranda's general proximity, Barsait stopped on a dime; shuffling back a foot. But not before whipping his right hand forward, metal edge lashing forward - in a bizarrely fast jab, which held a whip like motion near it's end; flicking at Lazenca.
It would come close enough to Miranda, that a rather endearing cut of a blow would be possible at Miranda's left hand - right where it twere guarding his mouth; but, Omi refused to come in close enough for a retaliation from that right. He was now using footwork in a much higher degree than any time prior, the upper sections of his boots balancing his body with each shuffle; for each shuffle back and fourth, would lead to another jab forward with that metal edge, like a humanoid blade. This made it hard to retaliate too - for most of Barsait's body was tilted backwards and to the left, behind that right arm which jabbed with such a fury. And at his stomach, ever motionless despite the degree of movements the swordsman made - was his left hand. Poised. Fist drawn.
Now, one could likely see the situation unfold; Omi was throwing very sharp, literally more so with the gauntlet's handplate, jabs that would be hard to counter what with Barsait's body position & constant movement. And if Miranda decided to close the gap to alienate this advantage.. that left hand, like an ever patient Reaper, would circle forward along with the rest of his body in a rather hefty left-hook; again, handplate's edge coming forward. In short, the mercenary was playing a pressure game. Try to deal with the rapid cutting jabs, or step in and be countered with a hefty punch from Barsait's left? As the rain dabbled about with each to-be jab, Miranda would have to make a choice fast; for Omi was right-handed, yet.. Oddly, he was in a southpaw position, predominantly for the left-handed; but by doing this, his dominant - and stronger - right fist could doll even more pain behind those piercing jabs. Damage would add up if a counter measure was not employed, and most swiftly. And if Barsait could manage to start getting in blows around the hand guarding Lazenca's mouth - especially with that odd whipping motion to his jabs, which caused the overall impact to increase..
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Posted: Sat Dec 30, 2006 6:52 pm
Lazenca just stood there in his defensive position, a small movement of the left arm making Omi's gauntlet meet against Lazenca's own metallic arm guards.
And this was it. You see... Lazenca was used to doing the first move because-- nothing against Omi-- people were scared to do it. They were scared to get in and throw a powerful hit and make something happen. Lazenca did it last time, stepping up and moving forward and if Omi did nothing else he was going to get headbutted. A nice volley happened, and they were here again. People in the stands doubted him because for all intents and purposes, Lazenca lost that "round." If this was a video game and time was out, Omi would win because of chip damage Lazenca took in blocking Omi's attacks.
But this wasn't. And here they were... Omi throwing jabs, Lazenca standing there and blocking them perfectly.
Was he going to have to make the first move again?
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Posted: Mon Jan 01, 2007 11:10 am
One would surmise, with the little effect the mercenary's blows were imparting, he would give up that method of attack and attempt something else. Yet, no such course of action was considered; instead, he continued the ever constant shuffle, jabbing his right fist forward with a fury at every pass, despite the left arm blocking them. All the while, his left hand kept in the same place, same position, never changing as though patiently awaiting Lazenca to try and close the gap..
.. Or was that entirely true? For now, the fist was starting to shake; still a well-formed fist, still awaiting it's opponent, still at it's same position.. but shaking more and more rapidly, as though resonating or trembling rapidly beneath some kind of wave striking it. Yet, this was all that was truly seeming to be different in the assault; Barsait just kept throwing those powerful hooks, ever patiently waiting for Lazenca to either try and come at him, or lose his guard's edge. The crowd began to seem confused; it was obvious the jabs were not imparting any lasting impact, so why was Omi pursuing them with such a level of persistence?
Jab.. jab.. jab.. if each would be met with Lazenca's arm - then so his fist's hand plate and Lazenca's guard meet each time; the jabs growing more fiercely, though no doubt still meeting the same results. That left hand, however, really seemed to be rumbling in place, now..
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Posted: Mon Jan 01, 2007 2:10 pm
And with the sounds of clashing metal that sounded to him like sleigh bells, Lazenca just stared forward. Not into his opponent's eyes, but just forward.
Block, block, block.
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Posted: Mon Jan 01, 2007 5:18 pm
"Keep it shut tight.. don't let a single space between your fingers exist.."
Such odd thoughts kept running through the swordsman for hire's psyche, fervently as though Barsait was trying to keep himself focused despite his repeated actions. Another jab; another block.. and yet again, another punch followed by an arm keeping it at bay. The crowd began to grow restless, both due to the fight seemingly going nowhere, and due to the fierce gales & down pouring rain just splashing down.
However, Omi's rate of breathing was increasing. Now that was bizarre; surely, the grand attack earlier would leave one a tad weary, but just moments ago, he had seemed quite fine. And while surely, throwing those jabs would exert more energy than just blocking them - it didn't seem enough to wear the swordsman down. Those in the stands that could keep their patience had a different problem: Confusion in this contestant's actions. Wasn't repeatedly doling out blows without results just going to eventually make him opened up for a counter assault? He was never known to make such mistakes before..
"He's actually doing it.. I can't believe it.." His thoughts dully played out, the left hand now shaking even more rapidly in an almost alarming manner whilst his right hand flicked outward, again & again. His vision seemed to be dulled as well - though his blows kept their tenacity. "It actually worked. He must think this rain will quell my attacks entirely.. than.. this is my shot. I won't have another time like this. In that stance, he can't just bolt away in any direction, and he's too close to move in or move back. Lazenca.."
Teeth gnashing together, another flicker jab erupted forward; the shuffling growing faster. ".. I apologize, but even if it tears me apart, I'm finishing this." Slowly, his head seemed to bow just a tad in that last jab; was he about to fall unconcious? Had, truly, the accumulated blows prior to then caught up to he?
Not at all.
Head bolting up, his entire body instantly came to aliveness with a fresh gust of adrenaline, and an alarmingly content expression - as though the battle were already in his hands. Despite how things looked. Then, shuffling back again, two words came out, as his eyes narrowed with those amber brown pupils dilating - "Forgive me."
And that was when the left hand, fingernails digging into the palm to have kept so enclosed, unraveled with brevity. And this time - no jab would commence. And no one arm would be enough to block what Barsait would toss Miranda's way next.
A distraction. That had been all Omi was doing with the jabs, after the initial blocking. Lazenca, in his content to keep in place and ward the blows away, did not appear to have taken into account what Barsait may have been doing during the entire, seemingly useless exchange - or why that left hand shook in such a manner. This would prove costly. He had been building up those serpents inside of his palm. More condensed until his fingertips unraveled, there were quite a number gushing outward, as though the pressure at his left hand aching to muster them at their target had finally been unleashed. Instantly, the darkness of the area they had stood at was replaced by fierce, red light; and Barsait's entire body gunned forward. Blocking, jabbing - all of that was irrelevant now. Even if he were struck in return, what he would muster forward was not going to be denied. That, Omi was most intent on.
The flames Barsait mustered were most unnatural. For unlike say, your average magician of folklore, or one whom dabbled into the arts of "magi"; this swordsman's "serpents" feed off just one element. And scream out their flames from said substance, odd though it were: Oxygen. So, the two combatants being so very close, as the expanding coils opened their "mouths" - one would be surprised to see water all around them suddenly hiss into a thick gas. They could not ignite water, perse' - however, the serpents were now acting in two channels. One, to try and ignite, but fail, the element oxygen in the waters pelting over them - thus removing the element in the process, a failure though their efforts were. But.. by just defeating this element, small flames quickly being rained upon generated by surrounding oxygen - just what was left of the rain?
Remove O from H2O, and you have the very reason why most any opponent against Barsait reading too far into the "Elemental Hierarchy" on how water normally bests flames could quickly find themselves dead: Hydrogen to the second power. More commonly known as Hydrogen Gas.
Just a spark. One little tuff of flame had to touch that gas, that unnatural air before grand, horrendous flames bellowed forward - the mercenary howling in a deafening roar with his left arm now backing his currents instead of the right. Truthfully: Barsait didn't assume that southpaw stance earlier to try and best his opponent with a superior jab. His right arm was simply too weakened, too wounded, to channel fourth another assault like it had before. So, to common reason: Omi used his other arm.
But now, in that small, small distance Omi & Lazenca shared - a mass of roaring, ebbing flames were gushing towards their prey. This, in such a short time, put Barsait's past ember attacks to shame; in fact, it would most definetely dull both of the fighter's sense of sight, and the small droplets of water coming down, while they would eventually put the flames away at the cost of much of their numbers merely evaporating, if given a little time, were not enough to douse the flames before they would reach Lazenca at such a short distance. The mouth - the very tip of it seemed to just be one grand serpent, the rough size of either fighter's torso - perhaps a tad larger. But in such an expanded state, it appeared as though a dragon-like being was about ready to devour Lazenca. And quickly, the crowd's protests of not seeing any events transpire were hushed, perhaps even by force as even from their distances, they had to shield their eyes a tad. In fact, their eyes would probably water at the intensity radiance those Hellish flames gave off; hence, many averted their gaze entirely.
Needless to say: A raised left arm would not block this.
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Posted: Mon Jan 01, 2007 11:09 pm
 Lazenca saw what Omi's hand was doing... staying there, shaking that hand while going back and forth with the jabs. It was either a charge, or it was getting ready to punch outward when Omi felt Lazenca was comfortable in the punch/block thing they had going- it was something street fighters did, the old one-two changeup or somesuch. There was no point in wasting energy and time by directing his eyes somewhere where nothing was happening, when he could just let peripheral vision tell him if an attack was happening.... Looking forward without looking up too far (into his opponent's eyes) was his way of watching as much of his opponent's movements as possible. Conservation of energy.
The rain beat down on them, obscuring movement of light and such, unless lighting struck. A cloudhopper would show long shadows of both men... and another one soon thereafter would show Omi's shadow dwarfing Lazenca's. One could consider it an omen of the way the fight was going, but two split seconds among the rest were nothing... their voice was masked by Time and The Unwritten. It was very, VERY unlikely in the arena would think anything of Lazenca being in a long shadow, much less see it. But Lazenca knew it was there, and that's all that mattered. Conservation of attentions.
Lazenca stopped any other movements, save those needed to block. Nothing else was done. If his legs weren't required to shift, they remained stationary. His blocking left, his floating right... they stayed where they were. Whereas Omi's attacking made his breathing ragged with anticipation, Lazenca's slowed and deepened. Conservation of movement.Typhoon_Omi Then, shuffling back again-- EXSpecial: Glare (pictured at left) This tech is aptly named because the user concentrates at a certain spot- be it a person, object, or open air. To the sound of sleigh bells, atmospheric liquid in that area freezes into a crystalline formation that immediately erupts, releasing all energy freely into the air. The impact from taking a Glare is said to feel like taking a double-barreled shotgun to the attacked body part, and packs as much stopping power and lethality. The move is deceptively deadly because of the speed and because it's never telegraphed.
With the Glare aimed at Omi's back, the impact, with 99% certainty, was going to make Omi explode forward into Lazenca suddenly. The man's back was likely to be hurting like nobody's business... because you see, Lazenca's sitting there and staring at Omi's general directing was aiming. Back and forth... shuffle back and forth. The move had the potential of killing a person with the crystal materializing inside a person's body... quite effective in hunting superbly large game. It was for that that Lazenca waited so long... that and another reason to be discussed below.
The point was... Omi was being bounced forward, and all the ladies in the crowd were screaming at the top of their lungs while the men booed.
No, it was...ESpecial: Backlash Grenade After charging energy into Lazenca's fist [usually the right], he thrusts the hand forward. Heralded by the sound of gears winding down, a chorus of shrill screams is released with the charged energy before the open palm. Lazenca doesn't have to physically touch someone to have the attack hit- if a target is in front of him and is in range of the blast radius [5ft x 5ft x 6ft, l/w/h], then it will be flash-frozen in a block of ice and incompacitated. A longer charge creates a larger blast radius and thicker ice. The Tech user has the option of keeping the ice as-is, or instantly shattering it all through a explosion caused by a release of energy.
How large was this block... how massive was this attack? Lazenca wasn't one for counting numbers, but consider what happened in the rest of the volley-- nay, the rest of the fight. Omi attacked, Lazenca remained relatively immobile and fielded punches, doing little more than running around and making sure Omi's serpents of flame didn't ruin him. Yes, there were the close calls when he was forced to actually act... but Omi was actually trying, the entire time. People excersizing the body can zone out and concentrate on other things while in motion, and save the times he had to really pull something out and save himself, Lazenca was doing just that.Special: Ante Up A focused mind and still body allows Lazenca to to gather energy and perform attacks that call for a higher energy cost than he previously had. In video-game speak, this is "charging the super bar."
Also, that thing about Omi actually moving around and such. Lazenca wouldn't dare assume to know how much energy the man had, but that last big attack seemed to take something out of Omi. Indeed, he seemed a bit disturbed every time he had to use them. Call it a "block meter" since it was heat that usually saved people like it saved Omi in his last battle. A lack of waiting to fill it up, constantly spending and never conserving... it was like dropping a flame in the frozen north.
There was something that Lazenca discovered during the last Heaven or Hell tournament- a great deal of water in the atmosphere or area by way of mist or rain (it was actually discovered while a fire hydrant was broken across the street from the alley he was fighting Sunstrike) increased the power of the Backlash Grenade, since there was that much less time taken in freezing atmospheric air. It had been repeated at the end of the Petals of Chaos event that gifted him with the necklace and armlets he wore now. That extra effect is what would completely nullify Omi's attack, if those serpents dared even have a passing thought to emerging from his fingers. Rain stopped in midair and everything in front of Lazenca was frozen.
If this was a video game... it wouldn't be unreasonable to think that in the 1.5 seconds passing between the Glare and the Backlash Grenade's area effect, Omi was dropped down to the last third of his health.
But it wasn't a video game, and Lazenca would have to wait and see what the outcome of it all would be. Still he stood, watching the man no less tha ten feet from him (due to the Grenade's push) and waiting.
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Posted: Mon Jan 01, 2007 11:38 pm
An enn-pee-see leaning over the outside wall shook a fist and sipped a beer.
"BLOOOOOOOOOOD~!!!"
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Posted: Tue Jan 02, 2007 4:58 pm
 So, if the assault could be replayed; the mercenary would attempt it with that same level of energy. That vigor which the thrill of the chase could only impart. None of those bizarre sounds were paid any mind; all of his focus was delved upon an image only his eyes could perceive. That of beating down Lazenca once and for all. Of standing in aloof victory. Yet, no doubt - the results he desired and craved, would not become reality just yet, if at all.
A blast.
Horrendous, surprising - Barsait was bathed in a forceful wave he had no suspicion of every existing, forcing his entire body right at Lazenca with a ripping sensation of agony surging along & asunder his backside. His eyes were forced shut with the sudden assault from his rear, before wincing, then flowing open in exasperation; it seemed, as much as the mercenary had tried to pass the time to trap Lazenca, Miranda had waited even longer.
Some of those chanting & booing men, however, may have noticed just one thing prior to the second phase of Lazenca's assault. A red tide of light flowing down the mercenary's flesh - as though he had just been coated by a fresh seal of shining blood.
Then, they would more than likely notice little more.
Another magnificent assault was tossed his way, much to the ever-rapidly processing mind of the swordsman - already feeling dismay. He was being coerced forward, and knew he would be struck by something.. though certainly, he did not suspect what followed, for he hardly had the time to think of it; such a small waiting grace passed between the Glare and Grenade. Just a palm. That was all that Lazenca seemed to show, flipping it upward to face Barsait's torso as the red flood masked his vision somewhat - literally lining & adhering along his flesh. For, after all, it obviously took a while to wind those "coils" all around the arena grounds - but for a large series of them to procure just a millimeter from his flesh? Not as difficult of a task. Though it seemed rather than willing them forward, this was most of an involuntary reflex.. Still - just as an enraged outburst began to flow from his flesh of fire- it was too late. In a method most horrendous, his body was rapidly frozen with a horrendous, shrill shrieking sound of an assault; his senses were dying. Nay, his entire cadaver was now feeling the icy cold hands of the Reaper; and just as it seemed things could not get any worse, any more prevailingly horrid.. Miranda sealed the deal. The statue of ice Barsait had truly became imploded.
It was too horrendous a pain to scream. It was too loud to have heard him had he the ability to do so, anyway. And immediately following the implosion, the mass of his body struck the sands below with a massive amount of force; slosh soil going in all directions, the now dying rain still giving small amounts of its contents upon the corpse below. Dust, sand, what appeared to be a few red serpents gone astray.. Wary, flickering thoughts were now traveling through Omi's head. Though, he felt so horridly light-headed, it seemed he would pass out, or worse, at anytime. "Ah well.. I gave it my best, didn't I? Going any farther could end in me dying. I'm only seventeen.. I've still quite a number of years left to ponder through." Weary, haggard thoughts with a calm hue floated around, as dust obscured his very vision. "It was unfortunate, I could not see this tournament through.. but no amount of gold is worth my life, no? Besides.. I can take the time afterwards to better myself.. Heh, pushing myself to my limits will only clip my wings to Heaven."
Then, in a nauseated state, imagery flew through his head like a miasma. Of the people he had battled here. Of the friends that had lost their places. Had been wounded, stabbed, beaten about, or outright cheated, in his opinion, of their advancement.. and finally, he willingly envisioned his opponent. And a feeling at his gut tore through him, worse than the pain lining his entire body.
Few at all could even get a gist of the mercenary's current state, but, most all assumed the worst. "He was dead." Simple as that - that was the common consensus. Some of the crowd, having cheered him on prior, were now giving last words such as, "A shame." or "A pity."
Some such folk spraying these words of false praise, however, would hush themselves in awe.
For the mercenary's body lurched out of the prevalent crater; off the ground; back upward, face first, and no longer sealed away in a thought-driven coffin. His hair was even more wild than it had been before, and all over his body, twere small bruises or scrapes. It seemed, the full force of the implosion was stopped right at the flesh line; shards of ice were actually, at tip points and already melting since they could not exist in the current temperature, embedded along his chain mesh and general body.
For, it was already stated long ago: That chain mesh was designed, besides being a comfortable means of protection without limiting his movement..Chain Mesh Finally, lining the skin between his gauntlets & the t-shirt - and from his lower neck, to wrists, to just above his feet, twas a chain mesh. Mixtures of highly compressed iron, and trace amount of materials which one could easily consider to be Unobtainium - it was rather heftier than the clothing he wore otherwise. Yet, it helped alleviate blunt force, helped deal with extreme temperatures, helped alleviate pressure against him.. all in all, the quality of a high class, bulkier plate of armor - in a form that still allows considerable movement freedom.
Yet, now, he looked particularly frightening. For his lips parted, teeth baring - and four fang-like tooths were in prime-sight, his eyes wide open. Constantly re-seeking breath, yet never quite coming to equilibrium. Still, his hands shakily rose upward - though it was a pitiful sight at first, for he seemed to barely be able to raise them at all - and clasped them at the palms. "My, I love to lie to myself. I could never endure my own prescience if I turned my back on this now. Tch.. but now I'll be in the infirmary whether I prove to be victor or no.." This last thought was mellow in nature, though perhaps, it would prove to be the end of his casual demeanor.
His voice, still friendly as it had been before, though now horridly haggard, "Well done! You are an amazing man; I confess that I have never been presented such a challenge but by a few individuals in my lifetime, and perhaps, they did not come close to the one you have presented today." His speech was now slightly more formal, though still carried on, "I even admit as to have taken you lightly. That was a horrid mistake, I apologize for right here and now. It's sad that this may, perchance, slay either of us, yet.."
Voice trailing off, that flood of serpents coursed down his flesh again. Just as rapidly. And this time, they showed no signs of flowing away.
Then, the rain - the torrent of a storm finally ended. One could still see the dark clouds, and the rumbling lightning a ways off.. but would feel little moisture. This was nothing more than a coincidence, yet it had some of the more easily inspired - and not so easily- members of the audience feeling slightly disturbed. As though somehow, the mercenary's rise had caused the rains to cease. But, his head bowed down - no more words spreading from his lips. And quickly, a cluster of the serpents seemed to ignite- then another - and yet again, another. Now, some of the crowd began to grow even more worried, for from their sights, Barsait appeared like a walking demon of flames now.
But, this was not reaffirmed until a sudden shape of flames was created: Literally, a number of the coils formed a pike. And yet another. And they began piercing the mercenary at certain points - the right shoulder, the mid-lower left leg. And his head was now bowing beneath his arms, shaking rapidly with his mouth closed tightly.
Then, in a bellowing wave of flames that gave off the sound as though an explosive had gone off, much to the spectator's dismay - flames scattered off the mercenary. Landing upon the sands, lighting up the area about Miranda & Barsait once more. No doubt, none would reach Lazenca's frame; the mercenary, even in this state of rage and others, preferred to be a sportsman. Yet.. right about then, an appropriate number of gasps came up from the crowd.
A fleece of flames had came around and behind Barsait's neck. Around his gauntlets. Around his feet, a tuff flowing off his neck, another gabbing out wave after wave of horrendously high heat at his right elbow. And with a new focus, his face bellowed upward - eyes alive, amber brown with something else to them, before he gave out what was unmistakably.. a deafening roar.
His cuts. They had stopped bleeding. His muscles, relaxed and weakened, were now tensed and strung once again; his body taut and looking ready to pounce at the mercenary's opponent. Teeth remaining bared, he began casually stepping to his left - in a quick fashion, keeping Lazenca's general sight in his.
If this wasn't enough of an unset, than perhaps the next element Barsait would procure, would be. Wasn't the crowd so curious as to why he never drew his blade? His opponent, even?
Such curiosity had no consistent reason to remain living now, for left hand arching over his matching shoulder - the hands of flame grasped upon the leather traces of the blade's hilt, oddly not scolding the cotton upon it.. and drew it in one fierce motion, the singing auditory of resistance flowing through the arena air, right to his side. Edge pointing downward, the very had that had grabbed it tossing the handle over to his right hand's firm grip.Swordsmith Kuro's Creation: The Caladbolg [Caladbolg]
The name translates to "Hard Lightning". 22 centimeter hilt. Blade length from the hilt itself: 40 centimeters. A sword guard made of the same material as the blade lays at the junction between the blade & it's handle, round in shape. Fashioned like an average straight katana, it has a strange design - for about ten centimeters down from the tip, it curves gradually. [Similar to the 1st design mentioned here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Knife#Shapes ]
Spanning from the sword guard about two centimeters, is what is commonly referred to as a "Tanka"; a thin sheet of metal designed to lock the guard in place, as well as to maintain the weapon in it's sheath [commonly referred to as a scabbard.]
The handle is fairly long for a weapon such as this; square until the end, in which case, it rounds off. Obviously, the handle is made of an assortment of light metals [light traces of copper secreted in the middle, surrounded by silver], & dark blue & black cotton straps, both for grip and for functionality. A good strike from the handle would likely wound an opponent in and of itself, if with sufficient force. And, the lovely straps of cotton give it an almost ethereal & light design.
However, the blade itself, could only be described as 'magnificent'. Made of the metal called "Ghost Jade", which is a highly translucent metal with a white & light-blue glow emitting off of it. It is said, blacksmiths actually craft spirits into the blade, for Ghost Jade has never been documented to have been seen until crafted into any given object; but, whether one believes this or not, it cannot be denied that the blade holds an almost otherworldly aura. In fact, the metal is incredible in and of itself; less than 1/5th the weight of steel, but with an immense amount of durability & cutting power. Not to mention, a beautiful, fine edge.
A one-handed blade. Most katanas and weapons of the sort weigh in the area of three to five pounds. This weapon, however, is light as a feather; one pound at most, yet, would probably prove the better if pitted against a larger, much more weightier weapon. And, to support the theory that Ghost Jade is crafted, truthfully, with spirits - it is said, this particular weapon holds some otherworldly, unnatural abilities.. perhaps, hearsay as well.
Crafted by the swordsmith Kuro Tsuwamono in a gesture of kindness [and as a reward for aid in a small battle], this blade was given to Omi Barsait, a wandering mercenary of sorts. It could be said, there's not a sword in existence quite like it; and, it suits the mercenary quite fine. However, Omi was the one to name it.
It's speculated, he gave it the name after an old legend he'd heard of concerning a man whom wielded a two-handed blade named Caladbolg - a famed weapon that would make an arc of raw, rainbow translucent energy and split three hills apart in one fell blow. It was rumored, that the original Caladbolg was to be the predecessor to the legendary blade of numerous folklores, Excalibur. It's also famed to be a sister-weapon to the grand spear wielded by Cúchulainn of mythology, the Gae Bulg - a weapon forged via the spine of a sea serpent.
The Gae Bulg was rumored to only function at specific times, and when it pierced an opponent, it opened into thirty barbs - the only way to remove it, by cutting the foe's flesh off. Excalibur, on the other hand, was a famed two-handed sword with untouchable power, which was famed to designate any given man or woman the right to be a Lord of their people. So, it speaks for itself; for a blade to be affiliated with such monstrous, legendary weapons - that this sword itself, would be something to fear.
It is said by some that would have seen it, however, that what times he has wielded the blade - it became bizarrely difficult to keep one's eyes on Barsait.. If again, one wanted to dive into a coined video game metaphor: You could say, Barsait just came brilliantly back into the green, and had now gained quite a lovely power-up. Red flames, white glow - his body radiated like that of an ascended being. And all the while, moving in that arcing circle to his own left, Lazenca's right - Barsait was keeping Miranda in his eyes. In those eyes that were now, almost to an unsettling degree, boring into his opponent.
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Posted: Thu Jan 04, 2007 6:14 pm
Despite the power of the quick assault, Lazenca kinda knew it wasn't going to be over. Indeed, the sword had yet to be drawn. The Glare wasn't going to kill the man... it'd been used many timed before and the way it was used this time, was just going to do the damage it did... no death. All the waiting and watching was for making sure that indeed, that attack wasn't fatal. Omi could have attacked with lethal intent, but indeed he didn't. As such, Laz wasn't going to increase the lethality. The line was visible and as long as things stayed as gentlemanly as two people fighting for dominance and advancement in the ranks could keep it, then it wouldn't be crossed.
Lazenca had only landed three hits, however strong they were. He didn't expect that someone who made it this far would be felled in three blows. It would be nice, absolutely... but Lazenca wasn't counting on it at all. When Omi made his way to a standing position and spoke, Lazenca nodded. Indeed, indeed.
A fire beast? Ha... I've stood against he who has Essence. I should be fine here.
The sword was drawn and Lazenca shifted his feet to keep his body facing Omi. He stood up straighter, right arm handing while the left was horizontal. Would he be able to fell this man, who seemed to turn into a monster? Time would tell. This next volley had to be a good one... and a quick one, because now Omi had an idea of how strong Laz was, and was much more likely to pile on the pain.
And OH. Don't diss the video game comparisons, yo. scream
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Posted: Thu Jan 04, 2007 8:14 pm
It had been a fine spirited match thus far, between these two combatants; and no doubt, that would be how it were until the very end. However, Barsait was no longer in a calm demeanor. All aching traces of boredom, reserve, exhaustion - such petty elements that had bore him down, were quickly burning away, along with the air around the newly reawakened swordsman. Still, Omi did have intent in his actions besides pursuing & securing a possible victory: Testing. Only in situations that threatened his well-being, could he truly begin to test his boundaries & reshape his general battle scheme; also, in the rush of the bout, he could find new adaptations to his "ability". Needless to say, he intended for this bout to be no different at all in that aspect. Whether he walked away as a Barton Branch Round IV contestant, or as nothing more than a future spectator - he craved bringing something of a reward, of a betterment of his own being, with him.
Already, he was pondering an action he performed in the Number 66 match of Round II. His entire body rung with a zeal now; truly, although it would probably bring unpleasant repercussions later - Omi felt great. As though all his moments prior, his being had just been idly slumbering, and now, the mercenary was finally alert. "Expansion shouldn't detract from the overall impact at all. It didn't against both 66, and against Sin.. Heh, alright, time for a quick bout of payback." Teeth like a demon's fangs in that glistening heat - Barsait eyed his opponent whom shifted to keep in alignment with himself.. and suddenly stopped in a relatively northeast direction from Miranda's perspective. Tossing his blade down so some three inches of the edge tore snuggly into the sands; before his arms rose up rapidly.
Next, festering from his skin, emitting as it had so many times before: A single serpent came out, it's "mouth" parting and making the mimicked motions of a true snake. This seemed hardly impressive, giving the odd transformation Barsait had undergone. At least, until his right hand - the one that had fashioned the snake - made the simplest of motions. Index & middle fingers began to part, then the rest of the fingers did. Tips facing outward, entire hand stretching out it's fingers as much as possible - before the thumb & ring fingers went in different directions as well.
That was when a skeptic of that serpent's potency at causing harm would find their case removed. For the serpent, along with the fitting 'stretching' motion of the hand.. expanded. And rapidly, growing quite the number of times larger; until no longer could one aptly call it a coil. It appeared as though, of all things, the mercenary with blazes roaring about his body had a dragon surging from his palm - mouth dropping open with the softest sounds of motioning in the air, as though giving the extension of his body a message to all. That it's purpose was to devour it's opponent.
No sooner had it began to expand, however, than his left hand thrusted downward; and yet another serpent came rushing out, whilst the mercenary quickly mimicked his prior actions to make yet another man-sized monstrosity of crimson light come gushing outward. If this display was not enough, than perhaps, the next would be: For Barsait now seemed to be raising his index & middle fingers of the right hand upward, forcing the other three into a fist; shaking, trembling.. then in one swift motion, a growl emitting from his fangs - he made a cutting motion in mid-air. And the true extents of his recent 'training' was revealed.
The fierce red beings were not attached to his hands. They were not attached to his body. Barsait was now controlling these without the path leading straight to he.
Igniting at small places of the superficial "dragons", like the 'fangs' or 'eyes' - these beastly forces were rotating about in the air, as though patiently awaiting Lazenca Miranda's own actions. Was Barsait going to mimic his prior style, and wait for his opponent to fall into his range..?
As his right hand calmly grasped the Caladbolg's handle, and ripped it from the sandy Earth - a quick, yet light palm-motion forward, bizarrely and perhaps mockingly similar to Lazenca's own signal to his own attacks earlier, suggested that no - Barsait had all intentions to now hound on his opponent worse than ever before. For at this small gesture, those roaring masses - igniting flames along the way, like cyclones of flame with that unnatural yet ever present cutting force lining them - were circling in on Miranda. One coming directly at the fighter, mouth halves open as if it would actually devour prior to inflaming the enemy; the other, swooping upward some twenty feet, before going into a steep arc that sung downward at the fighter like a Hellish monstrosity that had decided to re-enter the ring's ground floor. And if, past the grand heat that emitted off Barsait, Lazenca could get a clear gaze at his opponent's face - he would see a grin, before the swordsman began closing their own distances. Moving forward whilst stepping to the left, then right nimbly - making an uncertain line of motion.
By now, the crowd had quite a number of things to either be impressed by, or baffled over. For one & two, obviously, the now-howling fiends intending to swarm over Lazenca - and, the newly ablaze Barsait. But then, the third, now focused on the swordsman himself: was his speed. It was easily triple the running speed he had displayed earlier, or perhaps farther; Hell, at that rate, one could surmise he would lap his own monstrous entities, though even they were thundering with remarkable agility. And those feet of his, flames gashing about beneath them, seemed to - thanks to said flames - receive next to no real resistance from the ground at all! To say the least, would Lazenca manage to maneuver around those ever-closer beasts of flames that were now exploding to life in a screaming descent & charge - he would immediately have Omi bolting after him.
Right arm shifting the blade against the currents of wind, horizontally and to his own right - Omi's left arm remained at his side, body swerving in as though he truly were preparing to charge in at some kind of prey.
[~----] And, them video game comparisons be WHACK! Where's and the Gundams!?
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Posted: Fri Jan 05, 2007 9:56 pm
Lazenca wasn't going to let Omi just have his way with everything, if possible. Not another waiting game because as funny or lame as the comparisons were... this was no video game, where time usually paused as intricate setup motions were being made. This was no cartoon, and Lazenca was under no obligation to let Omi actually finish what he was doing. He'd changed his body, wasn't that enough?
To stay, to wait and counter. At this distance, they were going to be repeating what had happened before, with the timing to do a hardcore fire attack there... and Lazenca was probably going to be roasted with something hotter than before. Indeed, waiting was dangerous. But was it any more dangerous than rushing in? Omi had at least the time to conjure the coil, his mainstay attacking element. And now, the sword. Quick movements had saved Lazenca from getting burned, but could the same movements save him from a larger coil set, a larger man, and a sword?
Only way to find out.
"Damn it, I'm starting to fight like him... rushing in headfirst."
He ran, and his shadow stepped in perfect time. He'd dodged them before, proving to be faster than the coils. Close calls, flame all around, roaring and heating the cooled air. He ran in a wide circle to the right, doing everything his canine body would allow him to not get taken by the larger, unattatched coils of the beast named Omi. The patch of burned sand smelled like an old bonfire and well-learned lessons. Omi need not worry about covering so much space with his speed, because Lazenca was going to match, and break it. Push the limits, go for broke, all that good stuff.
This fire... he couldn't be afraid of it. It was only going to get worse from here.
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