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 Posted: Sat Jun 24, 2006 9:22 pm
"Ah, yes...all is well. I specilise in blades that utilise spirit energy...and now that I think of it, demons...yes...like my Oni Ittou..." finished Kuro, mumbling at the end.
"Oh, of course. How is this. A blade, to your specifacations, with the ability to control demonic spirit energy. If you agree I shall start right away..."
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Posted: Sat Jun 24, 2006 9:27 pm
Kuro_Tsuwamono "Ah, yes...all is well. I specilise in blades that utilise spirit energy...and now that I think of it, demons...yes...like my Oni Ittou..." finished Kuro, mumbling at the end. "Oh, of course. How is this. A blade, to your specifacations, with the ability to control demonic spirit energy. If you agree I shall start right away..."
This group that associated with Fas.. none of them were of the 'average level', so to speak - they all had something to them of skill. This reminded Omi just how badly he'd need to train himself prior to the branch opening - but for now, he was rather pleased that he'd be receiving such a gift. "If you wish, I could give you some gold to compensate for the work. I don't have very much, but if you'd like it, accept it with my gratitude."
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Posted: Sat Jun 24, 2006 9:36 pm
Kuro shook his head.
"Hmph...I am a very rich man, belive it or not. Money is not a problem for me...now, I will be off. Farewell..."
With that, Kuro walked through the doors of the gym, heading for the dorms...
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Posted: Sat Jun 24, 2006 9:40 pm
With a shrug of his shoulders, Wyvern watched the transaction going on. Demonic energy spirit blade, indeed. Soulsteel wasn't really anything new. 'Course, he didn't know much about forging a blade, so he had no room to criticize.
Oh well. Not that anybody would be able to use the b*****d arts of magic, psionics, or energy against him anyway.
With a shrug, he left.
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Posted: Mon Jun 26, 2006 11:05 pm
Omi felt a bit humbled. It was truely kind of Kuro to craft such a blade without payment - and with all the aid the Forces had given recently, even if unintentional - he had to feel a bit of gratitude towards them. However, he cleared his mind of such matters most quickly. The time was starting to catch up to him. Soon, his branch would start.. And his first match would be underway.
It bothered him so. He had watched some matchs undergone in other branches, and some of the abilities of other beings about the arena through other means. It wasn't so much the sheer 'power' any of said beings weld that daunted him, perse' - rather, it was the versitality. This tournament seemed to've become incredibly more popular than he could have imagined it to've ever became in a short time. More and more surprises just seemed to pile upon him as he entered this 'Tenkaichi Budoukai'.
"Days.. I may only have a matter of days until the Barton begins." He slowly turned back to the sand bag, eyes narrowing slightly. "I'll have to dedicate every day and night to getting into a desired condition and stamina. Then, the night prior.. I'll see how far this can go." Planting his left fist into right palm, Omi cracked his knuckles for a moment - giving a slight 'pop' here and there, before assuming his earlier stance. He then assaulted the sandbag again with a flurry of jabs and subsequent, rough flurries with his alternate hand. The bag was flowing against it's wall behind it - before being forced back forward, being struck again. The rhythm of his strikes didn't relent at all.
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Posted: Tue Jun 27, 2006 2:16 pm
It was her first time here at the tournament, and the moment she arrived and registered, she headed straight for track. Aleksandra, or 'Alice' rather, needed to improve in more areas than one. She had a while before the spots for Commerce was filled, and it would give her time to shapen up before then.
She ran for about a half an hour, at intervals of ten minutes, taking a short minute-lengthed water break between each run. By the end of all of it, she was exhausted. Alice strolled back into the gym to retrieve her bag. It contained most of her equipment for the tourniment, including her whip, which was coiled neatly at the bottom of the black tote bag. Her black bat-like wings were folded neatly behind her, her tail curled up around her right thigh.
Once she stepped into the gym, she hauled up her bag, resting it against her hip as she drew out a new water bottle, taking a careful sip. Out of the corner of her eye, she carefully watched Omi, her gaze following his every movement. /That/ was what she needed to work on. Alice didn't have much brute force, and didn't rely on her ability to punch the crap out of her opponent..But if that was what she had to do to win, she needed to be prepared. Observing somebody who could hit like that and picking up some pointers by herself couldn't hurt.
♥ ♥ ♥
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Posted: Sat Jul 01, 2006 2:45 pm
Again, the mercenary made his way into the gym entrance. Except, this time, he was no stranger to the tournament; he had fought his first match. Even now, with the cries of the crowd long behind him, it still felt like the battle wasn't over.. like any minute now, it would begin again - and his opponent would rise once more. Yet, he knew this was foolish to think; he had..
"I actually won.." Gazing loftily at his left hand, the realization continuously sank in. But, slowly, that same hand formed a fist, as he quickly stepped over to the nearest punching bag with a determined glare. The sword sheath, the gauntlets.. both dropped to the ground in an instant, as he stood but a bit ahead of the nearest bag - right hand coming up in front of the left.
Then, he began weaving back and fourth in place rapidly. An offensive stance for sure, as his fists began tearing into the bag with grand force - wrists springing into furious blows. His spirits seemed a little higher, at the moment. However, he still intended to prepare all he could for the next match; after all, to him, his previous victory.. may have just been luck.
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Posted: Mon Jul 03, 2006 12:03 am
Hiroki is suddenly in a corner of the gym, seemingly to have come out of nowhere. Even though it was simply a specialized form of travel, he walked out of the shadows. Looking around at all the people, he called out.
"Anyone care to have a friendly spar?"
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Posted: Mon Jul 03, 2006 12:37 am
A jab there with his left hand striking outward, body poised back - then a right hook on the inside. Omi was assaulting another bag, the first long having gotten worn, even at this light pace. Hours and hours, he had been working at this just that day; and from the looks of things, the mercenary had little intention to stop.
However, at hearing the poised question, his left hand gently slipped across the side of the sand bag before him - forcing it to a stop, as his right knuckle came to his forehead, wiping some sweat from it. After a moment, he turned to this man. Truthfully, Omi hadn't seen him come in; but, he wasn't paying attention anyway, so it didn't bother him much.
"Hey, I'll gladly spar you, if you're interested." Push ups, punching bags, lifting weights, running.. none of it could impart more upon a fighter than an actual living, thinking opponent, so Omi believed. And plus, a friendly bout would make the time pass by easier before he went to the new dorm which he'd acquired that very same day, for some much enjoyed rest.
The gym was designed with such a sparring request in mind, for through a rather large doorway that was always open to the north side of the room, a 'dojo' laid. Authentic in design or no, it was designed well for the ridgors of sparring - floor and walls designed extremely tough, well lit, white walls and brown rims; weapons even lining the walls, for those whom wished to get a tad more "serious". Already, Omi was recovering his breath - rotating one shoulder, then the next to get nice and limber for the match ahead. His gauntlets were removed, as was his sword sheath - but, his chain mesh beneath his clothing was now.
"Ah, would you excuse me for just a sec'? I'll be right back." Giving a quick, sheepish laugh - Omi stepped away from the punching bags. Towards one of the nearby, eastern wall adorned changing rooms - after all, a Gym would need those for assorted reasons. And so, the mercenary opened a vacant one, and stepped inside - shutting the door behind him.
Several moments passed, before he came stepping back out, dressed as usual - but with the chain mesh held aloft by his right hand. Omi lazily threw it on top of the gauntlets, but immedietely regretted it with a very light cringe. For the moment it actually touched the ground, the reprocussions began. It was an extremely loud thud - much louder than when his gauntlets had dropped. In fact, it rang a little in the gym..
"s**t. That was a little loud.." Deciding to keep his boots on for grounding, Omi couldn't help but feel extremely relaxed. Perhaps, because that was the first time he hadn't worn that metal mesh in many a day. His entire body felt light as a feather..
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Posted: Tue Jul 04, 2006 1:58 pm
* GTB, the second day *
Despite the fact that the tournament is well underway, Trei has found himself with nothing to do. And, while boredom itself is bad, Trei is suffering from a mixture of boredom and restlessness, brought on by a sort of "combat blue-balls." His opponent had quit before their match could even get started, and the only other person he'd gotten to fight had just kind of...given up, halfway through their fight.
So, with nothing better to do, Trei hits the gym, the soft thud of his boots his only companion as he enters the dojo alone. He's left Honour and Glory behind for the day...he needs to practice unarmed, or he'll end up relying too heavily on his guardian's old blades.
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Posted: Tue Jul 04, 2006 2:20 pm
How nice, he has the place to himself... means that he won't have to worry too much about how much space his workout takes up. A live opponent would be better, but you've gotta work with what you're given, even in a fantasy game.
After moving to the centre of the floor, the young man closes his eyes and allows all the muscles in his body to loosen, his arms suddenly hanging apparently limp at his sides. All stress, all anger, all hurt, everything was expelled from the young man's body in a single breath, and only one thought rang throughout the boy's mind.
3...2...1... "Go..."
The single word rings in the empty room and the young man's body suddenly dips forward, the fingers of his right hand brushing across the ground in a motion as if he were drawing some sort of liquid into a glass...and then, he swings up and back, the upper body bending all the way so that his head is parallel to the ground as the hand touches his lips in a pantomime of drinking. His feet never move from their positions, shoulder-width apart on the dojo's floor, even as his body straightens back up...
A snap of cloth, the sound of his right foot suddenly slamming onto the ground ahead of his left...his arms are held out in front of his body, hands held as if clutching bottles, elbows crooked ever so slightly in. Jiu Quian...the Drunkard's fist.
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Posted: Tue Jul 04, 2006 3:02 pm
The pause in the Drunkard stance doesn't last long...suddenly, his right arm arcs back and then slams forward in a powerful strike...only to swerve down as the young man suddenly throws his body into a flip, landing on the same hand's palm as his right heel whips up and over his body in a vicious arc followed by it's brother...the heel slams into the ground with a resounding crash, spared from shattering by the padding of the young man's boots, followed by a second slam that signals the bottom-first landing of his left foot.
Immediately, he rolls to the left and pushes up off the ground, both legs shooting beneath him to provide support as he thrusts his upper body back and up, thrusting back with his left elbow as if trying to slam it into an opponent's gut, allowing his body to lean back as if it's lost control...
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Posted: Wed Jul 05, 2006 8:49 pm
The lean turns into a backwards roll, which then proceeds to metamorphose into a springing mule kick powered by just about every muscle in the boy's body...he actually lifts off the ground and sails back almost a yard, landing on the balls of his feet with ease...
Not waiting around, Trei charges forward at an invisible opponent, leaping off the ground and whipping his body in a 360 degree spin, his foot shooting out in a deadly snap kick at his non-existent foe...the force of the kick is such that it actually jerks his entire body behind it. He uses this momentum to lead into yet another aerial attack, a left-handed falling punch that crashes into the ground with a resounding SLAM...
*Level Up*
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Posted: Wed Jul 05, 2006 9:56 pm
[Well, since Trei's caused some time to go by, and my to-be sparring partner doesn't seem to be responding.. ]
A dumbell, "70 lbs." crafted upon each end, fell to the tough flooring of the gym. Then, another. Omi was panting heavily, sweat lining his skin all over; his gauntlets, his boots, and the mesh which he often wore still upon him. Adding even more weight onto his body during these exercises. Every day, he came here and focused his body farther - worked harder, trained harder, ran farther and struck faster. His arms and legs felt weary at the time being, for this day alone, he had worked and worked at furthering himself but a few minutes after waking until the current time.
His resting periods were minimal at best, and his eyes were blazingly intense. Slowly rolling up with a quick exhale, then rapid inhale - forcing himself to recatch the tempo of his normal breathing, the mercenary used his left palm to raise himself up a bit, before coming to his feet. Then, he quickly stepped over to the punching bags - even this simple couple of movements set in a pace as though he were exercising - and began assaulting it with rapid jabs from either hand, fists coming up just a few inches in front of his chin.
Ripping the gauntlets off after a few strikes, letting them drop to the ground as he'd well gotten used to - Omi rammed his fists against it again, knuckles looking rather red at the moment. A right hook from the inside to the left.. a left straight right into the center..
Then, he seemed to lose his balance.
"Gah!" The mercenary comically attempted to catch his balance, as his right hand greezed along the sandbag - but then, as his feets planted themselves firmly in balance once more.. his expression seemed rather odd. Both his eyes were investigating the sandbag quite closely. For.. there was an extremely small, horizontal opening in the bag. So thin, the lower and upper end practically came together and kept it's contents inside; luckily so. However...
Placing his left foot back, right shoulder forward - Omi assumed a basic stance, right fist up in front of his face vertically, left hand towards the stomach - held out horizontally. Then, he tried to mimick what he just clumbsily and mistakingly performed but moments ago - thrusting his fist forward, like a straight punch - but at the last moment before it came to the bag, turning entirely to the left, performing a horizontal flicker at the edge of the bag. Putting what force into it he could.
Another 'cut' was observed, as Omi withdrew his right hand back to it's original placing. He was throwing his full bodyweight into the strike - but then, just before it would outstretch to his opponent, forcing himself to avert the weight in an opposite direction - and flicking his fist to the side at the very moment it made that minimal contact. The right straight would make an opponent believe they were about to be hit at the shoulder or face, throwing their arms up to block - only to receive this unpleasent strike. Provided they managed to even block.
Intrigued - breath still heavy, but recovering quickly - Omi began to repeat this act. Attempting it in the opposite position; left shoulder forward, right leg back, left hand being the assaultee. Using his non-dominant hand at any given time to give a blow to the bag's lower-mid side; a "liver blow", as it'd be caused, which would force an opponent in the direct line of the main fist to perform this little number. And, that's what he continued to do.
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Posted: Thu Jul 06, 2006 7:35 pm
Drip, drip...beads of sweat fall from the young man's nose as he stands back up, shaking off his rapidly-bruising knuckles. Not his brightest move...but it was a good follow-through, and he might be able to use that kinda motion in battle sometime. Why people don't like aerial attacks, the young man will never know...
It had been a nice workout...short, but intense, and full of motion. His muscles are nice and loosened out, and if he's lucky, he'll get to put his body through an even nicer workout later, on the arena floor...
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