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 Posted: Fri Mar 27, 2009 6:59 pm
"Against the law?"
This was where things started hurting.
Some men THOUGHT they liked her mad, were amused-but once she hurt them, then they suddenly thought her a b***h, and one who needed to be shown a lesson. It was annoying and incredibly sexist-they gave her unwanted attention, and when she finally was pushed to react violently, they decided to express their anger. Like the God damned idiot who had kissed her during a fight-she'd bitten through his lip, the son of a b***h-and he had proceeded to beat her face in.
b*****d.
Either he'd crush her death or decide to throw her down and stomp on her dumb a**, or maybe walk into the water to hold her under the surface until she drowned-an entire roster of possible things he'd do in retribution ran through her head faster than thought should have been possible for a human, however clever-and thus the strong desire to get away from him. Arian shouldn't have stabbed him-but that's how she was. It didn't matter you were bigger or badder or stronger than she was-she'd knife you anyway, and deal what damage she could.
It was part of the reason she was so dangerous-complete and utter lack of fear. Or maybe she really WAS insane. There were a lot of theories.
But...the crazy ******** SMILES at her. Had to be kidding. That didn't bother him? At all!?
Wasn't often Arian ran into people who surpassed or matched her pain tolerance. Considering what she'd gone through to gain hers, it always kind of bothered her when she did run into it. Vibrantly colored eyes widened at his statement, then FLARED with fire. "For your throat next time-" She shot at him violently, twisting so she wouldn't have to face him-but it was awkward and she couldn't struggle out of his grasp-so she ended up right back again. Babe. Her name was ARIAN, dammit-the smell of blood hit her next. Coppery sort of scent-only this was intensified by quite a ******** bit.
Jesus-did she hit an artery or something? It really kind of made her dizzy, just a bit, a feeling she fought off with sheer willpower. "You're going to bleed ou-" Accented words cut off when he darted off again. ?! ********!
Arian's body tensed immediately, and she didn't struggle with him anymore-like hell she wanted to be dropped at these speeds, trampled on. Arian had a motorcycle-a couple, actually-and liked to drive FAST-but on a bike, SHE was in control, and right now-Vince was.
And Arian didn't have much faith in ANY outside party not to hurt her or majorly ******** up, somehow. She didn't CLING to him-pride didn't allow that-but she sure as hell wasn't looking to see where they were going either-kept her head tucked down and her arms close in, right next to the muscled and possibly bleeding out man-was it good for him to be going so fast if he was bleeding so much?-and really, really, really hoping he didn't drop
Came to a stop and she was let down, dizzy, swayed just a second before her left foot stepped out to steady herself, Arian shaking her head to clear it-and then she sees the knife.
Her expression was priceless. Utter disbelief. He was...going to...give it BACK!?
Her eyes dropped to his thigh, expression forced back into impassive-and without looking at it, she took the knife back. Well...technically...she HAD stabbed him, like she had said...so...she didn't need to do so again. Damn that smell was strong. Eyes flicked upwards to find Vince's again-and she narrowed her own, vibrant, expressive, Caribbean blue eyes seeming to be trying to figure him out.
"...dammit." And with that, she turned and went into the bar, not walking AWAY from him, really-not ditching, more like...just...needing to go inside now, because he was something else and she had to think on it.
"You're seriously warning me of that? Seriously?"-Arian Lennox
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Posted: Sat Apr 04, 2009 10:36 am
The nearest outlet from Hanging Neck Island's Hotel Kubikukuri gave way to the aptly named "Hanged Man's Park." All pleasant names that gave tournament participant Omi Barsait a vibe befitting the tournament's name: he was wallowing in a region shrouded by darkness in every sense of the word. Yet, his toothy grin - four canines pronounced, spearheaded his movements through the park interior; his spectacles allowing glints of light to play off the wide lens.
Benches, trees, grass, dirt, soil, sand - on and on the sword for hire walked, trudging at first mere pavement set aside benches, then making his way along the various paths leading towards the northern-end coast of the island. Although his steps were calm, almost deliberately so as to daunt any passer-byers - his expression was.. outright impatient. Practically lustful; his pupils shakily dancing about to gaze at a destination he could not even view yet. "My entire body is just on fire. All of the calories burned, all of the days spent biding my time - is this the culmination of it all? Is the anticipation for combat.." Left boot crashing an interfering bush aside, his thoughts prevailed: "That steeped in me now? I would hate to reveal this in front of others, but my how excited I am; how eager I am to see the first round."
Chain mesh beneath his dark cloth attire making audible sounds of rustling whilst his body maneuvered nimbly despite it, the two snake-head pauldrons of his swayed only the slightest hair of an inch with each movement of the man's shoulders -
All a prelude to his arrival at the destination sought.
Supposedly, there was a cave hidden within the mouth of the northern mountain - a natural site for the unnatural to craft their capabilities into something further evolved. Yet this story was not of the slightest interest to Barsait, or at least.. for the moment it was not. Instead, the premise of an incline underground, amidst what is basically a giant rock-pile surrounded by the sea, made him most curious.
"Hm! So, this is that ominous place hinted at by the "locals" now, is it?" Craning his head upward to get a good look at the mouth of the cave in full, his left hand had silently fallen to his side rather than remain housed comfortably within a pocket. The light of day glimmered across those glasses' lens, obscuring his eyes - though his vocalized words spoke where his expression could not: "Curious. Hopefully, it has a strong foundation. I won't need a rock-slide before I make one myself, after all." Lurching forward head-first, the fighter proceeded to step forward slowly, the heated air from outside being blown aside by the contrasting cool air below the area's surface.
Moisture proceeded to cling to Barsait's skin.
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Posted: Sat Apr 04, 2009 6:17 pm
One step ebbed into another. The 'cave' turned out to run far deeper than Barsait originally had predicted. Water coasted along the bottom of his boot treads; the cool air mingled with his skin, though perhaps it was the silence that gripped him more than anything. Dull yet audible traces of air gusting through. Smooth stone with a translucent blue exterior surrounded him, appearing to almost swallow his soul within it.
"Hah.. well, I suppose the stories about this place aren't just over-hyped rhetoric." Pores all over his body were pulsing that slight crimson hue. Yet, footsteps still carrying him onward more and more, his target came into view.
A large rock-based structure, rising several feet above Omi's head loomed in the middle of the next cove. Easily weighing several tons, it was a monstrous demonstration of what nature could produce given the time. Small pools of moisture oozed down the vein-like cracks of the structure, the only thing standing before it being the dark-clad fighter. As his lips gave way to one visible puff of air after another, both of those amber-brown eyes were grating the rock's surface.
"Usually, I find myself out-weighed, out-strengthened, out-ran; in pure attributes, there are monsters capable of snapping my spine over their knee, and demons capable of running rings around me. As much as I love engaging in a nice, clear-cut brawl, it is not enough. And my manipulation art used as it has been, has its limitations. It is therefore the unity of my body, my mind, and what my blood can produce, that is the key to sustained victory." Both arms at his sides now, exposed to the cool mist striking his person - Barsait suddenly crashed his left palm over the same side's eye, grasping his face as though to protect it.
"Mm.." Teeth flashing, this time in something of a grimace- as a single crimson "serpent" flew from his backside, winding through the black fabric before the snake's mouth gushed open. Between the top and bottom halves.. was a pulsating eyeball. Slowly relieving his left hand of its duty, his left eye was now shown to have all of the white replaced with a fierce, almost glowing blood red.
Vision transferred from the left eye to the serpent's end, Barsait was now seeing in something of a split-screen vision barely divided between one-another by a sort of blur; vertical halves. The right, the cave before him. The left.. his own backside.
Flicking his right hand's fingertips about, six points on the man's back pulsated- and out sprouted six serpents, symmetrical to one another, guided with care to arch over his back.
Picturing the action in his head via a very simple six-dot diagram:
Barsait proceeded to guide each point little by little, until they were set into place. Finally, the 7th serpent and the first extending his vision, retracted into the man's back whilst his left eye metamorphosed back into normalcy with an implied degree of pain.
There, Omi stood. Six serpents, two lower than his waists, two at his shoulders' crest, and two arching over his head - all extended two feet ahead of himself, serpent "head" first. One could look right through them, like distorted rays of the sun. Yet, it would he was not at all done yet.
Sarcastically using the right hand to snap his fingers, that barely audible 'pop' gave way to six eruptions. The heads had ignited into balls of flame; more ovular than perfectly spherical, but kept in perfect form whilst the fire danced in the air, all roughly the size of an average sized man's fist each. Condensed.. concentrated, these infernos danced in that six-point arrangement, 'til Barsait extended his fists at his waist, one bend at the elbow each, to complete the 8-point set.
Sweat flowing slowly along his brow, Barsait began to envision the boulder before him as something other than itself. A vague, non-detailed mass of a fighter, in a cliche' fighting pose with one arm and leg forward.
Lengthy hair scattered aside from his eyes, revealing his face in full - a wild expression suddenly tore across Barsait's face, his mouth forming the words in a manner almost like a howl: "Futile. My mind and body are honed to a razor edge. I will rip your every fiber apart without the slightest relent."
His voice holding a gruff element to it now, his adrenaline seemed to be getting the best of him; picturing the enemy mass's left fist beginning to move, both of Omi's eyes shot wide-open as he outright roared: "I SAID, FUTILE!!"
"Futile futile FUTILE FUTILE FUTILE FUTILE-" Suddenly snapping into something of a berserk frenzy, both of his fists shot forward from that neutral stand and erupted into the surface of the massive boulder. Even as his gauntlets' metal knuckle-tips drove home into the rock like drills, his tongue extended out with a single tendril of saliva - back arcing forward, as the tongue began flicking wildly with feral howls extending past it, guiding the serpent heads to their targets by allowing the tip to manipulate the dot arrangement in his head.
The upper-left serpent flame gushed in with an arcing hook - the mid-right, jutting forward in a single stab. All at once, his fists and the six flames became one single entity, all barraging the surface of the rock in a flurry from hell, all whilst his mind pictured those strikes as hitting body parts; singing an arm from its shoulder, crushing knuckles into the figure's ribs and cracking them into dust & sinew.
One crash after another, augmented by what sounded like Molotov cocktails crashing against pavement in rapid succession - the noise tore through the sanctity of the cave like a blade through paper, and onward this continued for twenty odd seconds or so, 'til finally, the lower-right serpent retracted its strike.. and the damage was left to witness.
The "boulder" was now nothing more than crushed rock littering the ground all around Barsait's torso, much of it steaming whilst some of the jagged pieces' edges had gone as far as to melt. All that remained of the original structure, was a very small portion of the base - perhaps an inch or so off the cave floor, if that.
Now all one could hear in that once pristine training ground for "apparitions," was slow panting - every now and again, a hint of laughter. Then, as though composing himself, the serpents without their flames in tow retracted into the young man's flesh; tongue long back in its rightful place, teeth clenched together in a triumphant if not arrogant grin. Yes, as he stood upright in with more dignified posture, only the sweat being cooled off by the low-elevation air, and the damage surrounding him told the tale of what had just occurred.
Yet, as Barsait seemed to gather himself in all senses of the phrase, the lone figure offered one audible word to remark on this situation: "Adequate."
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Posted: Mon Apr 06, 2009 10:20 pm
It took a while, but having gotten the directions directly from the Hotel staff this time, the swordsman was nontheless pleased on how he managed to get here without getting lost in the process. Sure, his more than adequate skills in traveling surely wouldn't get him lost on a mere island, of all places, but often information or maps CAN be misleading...
Provided that the source of the information is reliable or not. Eavesdropping and social skills also come into play here, but that would be besides the point as it would make the swordsman rant on on how he managed to get here with some newly acquired common sense...lacking, as it may be.
Anyways.
He had heard from some of the staff members and some passing contestants on this peculiar place that is fit for fights and - in some cases - personal training. While he wouldn't want to let others see what he'll be developing under this otherwise open area, the need to get the idea down before he forgets it is vital for the fight that would come soon, eventually.
And fighting half-assed like he did back in HoH would only be a moral blow to him if he doesn't fight seriously for once.
Now, where to begin...?
The swordsman lifted his halberd from his left shoulder, using his right hand to guide the lower end of the staff while the handle, near the sharp edge of the axe was guided by his left hand. Bracing it so that the weapon would be held horizontally parallel to the ground and to his own respective left, he cocked the top edge of the Halberd close to his left torso - keeping the weight moderately balanced and mobile enough to move at a moment's whim if necessary.
Remember the feeling.
Magic permeated out of his body like a colored dye through clear water - being focused and condensed as it leeched off of the moisture near the swordsman's influence. Gathering it - infecting the water with his own magic; drawing it close to his body in order to build up it's offensive and defensive value for use.
The only problem is the amount of time it took and any surplus amount of water source nearby for use. In this case, in an area that is relatively all right with humidity - being on an island and all - it didn't take long for the swordsman to manifest an orb no larger than a penny near his halberd, floating idly about in a lazy fashion.
An orb that does seem pretty harmless...unless one can foresee the amount of water condensed into a miniscule size that is much too small to be actually stable for use.
Now...to make a completely brand new move...
Don't worry about the details.
Don't think about the constraints.
Something that puts me in a sudden advantage...
The swordsman closed his eyes, the orb of water beginning to spin centrifugally in a slow, yet increasing pace.
Defensive.
Offensive.
Defensive.
Offensive.
".......!"
Got it.
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Posted: Tue Apr 07, 2009 5:20 pm
Swordsmen were rather common, but, it wasn't often that you found two of them meeting up randomly. Nor was it common that you found one which was creating magical spheres of water, and another which was dressed very.. heavily. True enough, Vincent was a bit more of a berserker of sorts, yet, he still considered himself a swordsman, if.. you considered that monstrous thing that was strapped between his shoulder-plates a sword. Pitch-black and viciously curved, the sword was six feet long; a foot and a half in the hilt, four-and-a-half feet in the blade. The sword was huge, and weighed roughly ninety pounds, but for Vince, that proved to be only a minor agitation.
"Arian seemed to do a number on.."
At that instant, Vincent froze in his place and grinned. He hadn't much been expecting to run into anyone, nor, had he expected to run into a man that he vaguely remembered. During the GTB II, Vincent had stood in the stands and cheered on Snow during his fight with that firey-headed woman.. Roja? Was that her name? Vincent shrugged his massive shoulders which caused his blackened armor to creak and move in response. Speaking of the armor, it was a bit different, and obviously, Vincent had decided to wear it in preparation for the start of the tournament. He only had a few kinks to work out in his fighting style, seeing as how Arian had helped him with the majority of that, but, he needed to get used to this spike variation of his armor.
Enchanted armor it was, meant to withstand extreme heat and cold, and be a tad bit more resistant to being ripped to shreds due to magical enhancements and things of the such. Of course, this magic would not protect against normal weapons, or strikes that were strong enough. It was really just a protection that was put on the armor for pretty much no reason. Vincent had told them no, but the creator insisted, and Vincent wasn't going to complain because the creator had custom-made the armor for his massive form. So, there the 6'11" monster was, armed in full-blown enchanted plate-armor.
The back of the armor was held together with two heavy leather straps wrapped in thin sheet iron criss-crossing across his back from his shoulders, and connecting to the leggings, which were also strapped to his legs. Vince's back was pretty much exposed, but he rarely gave opponents and opportunity to fight his back, so, it was fine. The front of the armor, and his arms, which were also covered, had spikes sticking out at random places. Nasty steel spikes were melded into the armor and magically bound to the armor so that they would no longer rip off, as the original form of the armor had done.
His feet were covered in massive steel boots which wrapped up a little bit of his ankles, but the tops were covered by the front part of the armor. The backs of his legs, as with the rest of his back-side, was pretty much exposed. The only part of his back that wasn't exposed was around his neck and shoulders where the shoulder-plates covered Vince's neck and a small portion of his back and shoulder-blades. This armor that Vince was wearing wasn't all of it. During the tournament, Vincent had a thin iron plate that he would fit across the back beneath the straps, but he had no need for it now.
He stepped towards Snow and gave the swordsman a greeting of a heavily armored hand in a massive, clawed gauntlet(Will explain more as needed) waving as it moved to the hilt that was on his back. This showed a weakness in the arm-pits of the armor, but, Vincent was not sure if Snow would pay attention. Then again, against an opponent like Vince, you couldn't afford not to. It was all about out-smarting these kinds of opponents, of course, Snow would definitely not expect what Vince had in-store as a surprise. He stopped away from Snow, probably a good twenty-five feet, and spoke softly.
"Well, Snow.. I cheered for you in the GTB, and now, I want you to know who I am. First, I'll give you my name.. but everything else.. you'll find out on your own." With that, Vince's right hand, the one that had gone over his head, removed the massive sword and held it lazily at his side, the tip pointed diagonally at the ground. Vince's left hand, and it's respective clawed gauntlet, rose upwards, in-front of Vince's face. He began to speak quietly to himself, and with a grin, he finished his rhythmic spell and pushed his hand forward, slowly drawing it back towards him.
The effects would not be known right away, but soon enough, Snow would feel the ball of water that he was magically controlling begin to shift forward as Vince's magic battled with his own. Vincent was not really undoing the spell, just using the water that Snow had brought up from around him, and pulling it towards him. Of course, as a dragon in disguise, Vincent had an arsenal of his own spells which would not really require resources or sources such as the ball of water, but he was curious to see how the man would react.
"Vincentius Alaphare of Team Draconic Fear. Show what you have, boy." With that, Vincent began to apply a bit more magical energy into his counter-spell, strengthening the pull of the water towards him.
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Posted: Tue Apr 07, 2009 6:45 pm
Well, it wasn't the first time the swordsman faced a brute that was geared to the teeth in armor and more massive armor. But finding the trend to be more annoying than normal, his eyes glanced over to a new distraction nearby, the eyes which quickly diverted to look at -
Technically, a buffed up brute with enough armor to probably withstand anything short of weapons designed for armor piercing.
Which, unfortunately, the swordsman lacks in his arsenal of attacks. Couldn't be helped though - normal weapons fail miserably in piercing through armor, which is why he bought a halberd to compensate for that problem, and magic to deal with heavy duty armored users.
In this case though...
"....Oh, THIS should prove interesting..." He hissed slowly under his breath in unease, feeling rather naked against someone who had some rather nice gears equipped on them. Unlike Vince with the armor, the only factors that the swordsman had was a pair of bracers worn on both sides of his arms, plus a nimble cloak and ordinary clothings that contained some flasks and his dual katanas - one blade strung lazily on each side of his hips.
The halberd was self-explanatory in its anti-armor design, more than 8 feet long, including the halberd axe, as it is already held and poised in a readied stance to his own respective left.
And now to find himself in this situation...
He'll have to make the best use of what he has in hand, which, is pathetically miniscule in comparison.
However...he does have some new attack ideas that is meant to fight against armored behemoth like the one standing before him.
But that would be a problem when he feels a strange tug of opposing magic trying to wrestle his fuel away from his presence, as if leeching away the necessary things that he needs to enhance his offensive capabilities.
<********, he's...taking my resources!
"Well then..." Snow commented in a sour voice, lowering his pose and using his right hand to point the pommel end of his halberd towards where Vince is, the sharp edge of the axe still held back with his left hand.
The watery orb, which was compressed to a size no larger than a penny and chock full of heavy pressure because of it was quickly tugged back towards his halberd - easily wrestled back into his personal control due to the swordsman injecting his own magic into the water beforehand - attaching itself to the back end of the halberd axe as if arming itself for this particular fight.
"Here I GO!"
With it, the swordsman charged directly forward in what seems to be a suicidal run against a completely armored foe, with only a few things to note;
His speed that he has because of his lack of armor, which was unexpectedly fast, and the way he's attacking - using the pommel end of the staff as if going for a direct thrust towards Vince's chest. Of course, that won't be the case when the swordsman halts just a few feet outside of Vince's weapon range - which would roughly be around 9 feet away from Vince himself - before he swung his halberd from his left in a horizontal slash aimed towards Vince's right hip.
Using the length of his halberd to his advantage, plus the transfer of momentum from his body towards his halberd as he lets part of it slide out of his hands to increase his own range and the force behind it...
All that is left to actually start his experimental strike, is Vince coming into contact with his Halberd.
The only question is if his weapon can actually come into contact with the opposition's body, or if the swordsman will have to use another attack idea to compensate for a possible miss from this swing.
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Posted: Tue Apr 07, 2009 7:26 pm
Vince let out a thunderclap of a laugh as Snow rushed towards Vince, not really feeling disappointed that Snow had recalled the water easily, seeing as how the magical energy that Vince was using in that attempt could now be used in another. He wasn't sure exactly what tactic he would use again Snow yet, but he had a fairly solid idea, which of course was cemented when Snow did exactly as he planned. So, this is what would happen, as Snow began running, Vincent watched carefully as the swordsman quickly neared.
"Fast... Damn.. thought this would be pure swordsmanship." Vincent let out another chuckle, and with a grin, he began chanting, swinging his left hand lazily through a quick pass. It was not a bright idea to be showing off all of the minor spells that Vince had prepared, but he figured that he'd be safe enough if he used them when needed, and in order to prevent a massive halberd from swinging it's way through his hip, despite his armor, he figured it was needed. So, when he finished chanting, shouting the last syllable, which sounded more like a low cough, he raised his right foot into the air and smashed it into the ground.
It seemed as if it were pointless. Really. What good would smashing your foot into the ground do, honestly? Even if there was magic cast, it had yet to manifest itself, and with the halberd coming quick, it looked as if Vincent were simply gambling. Snow probably thought that Vince was crazy, but, his magic showed itself in the nick of time, apparently. A massive wall of earth shot up from Vince's right side, coming up to a little bit above his hip, only a second before the halberd was meant to make contact with Vince's hip. He figured that it would be too quick of an amount of time for Snow to switch direction, so he would most likely have to hit the wall of stone.
It didn't matter if it shattered upon impact; he had wanted it to be temporary, because all he needed was a moment. Using the clawed gauntlet of his left hand, he quickly moved his hand behind his back and with a quick swipe, clean-cut the straps that held the armor to his front. The armor fell to the ground in a heap then, and Vincent simply looked down on it with a slight grin. Then, in the next moment after he discarded the chest-plate, his sword, and his right hand, even as he took a step forward with his right leading, came up to about level with his shoulder.
It looked as if he were about to throw the sword, which of course, would be stupid, but instead, Vincent quickly, and easily, swung the sword down and to the right, aiming to cleave right through the halberd's shaft. Having that weapon around would be rather.. boring, in Vincent's eyes.
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Posted: Tue Apr 07, 2009 10:26 pm
It wasn't the type of contact that the swordsman might have liked, but it was definitely a contact that is necessary for what he is about to do now.
Maximum FORCE!
When it finally clashed into the wall of stone which stopped the Halberd from cleaving into Vince's right hip, the swordsman immediately released his control over the orb of water attached behind the weapon upon impact, axe angled slightly upward, an unbelievably high amount of pressure being vented out in a direction from behind the axe...almost like having rocket boosters attached behind his weapon and firing the boosters as a result. While the stone caused most of the Halberds original inertia to be lost...the sudden release of pressure behind the weapon caused the Halberd to instantaneously re-accelerate in speed and build in force behind the release, similar to a pile driver as it added a tremendous amount of momentum behind the axe. Regardless if the swordsman swung or not during that action, the weight behind his horizontal slash beforehand paled in comparison to the weight behind the axe now - the orb giving the axe the inertia it needs this time.
It was an attack that is designed to deliver an insane amount of blunt force to knock almost any heavily armored behemoths off of their feet - and dent the hell out of their armor in the process. If it was only the orb itself, it would be like firing a fire hose at someone in full blast - knocking that person off their feet and having more than enough force behind the blast to throw them quite some distance back in blunt damage. But if augmented to a weapon...
Well, he has yet to see the result of how it fares augmented on the weapon.
So what came forth was a blow that has more than enough force to literally throw Vince off both his feet and tumbling to the sides from the blow, even with all that armor equipped, perhaps denting a small portion of it - just from the force itself.
However.
The swordsman had the axe angled a bit up, causing the halberd to not stay consistent in a horizontal slash...
But instead, in a diagonally upward slash instead.
And judging from Vince stepping in, the halberd would immediately rocket skywards towards his right armpit, enough force packed behind it to completely dismember Vince's right limb in a blink of an eye. Even if the swordsman's Halberd gets cleaved through and sliced in half, the orb itself was more than enough to also act as a small means of navigation to direct the top part of the axe towards its designated target with the results in mind.
But...depending if it succeeds or not, the swordsman would take a small step back and brandish a sharp edge of his halberd-now-turned-staff in a pose that can be interpreted for thrusts and/or stabs.
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Posted: Wed Apr 08, 2009 7:32 am
Well.. Snow certainly had Vincent stuck inbetween a rock and well.. a sharp place. Even though he'd stepped forward and cut the shaft of the halberd, he'd not planned for the water which had been stuck to the axe's head to act as a rocket guided system. Regardless, as a true swordsman, you learned always to expect the well.. unexpected. So, when Vincent felt rather than heard the axe head break it's way through the rest of the rock, and aim upwards for his own armpit, his immediate reaction was to try and knock the blade out of the way.
However.. he had no time to whisper spells, nor did he have time to interpose his heavy, well-crafted sword. So, instead, Vincent did the only thing that he could. When Vincent had released the straps which held the chest-plate part of the armor to his body, he had not released the separate shoulder plates. Though, the shoulder plates were now loosened, and not really strapped on, seeing as how the straps to those attached underneath the plate, which initially held them taught, they were basically useless.
Unless of course, your true intention was to shed the armor in the first place, to make yourself A.) Lighter, and B.) Ready to make a drastic change to your form all together. So, Vincent interposed a risky move, hoping that it did not result in his own decapitation. As Vincent had swung down and cleaved the shaft, right around the time when the halberd's head flew upwards to take his arm straight off, he allowed his shoulder to dip, following through with the motion of the slash, and slightly turned his hips to the right. So what he had, was this.
As the halberd rose, Vincent's shoulder, and the only large piece of armor he had left, his shoulder plates, which covered only the top part of his biceps, and his shoulders and part of his back, lowered. Not only did they lower, Vincent also was forced to turn his hips quickly, watching closely as the s**t went down. The shoulder plate would be a little higher than the blade when it hit, so, when the blade hit, it pushed into the shoulder plate, and with the force that it carried, ripped the strap clean off of Vince's muscular shoulders and back. Then, it simply proceeded to rip the armor up and off of his back, shooting over his head moving from right to left.
Of course.. the impact from the blow, and the fact that the armor smacked into Vince's head on the way off, made him stagger to the left, though, he kept his eyes warily on the swordsman. Also, when the straps were forcibly ripped from Vince's back and shoulders, the thin metal that he had wrapped around the straps ripped slightly into his flesh, creating a few lines of blood here and there. It didn't matter, or rather, it wouldn't matter soon.
He kept his eye on Snow as he lowered his sword to his side, pointing it diagonally at the ground again, and that was when he was sure that Snow would feel a magical pressure growing in the area. Around Vince's feet, small pebbles and specks of dirt began to rise, floating lazily around his still armored knees. However, nothing happened with that magic yet, Vincent needed a little bit more to do what he ultimately had planned, and he hoped, just hoped, that he could get another free moment or two to finish it off.
Charge=1
[Hope that was acceptable.]
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Posted: Thu Apr 09, 2009 8:47 am
It missed?!
The swordsman couldn't surpress his look of disbelief when his attack - at the expense of having his having his halberd cleaved in half - did practically nothing to completely sever Vince's limb off. Either his opposition had some insane luck or coincidence on his side, or the attack needed more refinement to make it more accurate for the blow to actually land.
Dammit!
"Tch." He cursed under his breath, having to make use of whatever timing he has left to exploit this opportunity to initiate his second design.
Clouds of dense vapor swirled in the wake of where his projectile - the head of the halberd - passed, still permeated with his own magic and floating about idle without the swordsman's current command. Mist-like forms, if one would have to say, gave an almost cool, if not wet breeze near Vince's right side as it poses no particular harm to the opponent...
Until the swordsman tried out his next idea, by throwing a small drop of water at the dormant mist using a flick of his left wrist - set with new commands, and establishing a connection to the swordsman's influence. As soon as the connection was established - which was less than a second or two, it didn't take any particular effort to control it immediately since the swordsman's personal magic is still running through it, making all the actions swifter and faster than him having to inject the water beforehand with his magic - and doing all of said actions again with wasted time.
This gave the swordsman an unprecendent edge at creating attacks at shorter intervals when he re-uses his fuel/magic, which in this case...
The swordsman plans to take on another offensive before taking the high road in defense.
It should be easy for Vince to detect something unusual on his right side when the temperature there dropped - just briefly - into extreme cold, before the warm air surrounding it rushed in an attempt to stabilize the surroundings.
Should Vince turn to his own respective right to see what's going on, he would see only one thing -
A small, scythe-like object, semi-translucent and razorsharp - made of ice - flying in a boomerang pattern to slice past the unarmored section of Vince's back and his exposed right shoulder without warning. The new set of command which the swordsman gave, should seem apparent now.
Contract all magic into one place. This would explain the sudden cool breeze when the moisture rushed back into one spot.
Focus and solidify right on the spot. This would explain the sudden freezing sensation that would enhance the density of the object, making it harder to break than usual.
How it attack would be a separate matter if Vince was preoccupied on the incoming projectile, swerving in to do a hit-and-run attack repeatedly towards the designated target - the unarmored back/right shoulder. But strangely, as the swordsman took some steps back to increase the distance between the two, his left fingers seem to be doing some actions that a conductor or a puppeteer would do.
Obviously there will be more to the attack than just a simple hit-and-run strike from the razorsharp scythe, but that - like his first attack, depends on contact with Vince's body or gears.
Meanwhile, ice started to spread from where the swordsman's boots were in a radius, acting somewhat independently from the swordsman's focus and leeching off more moisture in the air to fuel for...
The high road in defense.
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Posted: Thu Apr 09, 2009 10:19 am
Of course.. Vincent felt the freezing, felt the air get colder. After-all, he was really cold-blooded, and so, he felt it; though, it did not bother him as it should have. Most people would have felt unnerved, somewhat disturbed as they felt the sudden coolness in the air around them. What Vince felt, however, was a manifestation of what he knew to be magic, and so, he responded carefully, his eyes looking to the cloud of vapors that were forming, and then, he realized what was coming. He seen it form, and even as he watched it form, he calculated a way in his mind to stop it.
Of course, the only thing he could do was turn. He turned towards the projectile, his left shoulder now facing Snow, his right shoulder now facing away from snow, and that left his chest to face the projectile. However, Vincent watched the path, and before the projectile would fly to hit his chest and his arm now, since he'd changed his position, Vincent stabbed the front of his massive sword into the ground, hoping that the projectile would smash into that and throw it off course. Even though Vince was sure that it would likely do something to the blade, seeing as how he had a small sense of idea that Snow was doing something else to alter the attack.
That was when, of course, Snow would feel the change. The magic that had been flowing around Vince suddenly flared, the pebbles and dirt that had been floating suddenly flew up over Vince's head, and this time, pulled large chunks of rock and dirt from the ground around Vince's feet. This of course, was not an attack, but it was the changing of the tide of battle. With Vince's sword locked in the ground in the area where he thought the projectile would go, he was free to do what he needed, and that started with an animalistic roar from the man known as Vince.
From Vince's back, a tearing sound could be heard, just for a split second though as two large limbs flew outwards from Vince's back. However, no one would have time to marvel at that, because at the same time, multiple things were happening. From Vince's lower back, a massive tail was pulling itself outwards, forming, draping itself along the ground. Vince's muscles tightened and expanded outwards, making the creature much larger than he actually was in human form, however, this was not it. From Vince's skin, patches of green scales covered his arms, his legs, his chest, his neck, his face, and his back.
This was only the beginning, because what was coming was the most glorious part. Vince's face expanded outwards into a snout of sort, even as his eyes narrowed into serpentine slits. Large teeth hung from the top of the extended jaw, sharp rows of teeth lining the bottom. Vince's hands and feet were changing at the same time, also. From Vince's steel boots, sharp, talon-looking claws ripped through the metal, hanging out over the edges of the boots. Vince's gauntlets were a bit.. better, though. Vince's clawed gauntlets had claws which started on the knuckles, hanging over the hand, so when massive claws burst forward from the spot where the fingers were, it only meant that Vincent did indeed have two sets of massive claws on either side.
There Vincent was, bracing the sword, changed into one of his truer forms, though not the truest. Snow's teammate, Arian, had seen his original form, but he had not. So, coming into this fight, it was likely that Snow had no idea that Vince was.. different. Not to mention.. in this form, Vincent would be able to use some of his more potent magic, shown simply by the glowing magical tattoo that was covering Vince's right shoulder, and moving a little bit down his arm. It was pulsing slightly, warning Vince that there was a magical manifestation in the area; of course.. Vincent knew this.
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Posted: Thu Apr 09, 2009 7:22 pm
Luckily for Vincent, all of the moves the swordsman was pulling off at a moment's whim were experimental attacks - unpolished and unrefined as he was trying out tactic variations for use. Unlike many, the swordsman has flaws which makes him vulnerable in certain situations - lack of armor being one of the causes. And in order to combat those that were either better equipped or have better stats than what the swordsman can muster...it is necessary to devise some tricks and/or new styles to cope with those that are simply stronger or more powerful than him in order to hold his ground.
Even better, to be able to go on the offensive against more powerful foes.
For this event, the swordsman did modify the attack to vary, having a set of ideas that would be utilize should Vince respond accordingly. But unable to get the projectile into close body contact with the foe - the swordsman quickly had to improvise on the spot to salvage what he can from the attack.
Swinging the staff upwards, the swordsman released his hold on the staff with his left hand, pointing it towards where the projectile now rested and then pointing it towards Vince's face in one motion, before clenching his hand in an odd gesture.
And as if responding to some new command, the projectile that got itself entangled with Vince's sword expanded twice-fold in size, launching a series of razorsharp tentacles - two in all, followed by smaller versions of it, connected to the icy projectile - that went primarily for two places.
Vince's right chest...and the right side of his neck. The smaller ones went for Vince's right hand and arm instead in an attempt to injure the sword-arm if the main tentacles didn't work. While using the projectile that was latched onto Vince's sword as its main source of fuel, the tentacles flickered out with its sharp edge to pierce itself into the changing form of his opposition, stabbing at the surface first before scraping around the target to bore into any vulnerable spots and/or links between the armor.
Or... would be armor, considering that Vince just performed an unexpected change, causing the swordsman to blink in surprise.
"What the hell?"
Even though this wasn't the first time he'd fought against someone who could transform, the feeling of being caught off guard like that never does fade away, no matter how long it has been, how many times he might have seen it, or was fighting against someone who could morph into something else...
But he can't be distracted by that right now!
The tentacles would hit the surface of the scales before scraping around, trying to get underneath the scales to inject itself in areas that are more...fleshy, for injuries. If the tentacles manages to pierce into the skin, it would burrow itself as deep as possible to look for any nearby blood vessels to puncture...
And, if luck is on his side, to get the ice to pierce into the bloodstream, and inject itself into the blood to get circulated around the body. It would be very unlikely that Vince would let that happen, but should that be the case - then it'll give the swordsman an easier time to damage Vince more severely when the magic-injected water freezes inside Vince's bloodflow.
It would be self explanatory to describe the results if that happens. Internal damage and bleeding - all that lovely stuff...on a good scenario.
In this case, the swordsman is fine if all it does is get Vince to bleed more than usual.
As all of that would be happening, more ice would spread around Snow's surrounding area, making the ground slippery and chock full of his own personal magic - dormant, and waiting for a command from Snow himself.
The staff would be held pointed towards Vince's main body with his right hand, dissuading a possible rush...while the surrounding ice acted as his secondary source of fuel should Snow find himself in need of it immediately.
The Halberd axe that missed the target would fall to the ground a few seconds after the pose, lifeless and somewhere out of the swordsman's reach.
The swordsman might be able to use the severed axe somehow...if he has the time for it, judging from Vincent's reaction.
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Posted: Thu Apr 16, 2009 9:47 pm
One of Hanged Man's Park's illustrious benches mid-island was surrounded by a variety of trees. One stacked alongside the next, various insects, mammals, and birds calling those erect forces of nature "home." With every few seconds, a singular gust of wind gave the silence about those great oaks a slight wisp along the leaves, blowing a few of the looser ones into obscurity.
The sun gleamed downwards harshly. Currently, the Dark Tournament's first round was well underway - with several fighters already defeated, others advancing. And yet, here in this inconspicuous location, a new skirmish was just beginning.
"It's me. Schwartz Bruder." A bizarre man wearing a World War II-era German Army military commander jacket with bronze shoulder junctions whipped off his camouflage, touching down nimbly to the ground after jumping off one of the nearby trees. A few startled birds flew away for dear life, as the masked man - fittingly wearing the national colors of Germany, glared harshly about him.
" I've come to stop you." Seeming to be addressing no one in particular, Schwartz then added: " Because you're all hyper."  " HYAHHHHGGGGGG!!!"
Running forward at speeds easily trice the adult human male's norm, the ninja-like figure stopped abruptly past the aforementioned bench.. his white-handled shinto blade drawn, tip at the ground. Seconds later, the bench began to catch up with reality, cut diagonally with great precision; no longer intact but instead eradicated into two distinct portions.
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Posted: Thu Apr 16, 2009 11:57 pm
Pip had the misfortune of being in the middle of what was soon to become a s**t-storm. The bench area of the Park. He didn't know how he got here. People kept putting him on boats to get him away from them. Now he found himself wandering through a park in some dim light, be it morning or afternoon. Pip was dressed in his black leather jacket, zipped up to his chin, as well as a dirty pair of jeans. Beyond that there weren't too many visible weapons on him. A small cylinder on his right hip in a little sheath, maybe a hand and a half long. A few extra pouches on his belt. He didn't know anything about the Tournament going on within walking distance of him. He just knew that he was going to need to find a place to sleep in these trees sometime soon. He didn't know a thing about the Hotel not two miles from where he stood with his hands in his jacket pockets. Twigs crunched beneath his combat boots and he decided to sit down on the bench while he decided what to do next. The youth was not a very impressive person. He didn't stand out in a crowd. His eyes usually stuck in people's memory, but beyond that he was as forgettable as any other human being. He leaned back, letting his mind wander (not a good plan under normal circumstances) until he was interrupted by a masked nazi. At the appearance of the ninja Pip was curious. Very curious. The man seemed... strange. Pip would blink slowly. Twice. Hyper? "..."
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