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"Quit your useless babble & childish insults, and either strike me or go home." Schwartz was uninterested in the meager opposition offered thus far. The unmotivated, the inexperienced, the foolish; it all combined to a disheartening sight that would move Bruder to tears of boredom were he not fairly sure one of them would be attempting a meager attack at any time. Even as the odd man with spheres on his belt was pelted by the cape tremendously, Schwartz was unimpressed.



"You, the boy with the campy backpack. Your skills anywhere near as terrible as your middle-school reject mouth? Or was that meager clamp you laid just for show?" 25 yards.

Sssccrrrr.....

The sound of bark being scraped off resonated from the trees above the small gathering, revealing the presence of yet another contender. This newcomer was descended the tree in style, his clawed gauntlet digging into the bark to slow his descent as the crook in his left hand hooked on a nearby hanging branch. Feet wrapped in wooden sandals pressed against the tree for balanced, his legs crouched beneath him just in case he needed to exit his roost in a hurry.

For a moment he just waited there, the only sound was that of his gold tipped braids hung against one of another like dull chimes. He waited and watched, scanning the area for 'the source'. The source of whatever foul breeze had blasted from this area not too long ago.

For that deft wind that had toyed with his linen wrap, nearly unraveling it.Were it not for his cat like reflexes, his 'family jewels' would have been put on display...a thought that even now made him shudder. Such a thing appalled him in others and he would not, could not tolerate something like that happening to him. The fact that someone had almost succeed in that affair aggravated him to no end, so he had firmly tightened and re-tightened his wrap before raced off in direction from whence the wind came.

He had expected a large fan of some sort, not a bunch of people gathered for what was turning out to be a brawl. Not that he minded too much, he had accumulated quick a temper that needed to be cooled off, nothing that a little fighting couldn't settle. The only question was, who was to be the target of his fury?

Green discarded the jacket from his head as he glanced around at all of the s**t going on. There were people falling from trees, there were bear traps falling from the ground, and there were people spinning as if they were merry-go-rounds. All the while this went on Green was removing the jacket from his head, watching closely as he calculated a plan. A plan so awesome, so brilliant, that no one would ever see it coming. As the man with the bear traps taunted the man with the ability to spin like a cyclone, Green launched a Pokeball from his belt, aiming to hit the man upside the head.

This would be followed through by Green sprinting full out at the man who had the ability to launch bear traps at people, a high-pitched screech being made by the simple looking man in the base-ball cap. He was aiming to plow right into Kenji and take him to the ground, where he would then proceed to do whatever he could.

The screeching continued. AIEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!

Pop!

The pokeball hit off of his skull as soon as he had finished his sentence to the ninja, but he was able to catch the strange mechanism with his left hand before it fell to the ground. He then saw the kid with the baseball cap charging toward his direction like he was trying out for the high school football team. He was even screaming. Kenji would throw a right punch at the boy's face as he made his mad dash to victory just as he came into the right amount of distance for his arm length so that the trainer would run right into his fist.

Two things would become apparent very quickly.

The first was a skinny red demon with four horns and a curly mustache. And the second was a shovel with a ">:{" face drawn on it. Its reason for being there entirely meant to exploit a meme drifting around the island far too much.

"HAW HAW. BET YAH LIKED THAT, HUH?!"

The angry demon began to stride towards his fallen target with lots of frustration in his eyes. He was going to vent it all over this guys head skull until he felt better. "My names Borkmork, and for the next five minutes you're going to be my b***h!" Five minutes was when Borkmorks break let up and he would be assigned to cleaning up the messes left by Morkbork in the bathroom.

Once he got close enough, Borkmork would stab the shovel forwards like a dull spear. It was enough to leave a nasty bruise and knock the guy over, but he wasn't allowed to kill...

Just what was going on, the man couldn't say as It would baffle anyone to see such a spontaneous spurt of violence come over a crowd in a park of all places. After all, parks were known for being subtle, quiet places to kick back and relax. Being a tourney going on and all this is probably where all the rejects who couldn't get tickets wound up.

Poor bastards.

So adorned in his rather casual clothes which consisted of a few bandages around the arms and torso along with a yellow canvas jacket and a set of black pants, the man would take a nice little stroll into this mayhem head on. Hell, why not? He was part of this crowd of rejects, didn't even get a chance to see if his pupil got any time in with the ring. Perhaps pounding a few faces in and simply enjoying himself was the way to go.

He'd just take a look around with those hazel eyes of his and see if anyone really looked like a good match.

A bear trap, or rather the more common derivative most associate with "bear trap-" the foothold trap, had several key components. Two jaws, a spring of some sort, and a trigger in the middle. By pressing the trigger, the two jaws then clamp - preventing the hunted from escaping, given the trap is usually grounded in some way.

So immediately, the geomancer had to understand his first critical flaw. By moving a trap underground, he was relocating said trap - meaning for a brief period of time, the jaws would emerge from the ground prior to the trigger. This was all presuming the trap was in fact a bear trap, and not some sort of mystical trap controlled by the mind in its mechanism fire.

Ergo, as the initial blades reaped the earth open, Scwhartz was already in action. Hopping upward off the one planted foot some good six inches, Bruder bunny hopped behind the rear jaw- before letting the long raised, right foot drop-kick the trap back towards its sender, uprooted patches of dirt following. Much akin to a high-velocity metal football, albeit with less of the aerodynamic nature. The impact may or may not have triggered the firing mechanism, but that truly didn't matter; for now, Bruder knew his opponent's secret. Or the first of.

Leaning forward, then lurching back in a sudden backflip - Bruder landed upon the oak tree just behind the previously destroyed tree branch, fuming.



"You presume too much! You can't catch your -good- opponents off guard just because they're talking; your vocal cords and your legs are not intertwined, boy! Try again!"