Welcome to Gaia! ::

The ball continues to compress, then suddenly shards have been formed inside of this air orb. Ryu looks to the man then simply yawns softly while the dagger acts like a lightning rod to the energy. Thus it wasn't really controlled by Ryu at this point and time. Good job for the opponent. Ryu awaits for the next attack while he closes his eyes, his body seemingly loose to manuver. Ryu can still see his opponent, but this really doesn't matter while Ryu stands there.

There was a soft rap, before the door was actually opened; and before you knew it, in stepped the lean frame of the persian-esque man.

Yellowed eyes stared out even as he draped the plastic bags over his shoulders.

"Sorry if I made you wait. I figured we could both use something to eat."

Within one of several guest rooms in the gathering place for all these fighters, Vahn found himself back in Sierra's room.

There was a multitude of lights flowing in an ever constant flux; the holo shroud breaking up and distorting the image of the man, Vercellius. A feathered cape fluttered in a soft breeze and a alabaster whisps of mist coiled along his shape, twin orbs of blood red seathed the mist and hung just over the man's shoulder.

About the only constant thing about the man was the noise he made as he moved, tasseles, bells, chains, and other adornments clattered, clanked, and jingled.

He wore a mask, of bronze, cast in the shape of a leering sun. Violet eyes looked out from behind the eye holes and a low rumbling laugh swept through the man as he looked at the foe he was to fight.

"Well," he said as he pulled forth a blade in his right hand, "shall we begin?"

Formed as a question Vercellius didn't give him time enough to respond, except with steel in hand. In a flurry of movements he sprinted forth in a slashing move that would catch the man upon the brow.

Fortune smiled upon Vercellius that day, howeling with delight his left arm came foward from its crouched position at his side. The palm open there was something almost imperceptable of the attack as the resonator opened up its fully furry upon Snow.

And infra sonic bombardment of waves clashed into his body, to begin with he would feel sick as his delicate organs where struck. Something aking to hydrostatic shock would set off as the sound would cause waves within the water of his body. If he had sensitive ears they would bleed as the noise ruptured his ear drums.

Vercellius didn't even need to land the blow, only direct his open palm at the chest of the man.

Twisting his right arm so the bottom of his wrist was face up he took a quick step in closer and bent it. Driving his elbow away from the intended strike which would land upon his upper arm. With a jerk of his hand down ward he would lose himself from Snow's hold and roll two feet away before springing back to his feet.

Sudden disorientation, followed by unbearable torment, Snow then realized the fatality of his choice. Already unbalanced, he kneeled to one knee as he coughed out some blood, the eyes wide in realization.

Rigged!

Of course the enemy won't be that easy to attack in close range, but Snow didn't expect for the man to be using technology instead as the means for attacks.

He clutched the chest, taking a few steps back before he unsheathed his blade, pointing it towards Vercellius. If close range battle is something that Vercellius is fond of, then Snow has to fight with long range tactics. However, the enemy....
Maybe the enemy does have his own ways to attack with long range, but with a different set of weapon...perhaps.

Nonetheless, Snow kept his right blade pointed forward, an absurd defensive measure, but it is something that Vercellius probably won't expect if he tries the tactic again. His vision was starting to clear, but he can't get the blasted noise out of his ears....that high, shrill tone...

"Patera be damned, what is this?" a young, black haired chap mumbled to himself in the stands, having just arrived after a three day hike. His pushed back his short bangs with his left arm; his only arm, in fact.

He didn't much care for the barbaric art of fighting that most other men absolutely loved here in Gaia. The sight before him, he knew, could get very gruesome. Diplomacy was much harder than beating the living crap out of one-another with your swords and fists, so why didn't they make a debate team or something?

He sighed and sat down, figuring he might as well sit and watch the competition his sister would have to face later. The sonic waves that Vercellius unleashed were obvious to him, even though he wasn't in direct assault of the attack. His sensitive ears were annoyed, a constant rumbling within them from this distance, but he was otherwise comfortable.

He didn't feel too comfortable here, so he checked his soft leather travel boots, making sure the silver scabbards for his stilletto gouche knives for secured on the sides. His hip beared a finely crafted, brown leather, sheathe holding his silver-bladed punching knife, with a mahogany handle and steel-pointed pommel. Along with his knives, he checked the large black satchel that sat next to him. Vials, flasks, baggies, tins, beads...everything an alchemist would need.

Good, everything was in check. He turned back towards the battle, watching it progress without hesitation. Firesnuff, treshil ash, baif leaves...that would work for a nice beverage right about now. May numb my wrist for a bit... he thought to himself, inspecting his pale wrist. Arthritis was a pain in the a**. He sighed again and watched the barbarians have at it.