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Rivven smiled, but bit his lip slightly, and the edges of his eyes twitched slightly. "Most likely, Mr.Chauffeur. I truthfully have no idea how old I am. Certainly more than I look though. Alright then, I'll start it off. Hope you enjoy this as much as those big 'displays of power' I've been flashing about." Rivven took a single step forward as if to charge, and then spun on the ball of his foot, and continued to spin as he quickly narrowed the distance between them, one arm mostly straight outward, spinning with his body as the first mode of the attack, hand still flat with the side of the palm the striking point. The second would be the hand pressed flat against his torso ready for counter or second attack, and either leg ready as the third; not for a moment did he let his balance waver or lose a second way to mantain it. Naturally, controlling water, he'd learned much from it, especially its equilibrium.

*Trimley walked into the stadium for his second time and went to where the bulletin for the tournament was and posted a piece of paper beneath it:

Any person who wishes to have someone to practice with, contact me. I will be sitting in the front row, section 3, seat 11. If I'm not there, write your name on here (PM me) and I will find you.

*After pinning it up, he left to explore the place a little more*

The spinning is more a matter of making it difficult for his opponent to pick a target than anything else, but usaully he would be doing it with a length of the chain spinning around his waist as well as the other attacks, in order to make it difficult to even get close enough to place a blow. However, his opponent didn't fight traditionally either. As the hands landed on Rivven's head, instead of breaking yet another ever useful lesson of the water, he allowed the force to bend him over to where his head was at waist level, at which point he grabbed both wrists as the were slipping from his head. Bend or break. He continued his spin at the lower altitude, pulling Chauffeur's wrists to his chest as he spun with head down, letting his legs continue faster than his body for the first 180 degrees after his duck, then snapping his torso around to match them and releasing his opponent into a throw horizontally away, strengthened by a slight combination of both their speeds. After the throw he spun another 180 and stopped, facing the direction he'd thrown Chauffeur again, and walked quickly toward him, both arms bent at the elbow by his sides, for a quick block or counter to any part of his body.

With the unexpected landing on his arms, Rivven realized too late his legs had been grabbed, and fell onto his back with the man atop him, feet driving hard into his stomach. Rivven exhaled with the hit instead of letting it force the wind out of him, and it helped him recover all the faster. So he likes to jump... grappling with this guy won't do me any good, I need mobility, once I have some room to move we'll see where it goes. With the backward spin of his falling from his feet to his back just beginning to fade, he pushed it back again, flipping himself with his legs tucking around his opponent, freeing his arms as he rolled around, and with his arms between his opponents legs now, and the arms holding onto his legs, that left one vital spot open. One very vital spot. Rivven slammed an elbow home, following immediatly with a fist to the stomach, which he rarely used because they were wasteful and their blows did more pushing and moving of the opponent than actual damage, but in this case used that wasteful force along with the springlike coild the rest of his body had wrapped into, to knock his opponent off of him and away. Climbing quickly to his feet and preparing a Serpentios Style offensive, he took a moment to grit his teeth against the now wide open wound on his stomach his opponent had so greatly just agravated with that kick. If he had still planned to use the summon, he'd of had plenty of blood, and Chauffeur would be in for something nasty indeed. With each hand tucked up so that the fingers came to a single point, like a spearhead under his powerful but accurate employment, he turned sideways and drew the forward arm back, with the upper arm level from the ground and the forearm pressed against it, the hand resting just beyond his cheek, and the other tucked similairly below the shoulder instead of below, he sprinted at his opponent in zig-zagging, darting strides.

((I'm sorry, I'm not making my character overly powerful, am I? I mean, he is supposed to be fairly powerful and incredibly skilled, as he was a weapon, assassin and prize fighter, for a magic based clan using constructs to conquer and expand themselves, but if you feel I'm god-moding, just let me know...

Charles' legs were basically spread with Rivven's arms between them, leaving one place a bit more open than his stomach. I'm just going to accept my once again unclear post's affect, and leave it at that.))

Rivven darted up until he was perhaps two arms length from stricking distance, blood falling from his wound and splashing in small puddles onto the ground, then at last close enough to start, slid the last of the distance forward, his torso low to the ground and one leg straight out before him with the other behind. He stopped at the last moment, switching which leg was in the front and sliding forward diagonally toward the other side the rest of the way into striking distance, and pulled full upright and his torso back slightly as he did so. One hand snapped forward a millesecond before the other, the higher aiming for the collar bone and the lower for the ribs. The blows would continue, even if turned aside or blocked, each arm pulling back to one of eight positions no matter how it was stopped or smacked aside, and striking from there either at the first target or its second, the shoulder for the upper and the center of the stomach for the lower, until Rivven himself was stopped from his attack.
The Serpentios Style was a fatally offensive technique, that was at once greatly complex and simple. It had each hand shaped like the head of a snake, and pulled back to any one of eight positions spread from the shoulder in equal distance for the ability to return to one almost no matter what. The arm needed not be terribly strong to use this small shape in order to snap stright forward at a target with great accuracy and it's force centered enough to easily break bones or cause other unjury when used by any competent, even if weak, man. It was very fast, and repeated these strikes, meant to return immediatly back from a strike, whether missed, blocked, or connected, to the shoulder immediatly, where it would snap out identically and continue onward until the attacker stopped or was stopped. Even when blocked the arm taking the hit for the body was as often as not broken. Any strike made would be painful, fatal if to a mortal spot. But despite it's incredible and recklessly powerful offense, it had one flaw a close eye could pick up with a small time veiwing it in action. It was a weakness Rivven had found and balanced, but never completely removed. One using the style usually killed the one they used it one, if such was the untent, but often with multiple opponents, they also fell. The style left little way for the target to escape, but anyone coming in from ouside it's range or about 180 degrees could catch the attacker's back without the hands ready to defend it. From there they would have to either take the abuse, or abandon the stance.

((I thought it was something that would be a bit rude to simply right out and say... but, whatever.))

Rivven winced, clamping his thighs together to stop another attack, and to keep his opponent from going between his legs to go behind him. Switching both arms quickly to a position beside the shoulder and slightly upwards from it, he turned his torso downward and continued the strikes as if nothing had happened, aiming for his opponents widely exposed head and the backs of his ribs, going lighter if only a bit slower on the attack toward the head. He didn't want to kill anyone, though he might very well move out of the way of this as well. For once Rivven wasn't prepared for immediate response, but he was thinking as quickly as ever despite his bodies momentary near freezing up, and was finding several possible follow ups once his legs started moving like normal again. In a moment the pain wouldn't be any worse than the burning in his side, which he'd long since pushed to the corner of his mind.

((You forgot about the walls of water.))

Cheater. Not that it matters, attacking me with my own ice, but that means the scythe will me close behind, so... As the ice flew into the walls of water, he had them hold the ice firmly to the center, where they were melting quickly, and brought the water from the walls shooting in to surround him, and down him to cover the opponent he had physichal contact with, holding him inside the water, covering him from head to foot. Rivven was betting he didn't have the ability to somehow breathe water as he did, but he wouldn't want to wait for that to do the job either.

As the water quickly piled into a second giant sphere around the both of them, his doppelgangers each shot out an arm, snapping as like the tendrils of water did, which would make sense since they were made of water, and he could thus manipulate them, hands clasping onto the scythes handle and restraining it for as long as they could, which would undoubtably be a while if they didn't die.

Back where Rivven himself was, he knew his opponent wouldn't be able to get out of his controlled sphere by any traditional means unless he allowed it, the water would hold him where Rivven wanted him, and if he managed to fight away from that without anything to push off against, as the water was lifting them both off the ground as it piled around them, the membrane would stretch out rather far with him to hold Chauffeur inside. While inside, Rivven held the complete advantage, utter control of his own movement, and a strong influence on the other man's. With the man bracing himself firmly still, Rivven had no trouble spinning about, floating abit off the ground in the water, so Charles' back faced the scythe which would no doubt be coming soon, and grabbed the man's hair to pull his head up and stretch his torso out straight, proper for Rivven's attack. He slammed his palm once into the man's soloplex, and immediatly a second time, holding the water like concrete around him so it wouldn't absorb any of the vibrations as it normally might have.

The centered palm technique was based on utter exactness and balance of both force and the area struck. It sent vibrations through the torso equally of the one struck, wearing quickly and violently at internal organs and bones in the torso and it's immediate vacinity. It's uniqueness was that, as an attack that hurt it's opponent internally, the damage done couldn't really be shrugged off, and it would affect nearly any the same way, bringing their overall performance down rather than hoping to stop one part all at once like a powerful strike to break bones normally would. A human without any magic strengthening to his endurance, specifically internally, in perfect physichal condition, would on the first strike cause intense nausea for several minutes and cause soreness in the abdominal and chest muscles and bones. The second would cause many blood vessels to burst, causing some internal bleeding, bruising over most of the torso, possible minor bone fractures, and trauma in the organs. The third would cause bones to shatter, organs collapse and burst, the heart stop, lungs pop, and other unpleasent things. The only real conditions were that the blows had to be delivered to the soloplex or center of the spine, and all within a half hour of each other, or the force would have dissapated too much to continue off of, though the injury would remain until the injured one recovered.

Of course, he didn't plan on making the killing blow, but he did intend to do some more damage before his opponent had time to get away from him. He removed his hand from his opponents hair, striking with an almost blade like edge of his palm agianst the ankles of the legs holding on to him, repeatedly on each side, as he gathered the blood spilling from his wound again for the summon, and now that he'd likely put an end to the grip his opponents legs had on him, he struck at pressure points with two fingers, using each hand at once, aiming for those at the base of his limbs in order to not just freeze him up a second, but potentially slow them down for a longer period. He continued to strike at pressure points and major blood vessels, and hold Chauffeur between him and the scythe, waiting to be given the next thing to respond to. He'd better act fast before his whole body was occupied spasming and turning numb.