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Azmaru's left hand's middle finger and thumb were placed together. Quickly he snapped. As he did he channeled energy to is fingers, causing a spark of electricity to form. The small spark jolted around his hand, jumping across his knucles. He then began to walk towards his opponant, his right hand now also at his side. His middle finger and index finger on his right hand spun around, slowly.

Azmaru's head slumped at the idle threat. His left hand, which was stealing electricity from the air, directing it into a thing stream around his hand shot upwards, aiming at the man. Azmaru grinned from under his hood. As he used his left hand to 'distract' the enemy his right hand formed a fist, due to the motion of the air he had been creating this forced the air to wrap around his hand, creating a thinner weaker strand. He sprinted forward, his left hand going down to meet with his right. As they collided, screeching could be heard. The airstream grew larger, the lightning sparked faster.
As he ran forward the air continued to increase in size and speed, the electricity bolted around, the small blue bolts sparked out around the stream.
"Do not threaten me." He said, as he came closer to the man. He stopped, not caring about the man's threats. The air and electricity continued to make the screeching sound, as they spun around his hand.

Who the hell is in this tournament? Those who don't have death breathing down their necks, and obviously those who weren't mortal. Unlike Snow, who is limited to a certain period of life.
And unlike those who will push the opponent to the edge mercilessly, Snow waited for Dave to finish transformation, the orbs that lay dormant previously before circling the field like droplets of water. Transparent with the color of darkness hinting Snow's speciality, the orbs gathered into a dome like formation around Dave, weaving in and out like ripples in a pond within a reasonable distance for wait - about 2 meters or so..

If Dave is going to fight physically, then Snow shall retaliate with physical force. Ten seconds is all that Snow needed to close off most of the exits, leaving only but a few spaces behind the seemingly immortal opponent that is Dave.

"Death is but a sad melody for those that have heard it."

His cloth shifted lightly in color, as if there was something on it. Something that covered it....
And as the things were ready for showdown against the creature named Dave, Snow raised his blade so it pointed straight at Dave's neck, ready when he is...

The shattered blade nearby was twitching away from anyone's perspective, but he'll leave that mystery to be solved later during the battle.

There was a gust of wind at the south entrance to the arena. Some of sand got stirred up and scattered around before the six-foot figure of a man stepped over the threshold and into the place designed for battle

Tall brown travelling shoes came to a rest just inside the entrance. Red pants came from them to a black leather belt that had a gold-coloured buckle. His upper torso was protected by a sheet of chainmail which also came down his arms to just before his elbows. Over it was not only a black, sleeveless shirt of normal cloth but on top of that, over his chest and back, where two pieces of white armour plating that fit to his form with moderate thickness. They almost seemed to shine in the light. The man's lower arms were equipped with protective gauntlets of the same material as his armour. A longsword in a white, silver patterned sheath dangled from his left side, tied to his belt.

The man's face was an oddity of sorts. Slightly messy but short blond hair covered the top of it normally, but below that was mostly unseen. A red scarf with two long tails that trailed to half way past the back of his knees, once they had settled from their owner's lack of movement, was wrapped around his face and tied there scurely. The scarlet cloth came up over his nose at the center of his face, leaving very little flesh exposed; Just enough for two amber-colored eyes that sparkled with a look of calmness to be made out. A black scar could be seen running up a little from under his scarf, from the right side of his nose to stopping just above it.

Slowly his head turned, taking in the sights, before he started making his way into the new location.

'I wonder why it led me here?' he wondered quietly in his mind, referencing the earlier gust of wind which had died down while his amber orbs had soaked in the scenery around him.

Eldin sighed and then smiled beneath his covering. If the wind had guided him to the arena then that meant he was supposed to be here. He wondered what he would learn and who he would meet; He couldn't deny that curiosity. Eldin laughed a little and then sat down about half way towards the center of the arena. If the fight was too much he'd just forfeit. He was sure his uncle's spirit hadn't led him here to die, after all.

On the thin layer of sand Eldin assumed a cross-legged meditation style pose with his arms resting on his shins and his hands dangling almost lifelessly over the edges of his legs then closed his friendly eyes. He concentrated on his mind, his most important asset in battle. He had to make sure his focus and mental stamina were at their best. He also focused on the eight spirits within him. The beings permanently bonded to his Channeler soul as a part of himself. Though he looked like and was nearly biologically identicle to an ordinary human being, Eldin Desura was a member of the rare Channeler race. A people born with a biological sixth sense for supernatural forces. Spirits, magic, mysticism, dimensional disturbances...a feeling unique to Eldin's people detected forces like these and others like them.

Besides their minds, their souls were the only difference between them and humans. Channeler souls could bond with spiritual beings that consented to it and become one with them, sharing their power and making it a Channeler's own so long as he could maintain the mental willpower to control it. A human mind wouldn't be able to handle most of the stress the average Channeler's went through.

Eldin continued to meditate and keep himself ready. If his opponent's life force drew near he would sense it coming. Assuming his opponent had a life force, of course. That wasn't always a guarantee in this world he lived in.

"Why the ******** is this rusty gate closed?" The feeling of anger escaped Cziri's lips in a simple whisper that trailed across the hallway. He looked at a simple keyhole in a little metal box holding to the array of rusty metal bars extending to the floor. His right eye, the one that examined information in the most simple packets, yet processed it at speeds that which rival that of a computer, or even supercomputer. He saw a good deal of visible light present within the shadows of the lock, and so focused it without a touch to fit the shape of a key that would match that of the keyhole. The concentrated photons felt as obilterating the lock in whole, but they were held with such constraint, something unusual for Cziri of Chaotic Light. He pushed the creation gently, and twisted it, opening the gate as the bars sunk back into the sand.

He walked on gentle soles across the sand, rather relaxed and looking towards the golden treasure in the sky, the sun. He hadn't seen his star in a while, for infact the system had been consumed a few ages ago by Cziri himself. It's just that the very nature of Cziri can cause things to reappear. Cziri's current form is a representation of the prisoner Thorniyuankezeri. The representation of that powerful figure in a dreaming world. But, that is a rather different story, for now at least. Cziri stood about seven feet tall.

Cziri wore his standard steel sandal, fitting to his foot quite well with added heel support. The darkness of the steel contrasted with the bland white cloth the wrapped around Cziri's toes, and seemingly reached slightly higher than his ankles. The feetwraps were then gently fit and fused with a portion of "daemonic skin" pants. More like magic adapting skin really, but the point is shown. The pants were a simple black and wrinkled from the nature of the skin itself. In addition to his "daemonic skin" pants, a orange armored sash fell down, like the ones some samurai would wear, and protected a good deal of his lower body. The orange sash simply had the seal of a star, or atleast something resembling a star.

Rising upwards, you could see the draping sage green longcoat, catching the wind in the air, and strangely it would look as if the longcoat was tasting the very air. It was filled with a variety of pockets, and reinforced with shifting steel plates particularly around the armpit and lower back for support, if Cziri were to need it. He wore a simple white chainmail shirt, or something that resembled it. It was more like some sort of armour that wielded metal threads and formed them into nets for support. A liquid pocket was formed within the armor to absorb impact, and this chainmail shirt was rather thick despite how thin it looked from first glance. A simple aqua blue rectangular cloth served for Cziri's scarf, tied gently around his neck before draping towards his left arm. Cziri's weapons could very lightly be seen when his long coat flapped, he currently possessed a mourtary sword and an altered claymore. Towards the arms, the longcoat's sleeves were ripped, revealing rather simple guantlets. A few strange plates of shifting admant were visible, and oddly if one looked at them, they could be mirrors. The shards of admant were attached to a blacken glove split at the knuckles and cut to reveal Cziri's palm. His other arm was fit with the same fashion.

Cziri's face was rather odd, he had gentle lips that were closed shut and of no color. They matched with Cziri's bronzed skin that oddly had a rather blue or more like a platinum luster. Traces of hair fell into Cziri's face, but a majority of it was pushed to the side. His hair was long, but form fitting to his face, curving around every angle and blanketing it. It was mainly white, but traces of mixed colors could be seen, most visibly black, silver, green and orange. His left eye was strange, where some would see the whites of eyes, you would only see black. Where one would see the iris, all there was, well was a storm of everchanging colors and patterns. His right eye had a strange greenish glow coming from the pupil while while the iris was a storm of golden and the cornea a sea of blue. A little headband refitted with steel draped towards his left eye. (Not a god damn ninja headband.) From a distance, one could see a strange metallic luster coming from all parts of his armor for an odd reason.

((Continued from PM))

Thaddeus would wait...wait...wait...

Once just a few feet away, the spear would be slammed into the ground. This would cause an electrical field to form in a 5 foot radius around Thaddeus. Reason? Shock the enemy?

It'd dissapear after 10 seconds.

"Heh..." the bolt spear would lose its color, and essentially dissapear. Another would appear in its place. He'd wait for the right moment...

Upon first feeling the unusual amount of pressure on his head and shoulders, Thaddeus had the urge to use his "gift" to merely dispel the attack...but he wouldn't. Instead, he'd run about, in hope that the attack was only in one location. The pressure would start to make him succumb...slowly...slowly...

However, he'd eventually get out of the circle, although it would exhaust him from all of the weight. He would need a break to catch his breath. It would seem that he wouldn't be watching anything. The owl too would be somewhat exhausted...

EDIT: Oxymoron in words <<;;