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 Posted: Tue Jun 24, 2008 2:05 pm
Fighting Ring
Description: As the crowd cheers from the stands in a closed stadium where lights shine from above to light up the interior in a flash show, within a fighting area of only thirty feet in diameter stands a six-sided fighting ring, having a diameter of only twenty feet where the semi finals will take place. The ropes are indestructible, but bendable enough to rebound a person back in the other direction when pushed against. The ring stands three feet off the ground, with the ropes adding another three feet. The apron, the floor of the ring (also indestructible), is bouncy to absorb shock and decrease injury to those who are slammed against it, but it doesn't get rid of all the force due to its stability. Ten Count Boundary: When knocked outside the ring, that is when the ten count starts. The ten count is reset if the other fighter gets outside the ring, too. The ten count stops if the other fighter is in the ring using indirect means to keep the other fighter down, such as by vines or something of that nature. If the fighter is outside the ring, at least five feet from it using methods like this, then the ten count keeps going.
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Posted: Tue Jun 24, 2008 3:07 pm
Nimbly stepping along the narrow catwalks leading to the ring, Barsait gave a quick self-check on his body.. impressive was the work the GTB infirmary did, he had to admit; no noticeable pains or sluggishness in the limbs, and all that reminded him of the stab wounds within his mid-stomach: stitches.
As the swordsman made his way to the edge of the new fighting arena, excitement overtook him. And not just because he'd managed to make it to the semi-finals.. "Finally, I doubt I'll be drowning or freezing my a** off in this place - about damned time." A roar amidst the sea of spectators confirmed his entry, as the fighter first grasped his dark, cotton shirt - then ripped it right off, revealing the dark gray chain mesh below. The feel of the cloth draping over his wrists had been bothering him for quite some time..
Making his way through the ropes, Omi Barsait was enjoying the new ring. Already designating a corner for himself, southeast - Omi began contemplating the match as much as humanly possible. "Smallest arena yet, perfect for in-fights. No idea who this Reyin guy is, but if he's long-ranged specialty, he'll have a difficult time keeping me from getting in close. That means I won't have to rely on the manipulation, more than likely.. perfect. If I win, this'll let me recover some; I doubt I could handle conjuring that much again so swiftly."
Even though his signature sheathed blade remained upon his back, the fighter was stepping in place with eager agility; eyes darting around for when his opponent would make an appearance. After all, Omi was a rather big boxing enthusiast, and nothing in this tournament yet reminded him more of a good boxing ring than this arena here; he seemed rather impatient, then, to execute some actions prior matches didn't permit.
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Appearance A 5’10’’ human man of 18 years, weighing in at 172 lbs. Long, wavy hair; dark brown-black, parted in the front and reaching shoulder length. Scantly pale skin, amber brown eyes. An "average-thin" build; arms are rather thin, although both legs are slightly more stocky. Shoulder-blades protrude more than the norm. A pair of spectacles rest upon his nose, earpieces in place; dark frames, thin-wired. Non-prescription glasses; cosmetic only. Round-framed with lens just about the size of his eyes. Teeth, an off-white, are all rather average save the four canines, which are particularly jagged; almost stereotypically "vampire-" esque, though this is merely a coincidence. Dark cotton shirt, sleeves coming mid-length of either arm; in matching material and hue, a pair of pants - cuffs reaching right to the top of either foot, two pockets at either side and slightly "modernized" in overall production, thus having a bit of weight to its form. Two plain, "short" socks; no design or specific texture. Over these, two boots - very tight cured leather, a dark sheen to them; flexible yet very sturdy, comes to a rounded point, 5 lbs. 3 oz. a boot. Inclined treads, for a mixture of good traction and mobility. Top of said boots rise above the pant legs up to roughly 4" above the apex of the sock lines. Aside from the above apparel, there are three items Barsait wears which bear significant importance in mentioning. i. BODY APPAREL: Chain Mesh: Linked together in a weave of metal, this thin one-piece suit of metal (only 1/3rds an inch thick) lies beneath all of the young man's clothing. The only areas one can truly get a good sight of it, would be along the bare arms, and right at the neckline of the above mentioned shirt. Nice, clean, durable steel; inner rings being a diameter of 10 mm. Surprisingly light at seven kilograms, it is rather adaptive to freestyle movement while still providing a nice defensive resistance against enemy weaponry - since otherwise, all a sharp blade would have to pierce, would be.. cloth. ii. ARM APPAREL: Gauntlets: Cured leather, made sturdy for repeated use; these gauntlets are fingertip-less at the knuckles for enhanced dexterity. Extending along the wrists and capping off in a curved edge, the insides are made for comfort - tight on the skin as to maximize proper hand movements, whilst the exterior is made very durable. Along the upper region of either, is a burned circle - quite possibly the alphabetical "O." iii. WEAPONRY: Division Blade: A one-handed sword with the handle space for two hands, though this would only be for powerful over-hand swings most likely, as it is made to move rapidly with merely a single hand utilizing it. The blade being made of the "proper" refining procedure of folding steel over many thousands of times. A modification of the originally two-handed Chinese saber of the Republican era "Miao dao," this blade has a number of specific parameters. -Narrow blade of 1.12 meters in length. Straight blade which curves (only slightly) from the halfway point to the tip; the bottom edge perfectly straight. -A more "English"-style cross-guard where the handle and blade meet, oval in shape and quite durable. -Thin, grooving leather straps of dark black hue wrapped about the hilt for better hold. -Blade is overall rather lightweight; .9 kg total not including the handle space. A rather interesting note: the pommel (piece capped on the bottom of the sword's handle, not wrapped in leather) is actually rather hefty in comparison to the rest of the sword's structure, around .5 kg by itself.. possibly for counterbalancing purposes. The hilt, all in all, is made of a strong mixture of refined steel and silver. The blade itself, stainless steel with the edge made of heavily sharpened tungsten along the edges. Lightweight but with enough weight, able to make an impact; therefore an ideal weapon for this individual.
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Posted: Tue Jun 24, 2008 4:10 pm
Nobody. That blonde kid. The guy from Aekea. The bartender. The slacker. The showman. The underdog. The Cinderella Story. All nicknames that Reyin had earned over his course of the Gaian Tenkaichi Bodoukai. While the blonde swordsman had been anything but unimpressive during his climb to the top, he was a surprise sight in the semi-finals. Particularly following his near-death experience in the previous round. Fortunately, after a two night stay in the hospital Reyin was deemed fit to compete and spent the rest of his free time running through a regiment of rehab exercises. Now he was, in his grandfather's terms, 'fit as a fiddle' and rarin' to go. The crowd roared to life as the second of two fighters entered the arena, hopping up and down from a combination of anxiety and anticipation. He worked his way down the ramp, slapping the hands of eager fans and just feeding off the energy pumping through the arena. Pyrotechnics burst behind him and the arena blared with some weird techno music that Reyin would have probably never listened to in his life. It was time for the semi-finals, and the kid couldn't have been more ready. He was wearing a sleeveless white t-shirt, though it was pretty obvious that he had done the sleeve-removing himself judging by the rough holes his arms fit through. A white headband bearing the Nike insignia was on his forehead while similar wristbands donned his, well...wrists. Both of his hands were taped up with athletic tape, while his upper legs were covered by a pair of plain blue athletic shorts. His hunting knife, lost in the battle against Tres, was nowhere to be seen. Fortunately, though, his long sword was still sheathed in its scabbard across his back. He vaulted up onto the apron, hopped over the ropes, and tested out the surface of the ring before he made his way to the center of the ring and stuck a fist straight out towards Omi, obviously expecting a fist pound in return. He took a momentary break from chewing his gum to crack a wide-toothed grin. "Good luck, bud." Well, at least he seemed like a pretty sporting guy. Since you Graced me with a brief rundown.. Appearance: Reyin is a solid five feet, eleven inches tall and has a rather lean athletic build, looking as though he weighs close to 180 pounds. His blonde hair is cropped fairly short, though due to his lifestyle the hair is often unkempt, messy, and generally in need of a good washing. His eyes are green, and his face is considered by many women to be boyishly handsome due to the lack of facial hair. Of caucasian descent, Reyin is naturally light skinned and despite his constant time in the outdoors, he remains unable to develop a very dark complexion. The only real distinguishable markings present on Reyin are a number of small scars dotting his chest and lower torso, although none of which appear to be large enough to cause a fuss or tell a story over. A natural athlete, Reyin's muscle definition is mostly apparent when actively working muscles, not when relaxing or during low-intensity activity. His sword, long enough to be uncomfortable at the hip, is often set into its scabbard with the strap looped over his right shoulder. Long sword: Reyin's main weapon is four and a quarter feet long from the pommel to the tip of the blade. The weapon itself is fairly utilitarian, containing no intricate designs or special engravings. The sword is sturdy, double edged, and designed with a slightly elongated hilt allowing comfortable room for two hands should the situation warrant it. The weapon is kept in it's scabbard and looped around Reyin's back, with the hilt exposed over Reyin's right shoulder.
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Posted: Wed Jun 25, 2008 10:47 pm
Quite restless, given Omi had been more or less restrained from any extreme movements until the actual fight at hand - the energy screaming to be burned was surging through his body. Granted, it was actually a rather large surprise he'd actually won the last bout against the fighter Ryu; especially given the swordsman didn't discover this until waking up on an infirmary bed.
Still, it was the semi-finals.. if his fists could carry him through this match, the finals were a guaranteed thing. Just the thought was entrancing. Slowly, the eagerness faded into a deadened, sharp expression. Omi was no stranger now, to contestants starting off a match bombarding him, aiming for his vital organs, attempting to freeze him solid, or in some cases: outright trying to snap him in two. There were welcomed exceptions, but these fights often held a deadly angle mixed in with the fair sport.
.. So imagine the dark-haired fighter's surprise at his opponent, who not only didn't seem all too murderous, but was chewing bubble gum and had an outstretched fist waiting for Omi's return.
Shoulders slouching, the swordsman's rarely-worn frames slipped down his nose a tad comically. Grasping them and tossing them out the ring, given they were already bothering him - Barsait walked over whilst regaining his composure, reaching the center of the ring and met Reyin's fist with his right. Reassured this would be a good, honest bout within the ring after all - Omi ventured in response: "You too. Here's to not knocking eachother the ******** out, no?"
Chuckling nonchalantly whilst stepping back, forcibly stilling the thought that such an open display might've been a trap of some sort - Omi was feeling all of the motivation in the world re-enter him. Grasping a leather strap on his back, it was then that the mercenary called out: "Say, before we get this going too far, you interested in turning this into a pure scrap? No need for our respective weapons if so. You don't have to accept if you don't believe me - but trust me, this sword on my back's the only one I'm carrying." Another leap of faith.
The truth of the matter was: be it something like his first fight against Mooo, or something else entirely - Barsait was craving a good use of his fists. For days and matches on end, they went without any real use; to either head to the finals or be chopped out of the ring at the last moment and be able to attribute it to a good old brawl was about as entertaining an idea as he could see.
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Posted: Thu Jun 26, 2008 4:21 pm
Reyin, after the fist bump, took a single step back and cocked his head off to the side. He launched the chewing gum out of his mouth, where it landed just outside the ring where the two would be duking it out for the duration of, well, who knew how long.
"You too. Here's to not knocking eachother the ******** out, no?"
"Man, I'm not making any guarantees"
Reyin's smile never faded, though. Even as his opponent threw up a request. It was odd, considering both of the men were carrying swords and for all intents and purposes, Reyin hadn't really been able to actually use his sword to its utmost potential for the duration of the tournament.
Still, a brief size-up of the kid in front of him and Reyin offered a shrug of his shoulders. He was definetly more of a swordsman than a hand to hand fighter, but that wasn't to say he was completely inept at the art. Formal training or not, Reyin wouldn't have gotten this far if he was one dimensional.
"Whatever."
And he ducked his head down, brought his left hand up to his shoulder, and hooked his thumb into the leather strap. He lifted up, removed the sword, its scabbard, and its strap from his body, and tossed it so the strap looped around one of the turnbuckles.
Reyin would then step back and spit into the palm of his right hand. First he wiped the spit onto the sole of his right sneaker, then he repeated the process for the left shoe. Kicking the toes of his shoes into the ground, Reyin finally nodded in satisfaction before hopping up onto the balls of his feet.
"Alright."
He reached up and thumbed his nose before settling into a stance with his right foot and hand forward. While he kept both of his hands at about chin level, his right arm was close to being fully extended while the left was kept back, elbow cocked at a forty-five degree angle. It was an improvised stance, one that Reyin thought would just look cool in front of a crowd instead of anything that could be attributed to any sort of actual martial art.
"Whenever you're ready, pal."
That smile never left his face.
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Posted: Fri Jun 27, 2008 8:54 pm
"Alright." was Omi's own response; breaking a point that linked his sword sheath's leather strap before slamming it backwards with a suiting right shoulder bump, sliding beneath the ring's ropes and just barely falling off the edge. The crowd gave a nice little uproar at the display; two fighter's tossing away their weapons in a boxer's ring meant one thing to a spectator of this kinda 'sport,' after all. Melee and blood.
Truth was: Barsait was formally trained in the art of a blade - but was more at ease and a natural at hand-to-hand combat. Not to say he couldn't be effective with his weapon; more that it was difficult to fight an opponent with it, without seizing an opportunity to stab a major organ or pierce someone's throat. That kind of combat didn't suit his style, you could say.
Smiling in a confident manner, the swordsman decided to take a stance of his own. Omi loved mimicking martial arts and "strikes" he witnessed other fighters pull that seemed effective, but if there was a style of fighting he felt at home with - it was boxing. Alternating from southpaw to orthodox, switching from an outward striking position to a pure swarmer performance face to face: it was second nature to him and made fights damned entertaining in his view.
Ergo: the dark-clad shifted his apart from one another, shoulder length apart. Both of his hands rose up- elbows locked, and pressed together in front of his nose & mouth. His leather gauntlets weren't exactly boxing gloves, but they obscured the lower half of his face regardless. Finally, the fighter hunched forward, just a tad - before alerting his opponent: "Let's get this thing going. Good luck if one of us get put in the infirmary."
Letting the final word trail off, the swordsman began to make his advance in this awkward stance; a step at a time, left foot first by a good inch and a half, the right following. He was treating this bout as a rather friendly one, given his opponent seemed like an alright sort; but, already, Omi was getting into his "rhythm" - a step from the left, a step from the right.. surely no quick way to get to Reyin, it was pissing off not just a few of the more rowdy crowd members wanting the two to rush and bash eachother.
Still - the fight had officially begun.
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Posted: Fri Jun 27, 2008 9:38 pm
Reyin was a far less patient man, and that much was going to be fairly evident by the fact that, while Omi was stepping side to side, taking his time in approaching his opponent, Reyin was only going to be making one move.
He waited, watching Omi as he closed in, then, as Omi was moving from Reyin's left to his right, the blonde swordsman reacted. He stepped inwards, taking a rather long but quick stride with his right foot before dropping his right hand to about waist level. The arm pulled back slightly, elbow cocking as the hand curled into a fist.
Reyin's step had put him practically chest to chest with the other swordsman, leaving little room open for a straight of any kind to be effective. Reyin was typically a far more offensive than defensive fighter, and while Reyin was far from the strongest person entered in the Budoukai, he was easily capable of dishing out some powerful punches.
Reyin's left hand remained up in more of a guard position, though given how close Reyin had stepped inward it was more of a formality than anything, keeping his face from being grabbed or something similar.
Anyways, back to the attack.
With Reyin stepping inward as he dropped his right hand, the next move was simple and practically simultaneous. Once he got all up in Omi's grill, he'd shoot his right hand upward in a short uppercut, attempting to dig his fist into Omi's right side, just below his ribcage. It wasn't as effective as a shot to the diaphragm, but it'd surely knock some of the wind out of the younger man's sails.
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Posted: Sat Jun 28, 2008 12:25 am
Usually, one'd call a punch cocked back "telephoned" because the direction they'd go towards is ideally easy to predict; the fun part about this little rush was- it didn't matter if Omi predicted it or no, the effect would be the same. It looked like the fighter whom rushed him had a nice first shot coming in.
The thing about Barsait was - if an opponent threw an orthodox method of attack for a loop, he was one to adjust. Reyin closed the distance between these two fighters as though he himself was an infighter boxer; clearly, whether he knew it or no, his leg strength was superb. A good dash to chop through any distance followed by a punishing blow in the enemy fighter's body, while still keeping a guard up for safety - it was as solid an attack as any.
Barsait's guard, commonly called the "Peek-a-Boo," was great at closing the distance on enemy fighters and weathering numerous strikes or flurries, but Reyin managed to make a good choice by striking one of his sides; the area most susceptible in this guard, also a wise move whether intended or no. Sure enough, Reyin could probably hear a bit of breath force itself out of Barsait's lips against his raised fists - a strike like that was going to be painful even if not to its max strength.
.. However, here was where things would get unusual. Instead of trying to back away to regain ground, breath, and posture - or even shift it away with his right elbow, Omi pressed his rib and suited side against Reyin's fist, closing the span of the outstretched arm and forcing the two fighters just that tiny bit closer. Pivoting on the spot, Omi was shifting his entire body left-forward; using the close distance to perform one returning strike. And not with one of his fists.
A straight, no, even a "jab" would be useless at their close proximity unless they went for liver shots. But the more 'patient' fighter showed his calling card: his left arm swiftly exited his boxing guard.. with the left elbow swinging clockwise into his opponent's guard, left fist pressing into the right to get leverage.
It was a textbook "Elbow Slash," a move Omi read on during his rather boring infirmary stays both in the previous GTB and the current - which belonged to the Muay Thai school. A diagonal "slash" with the tip of the elbow's bone structure; diagonal use wouldn't leave much impact, but the dangerous thing was - they usually leave rather nasty cuts. To top it, they don't need much of a swing; flick your arm the right way, the effect's the same whether you're winded or no.
Ideally, these kind of moves are used to cut an opponent's eyebrows, obviously leaking blood and so to obscure their vision and hinder their performance - but that was impossible. Reyin wisely had a loose guard up; it was in the enemy fighter's face's direction, but would probably have hand tissue block it no problem. Still - if one wasn't expecting it, a cutting strike coming from Reyin's right would be a little surprising.
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Posted: Sat Jun 28, 2008 4:04 pm
Reyin shifted his upper body backwards, leaning his head back the most. Not because he knew of the slashing power of the elbow, but because he didn't want to get his nose rearranged by what he assumed was a simple strike.
The lean was just in the shoulders and head, both keeping Reyin and Omi in close proximity while just barely leaving the bridge of his nose exposed to the elbow, which raked across the skin and split it open, a thin trail of blood following along behind Omi's elbow.
Reyin's eyes widened at the development, hardly expecting the biting sting of a cut from what he had assumed to be a rather blunt attack. If anything, though, he was just glad that his nose wasn't broken. Lord knew how much that would have hurt.
Still, hardly being a meat tank Reyin flinched from the attack, but then leaned forward, lifting his right foot straight into the air. Again, because of the close proximity, a kick wouldn't be effective at all. And the angle he had presented with the knee was just putting it straight up. Reyin wasn't that much taller than Omi, so he wasn't trying to knee the guy in the chin, either.
It soon became pretty apparent what Reyin was doing when the ball of his foot came to rest on Omi's left thigh. He pushed upwards, using his opponent as a platform to propel himself up and backwards, if only a small amount. All he needed was some room...
"SIYAH!"
With his waist just above Omi's head level, all Reyin had to do now was turn his hips and bring his left leg up, kicking across his body to plant the toe of his sneaker right into Omi's temple. The kick certainly had a lot of flair to it, and unlike the punch from before, a suitable amount of 'oomph' as well.
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Posted: Sat Jun 28, 2008 10:25 pm
Barsait felt his elbow grease skin; he didn't much care where, only that it made contact. So, his gaze didn't do much of a follow up, instead trying to make a good, yet swift analysis of where the next opponent's strike would come from. The two fighters weren't quite in a clinch, yet distance wise, that was damned near the case; there wasn't much room for error for either Reyin or Omi to afford before a hit made contact.
His left arm was for all intensive purposes, locked forward for now; it was in the process of being retracted, but wouldn't have enough clearing room to get another strike in to prevent Reyin from countering. Sipping in air through his parsed lips to keep from going 'dry' and potentially losing the ability to stand proper, Barsait felt his opponent's foot relocate itself in an unusual spot.
"Ah? What-" Eyes widening fiercely when he realized his body was being made the platform for an attack, Barsait didn't quite have a good look on the tip of the sneaker coming his way; it was a little late to prevent it from making an entry, either. All he could do, was two actions instinctively: the first, raising his right shoulder up as much as possible to possibly offer a little buffer on the side of Reyin's sneaker, his shoe size likely being the determining factor on if that'd make a difference or not - the other, a little more practical action. His right knee started to shake, as though it was about to do something - when one final, spontaneous thought split through Omi's mind. That right knee stopped entirely.
"!" He didn't even have time to consider if it was a good idea; instead, blindly believing the next course of action may be effective. Barsait's skull tilted, just a fraction of an inch to the left - before Reyin's foot made contact..
.. And Omi followed the trail of the foot with his upper torso, slamming his own head harshly to the upper-left in the hopes of bashing into any area on Reyin's - using the enemy fighter's own kick as a means of propelling him faster. A kick and a headbutt, the situation was blurry already - this was going to, needless to say, hurt the dark-clad fighter like Hell, if not worse. But was it effective?
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Posted: Sun Jun 29, 2008 10:46 am
Reyin was a pretty average kid, so his shoe size wasn't going to be super huge. About an eleven, or so. Still, he was kicking with his toe so the shoe would be narrowed down quite a bit, probably skimming off the shoulder or bouncing off the top. The head wasn't exactly a small target, though.
Reyin's kick had such torque on it that Reyin's left arm was moving across his body as a result of the thing. He had even completed a quarter of a turn by the time he was landing, with his left foot crossed over his right and his left arm hanging out in front of and across his body.
Unfortunately, Reyin didn't really get a whole lot of time to enjoy the landing, because something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye.
"Shi-!"
CRACK!
Omi's head smashed against Reyin's chin as the blonde turned and attempted to swing himself out of the way of the headbutt. With his leg positioning this was awkward, and the disorientation from having his jaw knocked a few inches to the left didn't really help matters, either. He stumbled backwards, slow to get a good handle on the situation.
The headbutt had impacted hard enough that Reyin had nearly bitten his tongue off. The fresh metallic taste of blood ran into his mouth, and Reyin was shocked out of his momentary confusion.
He stopped his backwards stumble before he fell on his own a**, planting his left foot first before taking a single step back with his right foot.
Reyin had regained his balance, but Omi had the benefit of opportunity, it seemed.
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Posted: Tue Jul 01, 2008 10:33 am
A resounding sound emanated when Omi's skull met with Reyin's chin. The crowd roared at this development; the dark-clad fighter had turned an impending attack into a boost for his own offensive, and it seemed effective as Reyin barely managed to keep standing. Normally, Barsait would have eagerly closed in a fierce manner, capitalizing on the situation.
However, one would have to remember: Barsait was just kicked on one side of his skull, and bashed into a man's chin on the other. A "headache" was too mild a word to describe it; the swordsman practically galloped backwards, left foot followed by right in a now orthodox stance - crossing his arms in the former "Peek-a-Boo" guard instinctively whilst trying to let his head recover. It wouldn't be wise to drop his guard to check with his fingertips, but he didn't feel any blood leaking down his face - and he was keeping consciousness, so it could be said Omi came well out of the encounter. But as the vision distorting feeling of having his head bashed about subsided, the swordsman was well aware: that was a risky move he pulled. Another like it with bad luck could result in him being out of this fight for good.
Masking his disorientation by weaving in place, the swordsman was a good.. two feet from Reyin, give or take? Again, it seemed like he was on defensive- however, bobbing and weaving in place, something was amiss. Partially, it was a bid on time to recover; but already, the swordsman was thinking of how to strike next, eagerly allowing his opponent to take the initiative if Reyin so wished it. Something of interest to note: both of Barsait's kneecaps in the grounded boxing stance, began to tense.
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