The coliseum is an oval (ellipse) with the outer measurements as follows: Length: 189 meters (615 ft) Width: 156 meters (510 ft) Height: 48 meters (157 ft). The inner measurements (arena area) Length: 88 meters (287 ft) Width: 56 meters (180 ft) Height: 4.6 meters (15 ft). Modeled akin to the coliseum in Rome, Italy. The interior of the arena is a simple pit of packed dirt, the thousands of seats available for many to view the happenings within. The arena itself is protected on the walls closing it in with runes, keeping the audience from potential danger of stray attacks and a wide range of damage. These runes also keep the foundation of the arena from being all but obliterated.
Posted: Tue Apr 22, 2014 6:02 pm
"Can you believe it?"
These words captured the general sentiment of the crowd. These murmurs of disbelief permeated the rousing chants for the coming battle. Few who had witnessed the match between the warlord Ertai Vexic and the half-breed Nierro could have predicted the victor with absolute certainty. The match had been far too bloody an affair--and all to the satisfaction of the ravenous spectators.
In this Contest of so-called Champions, it no longer mattered who won or who lost. Only blood mattered.
Nierro had no problem with that.
He had advanced in the tournament, and so he found himself once again stepping out onto the familiar sands, the familiar scent of coppery blood filling his nostrils. He took in a deep breath to enjoy the fragrance as a devious smile crept to his lips. The crowd howled like jackals, a symphony to his wolfish ears.
"HERE HE COMES!"
The announcer's voice cracked like a peel of thunder over the roar of the spectators.
"THE WOLF THAT DEFEATED A GOD!"
Nierro frowned dismissively at the acclaim. He knew better than anyone that his victory came as little more than a technicality. He had only barely managed to survive an encounter with a monster greater than himself, and he had the wounds to show it. The match had affected Nierro on a deeper level than any previous fight in his tumultuous life. The warlord of Vexa had made a profound, lasting impact on the half-wolf. Even now, Nierro could feel the abyssal shadow looming over his shoulder, whispering sweet madness in his ear.
He had been branded in battle, and he knew he would suffer greatly for it. But he also knew with this suffering came an infernal power far greater than the likes of which he had yet attained. He had the power to do more than simply survive now. He had gained so much more from his previous experience on the blood-soaked sands of the arena.
He had the power of a conqueror now.
"NEEEEEEEEEIIIIIIRRRRROOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
The announcer cried in perverse elation, once again comically mispronouncing Nierro's name in his rampant enthusiasm.
Standing at 5'9", the lean silver-haired swordsman with wolfish ears and a bushy tail did not have the appearance of a conqueror, but his eerie yellow eyes would convey the message to his would-be opponent. Nierro would show her and the world as he showed his opponent before her--his will was indomitable, and his appetite for violence was insatiable.
He wore a simple black t-shirt to accompany the same black slacks and combat boots he wore in his previous matches. He also wore a pair of simple black fabric gloves that afforded absolutely no real protection whatsoever. He had discarded the leather jacket he wore in those matches rather than have it repaired from the deep gash Ertai cut across his chest. His twin scimitars and twin hatchets remained ever present at his sides, attached to the same crisscrossed belts. The burns on his face had almost completely healed at this point, much to the delight of his most ardent female fans. Only minute traces remained, along with a thin scar crossing down his jaw and neck and another splitting his left eyebrow to scrape down his cheek.
Finally accustomed to the screech of the spectators, Nierro felt his hearing was sharper than ever (and taking a page from Bojuka Brown's Bojuka Book, he could even see faster, too!). He spread his arms out, eliciting a surge of cheers from the audience like a rumbling tremor in the air. He knew then that they loved him--or, more precisely, they loved the carnage he created. Whether he truly earned his victory or not no longer mattered.
Only blood mattered, and he would give them all the blood they could handle. They would gorge themselves until they vomited, and they would love him for it.
He could get used to this.
Lowering his arms to his sides, Nierro cocked his head over his shoulder to where his opponent would most likely appear as a vicious grin swept across his face. His yellow eyes burned with his furious lust for even greater carnage, and as soon as his opponent caught a glimpse of them they would speak to her.
Once upon a time the brawler might of jumped at the chance to fight this far into a tournament, determined to destroy everything and everyone in her path to prove just how fearsome she truly was. However times change and people change with them, the once vile woman had grown wary of fighting for glory, thus that primal urge to shed blood and dominate all those around her had begun to fade away. Sure it would never be gone entirely, the need to scratch that itch would arise again soon enough given time. It was only natural to get the build up of rage out of ones system.
For now the brawler simply walked into the arena, the announcer hesitating to say her name for the simple fact the crowd had gone silent. She was a murderer. Having lost the respect of a great number of people during her last two fights, one in which she killed her husband, the other she didn't want to fight at all. Eric had of course suffered at her hands, but she was the one who had come out worse off.... She was mentally unnerved, unsure of the power she had been gifted, watching as it had been so easily stripped away and defended against left her less than sure about whether she should use it again at all.
Here was a broken woman.
Even if Heita was alive and had shown her his affection, it would never enable her to take back what she had done,. The rage stirred within her, quickly forced back by her own will to keep it locked away. Lest she give in again and let her self become the monster everyone now knew her to be.
Stopping part way in the dark haired woman would raise her hand to silence the announcer and those who whispered harsh words about her. Those words didn't hurt anymore, but it didn't make them any less irritating.
"I have come to forfeit this match."
Any who continued to whisper would be stunned into silence, it was heavy and uncomfortable to say the least, the woman whom had decided to dress in her 'sunday' best (Please note that it is Gaia Sunday best.) which consisted of a nice white pencil skirt and a purple singlet with shoulder length white gloves, matching heels and and leg warmers and of course lacking the usual spiked collar she would normally never be seen without.
So there she would stand, waiting for the jeering and hate to come crashing down upon her, all the while her dark brown eyes would seek out those of her would be opponent. his wolf like features making her stomach turn as she realised what it was she had been placed against.... a furry. A deep seeded dislike was more than evident as her eyes narrowed and burned holes into his own. But what she had said had been be final decision. She was not fit to fight, so she would walk away form the arena with what little pride she had left. After the Furry acknowledged her resignation from the match that is.
Posted: Thu Apr 24, 2014 4:19 pm
Nierro caught wind of the rumors floating around the event, though he never paid them much mind. They spoke of the woman who killed her husband to advance in the tournament, the coldhearted harpy who turned on her own lover without a trace of remorse. She would surely allow nothing and no one to prevent her rise to the championship.
Despite the proliferation of these amusing rumors, Nierro found the silence that fell through the crowd incredibly strange. It was odd that so many among them had some shred of moral decency, or any reverence for the fallen contestants. They came to see blood, and at least half of them wouldn't care if they witnessed a man slay his own child in mortal combat for the sole sake of their entertainment.
The source of their discontent, a broken woman entered the arena, a mere shell of a warrior. Nierro could hear the whispers of the crowd clearly, including many among them who wanted to see him skin her alive for her sins. He smiled, for a moment, until detestable words of defeat poured from her mouth.
She came to forfeit.
Nierro frowned again, displeased at this turn of events. Her eyes finally met with his, and as she finally deigned to acknowledge his existence, he could feel the hate in her gaze. So his smile returned, smug and sure. He could tell by the spiteful look in her eyes she hated men or half-breeds, or both.
And with that, he had all the fuel he needed for the fire.
He walked forward in a casual strut, a flicker of amusement twinkling in his eyes as the only response to her fury and sorrow. He seemed to think this was all some kind of terribly funny joke.
As he moved forward he drew one of his scimitars into his left hand while he took a hatchet in his right. He let his arms hang loosely at his sides as he approached her, though. His predatory yellow eyes remained locked on her form, taking in the details of her attire. He had also heard a rumor that she liked to fight half-naked. Such a shame that turned out to be a lie.
"How sad," Nierro cooed with derision. "A pitiful little lamb wandered into a wolf's den, and now she bleats for mercy."
The half-wolf twirled his weapons around in his hands as he stalked towards her, giving her only precious moments to realize that if she was not looking for a fight, she would need to run right back out of the gate she entered through. But judging by the look in his eyes, she might not even be safe there. Rules be damned, Nierro wanted blood. It was his right. They could disqualify him for tearing the quitter apart, but he determined to have her in pieces by the time they intervened.
"You're a disgrace to yourself and all those you've defeated to be here. So run along, then. Let your husband rot in his grave alone like he deserves. Or stay, and I'll reunite the two of you." By the point Nierro came within a couple of steps of his sword's striking range, leaving Jay the option to stand her ground or begin to back away. She would not have the luxury of the choice for more than a moment.
"But a coward's a coward..." He muttered as he took another step, pausing for half a second before suddenly lunging forward!
"RUN!"
With a silver flash the sword in his left hand shot forward like a bullet as his left foot slammed into the dirt. He sank into a lowered stance, bending his knee and extending his trailing right leg. This gave him enough reach in that very moment to impale Jay through the stomach and leave a full foot of blade blood-soaked blade to protrude out her back--assuming she stood in place, taking the attack as some sort of penance for her crimes.
The thrust of the blade came quicker than the average eye could follow, but unless she truly wished to see her husband in the afterlife, Nierro knew a fighter of her caliber would not fall so easily. The very second his blade reached its full extension, in practically the same time his boot hit the dirt, he would retract his arm, his finger looped around the cross-guard to allow him to pull it back much quicker. And as soon as he planted his left foot, he pulled back on his hips to straighten his body up in preparation for an impossibly quick follow-up.
If Jay had the conviction to fight, or at least to try and show that she would not be fazed by his attack, she would find it was of course a two-pronged assault.
If she stepped to her left, she would find Nierro taking a follow-up passing step to his right as he swung the hatchet in his right hand to catch her in the shoulder with more than enough force to split into the bone.
If she stepped to her right, she would find him make a step to follow, only he would instead roll his left wrist to the side before whipping his scimitar back out in a cruel swipe to spill the contents of her belly.
And if she stood in place, allowing herself to be impaled, she would find him take a step forward to swing his axe for her jaw, probably cleaving it from the socket. No more talk of forfeiture then.
Barring supernatural powers or agility, that gave her only one real option--retreat. Turn tail and run, with Nierro hot on her heels, nipping and biting with sword and axe in a comical display of dominance. If she meant to forfeit, she would forfeit in utter shame.
If she meant to fight, he gave her more than enough reason to rouse her fighting spirit.
The word spoken as she threw herself backwards, her feet leaving the ground for a moment before she came back down and slid back on the packed earth, her heels digging in and leaving gouges to mark the trail of about four feet.
"You want to fight then fight, throw down your weapons and take me on hand to hand. Unless you're scared of an unarmed woman? See no weapons.."
The woman grasped her top and ripped it apart with ease, revealing the white bra beneath, this followed by her tearing the split in the skirt right up to the waist and turning it to the side so that it sat on her hip.
"Pathetic excuse for a ******** fighter, you need to be put down mutt. Should of let me walk away.."
Those black eyes drank in his image, focused on him like a predator about to tear the throat out of its prey. Maybe he would take the bait and face her in hand to hand, maybe he would do so because of her words being spoken loudly for all to hear and the crowd watched with the bloodlust of vultures waiting for the fight to commence in full.
Posted: Sun Apr 27, 2014 3:37 pm
Darkest Silver
((OOC| Excuse the delay. This is a pleasant surprise! Looking forward to a good fight.))
Nierro took another step forward as Jay took a retreating leap back, twirling the axe and then the scimitar in his hands with a flourish as a mad grin split across his face. His opponent had found her conviction.
Good.
He could still see fiery wrath in her eyes bright as the sun's rays, even as they turned black as night from her dark power. He had no doubt she made it this far into the tournament for a reason. She had strength, and now she had the will to use it.
"HahahaHAHA!" Nierro tossed his head back in a humorless guffaw in answer to her challenge. Time and again his foes gave him the same plea. Throw down your weapons unless you're afraid. He found it especially amusing given their current circumstance.
"Why would I do that? You have made it this far for a reason, woman. Prove it to me." The half-wolf smiled maliciously, the tone of his voice and his relaxed posture a cruel mockery of her challenge. If the crowd hated her, seeing her fight at a disadvantage would do little to change their opinions of her or him. If anything, they would relish in her suffering as the odds stacked against her.
As for Nierro, his gaze turned cold and he gave her a stern frown.
"You're a disgrace to yourself and all those you've fought to make it here. Crying for mercy..." his raspy voice trailed off for a moment, but then his wicked smile returned as his eyes lit up deviously. "The mercy you denied your dearly deceased beloved."
Casually, Nierro spun his hatchet around in his hand, slinging into the loop on his belt. His right hand then deftly moved to curl around the hilt of his second scimitar. In practically the same second the blade swept out of its sheath in a silver flash. In case Jay charged at him in rage, she would find the scimitar aimed to slash across her belly in an instant.
But Nierro actually had no intention of attacking with the blade if she wisely chose to keep her distance. If she did, he would immediately toss the second blade out right at her. He did not throw it with enough force to cause serious damage, but Jay would find it difficult to try and catch the hilt in mid-air without the edge biting into her arm or body. She would have to move out of the way and let it clatter to the ground or stumble to try and catch it.
[Scimitar x2] - A pair of finely-crafted, custom-forged swords. They have gradually curved blades similar to a scimitar, or more accurately a cross between a saber and katana. They also have hilts that slightly curve in the opposite direction of the blade and feature a short crossguard. The blades are composed of high-quality carbon steel and the edges are laced with shimmering silver. Bling bling. This gives them the durability and cutting power of steel with the magical properties of silver that allows them to harm certain supernatural creatures.
Nierro had no intention of taking advantage of either situation, but he did want to try and make her look like more of a fool for her request. And there she'd have it. He relinquished one of his blades so that they could stand on equal footing.
Of course, it was all a ruse. What might seem like a gesture of fairness to the audience, one they hardly demanded he take, the two fighters would know for the insult it was. If she could beat the swordsman at his own game, she would earn her right as champion. As it stood, however, he had put her at an even greater disadvantage if she chose to swallow her pride and take his weapon. After all, who knew the strengths and weaknesses of his own weapon better than he?
She would see it in his relaxed posture as he rested the spine of his own scimitar on his left shoulder, shooting her a half-cocked grin. He saw her as even less of a threat with his weapon.
His furry tail swished back and forth as if to taunt her.
Again Jay found herself biting her tongue to force herself to listen to his taunts, he didn't know that her husband had been revived, he didn't need to. The words still stung the same. He was enjoying the rage that had taken hold of the woman, although this time she retained the smallest of control as she remained still while he 'showboated' for the blood thirsty crowd. they wanted to see her die, some how she had escaped death in the last two matches, but this time they knew she was at a serious disadvantage.
Heita they had gone power for power blow, Eric they had gone claw to flesh. But Nierro... She would need to find a way to overcome him....
Then it happened, after his mocking laugh carried through the air he tossed her a sword. Jay growled as she watched it travel towards her, she waited to step aside and avoid being skewered with the weapon.
"The ******** style="color: darkred">The woman looked to it with a grimace, she was a blade fighter, but not with swords.... She much preferred trench blades. But a weapon was a weapon, as insulting as it was she would not deny the 'gift', the eyes that watched her move over and lean down to pick it up with a heavy sigh. Testing it in her right hand and frowning at the strange weight and shape of it, this was going to be difficult to use... Although she took the spine in the opposite hand, taking note that one side wouldn't cut her to ribbons she she need to grab it to brace for an attack.
It would make things interesting to say the least.
"I am going to cut that tail off and shove it down your god damn throat!"
The woman would snarl as she looked to him, meeting those amused eyes with nothing but hate, it was radiating off her as black veins began to spread out from the eyes over her cheeks...
Why wasn't she charging him? Well simply because she wanted him to come to her...
Posted: Tue Apr 29, 2014 6:57 pm
The half-breed responded to Jay's bold threat with a wild grin, flashing his long, pearly canines. He tapped the blunt spine of his blade on his relaxed shoulder as time passed for a moment. He stood erect with his free arm resting against his side. He wanted to make it clear that he gave her every opportunity to attack him while he left his guard down, and yet she still refused. The crowd clamored for blood, and mostly hers. He used her own strategy against her as a display of her hesitation rather than cunning. The crowd ate it up. They feasted on it as their anger for her multiplied.
Of course, the two fighters knew better. Just as Jay was not foolish enough to think the relaxed half-wolf had his guard down, Nierro knew Jay had some serious power up her sleeve. No fighter made it far in Gaia on willpower and guts alone--or, in her case, on sheer hatred alone. If she wanted to stuff his bushy tail down his throat, she would have to have the power to strike him in the first place. With his next step, Nierro set out to prove she had no power at all against him.
And it came with an actual step. Without any indication of his actions, the half-wolf suddenly shifted forward as he took a step with his right foot. His body sank low, his hips carrying him in one fluid motion as he dipped forward, then suddenly weaved to the left! He took a passing sidestep with his left foot then to position him roughly at Jay's 2 o'clock, or to the front and right of her. This also brought him into the striking range of his scimitar within a fraction of a second, as he used his fleet footwork and the sway of his whole body to carry him like a feather in the wind. It also helped that he had his bushy tail sweeping to and fro behind him, allowing him to maintain his balance at a breakneck speed that the average human would find difficult to match.
And as his left foot planted itself firmly into the packed dirt of the arena floor, he pivoted on the ball of the foot and swung his scimitar out. His right foot slid back behind him. He aimed to cleave into Jay's right upper arm, allowing the razor sharp blade to bite into the flesh and split the bone open if he had his way. Of course, Jay might find it natural to try and block the strike with the sword she held in her hand. It was certainly within the realm of possibility, but then Nierro's beastly strength and cutting technique meant a hasty block would not spare her arm completely unless she had her own supernatural strength.
[Bestial Physique]: Nierro possesses enhanced strength and endurance for his build roughly equivalent to a peak human fighter 100 pounds heavier than he is. His stamina is tremendous, allowing him to fully exert himself for over an hour before beginning to show signs of fatigue. He can also run at a speed of up to 18 miles per hour. Oddly enough, he can endure and even enjoy extremely low temperatures as if covered in a wolf's fur. His fingernails are also about as sturdy as a wolf's nails, and Nierro often makes great use of them in hand-to-hand combat to gouge his opponent's eyes, fish-hook them, etc. Limitations: The wolf-like ears on top of his head and his bushy tail are tempting targets. Damage to his ears can naturally negate his superior hearing, and significant damage to his tail dramatically affects his balance and renders him unable to perform Fierce Maneuvers.
If she happened to find time to retaliate, she would find that Nierro's movements also allowed him to present only his profile as a target while he remained just within his blade's striking range and no closer. It was a classic fencer's side stance meant to minimize her available target areas, while still providing him maximum reach.
This was a seasoned fighter he was facing, and even if she was at a loss of what to do with the sword she figured it went along the lines of sticking him with the pointy end. However her 'hesitation' allowed him to show her how it was done, so to speak. His movements swift and precise, the extension of his sword arm being the moment when she shifted on her own left foot, the right sliding across the earth before her left slid out towards him a little to allow her to brace for impact. Twisting her body like the graceful dancer she once was to escape the strike intended for her shoulder/arm. However that wouldn't stop his momentum, so as she twisted her arms were brought up with the sword he had given her, left hand pressed to the spin while the right gripped the hilt firmly. Holding it upright against her ample bosom as a stop for his own blade.
Possibly making him aware of the strength that was bottled up within the little woman.
Compound V Wrote:
This million dollar steroid is taken one time only. The purpose of the serum is to enhance strength and speed in a human being in order to make them a more formidable opponent against other/out world-ish creatures. This serum also allows for larger burst of adrenaline to travel through the blood stream at a slightly accelerated speed, this makes the user experience an unnaturally high threshold for pain. [Max Lifting Capacity: - 750lbs, Max Running Speed: - 28mph.]
Hopefully it would catch the blade, the sound of steel against steel ringing out through the arena, Jay now somewhat matching his stance but with her sword not being used as a weapon, but instead a shield.
This was not going to be a good match, being put on the defensive right away left the crowd wanting, their jeers and cries for death made her wary of what was to come if she didn't destroy the furry in front of her. The humility would be almost unbearable, even if Justice had risked his life to save hers due to her almost killing herself out of pride... The brawler was unable to swallow her pride any more, it just wasn't the real her.
So if their swords met Jay would snarl before pushing off with her right foot and sliding the blade along the length of his to the hilt if possible. She needed to get close, it was her element, feeling flesh and bone split beneath her fists... that was her home, not dancing with swords.
Now if all had went to plan she would of course abandon the sword with her left hand, the right still holding it upright as she sought to 'gently caress' the wrist of the hand he had on his blade.
The Touch Wrote:
:: After rescuing a dying mute in Sigil’s streets, an ancient force graced Jay with this unwanted gift; granting her access to the aspect of decay, and allowing the female brawler to become its embodiment. Essentially, this allows her to touch any physical/material substance and implant it with an infectious energy of rotting affluence. While markedly powerful, the “disease” takes time to manifest fully; the impact multiplying with each, successive, touch. While often expressed by touching the same target multiple times, this is not required…Meaning that she may increase the power of The Touch by utilizing it on, for example: a wall, a plant, a person, and then the wall again. Each successive touch increases the potency of the decay by one step (listed below), and progresses Jay one step closer to her “cool down” phase. That being said, she is only able to (safely) raise The Touch to it’s fifth (5th) step; risking damage to herself should she attempt to take it further. In order to continue the decay progression she must use this ability at least once every three (3) posts, or else the counter drops by one step. If forced into her cool-down phase, The Touch immediately resets all the way back to it’s first step after the five (5) round cool-down is complete.
Step One - Blackening of the surface touched: Causes localized burning sensation (similar to a serious sunburn), and tightness to the skin/scales/fur/etc. of any living creature; Weakens any non-living structure/object as if exposed to open flame for approximately a minute.
Posted: Thu May 01, 2014 6:44 pm
The blades met, but for only a fleeting moment.
Once again Nierro's agility proved fortunate for him. In that brief instance of contact between the two, Nierro could tell the woman possessed monstrous strength that surpassed his own. As a swordsman he had mastered a crucial technique long ago to feel the pressure exerted against his blade. He could determine the relative strength of his opponent and whether she meant to stand her ground, give way, or even advance in the face of his assault.
Jay moved quickly in her defense and a genuine smile played across the half-wolf's face as the blades made contact with a metallic ring. But Nierro never intended to leave his arm extended for more than a second, or for the initial attack to even work. His right arm swept back immediately, his sword sliding across his opponent's blade with a spray of sparks. This allowed Nierro to feel Jay's intention through the pressure on the blade right as he pulled his away--she intended to get close.
His own blade acted as a minor buffer between the two. Given her phenomenal strength, he could never hope to stop her, and he did not even bother to try pushing back. Instead his own feet kept moving, carrying his momentum with a quick buck of his hips into a strafing step to his left. This allowed him to quickly evade out of her forward line of attack, or at least force her to keep pivoting to try and meet him. He kept her at sword's length, or at the very least arm's length. She would have to keep turning and make another step to close the distance.
Nierro's right foot swept back behind him as he pivoted to face her with his left side again. He rolled his wrist, twirling his blade around in his hand with a flourish before leaning in on his leading left leg. His blade swept low in a tight arc aimed to cut a deep gash across her right thigh. If she wanted to get in close, he would to limit her mobility so she would never have the chance.
Whether he scored the blow or not, he drew his sword inward. This not only allowed him to slice a potential wound open to create a deeper cut, but with the low angle of the swing and the distance between the two it really served to prevent his blade from getting easily caught so that he could bring it right back into his guard. He would wind up in a sideface stance with his sword hanging diagonally down to cover his body from a retaliatory attack. His right hand would caress the unsharpened spine, much as she had demonstrated moments before. He knew as well as she the value in using the sword as much as a shield as a weapon.
