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Overview
Eight hundred paces north of the black lightning split oak located seventeen paces northwest of the forked willow tree upon the main road between the city of Durem and Lament. That is where a small camoflaged building is found, hidden in the thick trees. The location of a private tournament held by an unknown host; A tournament done away from civilisation and in private for it is one of the most brutal forms of entertainment available; Bloodsport, where almost anything goes and winning is as valuable as life itself.

Eight fighters are invited to compete for the grand prize of 200000 gold, and as for spectators, only those who know about this underground tournament and pay the admittance fee of 50000 gold are allowed entry to spectate. Of course, only the rich and powerful ever gain entry as it is they who know about this, are able to pay then entry fee, and finally place high bets against one another for the victors of the matches. For that is what they do, entertainment to the upper class, betting on the outcome of physically powerful warriors pitted against one another.

*OOC Note 1: Lament is a factional city northwest of Durem in Gaia as shown in the world map at Leviathan Stadium.

*OOC Note 2: 200000 gold IC is converted to 20000 gaian gold, and in the case of 50000 gold admittance fee for spectators, it converts to 5000 gaian gold. Being a private tournament, people will actually have to pay me said amount to make IC posts. This dissuades people from posting unless they really want to, because I dont expect anyone to want to pay that price to post in a simple thread. Everyone can lurk and read, but only those who are allowed to may post.

Location

Though it would seem odd for such an underground tournament to take place in a tiny building in a forest, the small structure is only but the entrance into an abandoned underground missile silo which is now upgraded to a state of the art facility, where the real competition will take place. Staff are posted just inside the doorway into the building which will allow fighters with invitations and the spectators which meet the entry fee to enter through the airtight doorway into the rest of the building. As soon as someone steps through the airlock, there is a constant scent of blood in the air throughout the entire facility.

Moving down the slowly declining hall leads to a stairway. Halfway down the stairway leads into the control room of the facility. The control room is only accessable to staff and is also a super secure area. Continuing down the stairway leads to a tunnel which opens up to the empty missile silo's 75' high by 30' wide open shaft, ringed with grating platforms and stairs leading to lower or higher levels of the cylindrical hollow. The very bottom being the grounds for combat, while the areas above it for spectators as they grab drinks from a small bar stationed here and make bets with one another or entertain themselves by watching the brutal fights take place below their feet.

The combat area is a controlled environment. The very bottom of the empty missile silo is a pool of crimson, countless amounts of blood forming a pool at the combatant's feet. The combatants of course, do not fight in the viscous liquid, but rather, on a grated platform raised above the pool. For every death and injury, the blood of the fallen and injured fall to join the pool below. Twenty feet above the grating where combat takes place, a large piece of crystal clear perforated bulletproof glass covers the entire top of the area but for a small portion where the fighters enter via stairway. This is for the safety of the spectators in case a fighter accidentally throws their weapon skywards. The walls of the fighting area however, as opposed to the clean walls of the silo, are dirty, notched, and bloodstained.

The facility itself is completely monitored from the ventilation to the airlocks, a completely controlled environment which could detect even the undetectable an eliminate it through technology and/or magic. Through the main airlock, scanners and detectors are present to find and eliminate 'unwanted guests' which plan to sneak in on the bodies of others, while the entire facility itself is locked from extrademensional transportation.

*OOC Note 3: Because I'm lazy, and this is a private roleplay anyways, I reserve the right to do some retarded assed posts to bar people who were neither invited nor plays a spectator to participate in this RP.

Brackets and Schedual
Eight combatants have been invited to this tournament where their names have been put through a randomizer to determine the starting matches. The brackets and shedual is as follows.

- Match 1: Mr. Crawley vs Roland Burrne
- Match 2: Lazenca Miranda vs Silver Moonblade
- Match 3: Shouyin vs Vahn Kyonuske
- Match 4: Siat vs C. Fox
- Five minute intermission: Small tour for the wealthy spectators of the combat grounds and silo
- Match 5: Mr. Crawley vs Lazenca Miranda
- Match 6: Shouyin vs C. Fox
- Five minute intermission: Time for the fighters moving onto the finals to recouperate and prepare
- Final: Mr. Crawley vs Shouyin

Lateralus - Roland Appears

Would Roland Burrne be the first of them to come to this deserted place? He'd pushed through and found the building in the middle of the woods, as instructed. He stepped inside, and looked around. There didn't seem to be much to block him, and it would seem there was staff. Roland offered the letter he got from Providance and Grace before turning to the airlock. His clothes were fairly normal for a full human fighter. Having no ungodly defence or some such, he was forced to wear armors.

His was a modified version of the Stealth EvoBlack outfit, but modified to actually be worth something in a fight. Much like a skull suit, it would pressurize Roland's muscles and organs to make them work a little bit harder. After wearing this thing for so long, he stopped feeling it. It was more like his skin than anything, these days. He wasn't just wearing the Stealth Suit, though. He'd been wearing his lucky pants. If that makes any sense. They were Those 90's brand black pants, but he'd modified them so that he could use them as an extra bit of defensive.

As for his actual weapons, he had a set of two iron knucles, which appear to have had some work done to them, as his knuckles were now connected to a set of iron finger guards as well as thick gloves. It was hard to say, in this day an age, if knuckles could even serve as a weapon, but for Roland, they were like his cross and his bible. Also, though equally questionable is what appears to be a blanket. A blanket with a little white cloud on it. This was wrapped around his middle.

"Alright. Let's get this started off then."

And so it begins. One by one, spectators and competitors entered the building, one by one they stepped through the airlock and scanners. How the specators managed to reach the location while being inconspicuous was not known, but that was why they were here anyways, in secret.

One spectator is a white suit who had already gotten into the building after paying the entrance fee of fifty-thousand gold looked over the fight brackets and fighters, trying to determine who to bet on.

"I do say, there are quite a few new names to this list of fighters. Virtually unheard of." He muttered to another gentleman who came up to do the same. "Who would you say is going to win?"

"Hmm..." the other man put a hand to his chin as he looked over the roster, "I think I'm going to bet on one of the less known fighters. Sure, Kyonuske, Shouyin, Moonblade, and Lazenca may be big names from the Heaven or Hell tournament, but some of these newcomers may surprise us. Isnt that why they've been invited to this tournament anyways?"

The first man nodded before he made a bet, "I have a proposition for you. Why not we make a wager, on the known against the unknown? Say... One hundred thousand? I'm putting my money on Lazenca. Vicious fellow that one. I expect these rules to work in his favour."

"Deal. I'm putting my money on C. Fox." the second man said, shooting a bet out into the blue.

The first man seemed to be more cautious, placing a bet on someone he knows can perform. The second man however, seemed to be more of a risk taker, choosing a fighter who isnt very well known. Either way, both certainly had a lot of money in order to have gained entry and then place bets like this.

And guess what psycho made a ruckus. Mr. Crawley'd pass check-in with large table at his left side held with both hands. And his Fairbairn-Sykes knife that was in the shoulder holster on his left.

"IF YOU'RE IN MY WAY AND I BUMP INTO YOU I'LL KIIIILLL YOU!"

That should've been enough, along with tossing his invitation nonchalantly as he stood at the top level. Then he and the table would drop. Through the floors, stopping on the one floor for battle and then he began setting up his table behind him by pulling out the table legs and pulling the table over to sit upright.

Then he'd turn to Roland.

"Apparently... everyone here is so afraid of dying.. they brought armor..."

He folded his arms and put himself in range of his opponent.

"Wusses."

Crawley with his arms so folded and no skin showing looked at Roland then extended his left arm out somewhat slowly at his shoulder as if he was going to grab it. His body language adding to the notion that this was a threatening maneuver by leaning in slightly with his left side.

Roland steps his way to his right quickly to evade the grab, mostly because the notion of violence, and that he was likely to be the first opponent. "So, You Crawley?" His hands slid real quick into his gloves and he looked right at the man infront of him, his fists quickly tightening.