The Dead Forest (Increased Orc activity due to skirmish)

[Maximos]

Tomorrow

Maxi's body would now be almost completely turned to the right. His swing would've taken all his momentum to cut straight through John's body. Even the Nameless didn't have an edge that cut effortlessly, otherwise why bother swinging it so hard? In any case, he'd swung with all his might, his rather large blade swinging his body around from left to right, exposing his right shoulder and side.

Incorrect.

Maximos

His left arm extended out to his side holding a single black stone in between his finger tips. With a spark and a crack the stone was shattered as a 4ft long, 3inch wide long sword shot up from Maximos' shadow destroying the stone and taking a place in his hand.

Johnathan's entire plan fell apart due to his lack of perception. Perhaps when he placed his brain in overdrive it began to see and invent things? He had missed a single detail. The Reaper never grabbed the sword two handed, why would he limit himself to a single weapon when he could have two? The sword drifted out to his left side not down toward the ground, that was a Bushido stance and Maximos was not wielding a katana. He still had fresh blood coating his right arm, which meant he still had Tomorrow's strength on top of his own. The sword would simply break if he slashed it that hard.

Maximos

Once within range, Maximos slam his feet on the ground, swinging his black from left to right, aiming for a clean slash directly across Tomorrow's chest, the entirety of his charges force carrying into his blade.

Secondly, with all the force in the world it would take superhuman strength to even attempt to slice a man in two. Much less a heavily built man like Tomorrow. It made perfect sense for Thor to believe that was what the shadow was aiming to slice him in half, but the truth is. That was impossible. He could slice through a good layer of muscle and flesh, he could even remove a limb, but never through an entire body. Not with that arm.

Though there was absolutely no way for the Thunder God to know that.

The Reapers' slash was clean, but as his left was not packing an unnatural strength boost it only swung across his chest. Maximos left arm was diagonal across his chest, and the fist was not coming at his side. It was coming at his face. And really, only an idiot could miss a giant fist coming at his face.

Maximos's moves were as fluid as they were expedient. His right arm came up, and with a loud smack Tomorrow's fist was stopped cold. The black talons of Maximos' sickly gauntlet would aim to dig their full length into Thor's hand. Needless to say with their previous strength and Tomorrow's stacked on each other this should be an easy task. In the exact same motion, the Reaper brought his black blade back across his chest in the opposite direction and up, aiming to take the offending arm clean off. It had more than enough cut, Maximos had more than enough strength to slice it clean off despite its supernatural nature. If the light slash he had performed earlier was met with such deep success, this one surely would.

It was unlikely Tomorrow had the speed, even with an overdriven brain to place a hand in the path of the sword. And even if he did, he would just loose it. On the other hand...quite literally. Tomorrow would likely feel the exact sensation he gave others. As Maximos' arm was not giving and his arm was locked lest the handful of flesh the Shadow grabbed he torn free. Should Thor try and lift, the arm would counter with a crushing force back down. Should it try and push, the arm would counter with an overpowering push back. There was no hope of breaking the lock.

Hmm, something the god of destruction could not break...interesting.  

[Tomorrow]

Maximos' attack had it's flaws as well.

The sword would flash up, slicing John's hand off - leaving a clear target for John's other hand, which would be coming up to deliver another blow.

This one Maxi couldn't dodge. His right, the super-arm, was busy holding his left hand, whilst his other had to contend with an up-rising sword cleaving through flesh and bone. His chest would remain exposed for John's fist, aimed directly for the sternum, right in the center of the chest.

John put his shoulder into this one. If Maxi could walk straight directly after this, John deserved to be put down.

Even if Maximos managed to block, the sheer power of the blow would send him flying. Blocking with his weak arm would be like stopping a cannon ball with a 2X4 of timber, and blocking with the sword was out of the question. Maximos had gone to sever the hand - not slice, or cut. The flat of the blade would be pointed towards John's fist - as he smashed straight through it.

Either way, Maximos would go flying with one hand more then usual. John would use that time to quickly sear his bloody stump with electrical static, fusing the veins closed, melting the flesh around the bone, until it was nothing. This was done with his eyes square on Maxi, in case those rocket boots of his suddenly burst into life before he plunged into one of the many trees surrounding them.  

[Maximos]

Maximos' attack had no flaws.

With Tomorrow's arm free he had something on Thor, that no amount of skill could give the Thunder God...

...reach.

Thats correct. The severed arm did not vanish once it was severed, it was still in Maximos' very powerful, and extended hand. That meant that in order to reach the Reaper, Tomorrow had to lift up his other hand and reach all the way across to Maximos. Maximos...only had to lean forward. He was holding a weapon stronger than most bats or clubs...Tomorrow's severed arm.

And thats exactly what the Reaper did. He stomped forward the bend in his powerful right arm straightening, as he leaned in at the shoulder. Quite basically, he planned to shove the bloody stump dead into Thor's face with the force of taking a veritable sledgehammer to the face.

If Tomorrow could actually throw himself into a punch without his head going in the opposite direction of his body, that was a feat worth being struck to see.  

[Tomorrow]

((Okay, even though i'm pissed that you took John's arm, thats gotta be one of the best weapons in the Gaian universe at this moment in time. John Tomorrow's Severed Left Arm - Double-Handed Club. Strengths - is resistant to almost all damage. Has a nice flicking action. Weaknesses - thumb wars and arm wrestles.))

John regularly took trips through most carbon-based items. Wood. Concrete. Steel. Being built with a super-dense skin, the ability to feel no pain, and with a strong bone and muscle structure, allowed you the ability to do that.

And, whilst Maximos planned a lot of thing, sometimes things dont go to plan. When the arm came off, Maximos flicked it forward, coming into John's face - or, at least where it had been. For John had done one of the most basic things you could do when attacked - he ran away.

His arm severed, he wasn't kept to Maxi anymore - he needed time to heal the wound. As the arm came out, John stooped slightly, the arm swinging over his head - as he leapt backwards.

An explosion of dirt and mold filled the air as John took off, leaping straight through a tree to disappear into the brush and foliage. For a man his size, he certainly moved fast. John's primary long-distance travel was leaping, after all - he could cover a mile in no time.

The tree he smashed through would do the usual thing a tree would do when a large Tribal with one arm smashed his way through - it fell down, right onto Maximos. It would take time - something that big took time to fall - so he'd probably dodge or cut his way through, but in the end one thing was clear.

John Tomorrow was on the run.

((Major Edit))  

[Maximos]

((Yep! I'll be magically preserving it and using it as just that! You owe Hono some thanks old friend.))

Maximos did not toss the arm, he slammed it into the Thunder God's face.

And then Tomorrow ran.

He was correct about one thing, the Reaper. The Shadow of Death, never expected retreat from Thor. He slowly turned his head in the direction of the shattering trees.

That white right eye of his was not just a face trinket. Maximos' form was designed for this, for hunting, for killing, for Reaping. There was no place on Gaia left to run. No one escapes death.

And for a godling. They were cursed with a divine soul, and divine souls glow very brightly. He could see him as well as he could see the sun peeking through the trees. He could determine the length of time it would take for him to reach that glow, and by its intensity he could determine how far it would be by that time.

Tomorrow was gone...

His arm and face were covered in blood splatter from the severed limb. And the Shadow's face remained completely still, solid. Time, was on his side. He turned away, and began walking back to the stadium. Massive arm in toe.  

[Tomorrow]

John leapt far and true, his legs springing from tree trunk to tree trunk. every now and then his body would clear the canopy, his one-armed form flitting over the tree-tops like a stone skimming across the water - before falling back down again.

When he was sure he was alone he let himself go.

Falling straight down to the earth, Tomorrow rebounded off a tree or two, splinters and bark filling the air, before he landed on the ground with a boom, sliding across the moss-covered ground - to come to a rest at a rather large tree.

He was a mess. Scratches and bruising from all those trips through the trees, a large gash over his chest and a missing arm, his other hand clutching the bloody stump that used to be his shoulder. He lay limp, trying to catch his breath, trying to still his beating heart.

This was the first time in a long time that he had escaped from a foe.

He had mixed feelings.

Cowardise, his Tribal teachings screamed at him. You never run. You never quit. You fight or you die.

But flashes of his family kept boring through the voices...Amber with his two babies. He could not leave them in this world. not alone. Not without him.

And it was then that Maximos' words rang clear over his mind, his head becoming wiped of all thought with the exception of one...

...Maybe he has a point...

He raised his head up to look at the tree-tops, their leaves wafting in the breeze, the soft swish lulling him into sleep. Many a time he had fallen asleep in a positon like this - but not with a severed arm, which was beginning to bleed out.

He needed to find a doctor before falling asleep. Sleep meant death.

He had his wife and children to think about.

The mountain could wait.  

[Cristopher Reinhart]

Maximos

Tomorrow was gone...

His arm and face were covered in blood splatter from the severed limb. And the Shadow's face remained completely still, solid. Time, was on his side. He turned away....

And not 10 feet from the Reaper stood what he may call an old friend, someone here to collect and make good on a promise. They were robbed of it in HoH, the years, and time had set these two apart pushing them away further and further like opposing forces. Yet, there he stood, eye's bright with anticipation, eye's on the Reaper. With a small smirk he looked to the shadow's eyes and simply added....

"You didn't think it was over did you?"

More a reference to their last encounter than the Reaper's just finished fight. With the words the smoke like blood red energy flowed out of his left eye, that anticipation still present on his eyes.  

[Maximos]

Maximos had made a promise, swearing himself to passive ways. He had made a promise. A rule, a law unto himself. No fighting...no killing. But every rule and every law had an exception.

The severed arm in his hand leaking red vitae all over the forest floor was testament to how far the rules could be bent. But when it came to Cristopher Reinhart, the rules were entirely broken.

His white eye pierced through the shadow cast over his face by his blood matted and wet hair. The glow cut like a knife through a black curtain. A streak of red was visible down half his face, and across the black metal gauntlet which covered his right arm from shoulder to fingertips like a sickly ebony talon.

As if the gods themselves had turned their attention on the battle at hand, the sky was torn with a bolt of lightning. And the rain fell. The tears of gods. Maximos' voice was stern direct, though a smirk rose across his stained lips.

...its never over...

The arm struck the ground with a sickly wet thump, as the talon released its deathgrip on the severed length of flesh.  

[Cristopher Reinhart]

Words true to the last letter. Reinhart had no interest in what had just come to pass, the Thunder God running from the Reaper, his severed arm proof enough that Maximos was the deadliest of opponents.

"Nice arm."

A tilt of the head gestured to the bloody thing on the ground next to Maximos. Unlike his last fight this wasn't a hunt for Maximos, it wasn't a hunt for Reinhart either, this was something that started long ago. Before the Reaper's demise, his rebirth, and this transmutation that had turned him into something Reinhart may not recognize. To him however it was all the same, this thing in front of him was still Maximos.

"You owe me a fight old friend."

Would it be strange to have Reinhart talk to him as he'd never left? As he'd not changed? As it were only yesterday that they clashed fists? Everyone changes, Reinhart was no exception. With the rain pouring down on them, the sky roaring, and the forest deadly silent, nothing would stop them this time. Not again.  

[Maximos]

Maximos' smirk grew just a bit, it was a nice arm. A nice trophy. A nice prize, as it were. And he had plans for that junk of flesh, no matter how morbid that may sound.

It was him. Reinhart. He could never understand what drew these two to fight exactly. Only that the meaning of the fight was beyond its own birth. And it was finally time.

No promise can hold a candle to destiny.

His right arm twitched. Metal plated fingers clinking together as the the rain fall washed the blood from the Reapers face. His blue hair was blue hair was flatted against his face, soaking into his black shirt, and blue bloodstained pinstripe vest. A veritable pool if red poured from the severed limb, gathering around the Shadow's feet.

I asked you to show me your true strength...

Maximos's left foot lifted up striking the ground back and beside him, while his left arm shot behind his back. As his body whipped into position drops of rain could be seen flicking off his wet clothes.

...show me.

He did not shout but his voice echoed in the ambient shadows over a good 20ft radius. He was in fighting stance. He was ready to go. The first attack went to Reinhart.  

[Cristopher Reinhart]

With those words the anticipation grew even stronger and the smirk became a full on smile. A smile he wore just before he stepped into the fight, into danger, into the first blow. No longer oozing energy he watched the Reaper's stance, it was time to go, not time to go back. Forget reminiscing, forget the formalities, forget everything else but the 'man' in front of you. In this case it was the man who wanted to see his strength...

"Show you? Tch, you won't be dissapointed..."

And he winked just before throwing his right foot back turning in place giving Maximos his side. Arms loose at, hands open, the stance itself relaxed as if he were waiting for Maximos to strike. Of course he wasn't however, Maximos gave him the gift of throwing the first punch and as he said....he wasn't here to dissapoint. A roar of thunder, a spark of lighting, and the bolt that tore the sky signaled the start of the fight.

Reacting to the bolt as if it were a bell Reinhart shot forward, ten feet wasn't a distance to cover so half way through it he leapt into the air. Right leg leading he brought his left foot around to strike at Maximo's head then following through with the momentum he'd spin thrusting his right foot backwards and into the Reaper's chest.

Hit or miss this was it, no time for regrets, no room for mistakes. Thier paths had finally crossed once.  

[Vahn Fah]

[What I've done - Linkin' Park]

((Actually, your entirely right, and thats my fault. Flame can still work or whatever you want, just a draining effect should eventually be noticeable, 'cause thats what Sun does to Vahn; 'eats his power'.))

He caught himself, left foot sliding back a bit after performing the throw, and left hand clamping over his left eye. It was threatening to open, and he couldn't have that.

Something was actually trying to subtly make use of the 'power' contained within....which meant that Sunstrike was trying to make use of it.

"Because you're an old man..."
He lifted his head a bit,hearing the words ring through the forest.

His right eye widened a bit, even as he felt his left hand shaking.

Old.

How long had it been. How many centuries had past... how many battles had he fought for some reason or another? Shedding blood and taking it just as well.

Memories of a mispent youth, and an even more chaotic life, under sword and sweat stained sheets in the bedroom.

He could still see it.... that man he used to be... even as those words that Tzenidaar had spoken to him bit deep.

Tears of the Flame God...

And just as memories of all those lonely,bloody years came in...so too did the images of all the people he had come to know.

Of those he cared about.

Of those he loved.

The reasons for why he fought.

Is this what I've been looking for...

His left fist clenched, even as a sharp breath was taken.

All this ******** time I've been going in circles, when its been staring me right in the face!?

"We, the young, the future, know nothing. Why we live. Why we fight. Everything now, is but an illusion. There is only the need to attain strength. Because the realization of the truth of why we do it will only come then, when it strikes into the heart of those who are willing to see it. Willing to confront it."

"You have no idea....."

His head had been lowered, listening to Tzenidaar speak even as both men used the recovery time for what it was worth.

And then the youth came charging in headstrong as Vahn stood his ground.

The hammering blow came down like thunder, and Vahn's body bowed forward with the movement, a sickening crack echoing out. Blood flowed freely even as both eyes were wide open.

The people I fight for. That's why I'm strong.

"..W-...what being strong is all about..."

Vahn's right arm had been pulled back, each finger spread out even as the Hand had formed around him. The air itself was seen wavering and folding in on itself on each individual spread finger, as if something were being pulled into a tight space. The veins on his right arm stood out, as well as along his neck, as if the strain were being placed on his whole body.

It was the same manner as the One Inch Heat, but more finely tuned and concentrated-- or rather, specific.

Which was true, because with the awakening of the Salamander's eye, it was harder to make use of his own ability.

After the staggering blow had been delivered, Vahn's left hand would have gone out and grabbed hold of Tzenidaar's right shoulder, needing a clear target to strike and not willing to risk missing.

"Because your alone in this world...."

And his right arm would piston forward, fist formed as he aimed for a sharp kidney blow.

The air itself parted before the fist, as if making way for something terrible, as if the air itself were frightened, which meant there was no wind resistance at all and the strike was coming in undoubtedly fast.

"...and the next!!"

His mouth was thrown open, even as he plunged in with the blow, releasing upon contact or not, the stored 'force' in each fingertip, which was roughly the equivalent of being struck with 5 of Vahn's 'Burning Straights' all at once.

This explosive release would either be able to tear right through Tzenidaar in a gruesome manner, or simply blow him away, Vahn's right arm only being held together by the Hand itself at this point, as held on with all his heart, being supported by all those he cared about, as if they were really there.  

[Maximos]

His fist balled tight letting out the audible sound of metal grinding against metal as his fingers slid against each other.

He could see it. It waifed off the man, that fighting spirit. It raged around him, like the burning fire within him. There was no question in Cris' attack. No doubt, he came with all he had. And Maximos would respond in like kind. Anything else would be an insult.

Reinhart took to the air, his feet aligned his body prepared. Maximos sprung into motion. His weight shoved onto the ball of his left foot. His right arm cocked back, preparing for an attack. He could feel his muscles pulsed with the rush of unnatural power, that very rush intertwined with the constant stabbing of metal bone scraping against itself tearing through his soft joint tissue. There was a reason the arm was "cursed".

Cris, kicked. Maximos punched. The two blows met in mid air, Maximos' fist aimed to grind directly into the ball of his friends foot shoving him back and out of the range of his succeeding kick. The Shadows feet dug deep into the wet bloody ground absorbing the powerful impact. Rain flew off of both forms, thunder striking to mark what would be the first connecting blow.  

[Kraun]

Following the smashing downward strike, his other hand would plant itself against the ground to find purchase and balance his body as his legs would swing around, the force of the blow not entirely diminished as Vahn would stagger back from it rather than block it completely and halt momentum. As such, as he began to topple over from the handstand, his legs would seperate as he balanced himself on his most forward hand, tilting his body so that his legs would swing around underneath him.

And just like a breakdancer, Tzenidaar's body turned and righted itself as he swung around, supported by his arms, weight shifting from one arm to the other as his legs circled underneath him. And as they came back to his front, he jerked his body back hard before pushing off the ground, his upper back striking dirt as both legs came together, hips twisting, focussing the torqueing motion of the turn, concentrating the spiral motion into the body, as he pushed off the ground and blasted straight upwards into Vahn, both feet driving forward, body spinning like a corkscrew; striking with a DRILL FANG.

((For storyline purposes and ending the fight, I'll just go with something else, though that would have been my initial post.))


As the strike connected, the chimera planted his other hand onto the ground to balance himself as he finished the flip, landing on his feet in an awkward crouch as he pushed his upper body back to the top and upright.

The resonation between the artificial's blood was strongest when directly faced against the source, and as such, while Vahn's arm pulled back, Tzenidaar's body erupted in chaotic black flames, the blood covering his body reacting to the source, mimicing it.

In a crouched position, the body may drive forward easily, the legs being already bent, not needing further time to position onself into the action. So quite simply, Tzenidaar charged forward, legs straightening as he propelled his body forward. His actions reflected the fierce temper and chaotic aggression of fire; he didnt defend, he didnt wait passively, he was always on the offensive. Right fist clenched, pulled back to the right side of his body as his left flew out to grab the man, similarily seeking a target.

Vahn took hold of Tzenidaar's right shoulder, Tzenidaar took hold of Vahn's collar. Both men threw their right arms forward.

A beast's roar through a black inferno, Tzenidaar's arm flew forward, striking at Vahn's face, the movement of the attack dislodging Vahn's grip on his shoulder. But even then, it didnt matter if they were going to grab each other to find a target or not, as both men didnt give any ground.

Now, the result of the thrown fist didnt matter much, because there was something more important. Technique.

Vahn's One Inch Heat was being applied to Tzenidaar, though on a much higher scale, it was essentially the same thing, the application. Quite simply, this was why Tzenidaar was here, why Tzenidaar was even fighting the man.

Vahn's right hand slammed into the chimera's body even as he learned - stole - the move, his blood's resonation allowing him to read, or rather sense, the transfer of energy through the man's body, the way it was focussed into a point and release it all at once.

So what would happen to him? Would he have a giant hole through the body? Would he be blasted through the forest at incredible speeds?

It would be a little of both. Almost a natural subconscious preservation of oneself. As an explosive force was released into his body, the black flames coating it in patchy spots moved to the point of contact from the host speciment, as if drawn to it. It pushed back. Maybe Vahn would even recognize it. Another of those olden day techniques he once employed.

Armor of Heat (Atsusa no Yoroi)

This is Vahn's most seldomly used and last line of defenses. It is used rarely mainly because the shield of flames is penetrated only in few instances. The armor of heat is there only as a last second defense, but it has its reasons. The air surrounding him will rapidly superheat, causing it to expand quickly, which would result in a concussive wave of air blowing both attacker and user back, in opposing directions. The Armor of Heat is in essence, an explosion- but without the desctruction of a normal bomb. However, as told before, this technique is seldomly used, and even if it is used, it will most likely completely demolish the attack, causing absolutely no damage to Vahn.

The only difference here is that Tzenidaar didnt do it because he knew the technique; it was all the work of the black flames that were creeping over his body at that moment. A subconscious, ingrained memory.

And so, the chimera would be thrown back from his own defense, yet at the same time, blasted by Vahn's attack, sending him shooting backwards a hundred feet through the forest as his side spit open, almost like a brushing attack which took a chunk off the side rather than a hole through the body.

He struck a tree with a wet smack as his body crumbled down into a sitting position, his head hung over between limp arms and spaghetti legs.

In the end, all Tzenidaar did was laugh. Or more appropriately, a gurgling chuckle before he spat some blood out.

What was so funny? Who knows?  

[Vahn Fah]

The Forest was allowed silence.

At the price of blood.

What could have passed for several hours went by, the echoing explosion long since settled, and neither fighter apparently being seen to pursue the other.

No clear victor was apparent, even for anyone watching.

A blackened squirrel ran its course along the wood fettered ground, investigating its new surroundings as well as to see what exactly decided it could demolish it's entire home.

And entertainment center.

Well, future one anyway.

Laying still among splintered bark and ashen wood, was a lone figure, a splatter of blood decorating the floor and trees nearby. A faint haze of smoke could be seen roiling ever upwards from the body, as if it radiated heat constantly. Eyes stared skyward, in a blank, lost state... as if trying to discern the time of day.

The exact position of the moon.

What quarter of the month it was.

Or whether it was alive or dead.

Sweat stained locks of hair plastered to the side of his face, even as the squirrel stared on curiously, before deciding it wanted to move to more tropical locations after all.

The Dead Forest was much too dead for its taste anyway.