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 Posted: Mon Sep 28, 2009 11:12 am
Description: Do you see the picture above? That's right, it's the picture perfect image of where each match will be taking place, right smack down in the center of a zen garden. For those who don't know, let wikipedia give its description of one: Quote: The Japanese rock gardens (枯山水, karesansui?) or "dry landscape" gardens, often called "Zen gardens" were influenced mainly by Zen Buddhism and can be found at Zen temples of meditation. Japanese gardens are a living work of art in which the plants and trees are ever changing with the seasons. As they grow and mature, they are constantly sculpted to maintain and enhance the overall experience; hence, a Japanese garden is never the same and never really finished. The underlying structure of a Japanese garden is determined by the architecture; that is, the framework of enduring elements such as buildings, verandas and terraces, paths, tsukiyama (artificial hills), and stone compositions. Over time, it is only as good as the careful maintenance that it receives by those skilled in the art of training and pruning. Part of the art is to keep the garden almost static, like a painting. If you're wondering what the other side look like, it's this picture, without the guy obviously: Pebbled ground, a few rocks and bark sticking out, and a dab of green vegetation, this terrain is the perfect essence of aesthetic beauty. Now it's up to the fighters to make use of this beauty by bringing their own performing arts, aka THE FIGHTING. This time around, it's going to be somewhat like last round, in that you will have spectators watching very closely since the size of the ring is going to be small. However, the volume will be a lot less due to the peaceful atmosphere and the more casual visitors (as only the wealthy can afford to watch at such a place and lucky tourists). This does not mean you won't get any of the usual cheers or boos. Think Tennis mixed with the roar of boxing in terms of the crowd. It'll be quiet one minute then get loud the next. Field Measurements: The field is rectangular instead of the usual circular shape, so the size in feet is: 35 by 60. Though spacey, any one trying to run away won't be able to run for long. The walls surrounding the garden are fifteen feet high, with the audience surrounding the entire arena from a higher elevation. Ten Count Boundary: Going outside the garden, mainly getting into the spectator stands or even standing on the top of the wall will begin the ten count. As usual, the flying rule is in effect as well.
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Posted: Wed Sep 30, 2009 9:07 pm
Deitric stood outside the shrine, the warrior's stony gaze poring over the details of the building from beneath the brim of a black cowboy hat. The occasional spectator - those who could afford the entry fee into the shrine - filtered past him, but the no one seemed to recognize him.
A length of opaque, silver fur was draped around the man's shoulders like a mix between a cape and a cloak, held together by a cord across his front with five silver discs attached, each one sporting a splay of eagle feathers. Combined with the wide-brimmed hat tipped low, those few who passed him by had a hard time getting a glimpse that would have allowed proper recognition.
Why can't we ever fight in the actual coliseum.., the brave mused silently. While Deitric enjoyed traveling, the constant change in scenery did little to impress him or incite the warrior to combat. He idly flexed his fingers, each in turn. Truth be told, his previous opponent had done little damage to the brave, physically - Deitric walked away bruised and with a pair of burnt hands, but physically exhausted from the forced shunting of his metaphysical abilities and excessive use in such a short span of time.
What Damon had done was manage to shut out Deitric's attempts at an offensive, and the psychic had done so consistently - something no one had done, at least not so successfully. That was something that irked the tribesman; a potential hole in his fighting ability that he wasn't quite sure how to fill. Not yet, anyways.
After a moment of contemplation, the champion reached up to pull down the brim of his hat, stepping into the shrine proper. He weaved slowly through the small crowd, patting spectators on the shoulder and offering quiet apologies as he passed by, unrecognized by those around him as if he were another face in the crowd.
Breaking from the mass of people, Deitric reached up to pull off his hat, setting it down atop a shrub just outside of the fighting area. Voices called out in cheers as his identity was revealed, but the tribesman simply continued on. Unclasping the brooch-cord of his overcloak, he quietly folded it and set it atop the shrub beside his hat before stepping into the Zen garden, looking around curiously. It was definitely smaller than usual.
With no opponent immediately in sight, the man took a seat on a rock, with his elbows resting on his knees while he waited.
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Posted: Fri Oct 02, 2009 12:44 pm
The dragon snarled his disapproval to the man that had been his guide to the arena. "Really? A ******** rock garden? What does this Midus Sonners hope to approve? Piss us off with his choice of petty scenery?" With that, the dragon spit upon the ground just outside of the rocky battleground. A moment later, he stepped into the "Zen Garden" to discover that his opponent, the former champion Deitric Jocasta, was already waiting. The second round of this tournament, Vince had stepped across from him, and then, he'd left. Things had called him away, and had effectively given him his first lost, but it was the only loss he'd suffered; now, he was here to prove himself to this champion, and to all of the people standing around watching.
The dragon chuckled as he stepped up across from Deitric's rock, standing approximately ten feet away. His massive sword was strapped upon his back, his black gauntlets were fitted tightly around his fists, and his leg-guards were strapped tight against the muscular mass of his legs. Other than that, the massive man was dressed in a tank-top, a pair of black-jeans, and his hair hung loosely over his face, a few strands of hair dangling partially over his sandy-brown eyes. He looked to Deitric and made a motion in which his left hand was flipped over and he pulled his open palm towards the sky, motioning the champion to rise.
The man's right hand moved up and over his shoulder, his arm muscles rippling as he gripped the giant sword and heaved it up and over his shoulder. The sword was place in its regular position, the tip of it angled downwards and touching the ground a few feet in front of him, and resting lightly upon the ground. The dragon was ready, as he always was. Ready to get up close and personal with a man that he knew was the same way.
Vince suspected it would be more of a drag-out beat up fight than a hide and spam magic typed thing; something he'd heard that Deitric's last fight had involved against Damon. With one final thought in his mind, he let out a laugh, and the crowd simply stared, some of them open-mouthed, at the massive man's downright disrespect.
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Posted: Fri Oct 02, 2009 2:12 pm
The brave appeared unfazed by his opponent's appearance in the garden, idly running a hand over the top of his scalp, brushing away a few loose strands of black. Vince was a large man, but Deitric had seen and stepped up against larger opponents before. His eyebrows seemed to twitch almost imperceptibly, as if he could sense that his opponent was inhuman by some unknown means.
With the same stoicism that seemed to guard the tribesman's every move and thought, the man stood up from his seat. Vince did stand taller than the champion by more than half a foot, but the apparent size difference was deceiving. Deitric weighed in anywhere between two-forty and two-fifty on a good day, and he only looked to be around 220. Like one of the big hunting cats, the warrior wore his weight well - while others were physically larger, he maintained an extremely dense musculature; built for raw, explosive power and movement.
Unfortunately for most opponents, they could only take his weight and size at face value until they began to throw fists, where his true strength became much more apparent. Where Vince carried an extremely large sword to fit the typical image of a larger fighter, Deitric had smaller weapons; tomahawks and the like at his disposal. Despite this, he didn't take hold of any weapon, opting to keep open handed for the time being.
The dark-skinned man's arms were held open, palms out as if to prove he held nothing in his hands.
"If you're ready," Deitric offered quietly, his tone and demeanor belying the growing storm inside the warrior.
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