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 Posted: Mon Oct 26, 2009 8:10 am
Description: Due to enjoying the lifestyle and entertainment of the Japanese culture, Midus has decided to stay there for a little while longer. Unfortunately, a winter blizzard has just suddenly hit the place, funny since it was not even winter just yet. Still, the snow and flurries was a startle, causing a lot of people to take off work to avoid the heavy snowfall. And then the head got an idea. He was going to let the fighters be challenged by yet another part of nature, and has decided that they fight right in the middle of a cold wonderland. Choosing a countryside temple as the base of operations, each fight will take place on its own separate field. Though the snow has gone and the skies have cleared, snow still blankets the ground rather thickly over grass and stone lying underneath the uneven earth. In addition, the air is frigidly cold, so all fighters are encouraged to wear some warmer clothing this round. Fortunately, only a few temple workshippers, namely monks and priest, are watching the fights, if any. How they are accepting this type of fighting against their beliefs is for anyone to guess. Only cameras give far away spectators the chance to watch the fights. Special Rules: You are allowed to have your character bring in warmer clothing for this round only, including other things to keep them warm, such as hot chocolate or something of the sort. But nothing too extravagant like a heater. Field Measurements: Each fight takes place in a marked twenty-five yard radius. That's 1/4 the size of a football field and thus, 75 feet in length. It will take an average sprinter 3 seconds to cross this distance, just to give you a relation to how small this is. Red poles mark the boundaries of this circular ring to give the fighters a visual indication of how far they can go. Ten Count Boundary: Going outside the ring or staying in the air for more than ten seconds due to flying will naturally start the ten count. Injuring any spectators counts as a DQ.
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Posted: Tue Oct 27, 2009 7:55 am
At one side of the red poled boundary line, same as always - was Round VI contender [Omi Barsait. Trademark dark oots ground into the snow as they were designed to do, he remarkably took very little advantage of the regulation allowing the fighters to wear more clothing. A single thin sheet of dark cloth was wrapped around his mid-arms each, and a dark wool scarf around his neck. Nothing else. An indication of what little effect this did could be grasped by the man's teeth, bared viciously as they clattered in increasing speed and irritation.
"Better I stay alert and mobile than comforted and plush; the cold will keep me alert long before frostbite gnaws at me." This was the mindset behind such a decision, with the added conditional that given Omi was rather famed for his "art," additional heat would no doubt manifest itself in the fight. That much was for certain.
Forcing his arms to stretch out in something of a scarecrow's posture, the dark-clad fighter's left-gauntlet blade and right-gauntlet tiplets were tilting towards the opposite end of the "arena" with growing menace. "I can feel it.. I've never failed, not once, to make it into the later half of a competition such as this. Yet not once have I ever failed right at the very end, to.. fall.. short."Finals II " You'll cripple yourself at this rate-- if you stop now, you can still get your leg healed," Deitric spoke calmly through his guard, his hawkish, gleaming eyes staring down the man in his sights. Semi-Finals I If Omi didn't let Mooo land in the astride position he'd placed his feet for, whether through a sweep or other means, Mooo's dead-weight body would frogsplash atop his upon landing, which wouldn't be all that comfortable.
The very thought this could occur yet again, for a third time..
.. was completely and utterly an uninteresting prospect. Suddenly shaking the frustration out of his mind right along with the seizing, incorporeal cold that trumped even the frost abound- Omi began walking forward calmly, arms stretched out to their palms in either direction respectively. A wide grin spread across his face proper.
"Then again, I 'spose besting Snow and then losing would be terrible distasteful. I hear this fellow's a swordsman of some sort.." Cracking that grin into a full-blown, chaotic cackle that allowed the shrill winds to carry it on, Barsait howled as his feet suddenly began trudging through the snow like a berserk soldier impatient with the very earth itself:
"FUTILE!"
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Posted: Tue Oct 27, 2009 6:02 pm
Walking in a Winter Wonderland...
The chuckle of a youth and the smile of a friend, Link would lean down and run his sword-calloused fingers through the snow at his feet before scooping up a decent handful, oblivious to the malice and not the approach of one Omi Barsait. Too focused was the Hero of Time on the days long since passed that he cared not for the intentionally lethal battle at hand; but rather preferred to simply take a moment or two to reflect on a childhood that he sometimes wished he could have lived more fully. It had been many years since Link was a true child, and his memories were vague about that time period, yet one fragment stood out. He was young, maybe six or seven, when the hollow of Kokiri Village had been flooded by snow. As a child, he didn't need an invitation to go out and play, yet in hindsight he wish he got one. The Boy without a Fairy was an outcast, and none cared to play with him save Saria. It didn't hinder his fun though.
Again, in hindsight, she wasn't a child. None of the children in the village were young. For him, now, he understood very well why he was so different. As a child though, it was frustrating, and he wouldn't have made it without his best-friend. He played with Saria until they had their fill of cold and fun, basked in the glow of firelight to get warm, and made snowmen complete with tunics in the fashion of their village. Good times, through and through, and this fresh batched as snow served as a great means of reliving those joyous moments.
"FUTILE!"
Rising up to his full stature, apparently standing directly infront of Omi Barsait, Link would raise his hand and cup it with his other before rolling his left shoulder back and tossing a snowball at the man's face. An innocent gesture to be sure, Link had yet to unsheathe either the Master Sword or Hylian Shield from his back. Should the snowball hit the man, Link would giggle before composing himself. If not, well..he'd be crushed(emotionally).
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Posted: Wed Oct 28, 2009 8:56 am
The ball of frost had little distance to traverse. Omi, so gung-ho to crush his opponent, was suddenly watching a snowball wind through the air towards his face- and while outside of these circumstances, perhaps that would have been acceptable.. here in the hallowed ring, there was no telling just what might have been 'altered.' From Heaven to Hell, that ball of snow might have been switched right before release from the youth's hand, or perhaps charged with some arcane element- benefit of the doubt was stagnant & dead in this ring long before Barsait ever stepped foot in it, regardless of whom it concerned.
"Hah!" Rather than let it stop his momentum, Barsait merely bent on over while dashing forward with his full body weight on constant forward shift, letting the ball of soft ice skim over his wild hair and unto the grounds behind. Perhaps it was an innocent gesture, judging by the opponent's demeanor.. then again, that was exactly the kind of thinking Omi knew he had to throw into the wind and let float away.
There in front of him was an opponent whom had made it to Round VI, meaning he had bested give or take five fighters in a tourney full of those with gold in their eyes and fingertips wet for blood - and this of course meant Barsait couldn't relent a slight bit. If anything, he would need to be even more fierce than the norm to compensate for his instinctive urge to not attack one with seemingly no open hostility; the second he would fall prey to such thinking is the one he would float away from the tourney once again, yet again labeled as one whom got close to the sun but inevitably crashed unto the sea.
Teeth barred and arms stretched outward as the left fingers made warm-up finger stretches, he was nearing the youth quickly as per the limited distance in this battleground. He couldn't spot the shield, but certainly could spot the handle of the opponent's blade, and it was his intention to make drawing that blade an action that necessitated utmost haste-
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Posted: Wed Oct 28, 2009 10:37 pm
In retrospect, throwing a snowball might have not been the most brilliant of tactics. From a calm trudge through the snow to a full-blown dash that threatened to destroy the remainder of distance between them, it would seem that Link had provoked a malicious reaction from Omi Barsait with his innocent gesture and brought war upon himself. Omi, by Link's offhanded and natural observations, was quite different from the other creatures and Gaians he had faced in the Gaian Tenkaichi Budoukai in this regard. From Leinhart all the way to Tenkai, Link had never felt such a drive to succeed in a competitor before. All he had fought had drives; but this one felt bitter. In the pit that was now forming in the Hero of Time's gut, he could feel the darkness of Omi's ambition emanating from the Serpentine Manipulator. From where it originated from, Link could not discern, yet it was there and it was prominent. This man craved victory and would settle for nothing less.
Unfortunately, the Hylian Knight could and would only oblige with a test of mettle and skill, for under no circumstances or false-pretenses could he forfeit the match to this man with the darkened ambition. Like Pip before him, Link would sacrifice Omi's well-being for the greater good of Gaia and the lands she connected to. Shifting his booted feet shoulder width apart, The Hero of Time would slide his left foot back while simultaneously reaching his left arm up-and-over the side of his head to grab the wire-wrapped hilt of the Master Sword. Leading foot pointing towards Omi, rear foot jutting out 90 degrees out, Link would rest a good deal of his weight on that rear foot in preparation for a quick retreat while watching and waiting for Omi's opening move or tactics. Far from over-zealous, he would wait for an opening to present itself.
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Posted: Thu Oct 29, 2009 1:12 am
In Barsait, a lone candle illuminated the darkness- and the flame was growing into something quite monstrous. Whether that was morally correct or not, was better left to the spectators - id est, those the dark clad fighter howling on ahead had absolutely no interest in the opinions of. However, one particular murmur emanating from his last match had opened his ears in great irritation. Claims that he was careless in his battle against the ice fiend Snow.
It was an understandable claim, even the [Serpentine Manipulation Artist] had to acknowledge it. Were the medical treatment at such competitions not stocked with either the finest, the most bizarre, or both staff that money can buy - he knew in his heart that right limb of his would be no more. However, the notion he was careless still rang in his head like a symphony of misinformed drivel; he won, did he not? Those fighters whom desired just the money couldn't understand. Those onlookers licking their pen tips and counting their coins couldn't comprehend, not in the slightest!
The world around you stops existing once you're truly immersed in this ring.
"Non-lethal" was just a misnomer to lull the duller fighters into a false sense of security. Here, you either won, or you lost. Omi knew better than anyone, he felt, that while he had no qualms about losing to a worthy opponent, the sting in his very soul from losing to said opponent over careless mistakes weighs heavy on the mind and body. So then for the amorphous crowds to babble about him performing such careless deeds in that last epic clash against his rigid rival was..
.. absurd! "Absolutely ABSURD! Once in this ring, fighters who won't give it their all have only good fortune to pray for. Snow was a worthy opponent, I had no problem giving an arm to bring him down and likewise," such as his racing thoughts would come to a close with their distance becoming null. The dark-clad young man would suddenly swing his left arm fiercely in a horizontal slash, the [Ignus Pata] blade on his left gauntlet singing through the air with the right edge coming towards the youth from said boy's perspective's right. Mid-blade length, a standard attack albeit with all of Barsait's heart-pumping strength as his tread boots ground into the frost and soil below with sick crackles.
It was a simple maneuver. An expected one, even. Yet, as the crimson blade sang towards home and no doubt resistance.. something else veered to Omi's left most wildly. Namely: his other, right arm. Demonstrating the doctors' handiwork in action, it gently let the left arm's momentum carry it along, bent so the right hand was palm-first facing Link along the left arm's mid-section.
All five fingers were wiggling like they were separate entities, alive and wriggling in delight. [ Berserker] All five fingertips glowing a faint yet ever so distinct red, seemingly flickering to life.
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Posted: Thu Oct 29, 2009 7:38 pm
With the scabbard of the Master Sword held in place by leather straps fastened across his chest, Link would comfortably draw his hand-and-a-half sword from it's womb, eyes of the clearest blue watching Omi's obvious attack with grim determination. The Ignus Pata, by Link's intuitive albeit brief observation, was a flawed weapon by a swordsman's standards. As far as the Knight could tell, Omi's blade was grafted to his gauntlet, and not wielded by the hand.
What did this mean? Well, to be basic and blunt, swordsmanship in the most inept of practices relied heavily on the pivots of a wrist. While listing the purposes of employing the wrist in swordsmanship would be redundant, it would suffice to say that by wielding the Ignus Pata, Omi showed himself off to be clumsy, lazy and careless. These traits would bleed over into his opening move, which was embarrassingly obvious to Link's perceptions. Omi had power in the weapon, Link knew that well; but it lacked the finesse and grace of what Link could employ with the Master Sword.
Sliding his right foot back and continuing with the motion of unsheathing the Blade of Evil's Bane, Link would raise his right hand up to grab the last few inches of the hilt and with both hands, swing the sword in a counter-clockwise maneuver, bringing blued steel up from below the Ignus Pata. With a resounding clang and subsequent grinding gnash of metal-on-metal, Link would effectively stop the approach of Omi's weapon and parry it away from his person before pulling the hilt back and into a high guard. With both hands by the right side of his face, Link would steady and angle the tip of his hand-and-a-half sword at Omi's throat before thrusting forward.
All in a single fluid gesture of skill and deft usage of pivoting wrists. There was excruciatingly little distance between them; Link's sword was almost thrice the length of the Ignus Pata; Omi was barreling into the Hero of Time. Things looked rather grim for The Serpentine Manipulator; but where there was a will, there was a way. Omi could always duck his head and do a barrel roll to save himself.
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Posted: Thu Oct 29, 2009 10:24 pm
Omi Barsait wasn't much expectant of folks to remember his name nor recognize him in reverence. He had a mild following, likely due to his fanatical nature mid-combat at times if not for the fact he was a regular in some circles of combat. Perhaps he had even earned a few folks here and there's respect, fortune permitting - but certainly, he had earned no such title as being a "hero."
Nor would he ever enjoy such a pompous and useless title.
Barsait was at one time a budding swordsman, but nothing more - and long ago threw away such a premise. Perhaps his opponent was a swordsman of exceptional skill, regardless of their likely misleading youthfulness. But truth be told, the [Serpentine Manipulation Artist] was hardly even the slightest bit interested in making this a mere sword clash; were someone so inclined to think then, that Omi fancied himself a swordsman, they would be a fool. The [Ignus Pata] was an edge. Another component to help achieve victory, nothing more. Those who put so much faith in their swords and their shields, toting themselves as heroes and demonstrating how virtuous they felt they were by action or word..
They were usually asking for a fierce beating.
Again, Barsait was no swordsman and nor did he claim to be, but the Pata was actually his ideal weapon. A simple gesture of his hand could turn the blade faster than a conventional swordsman could twist their blade about whether they'd care to admit it or non, and it allowed him a lethal edge on that hand while still keeping it relatively free for his own purposes- not to mention, it let him reinforce the blade with his forearm. Yet.. that really wasn't too important, now.
The important thing was, this "Link" reminded Omi of himself some time ago. Too naive. Walks down an alleyway and sees a man, pulls out a knife, and assumes the opponent won't slip out of a gun. More so in Barsait's case, he simply loved a good boxing match in these tourneys - so much so, he would simply forget the fact his opponent could grapple him, lift him, kick him - because when in a brawl, he felt more comfortable throwing them fists. Likewise, perhaps this Link was a renowned swordsman of tremendous skills..
..but this wasn't the [Gaian Fencing League.]
That left horizontal slash was bland. Obvious. Even for an initial attack, it was telephoned to the extent a blind man could as easily hear it coming. Link ate the bait amply, dealing with the blatant threat while ignoring the more subtle. Going for the projected "win" move was respectable; were it so easy to do, wouldn't we all?
Regretfully, it simply wasn't.
As the [Ignus Pata] was parried to Omi's left, the right hand parted from the left arm most quickly - palm still facing the blond enemy's position. More importantly however, the earlier mentioned square positioning of Barsait's gave him one simple advantage those so preoccupied with "combat stances" forget to acknowledge: it let him turn one way or another most easily.
Letting the momentum of the left arm be the signal, Omi would follow it by shifting his left leg backwards, right forward - from his perspective, counter-clockwise. If Omi's left horizontal slash was evident, raising a sword of that magnitude above, the attempted thrust towards the dark fighter's throat was seen for eons to come; those dark leather boots of the long-haired serpent fighter's grinding him to a halt as Link's ample sword screamed on by.
Of course, if you thought with a whiff of such proportions that Omi Barsait the overly toted "opportunity" would simply just let Link withdraw his weapon or create distance.. [ Pound for Pound]
With a grin like a monster's, Omi's left fist would quite simply turn so the palm was facing the sky- before coming right on back towards ol' Omi, the mesh-covered left limb securing both of dear Link's limbs whom were so preoccupied thrusting that blade. With as much force as he could give it, stocky legs that were amply more well grounded than Link's mere pants already well slid past the point of simply being kicked out from under him given they were right against each other- the one-two came like lighting.
Were someone so very foolish as to ridicule the [Ignus Pata], they would find now a bitter moment as Omi's left arm, clenching the two outstretched upper limbs of Link's with all their furor as the metal ground into his limbs angrily, did something most unfortunately. The left clenched fist would simply bend to the right, the upper-wrist doing the same..
..and so too would the blade crash. The advantage of a Pata was that again, it could be employed in more restricting circumstances. Perhaps Link would discover this, as the double-edged crimson blade would have one edge flicking right into his unguarded face - presumably towards Link's right eye. You didn't need to exert much reinforcement to get results like that, one would have to note.
That right hand meanwhile, now had ample room on the other side to grasp the back of Link's fluffy head. And out of the earlier glowing fingertips, began to fester an initial three crimson, ghastly snakes- oozing right on down over poor Link's forehead with no possible obstruction, Omi happily giving a loud chomp as his teeth crashed to signal their ignition into flames that intended to bore themselves right into the swordsman's eyes & surrounding tissue.
Finesse wasn't just how you swung a sword. Finesse was skillful handling of a situation; people who honed themselves in an extension of their being and not the being itself..
..found themselves so deep in the snake's stomach, time nor space mattered!
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Posted: Fri Oct 30, 2009 12:37 am
If Link had any intention of withdrawing his weapon or creating distance. Bravery was this Hero's mark, and he would not be dissuaded from battle simply because his opponent dodged in a fashion reminiscent of any other would-be competitor. For every action, there was an equal and opposite reaction. Omi moved out the hurt-zone, was just a wee bit outside of Link's left flank, and the Hero would react appropriately.
Knowing it to be folly to commit to stopping his thrust and pulling back upon his weapon, the Knight would instead follow through while twisting his torso to the left and simultaneously stepping forward with his right foot. Motion by motion, step by step, as Link would do these actions, he would angle the tip of the Master Sword down and release the bottom of it's hilt with his right hand, effectively using the momentum of the weapon to drag his left arm down while his right arm returned to his side -- both out of grappling range as per his turn to the left that forced he and Omi face to face and his arms dropping down.
And if that weren't enough, Link would employ not his fluidity of motions; but rather the trademark grace of every man and woman who dared called themselves a competent swordsman. The thrust of the Master Sword would be the precursor of the swipe he would now aim at Omi's left leg. Pivoting his left wrist and using the coupled momentum of both his previous thrust and the twist of his torso, Link would swing his arm and in turn the Master Sword at Omi's leg from below, aiming to hinder the man's maneuverability in one deft move.
All of this important albeit subtle action brought upon by the simple gesture of Omi dodging a lethal attack. Combat stances by creation were used to ensure that proper maneuverability went hand-in-hand with a well-balanced center of gravity, and though Omi was clearly underestimating the Hero of Time, Link would not return the favor. He couldn't, no matter how much of a nice guy Omi might be underneath all of his grinning and malice.
Summary: Link dances past Omi and slashes at the man's leg.
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Posted: Sat Oct 31, 2009 11:47 am
Combat was not as simple as "who was the strongest?" Here in this ring, there were only the fewest of "guidelines;" Omi had seen such competitions elsewhere where there were even fewer, and you could more or less bash your opponent's skull open against the floor and suck out the juices if you were so inclined. Not to say he didn't love a good honest throw-down, but he realized just being steadfast and courageous was never enough. Your whole being had to simply seethe with the intent of victory; you couldn't be preoccupied with doing your best, because you had to instead focus on exceeding your limitations a thousand times in a single day.
 He was a stranger to this 'Link,' much less his arsenal. All he did know however, was that despite cutting Barsait's attempted destruction of the youth short with commendable skill, observation was lacking with his opponent. At least, just yet.
Barsait's armor had its flaws that were demonstrated time and time again. They had holes which could be filled by any number of bizarre things his opponents had handy. They did deafen the impact of blunt strikes, but only to an extent. Thin weaponry could simply pierce right on through, if the opponent was dexterous enough to pull it off. A variety of other problems would prove a concern, but of course.. there were advantages plentiful enough, he kept wearing the mesh without many qualms 'lest he was in a true frenzy.
One such advantage was that a blade like Link was wielding was while not too much so to wield, a ways too bulky to simply skewer his legs as such. Especially when it was an improvised slash mid-motion from another maneuver, even with the momentum applied. Had that been bare leg, no doubt the metal could have torn through Barsait's left leg quite nicely, severing flesh and crushing through bone for what could have been a crippling blow. Instead however, the blade merely made a nice slash across the dark metal that greeted it. Repeat slashes against that metal with sufficient might could no doubt make the mesh groan in futility, but the thing about that was: the ring wasn't so forgiving.
Whether Link withdrew his blade, attempted to re-adjust it, or what else have you - Omi's stocky leg would suddenly mash against it most furiously, sliding said leg forward forcefully to go along with the sword regardless of its destination. And while Barsait's arms would take a moment to become much use just yet, both gauntlet-covered hands grasping towards Link's backside to prevent a timely escape and appropriate adjustment of the sword said opponent wielded..
..given they were face to face, normally Omi might have headbutt his blond foe at the cost of perhaps, vice verse- an unsatisfactory possibility the [Serpentine Manipulation Artist] intended to n** in the bud at once by dropping his jaw, his heated breath coasting through the frigid air. So little distance between the two now and proper, that as a single serpent emanated from the dark-haired fighter's throat, happily crashing towards Link's left eye with perhaps a narrow inch or two to cover as Barsait's right index finger and thumb 'snapped' and his tongue flicked upwards the slightest bit..
Even if Link decided to bash his skull forward, whip it back, or jut it side to side, the distance was too short to cover at this point; flames would be digging into the youth's eye with absolutely no restraint, happily scolding through the thin layer of eyelid flesh if it decided to intervene. Mistakes were always capitalized upon in this ring, Barsait knew this well; he had absolutely no intent regardless of what this opponent was or wasn't capable of, all mistakes were held accountable!! Both his.. [ To Obtain Victory..] ..and most certainly, those of his foe.
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Posted: Sat Oct 31, 2009 3:47 pm
The Master Sword would produce a dull thud as it impacted Omi's leg and subsequent armor beneath, producing a sort of genuine surprise from the Hero of Time. He hadn't expected armor from this man. Regardless, Link would press on, now knowing that this battle wouldn't be decided with a series of slow attrition; but rather by a serious blow upon one of their bodies. With Omi stepping forward and into the Hylian Knight, and said Knight being on stable albeit wide-stanced footing as well as having his sword dipped down at his right flank(Omi's left), it was most obvious that Link would be hard-pressed to react appropriately and within logic to whatever Omi had in mind with his gung-ho attitude of getting up close and personal.
Yet it would come as no surprise when Link would react with a tenacity that had come to be expected in the Gaian Tenkaichi Bodoukai. Furrowing his eyebrows and watching Omi studiously, Link would carefully observe the growing firelight aiming towards his left eye and delve into his innate fey magics to perform a reflect spell at a cost of almost half his mana pool. Better safe than sorry in the face of the supernatural. The resulting effect would been the serpent skidding away from the Hero of Time's face, leaving said side warm, safe, yet oblivious to his left flank.
However, this was not the extent of Link's capabilities. Short-range power was relatively easy to summon with the Knight's more-than considerable strength and structured footing. Baring this in mind, as Omi reached forward with his hands to grab what he will of the Knight's back, Link, who still had his shield clinched on the Master Sword's scabbard behind him, would c**k his right-arm at the elbow and twist his torso to the left while sending an upper-cut into Omi's jaw. With a hundred and fifty-five pounds backing the fist coupled with Link's exceptional physical conditioning honed by experience and shaped by magic, it meant for a devastatingly powerful blow.
Unfortunately for Omi, he was flicking his tongue up and had his mouth opened. Not only was there a distinct possibility of Link severely injuring the man with whiplash or at the least knocking him out cold, he could very brutalize the man's teeth; but not before forcing them to gnash together and cause severe injury to his tongue. Yet, there was a price to be paid. Link could likely break his right hand on Omi's jaw with the amount of power backing it. To Obtain Victory, you had to have GUTS. Link had more than his fair share.
_______
Mana Pool: 12 Points.
Reflect Spell: 5 Points.
Current Mana Pool: 7 Points.
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Posted: Sun Nov 01, 2009 9:47 pm
"HGN?!!"
All Omi could do in that brief moment as his attack was literally reflected away, the serpent dissipating into nothingness, was stare in mild surprise as his eyes expanded wide. The possibility of meeting unexpected resistance, that was certainly always within his train of thought; but to have the raging coil deflected outright by some kind of supernatural force, it was an unexpected moment that would cost the dark-clad fighter.
One saving factor, was that the 'artist' had no fear of his tongue receiving damage; while his mouth was most certainly parted, the tongue was behind his teeth curling upwards - not extended outwards. Fortunate, as fighter Barsait's senses came crashing back to reality with a deadening force crashing into his jaw to remind him just what he was facing once more.
[CRUNCH]
A full-force uppercut landing in plush would cause those pearly teeth to slam together with such force, the gums would most certainly stain them crimson. It was less the teeth that he was really concerned about though, as much as the jaw muscle; bash it right, one's mouth won't shut right. That could prove horrendously costly..
..fortunately, the 182 pound fighter Omi Barsait had seen his fair share of injuries to the skull. One man in particular landed such a vicious 'rabbit punch' (a blow to the base of the skull), and placed so much overwhelming force onto the [Serpentine Manipulation Artist] before, breaking a leg and battering in a skull, crushing his muscles and bashing him against the ground..
Omi Barsait was a good sport. When he lost, he accepted it. After all, didn't he do the very same to his opponents past? Yet, to think the only man who could send him to the ground in years, let alone twice was so close.. that the peak was there in front of him again, and that someone dared try and intervene..
..that such a fierce uppercut would strike him.. trying to inhibit him..
..suddenly became utterly infuriating beyond his wildest dreams!!
Yet, as his teeth clenched tight in nerve-wracking pain, the taste of blood filling his mouth whilst the dark-clad fighter's body lurched backwards with the force of that sudden surprise strike.. something seemed off. If imaginable, it wasn't that momentarily, the Round V fighter battling Link suddenly loss general control of his body as his mind delved into a deep haze from the sudden skull-penetrating agony. It was more that within that haze, something was digging its claws into him..
Both pupils immediately went level again to try and at least get the enemy back in sight, hands at their respective sides as they began to lazily raise upwards at a very gradual pace. Even amidst that shot, Barsait knew he was going to be hurt more. An uppercut like that begged to be followed up upon; Link was going to deliver the goods in the form of damage. Normally, as the 'artist' and his boots slid back an arrant inch across the frosty floor, he could predict this and react accordingly even outside of a guarded stance. Yet, the shock of that blow was well felt.. and more restraining yet, was this sudden new sensation.
Chin digging against the offending right fist, all Barsait could think of as he sluggishly pressed his body against Link to make a follow-up as difficult to position as possible though likely inevitable.. was this strange world his mind was suddenly taking him to. It felt so dark, without the slightest trace of heat as he gazed into the abyss in every direction .. yet it didn't feel empty. Something..
"He'll hit me.. damn it, I can't move! DAMN IT!"
.. something festering inside of him. Was he hit that hard?! It was mind-boggling, the sensation started cold with the bitter ice abound but suddenly exploded into a wave of synapses connecting in hateful retaliation to his recklessness, his mind traveling from a lulled calm into a frenzied roar. All he could feel flood him, even as his eyes involuntarily winced a bit at the doubtless second shot..
.. was some kind of sick hatred that was burning him alive, taking his near-extinguished torch and giving it absurd levels of fuel. He felt hot, head to toe; his skin felt the icy air's stinging embrace, but beneath that, behind his eyes, in his head - it felt..
"Uhnn..!!" A small sucked-in gasp between his pursed lips, one might have attributed this to that fierce upper. Yet, it was that feeling exploding inside of his skull, no, deeper still - it felt like someone just flooded his entire body with some kind of intangible inferno threatening to pull in everything close and burn it to eternal smoldering ash.
It was time for phase II.
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Posted: Sat Nov 07, 2009 12:16 pm
Link could throw a punch; but he was no boxer. Having never been taught how to properly c**k his hand when throwing a punch, both the Hylian Knight's wrist and fingers were susceptible to injury - injury which he could not avoid. The awkward angle and sudden impact hurt his wrist, while the outside two knuckles of both his pinky and ring finger would bruise. The damage was done, Omi had been struck, and yet the man followed his instinct of pushing into the Hero of Time. Link knew this instinct well; that only two things came to mind immediately after being struck - to throw oneself into the fray, or get back. With Omi choosing the former, muscle memory acted far faster than mental tact, pulling Link's body through the motions.There was no thought, no feelings of anger or aggression; only the purity of mind and spirit as the Hero of Time let his body act and react with absolute decisiveness.
Grunting with the sudden explosion of pain in both his hand and wrist, Link would once again try to put some distance between and Omi by taking a series of steps back, yet it was futile. The Serpentine Manipulator was adamant at keeping the Hero of Time close, leaving said Hero with little choice but to oblige the man in extremely close quarters combat - his weakest department. There was a difference between being trained and relying on instincts, and whereas Link was an exceptional swordsman, he was a terrible brawler. He could only do so much before the inevitable happened and Omi ran him down with his longer strides, heavier weight set, and higher stature. Yet Link was a determined individual, and he wouldn't be taken down without a considerable fight.
As Omi pressed forward and Link stepped back, the Knight would move both his left and right arms in preparation for attack. His left arm, which wielded the Master Sword and was somewhat pinned to his side by Omi's arms, would bend at the elbow as it drew all the way back, the wrist angling slightly as Link attempted to poise the tip of his blade at Omi's gut. Link's right hand in the interim would move and place itself on the junction between Omi's left shoulder and neck, sword-calloused finger tips grabbing tight while his right arm went erect in an attempt to keep the man at bay for what was next. Tightening his grip on the wire-wrapped hilt and plunging the hand-and-a-half sword forward, Link would hope to drive the pointed edge of the sword through the links of Omi's chainmail to wound the man.
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