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Midus Sonners Vice Captain
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 Posted: Thu Feb 02, 2012 9:16 pm
The arena itself, which actually sits below ground level, spans two hundred feet in diameter with walls twenty feet high before the stands begin. The floor of the arena is sprinkled with just enough sand to cover up the stones beneath, but not enough to be significantly detrimental to footing or traction. Gates at the northern and southern end lead into the arena, through which contenders will enter upon being summoned from their quarters in order to compete in the designated match. The platform is risen only four feet off the ground. The stone is tough and is made to withstand superhuman matches. Though there will be cracks and such to show damage, it is a resilient platform that cannot be destroyed with ease. The ring itself covers a span of seventy-five feet in diameter within the two-hundred span of the whole fighting arena within the seating area (this includes out of bounds).
Out of Bounds: The ground between the platform and the wall of the stands is out of bounds, which naturally starts the ten count. Touching the stands is also out of bounds. If the platform somehow ends up getting chunked somewhere to reveal ground, that exposed ground still becomes time out.
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Posted: Thu Feb 02, 2012 11:21 pm
He sat on a bench against the wall in the men's locker room.
His head was bowed, eyes hooded, offering the shaky camera man naught but a close-up of the prickly, porcuplne quill-like mess of platinum hair sticking out of his scalp.
The sound of fabric ripping echoed through the locker room as the primal wrapped his wrists, hands and knuckles with athletic tape, used his canines to sever the pieces of tape from the tape roll with a lightning-like reflexive slash.
He gave the tape up, and his head ratcheted upward. The very sight of those jaws, that protruding, snout-like maxilla, those flared, puffy cheeks housing canines like wrought, sharp steel, was enough to make a man pull his head down and avert his eyes from those of the wolf.
"Unnamed."
The fey's head swiveled in the direction of the vocalization. One of the tournament staff members had come to let him know it was time.
"You're up," he stammered.
The primal stood, pacing like a lion, gathered his gear and exited the locker room through the northern tunnel. The rifle clicked into his right hand; he snapped the firearm into the sling on his back bayonet-first and slipped into the darkness of the tunnel.
His eyes glimmered purple.
He took out his knife and strode into the arena.
The warm daylight reflecting off the unforgiving sands and platform flooded his senses. He tilted his head up. His golden irises contracted, pulling his pupils into thin vertical slits. People cheered.
He dashed forward and jumped onto the solid platform.
Held aloft, his steel claymore-like blade flashed in the sun.
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Posted: Fri Feb 03, 2012 6:47 am
"M-must you leave...?" She huffed out between heavy gasps, her nails digging into his back as to not let him leave.
Razel pushed himself off of her and climbed out of the bed, "There are more pressing matters that require my attention."
The young woman sat up and rested her back against the headboard. She pulled up the blanket and wrapped it around her to cover her bare body. "When will you be back?" she pouted as she watched him dress.
"Never," Razel replied with a voice of indifference. He finished the last button on his coat and left the room without looking back.
It wasn't long before the demon was walking through the tunnel. The cheer of the crowd echoed all throughout the dim pathway. The light from outside became brighter the closer he came to the exit, and finally as he stepped out into open viewing the crowd gave a an earth-shaking roar.
Razel's eyes didn't look to the crowd, his eyes were focused on the platform just a short distance ahead of him. He continued with his advance in large strides and effortlessly jumped onto the edge of the circular platform. He took a few short steps closer to the center while he adjusted his onyx cuff links. His thick tail swept the sand off of the stone just behind him.
Unlike his opponent, the demon had a refined appearance. He was clean and he acted in a civilized manner. In fact, he looked more like an official for the tournament than an actual competitor. His dark pin-stripe suit was tailored to snugly fit his musculature. His belt, his shoes, the band and face of his watch, and the gem of his cuff links were all a matching black. Likewise, the metals used for buckles, watches, and so on were a glinting silver. His shirt was the purest of whites, a perfect contrast to the dark grays and blacks of his suit and tie.
It was a sophisticated look, further enhanced by a neat haircut with precise edges. Then there was the the exotic nature of his character: the long spaded tail, the red pigment of his skin, the pointed ears, and his glowing amber eyes. It was no surprise that the loudest screams came from a group of women who had pushed their ways through the crowd to the front of the stadium with hopes that they may catch his eye.
But Razel didn't turn to look at them. He seemingly didn't even pay much attention to the rabid...thing that stood his opposite. He continued to make frivolous adjustments to his accessories, appearing rather disinterested in what was supposed to be happening.
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Posted: Fri Feb 03, 2012 10:55 am
The primal squinted inquisitively as the red-skinned demon completed a celeritously effortless leap onto the platform.
He blocked out the sound of the crowd and sized his opponent up, reading his energy, searching for weaknesses and openings in his guard, or the lack thereof.
How tall was he?
How much did he really weigh?
How long was his tail, and were the edges and point of the spaded tip sharp? Was the spaded tip of the tail plated?
'Unnamed' stood poised at a height of five feet eleven inches. He had weighed in at one hundred sixty-four pounds before the battle. A woolen turtleneck sweater clung to muscle packed densely beneath the fabric; a pair of belted loose-fitting blue jeans and steel-plated, steel toe combat boots adorned his lower half.
He grinned wolfishly.
"Just wake up?"
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Posted: Fri Feb 03, 2012 1:46 pm
Razel's eyes floated up and his brow quirked to look at the creature when he spoke to the demon.
"Sadly, no. That wench wouldn't allow me to rest," His tone casual, he made the final adjustments to his clothes before standing straight with his hands at his waist.
He looked forward, his eyes level with his opposite's. The distance between them made the mere inch of difference in height nearly unnoticeable. The creature had Razel's attention, but the demon still didn't seem to be too interested in what was happening. As he sized up the creature he opened the mental flood gates, allowing his spiritual energy to course through his being with a considerable portion passively finding its way to his right hand.
"Let's not make this take any longer than it has to," he said without a hint of enthusiasm. "I have other things to do."
--
Incinerating Touch lv. 1
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Posted: Fri Feb 03, 2012 4:10 pm
"Right."
The primal danced lightly across the platform.
He whipped up his bowie, pointing the end at Razel's throat.
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Posted: Fri Feb 03, 2012 5:27 pm
Razel raised a brow as he shifted around the platform's edge to maintain the distance.
Is he...gay?
Meanwhile, more of the demon's spiritual energy flowed within, with an even greater concentration accumulating at his right hand.
--
Incinerating Touch lv. 2
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Posted: Sat Feb 04, 2012 11:46 am
The primal shifted likewise in the opposite direction Razel was moving, mirroring his opponent's movements step-for-step as he circled and closed in, attempting to cut his adversary's beeline off.
The weight of the primal's spirit accumulated beneath the paper-thin shell that contained its might, distributing energy evenly through his limbs.
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Posted: Sat Feb 04, 2012 2:58 pm
Jeers from the crowd came as the two of them played their game. As if it were choreographed, they seemingly moved in unison. The demon still ignored the fans, it wasn't his aim to be their entertainment.
The wolf was quick, although Razel wasn't putting forth much of an effort to begin with. It happened suddenly, the demon stopped and pushed off in the other direction. Shifting step-by-step in a way to position himself closer to the center of the ring.
His eyes attentively watched his opponent while seamlessly gliding over the stone. Still, the energy within poured freely with growing intensity.
--
Incinerating Touch lv. 3
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Posted: Sat Feb 04, 2012 4:34 pm
Step by step, the demon moved toward the center of the ring.
The primal pivoted, shifting direction, cutting him off, the beasts' paths inevitably intertwined.
Advancing cautiously into his proper range, the primal lined the point of the thirty-nine-inch long blade up with Razel's larynx, holding his elbows in and his arms close to his body.
He took baby steps toward his adversary, keeping his right foot in front of the left.
No matter which way Razel went, the primal could pivot and change direction instantly, following him.
Positively charged, the same amount of spiritual energy flowed through the primal's body as before.
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Posted: Sat Feb 04, 2012 7:37 pm
Getting to the center wasn't a must for Razel and he stopped once he was satisfied with a position that would prevent him from being easily charged out of bounds. There he watched with narrowed eyes and a smug grin for the wolf to come.
While his opponent carefully advanced Razel stepped back with his right foot, stood sure, and held out his hand level with his face. When the primal neared about ten feet away the demon pulled his wrist back and motioned with his index finger beckoning the wolf closer.
As his hand rolled inwards his fingers curled in with the thumb and middle finger pressed lightly together. At the apex he suddenly flicked his wrist forward and snapped his fingers. With the sound barely audible underneath the crowd, hellfire was sparked from that simple, effortless action.
No bigger than a baseball, it traveled quickly through the air with a flaming tail appearing like a miniature comet that was inevitably going to crash into the primal's face. It happened in a flash, those in the crowd who blinked might have even missed it.
--
Incinerating Touch lv. 3
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Posted: Sun Feb 05, 2012 12:07 am
Razel's body movement telegraphed his intention.
As Razel snapped, the primal's eyes detected the spark of igniting magic, the burst of flame. He lowered himself into the low guard position. The baseball size ball of fire rocketed over his head. With his blade still pointed at the demon's throat, he rose and advanced.
Three meters--
Two meters--
The primal's range was greater than the demon's.
Razel's left hand was his first target.
Like the fangs of a cobra, his blade struck out in a cut, full, accurate and hard, toward Razel's fingers. He returned to the guard position and pointed his blade at Razel's throat. A fresh batch of energy spurted out from his chakras, cycled through his frame, charging him like a battery.
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Posted: Mon Feb 06, 2012 10:17 am
Razel's smirk didn't falter as the wolf ducked below the fireball. He expected it, this was a tournament after all. He figured the primal would continue his advance, and he was correct with his assumption. The demon watched the knife come ever so closer and wondered just where the wolf might want to stick it.
His keen perception caught the twitch of the primal's arm and once he discerned the blade's intended path he reacted immediately. With a single fluid movement he lowered his hand down to his waist while his right foot stepped forward and carried him out of harm's way.
His knees slightly bent, his body slanted right, he easily evaded the knife and engaged the fight.
As he dodged the knife aimingt to remove his hand, his long tail whipped into life. The spade darted underneath the man's right arm during his thrust, and before it returned to guard, it attempted to tightly coil around the upper forearm. The grip was impressive, undoubtedly crushing, and was combined with a violent upward jerk to yank the wolf off his feet.
Meanwhile, as the wolf guarded high, the demon aimed low, and his right hand swung for an attack from below. Though just before it would connect, he forced from wrist his very own bone to rip through his flesh.
It would taper to a point about a foot away from his knuckles and was closing in to disembowel the poor wolf's intestines.
--
Incinerating Touch lv. 3
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Posted: Mon Feb 06, 2012 2:16 pm
In snapping the fingers of his left hand and flicking that hand forward, the demon had to have committed at least slightly to the gesture used to fling the ball of hellfire.
Pulling the hand back to his waist would not necessarily completely save the appendage from the primal's full, hard thrust and accurate cut, unless the demon was just that fast--
--just that good.
The hellspawn's step forward and subsequent dodge afforded the primal a split second to react to the demon's movements and properly align himself with his adversary before pressing the attack.
As the spaded tail coiled tightly around his upper forearm, the primal delivered a lusty shout intended to distract his opponent and momentarily paralyze his ability to think.
The yell hardened the muscles of the primal's stomach and chest, increasing the power of the attack that followed: a fast, simple, effective volt forward.
The demon's tail pulled the primal off his feet and in retreating to the guard position pulled him forward, into range.
With his left elbow in and his open hand guarding his bowels, he took the foot-long bone spike through his left palm, and made a fist.
His hand closed over the demon's with shocking strength.
The same electrifying energy seethed through his system, and his palm scorched against the demon's knuckles and bone spike before the thirty-nine-inch-long blade pointed forward in his right hand was thrust into the demon's liver.
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Posted: Tue Feb 07, 2012 6:31 am
The wolf would find it difficult to regain control of his arm as the deceptively strong tail resisted the primal's struggle. The tail kept tugging in such a way to hold the arm in place, preventing it from returning to guard and from attempting another attack. With whatever way the wolf tried to guide his arm, the tail acted as if it had a mind of its own and made a slight adjustment to pull an opposing way. All the while, it constricted tighter with hopes that the pressure on the forearm would disarm the wolf of his knife.
The effects of the shout went virtually unnoticed, the demon possessing a mental fortitude well beyond what could be considered normal. In fact, the edges of his lips seemed to crack in delight as he just assumed the wolf was crying in anguish.
A spike through the hand wasn't a good thing for the primal, and Razel took this as assurance for his victory. He eyes didn't move when he felt the hold of the wolf's hand, nor did he try to fight it. If it were radiating heat, the demon wasn't able to tell. It was his natural element.
But the wolf might not have been as lucky, as the demon's right hand was as hot as a stove. For a normal person, a brief touch was enough to cause a blistering sting, but holding on for a few seconds was not only painful, but could be very damaging.
--
Incinerating Touch lv. 3
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