Description: Each fighter will receive an unmarked package delivered to them either through standard postage or through courier late in the evening. Inside is a standard GPS device with a location preloaded. Those savvy with the local area will notice the indication located is a seedy part of Barton town. Known for it's projects, slums, and red light districts. Common establishments include brothels, clubs, greasy diners, tiny apartments, and pawn shops.
It'll be night time before anyone will be able to reach the indicated location. It appears awfully run down, with decaying buildings covered with graffiti and trash laying about. The complete lack of official personal or equipment might make one wonder if this was a set up, at least until their opponent arrives. A few low lifes linger around, with mixed reactions as the fights commence. Some will drunkenly cheer random fighters on, while others might threaten to call the cops. More still will opt to just ignore whats going on, as if it was just another day in the life. If one is observant, they might notice a particular silvery haired girl sitting near the entrance to a nightclub with a friend, both of whom seem to be paying close attention.
Sure hope you all can recognize each other!
Field Measurements: Roughly 40 foot square paved lot. This does overflow to some degree
Ten Count Boundary: Stepping into the street or any of the adjacent businesses will start the ten count. This, however, may be worth it due to the items listed below.
Bonus: Due to not being properly cleared before the matches, there are all sorts of impromptu items littering around. 2x4s with nails, broken bottles and shards of glass, lengths of metal piping all are options for the opportunist fighter. Who knows what else the nearby dumpster might hold. On top of that, an enterprising fighter might opt to risk the 10 count to grab a weapon from one of the nearby businesses. Chairs, pool cues, and even knives are options from the various places nearby...if they can get in and out again in time.
Posted: Sun Feb 10, 2013 12:59 pm
(( As a forewarning, I might vanish for a couple of days after today. ))
Damon had been in his room the past evening, reviewing the results of his first fight. This was more or less a distraction from his stressful personal life. Something he didn't care to dwell upon the day before round two was to begin.
As he watched, he pointed out flaws in his own technique and made notes of where he needed to improve. Thankfully the cameras covered a wide variety of angles and he got to see the match from all sides. He'd need to work on his punching technique and learn to improvise a bit more. And not only that, Damon saw that he had been pretty stiff during the more intense portions of the fight. Being loose and flowing would help him with his stand-up game.
Once a few hours had passed, the psion figured that he could squeeze in a few hours of shut-eye. Damon had trained himself to only need a few hours of sleep before waiting up perfectly rested and ready.
Later that night...
A knock on the door woke Damon from his sleep. He groggily sat up in bed and swung his feet around, walking over and peeking through the peep-hole. His eyes widened with a bit of surprise. When he opened the door a BSSF soldier strode in holding a slightly torn brown package.
"Sir, we intercepted a courier heading to your room with this parcel. We've already inspected it and it doesn't seem to contain any traces of hazardous materials or explosives."
Damon glanced at the package, back to the soldier, and then back to the package. Ah, the joys of your own private army. The Black Sand Security Forces were more like Damon's personal self-defense force, because when you run an operation like he does, you make a lot of enemies. "So what's inside?" "A GPS, sir."
Most likely for the tournament. Maybe...
Barton Town
This was the sort of place that Damon had hung around in his younger years. You could make a small living acting as a bodyguard for shops or clubs, especially when you had powers that could take out even the most disorderly of metahumans.
A dusty back alley like the one being approached now is the sort of place where you get mugged, or where shady dealings are done. Perhaps someone wanted to meet with him to discuss business? Or this could be an elaborate trap staged by an enemy.
Either way, a man dressed in a black hoodie and jeans made his way into the empty lot. He examined the area carefully, looking for any sign of threatening activity or suspicious behavior. He had some insurance just encase things went south.
Since nobody had shown up yet, the man walked over towards a nearby graffitied wall and leaned against it. His face was obscured by darkness and he kept his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. Most people didn't give him a second glance...
There was a soft humming sound from the opposite side of the alley way. it was soon followed by the sound of soft leather against the uneven, and definitely in need of some work, pavement. Around that same corner from where the sound flowed from, came a man. Or, at least what appeared to be a man. In this tournament, one could never be sure of species from a single glance.
Marx walked forwards, holding the GPS device before his face. He had to admit, this thing was awesome. Never the type from modern technology, it had always been spells that the Djinn would use to get places,or find his way. But this thing talked back! How cool?! " Arrived at Destination. " Came the computerized and filtered voice issuing from the small GPS. Marx gave a little jump, the voice surprising him only for the what, sixth or seventh time now?
Marx took the chance to throw the thing over his shoulder. It had lost it's usefulness with his arrival, and he had a feeling trying to figure it out would be a waste of time. Now, this was interesting. It had to be some practical joke. Why the hell would the next fight be scheduled to happen here? Hell, sure things went south at the GTB stadium, but here of all places? Someone was pulling his leg. Marx felt his eyes narrow in irritation, and scanned over the " arena " again. The first time across, the guy in the black sweatshirt had blended into the graffiti-covered wall. Second time, a bit of movement caught Marx's eye.
" I suppose that you are either the purveyor of this joke, or this is the real deal, and you're the person I'm meant to fight next. " Marx dropped his left hand, and it fell upon the familiar ivory and leather grip of his sword. With the sound of metal on metal, the sword was pulled out and brandished before Marx. " Either way, I suggest you get on guard. " Marx began feeling through the air, spreading his awareness of the prana from within the confines of his body. To say the least, this place was filled to the brim with the stuff. The sadness, depravity, loss of life throughout the general area... it all built up to gather the positive prana energy to help maintain whatever semblance of a balance positive and negative energies needed in order to coexist. Marx pulled a small amount of this prana, coating the air like a thick blanket, towards the edge of is blade. It wasn't invisible by any means, and it began forming a green wreath over the entire black blade.
Marx was prepared to either begin a fight against some joker, or take out his next opponent.
Posted: Sun Feb 10, 2013 3:33 pm
Hidden cameras began to record and people started to gather around, clearly interested in the prospect of a fight. Despite the glowing green sword the man had drawn, the one in the black hoodie seemed unafraid. He pushed himself off the wall and walked forward a bit...
"Ah. So this is for the tournament."
He touched his ear and whispered something...
Once that was done he pulled the hood down to reveal the fact that he wasn't Damon, but one of his soldiers. "Looks like a big misunderstanding, sir." And with that, he turned to walk off. A small red dot also disappeared from the back of the swordsman's head. If this had been a trap, he'd have had a sniper bullet penetrating his skull...
From the shadow nearby, one of the "spectators" stepped forward. Damon. He'd been observing the whole thing for a little bit. Watching the guy charge his sword and chest pound a bit. "Sorry about the mix-up. You can never be too careful..."
That said, Damon moved into the empty lot. He didn't think he'd end up having to go against a magical sword so early on. Ah well, the best fighters learn how to adapt. "Seems you have me at a disadvantage."
Well. That wasn't entirely true. Psionic energy began to gather throughout Damon's body, causing a slight transparent, glassy aura to form around him. You never walk into a fight without keeping your guard up.
Yummybiscuits
(( Sorry, was in the mood for a bit of RP. Would you mind quoting me so I know when you've replied? ))
Truest Valor
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YummyBiscuits generated a random number between
1 and 100 ...
27!
Marx raised an eyebrow in light confusion. Sir? Now, that was weird. Marx couldn't help but tighten the grip on his blade. He had mentioned the tournament, but something about this was just... To fishy. It wasn't kosher. The laser point being pulled away from the back of his head went unnoticed, and Marx turned around when the " real " competitor appeared.
" It's much better to face a trap oneself instead of having a subordinate take a bullet for you. Hmph. " Marx let out a soft soft, squeezed from in between his clenched teeth. As far as he could tell, this guy was some sort of coward, possibly worse. Nevertheless, if this was to be the person he was to fight, it would happen that way.
Marx shifted the grip on his blade, letting his eyes narrow further when his opponent let out some sort of aura. It was opaque, and Marx made note of the color. It could clue him into something later. Marx pulled the blade so that the back pressed against his right thigh. He slashed, making sure to pulse the prana that coated his blade. It would separate from his blade, flying towards his Opponent.
( Roll is good. )
Magic Energy Use: Marx, for all of his spells, uses the ancient energy known as Prana. When Djinn do not possess a physical form, their bodies are made of this magical energy, which when visible, is a wispy rainbow of color. It has little to no mass, but is extremely volatile in its raw form, requiring it to be bound to use, or refined in the use of a spell. Marx is known for having light green prana, and for that reason, most of his spells will shine with a green light. If he were to be bound to an item, his form at that point would become made of this green energy, changing his entire spectrum f color to a green, wispy energy. As a Djinn, Marx has a high degree of control over his prana, as well as prana present in the environment. This allows him to use high caliber spells without much drain on his body. At the same time however, this prana is always limited. He requires rest after a fight, like most others, as he can't sap the energy from the environment in order to fuel himself. He can only use prana from the environment for quick spells, as a buffer to his own energy sources.
While is is dangerous, Marx can collect small to large amounts of prana, and fire off the unrefined energy in the form of energy blasts. They are extremely explosive, so if Marx is interrupted while using this form of attack, it could possibly explode in his face. ( 25% chance of spell recoil. Increases by 10% for each charge. )
The prana would shape itself into a spinning baton of light. However, it wasn't aimed right for his opponent. It would be hard to judge at first for the spinning, but the spinning baton would impact to Damon's right. The moment it touched the pavement, it would detonate in an explosion that could overtake the psion, and send a large amount of dusty, debris filled smoke into the air.
Marx had begun moving when the prana had separated from his blade. Distraction tactics, use the smoke to come from an unexpected, and most likely unguarded angle. His legs pumped, angling his body to his right, so that he would come upon Damon's left. Since the explosion had come fromDamon's right, this pincer type move could be unprecedented.
Marx disengaged from the smoke with a small jump, arcing through the air and towards Damon. His blade flashed like silver, a strike. From Marx's left hand, a strike that was aimed to strike across the closest leg, and cut deep at that.
Marx was the kind of fighter to break down an opponent, weaken them to the point of being able to be felled easily. The last fight he was only able to partially do that, with slicing the man up a bit before actually defeating him. This round would be different.
Posted: Sun Feb 10, 2013 6:00 pm
Damon didn't stand there and wait to be hit by the incoming energy, so he readied himself to dodge to the left. Only thing was is that the energy itself drifted off and hit the pavement beside him, erupting into a green, brown and white explosion! The force didn't cause Damon any trouble, he'd been through worse, and the debris harmlessly pelted against his clothing. The bigger chunks of debris and dust were flung at the spectators, but a quick-thinking soldier used a wrist mounted device to project a light barrier around them.
Now there place where Damon had been previously standing was covered by a dirty fog of debris. And the psion was nowhere to be seen, but he was there and was already moving into his next course of action. Nothing about the arena had gone unnoticed, and one mans trash can be another mans weapon. Since his opponent had already started moving after throwing his attack, Damon had followed his movement and predicted he should attack from the left...
As soon as Marx breached the debris, he'd find himself suddenly and violently under attack. At stream of nails, dirt, small chunks of pavement and glass were literally shotgunned directly into him, aiming for his chest, hands, and face. While Damon couldn't telekinetically control each individual piece, he could throw 25 pounds of it in a single direction! There was a good chance he'd end up with all sorts of pointy and dirty objects in his eyes and face.
Despite his attack, Damon knew that this would rarely prevent an enemy from outright moving - or taking a blind swipe. So he backed away to where he had previously been standing. The idea here was to keep himself out of range and be the most difficult person on earth to actually hit. Not the most sporting of ways to fight, but you gotta play it smart against weapons!
That was unexpected. When he came through the dust and smoke, Marx had just enough time to watch a wave of junk fly towards him. What was this kid? The quick thinker said psychic powers, or something of the sort were at play here. The items were to varied and to complex to have a simple elemental control, and no one Marx knew had enough powerover the wind to fling that much junk with no small wait.
The Djinn had just enough time to land, and instead of striking as he had planned, use the momentum from his jump to roll forwards. His eyes had caught that the majority of the crap was aimed for his upper body, possibly to disorient and make it more difficult for the fighter to be at his top. This roll took the effectiveness out of the attack, and only a few, heavier piece of junk rubbed against Marx's moving body.
He moved swiftly from the roll, standing, and flinging himself forwards in a half-jump. There wasn't much space between them, and the roll had brought them closer. This jump would close the distance again, and let Marx get close enough to strike. He'd have to be careful though, and play in the hopes of moving quickly enough to evade any psychic blasts, or whatever this kid could pump out.
The transition was smooth, and Marx moved into another attack. This time, his half jump brough him within range of striking his opponent's belly. He could gut the kid. Marx knew better than to kill though. In turn, his strike was aimed to cut through the muscle of his opponent's abdomen. The curved edge of the blade, bending like an Indian scimitar. Would make sure this wasn't fatal beyond the threat of blood loss.
Marx wasn't the fool to let himself get caught up in a rush attack. When his feet planted, and his strike was thrown, his feet would twist. Namely, his left foot shot around behind the right leg, swiftly turning him and bring Marx along to twirl towards his own right. Ay psychic blasts could, and possibly would, be evaded through those means.
Posted: Sun Feb 10, 2013 9:05 pm
Clarifications
I'm also sorry if I didn't make this clear, but Marx is left handed. So, his strike came from his right, which is Damon's left, aimed to cut into Damon's abdomen. If it hits, it would be sorta shallow because of the curve presented with the blade, but deep enough to cut through some muscle.
So in all, it's a roll, leap, land/slash simultaneously, then fancy foot work dodge.
Damon abruptly stopped moving back as Marx rolled under his cloud. The one thing he had learned when dealing with sword users, is to never retreat; because you'll just die tired and chopped up. Damon knew that if he backed up that he'd eventually end up giving the guy room to pressure him into a corner. And so he did the opposite - he pre-empted the swordsman by moving forwards.
This would have both warriors meeting each other half-way.
As Marx rolled up and swung, Damon moved in and around to his own right. This would place him on the outside of his opponents swing and away from the blade. With his own left hand, Damon would intercept Marx' left sword arm at the wrist and send a sharp punch into his opponents exposed left ribs. At the same time he intended to hit, Damon planned to unleash his remaining psionic energy in a very hard blast.
Quote:
Telekinetic Melee: Damon weaves his telekinetic energy into each strike, producing a controlled 'blast' upon contact. This allows him to double the effectiveness of his melee attacks, equivalent to a 4x strength increase. This strength increase applies to weapons he is using as well. Each strike requires him to be focused on his intended point of contact. The telekinetic blast can be interrupted if he is struck before making contact.
He was packing enough punch to bust those ribs all up, namely the lower ones; possibly taking out a kidney, like what he had done to Marcus in the previous round. Even if his opponent had armor, all that kinetic energy had to go somewhere. The bones and fragile internal bits were as good a place as any!
Assuming things had worked up to this point, Damon would continue to hold onto his opponent after the psi-strike. He'd bring his right hand up to the back of Marx' shoulder and step in so that their bodies were almost side-by-side. From there the psion would attempt to force his opponent face-first down to the ground.
He could maybe submit this guy within the first few minutes and spare the both of them the potential agony of a more drawn out fight. Damon liked making people give up in fights, because knocking them out just wasted a lot of time and required a lot more effort.
Marx gave a grunt of irritation when the sword swipe was dodged. He was almost positive he had been quick enough to get him, and get him good. Damn.marx felt his wrist locked in place.
But, Marx was still moving with the beginning actions of a dodge. He knew stoping now would mean a punch to his open side, possibly a knife in his ribs at that. Enough people had died already to worry the Djinn.
Marx was not able to twirl completely, due to the hold on his wrist. Instead, it ended up being a turn, just enough to twist out of the way of an incoming punch. There was some weird transfer of force, centered on Damon's fist. Marx felt it, rather than seeing it; as a hard wind flying beside his body, close enough to feel the force behind it. That really could have been bad for the poor, poor Djinn. Ribs were hard to heal.
Nevertheless, Marx used the lapse in action, when he had turned, to begin moving again. His twirl had left his right side pointing towards Damon, and his left arm was straight across his chest, still being held as far as he could tell. Marx tugged, using that force to put most of his weight towards his left leg, which was away from Damon. If Marx had his way, the boy would be pulled towards him, only slightly, and Marx lifted his right leg with the shifting of his weight. It was pret much like hitting a baseball at this point; easy. Marx's foot rose, and aimed a solid, hard hitting kick right for Damon's knee.
Technically, right above the knee, but hell man, it would break nonetheless. By striking above the knee, the weakness of the tendons lining the cap could be exposed, allowing a quick and clan break, instead of having to force it by pressing against the joint itself. There would be less pain, but it was much more effective. If it actually hit that is.
If Marx's blow had landed, he used the solid footing of Damon's now broken knee to push off, in the hopes of wrenching the grip from his wrist completely, and free the swordsman.
Posted: Mon Feb 11, 2013 3:24 pm
(( Forgive the quality of my post. I had difficultly figuring out your move. ))
Damon had really felt like his attack was going to land. The positioning was right and his execution very fluid and rapid, and yet his opponent just barely slipped away. Be it, his movement was very sloppy and ended up with him hyper-extending his left elbow across his chest. This put his sword near his right shoulder, if not over it, and blocked any use of his right arm.
His grip remained firm on his opponents swordarm, his intent to keep the blade out of the equation. Remember, Damon was basically unarmed, and keeping this fight on a level playing field was essential to victory.
Rather than attempt to struggle with his opponent in a grappling situation, Damon swung his left foot back, pivoting on his right foot, and brought his body around to the right. As he did this, he twisted Marx left arm towards him. By doing this he planned to bring himself side-to-side with Marx, his right to his opponents left. Cranking that arm, he intended to loosen the grip his opponent had on his sword.
Damon followed up by instantly placing his right hand on his opponent's shoulder and pushing inwards. Pulling the arm back and cranking it, combined with pushing on the shoulder would let him force his opponent forwards and to his knees. And the psion wasn't done! Since he hadn't made contact with his opponent, Damon never released his telekinetic blast. So all that energy remained stored within him.
Using that stored up telekinetic force, Damon would unleash a strong concussive blast into the shoulder. His aim was to brutally remove that arm from its socket, and ultimately the entire arm from the body. Given his experience and athletic strength, this was a feat accomplished in nearly an instant fluid motion.
There'd likely be no twirling out of this. Without his sword-arm, and bleeding profusely, Damon could likely convince Marx to give up the fight. That was his style. Never taking things farther than they needed to go.
So, the plan didn't work. But you couldn't call someone a swordsman if one wasn't inventive on the spot. Look for brief weaknesses, and all that jazz. Exploit them just as quickly.
Marx only had to wait. No more than a second at that. When Damon shifted his left foot in order to turn, and bring Marx's arm away from it's near hyper extension, he could act. And the Djinn did so fluidly, with the speed that his race was known for. The strength, at that, too.
Marx's weight then was set well. With his weight on the leg tleg, he pushed forwards in the moment that Damon would move, and give a hard shove. He didn't have time to get his other arm into the fray, so it was more of a shoulder check.
Marx pushed his shoulder forwards, when his own arm moved with Damon. He was in control of his own body, and some hold on the wrist wouldn't undo the strength the swordsman had available. This would unsettle Damon's movement, and probably send the psion stumbling away.
Marx pulled, and pulled damn hard, on his arm. It was an attempt to wrench his arm free, using his advantage in strength and positioning. It would be difficult to resist the tug. And with the tug, since Marx's sword was still held in his hand, a nice, neat line could be cut along Damon's forearm.
Marx moved quickly after having wrenched his arm free, assuming he had done so. He pushed off with his right foot now, jabbing his sword out in a straight line. It was aimed well, just above the boy's right pectoral. There wasn't anything serious there, but the pain and bloodless could do quite a bit to a fighter, especially against a Djinn swordsman.
Posted: Tue Feb 12, 2013 10:37 pm
Judge Ruling
I've been asked to come here and analyze a current situation involving misunderstandings and checking to see if everything is working properly. After reviewing the fight to the latest post, I have come to the decision that Damon did a couple of things wrong.
1) He did not acknowledge the knee attack that Yummy made during the pull of his arm:
Quote:
Marx's foot rose, and aimed a solid, hard hitting kick right for Damon's knee.
This needs to be fixed.
And secondly:
2) Damon attempting to wrench Marx's sword out of his hand while attacking him at the shoulder. However, Marx reacted by pushed against him while he did so. Damon's reaction was that the "check" missed. This is illogical. Your character already committed to the disabling technique and the attack at the shoulder. Therefore, he is subject to his own off balance. Saying the check "missed" is not possible with the timing of things. Damon is performing an action, and Marx is performing a defensive action. Unless your character can rewind time, Damon is deemed "grounded".
Therefore, the decision is:
Edit your latest post, Damon as if the following action had succeeded:
Quote:
Marx moved quickly after having wrenched his arm free, assuming he had done so. He pushed off with his right foot now, jabbing his sword out in a straight line. It was aimed well, just above the boy's right pectoral. There wasn't anything serious there, but the pain and bloodless could do quite a bit to a fighter, especially against a Djinn swordsman.
Having ignored the knee attack and trying to undo a move your character committed to, this is the best way to fix this issue.
You guys may continue. Xero, once you edited your post, notify your opponent.
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Posted: Tue Feb 12, 2013 11:49 pm
(( This isn't a dispute, but a statement that I didn't ignore the knee attack. I didn't believe it was relevant to mention because the motion I had made beforehand would have placed Damon out of the way. Anyways. ))
Quote:
Marx moved quickly after having wrenched his arm free, assuming he had done so. He pushed off with his right foot now, jabbing his sword out in a straight line. It was aimed well, just above the boy's right pectoral. There wasn't anything serious there, but the pain and bloodless could do quite a bit to a fighter, especially against a Djinn swordsman.
Through the combined application of what could only be seen as a display of vaguely abnormal strength and tactical motion, Marx had managed to yank his arm free. Damon didn't really know where that sudden burst of strength had come from, but he know figured his opponent wasn't anything human.
Thankfully, the "boy" was actually grown man with plenty of combat experience. He was skilled enough to quickly regain his balance and move himself back into a defensive stance. Both of his hands raised up to chest level, palms open, and his legs at shoulder width and bent slightly. By the time he was in his stance, Marx was charging at him again.
His attack came quickly in the form of a lunging stab for the upper-chest. Not being particularly keen on taking a sword to the chest, even a curved one, Damon stepped to his own left. (since it was mentioned earlier that Marx is left handed). At the exact moment of his dodge, Damon thrust a knife-edge left hand for his opponent.
Telekinetic Force rippled and warped the air between them, as though Damon had cast a stone into water. The shockwave of force rocketed for his opponent, catching up a small bit of very light pebbles and glass into the stream. This was basically all of the energy he had put into reserve for a punch that he never landed. What better time to use it than now? When he had Marx committing himself to a strike.
There wasn't enough focus or concentration in this wave to deal serious damage, but that wasn't the point. What Damon was aiming for was to shut-down his opponents momentum. Letting a guy like Marx, a swordsman, even one of minor skill, get his wind would be a bad idea. Though he had lost his wrist control, he didn't plan to lose control of the match.
And as it was, making Marx react to him instead of getting on the offensive, would eventually allow him to back the guy into a corner. There was only the issue of figuring out what sort of move he would need to completely end this fight.
All eyes were on him, including those of his men. He didn't plan to let them down.
