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Arena!!
Jun 27, 2017 0:53:36 GMT -6
Post by Emil Aurion on Jun 27, 2017 0:53:36 GMT -6
f**k horses, no serious f**k horses. Cowards fight on top of them only to hit and run, real men face their foes toe to toe. How can one show their power over another if they run away after striking them? Emil had hoped to fight somebody head on, a real scrabble in the tournament but the first match hadn't given him that. The last time he had a decent one vs one fight was against Seleena, or whatever that woman's name was. The one that was his "sister", or would have grown up to be if he didn't leave home and became a pirate.
Jeeze, it had felt like ages since he bailed on that woman for the second time and left Etruria to go to Lycia. He had almost forgot his family name since he held no connection to it other than his ties to the sea. His journey had helped him hone his 'in yo face' fighting style, hell most of his combat experience came on a boat where cowards couldn't run away on a horse like this.
Gripping his axe tightly he had waited for the horse to come charging, again. Predictable combat maneuvers honestly, hell he figured if that man came in on his horse he didn't know how to fight off of it. Dismount him and it's a wrap. Suddenly the horse went into the air, almost flying towards him. Emil had took a couple of steps to his right as he started to run before leaping in the same direction, he was creating some distance before swinging his axe to change the direction his body was facing. In an instant he had let go of the axe, sending it hurling towards the horse to catch it before it turned around once again. His body hitting the ground leading into a roll back onto his feet crouching, waiting to see what his foe would do in reaction.
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Arena!!
Jun 29, 2017 15:43:44 GMT -6
Post by vic on Jun 29, 2017 15:43:44 GMT -6
Uh-oh. Victor figured his opponent would try to dodge, but he didn't expect a counterattack like that. He saw the axe fly, and nearly tried to duck or dodge it when he realized that it wasn't aimed at him. It was aimed at his horse. He had no time to try and block it or dodge it at all, not with the horse still trying to turn after that maneuver.
As a result, the moment the horse ended up catching the axe, it whinnied in pain, and threw him off to the side. As he was tossed onto the ground, he coughed, feeling the air rush out of his lungs and the pain from the impact. He had a horse himself, and he knew an injury like the one it just took would be more than likely one that would probably cripple it, and probably result in it being retired. It was a tactic he would have so dearly liked to criticize if it weren't for the sheer hypocrisy involved in doing so (having done similar tactics in the past).
Steadily, though, and painfully, he got back up, determination rushing through him. He could feel the pain in him from the fall still lingering, particularly in his leg, another telltale sign of age. He cursed himself for not at least getting light armor for the horse beforehand. Now he would suffer on the wrong end of the disadvantage. Sooner or later, he had a feeling that the leg was going to give way on him. He was seriously out of practice, and he hated himself right now for that too. Meaning that right now, it was best he played for defense. True, unmounted, he would be much easier to defeat, but so what?
He drew his sword still, determined not to go down without a fight, because St. Elmine help him, he couldn't exactly lecture the youth of today about how they needed more grit if he himself failed to show it, now could he? He held up his hand in a taunting sort of gesture, fully knowing how suicidal that could be right now for him. He then set himself into the position for the 5th of the five forms of sword combat his master had taught him, a style that mainly focused on defending with solid blocks and parries, then immediately countering with strong counterattacks and ripostes, and was geared toward, and created for sword to sword combat, but also still reasonably useful for arrow deflection, and, in this case, dealing with axe users. His plan here was to either try to deflect an arrow or a thrown axe, or go for a powerful counter-slash if his opponent decided to try and rush him.
Of course, once again, no risk, no reward. This would require a good deal of focus to do, something that was difficult to maintain, but he could do at the moment. Everything that happened from here on out would decide if he would win or lose.
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Post by Emil Aurion on Jul 1, 2017 4:22:00 GMT -6
Mid roll he had heard the crowd beginning to boo at him, sure it was considered a deplorable act to some but they hadn't been in life or death situations such as he has. Granted, this tournament wasn't one of those but you cannot change instinct like that. It would be like expecting a bird to fly, a fish to swim, a pirate to play "fair".
Ha! That's exactly what this tournament needed, the guy everyone loves to hate. To play the heel was in Emil's blood, even though he went from pirate to businessman.
He waited for Vic to make the first move while he remained crouched, with his hand on his right boot slowly pulling at something. He was inching up the small axe he kept hidden in his boot, hoping to roll to avoid an attack and taking a swing at Vic's leg with it except there was one problem. Once Vic got to his feet he got in a defensive stance, figures Emil should have saw that coming given his hit and run tactics. Emil pulled the hatchet out and gripped it in his hand and he stood up, his tomahawk laid on the ground near Vic and his horse and his only means to combat a sword was a hatchet.
Emil had expected to be brawling in the pit, which is why he left his bow and arrows behind. He would have given the crowd another reason to hate him, as well as possibly causing Vic to rush him if he brought them. He would pop off a couple of shots at the wounded horse, that surely would have been another tactic to edge the fight towards his favor instead of charging into the fray against somebody waiting for him. Emil began to walk towards Vic trying to create a plan to get his axe and win the fight when he felt something in his pocket. Reaching in he grinned when he realized what it was.
Pulling out his balled up fist he started to move quicker towards him, throwing the sand that filled his pocket as he rolled across the ground just out of sword's reach moving towards his tomahawk.
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Arena!!
Jul 1, 2017 12:52:57 GMT -6
Post by Plot Device on Jul 1, 2017 12:52:57 GMT -6
The announcer watched with a sly smirk on his face. He heard the boos from the crowd after the warrior took down the horse. He knew what the warrior was doing and he was on the same page. Every tournament had a villain. Or at least it had a person the crowd loved to hate. Up to this point he had assumed it was going to be that man with the dark magic sword. But it was clear that the crowd had made up their minds on the warrior. Not to mention the classic pocket sand, which had been used once earlier in the arena. The announcer waved his hands. "Time!"
He made his way into the ring, avoiding the horse on the ground. He didn't want to get kicked or anything by the pained animal. The announcer cut to the chase, he had made up his mind, but he wanted to hear from the crowd either way. "Who would like to see our paladin move on to the next round?" The announcer spoke this next part under his breath. "Even though he'll need a new mount."The crowd spoke their minds.
"Hit and run tactics, classic mounted combat." "At least until you fall from your horse. Isn't that disgraceful or something?" "But he did rise to fight some more, gotta give him that much."
The announcer switched to the warrior. "Who would rather see our remorseless warrior advance?" There was noise, but not quite cheers.
"Dirty tricks from a dirty fighter." "Dirty or not, he did take the man off his horse. The fight was in his favor." "Hmph. I just hope he gets whats coming to him in the next round."
The announcer had to wave his arms to quiet down the crowd's jeers. "Alright, as much as it pains me o say this. Congratulations Emil, you are making it to the next round." The announcer shook his head, feigning sadness. In truth he was happy someone was going to be the bad guy here. He appreciated Emil for taking that role.
"To conclude round one, we have a treat. On one side we have Duma, the swordmaster. But on the other, I imagine you've heard this name before. The Devilslayer himself,Ilheod!" Of course cheers erupted which prompted the announcer to raise an eyebrow. Would this crowd actually be able to view this fight without bias? Time would tell. There was a reason to have the fight after all. For now, the announcer made his way out of the ring, making sure not to get in either of the competitors' way.
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Arena!!
Jul 2, 2017 10:56:52 GMT -6
Post by Duma on Jul 2, 2017 10:56:52 GMT -6
Duma sat in the designated area and waited for his turn. The swordsman had his fill of fun in the arena festivities. He ate several drumsticks and sampled the local mead. Apparently there was a hard cider that was made with apples that he loved. It was a wondrous mash of sour, sweet, and tart. It was refreshing which was good as the weather had been warm and fair.
He enjoyed watching the various fighters in the arena. And he was particularly glad to finally see a Bernese Wyvern in action. In the last few visits he had in Bern the swordsman had not seen a single wyvern. But, now it seemed he would be getting more than his fair share of wyvern sight seeing. His opponent was the Devil Slayer himself.
Now, he knew who Ilheod was. There wasn't anyone in Bern who had not heard of the Devil Slayer himself. A famed wyvern general, slayer of the Sacean Cyclops, and apparently a gargoyle hunter. The swordsman was going to have one hell of a hard time fighting this hero of Bern. He knew wyvern had tough hides and that Ilheod had his own armor made of monster parts. Plus, most wyvern riders used lances in combat, something that as a swordsman he'd have a huge disadvantage against. But, what the swordsman lacked in advantage he'd hope to make up with skill. He saw how that other young swordswoman danced around that other rider despite the advantage. And she managed to progress through to the other round. Perhaps, he could do the same. The crowd played a huge role in determining who advanced. He sighed. He would have to play against his own type as he was not accustomed to fighting while being as flashy as possible. He knew flashiness led to death. The swordsman shook his head and made his way out of the holding area and into the pit.
He had his brave sword in his hand and walked out towards his designated place in the Arena.
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Arena!!
Jul 5, 2017 12:36:46 GMT -6
Post by Ilheod on Jul 5, 2017 12:36:46 GMT -6
It did his heart proud to see Bern in such a high point. Compared to the countries floundering state leading up to the epoch of the rebellion it was such a warming scene. People gathered under the festivities as they were. Primarily, Ilheod had joined the tournament purely out of a patriotic sense. To show the people that even the leaders of their country were in need of revelry. So while most of the fighting had been taking place, Ilheod himself took the time simply to enjoy the peace and...well not quiet, but the peace was nice. Astraeus was already armored in the fairly unique dusky hued armor of the nightwings, and the commander himself was wearing far less formal armor. He couldn't risk any formal ties to the conflicts in the arena. Wearing his armor was a symbol of office and politically his actions could carry weight not intended. Which meant...
He clapped the hardened wrist plate upon his left forearm. Armor constructed from gargoyle bone and hardened leather made from the hides of the winged fiends, by an unamed smith of Sacae as thanks for his deeds in the City of Heroes. He'd worn it on a fair few occasions and the lighter weight yet sturdy nature of the armor allowed him for a comfortable amount of flexibility. After he finished fully arming most of his body, and double checking the straps he turned to his scaled companion and clapped a hand meatily to the great brutes side. Astraeus's large side tremored once as it shook a bit, the sound of gnashing and tearing and crunching puncturing the silence as the previous match came to a close. His own drawing near. The small hollowed out barrel of mutton was nearly empty and the colossal dark blue wyvern was now burrowing his head into it to scrape for the lingering scraps at the bottom. Jaws snapping at the flesh and bone while lifting his head, the barrel rising around it as it tried to eat the rest. The second clap from his rider to its side signaling that snack time however, was over.
Ilheod clasped the curved regal blade of a former comrade, and slid it into the holster along the side of his wyverns saddle after climbing up. The loud clattering of the barrel as Astraeus shook it off was enough confirmation that it was done. In that moment Ilheod had a true appreciation for the sheer size his mount had grown to. Admittedly most wyverns beyond the age of thirty were fairly large, but broaching the size he had was a personal sign that he'd done a decent job raising the wyvern. Not as large as cynderfelt's wyvern fafnir mayhap, but close to giving him competition. In that moment, Ilheod heard the announcer call out his name and kicked into Astraeus's sides. Two heavy wingbeats shot the rider into the sky. Another had them soaring up and over the arena's linings from the outer ring of layered benches.
They flew higher into the sky for a moment, giving him an aerial view of the designated combat zone in full, and Astraeus as well before Ilheod took that moment to press down stomach to back against the wyverns neck and guide him into a descent. Plummeting to the ground with a thunderous crash that shook through the wyverns entire body. Astraeus was of stout nature and good stock, the impact was one he could easily endure though. As the sand settled from the sudden wyvern shaped meteor landing, the wyvern let out a loud shriek like roar before it settled and pivoted its head, examining the swordsman. Ilheod himself took a brief pause to acknowledge the man, lifting the final piece of his armor. The plated mask composed directly from the skull of a deathgoyle, and wrapped the back straps around his neck to fasten it before lifting his spear to signal he was ready to begin.
Astraeus shrieked once more, far louder and then kicked off the ground as heavy wing-beats scattered sand all around. The wind press buffeting the ground as the rider flew upwards before guiding the wyvern down into a mid-dive low along the ground, only a foot and a half or so above the surface while Ilheod spun the regal blade with sharpened edge outwards, intent to knock the swordsman to the ground with the mid-length of the spear. Momentum and force were his ally atop the wyvern and while strapped into the saddle he could rely on putting more force out by pivoting his hips and using the grip from his legs upon his steed to generate better force. As long as wyvern and rider fought as one, he could go beyond the traditional limits of one man. In some ways.
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Arena!!
Jul 7, 2017 10:25:54 GMT -6
Post by Duma on Jul 7, 2017 10:25:54 GMT -6
Duma watched as his opponent made his way over to the arena. This was the first time he had ever seen a wyvern rider up close. Let alone a wyvern rider that was as famous and well armored as the Devil Slayer himself. And it seemed every rumor he had heard was true. He rode a wyvern that was black as night and wore the armor of fallen goyles. Now, Duma knew of goyles. He knew that their skins were harder than most armor with the added benefit of being flexible. Really wished I had a magic weapon like Vincent right about now. Perhaps he should have borrowed it from the white-haired hero. Although, the swordsman himself had no idea the hero was even in the arena, to begin with.
The wyvern before him let out a loud shriek. A shriek that would have forced most people to cover their ears in response. Duma didn’t. He had been in the stands listening to the roar of the crowds since the first match. After the third match, the swordsman shoved pieces of wool into his ears to help mitigate the ear-splitting roar of the crowds. It helped to maintain his cool, calm, and collected appearance. Although the wool didn’t stop Duma from feeling the vibrations of the wyvern’s roar. A piece like that sent a wave through him that forced him to hold his breath momentarily. The swordsman had acquired a healthy respect for the beast in that moment. And knew he had to give the same amount of respect to his rider. But, Duma did not break his gaze with either rider or wyvern. In the few moments it took for both of them to descend into the Arena, Duma had been studying them. Studying the size of the wyvern, the size of the human, the armor, saddle, weapon, and straps that bound them all together. He had an idea on how to approach the wyvern and rider. He just had to hope his idea was a good one and trust in his movements.
The devil slayer guided his mount to rise into the air then into a decent. Duma had seen this before, not with a wyvern but with a falcon. The bird needed the forward momentum to hunt it’s target another bird that was larger than it. Duma raised sword arm up and let his elongated sleeves filter out most of the sand. Once he felt the last bray of the wind along with his sleeve he quickly gripped the sword with both hands. He had a split second to react to the pointy spear that was being swung at him, out of instinct he swung back. The clang of metal on metal rattled through his arms. And he knew the Spearman had the better advantage when it came to strength. So he had to go an alternate route. The moment after both weapons met, Duma pushed himself forward, then quickly downwards. He turned slightly and lunged his body towards an open gap between floor and wyvern. He did a second roll away as a precaution. He (hoped) he put just enough distance to avoid the spearman or the wyvern. At the very least he hoped the wyvern couldn’t turn sharply enough to catch him.
He pulled himself up off the floor. His hair was a dusty mess of arena gravel and sand. Duma quickly fished something out of his pocket. Something that appeared to be a plain satchel bag that had a yellow string on it. Duma quickly crushed its contents in his hands, and tossed it up towards the duo, then immediately raised his sleeved arm up to cover his eyes. The bag erupted in a brilliant flash of light.
(OOC- Let me know if I need to make changes)
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Arena!!
Jul 10, 2017 21:51:06 GMT -6
Post by Ilheod on Jul 10, 2017 21:51:06 GMT -6
The brief resistance from metal clashing hadn't a moment to register before the swordsman peeled away and dipped beneath the monstrous wyvern that flew past to complete the swooping motion. The attack run hit its lowest elevation as Astraeus's claws barely scratched the sand before they began to fly back up into the sky. The wyvern commander's eyes peeled to the sky above as he completed the motion in full and they turned to ascend. His back to the foe the entire time, and in a moment a brief burst of light flashing bright enough from behind to register almost snagged his focus before he forced himself to turn into his wyvern and focus on the climb into the sky. Such was the tactics of aerial to land combat. They had an extra dimension to worry about in their combat, so Ilheod pressed himself closer to Astraeus's neck and the pair flew high into the sky, until they were flying straight up instead of an arc or slope upwards. Ilheod murmured quietly to himself as they began to climb higher still, each furious flap of Astraeus's wings taking them a story or so into the air at a time from the lunge alone.
"Good pacing boy, good pacing."
His tactics were fairly similar in this fight to others, bar attempts to use fatal or lethal blows. Which...made it harder to fight in earnest but it was a challenge he could appreciate. Astraeus turned in the sky, wings catching the currents that caused the thin membrane between bone to swell like bulbous protrusions from the wind filled beneath them before in that hanging silence, Ilheod signaled the dive. This time Astraeus clung his wings to his body inbetween instances of descent. Astraeus soared downwards far faster and curved like a colossal projectile. Ilheod tucked the magic nullifying blade to his side and gripped the wyvern tightly as they dove to directly knock Duma across the Arena. Intent on effectively battering him with Astraeus in a fairly rough attempted direct collision. Utilizing the size of the armored wyvern and descent speed to narrow attempts at evasion.
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Arena!!
Jul 13, 2017 20:32:34 GMT -6
Post by Duma on Jul 13, 2017 20:32:34 GMT -6
The swordsman saw the flash fade from the edges of his sleeves then lowered his arms. He had hoped that the flash bang would have disoriented the massive black wyvern. A disoriented mount would have caused chaos and might have given Duma an opportunity to knock the rider off his mount. But, alas, it seemed that the pair was unaffected by the burst of light. He had to assume that they both closed their eyes at the right moment. Or that one or both were stunned by the light but were exceptionally calm about it. Calm enough to take a smart route upwards into the sky, to a place where his sword arm could not reach.
And so Duma was left on the ground, forced to watch the movements of both man and beast. What now? The swordsman mused to himself as he watched the pair climb higher and higher into the air. The swordsman's eyes gave a quick glance at the battlefield and was disappointed to see it so barren. No cover for him to hide behind or long range weapon to shoot them down with. That made sense, this was the arena. You were only allowed to use what you brought. Another glance at the duo told him that he should probably start running. The massive black creature had tucked in its wings and was descending downwards towards the swordsman.
Duma didn't want to become a pancake so he did the only logical thing he could. He sheathed his blade and started to run. And Run fast. The swordsman ran as fast as his legs could carry him. But, his running wasn't without purpose. He was running towards the wall. And if the wyvern would continue its curved pattern with the intention to ram him, it would run the risk of crashing into the wall as well. He hoped that the pair would change direction at the last moment to avoid hitting the solid stone slabs that held the arena together. From his side holster, Duma pulled out his dagger, he raised it as he ran, so he could use the reflection of the blade to see behind him.
The swordsman was a few inches away from the wall at this point. Dive! Duma's body slid to the ground in a painful frontwards body slide. He was flat on the ground for a few precious moments and hoped that wyvern's legs were just high enough not to hit him. Please hit the wall and not me. --
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Arena!!
Jul 16, 2017 21:34:08 GMT -6
Post by Ilheod on Jul 16, 2017 21:34:08 GMT -6
The moment the swordsman started to sprint for the wall, Ilheod's gaze followed him. It was a safe tactic. When an obstacle large enough to secure an entire direction was present it effectively eliminated a quadrant directionally from the equation. It was easy to know that no danger came from that direction. Something far easier to handle than the traditional situation. Especially against mobile aerial foes. Ilheod however had fought in too many fights, too many fort and castle walls about, to fall victim to a basic rookie mistake of "Couldn't guide my wyvern". As their dive lowered and swiftly crossed the gap, able to easily out pace the speed a man ran on foot, they moved in while Ilheod pulled on the reigns and twisted his body a bit with his left knee lifting and right knee pressing further into the saddle. Shifting his weight and guiding the direction of the dive into a right most arc. As his opponent neared the shadow of the wall Ilheod's mount banked hard to the right and spun a bit, wings heavily flapping like initial drag chutes before using their own force of heavy wingbeats to break the momentum.
Astraeus was able to veer to the right and to the side, before carrying the momentum into another ascent. Ilheod took higher to the skies again as he clasped his spear. This time aligned with the right facing side of the wall. Pointing his spear from above down towards the foe who threw himself to the ground before another descent happened. This time, Ilheod would hit from that particular side and angle so that he lined up to move parallel with the wall. This time, he let out a shout as Astraeus let out a piercing shriek, and swept his lance over his head with every ounce of strenght before trying to use it to scatter aside the swordsman low upon the ground, utilizing the superior reach and control that he had over his techniques and weapon. It wasn't as decisive, but it did assist heavily and for that he was grateful.
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Arena!!
Jul 19, 2017 9:12:52 GMT -6
Post by Plot Device on Jul 19, 2017 9:12:52 GMT -6
This fight was quick, yet rather difficult to track. Shreiks from the wyvern were rather disorienting. Flash beams didn’t help. The announcer was forced to cover his eyes from a bright flash. Many of the crowd did as well. By the time they regained sight, Ilheod was diving from the sky and Duma was moving toward a retaining wall. A number of the crowd in the area cleared out from the vicinity, in case the wyvern crashed through the wall and into the stands. That settled a thought that the announcer was having. The next round would have to take place in the coliseum proper. “Time.” From what the announcer could see, neither contestant landed a solid blow. So it came down to strategy and game plan. It was still up to the crowd though, so the announcer had to ask. “Who wants to see more from our green haired swordmaster?”“Nearly blinded me with that flash beam. Pretty smart though.” “Smart indeed, using that wall to slow down Ilheod and his mount.” “Quick too with those dives and rolls. I’m a fan of that distancing. Not many can handle a Wyvern like that.” The man with purple hair nodded his head. “Who would rather watch Dragon General Ilheod continue to fight?” The announcer listened closely to the fan’s comments. “That wyvern control was fantastic if you ask me.” “The rising and falling action of a flying opponent sure is hard to beat. And he looked super cool as he ascended.” “If it were a fight to the death, my money would be on the dragon general.” But it wasn’t a fight to the death. Entertainment factor was large here, and Duma had made more complex moves, and interesting fighting. The announcer made the call. “Close as it was, Duma is the victor. Congratulations.” He hoped the crowd wouldn’t complain. But it seemed Ilheod was still the people's hero either way. The announcer smiled. “This will conclude the fights for round one. Give your thanks for all of our competitors today! Join us tomorrow in the coliseum for more thrilling combat.” The announcer bowed out to the sound of thunderous applause. In time the sound faded and anticipation for the next day started. The next day had arrived. The announcer stood in the center of the Coliseum. It was a flat ring of sand. No rocks, no grass, no shoreline. Just plain sand for a true test of combat ability. The stands were filled with many of the faces from the day prior. However, there were new faces as well, plenty of them. Word must have spread about the contestants and their fighting abilities. Good news for the announcer, and good news for Bern. ---Next Day--- The announcer held a cone up to his mouth to amplify his speech. He needed to be heard over the background noise of fans in the stands. “Welcome to the second round of Arena combat!” Cheers ensued. “Rules are the same as the previous round, only with an extended time period.” “To kick off the second round, make some noise for our durable novice Siegmund and our quick footed myrmidon Ito.” The announcer made his way out of the arena and into a commentator’s section. He had the intention of using his blowhorn to narrate the fight to those who sat high in the stands and couldn’t see well. He turned his head toward the tunnels that connected to the waiting areas for the fighters. The second round had begun. OOC: Round two takes place one day later, long enough to recover a little from the first round. Contestants now get four posts each. Three day response rule will still be in place. I plan on being less lenient with it than I was in the prior round. As mentioned before, Bern soldiers no longer get a boon for popularity. I understand that the bracket I made was somewhat misleading. For clarification purposes, there will be two winners. One for the lower tier and one for the higher tier. These two can have a fight if they want, but it won’t really amount to anything aside from popularity. Also, I noticed Ars had made a post about being on indefinite leave so if Ito just wants to make one post, that should be enough to move the thread forward. Unless someone is in contact with Ars and knows if he still wants to participate. Bracket:
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Arena!!
Jul 22, 2017 19:16:15 GMT -6
Post by Plot Device on Jul 22, 2017 19:16:15 GMT -6
OOC: No one posted in the allotted time. This results in a double disqualification. This makes the championship round between Kisaragi and Sigma.
Nothing entered the ring. No one stood to amuse the crowd with live combat. The announcer was disappointed. No-shows were to be expected, competitors had business to take care of too. But two no shows in the same round? That was not anticipated. The announcer rose from his space in the stands and descended into the ring. He couldn’t wait any longer, the people wanted to see some combat. It was a shame that things played out this way.
No matter, the announcer gripped his bullhorn with the same gusto as he had demonstrated earlier. “Both Seigmund and Ito have been disqualified on the grounds of absence.” The announcer wore a saddened countenance for a brief moment. However, he regained his enthusiasm when he spoke of the next two competitors. He hoped these two would show up and have a battle worthy of the crowd’s attention.
“It seems as though we have a championship battle on our hands now.” Perhaps it happened a little earlier than expected, but it was still for the championship. A championship fight needed to be hyped up, the announcer only wished he had more time to do so. “Kisaragi.” The announcer bowed his head for a second. “Swordswoman from the plains of Sacae. Please enter the ring.” The crowd cheered wildly for the girl who was once shortly declared a loser.
“Sigma.” Again the announcer bowed his head in respect of the combatant’s prowess. The crowd applauded for the thief who had progressed. “Please enter the ring. I hope you find yourself a worthy opponent.” Not much else needed to be said. Two fighters would enter the ring. One would leave a champion, the other a loser.
“When you are ready.” The announcer returned to his commentating section of the stands. His eyes were focused on the space in the ring. The crowd was chillingly quiet at this point. They were anticipating the combat that would soon ensue. It would certainly be an interesting fight.
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Sigma
Thief
Does anybody care about intelligence work anymore?
Posts: 151
Profession: Spy/Information Broker
Affinity: Anima
Profile: Sigma
OoC Alias: Sigma
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Arena!!
Jul 23, 2017 1:01:12 GMT -6
Post by Sigma on Jul 23, 2017 1:01:12 GMT -6
Both combattants forfeited? But that means... This is the championship battle! I haven't even fought in one serious battle and you're telling me I'm already in the finale? The devil's luck eh? The fight was now going to be in the actual arena, no rocks to hide behind or climb unto like somebody who Sigma was trying to forget... During his downtime, he took the time to clean and resharpen his blades, despite the fact this was a non lethal tournament. Doesn't hurt to be prepared after all... Hearing his name being called, Sigma made sure all of things were well attached to his body. His harness was in place and his lucky headband was neatly attached to his head. Hmm, I'm going to be up against a myrmidon if I remember correctly... I wonder if I should stick to one sword or still use two and hope I can overwhelm her... Heh, I'm not gonna get anywhere like this, better just improvise along the way as always.
Walking out into the sun, he felt the sand shift underneath his boots as surprisinly enough, the crowd was silent. Feeling a bit too intimidated to actually acknowledge the audience, Sigma simply continued walking to the front, staring the young woman who was going to be his opponent. Drawing his kodachi from the sheath on his back, he grinned slightly, noticing both of them were going to use similar weapons. Though, I have something she doesn't! Deciding to go with what he was used to, he also took out the parrying dagger from his harness. At this point, I wonder why I just don't give in and try to learn how to properly use a buckler... Getting into position, he looked at his opponent again. Being the lover of theatrics he was, Sigma decided to give the audience a bit of a show before actually starting. Holding the smaller blade by the of the blade, he tossed the dagger a few feet in the air, only to quickly snatch the spinning iron blade with a swift motion of his right hand.
"Well, time to give these people what they've wanted to see for so long! I hope you're gonna enjoy this as much as me..."
Deciding to attack first, he sprinted towards the Sacaen woman, dagger now hold in reverse in his right hand. with his main blade in his left. Hmm, you know what? I think it's time I put Orcleous's training to good use... As he got near her, he swung his kodachi with the side of the blade towards the sand to try and send it into her eyes. Following that attack, he'd try to bring back the same sword to his right side, this time, aiming her left clavicle with the blunt edge. For now, I hope we'll both be cordial and NOT try to permanently wound ourselves. I use dirty tricks, but maiming is not one of them... Well, at least not in this situation.
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Arena!!
Jul 25, 2017 10:20:24 GMT -6
Post by Plot Device on Jul 25, 2017 10:20:24 GMT -6
OOC: Nayru withdrew Kisaragi. This makes Sigma the champion of the unpromoted tier.
As the announcer remained seated, a man came jogging up to him. As the messenger whispered the new information to him the announcer let out a sigh. He was sorry to hear it but such was life. He rose and called out to the stadium. “May I have your attention please. Kisaragi has chosen to withdraw from the tournament.” He hoped she wasn’t too demoralized from the events of the day before. If he had made the right call in the first place, perhaps they would have a fight to watch here.
“Please congratulate our champion. Sigma!” There was some cheering, but it was rather lack luster. For an understandable reason. These people had shown up to see arena combat in person. All they had gotten today was a couple no-shows and a withdrawal. The default champion still had yet to really compete. “Sigma, if you wish to stick around, we can hold an exhibition fight between yourself and whoever wins the higher tier.” The announcer made the offer, but it was of course Sigma’s decision. Assuming whoever won the promoted tier would also participate. The announcer felt bad that the thief still hadn’t really fought.
But rules are rules and that is how the cards fell on this day. So now all that was left to take care of was the higher tier combatants. It was the announcer’s job to revitalize this crowd and hype up the competitors. They were the headliners after all.
The announcer glanced at the bracket before he descended into the ring. He had to switch gears from the finality of the championship round back to his typical view of the fights. It was the second round. Yeoman versus Berserker. The announcer called to the crowd. “You requested that we see Mizuyuki once more!” The crowd perked up slightly as they recalled the fantastic fight from the day before. “You also called to see the blue buccaneer, Gar!” The crowd called out in various fashions.
“Mizuyuki, Gar. Give us a fight to remember!” The announcer bowed out of the ring.
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Arena!!
Jul 27, 2017 15:11:18 GMT -6
Post by Gar on Jul 27, 2017 15:11:18 GMT -6
Gar woke up early on the morning of the second round. Perhaps the anticipation of his next fight kept him from sleeping in. The cut he had received from Kasimir had been tended to and the night’s rest had helped him heal. There was, however, still a hole in his turquoise coat. Gar paid it no mind for the time being. He eventually made his way to the holding area for the fighters. It was surprisingly empty. He took a seat with closed eyes. The berserker focused on the upcoming fight. He wanted to be in a good mind state.
The second round is always a trap. Once you get past the first, you’re riding high. Then bang. Just like that you’re a loser. We’ll that wasn’t going to happen to Gar. Not today. I have to focus. I have another swordsman to deal with. Swordsmen typically weren’t the type to wait and let you bash through their armor. They were quick, precise, and efficient.
His time to battle came sooner than expected. That wasn’t any problem though. Gar was always ready for a scrap. Gar entered the ring with a wave. He could feel the roar of the crowd. He allowed it to fade into white noise. He was wary about being too much of a showman here.
Gar was scheduled to fight the guy got a win over Vincent. If that was the case, Gar didn’t see any point in holding back. He would have to pull out all the stops. Which of course included taunting. "Another swordsman in dark clothes? Can’t throw a stone without hitting someone like that these days.” Gar chuckled briefly but June put an end to that with a few words.
That man. He carries a sword of corruption.
Gar’s smile faded. He grunted, responding in thought. Is that so?.
He used it in his fight against Vincent. Honestly, I'd sooner see that weapon of darkness smashed to pieces than win this fight. That said, how about we do both? Gar wanted to focus on winning the battle, but June had a point. As far as the berserker was concerned, dark magic was bad news. Always. Letting a powerful fighter wield a blade of darkness unimpeded would be foolish. And Gar's mama didn't raise no fool. Alright then, take out the weapon first, wielder second. There was no doubt in Gar's mind that Xigshaw was strong enough to shatter a weapon. But to do so, Gar couldn’t cushion any blows.
The berserker placed his weapon on the ground. He gripped the cloth around the weapon and pulled. The cloth tore against the axe’s edge. It fluttered to the arena floor, properly revealing Xigshaw. Anyone who knew the weapon could recognize it instantly. Gar hefted the axe upward, assuming his resting stance. His righteous axe sat perched upon his shoulder as an angel.
Gar tilted his chin slightly upward. As if he was beckoning his opponent forward. “Alright swordsman. Let’s see what you got.”
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