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Arena!!
Aug 1, 2017 18:21:19 GMT -6
Post by Plot Device on Aug 1, 2017 18:21:19 GMT -6
Mizuyuki had withdrawn. It was a shame that yet another match had ended in a withdrawal or a disqualification. People were standing up in their seats, voicing their displeasure. If he could the announcer would get new fighters to fill the places of those that had left. But he couldn’t so the announcer resolved himself to keep the entertainment going as it was intended.
“Winner of this round by default, Gar!” The announcer watched as the turquoise clad berserker exited the ring, grumbling his displeasure to himself. The announcer certainly hoped that the berserker would show up for the final round, but even that seemed like a lot to ask at this point.
“It seems as though we may have saved the best fight for last today.” The second round had been a complete bust. Three out of the four fights had been cancelled so it was all riding on the final two competitors to give the audience a reason for even having shown up today.
“Emil and Duma! Please enter the ring. Please give us a fight.” The announcer’s plea hopefully did not fall on deaf ears. The first round went well for the most part, but today’s display would likely cost him his job. After all this, he’d be lucky to get a job commentating in a rinky dink arena in the middle of nowhere.
The announcer shook that thought from his head and tried in probable futility to rile up the crowd. “Quick thinking swordmaster versus brutal warrior. Who will emerge victorious?”
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Arena!!
Aug 2, 2017 20:21:35 GMT -6
Post by Duma on Aug 2, 2017 20:21:35 GMT -6
Now, this was an unexpected turn of events, here he was, round two of the Arena. Not only was he was surprised to even be here, as the swordsman had resigned himself to losing in the first round against the dragon General. But, somehow, he was here. And now his match had come up way sooner than he expected. With a majority of the first combatants in the second round dropping out for unknown reasons.
Duma took a moment to assess the crowd. They were rowdy and understandably upset. The green clad swordsman was also mildly disappointed, he was looking forward to seeing the second round of combatants in action. He was especially curious to see how Mizuki's blade stood up towards the Light magic axe of the blue clad man. He wondered if both magics being the opposite of each other, would cancel each other out. Probably not. He thought to himself as he ran his fingers through his hair.
The green clad swordsman walked out into the arena. Again with his brave-sword and with a new pouch of flash powder. Perhaps this time he'd actually be able to use his brave sword and show off his moves. He certainly hoped he would. But, after watching the last match, he knew this Emil, liked to fight with his fists. He also liked to fight dirty and he'd have to look out for that. Given the track rate of the other competitors. I wonder if he will even show up. Duma shook his head. He better show up. Else, the Arena is going to go into a frenzy.
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Post by Emil Aurion on Aug 3, 2017 4:03:53 GMT -6
Well this was new, they had the rest of the day to just relax. Typically Emil was use to waiting for the next round to start as soon as the first was over. Not saying the chillax period was all bad, gave him time to celebrate his victory.
The morning he woke up with a killer headache, luckily he had found out who he was going to be fighting the day before so he had a general idea of a game plan. Before leaving his room he filled up a couple flask and made his way to the arena. He was going to nurse one of the flask as he waited for his match, but given the number of drop outs he didn't have enough time so he ended up chugging it. With the alcohol he had consumed since the morning and the flask just now he walked in a crazy line towards the entrance to the pit. He placed a hand on the door way as he burped and almost felt his liquid breakfast come back up. He entered the arena to boos, in response he stuck both arms in the air showing the crowd what he thought was the national bird of the Ilse. Stumbling his way to the center and lowered his arms as he eyed the swordman in front of him.
"Weird. I thought I wash fightin a shwordshman, not a shwordshwoman. Oh well, I don't mind shwingin at a girl." reaching behind himself he pulled his axe and held it with both hands in front of him.
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Arena!!
Aug 3, 2017 20:41:08 GMT -6
Post by Duma on Aug 3, 2017 20:41:08 GMT -6
And he shows up drunk! Duma thought to himself as he gazed at the swaying man in front of him. Seriously?! He knew people had their vices, but this was just plain stupid. One should not be drunk in the middle of battle. Booze slows reactions and causes death. He had that lesson drilled into his skull early on thanks to his parents. His mother was adamant on not drinking any sort of alcohol before any job. Duma let out an annoyed sigh. He flipped his sword around so that the blunt edge would be doing most of the damage. Accidentally murdering a drunkard in a match that was supposed to be non-lethal would leave a terrible taste in his mouth. Not to mention would probably lead to his arrest. Duma shrugged off the comment about him looking like a woman in the eyes of a drunk. This wouldn't exactly be the first time someone had made that mistake.
"You are drunk. Are sure you are fit for battle?" Duma took a stance as he asked. He wanted to give the man a chance to realize how much of a bad idea this was. A chance to avoid getting hurt or embarrassed in front of hundreds of on lookers.
"You could forfeit now and save yourself a larger headache later." Duma knew this man was going to have a massive hang over later. He kept his gaze focused on the man in front of him. Part of him wondered if this was all some sort of a ruse. But, then the scent of strong liquor hit his nose. No, don't let your guard down. Wait for him to make the first move.
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Arena!!
Aug 5, 2017 15:30:01 GMT -6
Post by Emil Aurion on Aug 5, 2017 15:30:01 GMT -6
"Shurrender? Ain't know what that word meansh." ... Hic! People claim you have poor judgement while intoxicated but the person in front of him seemed to be sober and didn't sound like they wasn't in their right mind.
A while back, like a long time ago, Emil had fought some guy who used a fighting style called 'drunkin boxin', landin a blow on him was a pain in the ass. Readin his movements was difficult due to the unpredictable swaying and that left hook, man did that hurt. The sword fighters he encountered in the past was faster than him, much faster. While Emil had some power behind his blows, it lacked the speed to keep up so his strategy was simple. The less predictable Emil was, more likely Duma's attacks would wiff him.
Lowering his guard some, he released the axe with one had while lowering it to the ground. Using his free hand he pulled his second flask out from behind him and popped the lid open with his thumb. "No rishk, no reward eh?" taking a quick swig finishing it with an 'ahhhhhhh' he took another, this time not swallowing it. Flipping the lid back on and tightening it before putting it back, it seemed he was going to have to make the first move after all. He began moving towards Duma, his pace wasn't fast but it wasn't slow. A brisk walk at best, swaying with each step. Normally he would focus more to keep his movements in check, but not today. Before he got in range for either to attack he took a much larger step while swaying towards his right swinging his large axe upwards at a digital, if the attack was to land a blow it would hit Duma from his left thigh to his right shoulder.
(Where the attack is going to hit is more so to give you an idea of where it's going than saying where it would hit)
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Post by Duma on Aug 8, 2017 6:12:18 GMT -6
The swordsman mentally sighed. He probably should have taken advantage of the drunkards stunt to drink and smacked the flask out of his hand with his blade. Duma didn't, he was going to be a gentleman about this and wait for the man to make his move. The swordsman took a deep breath in and focused. When Emil walked forward and swung Duma moved quickly. He blocked the diagonal strike with one of his own. A hard good smack with his sword to disrupt the momentum of the axe. Then the swordsman took a few steps forward and one horizontal strike. Meant for the man's belly. The sword was on its reverse edge so the stone would be non fatal. After that slash across he stopped for a half second, flicked his wrist to ensure the blade would be on its blunt edge, and brought the blade upwards. A diagonal struck from his hip up towards the man's chest. He had to thank the lightness of the sword in order to make quick strikes like that.
Afterwards he jumped back a few steps so that he was, hopefully, out of range of the man's free arm. The swordsman let out a breath through his nostrils and lifted the sword again. He took the same defensive stance as when he started. The mullet man knew that this Emil was made of tough stuff. And he suspected that the drunken warrior wouldn't go down easily. His experiences with Perun have taught him that much.
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Arena!!
Aug 11, 2017 13:39:56 GMT -6
Post by Emil Aurion on Aug 11, 2017 13:39:56 GMT -6
Did he just strike him with the blunt end of the sword in the armor? Even if you can't kill the other person you should at least expect injury using battle ready weapons, not pull your punches.
Emil stumbled backwards when he was hit, Emil would have laughed at Duma hitting and running like that but he was avoiding opening his mouth. This would also be the time he'd throw another insult if he could.
Gripping his axe tight in both hands he began to focus hard than before. He started to charge towards Duma, after a couple steps his swaying had stopped. Emil had took to the air and should be landing near Duma, swinging his axe downwards as he approached the ground.
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Arena!!
Aug 13, 2017 19:58:09 GMT -6
via mobile
Post by Duma on Aug 13, 2017 19:58:09 GMT -6
The swordsman focused his energy towards his blade. He saw the warrior jump up and come down, axe in hand. This drunken bastard didn't have enough sense in him to turn the axe over. This was all supposed to be non-lethal. He channeled his energy into his blade and waited for the opportune moment.
He jumped back and let the drunken man crash to the ground. He stepped forward and gave two quick slashes in an X shaped pattern. He exhaled on the last stroke, and released the energy he had focused in his blade. He gripped the hilt with both hands, swung so fast that it felt like his X shaped blow was more like an asterisk.(adept 2 used)
He took a step back and breathed heavily. His hidden strokes always took a toll on his body. He had to hope that his strikes had hit the drunk in areas where his armor wasn't.
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Arena!!
Aug 16, 2017 22:57:17 GMT -6
Post by Emil Aurion on Aug 16, 2017 22:57:17 GMT -6
Emil had known his attack was a high risk, high reward as well as extremely punishable if it had failed. He had loosened his grip on his axe, waiting to see Duma's next action which was a step forward.
With his body already low it had also meant it would be easy to guess where the attack would be coming from, letting go of the handle he had rolled backwards. By the time he was on his feet he had saw the end of Duma's attack. Emil had smirked as he stood up straight, some what wobbly, dodged that like a champ, which what he planned on proving to everyone by the end of this tournament. This was his second match and much like the first one he didn't have his weapon and it was next to his for and he was sure a sand attack wouldn't work twice. He did know he would need some kind of faint to get the upper hand.
Either Duma wasn't taking the fight serious because he was intoxicated or he was scared. That was going to be something he would have to figure out on the fly. He had figured if he rushed the swordsman and keep the distance between the two extremely short the sword would become in effective. Firstly he would have to get close enough while making it difficult to hit, mimicking the 'drunkin master' he fought before he moved towards Duma swaying wide, then short while making a zig zag pattern. Once he was close enough he leaned towards the right, turned his head towards Duma and spat out the alcohol in his mouth in Duma's face while throwing an upper cut with his right fist.
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Arena!!
Sept 23, 2017 1:26:31 GMT -6
Post by Plot Device on Sept 23, 2017 1:26:31 GMT -6
The two combatants battled. One was drunk and the other was aware of that fact. The announcer was worried. He knew Emil was going to be a problem, but not one such as this. The battle evolved in a fashion that the announcer could have predicted.
"Well then." The announcer waved his hands above his head. "It seems as if this one has decided itself." The announcer should have anticipated such an occurrence from the heel of the show. Emil had shown up drunk and got beat. Even so, the ex pirate put up an impressive fight.
"We all should recognize this as an honorable duel." The announcer cleared his throat while eyeing Emil. He sure hoped his ruling wouldn't hurt him in the long run. "Not a tavern brawl." The announcer winked at Emil.
"Duma! You are the victor. Please prepare to fight Gar." Since the majority of the other combatants had left early, this was the money maker. This fight could make or break this festival. Hell, it could make or break the country as far as the announcer was concerned. This fight was going to happen immediately. It was an unfortunate circumstance for Duma. But such was life.
"Gar! Please ready yourself!" The announcer raised a hand as the turquoise clad berserker stepped into the arena. Cheers and applause met the man's appearance. The announcer made another open palmed flourish.
"Duma! Your challenger has arrived!" More applause and more tension built. "Please begin when you are ready." The announcer bowed out, allowing the final two competitors to begin once they were ready.
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Arena!!
Sept 24, 2017 18:06:39 GMT -6
Post by Duma on Sept 24, 2017 18:06:39 GMT -6
Duma was both livid and disgusted by the drunken man's actions. He never tolerated anyone spitting into his face. He found it both disgusting and disrespectful. And if the announcer hadn't declared the match to be over, he would have chopped off one of Emil's limbs right then and there. Consequences be damned. And the uppercut didn't help him much. It connected that much was sure. Duma managed to keep himself up on his feet, but he curled over a bit. He lacked the fabled "rock hard" abs and thus the punch to the gut hurt. Hurt enough to almost barf up his breakfast, which thankfully he didn't. The swordsman sheathed his sword and took several paces back. Once he felt comfortable and calm enough. The mullet headed man used his sleeve to wipe away the vulgar liquid off of his face. He glanced up and glared at Emil for a moment before returning his focus on the events at hand.
Apparently, the swordsman had won the bout. Somehow. He was certain the crowd favorite was Emil. Duma shook his head, he kept a hand up, with an open palm. The announcer said to start when ready and he was NOT ready. The swordsman took a deep breath in. His whole gut section felt as if he had gotten punched again. He was going to be sore. He was going to be slow. He was going to regret jumping into this battle so soon after the last one. If he had known he would be thrown back into the fray so suddenly then maybe, MAYBE, he wouldn't have used his trump card. His skill for hidden blows. A skill that cost him a considerable amount of energy and concentration to pull off. He took another deep breath.
"Steel yourself, Duma. Steel yourself." He whispered to himself. You've been in worse spots than this. He eventually pulled himself up and started to breathe normally. The pain in his gut subsided to some degree. And he made sure to wipe himself down once more with his sleeve. The scent of booze assailed his nose with each breath. It was a sickening scent considering its origins. But, he did not have any water to wash it off with. Or any scented oil to mask it with. More things to complicate his current position in life, wonderful!
He took a few more moments to recover himself before he finally lowered his hand. He redrew his blade and took on a stance. He did his best to keep his expression calm. He needed to focus. Focus. Focus. New target. New style. And so he waited for Gar to make the first strike.
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Arena!!
Sept 26, 2017 14:48:00 GMT -6
Post by Gar on Sept 26, 2017 14:48:00 GMT -6
Of all the damned luck. The two competitors that Gar had known before the arena had started had lost. Vincent and Emil. They both would’ve been a good test to see how much Gar had grown. However, that wouldn’t happen. Vincent got beat by some dark sword wielder. The fact that the victor didn’t even decide to show up to fight, made Gar even more annoyed. To make matters worse, Emil decided it would be a good idea to show up drunk and also lost to a swordsman. Gar shrugged. Maybe it was all good luck in disguise.
Gar entered the arena. Apparently, this fight was being rushed. It was a shame for his opponent. Gar didn’t want to take advantage of the situation so he gave the man ample time to recover. June, Xigshaw sat on the berserker’s shoulder. Gar’s eyes traced the opponent. Something about the man’s appearance struck the berserker with familiarity. Gar couldn’t place it, but he thought it may be the hair.
Gar continued taking in information. Swordsman through and through. He had the build for it, not to mention he only carried the one type of weapon. To be placed across from Gar in any type of fair fight, this had to be a swordmaster. Duma wasn't the first swordmaster that Gar had faced and he won't be the last. That didn't make the bout any more favorable though, swordmasters were the quick, slippery type. But they weren't too durable. No one was against Gar and his axe.
Duma stood, allowing the tension to grow. Gar also waited, he would feed off this tension. Gar was standing opposed to a man that wanted to cut him down, it was inspiring. Duma was giving him the first strike. The berserker took that to mean he was up against a reactionary fighter. Best offense is a good defense. Or was it the other way around? Gar was going to find out with a offensive burst right from the start.
Shall we commence? The large weapon briefly let out a pulse of light.
Gar let hot air escape from his lungs. Aye.
[Celerity] The captain charged, both his hands gripping his weapon. He was tearing through the sand at top speed. Gar was intending to make this man regret giving him the first move. At the very least he would put this swordsman on his heels early. Swordmasters can’t dance around his strike so easily when they’re backpedaling.
Once Gar was in range, he dropped a strength boosted vertical strike. The axe descended toward the foes shoulder. Gar’s eyes were active, searching for the anticipated counterstrike. Where was it coming from? How would Gar get past it?
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Arena!!
Sept 29, 2017 19:14:47 GMT -6
Post by Duma on Sept 29, 2017 19:14:47 GMT -6
Duma kept his gaze focused on the ax man in front of him. There was something to him. Something that Duma couldn't quite put his finger on. He knew the axe had some sort of magic to it but he didn't know what. He watched and waited. Waited for the man to charge at him so he can judge his movements and plan accordingly. But, that didn't happen. The planning part didn't happen. Because by the time he knew it the man with the ax was standing right in front of him.
S*it he's fast! The swordsman thought to himself as he suddenly found himself on the wrong end of an axe swing. A vertical strike meant to hit his shoulder. Duma had been in this situation several times before. He didn't make it this far in his life being a swordmaster for nothing. He knew how to dodge. He knew how to move. And almost out of pure instinct his felt his feet move him. He didn't backpedal like most would. No, he knew how to use the enemy's movement's against him. He did one step back, leaned on his heels a bit, and side spun his way, away from the swing. He was nearly a hair too late. He felt the swing's breeze across his body. The swordsman silently thanked the skies for his swift footwork.
Now, he had to think of a counter attack. Something that would both be effective in this situation and maybe earn him some brownie points with the audience. Okay, maybe not that last one. But, he had to do something. The fancy footwork put him a position where he was alongside the ax man. No time for fancy swings. Don't waste the opportunity. Just swing!
He gripped his sword and swung. He swung upwards once. A plain simple horizontal strike upwards, he then moved his arm towards the right, and struck downwards in another strike. --
OOC let me know if I need to edit.
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Arena!!
Oct 2, 2017 13:48:37 GMT -6
Post by Gar on Oct 2, 2017 13:48:37 GMT -6
Duma replied to Gar's initial attack by spinning to the side. Gar would've pursued the charge, but the counterattack came too quickly. It was a rising strike that started at the side. Gar's momentum was carrying him downward, he sprawled his legs out backward and hit the deck, dipping underneath the strike before it could do damage. However, Gar was on the floor, and he had lost his speed advantage in a matter of instants.
To further compound Gar's defensive situation, the swordsman made a follow up attack that descended quickly upon him. The captain flipped onto his back while bringing his pulsing axe arcing above his body. The axe left a trail of hardlight above the berserker, turning him into some type of light turtle. Gar briefly considered his situation while he laid on his back beneath the light shield.
His opponent had quick reactions and follow-ups. If Gar was too aggressive he would certainly be punished. So his best bet would be to play defensively until he was certain he would be able to land a decisive hit. That said, he would still need to find a way out of his inverted turtle position and get back to his feet. Gar developed a plan for that.
He would have to time the light shield's duration perfectly to ensure he could get back to his feet without a risk of an undefended attack coming from the opponent. Gar probably had the advantage on that front, but he still didn't have the timing quite down. But for now it was time to play a waiting game.
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Arena!!
Oct 4, 2017 20:17:07 GMT -6
Post by Duma on Oct 4, 2017 20:17:07 GMT -6
Duma's sword clanged against the ax-man's magic shield. So, this was the type of magic that was forged into the axe. Light magic. One of Duma's least favorite magics, mostly due to its association with Eturia and the horror it had become. His arm rattled with the after the shock of the impact, the swordsman took a step back and braced himself for his opponent's movement. But, the burly sailor did not move. This gave Duma some valuable information. It showed to him that the sailor was not dumb. Duma knew that his opponent knew, his movements would be met with distinct counters. And Duma knew that the sailor was on a timer.
Duma knew the magic axe couldn't keep up the shield for very long. He knew of magic. He knew how mages cast their magic. How magic was tied to its wielder. How it cost it's wielder both time and energy for it to be effectively used. Time and energy the man on his back didn't have. Time because this was an arena match. And energy because Duma knew the sailor had used quite a bit of it up in his fast charge. Duma took another step back so he was a safe distance away. His gaze on the man on the floor. He changed his grip briefly. One hand on his sword hilt and another went into his pocket. The pouch of instant light magic was pulled out and the swordsman hooked the string of it through his fingers. He returned his hand back to his sword and resumed the two-handed defensive grip. And it was here that he noticed the bag had a hole in it. A mysterious sandy powder was seeping out of the bag and rendered the contents useless. Damn it. He manipulated his fingers and let the bag drop. So much for that plan. He did still have a dagger on him. But, the movement to actually get it would deter his gaze for a moment. He didn't take that chance. Instead, he just stood and waited. Waited for the man to make his move.
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