Open Chronicles L-l-l-let's Get Ready to Rumble!

[Aeyliea]

Sharp eyes, one with the blade on her hand, with the one in his as well. She could not miss his decision to dual wield,would not fault him for it, and prepared for the work she would have to do to keep either of the seeking blades from her fle-

A misstep. The ground beneath her shifted treacherously as she made to parry both strikes with simple movements, mostly wrist work and a little footwork as well. It was not to be.

His blade struck, although far enough from her core that it could not be fatal. She could hear the popping of metal rings, feel as leather and metal pressed painfully against the flesh of the eight side of her abdomen, and ultimately the unsettling ripping sensation as the point scored a deep gouge through flesh, trailing links of mail.

She rolled with the blade, helpless to do otherwise, and his overhand blow struck across her right shoulder, jarring her loose of his blade and numbing the arm to the fingertips.

Aeyliea staggered back from both hits, somehow retaining her feet. Liquid heat spread from the wound,but mental training made the pain someone else's, the heat leaking from her another's problem to deal with as well. All from a simple misstep, or poor luck.

Ignoring her injuries or the insensate arm, she went back into a stance, though a decidedly defensive one. She had lost this match, it would just take time to reach the inevitable conclusion.

 

[childish brandino]

A few loose strands of hair hung over Kishou's sweaty, bloody face. His hawkish eyes narrowed further at the sight of Aeyliea. He took a few steps towards her, and as he approached, he slid the scabbard back into his sash. Now gripped with both hands, the point of his sword was again aimed at Aeyliea. With a short lunge and swift preparatory motion, he raised his sword above his head and slashed down at the injured swordswoman.

 

[Aeyliea]

There would be no yielding.

Pins and needles creeped into one arm, but she did not need both to defend herself. She easily sidestepped his lunge, not needing to use her blade at all. The overhand blow was easy to read, easy to anticipate.

She changed the angle of her blade, stepping back and accepting the strike as she had before, bearing some of the brunt and shunting the rest aside, pushing his blade outwards though it stung to do so. A nifty maneuver later, and she was swinging her blade, but rather than overhand or horizontal, it was underhanded, aiming for an unprotected flank. A swift strike that lacked the force necessary to cleave him from hip to clavicle, but certainly not light. There was a disdainful light in her eyes, a sneering disbelief that he thought the match over.

Blood seeped into her leather tunic, and into her pants, slicking her skin. Someone ekses blood, someone else's pain.

For now.

 

[childish brandino]

He hadn't expected her to deflect his strike so easily. He knew he struck her arm well and thought he could exploit it. Foolishly, he grew overconfident, and he would pay. If he had not so readily stowed his scabbard away, he would turn to face her and attempt to meet the blow. Instead, he used his own misdirected momentum to take another step forward. Instead of his side, the long edge of her blade tore the cloth on his back and the flesh under it. A diagonal gash opened up on his back, and blood immediately seeped from the wound and stained his garbs red. He gasped, shocked by the sudden sensation of a foreign object splitting his skin. It did not feel terribly deep, yet it most definitely was not shallow. He wasted no time turning to her, sword at the ready.

He composed himself as well as he could. His nose and now back screamed at him as if reprimanding him for his foolish errors. Quickly, he closed the distance, warding off the pain as he did so. He feinted a downward slash and using the motion of his sword instead delivered a swift, compact thrust.

Unconsciously, a wide, bloody grin stretched across his face.

 

[Arumi Shacen]

His kick made contact and the force of it reverberated through his chest, but that pain was nothing compared to the blade stabbing into the meat of his thigh. Arumi swore violently and pulled his leg back, pivoting and using his wings for balance as he did so to avoid her second thrust.

His empty hand pressed against his leg where blood was quickly staining his pants. At least she had not severed an artery. How was this human so quick? It made no sense.

Arumi released his thigh to grasp the trident in both hands. Flames licked from his fingers up the length of the shaft, without actually making contact with the wooden handle, and engulfed the three-pronged head. He bent his knees and shifted his weight as if he were about to dodge to the right, the feinted left. The winged man jabbed the weapon at the woman, aiming to stab her in the torso, then retracted it swiftly and swung the trident in a wide arc, trying to take out her legs, or at least set her clothes aflame.

Ermengarde

((OOC: Sorry for the late reply! Thanksgiving weekend here in Canada. ))

 

[Matari NoTail]

“Just what I fuckin- Gimme that!” Matari complained as he stepped out from the inside workings of the ring and into the sunlight, a small hiss of pain coming from the masked Kitsune, and he spotted his axe being carted away. With a wave of his hand, the large weapon flew into his grasp once more, and despite the glaring light he felt a little better. Now if only he’d known about the rules and their workarounds, so he would have avoided getting started on his drink.

His knee still twinged at the sight of the blood on the sand, more specifically his and Grozkalla’s, and he grinned a little. A good fight, he had to admit, but he wasn’t gonna be quick on the rematch. Damn near killed him, and he wasn’t gonna die till people got what was coming for them. Blinking, he shook his head and decided to focus on the present and not the past, looking around for a... ‘T’suris Flameblade’. Fancy, and weird sounding. That means... yep. Komodi.

Slitted red looked towards the deep blue eyes of his opponent from behind his mask, as the Kitsune hefted the large axe. “Look mate, I know yer gonna say no, but I just started on the booze. So if you could give up, we can go grab a drink together, yeah?” He offered, already bringing his axe into a shorthanded grip. Prettyboy here seemed to be the more agile type of fighter.

 

[Aeyliea]

Using the blade, one hand coming free to grip it along the blunt edge to add stability as she caught and redirected the strike, parrying it as smoothly as before. She could feel blood running down her leg in thick, heavy flows, but put it from her mind for the moment. No time to assess the wound, which was just as well. Pink bone of the hip showed, only fleeting glimpses as she twisted.

She saw his smile, and could not reciprocate though she wished she could. She was in a cold, cold place. No emotion, only the reflexive, instinctive flow of the blade in her hand.

She pushed hard with the hand still in the hilt, and then sliding her hand along the back of the blade to the hilt to guide it, speared towards his legs with the tip.

 

[T’suris Flameblade]

T'suris glared at the fox child at first, annoyed at the potential to miss another fight, but that glare turned into a small smirk as amusement began dancing in his dark eyes.

"You're not so drunk - yet," T'suris remarked, glancing at the kitsune's axe: a heftier weapon than a sword - and one T'suris wasn't sure he could beat with this spear. A mace would have been a better choice - but the weapons rack was on the other side of the kitsune, much to T'suris's annoyance.

"If you win, drinks on are me," he said, lifting his spear and holding it loosely in one clawed hand, his tail swishing slowly behind him.

"If I win," he tipped his chin down as if in a small nod, "drinks are on you."

With that, T'suris placed his spear in both hands. He dug his clawed feet into the sand, bracing as he launched towards his masked opponent, aiming for Matari NoTail 's ribs.

 

[Matari NoTail]

Matari tilted his head and shrugged his shoulders at Flameblade’s words. “Fuck it, I suppose I can get behind tha-“ He began, before his eyes widened and he felt the wind once again come to his aid and boost his speed once more, his mana having regenerated. A clang ran out into the air as he swiped his axe, colliding with the spear that had been thrust at his ribs and just barely deflecting it off to the right. Blood trickled from a light cut upon his bare chest, and the demi-kitsune grinned.

“Cheeky bastard.” He grunted as the axe swivelled impossibly within his palm to point back down towards his opponent’s body, and he brought the large weapon slashing down through the air. These sorts of opponents were far easier to fight than the walking walls of meat that Grozkalla fought like. Matari should know. He was one of them.

 

[T’suris Flameblade]

Dark blue eyes glared intently as the axe swung towards spear, the crowd erupting as their weapons clashed. Matari's grin was infectious - T'suris couldn't help but feel the corners of his lips turn in response.

Yes, this is what he had been looking for.

"I'll take that as a compliment," T'suris retorted just as the axe came towards him. He had been called worse, after all. He had barely enough time to shift his weight out of reach of the axe - at least, he thought he had missed it. A sudden sting in his shoulder told him he hadn't been completely successful. He heard the crowd continuing to cheer just as he heard the Komodi behind him grow quiet. It may have been difficult for the humans in the crowd to see the blood against his dark scales, but the Komodi in the stands could smell it in the air, even mingled with the blood of all the others.

The crowd roared again as T'suris swept his spear back towards Matari NoTail , slashing high, going for the neck, even as he planted one foot closer to his opponent, swinging his tail low to trip the kitsune.

 

[Matari NoTail]

Against a normal human, T’suris’ ploy would have worked. But Matari had grown up with people that fought with tails, and as the spear darted towards him he saw the move coming from a mile away and leaned back to allow the spear to flash just before his neck, whilst his feet lifted from the ground. His body tilted in the air and the tail swiped past harmlessly across the sand of the arena. His feet collided with the body of the Komodi, pushing off of him to get some distance.

“While i’m curious,” Matari began as he set down upon the sand again, feet kicking up sand, “I’m not gonna hang around and find out why you’re called ‘Flameblade’.” His hand came up in a wave as he expended mana for a trick he’d come up with last time, and Tsuris’ head was enveloped in an illusory orb of pitch black, as fake footsteps sounded in his ears.

“Right.” Matari cracked his neck, feeling the slight mana drain as he stepped forward with his axe. “Lets try this again.”

 

[T’suris Flameblade]

Genuine surprise blinked in his eyes as T'suris felt his spear hit nothing but air - at the same time his tail did nothing but brush the bloody sand. He had no time to react as Matari NoTail 's feet collided with his side, throwing the Komodi off balance and pushing him into the sand. His surprise quickly turned to hyper-awareness and he shifted even as he fell, ending up on one knee as he swung his spear out to the side to regain his balance. The crowd screamed in delight - the kitsune was obviously a crowd-pleaser.

That will leave a bruise later, T'suris thought with a grumble, if he hasn't already broken a rib.

Just as he lost his vision.

Panic set in, hot and frantic, his mind whirling as his sight was robbed. T'suris caught himself and breathed deeply, working his system to calm - when he realized that, yes, he likely did have a broken rib. He pushed himself back on his knees. Without thinking, he hurled the spear at the location he had last seen the short humanoid - it was stupid, of course, it made no sense for the spikey-haired kitsune to remain in that spot. T'suris reached for his twin scimitars at his hips - even without his sight he knew where they were, could feel their weight against his skin.

"What can I say?" T'suris said as he crouched, slowly back away from the sound of the footsteps. Something about them felt, off, wrong - the steps were almost too loud in his ears....

"It's a family name."

He gripped the hilts of his scimitars, waiting, bracing for another sound, another scent...

 

[Matari NoTail]

“Ah, fuck!” Matari yelled out as he twisted to avoid the spear. Who the fuck throws their weapon when they’re blind? Sure, it worked as evidenced by the chunk of his side missing, blood seeping from between his fingers as he grit his teeth and lifted his hand from the wound. Aint that some shit?

Glancing back up towards the komodi, he saw him drawing a pair of scimitars. No doubt listening and trying to sniff him out. That was fine. Such weapons didnt have the range needed when compared his his axe anyway, two could play at the throwing game.

Stretching backwards, his axe over his shoulder and down his back, Matari put all his force into throwing his large weapon at the crouching Komodi.

 

[childish brandino]

His smile twisted into a grimace as her sword penetrated deep into his left thigh. He turned his leg at the last moment to avoid damage to the femoral artery. With her sword still in his leg, he reached out and grasped any loose clothing his fingers would reach. He mustered as much strength as he could to yank her close while simultaneously leaning in to bash his forehead against hers.

He did not abandon his sword despite them being in a range where swords would be mostly ineffective. To Kishou, dropping his sword would be the same as admitting defeat, and he did not wish for his time with Aeyliea to end so soon. He firmly gripped the sword in his right hand, as if waiting for an opportunity to lash out with it.

 

[Ermengarde]

(s'fine, )

The first thrust she deflected with her guard, but the scalding heat made her disengage before even being able to use leverage to redirect the weapon. For now preffering to widen the distance from him between the thrust and the swipe.

 

[Arumi Shacen]

While the maneuver hadn't achieved what he had planned, his weapon failing to make contact, Arumi saw his opportunities open. The woman was still human, after all. She could burn. She would burn.

He pressed his advantage as she backed away from him. He leapt toward her, strong wings driving him forward. The flames dancing around the trident caused the tines to become red-hot. The stabbed at her thrice, attacking her one-armed side, trying to force her to continue backing, or else risk being stabbed or burned; the first jab went to her face, attempting to make her flinch, the second to her legs, to either trip her or set her silly cloak on fire, and the third thrust was to her stomach. Each movement was snapping quick and resulted in a twist at the withdraw, so he might catch Ermengarde 's sword if she parried or deflected again.

Loose curls had escaped from the bun of his midnight hair and were sticking to his forehead where sweat was beading. The blood stain on his thigh continued to spread, and he favoured the leg, but was lucky enough to still be able to bear some weight without overwhelming agony. He would finish this fight, and he would seek one of those Powers Forsaken mage healers who had ignored him after the first round.

 

[Ermengarde]

Ermengarde would continue backing off with each attack, but still getting her weapon once entangled in a twist. With a movement of the wrist and lower arm, the sleek rapier got loose as quickly as it got caught.

She threathned Arumi with a few feints to keep the distance, fully disengaging in the process. Her process lossned and went upright.
Perhaps she was bored, or maybe she just knew that most of the competitors left were superhuman in nature anyway.
»I forfeit.«

 

[T’suris Flameblade]

"Quite the trick," T'suris said with a smirk, as if trying to trick himself into more confidence than he felt.

Nervousness had set in - the sound of Matari's footsteps neither got closer nor did they retreat. T'suris continued to appraise the soft crunching in the sand, but something was off, something was wrong - and he had heard the kitsune curse from further across the arena. How long could the magic-wielder keep the blinding spell up, anyways? T'suris knew embarrassingly little about magic, despite his heritage, and cursed himself for not looking into it further, if only so he could defend himself or try to get out of the spell. Was such a thing even possible? The footsteps he heard and the voice he heard came from different locations - but which one was the right one? or were they both fake? T'suris cursed his own ignorance.

He raised his scimitars up a little, moving out of his crouch and began circling -

"You'll have to teach it to m-"

- just in time to be ripped from his feet.

Dazed, confused, and plastered with blood-soaked grit, T'suris shook his head, spitting sand. He'd gone down, hard, spinning as he went - the small part of him that wasn't in shock knew that. He felt liquid warmth drain down his chest, his arm, and his shoulder under his armour. His right sword-arm ached as if from a blow, and his left arm was slick with hot liquid. A little voice in the back of his mind told him he would have been dead if not for his armour - and his scales - and that something had plowed into his right arm and cut him across the chest, shoulder, and arm.

An axe.

Matari's axe.

Did that tiny man actually throw his ridiculously huge axe?!

T'suris shook his head again, forcing himself to stand, sniffing the air for a scent, moving without thinking, moving before the shock had time to wear off and the pain really set in. He knew in that moment that Matari NoTail was without a weapon - and he rushed towards that scent, raising his aching but still mobile right arm, intending to plow into the foxchild to take him down.

 

[Arumi Shacen]

That was it?

Arumi swung the trident upright and planted the butt of it in the sand, eyes narrowing at Ermengarde. The flames dissipated from around the weapon. He waited several seconds to ensure she wasn't playing false, but her weapon stayed down and she made no further moves against him. He hadn't landed a single hit in the attack, hadn't singed a single stupid hair on her head, and she forfeit? Humans were pathetic.

He spat in the sand at her feet, sneering, then turned and limped away, using the shaft of the trident to reduce the weight on his profusely bleeding leg. It was time to find those mage healers.

((OOC: Thanks for the fight Ermengarde ! ))

 

[Szesh]

( J'Darak Moghahk )

Szesh stared down his opponent, but no move was made. The orc was loud enough, to be sure, but he was not charging forward. It appeared that Szesh would need to be the aggressor. They were both large, but he still did not relish the thought of close combat with this creature. J’Darak’s axe was immense and looked like it could easily cleave Szesh’s spear in two. Blocking was out of the question.

Szesh moved forwards at a brisk walk, keeping his spear at the ready, watching his opponent carefully. Breaking into a run, he roared again and charged. Using his wings to propel him upwards, he leapt forwards more than ten meters and landed in front of the black orc, thrusting out his spear as he did so. He was just barely in range, making use of his spear’s reach to keep out of the way of that axe. He withdrew the spear quickly, hoping to prevent his foe from grabbing hold of the shaft.

 

[Aeyliea]

There was no way she was doing that again. By instinct, she lowered her head so that instead of meeting her face with his skull, he met the crown of her head instead.

The blow sent stars across her vision, again. For a moment, everything was grey. She remained upright, sword in hand but with momentarily vacant eyes. They sharpened quickly, though the sickness had returned. As had the headache.

There was nothing for her to do but savagely twist the blade so that she could rock the hilt back at him with as much strength as she could muster, aware of the damage it would do even if it connected with nothing.

Her stomach lurched, and she had to swallow her gorge savagely.

 

[childish brandino]

Her temporary dazed state did not go unnoticed.

He caught the sword by its hilt to keep her from twisting the sword further into his leg. His arm shook from the struggle. More strands of hair hung down over his pale, sweaty face and a small stream of blood flowed down his forehead and down the ridge of his brow, both results of his forehead bashing against the crown. There was a deep, sharp pain where the beak stabbed into the thin flesh on his forehead. He still wore a small smile, albeit it was slightly twisted from the pain.

His left hand tightly gripped the hilt of her sword. The tendons in his hand strained, as did the rippling muscles of his forearm. She was able to jostle the sword around a bit, but his tight grip and arm strength kept her from making large motions like before.

Whether it was a strong will, discipline, or pure adrenaline, Kishou was still somehow able to remain standing. It was obvious that he would soon be rendered unable to fight, but he did not have the luxury to think of such a thing. He curled his hand back and swung his right arm towards her temple. He aimed to crush the heel of his hand against her head.

 

[Matari NoTail]

The lizard ran at him blindly, and for a moment Matari was shocked that he knew where he was. How could he- then he felt like slapping himself on the head. Of course. The komodi had better noses than average. There was the possibility he could have followed that, and right now he was. the kitsune was struck with a moment of indecision as he glanced from where he was maintaining the illusion and his axe, and with a grumble the illusion fell off of Tsuris’ face and the axe began to lift off of the dirt and make its way back towards Matari.

Of course, none of this helped with the immediate problem as Matari was almost doubled over onto the Komodi’s back for a small second, them brought the the ground right on top of his tails. That hurt possibly more than the hole in his chest, and he let out a cry of pain as a hand came up to grab at Tsuris’ sword arm, keeping it away from him.

 

[T’suris Flameblade]

T'suris stumbled a little as light and colour returned to his eyes, almost blinding him with brightness just as he had been blinded with darkness. He hit the foxchild lower than intended, and them both fell against the sand.

Dark blue eyes glared angrily - mostly from the humiliation and embarrassment of being rendered almost completely useless by Matari's simple spell. He would have to find a way to remedy that in the future - his employers wouldn't be pleased to have their hired hand taken out so easily.

Curse the kitsune - he had grabbed T'suris's good arm, holding it back with surprising strength. T'suris grunted with effort, his weak arm seizing as he forced it to move, his legs and tail shaking to hold himself up as he brought the blade of his other scimitar next to the young man's neck.

Blood dribbled down onto the Matari NoTail from the deep gash in T'suris's chest. Blood dripped over the Komodi's hand, onto the edge of the the scimitar hilt and down to the kitsune's neck. The Komodi was in rough shape, but his gaze was clear.

"Yield," he said quietly but firmly, even as his body shook with strain.

 

[TTamark]

"After your fight and treatment Arumi Shacen and T'suris Flameblade will be matched up as round three opponents!"

As the announcer finished his announcement many an eye turned to Grozakalla knowing that soon the rest will have caught up, and he would be given another fighter.

(OOC Here is a spreadsheet of matches so far:

Spoiler

https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1foxpSINWt4_VjqnD6PFdk82H8H85Lk5QcJlDw4jT5NU/edit?usp=sharing

)