The Game (N_I v Shiro)

Brutality, cunning, gore; these are the requirements for the greatest show.

The stage is nothing more then a pit, nestled into the ground with tender loving care; four meters deep and ten meters across, all sides are lines with rebar enforced cement. At the cardinal points are ladders which drop off two meters before the floor. In the centre of the floor is a drain for washing away the blood. The walls are coated with flaking white paint from constant abuse, some areas are stained where blood has seeped through the paint. Along the top is a ring of razor wire, there is no room for stage fright here. Glaring lights illuminate the area, nothing could be missed.

((This is a simple match up, post limit of 14, melee weapons and magical abilities allowed, no summons/familiars/outside aid allowed, judges will be brought in should no knock out/death be reached by the conclusion of 14 posts per fighter.))

His breath was slow, in and out, with deep breaths to circulate oxygen and prepare the proper mental state. To force down any notion of panic and flight, in and out, that could ruin him, see him crippled or killed. Any fate other then victory was a sham, in and out, and his breath quickened. Chemicals flowed through his body and he was ready.

It was not the first time he had done this; but it had been a while. Ignoring the ladder the man leapt from the air and fell with gravity's pull. The earth beneath beckoned with cold hard fingers. Someone was going back to the mud this night.

With a thud he landed in a crouched position, metal clanked and the warp-touched warrior rose to stand. His torso was bare, marked by years of battle and tattoos that writhed and twisted in the view of an observer; but the rest of him was shrouded beneath blood stained cloth and dark metal. No weapon did he carry, for his form was the weapon he needed; built like a mountain of muscle this warrior cast an imposing image.

He reared back his head and howled out his delight of the blood spill to come.

-1-

He Approached the stage, Scanning the arena. He ignored the ladder and simply jumped into the arena. He glared at his opponent, seeing him unarmed, he was surprised at first, but then noticing the many battle scars on his Torso, he guessed this was not going to be a easy fight. He grabbed his sword and threw it out of the arena. "Only fair", he said and smirked getting into his stance, flames formed around his body for a short moment then focused around his firsts. He started to move forward towards his opponent. He tightened his stance and lunges forward toward his foe, throwing a flaming punch aimed for his foes jaw.

-1-

Draugr's opponent had discarded his weapon and though his foe couldn't see it he grinned, lips pulled back to reveal teeth built for rending, behind his helm. The numerous small openings within the helm provided him with an excellent view of what happened in front of him and forced his mind down a long tunnel of violence.

Distances were quickly closed and fists bathed in fire came at him with furious intent.

Not letting things get off to such a start Draugr stepped into the blow, crashing the metal of his helm into the first. It would not be low where the jaw was; but high upon the crest of the forehead. That was not the extent of his actions though, why should he take a blow without giving one in turn?

As he moved into the blow Draugr sent out a low right hook, designed to catch his enemy in the lower ribs. The metal of his gauntlets added weight to the blow, it would crush a regular man.

-2-

He winced, the blow sent him back, but didnt do much harm to him, his ribs ached but the pain faded fast. "Interesting" he said calmly and grinned. Lunging forth once more, this time he jumped at his oponent, the fire coursed to his legs as he spun in a circle after take off, aiming a flaming round house kick to the side of his opponents helmet, the force of the kick would take the average humans head clean off. The flames intensified around his leg, dramatically increasing the power of his kick.

-2-

Ground was given and Draugr was taking; he did not stop with the hook, no he followed through with a linear shuffle that kept him at arms reach of his foe.

As his right drew back in preparation for another blow the left snaked out, reaching for the collar of his enemies shirt. If he could get a grip on him he could hold him still and send him back to the mud.

There was no chance for a lunge or kick, there was no room for it as Draugr laughed at the little man trying to attack him. The rhythm was his and he would dominate it tell the end of time.

His fist reared up again, even if the grab failed, and instead of driving into Shiro's face, or ribcage again, he sent it on a lower course. The man's throat, Draugr was hoping to crush something fragile. It was like he was a little kid ripping the legs off a spider.

-3-

The Brute had power thats for one thing, matched with average speed, almost as great as his own. For that very reason, as the brute reached for the collar of his shirt, he stepped to the side and positioned himself at the left flank of his foe. He jumped and threw a kick towards his foes head again, the flames consumed his body, the kick was again enchanted with fire, but this time, even if he misses, the flames will scatter from his body and scrold whatever they touch.

-3-

His grasp had been denied; but the battle was far from over and Draugr was in control of it, the Chaos Gods promised blood.

With his metal shod hand reached for nothing but air and his view of Shiro slidi to his left the warrior shifted his attentions. He turned his head and his body followed after, partially carried by the missed throat punch. The left hand was raised and bent as it went into a guarding position; and it was just in time to see the smaller man jump and swing out with his leg.

Fire flared from the leg, and burst forth when it struck against the blocking left arm. Draugr was blinded for the moment as he closed in his defences and readied for his next move.

-4-

Driving his foot into the brutes arm, he pushes himself away into the air, landing at some what of a safe distance from the brutes reach. "Tsk" He was annoyed, looking outside the arena to where his sword lay. He looked at the brute, smiled and clapped his hands. Within a instant he was rushing towards his foe, flames surrounding his body. Throwing his hand open palm first towards the brute, flames burst and spiral around his arm. "Flame Tempest!" He yells. If the attack hits, a spiraling tempest of flames will engulf the brute, hopefully damaging him severly.

-4-

Draugr's vision cleared just in time to see Shiro driving towards him with an open palm strike, a move that gave the warrior no fear. He watched as the limb went past his defences as fire sprouted from nowhere. All of this caused the man to grin and laugh with a sharp intake of air his lungs expanded.

Shifting gears and going from passive to active Draugr closed his armoured limbs around that of his foe. Before the strike could land Shiro would have two opposing forces striking into his arm, one at the wrist and the other at the elbow, as Draugr grabbed and torqued the arm in an attempt to break it.

-5-

The Battle was no longer who was faster in his mind. He let out a battle cry as flames erupted around him and his foe. His finger nails extended, his fox ears and tail appeared. Extreme speed was swapped out for power overwhelming and he took on his Demon Fox form. Shiro spun, easily breaking the brutes grip on his arm and throwing him back at the wall. With inhuman speed he appeared infront of the brute flying towards the wall and take grasp of his head, charging foward increasing the momentum. If the brute cannot escape his almost iron grip grasp, he will most likely be damaged severly by the impact on the wall as for a crater is sure to be left from the impact.

-5-