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Alright, fellows, prepare to rip some people a bloody new one. Now, since we know both Phenom and Scripture seem to be a little sketchy on Internet time, this round will either have to be abnormally short or abnormally long. Since we may have to worry about the judging situation as well, I'm leaning toward the latter. However, I want to know what you guys think: post your thoughts with your battle posts, and I'll announce an official end date once I have a good idea of the kind of time we need.

Anyway, here we go. The rules, according to my fellow leader Repster:

Let's start with one simple thing that should be mentioned. Wyborn. He came up with it, not me or Galefore. Understood? Yes? Good. No? To bad.

Second. This ain't no sissy playing ground. That silk glove over your hand? Take it off. Now. That or soak it in gasoline and set it on fire. This tournament is not about who write better. It's about raw vicious combat prowess.

Repster stabs Galefore in the face. Nets you as much as Repster smoothly ran over to Galefore, more of a glide then a run. He feinted to the left, and while Galefore's guard was down Repster's dagger when straight for the face. Repster grinned threw his new mask of blood.

Now, that may or may not have been a slight exaggeration, but you get the point. I repeat. This is not about pretty witting, this is about making the other guy hurt. Of course, there are some limits where you just end up godmodding, but common sense should prevent that. On to more specific rules.

1. Transformations are allowed. If your character can go Super Saiya-jin, or turn into a giant thing that's like a weird hybrid between a man and a bear and a wolverine, or just whatever, you can do it. You just have to carry over damage between forms.If you found yourself with a scar above your eye, that scar remains even if you become a werewolf.

2. No major healing. If someone slices open your throat and you seal it to stop bleeding, that’s legal. If you lose your arm and have the ability to reattach it (for instance, if John Smith lost his arm he’s screwed.) The only thing is that you can’t heal the damage done to your body. If you lose your arm and reattach it, you probably won’t have that much mobility with that arm, and it will hurt like Hell. Be realistic and fair when healing above all else.

Note: I'm well know for having been doing that since my early days. It's a delicate balance between part of a character, and being cheap.

3.All battles will occur in the same topic. Standard procedure for these things since the first tournaments. R-18's original format has worked fine for that past years, they're no reason to change it.

4. Whoever posts first for the fight gets to choose the battlefield. That means that if someone wants wants to fight in the land of funk, then that's where you're fighting. Deal with it.

5. If you win, you will have the opportunity to finish off your enemy Mortal Kombat style. After the judges announce the winner, the host/one of the judges/me/whomsoever job it's gonna end up being will say when the executions will be carried out. At that point, you can kill your opponent - you don't have to, but it is encouraged, very encouraged. Don't worry if your character is killed; as with everything like this, character deaths are not permanent and don't carry over between topics unless you want them to.

I do believe I've covered everything.

Aaaaand THE FIGHTS:

ALPHA:
1. Loot vs. 7. Mushi
3. a traveller vs. 2. Tazy
4. Zaidon vs. 6. Vapor
5. Metal Man vs. 8. Repster

OMEGA:
8. Inferno vs. 5. Repster
1. X-3 vs. 3. Guildmaster
4. Trickster-kun vs. 7. Scripture
2. Phenom vs. 6. Weegee

Judges:
1. Galefore
2 and 3 are TBA

HERE WE GOOOOOOO

OOC: As long as there is some deadline for the judging, I don't really mind either way. I just don't feel like being in limbo again. :p

Metal Man walked down a ruined street in a dusty wasteland. This place had been dead for ages. And in some ways, so had Metal Man.

He had changed design multiple times, picking up the newest and latest. Today he appeared to be practically unarmed, except for some strange-looking remote control device. He walked down the crumbling sidewalk of the ruined city, idly kicking whatever debris blocked his path.

As he moved to avoid a large, still faintly radioactive crater, he looked up into the sky. It was a hideous shade of brown. The sun was only visible as a faint disc in this place. He shook his head, sighing. If only I had reacted earlier.

The monotonous crunching of his feet on the weak pavement continued, as he neared a ruined mailbox. Old, useless bills had spilled out and begun to disintegrate. Metal Man walked through through it, causing a flurry of "GasCo" bills and "Elekzap" magazines to fly around in the wind. Nearby was a crashed postal truck, which got the same treatment.

Metal Man was annoyed with this deadness. He'd learned to do nothing but fight, but all that was here was corpses and destroyed lives. He took out his strangely glowing, oversized remote control and pressed a big red button.

"Let's see if I can't get some entertainment for once." He said in his steely, deep voice. A portal opened, blowing away the mail.

...But that would probably not be the last thing it blew away.

Why is it that ever since he stepped through that strange portal that everyone he ran into wanted to kill him? Or at least fight? He wondered, but now he realized that was the price for traveling to a new world, a new universe. He was separated from the only person he trusted, and now everyone is a bloodthirsty mercenary. And even if they weren't, everybody thought everybody else was. No one could be trusted. Everything came down to pure survival instinct: Whoever it is, they can't kill you if they're dead.

He knew what would happen. The terrain he was standing on would twist away into nothing, and he would be somewhere else. And someone would be there to fight him, and somehow, it couldn't be avoided. As if fate had already decided they would fight. How long could he last here?

Six feet tall, male-human-looking, short brown hair, medium build, slightly-tanned Caucasian-looking skin, no distinguishing features. Red sleeveless T-shirt, black jeans, black tennis shoes. No slack in his clothing, no concealed weapon. Not really clothing, actually an extension of his epidermis, but it looked and felt real enough. He walked around, charging up by taking in nearby atoms and storing the energy after atomic fusion. He released the fused atoms back into the air. He didn't need to breathe, so no need for lungs. He didn't eat, so no stomach. No stomach and no lungs? Well, then you don't need blood, or a heart for that matter. The only organs he needed were a skeleton, muscles, and his senses. All the energy he needed came from fusion. Even so, he looked perfectly human on the outside.

Of course it happened. Why wouldn't it? That's what this world did. Everything he saw swirled, he disappeared, and now he's somewhere else. He saw something familiar, at least. Something he didn't like: Dead humans. Lots of them. Scattered around the stone walls, behind the catapults, lying on top of the ballistas, and simply strewn on the dirt floor. Such ancient architecture. It looked a lot like the castles he saw in the history books back on Earth.

He knew someone was going to appear. Someone who would try to kill him. But who? Or even what would it be? What did Zaidon have to defeat now? Who would emerge here... here in Oceansford Castle?

okay repster, we're fighitng at a volcano on my homeworld!

the dragon king Inferno abruptly landed at the rim of Draco's highest volcano, Mt. Hell Forge. an endless collumn of black smoke billowed from it's mouth as if to announce it's presance to the world. the blood red rock of the volcano glowed as a bright orange from the magma within the culdera, bubbling and churning as it shifted colors from orange, to white, to red, and finally back to orange. Inferno kicked a pebel into Mt. Hell Forge, causing it to fall deep into the culdera's magma chamber. As if on a hair trigger the volcano errupted violently, spewing searing hot magma in a one hundred foot column into the sky, lighting up the entire volcanic region, bathing it in an orange glow for a brief moment before falling back into the crater from wence it came.
"perfect, if they come here to fight me then Hell Forge's fires await them. now to make Hell Forge a suitable arena."
The hybrid king flys to the base of the volcano and uses the flowing magma beneath the ground to cut out a square of land 100ft x 100ft, attaching extreamly thick iron chains to each corner and carrying the block of red stone to the center of the volcano's mouth and then embedding each of the four chains deep into the the volcano's rim. Inferno landed in the newly created arena's canter and crossed his arms, folding up and retracting his crimson dragon wings into his back, a quite painful process to be sure, but much less painful to extend them again.
"okay you bastards, who's first?"

The crystals shone brilliantly off each other in the dark cave. They were almost like flickering lights as they shined onto the mine tracks. As they shined a mine cart went past them, rumbling somewhat loudly. The lights did not seem to faze the mine cart's rider, who had his arms folded as the cart sped on. His red coat was above his hips from the acceleration exposing his black pants and brown boots. The sword on his back kept the coat from blowing too far, Two-Handed and a handle that looked like two snakes with biting the end of it. Suddenly the cart comes to its end stopping suddenly and getting a nasty bump on the front.

"I guess this is my stop" said Kryptonite as he got one leg out of the cart. His white hair reflected off the crystal lights as he pulled out with sword. He starts to walk further into the cave, not thinking of anyone that could be watching him.

On a dual-sunned planet Scrit opens his eyes for the first time in what feels like years, squinting at first but rapidly adjusting due to the latent nanomachines still at work in his system. As the energy from his teleportation dissolves around him he orients himself: he is standing on a steel-grated platform high off the ground, his only point of reference for which are the edges of the immense hole he is suspended over. From his vantage point he can see numerous rays of sun poking through ochre-colored clouds down to the blasted landscape below, through which run snaking tracks, as if giant wheels had, of their own accord, run wild through this landscape to die loudly against the plateaus in the hazy distance. From his current platform walkways extend to other platforms, each rectangular and large enough to accommodate many miners: to his left they ascend, terminating at what appears to be a control room, and to his right they go downward, following at first the cliff-face they are attached to and then hanging out into space, these particular rectangles accompanied by the soft humming of anti-gravity units.

Satisfied, Scrit turns his eyes upon himself, making sure he managed to teleport himself wholly to this location, and had not in his haste left a foot or an organ hovering in his wake. He is garbed in torn jeans, their dusted color a testament to his lack of bathing and general vagrancy, and naked from the chest up, which would not be of concern were his visible skin not covered in masses of scar tissue, implying not the edges of swords received but instead something attached surgically and then removed by decidedly un-surgical means. Clues to what might have once covered his body adorn his hands and snake like a disease up his forearms; covered in a black meshing on top of which is laid a thicker white metal, both materials strange and unearthly, his hands flex tentatively at his sides, allaying his fears that perhaps he might have left some connective tissue behind during transport. His visage is similarly scarred, save for a scrap of black-and-white armoring left covering his left cheek and forehead, encircling his eye below and above but not touching his nose.

He tests his feet, the gravity of this new world, and the accoutrements belted to his waist clink and jostle against him – all sorts of otherworldly weaponry, vials of frothing acids and mechanical weaponry of barbaric and sinister design.

Mushi, you want first post or am I going to have to rip some battleground from the black abyss of my mind?

^What he said, but replace that with Phenom.

The Soul Stone

The faint light from the crystalline minerals on the cavern walls reflected off the hilt of Kryptonite's sword as he progressed farther into the underground. His steps were steady, measured, and taken with certainty. That same certainty persisted when he came to a fork in the tunnel; he strode onward, taking the left path with such confidence that any onlookers might have assumed that he actually knew where he was going.

Several of the miners who worked in the upper levels of the shaft had watched him enter the complex, wondering who had given him that map and whether it was just a hoax, or if there truly was some sort of relic buried under their worksite. Some laughed, saying that he was a fool and would be lost forever once he ventured down into the unexplored regions. Others just silently whispered a prayer for him. One elderly miner had even tried to talk him into turning back, but that was a futile effort. One thing was for sure – all these miners were scared of something that supposedly lived in this cave. Were it not for the money to be made and the diamond-hard armor that could be forged from the cave's crystals, no one would have ever set foot here in the Cave of the Forgotten.

Kryptonite paused for a moment as he withdrew the faded piece of parchment from his coat pocket once more and studied the ancient writings for what felt like the hundredth time that day. He could not accurately translate the writing of the page, and thus this whole expedition so far had been guided solely by the strange pictures on the document. Over the Mountains of Unspeakable Annihilation, across the Ocean of Disintegration, along the Yellow Brick Road (of Death), through the Forest of Bloody Dismemberment, his journey now ended here in the Cave of the Forgotten. So far, his journey had yielded no rewards, save for the extra map pieces that had led him here.

Something else was out of the ordinary as well. This adventurer was not carrying a torch, yet he could see just fine in this underground cavern. Stranger still was the fact the cave was growing brighter and brighter as he descended... the glowing crystal formations on the walls of the cave were becoming gradually more numerous as he descended, casting more and more light upon the interior and providing better lighting. By now it was bright as day where he stood, though the blue light from the crystals was a different color than sunlight.

He rounded another bend, marching blindly forward. He had no idea which way to go now other than to keep moving forward. All the tunnels looked the same, with no distinguishing characteristics to set them apart. The crystals were so dense now that he could no longer even see the rock walls of the cavern. Nothing but crystals lined his vision on every side, as if the entire cave were made of nothing but shiny crystalline gemstones. Though the area was incredibly well lit, this served only to confuse the wanderer further, as the bright lights simply made it harder to tell which tunnel led to where.

He was actually starting to get worried, thinking about how easily he could get turned around and not be able to back track, when all his worries vanished. Up ahead, the light was a different color. Coming from the next chamber, a deep crimson hue was displayed on the walls, signifying that his search was over. He broke into a run.

After nearly three hours of hiking, the explorer reached the room he sought. He entered the chamber with relief, having finally found the artifact he was after and proving that the ancient map he carried was indeed legitimate. There, lying in the corner of the room on top of a particularly massive crystal formation, was the Soul Stone. The blood red gem lay sideways on the ground, no larger than a cucumber, and was apparently unguarded.

Kryptonite swiftly closed the distance to his prize, inspecting the ground as he went for traps and watching the walls for the movement of any hidden guardians or trap mechanisms. He stood directly over the gem now, and as the red light reflected his eyes, he appeared to be alone.

Here goes nothing...

With nothing else left to do, he reached down and wrapped his fingers around the gem.

Immediately, he heard screaming from every direction, thousands of voices yelling in dozens of languages. Kryptonite recoiled backwards from the stone as the voices swamped his senses. Some called for help; others threatened him; but most he simply could not understand. For a brief second, he could see what looked like thousands of faces swimming around inside the stone, endlessly lost, forever trapped, seeking an exit which did not exist.

He instinctively yanked his hand away from the stone; the voices immediately ceased, the faces vanished, and the glowing stone was silent. The stone shot from the ground and hovered in the air in front of him as its deep red tones suddenly darkened, casting a menacing dark aura around the room. The entire cavern began to rumble as the gemstone floated in the air, all the while pulsing waves of light flooded the room with dramatic intensity. The crystal formations on the wall began to shake slightly at first, but the rumbling and vibrations grew exponentially more violent with every passing moment until chunks of crystal broke free from the wall.

The debris itself soon joined the Soul Stone, hovering around it like a swarm of flies. The Soul Stone hung motionlessly in the air while the other bits and pieces of debris flew around it like a tornado, and as this process continued the quaking continued to worsen. Larger chunks of glowing crystal tore free from the cavern floor and walls and soon joined the swirling mass of glowing rocks, presenting a maelstrom of stone and crystal every size and shape that almost hurt to look at as the magnificence of the glowing crystals grew brighter.

Slowly, right before his eyes, the stones began to configure themselves, moving with purpose towards specific areas, and the figure of a golem took shape before him. The blood red hue was soon drowned out as the sky blue glow from the other crystals covered it under their mass, with larger formations forming the core and torso of the creature. Within seconds, the smaller stones had assembled themselves in clusters to form arms and legs, until finally the smallest pieces of the debris formed the fingers and extremities of the crystal giant.

It was rather small for a golem – only nine and a half feet. The Soul Stone was no longer visible at all, completely encased in the rocky shell of the other pieces. It looked to be an awkward creature; its arms and legs were neither the same length nor the same thickness, and it appeared as though it topple over it took but one step. Perhaps this awkward construction and complete lack of physical coordination were part of the reason that Kryptonite was so surprised at the lightning fast punch that struck him in the chest.

The seven hundred pounds of arm behind the pumpkin-sized fist that slammed into him were far more than enough force to catapult him across the room, and his short flight through the air was cut short by his violent contact with the jagged crystal. He did not feel like counting how many bones had just broken; instead, he drew forth the Alastor and gritted his teeth as the blue flame engulfed his weapon.

The creature charged again, and Kryptonite found that the brilliant glow coming from the crystal golem made it nearly impossible to look straight at it. Furthermore, the golem's body blended in with the rest of the crystal formations and created a sort of chameleon effect.

He steadied himself with his sword at the ready, relying more on his hearing to track the golem's movement. The creature charged, rapidly approaching with its great lumbering footsteps. The swordsman listened intently to the timing of its steps, and when it came within swinging distance, he vaulted forward, leaving the ground just as a titanic fist crushed the crystal he had been standing on into powder. He sailed up and over the creature, and then jammed his sword into it from behind, hoping he could hit the Soul Stone directly.

Unfortunately, there was no direct hit available even from behind, as the layers of diamond hard crystal rocks overlapped each other to form natural plate mail. Even if there were an opening, staring directly into the blinding creature would be incredibly painful and reduce his accuracy. The golem swung around to attack whatever had tickled it; Kryptonite again avoided the creature, hopping backwards just as another crystal fist demolished the floor where he had just been.

The golem had no mouth and made no sound, yet the frustration it was feeling was still somehow felt. It angrily flung its arm towards the human in a punching motion, and at the end of this swing the stone on the very end of its arm detached and flew like a slingshot.

Yes. The golem just threw its own finger at him.

Kryptonite never saw the reflective surface of the twenty five pound stone that struck him in the abdomen, nor was he able to observe the replacement crystal that floated up from the floor to replace the missing finger. He did, however, get an excellent glimpse of the massive golem foot that soccer kicked him clear out of the room and headlong into the wall of the next chamber.

There he was, Chef Jack Ramsey, a tall man, dressed completely in white, with short blonde hair. The actual color was darkened by the sweat and oil in it from the long hours of work. He was at his usual job,at the A++ hotel and casino's (rated 5 stars by Hotel's Weekly) kitchen, as one of the head chefs. Tonight there was a special banquet for a special person and they wanted a special cake. He hadd been working all the way until midnight, pouring blood, sweat, and tears into this seven layered cake of pure white coloration.

The way he had slaved... It was as if his life depended upon this cake. He seemed oblivious to the ringing of slot machines as one kitchen door, to the left, was opened, and of the sound of everybody's daily conversations going on through the door on the left. He even seemed oblivious to how busy things were in the city streets outside the half open window. No, the only thing that mattered was the perfection of his latest masterpiec, and it was finally done. As he was marvelling at his seven layers of genius, the door to the left opened - but there was something odd - there were no sounds.The restaraunt was silent. Someone had walked in behind the master chef, who had noticed something amiss whaen the sound didn't come from the opened door anymore.

The Chef Jack Ramsey turned around his arms outstretched to the sides, a large frying pan in one hand and a huge butcher knife in the other, and the firey furnace of hell burning in his eyes...

"I know what you're here for! And you''re not getting the seven layered jewel that lay on the table behind me!"

OOC: AT&T Needs to hurry up with sending that ****n software to me so I can get online on my own **** computer and not have to got to ****n town!

Kryptonite had only a few seconds to avoid a rather painful concussion and possibly shattering his spine on the crystal wall. He managed to maneuver he feet to land onto the crystal surface, but immeadiatly landed face first onto the floor. He managed to get back up, only to deflect another shot from the crystal figure using Alastor. He clutched his stomach, which was bruised from the shot made earlier and tried to think for a second.

The Golem is practically invisible here with the red walls masking its presence. In addition to that, if the Kryp's experience with the soul stone is any clue, then there will be no doubt that if Kryptonite loses this fight, he will be suffering like everyone else within that stone. He had to come up with a plan quickly, because the golem was already bearing down on him.

He hears the golem swinging at him, and he ducks to avoid it. The Blue Flames erupt once more on the sword as he stabs at the golem, going into its arm and causing the crystals to shine with a blue light for a moment before Kryp pulls on the side of the blade, wedging half of the creature's arm off. The arm falls to the ground and breaks apart, which Kryp knows agitates the creature greatly. Kryptonite uses this time to slash at the ground with his sword, causing the area struck to burn with blue flame. He smiles at his dirty deed, but is quickly socked about 20 feet by the Soul Crystal Golem for his effort. The golem rushes through the flames, only for the flame to stay on it. Since it is quite peculiar for a crystal to catch on fire, the golem is quite bothered and slams into a wall to attempt to extinguish the flames. However, more flames from where Kryp struck start to lick at the golem continually igniting more flames on the creature. Suddenly tiny flecks of crystal fly from the golem as the flames start to drill into the creature. Kryptonite smiles again, "If I can't get at you directly, then indirectly is my option!" Kryp runs at the creature, ready to stab it in the chest.

Aidan Dreiks sighed as he sat there, bored. Bored, bored, bored, and bored. A portal within reach, but boring. Portals were stupid. They glowed, they brought you somewhere, sure it might amuse him for a moment, but far to often it was just as dull on that side. Distant wars, combat, and challenges awaited him. All boring. So dull, without so much as a speck of entertainment to be had.
"By the flame, what does a man have to do to get some stimulation around here." he roared, somehow showing as much apathy as his sigh.

"If one thing can't distract you... how about two?" One of the thousands around him asked.
"How the bloody flame am I supposed to do that? I can't be in two places at once... or can... I... ?" A smirk slowly spread on his face. He could be in two places at once... it was complicated, confusing, and would drive any man insane. Perfect.

-_-_-_-

A foot stepped in through the portal before Metal Man, not a boot or a shoe. A barefoot. The came the rest of the man. A scant half foot after five, he his statue was not impressive. A solid build, obvious by his lack of a shirt, but nothing that stood out particularly so.

Wild fiery red hair topped the smirking face. The golden eyed Aidan chuckled as him saw his opponent.
"Woah, trippy." His voice sounded a bit off but was one that would not stand out, except for it being wreathed in the sound of an inferno. Seeing double was an odd sensation to a man with one eye.
"Ello gov'na how's it hangin' ? Up for a tussle? Don't matter, best be stepping, the pain is about to be brought." He swapped accents around with every word.

He grasped at his wasted, unclipped the silver flask, took a swig and clipped it back. A simple movement, almost unconscious even.

-_-_-_-

Inferno felt him before he saw him. Such a man that had such raw power and connection to Fire was like a lighthouse in a clear night at sea. He hopped forward and lept on the platform with the dragon king with ease. He rand his hand in his hair, Golden dragon spiraling around his right arm. Part tattoo, part brand, park marking, whatever it was was incredibly lifelike. Almost as it was about to wake up and move about.

"Woah, trippy." Aidan spoke, his voice odd. Completely unfazed by the area, as he stood there casually.
"Ello gov'na how's it hangin' ? Up for a tussle? Don't matter, best be stepping, the pain is about to be brought." He swapped accents around with every word.

He grasped at his wasted, unclipped the silver flask, took a swig and clipped it back. A simple movement, almost unconscious even.

"Pain. Heh heh heh. What's life without it?"

The Metal being made a stomping step forward, ripping a crack in the ruined concrete, as he stylishly flipped his left arm to karate-chop the gap between his right hand's thumb and other finger.

With a sickening CHCHUNK, his hand morphed into a mess of blades and spikes; each finger split in two, revealing a knife on the left and right side of each, and in the center, a solid spike, maximizing the surface area for cruelty.

The thumb did the same, but with a segmented version. Metal Man flexed this hand threateningly at Aidan, as a creepy smile crept across his face.

"Welcome to my middle name."

In a blink, in superhuman time, Metal Man had left his previous spot, lunging for Aiden. The man of evil steel made a wicked slash with his bladed hand; Aiden moved to dodge, but no amount of speed could avoid the horrible fade that the blade hand had for Aiden.

Flesh and blood were shredded insidiously through the hideous hand-instrument, making horrible slash marks hither and yon Aiden's poor arm.

The vile metal monster then curved his hand, flicking and flapping it about, causing numerous cuts of various sizes. Aiden could move all he wanted, but even a slight touch of this hideous monstrosity seemed to multiply the gashes exponentially. After a small tornado's worth of violent right-hand gestures, the man of steel stood back, his hand covered in the red quickening. He flicked the hand back into a hand, splashing the blood about, then surgically removing it by lighting the hand on fire with his left hand. He then stood as he was before, surgically sure with his position in the foot-crater he had made for this purpose.

He then idly pointed at the scratch-and-gouge afflicted body of Aiden as if nothing had happened. "Your turn." His gritty, sardonic voice was a vile thing here, mocking the hateful destruction his right hand had wrought.

"so you're my first opponent huh? I was expecting someone else but you'll be a good warm up."
The dragon king uncrossed his arms and smirked as he disappeared before Aidan's eyes. Aidan suddenly fealt a sharp pain in the back of his head, the result of a sharp kick from the dragonic saiyan. the kick caused aidan to go flying across the arena only to be stopped by a hard punch to the gut which hurtled him skywards. Inferno appeared above aidan and smashed his dragonic tail into aidans back, sending aidan crashing into the thick arena floor, leaving a small crater arounf him about 4 feet in diamater. Inferno landed on the opposite side of the arena and fired off a volly of red ki blasts at his foe at dangerously high velocities hoping that they would connect.

A character unused in, like, 4 years

OoC: Ahhh... that was a snazzy battlefield choice, Z. ;)

It was two months after the Siege. much blood was spilt, but to no fruitful consequences. There was no victor. Nobody had captured the castle. It all ended in van as the armies ended up squabbling against each other, and nobody got out alive. No-one even bothered to pick up the corpses. Everybody moved on.

However, there were still a few who came here with tourist-like senses of wonder. There were repelled by the townsfolk, though; unless they were some of the most hardened warriors out there. They got through. And this one, some incredibly tall mechanical man, was one of them.

A white robot, with semi-transparent armor that showed off the cog structures inside of him, had made its way to the ruins of Oceansford. The thing was 9 feet tall, with a diamond-shaped head bearing a black triangle- the only nonwhite thing on its slender body, excluding the dull grey gears on the inside that made it operate, and the similar gears that were there in place of feet for its wheeling pleasure. It swung its Gearsword, an assemblage of interlocked, razor-sharp cogs, as it walked/rolled. This machine was an alien warrior, with sentience yet an unerasable bloodlust. And it was ready to battle whoever it saw next, knowing that only elite warriors would be here.

And through its one dark electronic eye, it saw a man in the distance, who looked perfectly normal. Didn't look like an average elite warrior. But this machine, the White Gear as it was called, knew that he would probably put up a fight. Being mute, White Gear couldn't call out (no speech programming there) but he zoomed over to the center of his soon-to-be opponent's line of sight, and brandished the Gearsword. It made the sword's gears spin, threatiningly, and it jabbed a finger at the man in the red shirt.

The wanderer got the menacing aura. It was about to begin.

I'm in a place with Haitian internet right now... so by all means, after you, L007.

Aidan cocked an eyebrow. Interesting. Unimpressive, but interesting. He struck the man of metal straight the chest, when had he closed the distance? Metal man laughed, as he barely even felt the strike, much the same for the few that followed. He could almost feel Aidan's had about to break, but there was no damage to be had on his side as he brought his fist forward and punched Aidan in the face. His jaw broke, the force of the blow sending him bouncing back.

The shirtless one got to his feet. Took another swig from his flask as he did so, and chuckled, his jawbone being dislocated and broken being of little concern. He seemed... distracted for a moment before walking forward. Strutting really, he knew something metal man did not. That was, one does not fight a blacksmith and let him figure out the properties of your metalic protection. After all, with this new information, Aidan was about to drag the scrap metal in front of him into the forge and make himself a new shiny set of dinnerware.

This time, when Aidan's fist went forward, it was wreathed in the white hot flame of the truest forge, and metal man's body gave way. The perfect temperature, and just enough force. Now Aidan was no fool, his target were simple. The joints. First he would cripple Metla man's mobilty, then work on the rest of him.

Metla man leg, stuck in the ground, stood no chance as Aidan wrecked his knee. Oh he received a nasty straight to the temple, but he simply took that force and turn it back on the arm that struck him, bending and breaking the metal and whatever device might be connected to Metal Man's left elbow.

All the while, this strange trembling shook the metallic monstrosity. Almost like a slight shiver every time the golden eyed man struck, whether it was the blow that made it harder and harder to move, or those that simply dented him.



-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-


Aidan rolled over, sat up, and took a swig. He did not even bother looking up at Inferno as he casually stood. Fool of a man. Wasting his strenght to create this slab, and the breaking parts of it. Downright wasteful. He casually rose and strode forward with arogance, the dragon kings assault ignored. Some struck, some were sidesteped with ease and the slightest movement. It was terribilly inefficient, and ineffective. It only added to the destruction of the slab. He picked up a piece of debris as he walk to sure footing again.

Inferno was not about to wait for whatever Aidan had planned, and was suddenly behind the human again. A quick powerful haymaker from him, and... nothing. Aidan step slightly to the side, turned and ducked his head, and the royal blooded missed all together. Hand to Hand combat was this one's strong side. So was playing dirty. He slapped Inferno in the face.

Not a punch, not a chop, but a simple slap. This was, however, the hand that had picked up debris. Debris returned to it's original semi liquid state that he smeered all over his tailed opponents eyes. In that sissy slap.

Now the molten rock may not have much affect on inferno, but sundely being blinding his hands went to his face, and found a solid. Supercooled by having the heat sucked right out of it, he had a nice rock blindfold in his face, that if it were to be broken threted to tear his eyes apart.

Inferno's hans were at his face, and Aidan's knee went up. Staight into the half dragon privates. As the same time he struck roughtly where his disphargme ( The lung compressor decompressor muscle. I have no clue how to spell that in any way, and I really don't want to look it up.) should be. Weather or not it knocked whatever wind was left did not matter. It was merely another blow to weaken him. Quick, brutal attacks.

Inferno had show the ability to manipulate Ki, now it was Aidan's turn. However, the martial artist had his ways about doing it. He gatherred it around his remainng fist. He could not produce as much as the sayin hybrid, after all they had a incredible gift in that area. However,ki concentrated in his hand, he struck and the effect of his training was obvious.

There was no defense for inferno. The punch did little, but the ki surge through, ripped apart his defense and broke, nearly shattering them, three of his ribs.

Aidan jumped back, barely avoiding being tripped up by Inferno's tail. Out of breath, pain flaring in his manhood, blind, and broken, what would inferno do? Aidan took a swig from his flask.

The hot flame, the precision targets, the damage; all seemed well for Aidan's offense, as Metal Man was rooted to the spot, like some bizarre art nouveau sculpture. However, these hits had sprayed vast amounts of pink fluid. It was nothing more than the Metal Man's circulatory fluid, used in his implants and body. But it had also gotten all over Aidan's body, contacting with all the minuscule wounds he'd slashed into the skin of the blacksmith.

And soon, too much of it became loose. Before the blacksmith could realize it... the acidic pink goo burned his wounds, and then caught afire when it touched the blazing fire on his hand. Metal Man made a smug grin, as he held his neatly broken time device over the fire, melting it back together into one piece.

"You may have read my armor, but I read your soul."

He then flipped his left hand out to meet an incoming punch. Aidan's punch hit it, obliterating the hand on it. But Aidan had only opened a vast resevoir of the fluid. The heinous man of steel laughed as it gushed forth, turning the blacksmith into a burning spectacle of fire. Maybe he was fireproof, maybe he had a kindred spark with the fire...

...But all that fire and corrosive fluid burning Aiden's wounds gave Metal plenty of time to punch his leg back into rough order--not really useful anymore to move, but decent to drag around behind him.

As Aiden most likely went to deal with the flame (be it with his powers as a blacksmith, Ki, putting it out somehow, or something), Metal Man walked over to a ruined Chrysler passenger vehicle and ripped the door off of it.

"You want something to bend and break? Come and get some."

The man defiantly smashed the door against the car it had once been a part of, then tossed it high up into the air and took a defensive stance. He only had one working hand, and had apparently lost a lot of fluid--but he didn't seem to mind....

"you fight dirty! agh!"

Inferno gripped his broken ribs as he got to his feet, definately feeling the fain from each attack but trying his best to block it out. his body heat rose to such a degree that thehard lavastone over his eyes melted back into lava and absorbed into him, releaving the pain a bit and returning his eyesight, but otherwise did nothing to aid his condition. The dragon king smirked at his foe as he formed a fireball in his right hand, glowing orange, then white hot.

"you don't seem to understand that none can match me in fire manipulation. I've masterd converting my dragonfire into,"

the white hot fireball in his hand flickeredand became a glowing orb of energy, no longer fire, it had converted to

"plasma. for anyone else this would take a lifetime of training, but my heritage has allowed me to master this in but a few years."

Inferno closed his fist around the plasma ball, channeling it into his fist and flying at mach speed towards Aidan, driving his heavy punch dead center to aidan's chest, breaking 8 ribs and shattering half of those from the sheer force of the impact. the fighter is sent flying back 20 feet, skidding to a stop, a smoaking burn mark on his chest and scrapes across his back from the rough terrain of the makeshift arena. Inferno then took to the sky and chared up a mssive ki ball infused with dragonfire and shot it as a beam at the downed aidan, thinking he wasn't getting up from that punch.

Starting off slow

[OoC]*sigh* Why do robots throw a curve-ball at my ability to be creative in a fight? Try to give me an idea of how this guy moves so I can role-play better.[/Ooc]

He thought it strange. He had never faced a robotic opponent before. But he had seen robots and androids... none of them looked like this. He could see right into it. See its gears and how it moved. Very strange. Like all robots, he wondered about its speed and flexibility. He picked up two bricks, one in each hand, and transfered all the heat energy from one into the other. One was now very cold (yet still a brick), but the other was virtually a block of magma. He threw them at the robot at such an interval that while it could not deflect them both with one swing of its sword, the next swing would have to be very fast. The magma brick was thrown second.

Like all enemies with a weapon, he had to do something about that razor-sharp sword. Just how hot could it get before it melted into a puddle? Fortunately, most metals have a low specific heat, so if he could get a hold of this iron idiot he could melt it into scrap with his hands. But first he had to find out how fast it was. Could he get behind it? How fast could it turn on those wheels?

After throwing the bricks and learning how fast it could deflect them, he charged, being quite careful to avoid the sword. If he grabbed onto the arm holding the weapon, it couldn't slice him. He tried to get a closer look at this thing to see how it ticked.

Note to Vapor: Anything he wraps his hands around he can begin superheating in an attempt to melt it. In the course of your next post, he will try to disable the shoulder of the arm holding the sword.