The Fight (TK v.s. ???)

[TK Shkono]

Nic: I'll obviously be using TK for this fight.

He was the center focus between three solid stone walls. Standing in front of the inch and some half thick metal bars, he patiently waited for the arrival of the Arena Master, with tranquility. He wasn’t a captive under any beings will, he was simply place in this area until further instructions. Sound waves, coming from underneath the steps of on coming employer of blood sport, filled the dungeon with shattered pieces of what was once silence to the Indigo Child’s ears. The director of the coliseum greeted TK with a pleasurable smile before lifting off the lock and letting an open path for TK to lead the way.

Minutes have passed since the departure of the underground rooms. A vibrating energy filled the narrow hallways which are compose of a very extensive height of stairs. In each level the two had passed by, the noise grew stronger, filling the sense of hearing, shaking the two structures that set at each of TK’s side. Thousands of bodies manifested within the fighters mind, each humanoid shape releasing out a roar of excitement, cheer, and distaste at the present combatant. It wasn’t much to think about, the spectators surrounded the pit, their eyes staring down the center of where the bloodshed will occur. It brought a stimulation to his soul, it made him glad that he would be the meaning of attention today, but it was also the possible event of confronting the next challenger.

“Now, I know that you are new here, but I think that you would put a very good show out there. The crowd is growing restless. It is best to not wait any longer.”

TK gave the Arena Master a single nod of comprehending what he meant. It’ll be the first time that TK will be witness by the hundreds of mortals, and possibly immortals, at this moment. In a place that was once shrouded in a step close of complete darkness, a ray of light slashes through the shadows, by the rift of the opening door, and enter the fighter’s eyes. The black pupils, surrounded by the blood red iris, shank in proportion, adapting the sudden brightness from the afternoon sun.

TK slowly walk passed the arches of the great double door and saw that it was everything his mind had put together. His view scroll from the left, arching their way to the right as he realizes the number of crowds there was, even at the front side where he is facing. Black leather gloves, worn on his hands, with the fingers clearly exposed, tightly gripped the metal bo staff which he had brought with him on his journey. The hood, and the cape with it, simply came off as if magically slid off, but it was just the minor push of his ani essence. All that is visible is the black leather armor worn on his shoulders and the whole torso, a belt traveling around the waist to secure the place of his ebony, baggy jeans, and simple worn shoes. The A-field begun to focus as he began to press forward, gaining closer to the center until he halts just a few a couple meters from the dot. He attempted to focus on feeling the presence of any on coming opponent, since there were now three different doors at each side, the opposite, and in front of him, and possibly the back. The metal staff stood straight next to him, in idle state, now TK will just have to wait for his assailant to appear.

[T.G. Oskar]

(OOC: I'll be using Arrek for this fight)

City. A sight he rarely saw.

Arrek wasn't the kind of individual that enjoyed the forest. He enjoyed being with nature, in the deepest reaches of the forest. There were only a few times where he enjoyed being in a city, and even then, not every city.

Yet, now he wasn't in the mood to enjoy the sights. The only good reason he would enjoy being in a city were lost for much too long. And the city wasn't the kind of place he admired.

He had spent days searching for him. The steps had since long faded, but his talent at following even the hardest of tracks made this challenge easier. The quarry he sought was that of a singular person, dressed in rough attire, the scent of gold coins surrounding him. He met him only a few days ago, while searching for clues to find his greatest treasure. The man had observed him, even though he was wearing hood and cape. A slight glimpse, and the man grinned with a peculiar smile, all the while rubbing his hands with excitement. Arrek suspected of the man's demeanor, and he was right; the man grinned with greedy excitement.

"You...you seem like a strong and capable...man... Would you be willing to hear me?"

"I have nothing to speak to you. Your scent distracts me. Your scent...it tells of no good."

"I know what you seek. And I am willing to help. I only need...one thing from you..." The words of the man were spoken in a very peculiar tone: almost seductive, but deceptive. A tone fit for a schemer, indeed.

"Your acts distract me from my hunt. I don't believe you have what I want. Get out of my sight!!" Arrek's voice howled upon the tavern, which scared the patrons. The bartender knew Arrek was a dangerous person, normally docile and solitary but possessed of a rage fitting to his heritage. Few who dared to cross the lone hunter met more than a few solid fists to the mouth. Those who did survive spoke of a rabid wolf hunting them until they cried for mercy, and even then, the only mercy they found was a rain of bites and claws. Two or three that crossed him eyed nervous, scared of telling the other one to back off. Each sight they did made them tremble, for they knew what the man could do to someone who angered him enough.

"A shame...and here I thought you would like to hear about Shiara..." The greedy man's words were cut out with a sudden neck grab. The patrons began to rise from their seats, backing off from the hunter. In his eyes, those animal eyes, the blood ran without control. He was mad. Indeed, very mad.

"WHAT DO YOU KNOW ABOUT HER!!! SPEAK, WORTHLESS PREY, OR I'LL FEED YOU TO THE RATS!!"

"Agggh!!! N...no-no release, no speak!! L-leave...leave me alone!!!" Arrek released his hand from the other man's neck. The other man gasped for air, coughing.

"HAAA!! HAAA!!! Y-you!! You are the kind of spectacle I seek!!! Listen to me, and I shall tell you what you want!!!"

"SPEAK NOW, ROTTING FEAST OF RAVENS!! YOUR HESITATION DISTURBS THE BEAST WITHIN ME!!!"

"I-I will!! You see, I have a proposal to do to you. It will be beneficial to me, and it will be beneficial to you as well."

Arrek sat again, his rage subsumed for a mere while. "I listen."

--

The task was simple. The man was master of a particular Arena, one where only the most powerful of beings were given a chance to fight. He traveled the world in search for singular warriors, and he faced them against each other. He wasn't very clear on what happened to the loser, as he spoke of the joys of victory. Upon the restless sight of Arrek, he hastened his speech.

It seemed that recently, a very strong woman wielding a massive great axe entered the Arena, seemingly of her own will and volition. The days she remained, she won several combats, with her combination of ferocious rage, the rage stemming from war, and her unique fighting style that involved, curously, hurling her massive weapon upon the hapless beings that dared to cross her. Each time she fought, she addressed the crowd, always speaking if they had seen a person dear to her. And the name she spoke was Arrek.

Only days after she dominated her competition, she suddenly disappeared. She was rarely late, and often willing to face whichever opponent she faced against. Seeking the place where she often rested, the Master and his workers found the truth. It seemed that, somehow, she was captured. The capture wasn't a complete success, apparently, as several badly mauled corpses and streaks of blood littered the room. A slight note was left behind, revealing to the master that they "came to reclaim their...". The Arena Master hesitated; he knew that his contractee wasn't the kind of person that would remain calm if he heard about the news.

"I can't tell you about the note, yet. If you want to listen to the rest, you will have to..."

"Have to WHAT!?!?!?"

The Master gulped with fear. "You will have to...participate in the Arena. I-I promise, you will not be disappointed...!!!"

"I DON'T CARE!! YOU SPEAK OF BLOOD, OF CARNAGE, AND OF HER DISAPPEARANCE!! AND YOU WANT ME TO PARTICIPATE ON YOUR PATHETIC GAMES!!! OFF MY SIGHT!!! AND GIVE ME THAT NOTE, OR I'LL RIP YOU SEVERAL NEW BREATHING HOLES OUT!!!"

"N-no!! You, listen!! I-I will give you that note, I promise!! If that's what you want, that's what you'll receive!! I just want you to make me a small favor!!"

"WHAT FAVOR!?!?!?"

"J-just participate. In my Arena. Just...once. One win. And I give you that note. I give my word for it, I promise, I SWEAR!!!"

"One...victory? Easy for me. One victory, and I get that note... Make that ONE FIGHT. Win or lose, I get that note, you get your money, and I will not ever see you again. And if you don't make true that word..."

"I-I will!! One fight, sure, of course!!!" The Arena Master's smell had changed. It was the smell of fear, which surpassed the smell of greed.

The two men had left the tavern, only to see a small cart with a cage. The Master spoke that the cart was full of people, and that the only thing they could find was that cage. Arrek was to be there.

Arrek took his bow from the quiver he had just reclaimed from the weapons keeper. Without an arrow, he aimed at the wooden cage with steel bars.

"I am sorry, but the cart is full. I'm afraid you must..."

"I am no beast that must be caged."

"But..."

"I will be there. I never miss my quarry." And with a scream of "BURN!!", the bow released two beams of flame, which burned the cage. The Master screamed out of fear, and the cart ran away, leaving the cage to consume within the flames. He observed the flaming cage, unsure of the meaning behind it. Of course, the meaning was now irrelevant; he would never be held prisoner to no one. Perhaps he lied a bit. He probably was a beast. And, as a beast, a cage was his anathema. He was used to freedom, to roam the lands freely.

He lifted his nose to pick up the scent. The hood fell, revealing his braided head, and his bestial visage. Looking at the direction the cart had run off, and storing his bow, he ran upon it, as a beast seeking his prey.

--

He entered the immense building that had the title "Arena" written in large words. It was the place he sought: his ears captured the sound of battle and excitement. His nose picked the scent of the man he hunted. His eyes caught a woman, briefly bowing at him, and ready to speak.

"I am sorry, but you may not enter without a ticket. Please come with me, and I shall show you the way into the ticket area."

"I am no spectator. Your Master called me here."

"You mean...perhaps. You do look like a warrior. I shall speak to my Master, please wait over here..."

"Tell him. One battle. Win or lose, I will get that note. And if I don't, you will be left without a boss sooner or later."

"Oh. I'm sorry? I'm afraid you cannot do that, you see...my Master is a very influencial person..."

"I am not bound to the laws of a city. I follow Nature. And out there, only the strong and skilled survive." Two large hired men stood at both sides of the lady. Each man was looking at Arrek intently. Both were larger and stronger than him; they weren't even half as ferocious however. Arrek gave them a strong look, and passed beyond the lady and her thugs. He muttered something, muted enough by the cheers but loud enough to be heard by those who needed to hear it...

"Bears are fierce, strong, and brutal. They are also wise. And slow." With that, he intended to tell the two guards they were no match to him, for despite their size and strength, they weren't as agile as he was. And that it was wiser not to deal with him. "They know...wolves always fight in packs."

There was a large corridor in front of him, slanted upwards just a bit. Arrek moved upon the corridor, from where the cheering emerged. The guards tried to stop Arrek, but to no avail; they were simply pushed over. He awaited at the gate, that large black iron gate that resembled so much a cage, for it to open; for it to free him. Behind him, the Arena Master gave a sign, and the gates began to rise. Arrek drew his bow, hiding it over his long cape, and entered the arena field.

Upon him, a lone man emerged. He was expecting him, it seemed; his weapon was already drawn, pointing upon Arrek as if expecting him to come closer. He could draw his favored blades, but he always made a warning shot first. And he always chose which warning shot to use...

Releasing his bow from the cape, the chain links of his shirt shining from the reflection of the light, Arrek remained walking only briefly. He crouched, as he felt better being crouched than erect; he also intended to move sideways at the very moment he shot the arrows. He drew several arrows with his fingers, and he attached them to his bow, slanted horizontally. He gave a slight sigh, knowing the dangers of an open field, and strung the bow with all of his might. His eyes closed enough to focus all of his attention into his enemy. And, from the beautifully etched bow, the arrows flew all into the body of his opponent, ready to turn him into a pin cushion.

[TK Shkono]

The dark shaded structures towered over the two corporeal presence, the beginning of duality in the center of the Arena. His eyes widen. Particles transmit toward the brain, leading down to the core of the Animancer’s circulatory system. His body releases the glands, presenting a direction for the flow of epinephrine, following the escalation of the rate beats discharging from his main cardiac muscle. This effect would only mean that the foundations of his latent abilities would liberate in his own inner universe, another set of condense energy would rush to tap a point on the mind, the ani essence is now a portion, as his conscience is a whole.

Oxygen filled his lungs, via the expanding rift between the soft protruding organs, that is; his lips. The act remains in sync; The left foot uplifted from the idle state, a process of moving the total living organism, the seven foot, and several inches, tall body, presses forward to impact the distances between the two participants of the arena. The previous mention left half of the activated leg and foot, compresses the sand underneath the layer material of his shoe. His right knee begun to lift upward, the lower half emulated its opposite counter part. In the first stage of all what had happened, the bo staff shifted the upper region to the palm of his left hand, which were further up in front of himself, while the right slid sightly down. He had to remain in combat state, no longer able to continue forward. The projectiles, which were fired by the shape shifter, had to be dealt with first before further actions could be taken.

The essential respiration organs deflated out the collective air particles which were previously breathed in, preceded by the couple of steps taken before. The delivering of what was once within him perfectly sync at the same time frame, when his energy exited from his internal self. Now came the physical manifestation of the A-field, which were surrounded around him, but never were in any form to affect the material universe, except to observe and alarm, whenever an incoming danger occurs. They were flat and disk shape, as if they could only exist in the second dimension, but were only just thin in appearance. They were one foot in diameter, and half in radius, they were invisible to the naked eye. The numbers of each of the individual shields were equal to the amount of arrows that were fired. They remained unseen until they collided against the arrows. For a very short time, they could be seen as a gathering of rings, though they never had a space open in between them, and an illuminating light of neon white. He had placed them in the direction the arrows were traveling in. When he saw that the arrows were successfully blocked, he executed his own retaliation.

The physical presence of the disks vanished before everyone’s eyes, returning to their previously state, except for one, which remain in front of TK. His opponent had the advantage with his bow and arrows. It would be a difficult challenge to come close enough so that TK’s bo staff would be able to reach out for a strike. The Animancer begun to gather kinetic energy while the disk was in an idle state. A simple command by thought, sent the disk shift by its side as continued to gather the kinetic force it would be using to turn into a spinning motion. The kinetic energy was the fuel, and the force driving behind it was the will of the young fighter. He unleashed it from the side, coming in a half circle motion, the disk follows down to aim its edge on the upper half of the opponent’s leg. It would be heading to the same side as the marksman is moving in. The incoming disk only had the intentions of injuring the opponent, nothing more, for now. If nothing stands in disks’ way, it would come back close toward TK, possibly negated when its use is done, or would be used for further actions, this depends on the reaction the opponent would give.

[T.G. Oskar]

For a moment, only happening few times Arrek shot one of his volleys of arrows, he was completely certain that he aimed the right spot, that the arrows would land and that his opponent would be skewered by several heads; that grim certainty that he had dealt the perfect shot. For a brief moment, he knew that the arrows were guided by the wind itself, landing only where Arrek's eye stood. He was almost certain.

He was proved wrong. The fighter before him barely took a move. Only a breath, and the minuscule spears flying through the air became but only a small speck of debris. It was as if all arrows struck a solid wall, with the very force of the shot destroying all of them as soon as they made contact. The invisible barriers manifested as a set of rings, as shields borne of light. Barely any effort was made by his opponent: only a gesture as if commanding a primal force. The staff, the rings, the effect: no doubt, he was probably against a magician, for upon his still-primal mind only the arcane arts could deal such power. He briefly remembered an old comrade. It briefly reminded him of her, before the rings disappeared upon the sight of everyone. Only a disk remained, brimming with unknown force. Arrek began moving, and the disk moved by its own will, following his movement. A slight observation noted that the disk was aiming for his legs, which could mean a definite bruise or becoming incapable of moving. He could roll at the very moment, but the speed of the disk was faster than his. He could minimize the brunt of the hit, striking another part of the body.

He decided to jump over it. With the disk at inches of his leg, he sprinted and leapt over it, attempting to use the disk as a step. The disk rose with his leap, but Arrek's foreleg caught the surface of the disk. It seemed to be solid, almost as much as the barriers were, but the movement broke his balance. He fell to the ground, taking only a minor bruise from the meeting of the ground and his arms, as he sought to roll and reduce the impact. His legs were safe for now, his arms palpitating with almost negligible pain. He received worse wounds than those, and he paid little attention as he prepared his next move. The distance upon his opponent was closer than before; only one more sprint to reach a point-blank shooting distance, and little more than two sprints as he did right now to engage him in combat. Arrek would take advantage of his distance until either his opponent or he covered the distance. And, as the predator he was, he would lunge forward, pinning his prey to the wall.

A pair of arrows were drawn from his quiver. Only one was placed at the bow's arc, the other hanging from his other fingers. He arced the bow to the sky, as he closed his eyes; from his bow flowed cackling sparks of lightning that enveloped the solitary arrow. The intensity of the sparks was ever-increasing with the length of the bowstring's pull, until the arrow was released to the sky. In that instant, a lightning bolt struck from the sky into the tip of the arrow, and the arrow burst into a projectile of energy itself.

Enough of a distraction for when Arrek, almost possessed, drew the other arrow to his bow and shot a regular arrow straight to his opponent. Enough to see just how effective his opponent's defense was against a strike at two points, at two velocities, at two distinctive points in time.