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[Queztatlapoca]

Eryn tilted he head curiously at his foe who was attempting to make him attack first. "Surely you take me for smarter than that" Eryn sang gleefully. "I am on the high ground and have my footing already" tapping his foot as he said this. "I do think you should engage with me, not the other way around" His light mocking voice always did wonders to brighten Eryn's mood and for some odd reason he couldn't put his finger on, infuriated others to no end. Plus he was speaking the truth after all.

"Now" began Eryn, "As you so plainly put it, "Come on"." The last two words sounded identical to the robed man voice.

[Rytiko]

Cocky bastard. He was correct, however, although it really didn't matter much. Either way, the attack worked more or less the same way.

"So be it, then. First, the snares!" Jarral shouted, stepping forward slightly. He focused on the barrier around his arm and, more for show than purpose, made a chain of ten lightning-fast jabbing motions, each one releasing an explosive shell of holy energy in the direction of his opponent. The explosions would be not much larger than that of a grenade, but with ten, it was a powerful attack. And he still had one hell of a bass drum to work with afterwards...

[Queztatlapoca]

Standing unprepared for such an attack there was little Eryn could do. The first flash exploded throwing him back, followed by the second and third all of which pummeled into him. By this time he had been thrown a good 15 feet into a concrete wall, leaving the other seven explosions to rip through the air harmlessly. He didn't feel burned but parts of him were charred. He felt, almost, like he wanted to end the fight and give up. Then he felt a sharp pain tear through his back. He had probably broken a few back ribs when he hit that wall.

Standing, smile unwavering, he brought his sword back up and said "Nice sound, though you seem to lack rhythm" As he finished saying this he slammed his right heel into the ground. The illusion that was created showed seven or eight Eryn's all overlapping each other. The all copied the original. Though only one was real. "Let us begin" they all spat

[Rytiko]

"I'd commend your skill, if I honestly thought it mattered. It doesn't matter how many of you there may be, as long as I can hit you all simultaneously."

The orb just behind him shot itself forward with awesome speed, and at the same time Jarral hastily moved back. He was not aiming for either of the illusions of his foe, but rather the solid wall behind him. He was confident that his opponent would manage to come out alive, however it did serve as a factor of intimidation. And it was about to test the limits of Jarral as well, because with two orbs gone, he'd have to see how many more stable ones he could make. He may very well have just thrown away nearly half of his power supply.

But it wasn't entirely wasted. Not only would it serve to intimidate the foe, but also to satisfy Jarral. He felt that these ones were more powerful than before. That orb would probably emit enough power to bring down the structural integrity of the building that had saved the man before him from the previous attack. If that collapsed, the man would likely have to learn to cope with the intense amounts of dust that Jarral was accustomed to in fights with Mohan in the desert. It was an entirely different fight at that point, testing not only skill in battle, but a method of breathing.

[Queztatlapoca]

As the orb shot towards him Eryn didn't have time to think, only time to run. He bolted along the wall to the right at the same speed the orb was coming towards where he was. He had cleared the edge of the building when it struck and exploded. A large section of the base was blown out and the rest of the building started coming down. Eryn didn?t see this but he heard it as he continued running through an alleyway. He came to a dead end and looked back readying himself for the power of the foe he was fighting. He was nervous.

[Rytiko]

Once again the opponent's speed proved to be at an inhuman level. Jarral, forced to move by the collapse of the building, attempted to follow to no avail, even with the boost he gave himself with the holy barrier. All he could tell is that the opponent had run into an alley. He could only hope it was a dead end, otherwise he would be at a distinct disadvantage even with the smoke, dust and other small particles engulfing the air around them.

And another problem presented itself. Jarral knew there was no hope for more than one new orb. If it came to a match of skill, he had no doubt that his opponent would be the victor... All he had was power. Loosening the ties around the upper body wrappings a little more, to the point where a small piece of metal was visible to a keen observer, he walked down the alley his opponent had dashed into.

There, encased in a dim light, stood the lithe figure. At the mouth of the dead end was Jarral, emerging from a thick cloud of dust into the relatively clean alleyway. His scarlet eyes, though faced at the opponent, peered far deeper than a normal man's eyes...

[Queztatlapoca]

Eryn smiled as the figure entered the alleyway. "Welcome to my world" he spat. The alley happened to be a mere 5 feet across. With his back against a wall and the much more powerful man approaching, he went the only direction he could. Up. Jumping left he planted one foot on the wall and shot out to the right bounding up the alley. Once he was twenty feet into the air he planted both feet on either side of the wall. He then pulled his legs away from the wall and aimed a drop kick from 20 feet at Jarral.

[Rytiko]

His eyes followed the figure of his enemy up the wall, and he could only wonder what it was that the man was doing as he aimed a kick at him. Gravity would carry the man onto Jarral's blade with only minimal effort.

However, pointing the cutlass upwards did not entirely satisfy Jarral. Not wishing to take any chances, he quickly reformulated the barrier around his body to one thick shield that he held to his left. With his right in the air, he was safe from a direct or left strike, and if the man managed to navigate to the right, then it would take little more than a slash to end this attack. There had to be something more to this...

[Queztatlapoca]

About a foot in front of the blade Eryn shot his legs straight out connecting with the wall. Gravity plus his foward momentum resulted in him pivoting around and under his own legs. As he swung he pulled out one of his single fire muskets in his left hand. When he found himself under the blade nearly face to face with he foe he tensed his legs to stop the rotation. "Hello" he sneered as he pulled the trigger of the gun aimed at the mans chest. The kick back disloged Eyrn from the wall and sent him three feet to land on his back.

[Rytiko]

The movements of Jarral's opponent seemed to progress in slow motion in his mind. In truth, all had happened so fast that he had no time to react, however doom has a way of slowing things down in a man's mind.

The shell rocketed into Jarral's rib cage, ricocheting off the shattering rib to somewhere in his abdominal region. He felt the intense pain from the hot bullet, but was confident that it had hit nothing that would immediately kill him... No, he still had time to turn this fight around.

Regaining his ability to move, he returned the shield-like projection to the thin coating around his body. Hopefully, if it came to another bullet, the barrier would be able to stop or significantly slow the attack. Meanwhile, with his other hand, he loosened the shawl entirely, letting four bands of cotton encased in a brilliantly glowing holy energy fall along his sides. At the end of each was a six inch blade that had once belonged to a katar. Almost immediately, each of the four strips seemed to come to life to protect their owner. Working on forming another orb at the tips of his left index and middle finger, he smirked at his opponent again.

"Impressive, though I doubt you'll get another chance. I have more potential than you in long range combat, and more defense up close. It'll be interesting to see what happens from this point, I think..."

[Queztatlapoca]

"Yada, Yada, Yada. Is all you do talk?" Eryn said mockingly. Even as he spoke he sheathed his rapier and replaced the one of his 10 pistols back into it's hiding spot under his jacket. When his hands came back out he had another gun in each hand. "Lets see how many bullets you can take" he snarled, jumping back another four feet simultaneously firing one gun at the arm building up another of those nasty "orbs" and the other aimed for his opposite shoulder. Before the bullets were halfway to their mark, he had replaced the guns again.

[Rytiko]

Jarral saw the guns come out, and had no more than half a second to react. As far as energy went though, almost no time was required to change its flow. Forcing the orb out prematurely, the crack and flood of energy consumed the bullet headed for his arm. The other connected wi th his shoulder, however Jarral had already moved the barrier into that general area to absorb that bullet.

As it hit, it was not completely stopped - he could feel the force of it pierce the barrier, knocking him slightly off balance. The bullet itself did not pierce skin, however if there were another double shot he knew he could only block one at a time.

'Interesting,' he thought. 'I don't think even Mohan was this much of a threat.' Jarral was having to change his tactics entirely. And, knowing this was his last stable orb for sure, he'd have to start focusing his attacks more.

Guiding the new orb to his blade, he stared out of the alley to the rubble and into his speedy opponent's eyes. The dust cloud was beginning to engulf them, and he could see that the building he had brought down took another with it in the fall. Injured, he would have a challenge defeating him. However, this was his fight now... in his world.

With one massive burst of speed, he was in front of his opponent thrusting his cutlass toward his chest and guiding the blades on the cloth towards him at the same time. It was like lightning, and he released a single grenade shot out of the ten available from the tip of the cutlass. The cloths shot at the sides of the opponent moreso than the opponent himself, intended to restrict dodging ability than to strike...

[Queztatlapoca]

Instead of moving away from the rushing strike, Eyrn attempted to baseball slide between the mans legs. The thrust missed, due to his proximity to the ground, but the outer effects of the blast struck him disorienting him slightly. So he tried, as he slid between his foe's legs to punch one pistol into his foe's crotch, if he felt impact he would pull the trigger, while the other jabbed out to the side of Jarral's knee and agian would pull the trigger in case of impact. As he came to a stop on the other side of him, Eryn stood up reholstered those guns and drew his raiper. He noticed that he couldn't seem to see straight. The blast must have given him a fairly serious concussion. He felt something wet and warm trickling out of his ear.

[Rytiko]

As the rapier-wielding foe slid beneath his strike, Jarral used his momentum to somersault forward. He saw a jab of two pistols, each of which missing him by only a hair. As he did his flip, however, an intense pain gripped his side and brought him to his knees before he had even regained his footing.

Acrobatically, Jarral was through. His rib was only centimeters away from piercing his lung if he made a wrong move. The unfortunate thing was that brute force wouldn't beat this particular foe...

Racing back to his feat before giving his dazed opponent a chance to retaliate, Jarral prepared for an all out assault from this point on. Befor ehe had even finished turning he rushed in towards his opponent, firing a grenade shot as he turned and following closely behind, the blades around his shoulders whipping towards the nearest source of foreign blood. The amulet was silently screaming now. Whoever lost this battle would be its feast... And he couldn't afford to lose now.

[Queztatlapoca]

Eryn, dazed and slightly disoriented, did something he would probably regret. The world around him seemed to slow down. His mind was sending inputs to his body faster then even he could react. As the condensed holy energy approached, he first dropped his rapier, then milliseconds after it had left his hand he pulled out another two pistols fired them both at Jarral and dropped them, pulling two more out blasting away and dropping them. He did the same with his last remaining pair, dropping them he pulled out his last gun. This gun looked nothing like the others though. It was longer, approximately the length of his thigh, which coincidently was where it was hidden. It was also designed for two hands. ((ie. sawed off shotgun)) He pulled the trigger and an instant later the holy burst exploded at point blank range, sending him flying through the air, to land out of the alley broken and battered on a pile of rubble. He could see bone tearing through his flesh on his arm. He also felt blood trickling from his right eye. The rest of his body was scorched with unnatural burn marks. He lay there thinking "this is the end"

[Rytiko]

Jarral barely had time to condense the barrier to absorb the first two shots, and the others followed so closely behind them that there was no way to prevent being hit. With surprising stopping power. But perhaps that wasn't the two shots that had pierced his armor and were working their way into his chest, but rather the two that followed...

Regardless, Jarral was nearly stopped dead in his tracks, throwing h im so off balance that he was now toppling forward... and straight into the fire of a large shotgun. He immediately knew that there was no avoiding this attack through normal means... It would hurt, but not nearly as bad as that thing. Not even close.

He blasted all of the remaining energy from the final orb he had created from the tip of his cutlass. The explosion he had caused not only blasted Jarral away, who was lucky to have the protection of the holy barrier that intensely softened the blow from its fellow energy source, but engulfed the bullets coming towards him as if they were no more than pebbles.

And Jarral was tossed just as mercilessly through the second story window of a nearby building. Like a limp mannequin, he bounced off of the floor that was now covered in glass and onto a desk, which collapsed under his weight. He felt his shattered rib pierce his lung wit h the aid of the desk. He could feel now that the bullets had not hit his heart directly, but judging from the intense amount of blood pouring out of his chest, they had hit an artery.

The amulet seemed to sense that Jarral was dying. It was preparing for a grand feast of not only Jarral's soul, but the souls he had trapped in the stone that now lay in his pocket...

'Wait! THat's it..! If I release another soul, I might be able to mend the major wounds alone!' Jarral hoped. However, the soul was never the probelm with Jarral's power... It was his lack of control. He didn't control the soul properly within his body, which led to him using far more energy than he should. There was no other option now, though...

Grabbing the stone, not without an intense amount of pain, he willed it release another victim into his body. HE felt the surge, and then placed both his hands on his chest - One on his rib, and the other on the holes near his heart. He attempted to apply what little healing ability he had learned...And could only pray to the Gods he had long since forsaken that he be allowed to live.

It would seem that, on this day, the Gods did not favor him. The soul could not be refined with what little energy Jarral had left. Instead of the holy energy he had used before, the lurid intent of Jarral and the evils inhabiting every soul manifested themselves in a surge of darkness unlike any he had every seen. A wave of cold washed over him, seeming to freeze his insides. each limb seemed to go numb, and no signal sent from his brain seemed to make its way through his nervous system.

A supreme pain filled him, and it seemed to intensify with every passing second... His flesh, though cold as ice, seemed to be on fire. He regained power over his muscles, and used them only to cringe and let out a ghastly scream as a testament to the pain he now felt.

At that time, a power foreign to him seemed to move him into an upright position. BUt, oddly, he could see his body on the floor... still crying out in pain. Why was he able to see his body? Why did he feel so... light? He looked to his hands for answers, but could not see them...

The amulet let out a brilliant flash or red light, and he could feel himself engulfed by its power, and being pulled into it. It was over... but his body did not stop crying... It would not stop for some time. And when it did, he seemed to know now, it would rise and seek blood for the amulet. It was a matter of survival for it. It had been on him long enough to learn his fighting style, and he knew it would continue to fight long after his life had ended.

But for now, it was over. With no way for the body to give itself function, there was no way for the amulet to function. When the arena medics resurrected him, however, Jarral's soul would not be present. His body would be filled with naught but a blood lust, and would continue fighting in the arena to gain more and more souls. A fate truly worse than death, yet oddly fitting to Jarral. He had transcended death...

He had won.

[Megell]

Marcus squatted near the entrence to the arena, despite the fact the appearance inside the arena had changed, the people on the outside could peer through the dimensional distortion and watch the fight as easily as they could of if the battle field of choice had been the pit.

Or so the arena staff had told him several times.

Rather he couldn?t really make out the fighters at all, they seemed to be nothing but blurs moving amongst blurs of fuzzy squares. He leaned backwards a bit to try to get a better view of the arena, but instead fell backwards onto his back. The bottle he had been holding in his right hand fell sloppily to the ground next to him, it?s sour contents splashed onto the ground filling the surrounding air with a sterlyizing stench.

Marcus closed his eyes, he really could go for a nap, he felt very sleepy and the world felt hazier. But then he suddenly remembered he needed to study these fights. He really did! He stood up right suddenly from his lying position and went back to his crowch by the pit to entrance.

The blurs appeared to coming to the end of their fight, he vaguely sensed something evil swarm over one of the combatants and then disperse. Something was then different about that fighter, but he couldn?t put his thumb on it? then he forgot what he was doing all together and turned his focus back to the arena.

The pit had reappeared which meant that one of the fighters was now dead or out of commission. The blurry shapes that resembled the medical staff were on the ground picking up the guy who had been knocked out. Marcus smiled; at least with the technology here the guy would be back on his feet again soon. Marcus always was pleased to see that the number of people who actually permanently died here was almost none despite the fact almost everyone had died at least once.

That idea, really cracked Marcus up?

He laughed, then leaned forward a bit, then because of his poor balance fell face first onto the arena floor. Slowly he pulled himself off the ground and looked around, he had just become the next event without him even realizing it.

[Rytiko]

((Since Quez has been going at it nonstop for like 3 or 4 fights now, I guess I'll take this one.))

Draped in crimson and black robes with a hood covering the blank face beneath, a tall man - at least 6'4" - entered the stadium to look upon the drunkard now stumbling before him. If he could feel it, he may have lent him his pity. But the air of evil and ill intent surrounding this man was far greater than even the surge of darkness he had felt before.

For this was a man who had no value at all for life. Not even for his own. He knew no fear, and knew no remorse. He was a crafter. Each fight was a learning experience with potential for the crafting of another form. The question was only what form would be most appropriate for this fight?

He would wait. His opponent's fighting style would help him decide. But, to make sure of no interference, he spoke in a monotonous voice that only gave further insight to his supreme apathy, "No restrictions. Such things exist only for those too weak to fight their own battles. The arena may be of your choice."

[Queztatlapoca]

((thank you O_o))

Farmer John sat at the furthest reaches of the arena. He came here once a day to relax and get away from the stress of his laborious job. Running a farm in an underground cave wasn't the easiest job in the world.

He would come, watch a fight, and leave. He never could imagine that he might enter the arena, he knew nothing of combat, warfare, or spellcraft. No, his days were slow and mundane, just the way he liked them.

[Megell]

Marcus squatted with his back turned to his opponent at about ten meters away. He looked around the arena semi confused, he was lost on how he had gotten into this place to begin with. Glancing left, then right, up then down, then right again followed by the same process again. He was in a sense of utter confusion and chaos. That was until the man his opponent spoke up.

"No restrictions. Such things exist only for those too weak to fight their own battles. The arena may be of your choice."

Marcus? head turned around from its rapid squatting motion and faced the man before him. In the back of his mind he vaguely recalled seeing him around the arena several times before hand, but he was pretty sure it wasn?t in the pit, which meant that they weren?t fighting?

But then Marcus remembered that his opponent HAD told him to specify an arena, why would he do that if they weren?t fighting! The way this man did stupid things infuriated Marcus; he would make sure that the other guy knew that they weren?t fighting by punching it into him. Marcus Stood fully upright at this point, the motion caused him to stumble slightly backwards as he did. He pointed in at the man in the black fuzzy thing and said in a rather slurred angry voice.

?Ur Betteh stop doin? things lick tha- orrrr yo migh? piss meh off!?

The man however still stood there in his stupid way and kept blurring back and forward? another stupid thing! When would this idiot stop pissing him off? Marcus stomped his right foot into the ground which caused him to stumble slightly forward. As he regained his composure he pointed his left hand forward and pointed slightly off to the mans right and said.

?s?lright budeh you ashek for h?it!?

And with that Marcus focused a sizable amount of chi into his leg muscles (fire, earth, and physical aura for the record.) and charged at his new opponent at a phenomenal speed. As he approached he through a punch directly at his opponents jaw. ?That?ll stop him annoying me?, Marcus thought.

((oh, and note, he hasn't even declared an arena and junk. This is just him going beserk. I'm not even sure this would count as an offical fight. So in essence, you don't have to follow any of the arena rules at all! [The in game ones I mean.]))