Tournament of Red Lions: Round Three

[Cosenticus]

Battle 1: NintendoGod vs. Erdawn
Battle 2: Atmos vs. Wyborn

And your judges are...

1. Shinigami (host)
2. Lycrios
3. Luigi007

Some general regulations for the participants:

1. Transformations are allowed. Should your character possess the skill to transform into a planet a la Unicron, or say you’re Satan and part of your act is to transform into the appearances of others, I have good news: you can. Want to be a werewolf? Change into one in the fight. The only rule and stipulation is that damage done to one form is carried over to the other. 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 George Bush lost his arm he’s screwed, sorry guys.) The only thing is that you can’t heal the damage done to your body. For instance, if you lose your arm and reattach it, you probably won’t have great mobility with that arm, and it will hurt like Hell. Be realistic and fair when healing above all else.

3. All battles will occur in the same topic. This is rather self-explanatory, and it seems superfluous to add any more detail. If you don’t get it, I don’t know what to say to you.

4. The first to post chooses the field on which their fight occurs. Again, obvious.

And, in case anyone has forgotten...

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 will say when the executions are executed. At that point, you can kill your opponent if you wish, though you aren’t bound to do it, it’s encouraged that you FINISH THEM Should your character die, fret not – they aren’t permanently deceased, for deaths here don’t seep into other topics unless you desire it.

This round will end on Friday, July 29th, at 11:00 PM EST.

FIGHT!

[Omni_Link]

wyborn you shall be my latest victim of battlefield confusion...lets play at...FINAL FANTASY 9'S LINDLUMB CASTLE!...I shall make the first post to give you a little insight on it...good luck and may the best man rip apart the other

[NintendoGod]

Hmm... For our arena, I'll try something interesting: an airship terminal. On the very edge of a floating city, a metal girdered covered platform that hosts all sorts of flying craft coming to and fro. There are plenty of closed halls and open spaces, as well as the airships themselves as they fly in and out. It's large enough to host our mayhem, and provides interesting problems if you fall off

I'll add in my post later...

[Omni_Link]

ooc: how ever it's spelled....I'm tired of the run of the mill battlefield. I like varity. original battlefields are cool to those who say they are, not me. but forget it no one seems to like my places so lets just fight in an endless field...oh joy I can hardly contain myself(sarcasim)

Atmos stood light reflecting off his dark armor that he had reinforced after it got riped to shreds in his first match in the tourney. He had his wings folded behind him but quivering in anticipation. he looked around waiting for his opponent to show spear waiting in hand.

[NintendoGod]

The sun bathed down over the open skies with a warming aura, coating the almost empty blue with an almost soothing feel. However, part of the sky was dominated by a seemingly out-of-place object; a city, kept aloft with repulsors and propellors, surrounded by swarms of smaller craft coming and going. The city, simply named Station #13, hung effortlessly amidst the clouds. The planet it hovered over, it's landmasses small, harsh, and quite inhospitable, had quickly been left by it's inhabitants. With an rapid and incredible grasp of technology for their time, they had built dozens of aircraft of various styles and designs and took flight from their birthlands, quickly using this ingenuity of the air to slowly design and quickly construct entire civilizations in the sky. This old station was one of the original platforms they had built, and was not very large. But even for it's age, it was still a bustling hub for trade and commerce, and as such the skies were flooded with aircraft of all sorts. Zeppelins, fixed-wing aircraft, and even the rarer, true airships, flying metal boats with propellors and engines to keep them aloft. Despite flying along almost every possible tangent, these floating macinations congregated around the main 'port' for the station - A metal encased floating airdock connected to the city itself through griders, plating, and taut, metal cables. The multi-tiered structure catered to dozens of aircraft at a time, servicing even more craft at rapid launch bays. One such bay was rapidly occupied as a transport ship, the title Marine Blue painted across it's starboard hull plates, floated down and latched onto the bay's personnel tube. Only a single passenger departed, and the ship left just as quickly as it had arrived, it's pilot no doubt eager to continue his route.

Lucius strode down the metal ramp, his boots making a light clanking as he walked into the central plaza of the structure. It connected to all areas of the airport, and included the ubiquitous shopping, food, and departure districts. Lucius, however, wasn't really interested in any of them. He was intent on waiting for his opponent to arrive. He didn't really want to just stand around, either; a few passerby gave him odd looks as he glanced around the large, open room; armed warriors in bright clothing weren't exactly commonplace. So, getting an odd sense of deja vu, he strode over to a bench near the side wall and sat down, giving an idle glance towards the central fountain, a large statue commemmorating some forgotten battle, and waited...

[ July 24, 2005, 04:47 AM: Message edited by: NintendoGod ]

[Erdawn Il Deus]

Originally posted by Atmos the Dragon Knight:
ooc: how ever it's spelled....I'm tired of the run of the mill battlefield. I like varity. original battlefields are cool to those who say they are, not me. but forget it no one seems to like my places so lets just fight in an endless field...oh joy I can hardly contain myself(sarcasim)

Look... dude. Use your imagination. An endless field isn't an original BF (not to make you change again, just trying to help). The beauty of an original battlefield is that you can use concepts you've seen before, but maybe in a completely different local. Example? In my DOOM topic(ignoring the fact I took a location from Turok and a generic city), for the battle between Erdawn and Fury, I selected a sort of forest made up of miles-high marble pillars. Where did I get the idea? Remember Mortal kombat? The movie? Where Scorpion attacks Cage? The forest was practically man-made - the trees were all lined together all perfectly. but it was still a forest. But I think stone columns/temples are cool. If you like an arena from a videogame, you don't need to use the whole ****, just parts of it, meybe. MK is actualy a damn good source of inspiration. As are most fighting games. Think Quan Chi's soul palace from from DA.

At least, for the love of God don't say "We fightin' in Midgar, pards!" Give some description - hell, describe it so you don't even need to say where your fighting. Let them figure it out. Or don't let ém. make them think you used something original. Hell, whatever.

Anyways, posting now, *****es.
And speaking of DOOM, post, damn you Wy.

[ July 25, 2005, 04:01 PM: Message edited by: Icy Hendrix ]

[Erdawn Il Deus]

His booted footsteps clocked off the metal girded floor like a bell toll, rythmic and consistent. Lucius might have heard him coming, perhaps sensed him otherwise, neither case mattered much as the warrior brushed off his pants and stood up, stretching, popping a few disks in his back, all in all glad his wait was over.

-And who is my next opponent?- he thought, looking at the walking man, who was turning his head nonchalantly and looking down the long emptiness that seperated Station 13 from the scorched earth and clouds miles below. he could feel the people's eyes upon him, and half-wished they were fighting on the baked earth of the wasteland he had little love for cities, at least, as a battlefield. Maybe the citizens got the message - after a few whispeed looks at the newcomer and the man standing before him, they took the message and slinked the hell away, fast or slow depending on the levels of pride.

"Station 13, eh?" the newcomer asked in a bass voice. "Never heard of it. Seems lively enough."

"Do you always talk before fighting?" Lucius said, cutting off any pretense of conversation.

"Only before killing." The newcomer smiled. His hair was slicked back in curls, and oddly or ordinarily enough considering this particular tournament, a pale, icy blue, with matchingly glacial grey eyes and an elegantly trimmed beard. He was armoured in the usual - a cuirass of boiled leather sewn with glittering steel armour plates, bare-arm and skirted with leather and mail, his legs bare save for the knee-high Greco-Romanesque sandals. "But consider yourself lucky - had this been in the wasteland below, you would probably have met Yuri." Erdawn let the comment die and set his weaponry. Bandoliers and belts of glinting ammunition cartridges and assorted throwing weapons - stars and kunai - hung from criss-crossed loops circling his waist and chest, three sheathed swords from the right hip, tomahawks and axes and daggers from the left and down his thigh, along with an assortment of pouches and satchels. From his back hung a metallic rifle and a compound bow along with suited arrows.

"Erdawn, longhunter of Cimmera of Galilee, of Middle-World." he stated, unslinging the long, bulky rifle and aiming the muzzle down Lucius's chest, lighting it up with a triangular pattern of targeting lights. His adversary hissed and was moving with all the trained instinct he needed and he followed suit, opening up with a fullmetal-jacketed spray of plasmic-explosive rounds, lighting up the metal grating of the air-port in a cluster of hot, blinding flashes and the staccato cracks of automatic bullet fire.

OoC: Getting pressed for time - I'm going to try and use the PCs availible at the closest library until I have a working PC.

[Alucard]

*Pops in*

I hope these people didn't forget about this one...

[NintendoGod]

Lucius leapt over the low wall containing one of the plaza's planters, dropping prone as another burst of ordinace ripped through the air, cratering the far wall. He didn't have his magnums with him, but he did have an alternative option; his right hand drew a small custom handgun from within the left side of his cloak. Despite it's size, it packed a 15 round clip and a load of experimental APFSHEDS rounds, and was capable of punching through most personal body armor with ease. Erdawn was moving, preparing to flank Lucius's cruddy cover as he continued to suppress his opponent with his heavy rifle. Lucius counted to two, then rolled, coming up on the opposite side of the concrete and metal wall with his gun up, firing a quick burst of two shots. Both missed, but were able to force Erdawn to duck behind the fountain. Before he could move again or return fire once more with his rifle, Lucius quickly focused and channeled some magic. Then, rising from his crouch, he dashed across the open space between them, crossing the distance like quicksilver, jumping as he reached the fountain's edge. In one bound he cleared the fountain, coming down to Erdawn's left. As he jumped, he hostered the handgun with one hand and, with the other, drew his short sword from it's concealed sheath in the opposite half of his cloak. Just over a foot in length, the sword was pure black, and thinner than the eye could discern. As he came down, he swept the deadly weapon towards Erdawn.

However, the cimmeran wasn't without his wits; he bent backwards, barely dodging the weapon as it continued on, cleaving through the statue with no effort on the wielder's part before drawing itself out and slashing for him once again. He moved backwards, drawing out one of his daggers and setting it in a horizontal guard as Lucius came relentlessly onward. He stepped in, Lucius coming to the side with a diagonal slash towards him, and quickly parried the sword aside with a hit to the flat of the blade. Lucius came again, and the two fought for a short time, parries and quick cuts, fighting slowly backwards towards one of the walls. Then, Erdawn made a deft parry and rolled, coming up to Lucius's left and drawing one of the swords from it's sheath. He came forward to cut across Lucius's chest, when suddenly Lucius gestured, and a cloud of smoke blasted outward, instantly filling a few yards around the two with a thick grey haze. The smoke burned at Erdawn's senses like tear gas, and he could barely see anything around him. A split second later, acting on a bare hunch, he suddenly dodged, as a bullet ripped through the fog. He turned, sword at the ready, to see Lucius's matte-black handgun barely a foot from his face, ready to plant a bullet in his forehead at point-blank range.

[L007 is Undecided]

Come on, people, two days left...

[Omni_Link]

er...um...well...I don't have any moves. I'm on a mental block now. sorry wyborn but your gonna have to take this round. I have to much on my mind right now...again sorry

[ZIPPYDIPPY19]

[img]graemlins/lol.gif[/img] This round is great.

[Cosenticus]

We can always have a...WILD CARD!!!

In all seriousness, though, I'm about to kick someone's ass. I mean, I don't want to have a joke of a final round. I'd rather not delay it for a week, either.

Don't make me get the baseball bat.

[Cosenticus]

I have my judgings readied and prepared; however, after reviewing the content and my verdicts, I've decided to extend the deadline to Sunday, July 31st. This is a direct result of the lack of content thereof, and because it thus hinders my (and probably the other judges') ability to confirm a position. I am hoping this extension will provide more than enough time for possibly a couple more posts in both fights.

[Erdawn Il Deus]

Oh thanks, man. Thanks. At the library, now. Will prolly be able to crank out a few more posts before Sunday. *happy*

*posting*

This really rocks - whether or not I win or NG wins and fights either Wy or Atmos (although it's looking like Wy if Atmos doesn't post [img]tongue.gif[/img] ), it'd suck the balls if the final wasn't great. And if I manage to come out on top of NG... well, this computer **** is slowing me down. I'd like to have something worth remembering.

[Erdawn Il Deus]

The bore of Lu’s handgun opened before Erdawn like a swallowing, unquenchable maw, bearing down deep into a darkness obstructing the readied round. His eyes flashed. -Oh Christ no time— and there was no time, no time for spells or heated kunais or any form of hidden weaponry, just a barrel, a bullet, and one chance to live that even now was nipping at the Cimmeran’s heels. So he moved – not on foot, because then Lucius would trail him, but at the neck – snapping his head to one side, ignoring the warm stretch of pain in his neck cords, the white deafened silence as the firearm went off inches from his face, or the hot sting as the rigged bullet neatly tore off the upper portion of Erdawn’s right ear, bearely clipping the skull and drawing red lines across the air with his blood.

-Oh Christ,- he thought, -Oh Christ he’ll wish he never let it sink in.-

Not even a second had passed, and for all Lucius knew, Erdawn’s skull was looking much like an Indian canoe and his brains in tattered garters, and the slow awareness that his opponent was still moving though he should have been dead with cadavrous lethargy. His ears still ringing, the longhunter drove his knife upwards through Lucius’s arm, planting razor steel through the part in his forearm, and twisting with ridiculous strength and great hatred.

Snap.

The cold sound rang out sharp and hard, and Lucius only felt pain after blood was brushed up and down his cheeks, after he looked down at the limp, bent stick of his arm, which wasn’t hanging right and was bulging in two places. His gun clattered to the ground.

”AAAAAAAAAU—“ he cut of his scream through biting teeth and groaned and teared, swinging his sword in an arc, confused by agony, surprise. Erdawn hit the ground in a roll, fighting as his stomach boiled with nausea, and kicked out high at the back of the warrior’s thigh, his heel bashing the man’s syatic nerve like a battering ram, exploding pain up his back and hip and locking up his leg like a block of solid, tepid ice. Lucius gritted his teeth, fought through, and drove the point of his blade downward horizontally across his chest, spearing into the longhunter’s skull and dragging a tear over his right eye and bouncing off bone. Erdawn staggered back, Lucius stumbling, trying to hammer his leg into feeling, the Cimmeran’s blood splashing off the grid-work of the port and dripping to the section below in a rain of droplets. His head reeled, ears still half-deaf from the gunshot, his rifle dropped at some point during the exchange. He still had some advantage, though, and he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to use it. Smacking the palm of his hand downward on the metal floors of the station, he quickly drew upon any interior reserves of energy he could – call it Chakra, Chi, Ki, Light, Life, whatever it was didn’t matter. A throbbing red glow spread from his fingertips -- a liquefied bed of coals, creeping across the floor, steam smoking off its edges with a shrill whistling. He pushed, and the light expanded, and metal boiled and glowed and the carpet of molten fire raced across the deck and swallowed everything beneath’s Lucius’s feet before he could stagger away. He managed to let out a gasp as the grid floor gave away in a gust and spray of liquid metal orange and white, tongues of hellish yellow and gold racing up his body in a suffocating blanket, licking out before dissapearing completely. He hit the next tier like a firebomb, washed down with hot chunks of the ceiling above and honeyed globs of blinding, melted steel, his pride stopping him from screaming and the resourcefulness of his instincts from giving up and dying there.

Erdawn got to his feet, rolling his shoulders, blood running down his right cheek and stinging his eye. He wiped it away as best he could but mostly it simply clung like a haphazard mess of war-paint, matting with his hair. The stench of cooked flesh rose up from beneath the cooling gash in the floor, which had sunk with craterous insistence, drooping sadly to the port tier beneath. -If I tried hard enough, I could drop him from the city. All I need is time.-

And there was always time.

[ July 29, 2005, 03:29 PM: Message edited by: Icy Hendrix ]

[Lycrios]

Ah well ****...I won't be anywhere near a pc on the 31st, so, expect my judging hopefully the day after. If not, a day after that.

[Erdawn Il Deus]

OoC - As a heads up, I probably won't be able to post later today (meaning Sunday) before the Tourney end - was actually hoping to reply to something this morning. C'est la vie. Short but sweet battle, NG. We have to do this again.

Course, maybe my luck will turn.

[NintendoGod]

OoC: Dangit. I was going to reply last night, but couldn't finish the post. Sorry, man >.<
We will have to pick this up again some other time, though [img]tongue.gif[/img]

Lucius vanished down the hole in a wash of molten metal; Even as he hit the floor below he was moving, rolling away from the melted floor even as the glowing steel burned away at the armored fabric of his cloak. He grimaced as his arm lolled at his side, dead weight; he hadn't expected the knife to pierce the metal fabric, but he had underestimated the cimmeran's vengeance. Stupid. For now, though he was more concerned with the liquid metal burning through his clothes; he could smell burned flesh, which was never good. As he rose into a crouch, gritting his teeth against the pain, he summoned some energy and blasted a sphere of cold air out around him; the frigid air instantly froze the metal and most of the moisture around him aswell. It wasn't much of a fix, but it worked. He turned and watched the dripping ceiling, wondering how he would get out; Erdawn was probably watching the hole for his return. However, as he slowly started to grin, he realized he didn't need to be so obvious. Reaching his one working hand back, he grasped a small handle, drawing a hand-axe from his belt. Concealed near the small of his back, it was barely a foot in height. Then, with a twirling motion, he twisted the handle, releasing a good length of pole from it in a single quick move. Then, a plan forming, he focused and began summoning energy...

Erdawn, meanwhile, was busy recollecting his rifle. Taking a quick sweep, he spotted it lying forgotten by the fountain, barely a few meters away. Making sure to watch the hole carefully, he backtracked towards the heavy weapon, quickly scooping it up and ejecting the chambered round in favor of a new one. Then, he moved towards the hole.

He got about halfway there when the ground beneath him exploded outward as a pillar of pure stone sent him airborne. He took a moment to wonder how there could even be a sheet of bedrock on a floating platform of metal, then twisted in mid-air, dodging around it and landing off to the side. As he turned, stepping back from the pillar, it suddenly seemed to reform, as if the stone was amorphous in nature; in half a second the bottom half snaked out and shot up, flipping the cimmeran's leg from beneath him; as he fell backwards, the pillar fell forwards, and the two met rather painfully. The tower of stone smacked him into the ground, then reformed again, tossing him into the air like a catapult; Erdawn noted that the pillar was not truly solid, but rather millions of peices of smaller rocks and gravel and dust concealed into a single form. As he fell towards the wall, he drew out his knife and braced himself, stabbing into the thin metal wall and using it as a brace to slide down to the floor relatively safely. Then he moved towards the stone.

As it re-formed yet again, he ducked beneath a suddenly formed limb and leapt over a second, a sudden pinwheeling form of stone appearing around him. A second dodge, a duck, and he stabbed his knife down onto the fourth plange, snapping it from the main body with a single deft blow; the stone broke into sand and fell away. Then a fifth arm appeared and nailed him in the chest, tossing him backwards. He landed, strode forward, and then two things happened.

First, the stone enemy, which had begun to reform itself yet again, suddenly collapsed into dust. The second was a sudden hit in the back of the ankles by a pole of some kind. His legs were swept from beneath him as Lucius, having come from the side, weilding a new weapon with suprising grace; a one and a half meter long pole, tipped with a head that looked like a mix between a double-edged halberd and a mace. As he continued his swing, he pirouetted, coming around and bringing the flat of the axe into Erdawn's chest, slamming his airborne form to the ground. His breath wooshed from him and he felt a snap, probably a rib giving way. Erdawn quickly rose, and tried to jump back, but not fast enough; the axe moved with speed that seemed improbable for it's length, and the sharp edge jammed into his leg; the bone stopped the edge, but he felt at least one tendon give way. As he hit the ground again, barely managing to land on one leg, Lucius continued his assault, the axe-staff poised to drive it's three points into his chest...

[ July 31, 2005, 07:33 PM: Message edited by: NintendoGod ]

[Erdawn Il Deus]

-ohchristGodroll!— Three steel prongs slammed into the space where the longhunter had been lying less than seconds ago, coming too close to collapsing his chest cavity for good measure. He slapped a knuckled hand around the shaft and another off the metalworked grid holding the prongs. Heat sloshed out and wrapped around both steels, metal ran soft as putty and hot as fire, melting over the weapon’s point, and just as quickly it cooled and hardened as the Cimmeran drew his heat back. Lucius pulled on the pole, ready to sweep it again and cut his adversary’s throat – his elbows knocked as the pole tightened, stuck fast, and unexpected.

Erdawn lifted his rifle almost languidly.

Blam!

The impact rattled Lu’s bones – something punched into his chest, not piercing the armour but pounding it in, crushing his lungs, making it hard to breath – he was practically knocked off his feet, backpedalling with eyes almost bulging from the sockets and blood from his lips. He hacked loudly, in pain or surprise.

-Need to hurt him drastically, bring this to a close.- Erdawn threw the spent rifle to his side and resolved to make good use of his new vaulting pole – the tight pain in his chest and the hot-stinging screech of wounded flesh thrumming off his leg told him he wouldn’t be able to clear the distance fast enough on foot. As Lucius tried to regain some sense of composure – balance – the longhunter reached up and pulled down on the make-shift halberd with every ounce of strength available, bending it like a willow bow and pushing cords from the tendons in his arms. Lucius struggled forward, cracks striking lines across his armour – an eyebrow raised at whatever the hell Erdawn was trying to do.

The longhunter looked his way, and with a hiss, let snap the pressure. It was like watching a botched trebuchet swing a human being at an English castle. The tension exploded into swinging power and the Cimmeran rode the pole as it whipped him up and around at Lucius like a bullet, letting go at precisely the right moment and stretching out his leg at the opportunity, smashing the business-end of his heel into the warrior’s nose and mouth. Teeth cracked chips of enamel and blood spurted from busted capillaries and Lu’s upper-lip broke like a dam, red misting the air and the hollow thump of impact filling the world. His vision exploded warm and slow with black stars, his head corkscrewing back and to the side and he fell hard on his shoulder blades, sliding across the bumpy floor.

Of course, his attacker fared little better; an interesting idea… but perhaps not the best of choices. Erdawn hit the metal ground in a flop like a hooked fish, the strain on his formerly good like calling insistently with the obnoxious volume of a hammer-blow, his shoulder banging off the ground and the sharp cocking of everything above his shoulders loosing a tooth from his jaws, but he was grinning – through blood and pain. Hell, he could have been smiling. He pushed himself up, stupid pain still antagonizing his body, but smiling, and rolled his shoulders. Lucius was getting up as well, determined to keep fighting despite a temporary spell of confusion by blurred vision and a thundering headache. He slopped blood from his face, trying to fight his enemy with baleful urgency. Erdawn sucked in a calming breath. -I think it’s time to lay down the cards and see how far it takes me,-

He closed his eyes, and thought of nothing. He put everything away – threw it into a bonfire of mental power and let nothing distract him, taking advantage of Lu’s delusion, and in that void he sought out faces, his teacher Yuri, his wife, his father – and through them other faces. Faces terrible and awesome and gentle and beautiful – and suddenly strength flowed into his core and radiated from the cavity of his chest, burning hot-white and baking his skin. The face and paws of Mir burned the air around him in a godly silhouette – the Maker of Earth, the Bear, its pelt of long silver hair glittering like the stuff of stars and its eyes swirling with the knowledge and care of all life and strengh – the muscles of his arms sparked with energy, spitting hot white from his elbows to his knuckles and fingernails, tightening into iron-hard balls.

Mir, the Earth, and then the Sky, and the shattering roar of cerulean emptiness, rain and sundered spears of lightning and wind and storms drew itself up alongside the Earth, a brilliant white tiger, Shardik the Sky. Tatoos on his face and arms found a deeper purchase in reality and both ghostly silhouettes circled around his body, energies flaming into presence in tongues, the Bear and the Tiger, air pulled around him, buffeting the city itself, so far below the earth trembling… his eyes opened, and they were white – white only because nothing else could encapsule the sheer radiance of their colour.

Lucius tore his gaze to his enemy – who seemed cloaked by the giant spirits of animals, power rolling off his every pore. He drew a short, straight dagger, blinked his eyes and ran forward – -can’t let him use the power, stop him, kill him, hurt him- he shut the gulf between them in seconds, striding with impossible velocity, staring at Erdawn and his storm of gods across a gulf of inches…

-WHAM-

The Cimmeran brought his foot down in a stomp, and Mir drew himself up and the impact shook everything – Lucius bounced – right up into the air, his legs kicking, and Erdawn drew back his fist and Shardik wrapped himself around his muscles like a coiled bedspring of power, and he pistoned his arm forward in a tiger-fist, striking Lucius in mid-air somewhere near the solar-plexus or sternum. Thump. The sheer power bent him in two, stomping him inside and pumping his stomach and shattering ribs like fibreglass. Blood spewed from his throat, mixed his own puke, and the shock came and threw him backwards, ripping his body around in a circle on centrifugal forces he couldn’t hope to comprehend.

Earth and Sky sucked away, and Erdawn fell forward as Lucius punched through the war-statue, blasting stone entrails and marble chips from it like raindrops. That didn’t matter; strength had left him like water from a sieve. His wound throbbed, and he shook with convulsions. He had barely any strength left, for now, and if that hadn’t either crippled or killed his opponent he was in big trouble.

He spat a wad of blood through his lips and looked up through the dust, waiting to see if Lucius would surface, spent and sore.

OoC - Sorry about the lenght, but seeing as I had so little posts, I decided to go full-blast. Hope you like! Damn good attle, NG.