Joined: Apr 2009 Gender: Male Posts: 5 Location: Within the human psyche... Karma: 0
Nosferatu, as we've agreed. « Thread Started on Apr 27, 2009, 6:28pm »
This is a T-1 bout set as a spar in a common gladatorial arena. Not a collieseum but a replica much smaller: perimeter-wise.
The fight is without any form of weaponry or armor but a bare handed combat that will involve any form of technique as long as no foreign object is allowed other than that organically attached to one's self such as a limb.
The setting of time is high noon with the sun looming overhead a cloudless sky and the only apparel allowed to each combatant is any shirt and form of leggings made of nothing but linen. Footwear is broad in range as long as no foreign attachments are included aside from lace/heel/straps and soles.
The combatants are: [Orikalkos] Phanes and Nosferatu
*Personal note: I hope I fulfill your expectation, Nos. I thank you for this challenge.*
The architecture of the scaled down arena was beyond imagination. The pillars in their doric fashion stood firm and tall, towering over the seemingly endless rows of benches lining the inner cloister of the coliseum in an eliptical fashion like a sea of marble stands; empty and whistling with the passing wind that upheaves the mists of dust from the heart of the gladiator's pit.
Clattered petals from an earlier ceremony were lain across the sands; already indented with the earlier markings of the previous fighters and their footsteps that had lead atleast one of them to their death. The inner walls that barred the combatants any escape from battle were smeared and sodden with collections of blood stains and collected sand unto droplets formed whilst the sanguine, in its earlier spill; dared to trickle down to the arena floor of grainy terra.
The two entrances set opposite eachother on two opposing sides of the arena clearly gaped wide and yawning to the sandy heart of the fighter's pit whilst the brooding darkness in their maws kept true to a blackness as dark as one in the darkest cave, just a place where unknown horrors could form in the back of the mind in one glance of the nigrescent canvas of emptiness.
This was the backwater town's Arena, where civil and sportman-like disputes were settled: one victor, one dead. The old ways of life and how it dictated who was strong and who was weak.
Though the purpose of their visit to this place was purely for sport in a form of a deadly spar, the arena alone imposed an aura unwelcoming to any form life that dared try to remain alive within...
Re: Nosferatu, as we've agreed. « Reply #1 on Apr 27, 2009, 8:28pm »
Stories had always contained a bit of fact and fiction, endless chapters filled with the glorious tellings of ancient beings who defied the laws and gave way to a new age. In later years those stories would change, more would be added, some taken away. There would be stories about new beings, new people who did what they had to do to survive. Beings who, after each telling, would become bigger heroes than originally intended in the first telling. It was something that was inevitable, but it was perhaps improper. However, in the next age perhaps the stories would contain various tellings of Nosferatu's wonders.
He had single-handedly dispatched several factions of the Russian Mafia whom had set up shop in his hometown of Brooklyn, New York. His own father, who had been one of the few members of the Russian Mafia to have become "untouchable", had been dispatched at his hand. Though, his reason for murdering his father had been completely different than those for the others. He deemed himself a criminal, as did all of the law-enforcement agencies. He was on the run in a remote part of the world. A part of the world in which he figured no one would ever look for him. It was here, that he stumbled upon an architectural designation for what was known as a Coliseum. However, the place was much smaller than he had heard such places were, perhaps it was an Arena for some Midget Group who had ruled this land long ago, who knew. All he knew was that he felt a strange drawing to the place.
This same strange longing also took a warning, he felt a disturbance in the air. He didn't know what it was, but he was prepared for it. Normally his mental abilities with telekinetic properties would be enough, but this close to the Coliseum they felt weak, almost non-existent. Odd as it was he followed this strange longing. Taking careful calculated steps toward the Arena. When he reached an area of ten meters from the building he felt his mental powers go completely. "This isn't natural, this is, weird" He said, as he continued toward the entrance to the Arena. As he reached the steps he noticed one set leading up, and one leading down. They fell along the side of a corridor that lead straight down the center of the Arena. He knew where this corridor would take him, and yet it was a place he knew he had to enter.
His body moved down the corridor, cautiously. He didn't know what he would find in this place, but he knew it wouldn't be good. Everything in his mind screamed for him to turn around and go back, to make whatever was within the Arena come out and face him. At the same time, he knew that it would be a useless thing, so he continued onward. His hands balled into fists, as he reached an iron Gate. He knew this was the place where he would wait, the place where he would prepare himself for the bout to come. He knew now that it would be a battle, the Arena, the Iron Gate, they all screamed battle ahead.
With that knowledge in mind, his torso appendages moved. Bringing the hands to wrap around his medium length golden hair. Tying it up in a pony-tail kinda deal, he stood prepared. His day's worth of beard showing a five o' clock shadow along his chin. He cycled through the thoughts in his mind, the styles of fighting he knew. Choosing four of them to being the fight with, and more of the twenty he knew would come if needed. The four he chose were; Jujitsu, Capoiera, Hung Gar, and Long Fist. Those focused through his mind as he began to recall to himself the movements of each, and the best way to meld them together.
Joined: Apr 2009 Gender: Male Posts: 5 Location: Within the human psyche... Karma: 0
Re: Nosferatu, as we've agreed. « Reply #2 on Apr 27, 2009, 9:14pm »
The bearing sun roared mighty warmth only one possibly close to hell would ever feel, the tides of searing pain from beams of mighty Helios would not let up on his already drenched body and granted him the burden of a soaked head rag that leaked sweat cascading down his body.
The range of his muscles pulsated with the beads of sweat trickling down his hardened mesomorphic domicile as the upheaval of bronze sand dirtied his wet skin, irritating him with the coarse texture of "drought-soil" as he called it...
The barren battlefield was hazing in the shifting sands from passing gentle gales streaming past the whole premises; whirling sand into small spirals but inches from the ground near his sandalled feet as he looked out towards the surroundings.
The marble seats, devoid of audience made him wonder why he had come to this place...a magnetic force of some sort beckoned him from his long journey through the ghost town, drawing him to the pit of death only used in times of ceremony by the neighbouring city.
"I wonder...what's this feeling I've been having all day. It's not natural..."
What more was he expecting to find beyond in this dry patch amidst marble architecture reminscent of the early Romans?
He awaited some divine answer but it looked as if the Heavens had turned him a deaf ear...that was until "he" arrived.
A figure caught his sight all the way down at the other end of the arena, where the opposite entrance facing the center of the pit yawned to him like a void of black revealing a man existing the darkness.
Without a moment's thought, he had already formulated that though the Heavens payed no attention...Hell was certainly listening.
The aura emitting from the man's form evidentely showed of someone who had killed, who had taken life just as he had and all he knew in his heart was something stirred inside him...not some anima-stricken pulse or some electrical crackle hidden neathe' his skin...It was curiosity, it was fear and it was also a rampaging feel of anger.
He remained calm; the flutter of his shawl draped over his head and exposed body danced to the meandering winds, seemingly filled with fervid delight to thrash around the arena and toss sand every which way whilst he stood there, calm and collected...a bottle of lightning sealed tight.
"So...thats the only way I'll ever know..."He thought to himself.
The match was set, the pieces in place and it was his turn to move. He started down to the center of the collieseum, issuing a display that it was time for them to clash. He was but donned in a pair of shorts an inch over the knees with a naked body of lean built muscles and a shawl that covered his shoulders and head...a piece of clothing he discarded to show the man on the other side he was ready. Though he displayed courage...his heart and soul was far away from that feeling...He had to fight, his answer lied with this man.
The wavering of his tresses, gnarled and slightly short; bounced with approval on the ride of the wind as he put on one last guise of bravery in the form of a smile.
Re: Nosferatu, as we've agreed. « Reply #3 on Apr 29, 2009, 3:27am »
Nosferatu had remained in his predetermined destination throughout the whole affair of the opponent. However, as the man came within arm's reach of himself he implemented a series of movements that would ultimately begin the path down the road of the man's death. The first of these movements began with Nosferatu's body dropping to the ground, and landing on his hands he began to shift his form. He spun off his right hand, and brought his lower body upward in the same movement. This caused his right foot to swing around, and come, without any kind of warning, toward the side of the opponent's head.
The implemented strike, however, was not the one that was intended to hit. The point of intended contact came to the gut of the opponent, where there was a very small degree of warning. The man would not be able to block them both, one of the movements would hit and which one would determine the outcome of the fight. If the foot into the side of his head made contact, the man would be groggy, possibly even knocked out from the sheer momentum of the strike. However, if the movement of his left foot hit the gut of the man, it would knock him backward, onto the ground, and leave him breathless for a moment, which would give him ample time to re-act to his own movements with a follow up series of strikes.
All that was left, was to see which would come first. What would the outcome of this movement be, perhaps the man would find a way to keep from being hit by both movements, if he did it would be amazing. As he had little to no warning of the movements, thus he would have to re-act sheerly on a "just finding out" which would of course cause his reaction time to be slower than he it would be were the moves telegraphed by some external means. Of course, there was always the subject of the man countering his motions, but he already had a plan set into action for just such an occasion.
Joined: Apr 2009 Gender: Male Posts: 5 Location: Within the human psyche... Karma: 0
Re: Nosferatu, as we've agreed. « Reply #4 on Apr 29, 2009, 3:27pm »
The heat was unbearable but the heavenward sand was even more a chagrin than he had thought. The thrash of the bronze terra beset with pelting grain was enough to set his already alarmed state into its own pursuit of movement.
His domicile tingled with the hidden electrical impulse that shot throughout his whole body like lightning, the effects of adrenaline slipping into action. The opponent has succumbed to swivel a kick to the side of his face simultaneously with the other leg gliding for his gut whilst holding a one-handed hand stand. A move he was too used to seeing...
His understanding of Capoeira is as old as time could tell its history; a malicious martial art based on deception and back-stabbing tactics, where there was even approval of kicking a man in the spine to follow crushing it underfoot. He was too familiar with the art...it was once a plaguing epidemic of a style amongst many fighters to shake up the combat world with a new form of fighting aside from fisticuffs.
He smiled whilst his form soon denigrated with his own motion of pivoting on his left foot, slid slightly forward to gyrate his whole form towards the handstanding individual's being; cutting short his Aikido repertoire of movement in half to have him stand still facing the same direction only standing to the man's side where his hand and head happened to be. A sick and demented contortion took hold of Phane's countenance and twisted it into a daemonic smirk whilst his left leg popped off the ground from the small divet he had formed whilst pivotting, and shot for the man's head is a sick swivel of his own, knowing that should the head cock back and narrowly dodge his kick, it would strike the only supporting balance the man had to hold his whole body from falling unto the ground and breaking his neck: the lanced out arm the individual had used to balance on...more preferably the area he aimed was the elbow; either the side of it or the inner bend.
The momentum he used to perform this evasive tactic was in its own accord, celeriac while the whole time he had maneuvered himself, his left arm was raised gericulated to have the elbow faced out at 40 degrees with the fingers lightly splayed to not force much tension action up from tightening muscles at the forearms, biceps and triceps; respectively. (Closing the fist causes the muscles to bulge out and make the muscles completely cover the blade of the arm or even widens the angle of an elbow, rendering it less piercing and more a shoving tool than a lancing one.)
The arena sand was a fog of golden tint with two black shadows battling within the mist, the audience...where ever the may be...missing a good fight.
"There is beauty in the Darkness as there is the Light; a moonlit face is equal to one bathed in the sun...so don't fear the shadows."
Nosferatu Guest
Re: Nosferatu, as we've agreed. « Reply #5 on Apr 30, 2009, 12:28pm »
The man hadn't expected to hit either attack, but he also hadn't expected the movement the opponent took either. Utilizing such a straight-forward approach such as that was bad for the man, because all of Nosfertu's styles of fighting were based on letting the opponent make the first move, and turning it against them. Sure, he had made the first move in this fight, but the opponent had made the move against him that would ultimately lead to his defeat.
And so, as the leg of the opponent descended toward his head, he did the sensible thing, he moved his head away. As well as pushing off his arm with all the force he had left in his body, and bringing his body to spin on the ground. Landing upon his stomach, with his head inches away from where the opponent's foot had landed. He had planned all of this out perfectly, and now he moved his body again. He pushed his body up on his arms, his feet touching the ground. A second later he sprang off his feet and brought them below him, his hands hitting the ground once again. His feet shot out to the shins of the opponent, intending to push them backwards.
This was a movement ultilized in classic muay thai style martial arts. The legs would be used to knock the opponent off balance, and thus force him to fall face-first, if that should happen correctly his head would land between the knees of the one using the movement, and from there the neck would be broken. This would cause death, sure as anything, but that all depended on what the man did before he was hit by Nosferatu's feet, or what he did on his way to the ground. There were plenty of ways out of this, even with the speed Nosferatu moved and the sudden action he had taken upon himself to utilized.
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