Round 4: Osato vs. Yamihara

This battle will end on Friday, July 13th (ooooh...), at 11:59 PM EST.

Have fun, and good luck!

(I must protest that this tournament is a waste of time, and that the disorganization had brought about what we are seeing now, lack of interest and activity. I also would like to include that starting another is annoying and inconvenient to those of us yet participating in the one not yet ended...)



It was Osato’s turn to wonder at the use of the tournament. He had fought through three full rounds, three rounds of boredom and pointlessness. Either his opponents had not shown themselves for the fight, or they had simply fought just long enough for the match to be called off. The mercenary was saddened by both, since either way meant a less than favorable means of victory. He wanted to fight, though he was not an outrageously violent man. He wanted to be known, and he was quite the egotistical and vain type.

“Waassa poin’?” Osato’s normally cool, eloquent tone was muddled by the debilitating liquor. Before him, and the two at the table with him, were four empty pints and two half full. Again, normally not the kind to drown his regrets in alcohol, but there were plenty of them. His head bobbled upwards to the other two, his eyes somewhat hazy and watering. “S’r’sly. I’m jus gonna ‘aveta si’ ‘n wai’ till th’ m’nks tell me tha’ I’ve won… wooo bloody hooo.”

“Os’, if you don’t go you’ll get disqualified like the rest,” Brad, another mercenary who had recently taken an interest in the path of the sell-sword, looked up from his own empty mug. His face was just as lost as Osato’s, but he took the soulless man’s abilities and victories to heart. “You have to at least show up, even if it’s just to sit in an empty room. Come, me and Tony’ll take you, we’ll even get some drinks for the road.”

Osato stood quickly, his hair dancing majestically atop his drawn and alcohol worn face. He slapped his empty hand against his forehead and ran it across his face. – Why he would do that is unknown, but it seemed to be appropriate to him at the time. – As soon as he did, the other two were up, dropping coins and grabbing pints for the walk there, and probably while they were waiting for the end of the match.

((OOC: Ahh~! Sorry I'm late! Tourney battle shall commence ASAP!))

"A Tournament?"

Fresh dew hung in the air as two figures moved idly through the corridors of green, moonlight glistening off the grass like sparkles of pristine sapphires.

"Yeah, something like that."

Asuka mulled over the idea as she walked down a beaten grassy road, her travelling companion and bodyguard casually strolling by her side. Night time was not all that bad with the bright pearly orb behind them, the path that was pitch black many nights before now lit with brilliant clarity. Even still, walking around late at night such as now was quite safer than trying to do so at the breaking of dawn.

Only a few days before, she had an encounter with a shady individual around dawn. During the encounter, it was clear his fighting prowess was nowhere near her own - meaning that she could barely make a dent in his dynamic attacks, let alone defends herself without leaving unavoidable opening in her defenses. Even though the young lord was able to escape without much loss to her health, it was clear she was getting rusty.

"Are you sure that's a good idea, Tokita?" The red-hair maiden muttered in hesitation, throwing a look of disdain towards the person supposedly sent to protect her. "I mean, we're talking about a fighting tournament here."

"Yeah, I know that." Was the casual remark.

"And... hello~? You're supposed to protect me until we get back to West Akashima?" She continued, waving her hand about as if to make a point. "You are my bodyguard, after all."

"Yeah," He murmured, a sheepish grin creasing his cheeks into deep furrows large enough to sow barley in. "I also know that, too."

"Then what's the point?!"

By then, Asuka was starting to grow irritated by her supposed protector's indifferent response. A fighting tournament meant that people would have to fight each other - complete strangers, most of the times. And she knew there was nothing safe about getting into fights.

"You're getting a bit rusty with those fists of yours, your highness." He sighed and continued walking down the beaten path, throwing his arms up and cradling the back of his head. "A casual fight or two should do some good. Besides, it's held at that place we're already headed to."

Asuka huffed angrily as her friend walked on without waiting to see the look on her face. What kind of guy would let his charge be injured on purpose?

A jerk, perhaps?

It was a thought that popped into her head and Asuka had to agree with it. What other kind of guy would do such a thing?

That was, until the destination of their little stroll loomed into view.

***

Well, if it's at the Citadel... I guess... It's OK...?

The maiden leaned uneasily against one of the pillars rising from the marbled granite floor, scanning the arena with vigilant eyes. Even before she could see who here opponent for this "round" was, the maiden was already regretting the design of this battleground.

All around her, she could only tell it was a large circular room, measuring somewhere around fifty yards across. It would have been fine for her, had there not been these clusters of granite pillars lined in neat radiating lines. She counted seven of them in one direction, guessing there were five or six lines total running through the room. The sky above looked somewhat real, with fluffy clouds actually drifting about. But she knew it was fake.

She could barely feel the wind.

I wonder who I'm supposed to be fighting... Asuka scratched her head as she lounged against the central pillar, her chipped katars bouncing lazily against her hips.

I hope he isn't one of those... drunken, hairy, ax-wielding lumberjacks...

The thought made her cringe.

“Hooooo! We’re gonna drink n’ drink n’ drink…” the song continued on as the three traversed the quiet streets. The nights of Radasanth offered the sweet scent carried on the coat tails of an effervescent wind. Normally the sell-sword, who was once a maritime warrior, would bask in the simple pleasures offered by the salt laced scent and the cool breeze. That night he was preoccupied though, within the depths of a rather violent alcoholic binge. And, with the other two, was singing happily drunk while wandering towards the Citadel and the Ai’Bron’s false promise of fame and fortune. “N’ FIGHT!”

Osato laughed. His pupil-less eyes were half shut, his perfect lips were spread wide open to allow him to sing with the full power of his robust lungs. An arm was on either side of the armored shoulders of his companions. They had thrown his own armor, hastily dawned, over his shoulders just before leaving the tavern. It was awkwardly leaning, somewhat shifting to the left, but would suffice for now.

“We’re hear Os’,” Brad whispered into his ear. The feeling of the boy’s voice to the already aroused mercenary made a wave of euphoria rise and fall across his body like the tides. If he had allowed hair to grow on his body, instead of shaving, there was no doubt that it would have been standing on end. “Come on, we need to get you into a room or find your opponent…”

“I really like you guys,” Osato said in a low, slurred tone. He cursed himself. His tongue was getting in the way, felt almost too fat to allow him to open his mouth to talk. Drool was slipping from the side of his lip, which was quickly swiped by Tony. They were not going to let him look like a retarded drunk, just an idiot. Brad leaned back just before the mercenary planted a big kiss right on his cheek. Osato’s face soured at the refusal, but only made him a bit angry.

~*~

“HALLOOOOO?” Osato screamed at the top of his lungs. The pressure from expelling so much air at once made his stomach feel compressed; made him want to get sick. He held it all in though, despite himself. The world was starting to spin a bit more, his eyes felt like they were jerking back and forth across his face. He could not hold one point of attention, nor stand without rocking on his heels at the very least. “Goo’ thin’ nob’d… fuc’ it.”

The sell-sword gave up on speaking and sat on his butt. His head, which felt ten times heavier than usual, lolled back and rested against one of the pristine marble columns. For half a second, through the miasma of liquor, Osato cursed his stupidity. He was above all this, above degrading himself for the flaws and failures of others. But anger was anger. The sell-sword looked at the gleaming floor; saw his reflection like looking at it through a puddle of mud. The sky overhead was too bright, forcing him to wince. What he did see, however, was just how attractive he really was… a fact that never seemed to dull with alcohol.

"...Hello? Someone there?"

The echoes of a shout immediately caught the young maiden's attention. Slowly getting up from the pearly white floor, Asuka glanced around the place to see where the source of this garbled cry existed. It sounded like a rather young man, possibly in distress or merely trying to find fun in making the other occupant feel unnerved. No matter what the original intention was, it was certainly making the Akashiman nervous.

...Wait a minute...?

She was already half-way between the central pillar and one end of the circular arena when the thought hit her. The rhythmic tap- tap- tap- of her boots bouncing against the cold, solid stones slowed into silence as the maiden stared off into the distance. Soon after, the soft tap- tap- tap- sounded once more, although this time it was much quieter and a great deal slower. And if one could see the traces of echo, it would be leading backwards towards the center of the arena.

This is... I'm in a tournament! Why are you walking towards another person's voice?! Her mind raced at the thought of someone, or something, waiting to grab her should she move too close to the origin of the sound. He could even be my opponent! This is a tournament, after all!

Fearfully edging back to her post, Asuka swept the grounds with her chocolate eyes in an attempt to quell her fears of being caught in a sneak-attack. Nothing came into view, except for the rows of milky white and the airless blue sky.

No. I can't give them the advantage of knowing who they're fighting! I'll just... Send them back an echo!

Leaning against the column of marble, Asuka drew in her breath until she felt the worn leather tanktop press firmly against her skin. With determination painted on her face, she forcefully let out a loud shout in the direction she believed the other person appeared to be.

"Hullo~! Who are you~?"

Two can play at that game, stranger.

Coughing from over-exertion, Asuka waited silently to hear the response. She would know soon enough who this stranger turned out to be.

Osato did not post in the last week of the round. Therefore, Yamihara moves onto the Conference II Finals.

Yamihara gains 150 EXP; Osato gains 75 EXP.