Come get some, big sexy...

[The Bloody Son]

Oh, Winterhair.... n_n! Come in here, dawlface. Lol. There's no limitations as to the battle context except your character sheet. Only stipulation is that there's no deaths - a spar, if you will. :B I dun wanna die. Lol.

The coliseum was closed for the day and had been undergoing a little bit of construction around the high-rise seating and the boxes that lined the pit where the battles took place. The moonlight was brightly shining overhead and the full moon was just a few days past, still allowing the iridescent light to shine perfectly down on the arena. A few of the construction lights were on and aimed around the edges of the combat zone, beaming at the crumbling parts of the walls where countless bodies and chariots had been slammed into it's sides.

Cellius sat on the edge of the wall and looked into the pit below. His eyes traced the sands with thoughts of how many victories had been won in this place and how many men had died. The sands were dredged of body parts and blood, yet the ruby tint to the sands was the evidence of the bloodbaths that had ensued prior to this chilly night.

The gigantic walls of the circular edifice kept the winds out and only the soft howling came from the open roof, like lips pressed to a bottle mouth, blowing carelessly. It was silent. Awkwardly quiet without so much as a gull cry or a vulture caw. Cellius thought of his family in this moment. He wished his memories were this quiet, this silent - instead of the abhorrent screams of agony and boiling flesh.

[Winterhair]

What ho, a foe? Once more, my character must fight in the Citadel. But alas, it is not a lady this time, but a man! Will these foes never cease?

Fine by me. :D

"Going again?" Samantha whispered in Vincent's ear as he slowly got dressed, the morning sun casting a soft glow across his naked chest. Basking in the sunlight, he smiled at the feel of the whore's warm hands around his waist and her soft lips pressed against the back of his neck. "Your such a battle whore." Nipping her teeth playfully on the back of his neck, she slid from him as he began to shrug on his black coat.

"I'm sorry, but if I don't practice I'll get out of shape..." He smiled at her, showing his abnormal canines and caressing her with his silver eyes. "...and you and I both don't want that, do we?"

"That we don't." She giggle femininely, twirling a strand of black hair in her fingers. "Just come back soon, my love."

"Oh, I shall." He turned from her and back to the sunlight, where it gleamed off his long, white hair and the ivory sheath he held in his left hand. "I can feel it."
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Good morning, Vincent Winterscar." A monk greeted the advancing form of the huge swordsman, bowing slightly in recognition of the warrior. Had it been two weeks, no, even a week before, Vincent would have been startled by the fact that the monks knew his identity, and maybe even angered that he had not known. But after countless visits to this place of blood, he had began to garner some recognition amongst the monks and was only mildly surprised when strangers came up to him and congratulated him on a win or supported him after a loss.

The Citadel was welcoming him with open arms, it seemed. A sick smile spread across his face at the thought. That was just fine with him. He smiled in greeting to the monk, being in a good mood from this morning's excursions with Samantha at The Scarlet Lady, and spoke in calm tones. "Good morning to yourself. Anyone new I should know about?"

The monk pulled back his hood to show an older face, weathered by the harsh mistress of time and scarred with the curse of wisdom, but his eyes held a youthful brilliance that captured the silver-eyed swordsman with their light. Good, Vincent thought to himself. Someone who had been around the block a few times.

"In fact, we have. He came just this morning, requesting a match, but no one has come to take it. Yet." The man's stare fell on Vincent and a smile quirked up on the old one's face. "Will that someone be you, Vincent Winterscar?"

Vincent smiled back. He liked this guy.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

There was a flash of light, and Vincent brushed back his long hair as he looked around himself and stepped forth from the closing portal. The opponent's choice of arena suited the warrior: a coliseum, broken down and shattered, with bodies and blood spilled all over the soft sand. Chariots lay smashed against the walls, which also lay crumbling on the sides.

On habit, Vincent lifted the enormous blade a little out of its ivory scabbard, making sure it was clear to be drawn. His nostrils told him what was obvious: the blood on the sands was still fresh. He smiled grimly at that thought, and walked forth, his white hair trailing behind him as he scoured the arena, looking for his opponent. His silver eyes gleamed in the construction lights as he slowly turned around to stare straight at the form of a small man, sitting on the edge of one of the walls under the bright moonlight.

"Death in the darkness?" Vincent said out loud, loud enough so his opponent could hear him, and the smiled on his face widened to a larger degree. "I like your style." He slowly drew the long blade from its sheath, its serrated edge glowing in the moonlight, and casually tossed the ivory scabbard to the side as he held the sword in one hand, pointing the tip at his opponent in a silent challenge.

[The Bloody Son]

The boy's eyes glistened with the intensity of thought. His mother - Jalyra; her screams is all that he heard at the moment. Cell sighed heavily. She cried out to her son, waving her arms frantically at his side and begged him to come back for her. He snarled and swung his hand at the figment in a slightly crazed fashion as a man entered the ring.

"There is no style in the choice, sir. By the moon's time, am I allowed to come out and play..." Cellius watched his opponent strut his stuff as if he was the ultimate bad ass in the arena and yet being new to this world, Cell hadn't had the time to hear stories about any single person. It was a fresh discovery with every fight and he more than welcomed the surprise. The vampire's lips pulled back macabrely.

They were to dance now and so the boy leaped from his position atop the battered wall and on his impact the motes of dirt and sand rolled aimlessly from his pressure, the white shirt he wore rippling in the descent until the snap of his landing. He stood erect and began to move slowly toward the swordsman. The pallid frame turned slowly to survey the shadows and stones that lay strewn about the battlefield, not only as a precautionary measure of the debris, but also as a tactical positioning.

The bagging ivory slacks moved with his gaunt frame, his body almost looking slouched as he walked with his shoulders looming a centimeter back beyond his hips - strutting almost, yet a natural swagger. With his arms at his side and putting about ten feet between the warriors, Cellius reached with his right hand grasp the hilt at the small of his back. With a fluid motion, the katana-esque blade was gently awoken and now stood at his side.

"I'm Cellius, by the way - stranger. I pray you not take it easy on me... I need to grow in strength to avenge my family. I may look young and not be the best thing you've encountered - but I'll give you everything I've got." The youth gave a half-hearted smile, as if trying desperately to earn some respect in light of his age.

[Winterhair]

As Vincent watched his opponent draw a katana from the sheath at his back, his eyes widened and his smile grew till anyone looking upon it would agree upon the same thing. It was filled with insanity. A gleeful insanity, but insanity nonetheless. As if to prove this point, Vincent threw his head back and laughed, laughed until the sound filled the noiseless arena, booming off the walls and sending crows flying from the spontaneous sound. His laughter poured out like a flood of water, unstoppable and intimidating, until Vincent could not laugh any more. Letting the sound soften to a chuckle, Vincent brushed his hair back with his free hand and looked at his opponent once more.

"Forgive me, Cellius..." He began, his voice still carrying traces of of the insanity that had consumed him earlier. "...I was not laughing at you. Its just been so long since I've met a real swordsman, that I'm happy. I thought I would be stuck forever fighting pussies who can't take a blade." He smiled in respect and walked forward, his hands up to reveal he had no intention of striking, just not yet.

"Kid, I like your spunk. And hell, any one who can admit that and that they want to grow stronger I respect, because I'm looking for the same thing." He extended his left hand out in an offer to shake hands. "My name's Vincent, by the way. What do you mean, by the 'moons time'? Are you some sort of lycanthrope, or somethin'?"

[The Bloody Son]

By free will and trust, Cell lowered the tip of the blade to the ground and poised it. With a gentle push, the blade bit gently into the flesh of the arena and stood vertically as his left hand arose to meet Vincent's own with a puzzled look across his face. The man's random manic laughter nearly caused him to smile and laugh along with him, but the fear of his schizophrenic behavior kept Cell on alert in the back of his mind. Regardless of his intentions, the boy was ready to spring if this fool was crazy enough to act.

"It's a pleasure, Vincent. And not a lycanthrope..." Cell sneered at the thought of being thought of or referred to as a were-anything; breeds of were, whether they be bears, wolves, or whatever were considered disgusting and filthy by Cellius. "... a vampire, Vincent. The moon is my external limit to nature." After releasing the hand, Cell grinned and rested the palm of his right hand on the pommel of his blade and awaited the words or actions of his opponent cautiously. "How many men have you cleaved with that blade, Vin?"

The silence of the arena was only disturbed by the remaining echo of the larger man's laughter and the clapping of wings into the higher seats and tiers of the coliseum. Their angry caws sharply pierced the arena in an echoed fashion that caused the boy to flinch slightly and wince to the sharp noise. He frowned and looked up to the foul fowl with a disturbed look - "See what you did, Vin?" They flapped around angrily and hopped from tier to tier, awaiting the taste of blood. They knew what time it was...

[Winterhair]

Vincent took notice of the boy's posture and stance, the way his muscles coiled beneath the taut skin, and approved. If the boy had been too trusting of Vincent, the swordsman would have been disappointed. But this was exactly how he wanted it: casual, but with enough tension to be able to light the very air on fire.

He also took note of the sneer in Cellius's voice as he said the word "lycanthrope", a sneer that told Vincent of past grudges or experiences with the species. "A vampire! Well, this is a first I might add. I've never fought a vampire before." He grinned at the prospect and his blade up and out in the moonlight, letting it gleam off of its edge as he gazed at the serrated sword. "This blade..." He whispered, and his grin faded to a small smile as his eyes faded and he became lost in memories. "...I have alot of stories about this blade and I, Cellius. It has been my only companion...for as long as I can remember." A wistful look crossed the swordsman's face, but then he smiled once more down at the vampire and dropped his sword to the side as the angry caws of the crows came roaring down from the sides.

He jabbed a thumb at them before speaking once again. "But it seems the crowd is getting restless. I'll honor your request, boy, and help you get stronger, for your sake and mine!" He shouted this last part and leaped backwards a few feet, putting his blade out before him as the six foot sword easily connected the distance between the two warriors. "Come at me, Cellius. Lets enjoy this!"

[The Bloody Son]

Minor Bunnying: Spacing between characters. Nothing huge.

"A first, my dear man?" The boy grinned nonchalantly as his opponent began backing up and lifting his blade to separate the two. The birds chattered excitedly in the background, cawing noisily and hopping around, eager to pick the flesh of the defeated with a morbid anticipation. "If it's a first time, I'll go easy on you - human..." Cellius chuckled to himself a little manically as he took a single step and narrowed the eight foot gap to seven - ever-so-close to Vincent's blade tip.

In mid step, Cellius kicked the ground and a mote of dust arose in a debris spray toward Vincent. Pebbles and bloody rocks kicked up to create a moon-lite cloud that wafted into the space between the two men, yet not a dense enough opacity to cloud all vision between. With a second fluid step of his left foot, Cellius' left hand arose and went to push the vertical-stanced blade of Vincent's to a distance. Not necessarily pushing the blade, but keeping it at bay for a clean horizontal strike that came for Vincent's left latissimus dorsi. The two foot blade at a full extension and having his body another foot and a half closer would allow the clean, crisp edge of the family heirloom - Ferv to drag, if not cut cleanly through the outer ebony coat he wore and deep enough to slice a clean horizontal line underneath his left pectoral maybe less than an inch deep, nothing fatal but a definitely hindrance for sword swinging and movement due to tearing the skin wider with extreme motions.

The boy's body was poised mostly to bend and be supported by his right foot as his swinging momentum and power came from that kinetic stance. The energy of each swing was a full potential kinetic action - from the foot pose to the knee, up the body and even into the arc and trajectory of each swing with the blade, smoothly cutting through reality and the glimmer of the moonlight giving the blade a mystical glow with the dirt particles surrounding it.

Such grace and beauty of his actions were to be envied. As a boy, each mistake was punished with ten minutes of 'Plank' and a few quick lashes to the mistaken movement. A hand out of place would be beat if it wasn't pulled back fast enough, an over-stretched quad, or so much as the wrong angle of footing. His father and grandfather taught him the arts of the rapier and fencing swords and with his own dedicated style over the past year, Cell had turned his artistry into a dance of finesse.

[Winterhair]

Dancing was fine. To be able to dance with the blade was a skill not known to many, as many considered the sword as just a tool for smashing, slashing, biting and crashing. There was nothing brutal about Cellius's movements, no mistakes or half-assed movements. Vincent saw that and a part of him envied the boy's lighter movements, the way he shot forward without hesitation, kicking the rocks up into a beautiful arc into the the air to glow in the moonlight, the moonbeams like blades piercing from the heavens.

For a moment, Vincent stood, mesmerized by the fluidity of his opponent's movements. It was unnatural, but the swordsman had assumed that his inhuman opponent would have such movements. Still, the wanderer gazed at the imagery of this boy, who had come charging at him without a second thought, and a flicker of happiness went through the man.

It really had been too long.

And instantly, Vincent snapped into action with the push of his sword away. As soon as he felt his sword being moved, he grinned. "Good reflexes!" He shouted, and lunged forward at the same time with his opponent, his speed belying his large size as he evaded his opponents horizontal slash with a contraction of his stomach. His coat made a whisper in the wind as he stepped forward and to the left side of the vampire, his platinum eyes meeting his opponent's obsidian one's. As he passed by Cellius in a flash of black, he reached out to grab his opponent's own blade with his bare left hand while swinging his body around to slash at his opponent with a backhanded swing of his serrated blade.

Bunny approved.

[The Bloody Son]

The dance of the two grew heated and deadly rather hastily. Blades began to swing and clash and the fancy footwork of the two left the birds mesmerized in hunger and performance. Their beady eyes watched every action and every step, awaiting that fateful blow that would serve them a late dinner. Cell watched the humans actions with a strict intent. His footing and movement were sloppy and scattered; they seemed didn't seem premeditated by any means as Vincent moved to the right.

Cell grew curious to the man's abilities beyond this fight. How many he'd really had and who he'd slain with this massive nodachi. A beautiful weapon and unusually serrated along the front for a biting and tearing motion, should it grapple his flesh - but the edge was so busy that Cell couldn't imagine it was used for clean slicing and death blows.

At such a close combat, Cell was better off in his element. He was smaller and faster than this hulkish, sword-wielding barbarian and he'd use it to his advantage - indefinitely. Oddly enough, the man reached for the edge of his blade and for reasons unknown to Cell. Allowing the man to strain himself was interesting though - grabbing off to your left at the same time you're trying to slice with your right and a sword? Cell thought to himself that the momentum behind the mechanics of the swing would be nearly impossible to bring about a solid impact. So with that, Cell would allow the man's fingers to wrap about the blade if he so chose - but only to jerk the blade off to the right with a plant of his right foot. However, there was the possibility that if Vincent's hand did in fact wrap around the blade, the tugging pull that Cellius performed to bring the blade parallel with his right leg might have lanced Vincent's fingers off his right hand.

Vincent was now directly left of Cell and with his right foot planted, his head lowered to the right and tilted - having his ear chomped into by the Vincent's singing nodachi, Cell flinched. However, the feeling of blood trickling down the side of his neck and the stinging pain of sweat on the wound didn't stop the fight or flight reaction that was pumping through his veins. The adrenaline coursed throughout his body, pumping and driving him further into the fight - losing his mind to the battle. From his planted foot, Cellius pushed off extremely hard, using his vampiric speed to boost his small frame into a power attack - his left elbow out aimed to impact Vincent squared up in the sternum. The left hand was on the pommel of his blade which followed in with his actions again with the kinetic placement of all his physical appendages - legs, arms, head - everything was exacted at this moment.

The force behind the blow would feel something like being struck by a car going thirty miles an hour, yet Cell couldn't get his mind off the wonder of this man grabbing for his sword bare handed. The thought made him smile that his opponent could possible take this brutal attack from below because he was too busy frantically screaming about the fingers me might soon be missing. The boy grinned widely in mid attack and then continued to follow through. His audible, sweat-induced grunt was the 'umph' behind his attack, but at a hundred and forty-ish pounds, even for a man of Vincent's size, if taken this blow would definitely hurt...

[Winterhair]

Vincent had been born in blood. His mother before him, a warrior like he, had been pregnant on the battlefield, pregnant while fighting, and pregnant while dying. He had been cut open from his mother's own stomach right there on the battlefield, and rushed to the medical warlocks and clerics immediately by an unknown soldier before he had been shot down, the baby in his hands just having left them.

The doctors had been amazed to find that despite all the lady's movements, pains, wounds and death, the baby had been born in perfect condition. A little larger than the average infant, but that was to be expected out of him, his mother having been larger than the average woman.

Vincent had been raised in blood as well. Before he could even walk, the first thing he had grabbed was his foster father's blade, and not the hilt either. It had been the sharp, keen edge, and immediately had cut him across his small palm. His foster father and mother could only watch in amazement as the infant had laughed at the blood on his palm, the deep cut pulsing with the thick liquid as it poured out onto his body. Vincent had simply giggled and waved his bloody hand around at his foster parents, as if to show them a new trophy, then proceeded in wiping the blood on his body as if it were mud. The two warriors had looked at each other and proceeded in cleaning up Vincent and wrapping the wound in a bandage. His foster parents did not know it, though, as the wound had already begun to stop bleeding as soon as the bandage even was beginning to be prepared to be used.

That had been the start of Vincent's own signature technique: grabbing his own opponent's blade. A seemingly stupid move at first, several of his opponents had laughed at him. After all, what kind of sane man grabs a sharp sword with his bare hand? No man, that's what. So they had let him, thinking they would simply cut his hand off and that would be that.

He loved watching their horrified faces when their sword couldn't cut through his hand. He loved it even more when realization struck them and they screamed in agony as his sword tore through their flesh, the serrated edge biting them, slashing them until the entire five foot length had nearly ripped them in half.

For years now he had used that technique. He had been cut down seemingly for over forty years now, had allowed himself to be slashed and hacked at before reveling in the pain and blood and ripping his opponents to shreds with his mighty sword. And now, his skin became his armor: it did not betray him. His muscles became like rock, his body now completely used to the taste of steel biting it.

But even so, it was nothing compared to the skin of the palm of his left hand. Even damascus swords hadn't even cut through his hand completely, as it became not just a hand any more but strong enough to the point where it became his secondary weapon. And so he smiled at the feel of his opponent's blade biting into massive palm, the smile revealing a sharp set of incisors and a maniacal growl. Yeah, the move would have been a stupid one. Were Vincent a sane man, that is.

His smile grew as he felt his blade bite into the side of the vampire's head, even though that had not been his primary intent. He had intended for Cellius to dodge his attack, or try to avoid it, but this worked just fine as well. He laughed at the boy's pathetic attempt to try and cut off his fingers by pulling at the blade, and simply tugged back, the blade biting deeper into his flesh but only causing Vincent to pull harder, until he finally did let go. This was to let the kinetic energy that had been building from from the small game of tug of war to suddenly release and send the vampire off balance, but the boy was already moving. Vincent was clued in to the boy's sudden burst of immense speed by his grunt, but that wouldn't have mattered due to Cellius's own vampire-given grace and speed, so Vincent did what his instincts told him.

He met the vampire's elbow head on with his right shoulder, one of the two hardest parts of his body. The other was his left shoulder. He gave in to the battle lust now flowing in him, letting the adrenaline drive him, and without thinking drove his left hand, the one that had gripped his opponent's blade, into a bloody, massive fist, straight at his opponent's pale face.

[The Bloody Son]

It did nothing?!

The elbow slammed into the man's right shoulder and with the force that he'd hit the man, Cell thought that it would have thrown his right shoulder back at least some, or that the impact might have knocked the blade loose to some extent? But as his own momentum was thrown forward it was apparently stopped drastically but this individual who wasn't much bulkier than he, but still apparently not affected by such tremendous blows.

As obvious as day, Vincent reached out with his bleeding left hand and thrust it at Cell's head. The severely marred palm at such a close range obviously had seen its fair share of violence. The scar tissue that seemed to boil up in the crevices of his palm - his life lines were totally destroyed as far as any fortune teller would be concerned; Vincent would die young for this blasphemy.

Vincent's actions were made to assume that Cellius would be knocked off balance by releasing his sword as if he had some sort of choice, but there was none. All timing, precision, balance, and accuracy were honed attributes to the beatings Cell had received as a child and young man in order to get him to where he was at this very moment. Holding Ferv in his left palm firmly, Cell rotated his right hand from his thumb following the hilt down to his thumb holding the blade with the natural break in his wrist. Instead of the opening of his hand up, Cell reversed his grip so that in his motions, Ferv would follow the natural motions as an extension of Cellius' right forearm.

Allowing Vincent to graze the right side of Cellius' head with his thumb - his nail grazing across the pallid framed's temple, Cellius didn't back up, but arched his body to the left, using the ball of his left foot as a pivot point. Pushing his shoulder into the motion and staying hunched and beneath Vincent's blade, Cell was moving into more cat-like positions and stances, manipulating his gaunt, small frame to do what it's master beckoned. His left shoulder rolled back, the right shoulder followed suit and rolled forwards. Cell's right arm made a jabbing punch motion while holding the Ferv toward the right side of Vin's body.

Since Cellius didn't fall backwards, but maintain his footing and positioning, Vincent pushed forwards and his blade was essentially useless, being stuck above Cell's back. Thusly with Cellius' motions, the blade would be rushed to the abdominal area of Vincent. Between his sternum and first ab muscle, the blade was aimed with deadly precision and the vampire didn't know how the human could evade this. To maneuver out of such an attack seemed unlikely - Cell was beneath Vincent's arms and to see around them and the boy's head wasn't possible, so how would he have any way of knowing the blood-hungry blade was anticipating the taste soon...

Time seemed to stand still around them. The monks watched from high above with judgmental keen eyes. Every motion, every move - the two fighters were superb, but with every too that Vincent launched, a for retorted from this new boy that was uncanny and exacted.

The dust of their feet arose in lofted motes, carefree of the battle being waged and escaping the confines of the pebbles and sand that imprisoned them in the beginning. The crunch of each step, grinding rock against rock, sand into sand, dust to dust as the footwork only showed the tenacity and finesse of both combatants.

The crows awaited - blood was shed, it was only a matter of time now...

[Winterhair]

Vincent's own attack with his fist had missed, but that was alright. He had felt his thumb graze his opponents head, and he smiled on the inside. No opponent was invulnerable, no matter how great or fast or strong they were. However, it was the boy's next movements that had Vincent worried, for his body didn't know really how to react to them. His body had not moved during his punch: instead he had stood his stance, allow his immense potential energy to cancel and counter his opponents immense kinetic energy, the two like two charges, negative and positive. Not that Vincent knew this: he had reacted on instinct. But now the boy had moved to his blind side, his left side, and Vincent had only a glimmer of a moment to see what he was doing. A shiver of apprehension slid down his spine: A shiver that happened whenever Vincent was in serious danger, he had come to rely on it to get him out of sticky situations.

And so, he gave in to the flow of battle completely, his blood lust now taking over him as he suddenly released all the kinetic energy his body had been storing, exploding to the left towards his opponent. At this range his sword was useless, he knew that: if he stood any chance in using his blade, he needed to get away from his opponent. Not something he liked to do, but grabbing the blade had already failed once and he wasn't going to try it again at this time. His huge body flew sideways and he gritted his teeth as he felt the point of his opponent's blade cut into his hard stomach and slice a thin line across it, but he seemed to avoid the worst of it. Using his immense momentum given to him from the strength in his legs and the pain from his wounds, he jammed his own elbow out at his opponent once more, copying the vampire's own moves. It was aimed straight at the boy's upper region of his chest, Vincent too caught up in his own attack to aim properly, and at the same time he spun his right arm around his body in a horizontal slash, hoping to cut the vampire in half with his massive blade as it swung through the night air, the moon catching its edge with a keen gleam that seemed out of place on the weapon, obviously meant for tearing and biting into rather than slicing.

He spoke to his opponent once more, just before the expected impact. It came out more as an inhuman growl, and as he spoke his teeth showed to be long, sharp canines meant for biting and ripping, just like his sword. The words were vulgarian, the tone menacing, and some human part of Vincent flinched away. But he had lost his humanity long ago, and these words only seemed natural to him now.

"Don't underestimate me, boy." They were only four words, but each was filled with menace and enough blood lust to grind the very air's tension to dust. And that suited him just fine.

I'm going to get some rest, so don't expect another post out of me tonight on here. I'm not satisfied with this one as it is, but I don't want to hold you up re-writing it, so I'll respond sometime tomorrow. G'night, my friend.

[The Bloody Son]

In the heat of the moment, the hungry blade bit and spilled blood from Vincent's abdoment and it rolled down his muscular stomach. The crimson waterfall oozed the man's life force and it was all Cellius could do, not to lunge for the life that carelessly spilt from Vincent. This was just getting too ridiculous.

Vincent took the hit to essentially get him out of the way. Pushing down to stop his attack with his left foot, Cellius halted and took the elbow directly in the left side of his jaw which threw his body backwards. Cell used the man's force to push him backwards and with his falling techniques, the right hand gripped the hilt tightly and his body fell beneath the horizontal slash of the nodachi.

The moment Cell's shoulders hit the ground, he used the bounce factor and his agility to roll his body backwards and push off with his left hand to throw himself back up onto his feet in a backflip of sorts and slide to a stop in the sand. His chest heaved with the adrenaline pumping, Cell's eyes locked onto the bloody man who seemed to be unstoppable for a meager human. Nothing more than a natural bred human...

"Underestimate? Heh... I just expected more, Vincent... Your defense is all open. Your all over the place with your footing and your actions are leaving your core open, which next to your head is extremely vulnerable... if you didn't know that... "

If you want to continue, we can. But I'm personally good, for this match. The mechanics and everything you're doing, are throwing me off and I'd rather not get frustrated with your actions because I don't think you're aware of it.
Don't get me wrong, you're a great writer and a shit-ton of fun to write with, but I'm reading my posts then yours and going - how the hell did a human do that.
PM me. <3

[Winterhair]

As his elbow connected with the vampire's face, he grinned sadistically at the deep impact of his flesh grinding deep into the pale skin. This was the type of fighting he lived for, and immediately his thoughts lashed out at his opponent, screaming That's for underestimating me, bastard!

However, the impact from the elbow caused the vampire to fall back heavily, and Vincent's slash missed the boy completely. Immediately he felt a pain in his right shoulder and gasped. He had overextended himself by trying to complete two huge movements in one, and now the vampire's earlier tackle-elbow was making its way into the swordsman's body, the effects taking over once Vincent had foolishly made this mistake. He gritted his teeth at the pain and rolled his shoulder back several times, trying to loosen it up and only succeeding slightly. Damn you, body...He cursed, but the blood lust he felt inside was not gone and he continued to smile maniacally at his inhuman opponent, who used the momentum from Vincent's blow to push himself back and away from the swordsman in a couple of acrobatic movements. Vincent took note, however, of the boy's heavy breathing and panting body, the look in his eyes like one of a trapped animal.

Despite the boy's next words, he was slightly frightened of this huge juggernaut of a man, and they both knew that. The crow's cawed loudly as they flew around the two warriors, attracted by the blood flowing from the long gash on Vincent's stomach, pouring down and staining his pants red. Vincent listened to the boy's taunt with apparent interest, then slowly took his left hand and rubbed it over his stomach, staining it wet with the blood from the two wounds, and then lifted up his hand to slide it through his hair slowly, the ivory strands becoming dark and slick red with blood. He did this until the wound was closing up, the fatty tissue inflaming to provide a natural healing process to his body, and his white hair now dripped with blood. He grinned at his vampiric opponent and again held his sword between them, not pointed forward this time but in a ready stance to begin actual sword fighting, the tip pointing to the heavens above.

"Is that so?" He murmured in response to his opponent. "If your so sure then that I'm so defenseless...come at me, and we'll test your statement." He grinned as the vulgarian noise left his throat and beckoned the vampire forth with his bloody hand, ready to start part two despite the throbbing of his shoulder. The vampire was a good swordsman, he would give him that, and despite his attitude Vincent liked his guts.

He would cut them out quickly, then.

[The Bloody Son]

"You sure you can handle anymore? You're bleeding pretty badly on your hand and stomach... looks like you could use a break or a big band-aid..." Cellius grinned widely and stood here with slack in his right foot - an attitude stance. His eyebrows arose as the man begged for more of a beat down and the vampire shook his head slowly, cascading sepia strands about wildly.

"Oh no, no... I already advanced and look where that got you. How about you try your luck on me this time. A high guard wont save you from my speedy blade, Vincent. You should know that by now..."

The boy's eyes fixed on the man before him, who was bigger indeed and that much more intimidating, but in the reality of it all, Cellius' ear was the only thing on him bleeding and his jaw was a little achy, but over-all, he'd been hit harder before. So in light of the man's size, the bigger they are was still an obvious affect...

The air was still. The crows - silent. The world awaited this big man to put his money directly where his mouth was. You can't taunt and do nothing. Leaving hollow threats and empty words just made a man look like more of a coward than he really was. It was in this mindset that Cell had already shown what he was capable of... it was here, where he would lay Vincent to rest...

[Winterhair]

"Fair enough." Vincent grinned back at his opponent before immediately breaking out of his position and sprinting at full speed towards his vampiric opponent, the sand beneath his feet exploding into the air as he put his full two hundred and twenty pounds into this effort. His blade sang through the air before kissing the ground as he ran, the tip dragging through the sand as his swirling silver orbs locked onto his opponent's dead obsidian ones. His eyes were filled with not hate or anger or irritation at the boy's words and assumptions, but an excitement that disregarded sanity. Even as he ran he yelled out to his opponent, caught up in the battle and letting the blood lust seep into his voice until the difference between his normal voice and the growling animal inside was indistinguishable. "And what the hell are ya talkin' about? A couple of pussy cuts ain't gonna do nothin' to me." Indeed, his wounds had healed to the point where they didn't even bleed anymore, the slash on his stomach becoming a simple red smile upon the tan of his skin. Even as the words left his throat his smile widened to the point where it looked if he had tried to smile wider, his face would have ripped in two. The moon glowed upon the surface of the golden sand, reflecting across the silver of the two warrior's blades and their strange eyes, and even Vincent's blood-soaked hair seemed ethereal in the moon's light.

Not waiting for an answer from his undead opponent Vincent waited until he was about five feet away from him to leap into the air, his muscular legs carrying him into the air before Cellius. At the same time, he spun and kicked at the arm holding the light blade with his right foot and with his other foot delivered a powerful back kick straight at the vampire's throat that if it connected with even a single body part would do some serious damage. The swordsman was no master in martial arts but he was fairly confident in these next two attacks. Vincent had picked up some Tae Kwon Do during his wanderings and had incorporated it into his sword style unknowingly, relying on his body to tell him what to do. So far, it had helped him defeat opponents that could not be slain with only his blade, but would it help in this battle? Only Cellius's next moves would tell.

[The Bloody Son]

Sorry about the delay. Work is just tenacious and yesterday was a triple-slam birthday party for 3 of my four sisters. Lol. So we were out at Oceans of Fun in KC. <3

Pussy cuts, huh? Apparently, my human friend here must be used to getting diced to pieces before falling apart... that or he has some abnormal regenerative abilities... Cellius raised a skeptical forehead; the wrinkles creased across his flawless face with a totally 'You're full of Shit' look that even an old crone would have understood. The cock-eyed vampire snickered as the human bum rushed him with a poor choice of motions.

If you ever jump attack someone, Cellius thought, never make it so obvious as from the front on. The boy felt the crack against his back from the past. The flashback was a bamboo fighting stick with shredded ends that would cause the flesh to be the martyr for such stupidity. A simple movement from his grandfather left the boy writhing in pain and agony, squirming much like a fish out of water. Then another crack against his hand was for Cell dropping his bokken. Back to the battle, the vampiric oculars watched the humans feeble attempt.

Assuming that his right foot came first (since there was no mention and it seems most obvious), Vincent would try to kick the weapon from the youth's hand, and then complete a full 'blind' roundhouse and aim for the throat. The man was a swordsman - that was established. Cellius knew instantly that from the man's technique and experience that he seemed to have recently acquired this ... talent or feat and as such, his performance and discipline in his rotation lacked. Anyone who's studied some form of the martial arts knows all too well the precision and skill that it takes for a successful blind kick, let alone one off the ground. Even a 3rd Degree Black Belt in Tae Kwon Do has issues landing every flying back kick exactly as the previous.

So as the right foot came up, Cell moved to Vincent's right in an elongated sidestep. The gravel dusted lightly beneath his left foot as he slid off to the side and allowed the foot to pass cleanly through the air and as Vincent's body rolled - with Cell's motions, he was now directly behind and in the blind spot of Vincent. If the human didn't follow through with his technique, he'd be cleaved in twain...

The forearm lunged and the blade went forward off his right arm and with the crouch that Cellius moved into, the Ferv would enter around Vincent's midsection on his left backside, around the kidney area. With the continue of Vincent's move, his downfall would be sealed - for if the blade cleanly slipped between his ribs and at the momentum the human was pushing, Vincent would run himself from the left side - clockwise around Ferv and ultimately split himself clean open.

It was an unfortunate move that Vincent had made - to expose his backside to the enemy in such a ridiculous fashion. Cell's confidence only boosted his abilities. The swords gleamed in the moonlight, the crows awaited their next meal, the fight - soon to end...

[Winterhair]

Vincent saw the blade coming towards him from a mile away. Not literally of course, but the vampire's own attack was so obvious even a berserker like Vincent himself could easily avoid it. The swordsman was no master in his skills, for his unrefined style left him little room for any real growth. However, it did not take a master to tell what the vampire was doing. The blade that Cellius held was light and thin, a katana of fine craftsmanship that shone silver as the white of Winterscar's hair, and was obviously made for quick, thin cuts, or stabs like with a rapier. Out of the corner of his eye, as Vincent spinning around to kick Cellius in the throat had brought his own head around so his back was not defenseless and his left side was not his 'blind spot', Vincent noticed the movement of Cellius's right arm as he dodged the first and second kicks, and immediately reacted on instinct.

The air became the huge man's medium and weapon as he spun sideways with the kinetic force of his kicks, the attacks carrying him through the air and avoiding the reach of Cellius's deadly blade. The point slashed Vincent across his right, above the first cut that Cellius had made on his stomach and creating a thin slash that spilled a little more of Vincent's life blood, but not enough to be threatening. However, the pulling at Vincent's stomach in two different directions as he twisted around caused the first wound to open up once more, and a little more of the barbarian's blood was let flow.

Ignoring the two injuries, Vincent growled as he let his body mass collide forward, his feet finally touching the ground as he brought arm to bear in an effort to clothesline the vampire and knock him off his feet, where Vincent would use that same effort to slam him down to the ground.

[The Bloody Son]

The humans turn was the key to his success. Vincent's head pivoted and he saw Cellius bow into a crouch, but with Cell's head down - he didn't even see what was about to happen to him. The blade missed cleanly and as Cell lifted his head to see what was going on, the small man was jerked in the opposite direction. His feet kicked out in front of him and the blade went flying through the air and landed about twenty feet away because of the sheer force of the impact.

The blood sucker's jaw caught up in the nook of Vincent's elbow drug him backwards until the man continued on and the boy fell, hitting the ground and his eyes rolled around slowly inside the sockets. Pain surged through his small frame and the lightning shocks sprang through his lower back in surging roots of agony. The twisted look of his face held in the sound that begged to escape his thin lips as the boy's head bounced off the sandy ground.
True, he wasn't a master of the blade, but with his little past experience and vampiric nature, it made him a formidable opponent none-the-less. His grandfather had been a nasty teacher and his father, close to the same nature - with a more yielding approach. Cell stared at the skies for a moment. His rushed momentum of ability and stamina from the moonlight had slowly run out and with a foul swoop, the boy had taken a severe blow.

Because of his size, Cell was able to escape most attacks with minimal effort because of his fighting prowess and how most of it just seemed obvious, however fighting the bigger people - he tried to stay away from them as much as possible when it came to brute contact. And this is why...

"Ohhw.... damn." The boy squinted, then coughed. He writhed for a moment in pain, laying in a heap.

[Winterhair]

Warning: some mature content.

Eat it. Something screamed inside Vincent as his elbow connected with intense force and fury. Bite it. Slash it. Devour it. Consume until not a single piece is left...

Those thoughts raged inside the berserker for what seemed to be forever, even though in reality it took less than a split second from Cellius's head to bounce off the ground in which they spoke. They were as loud as drums in his ear; pounding, demanding to be obeyed. Every fiber of Vincent's hard body screamed to follow their instructions. Even his lips had pulled back into a grotesque smile once more to prepare to literally follow the voice's instructions, the incisors that filled his mouth gleaming in anxiousness.

This wasn't the first time this had happened to the swordsman. Vincent had also had these thoughts inside his head when he had slew the machine woman named Shadow, and had proceeded in following them. Like an insane animal he had consumed the melting pieces of her shell and screamed in a maniacal mixture of pleasure and pain as the molten metal melted his insides. Even as the arena was being annihilated by a flaming tornado that the machine had somehow activated Vincent had continued to listen to the voice in his head, screaming in brutal fury and happiness.

Who can explain insanity?

However, just as he was about to once again let go of whatever humanity he had left and rip out the vampire's own throat with his teeth, Vincent heard another voice in his head. Unlike the first, it was feminine. Not a girlish feminine, however. A more maternal voice, like a mother scolding a child for bad behavior. And oh, was this voice scolding.

What do you think you're doing, Vincent? The voice screamed in his head, and immediately he recoiled from some invisible force, his silver eyes stopping their insane swirling. He gaped down absently at the pinned vampire, who writhed in intense pain as Vincent grinded his elbow into Cellius's neck, the swordsman's intense weight crushing the boy's throat. The voice inside continued to berate him, however. I thought you were better than that. Better than an animal. Guess I was wrong about you. Your just a caged animal after all.

Immediately at this last statement, Vincent felt whatever presence had been inside his head disappear, along with the first one that had compelled him to literally rip his opponent apart. The animal-like fury/blood lust that he had felt earlier had almost now completely dissipated, leaving only a dull throb of irritation left as Vincent stared down silently at his vampire opponent.

"Cellius..." He murmured, and his grin faded to a look of disinterest. The silver eyes had stopped their whirling completely as they gazed downwards like twin stars in the moonlight, gleaming unnaturally. "...This fight is over." Without another moment's pause, Vincent released the intense weight upon the boy's neck and stood, shouldering the massive blade in his right hand. He cracked his neck as his silver hair fell to the side, covering one of his eyes before he turned his back to the vampire, turning his head to speak over his shoulder. "You've got some guts kid, and some talent there. But you lack experience." Ignoring the furiously bleeding wounds that had reopened upon his sudden movements, the blood dripping down his stomach and legs to stain his pants with red, Vincent waved one bloody hand in good bye as he turned and walked away, out of the arena. "Get some, and find me some day. I'd like to duel with ya again."

And in flash of brilliant light, the swordsman disappeared.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Are you okay, love?" Samantha whispered in his ear as he sat down on the bed, running his hands through his hair after setting his clothes down and his blade next to the mysterious scythe. His mind was filled with thoughts of the voices in his head, and what they meant. The first voice he had nearly heard all his life: it had driven him to this point in his life in the first place. Because of it he was who he was...a wandering swordsman.

What then was the second voice? This mysterious, maternal voice that had seemed to come out of no where, only to override his own instincts and stop him from being what he was. What in hell was it? He could only wonder.

"I'm...I'm fine." He murmured as Samantha wrapped her arms around his neck, her naked breasts pressing against the hardness of his back in a mixture of soft against tough. He grinned, a small smile but a smile nonetheless, and turned his head to press his lips against hers in a rough kiss.

She laughed and murmured back against his mouth. "...Mmmmmm...Are you sure?"

He nodded and chuckled back, forgetting his worries of the voices momentarily as he pinned her wrists down to the bed and causing her to gasp in pleasure as he bit her throat. His stomach, healed by the monks along with his hand, rubbed against her and caused her to moan as she thrust her hips up eagerly.

For now, he could forget to remember. For now, he could just give in to the animal inside without any worries. And as Samantha scratched his back with her long fingernails, causing deep red lines to gouge themselves into him, he growled and realized that for now, he could be insane.

And that was just fine with him.

However, even as he proceeded to make love to Samantha, twin eyes of deep blue watched the two from far away, and the woman in the black coat once again turned away. Her claymore upon her back glowed ominously purple in the shadows of the night, the moon having newly risen and casting a small glow over all of Radasanth like a pseudo-sun. Her black hair, rich as a raven's, swirled until it came over her face, and she whispered only a few words before disappearing into ashes like the last time she had surveyed Vincent in the Citadel with the machine named Shadow.

"Vincent...you must not be a caged animal. You must not."

Ending post. Spoils requested:
Blade Grasp-- Passive ability. Vincent's left hand has become tough enough where he can grab his opponent's own bladed weapons without being seriously hurt or injured. This is NOT to mean he is not cut, just that it will not cut through the muscles/bone of his hand as it has become habituated to the feel of steel. At this point, Vincent can grasp blades of Damascus metals and slightly above average quality or lower without severely injuring himself.
The Bloody Son, I shall submit this for judging.

[The Bloody Son]

The dust lie motionless in the boy's hair, glistening in the dull moonlight that began to overcast with the dark clouds. The humans body lowered upon the impact and pressed to Cellius' neck, causing his eyes to squint tightly and his sternocleidomastoid jutting from his neck in defense of his windpipe and esophagus. Cellius bared his fangs at Vincent as he spoke to the boy about skill and talent - as if he was any better. Such a disgrace, Cell thought Vincent was to the swordsmen across Althanas, but to be beaten by him ... a human ...

The man snorted and vanished and Cellius growled. He'd have his revenge eventually on his enemy, but for now ... for now. A white light engulfed the boy before the crows could feed and their angry caws and swarming, ghastly figures loomed before flying off disappointed.



::: ::: ::: ::: :::


"It was a good first try, sir..." The monk smiled widely and bowed his head to the citadel as he healed the boy's wounds and soreness to full capacity again. He chuckled as he did so and Cellius sighed heavily; unenthusiastically.

"Maybe next time I ask for a seat - you wont sit me in an arena, you damned monk. You proud of yourself?" Cellius wasn't very pleased, standing slowly as he moved beyond the room - only hearing "Yep" as he left...

Good deal. Thanks for the spar.

[Skie and Avery]

Battle Judging
Come get some, big sexy
The Bloody Son vs. Winterhair

The Bloody Son is in Dark Red
Winterhair is in White

STORY

Continuity
4 I got so little from your character as to where this battle lies in the grand scheme of things and why he was even here in the first place that I think the score I'm giving is generous.
6 While you gave me a reason for him to be in the Citadel, it was unimaginative. It was an easy excuse to be participating in this thread, and I would have liked to have seen something more connected with his backstory. Instead, I got, "Well Whore I'm Going To Use To Make Part of My Ending An Excerpt From A Romance Novel, time to go work on my abs."

Setting
6 I noticed you had construction floodlights in your arena. I couldn't find in your short profile history any mention of having been on Earth or from the future. The Citadel has no electricity, so.....this kind of didn't make any sense.
6

Pacing
6
5
While the main part of my beef here lies with Technique, both of you had posts that were so technical that it dragged out actions. Between that and your battle posts reading like, "OMG U R so obvius!" "LOL NO U LOLOLOL" "OMG DO U NO WHO I IS? Mai pwr lvl is OVER NINE THOUSAND!" this thread was ill handled.

CHARACTER

Dialogue
6
6
Nothing stood out here to make either of you shine. Oh wait, at one point The Blood Son mentioned a Band-Aide. That's an Earth based company, again making me wonder if there is much more that should have been put in the profile history.

Action
4
5
See Pacing

Persona
5
5
Flat characters that I couldn't identify with. Both of you wrote less to display any real personality and more to reflect who knew the most about beating people up. I believe the exact words in my notes were "Technical Pissing Contest."

WRITING STYLE

Technique
4 When a battle wasn't going on, your posts were mostly short and lacking any rich descriptions or deep character analysis that would have made your writing stand out. In a fight, you wrote each movement down like a textbook, or used your characters thoughts to point out how you thought your opponent should take more hits. It wasn't even well done to make it feel like his own thoughts. Instead it was the fourth wall slathered all over the place.
5 As far as writing a battle with as little feeling and passion as possible, you were guilty of the same crimes as The Bloody Son. Reading should be fun, a battle should be exciting. Don't tell me the movements with directions, muscles and body parts. Use sensory details. This really was a pissing contest between the two of you, and it wasn't a hoot to read.

Mechanics
6 There was some trouble with verb tense in post three. You used "is" when you should have used "was". Other than that, I never really caught any mistakes worth noting.
6 Post six "Lets" should have been "Let's". It's one of those top ten grammar errors, and sometimes hard to catch because spell-check won't grab it. This is why I like to stress post-publishing proofreading. That's why we have the edit button. One sentence that bothered me was about how he "...had picked up some Tae Kwon Do in his wanderings..." Did it come in a carry out box? he "...had picked up some techniques from the Tae Kwon Do masters in his wanderings..." sounds much better.

Clarity
7
7

MISCELLANEOUS

Wild Card
4
2

TOTAL
52
53
Winterhair is the winner.

The Bloody Son gains 150 EXP and 150 GP
Winterhair gains 500 EXP and 450 GP

Winterhair gains Blade Grasp with the following limitations. It can only be done once per battle, on a blade of steel or lesser material hewn of average or lesser quality. Please note this in your next profile update with a link to this judgement. 150 gold was taken from the original total of your spoils to pay for this ability.

[The Bloody Son]

Good battle, Winter.

- Seeing as this was my first battle, it was really good to read your critique, Skie. Thank you sincerely. I'm used to fighting in a "technical" aspect and that's why I name which limb, which muscle, which body part, head motion, movements, down to a T.

Ayenee is a sick-disgusting stickler for technicality and exact, precise, technical motion.

I just need to unlearn it and have fun with the battle. I felt more obsessed to win the fight overall, than to just enjoy it and get my ass handed to me. D;

I blame the boy in me. Testosterone, FtL.

[Zook Murnig]

EXP/GP ADDED!