Arena battle at dusk!

Fair_Game

I won't look back
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[OOC : Character Participating - Nathan Heimdall (see link for Approved Bio information)
http://www.finalfantasyforums.net/battle-hardened/nathan-heimdall-20552.html#post366968

Note : This challenge is for anyone interested in a quick match. This Match serves two distinct purposes, one for allowing me to test out my Character prior to actually engaging him in Legendary combat...I wish to see if he's too weak. And two for testing out my Post limit conditional experiment.

To Accept this Challenge : Post your character's introduction and include the ration 1/7 at the top of your post. Then PM me with any questions you may have about the Post limit system I'm developing.

This is a One on One battle with a Post limit of 7 per combatant, Forum rules apply and good luck!]

[1/7]

As Nathan Heimdall's sandals scrapped the sandy surface of the arena floor the crowd fell into hysterics. A dull roar lulled through the stadium filling the night air with a reverberating hum that shook the rock and cement building to its very foundation. The center stage had been left empty to allow for maximum confrontation between the two entering combatants, all props and gimmicks had been replaced by dry barren and rotting earth. The stadium itself was separated from the center combat ring, held on high above a towering 20 foot wall. The cheerful echo instilled the image of a titan returning home from battle, a war hero who saved the country-side from an enemy invader, the successful return of a long lost son.

Nathan smiled through his pearly white teeth. He had wanted to believe it was that way. He wanted to believe that he was the exalted people's champion. Any thoughts of the grim alternative would leave him disdaining humanity, the notion that these fair citizens had cheered for a man they wished dead left an ugly taste in his mouth. Instead, he choose to look this moment in its gaping black hole of a mouth with a grin. For after all, what if he should win?

The portcullis behind him slammed shut with a mighty thud, leaving the
cheerful combatant isolated from the world. His eyes darted to the portal immediately across from him. For in an instant the drawbridge would lower and his date with death would reveal its sinister appearance. Would he find friend or foe behind that gate?

The crowd positively bellowed in anticipation.

Nathan Heimdall shrugged off his netting letting the large interwoven cage dip carelessly in his left hand, while his right spun expertly his trident. The tiny cleats on his sandals ground further into the sandy earth while Nathan's sun-stained locks of hair fluttered behind him. A large bead of sweat formed on his brow, like condensation on an warming beverage.

'I swear,' Nathan whispered to no one in particular, 'If I survive this, I'll never fight again.'

And as the last few words spilled from his tongue the opposing gate began to lower...
 
((OOC: http://www.finalfantasyforums.net/b...oon-with-the-wyvern-eye-15136.html#post258918
Excellent! (cue Bill and Ted guitar riff) I haven't had a chance to play this guy against another player yet. His name is Skaol.

[1/7]

As Skaol waited for the arena gate to lower, his calm, sleepy visage did nothing to reflect the anticipation he was feeling inside. A vain spear fighter was all the man had told him. Could it possibly be Wylliam, the man for whom Skaol had spent the last three years searching? It was a long shot, but he had decided to chance it and enlist in the competition. Outside, he could hear the muffled screams of a galvanized crowd. He brushed a strand of his black hair behind his right ear and smiled lazily. This competition meant nothing to him. If the man outside was not Wylliam, he would simply withdraw from the fight.

At this moment, the gate dropped. Unable to discern his opponent, Skaol walked into the combat area and was met with a roar from the crowd. He wondered with amusement how the excitable crowd would react if he simply withdrew without fighting, should his opponent be someone other than Wylliam. He squinted and saw immediately that it was not. This man had long blonde hair and fought with what appeared to be a Trident.

Skaol shrugged and turned back to leave. Suddenly, the gate slammed shut with a crash. He ran up to it and started banging a gauntleted fist on the gate. "Hey! I withdraw! Let me out!" It was in vain, however, as the only response he got was a chorus of boos. He sighed, turned, and drew his rapier. It would seem the crowd would get their fight.

As he walked to the center of the ring, his cape and the cloth trailing from the hilt of his rapier fluttered lazily. Upon reaching the center, Skaol offered a lazy smile to his opponent, and said apologetically over the crowd, "I would much rather be napping right now, but it would seem that will have to wait until after our fight." He pointed his rapier vertically infront of his face and brought it down to his side in a kind of salute. Skaol decided to gauge his opponent's strength before bringing his family's battle style into the mix. "I'll move first," he said with a kind smile and charged at his opponent, aiming a flat thrust parallel to the ground at his opponent's right arm, preparing to move into a horizontal slash should his opponent dodge to the left rather than parrying his thrust.
 
[2/7]

The sound of steel punctuated the dreamy warrior's speech with an uncharacteristically sharp point. A violent snap lashed out but strangely it targeted the only guarded area on Nathan's body. In response to which, the sturdy arm guard resounded with a wry, dull thud. The thin point of the sword barely scratching the gold plated surface of the face of the Ram at his elbow. Peering into his opponents eye's, Nathan could hardly discern if the assault was a feint!

Puffy eyelids covered lazily over the warriors face, making it difficult to read his intent. If the lack of interest in the fight hadn't been apparent with the 'withdraw' stunt the heavily armored warrior had pulled just seconds prior, it certainly was apparent now. Could Nathan be so outmatched, that he wouldn't even warrant interest? Or was this somehow the duelist's intent all along?

Nathan pushed hard with the momentum of the deflected sword knocking it further from its mark. His left hand swinging the heavy net menacingly towards the open face of Skaol, several sharp pins threatening to claw out his eyes in an attempt to blind the opponent and quickly end the match. Nathan kicked back a full two feet away from the opponent then lashed out three successive stabs from his trident. The sharp prongs all aiming at the heavily guarded torso in an attempt to shatter the armor and pierce the flesh.

 
[2/7]

The Edgar Art of War it is, Skaol thought with a smile as his opponent saw through his feint; parrying his attack instead of dodging. The moment his sword contacted his opponent's armor, Skaol relaxed all the muscles in his body and watched passively as his opponent slung his net at his face. At the last possible moment, Skaol let all the strength leave his body at once, slumping in a heap on the ground, then immediately rolling out from under the net before it fell onto the ground. Unfortunately, his cape became caught under the net, forcing him to rip himself free. He looked up just in time to see his opponent rushing at him, trident first. The first strike Skaol was able side step, the second he managed to parry, but the third found its mark. Skaol did his best to roll with the blow, but once he regrouped after the blow, he noticed three new dimples in the chest plate of his armor. He returned his eyes to those of his opponent and smiled warmly.

"You're quite a versatile fighter," Skaol said, brushing a stray strand of black hair back into place, "please do not be offended by my next move. I assure you, I take you quite seriously." With that, Skaol let out a wide yawn, slouched and peered out at his opponent through half-closed eyes, teetering on the line between consciousness and unconsciousness, waiting to react to whatever his opponent had to throw at him.
 
[3/7]

The armor reverberated with a crisp 'clang' as the trident met its mark. Three dimples appeared as Nathan pulled back his weapon, and slung it into a defensive position, leading with his right arm for protection. Skoal righted himself then let out a yawn, it was almost as if he was bored by the fight. Nathan's training at gladiator school had taught him never to question why an opponent revealed a weakness, only to strike when the opportunity presented itself.

'Must not have gotten enough rest, eh tough-guy?' Nathan chortled, 'well, I gotta say its prit-ty disappointing to fight the only guy with sudden narcolepsy in the joint.'

With that Nathan pulled back on his netting, freeing the dagger sharp pins from the ground. His left hand spun the net like a discus coercing it to expand past its normal 7 foot expansion and hovered casually over where Skoal's head would be. Within a moment the netting threatened to trap the drowsy adversary in a constricting trap, and pin him down from the excessive weight of the pins as they would dig deep into the ground.

'Even should he manage to move quick enough the pins'll probably scar up whatever they touch,' he thought to himself, 'but from the looks of it, THAT guy isn't going anywhere...'

Nathan decided it best to remain defensive and continued to present his right side in case the sleepy swordsman had been pulling a prank on him. Nathan choked up on his trident and let his right thumb rub feverishly at the face of Poseidon.

 
((OOC: Sorry for the delay. This week has been very hectic, getting moved into my dorm at the University of Florida. Now that I'm moved in, though, I have a bit more free time. Classes don't start 'til next week :wacky:))

[3/7]
As the net spun above his head, Skaol let all of his body weight shift to the right of his center of gravity, causing him to stumble hurriedly to the right. However, as the net came down, two pins on the outer weave caught him by the side of the face, causing his limply held body to flip out from under him and fall onto the ground, face down. He slowly and wobbily got back onto his feet, exposing two bleeding cuts on his cheek. He paid them no mind, however, as he gazed sleepily at his opponent. A nervous habit, perhaps? Skaol thought to himself as he watched through half-closed eyes his opponent stroke a face near the head of his weapon. In any case, he is avoiding close combat. One would have expected him to leap at me with his weapon after catching me with his net. Oh well, better bring the fight to him. Skaol leaned forward and began to dash at the man, circling to the side and attacking his less armored left arm with another flat thrust. That net had been giving him more problems than the trident.
 
[4/7]

The sluggish movement of the dreamy opponent reminded Nathan of watching sap pour out of a tree, Skaol shifted his upper body to a side and flopped out of the way of his net, quicker than if he had not been so oddly lethargic. It would seem that the duelist had complete control over his body, even while in a stanch stance. This would have been sickeningly apparent to the beguiled Nathan, that his adversary required input from the enemy leaving him highly open to larger assaults, had it not been for a single phrase screaming repeatedly in his mind.

'ohjesusohjesusohjesusoh...jesus!'


Skaol charged in with a slice aimed at Nathan Heimdall's left arm, and in his momentary panic the aquatic combatant forgot which arm his guard was on. Foolishly assuming his opponent would make the same mistake twice and taking a piercing slash to his upper forearm. Nathan leapt back howling in pain, his net tugged from its tether dragged across the ground. The sandy floor caught under his left foot and forced him to a knee. A steady stream of blood spun down his arm, quickly Nathan ripped at a tear in his shorts and pulled off a long strip of cloth, he'd have to redirect the opponents next attack to buy himself enough time to address his wound.

Nathan pulled himself to his feet and swapped his trident to his left hand, while he pulled his left foot behind his right and turned his torso to minimize his strike zone, his right arm stuck out defensively. A trail of blood dripped down his wounded arm and splattered on the sandy floor.

'Come on friend, our public needs us.'
 
[4/7]
Though the 'shocked look' impulse didn't quite make it from his brain to his face, Skaol was surprised that his attack actually connected. He had been hoping to goad his opponent into attacking with the trident, potentially opening a hole in his defenses. Still, a successful hit to the arm was certainly not a bad thing.

The opponent backed hurriedly away, dragging the net across the ground. Skaol hoped that the injury would dissuade his opponent from continued use of the net. As long as it was trident against sword, Skaol was in fairly familiar territory. He could remember quite easily the sparring matches against Wylliam and the techniques he had developed to counter the long-range advantage of a spear. Unless his present opponent had some more tricks up his sleeve, Skaol was confident that he could win this fight.

'Come on friend, our public needs us.' The man said, his body positioned defensively with his right arm in front.

Skaol chuckled sleepily and said quietly, "What our public needs is a life..." However, circumstances what they were, the fight needed to be finished. Hopefully, he could do so quickly. What had before felt like a mild itch on his cheek was slowly becoming more painful. Skaol reckoned he had about another fifteen minutes before he was wide awake (or as awake as he ever was, in any case). Continuing his assault, Skaol once again began to dash at his opponent, this time attacking with a thrust to the man's leading right leg, just above the knee. While he attacked, he kept a wary (and weary) eye on the man's weapon. The last thing he needed was acupuncture in the back.
 
[5/7]

Nathan pivoted on his exposed knee as the thrust came down, his right arm pulled tightly at the memory strand on his grounded net. Remember your form, he thought as the sword cut deeply into his right leg. The sting was buffered by adrenaline, sedated by hormones coursing through his bloodstream, the blood vessel in his knee burst washing the hard unforgiving ground in red, like a rusty spigot. His swift movement spun him to face the opponents full front at the same time, the smooth movement tugged the net to snap into action. The memory strand pulled the net skyward trying to trap Skaol in a death grasp.

'No, friend,' he remarked wildly, 'there busy trying to take OURS!'

The shout emboldened his resolve as he thrust his left hand towards the target. Blue streaks of electricity spooled around his wrist and arched from the unforgiving face of Poseidon. An electric blur ripped from his trident and charged rapidly at his enemy. A four foot blast shooting out at Skaol threatening to fry him where he stood.

Pain suddenly tugged at Nathan's mind flattening him to the ground. His mind swam as he tried to reclaim his footing, to no avail...

 
((OOC: I. Am. SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO SORRY!!! My God, the university has already begun to rot my brain. Please forgive my lack of attention.))

[5/7]

How very unlike me, totally forgetting about that net, Skaol thought with annoyance as he felt the ground move beneath his feet. However, his face continued to show only calm and weariness, marked with a bit of surprise, as the net he had so carelessly ran over took the shape of a cage, trapping him within the confines of the netting.

Finally, Skaol was forced to drop his smile as a streak of lightning headed straight at him. "Damn!" he exclaimed as, after some quick thinking, he forced the point of his rapier through a space in the netting and right at the approaching electricity. The lightning hit the sword, traveled to the hilt, where the force was somewhat absorbed, before knocking Skaol into the netting behind him. In the end, Skaol was left on the ground, entangled by the net and shaken by the force of the charge. He tried to gather enough strength to stand, but failed. The shock had forced Skaol from his half-conscious state, leaving him to feel the undulled pain from his injuries. Peering through the netting, he saw that his opponent was also, for the moment, grounded. Skaol began to furiously saw at the strands that bound him, trying to force an opening wide enough for him to crawl through before his opponent could recover.
 
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