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Post by Capper the Patroller on Dec 18, 2017 2:10:19 GMT
Arena Five, Round Two. Halfway there, Capper coached himself.
Mammon was another brutal fighter Capper had noted to distance himself from- Zoraba as well... This was going to be something."In the Middle League we have Zoraba and Mammon battling in Round Two!"
ROUND TWO of the Minor League's Multiversal Tournament has begun! Player Versus Player Matches have a set 48 hour timer for posts. Failing to post in time will result in disqualification. After ten days pass (*10 minutes IC), if a knockout, ring out, and so on is not accomplished, judges will decide a winner. Without further adieu, get to punching each other.
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Post by Mammon on Dec 18, 2017 4:45:01 GMT
| Round Two |
Mammon's PL:
Active: 250,000 Base: 178,740
There are only three types of people in this world, those who perform, those who watch, and there are those who sell them pies. So take a big bite of the crust, hand the nice man a fiver and go take your seat, your show will begin momentarily. He sat in one of the locker room rooms for combatants, the low hanging ceiling lights casting a wan glow over the room, they'd ever so often turn off leaving the room bathed in darkness, while the other half they'd blink fitfully like some great artificial eye with allergies.
He sat there in the strobe light, his head hung low his hair hanging over his face like a dirty veil "How did it get like this," he sat up, he wore loose fitting shorts, with two bright red boxing gloves hanging from a string around his neck. an open gown that revealed much of his chest, embroidered in the material it read on the back 'contender'. "how did it get like this?"
Yeah
He remembered
He entered the ring to the explosion of voices from the arena, even here they had nothing but contempt for him, could he really blame them? Sure he could, he had done it for most of his life. His opponent was one of those wilderness freaks he guessed, the type who could pass for half bear in dim light, in fact, he remembered this freak, he had gotten the chance to watch this one's fight. "I saw your last match, it was-" he paused for a moment, he tried desperately to find one thing nice to say about that fight, empires rose and fell in the silence yet he couldn't find a single thing. "-certainly a match, no one could deny that there had been one, they announced your names and everything. Anything else is however debatable."
He brought his guard up taking a boxer's stance, his hands darted out in rapid succession leaving the air humming with their passing, he warmed up as they began to announce their names. "Are you a betting man Zoraba?" he gave him a thin smile "Cause a lot of other people are, but let me tell you the odds of beating me. Zero out of ten, those are long odds. Impossible odds."
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Post by Zoraba, The Hound of War on Dec 19, 2017 23:38:12 GMT
His head buzzed as his mind felt foggy, slumping against a row of lockers as he tried to remember where he was or why he was. Zoraba had won his last match he remembered, his hands rubbing at the collar on his neck that left it raw but kept him subdued. After he threw his opponent and knocked them out he had been declared the winner, which led to him dutifully retrieving his collar and replacing it back on his neck. But that had been the last round and now he had a new opponent to fight. Climbing out of the den of the locker room her walked out into the crowded arena which was actually followed by cheering. It appeared that at least some of the audience had enjoyed his previous fight, though it had been short it was peppered with action. Zoraba looked around as his mind finally started to clear and he looked around himself and then to Mammon who stood across from him. “ Beat him.” He thought to himself as the demon started a conversation with the wild saiyan man. “ You did?” he asked “ My match…” he watched as hands flurried in front of his demonic opponent. A grin spread across his face as Mammon tried to discourage the saiyan. “ Say what you will imp. Zoraba doesn’t bet no, but people bet on him.” A hand reached up to tug on the collar, the hunk of metal wiggling in place “ When this comes off I won’t… be the same. You’ll be fighting less but more of me.” A quiet chuckle escaped him “ Good luck.” With a beep the collar fell away from the tree trunk like neck of the saiyan and his eyes were darker then they had been before and then brighter. His hair flashing from black to a garish golden as power surged in the ring and his transformation was complete. His chuckle growing louder as this went out cackling like mad as his head rolled back and it rang out to the heavens. When it was all said and done his head snapped back down and he glowered at Mammon, his fingers curling and knuckles cracking gruesomely “ Beat… him...” The announcer’s voice rang in “ Begin!”
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Post by Mammon on Dec 20, 2017 2:15:03 GMT
| Round Two | Mammon's PL: Active: 250,000 Base: 178,740
He had actually shown up, better that he hadn't, it would've saved him the effort, the challenger the embarrassment, and the crowd discomfort. But he guessed he had to challenge sensibility by putting down Lola the dancing bear. Dance for me Lola.
"I will say what I want." really, 'imp'. Why was it everyone went for the obvious insults, there was a wealth of far more deeply personal quips one could dig into, far more compelling than 'monkey' or 'ape'. Just by looking at this man he knew a few things, he prized strength over most things, probably had a twisted sense of honor or duty: probably doesn't like long words. He knew all this by simply seeing the man and this close he could smell him too, and people said not to judge a book by its cover. "And I will keep saying it."
"Your collar you say, really, we're doing that cliche." he raised a single eyebrow in a mile long stare, he could pin things to the walls with that look; it said without needing to speak 'I am so unimpressed right now you couldn't ring one drop of enthusiasm out of me if you had an army, and a full team of oxen to pull'. "Let me see if I got this straight, so you gain more power- no that wouldn't be the right choice of words. You think you get more power when you take off that bit of plastic, but at the cost of your mental faculties." he shook his head like he had heard it a million times, this was the equivalent of the soldier's lucky sock. He'd swear to his grave he'd shoot better while wearing it, but sadly that's where these misguided beliefs usually put these people -- Their Graves. "Tell me when the long words start confusing you."
"Beat... me.." he mimicked in perfect neanderthal. "Even if you had this secret power, which I'm skeptical of, the vargas technology keeps our strengths suppressed. All you've done is made yourself stupid and desperate, and I'm not nice enough to let it slide." he didn't give him the chance to dwell on his words. He'd be here all day with the ape sounding out the syllables. He ducked with a serpents grace and, as fast as a cobra his fists darted out. If he'd hit his hand's would break over him like rain; one, two, three, four... and to top it off he broke character, which he added a decidedly less boxing like move to the mix by following that up with an attempted knee to the gut, aiming to suck the wind out of his lungs and leave him reeling.
"Fun fact," which wasn't the 'hahaha' kind, it was the kind that made you wince. Like the death toll of an earthquake being a funny number. 'sixty-nine people dead in earthquake' said the news reporter keeping down a snicker, he knew it was wrong but he couldn't help it. "You know they put heated plates beneath animals? They jump up and down and go from toe to toe and people would just laugh, cause it looks like they're dancing. I thought you'd like to know that; after all, this crowd came out here to just watch you dance."
He winced jumping back putting distance between the two, ending the melee. He favored one leg, leaning heavily on it while he feigned discomfort on the other as if in the attack he had wounded it in the altercation, if he was really as stupid as he sounded he'd fall for the bait hook line and sinker, and he would sink. This wasn't a match anymore, it had devolved far past that, this was a hunt for the most dangerous game, the riddle of the savannah. Beast or man, which would it be?
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Post by Zoraba, The Hound of War on Dec 21, 2017 20:53:04 GMT
Zoraba was annoyed with this one already, a bag of hot air and big words. Thinking that his monologue belonged in the ring and not in a theater and that would be his undoing. None of what was said really registered to the Saiyan after he removed his collar, he was just here to do the job and enjoy himself, really revel in it. Like Hedon he relished the pleasure, the pleasure to bloody someone, and his Empress always let him do as he liked as long as it was within the realm of the mission. Fast strikes stung at Zoraba but like pesky fleas that sipped the blood of the better. That’s what this little man was, he fed off the stronger to ignite the fires within him, lived in their shadow to shield himself from those who would seek his death and the death of everyone like him. It wouldn’t be the first pest Zoraba crushed and no not that last either. Those hits did pile on and the knee to the gut even made him flinch. Zoraba wiped his mouth while Mammon made a cowardly retreat out of the Saiyan’s reach. That wouldn’t really help him though because Zoraba threw himself at the demon lunging like a hungry dog to it’s fresh cut of meat. His hands clamping down on the arms of his opponent and squeezing him like a lemon, yellow like one to. Lifting the demonic individual into the air and then slamming his body down onto the outstretched and fierce knee that propelled itself into the gut’s of Mammon, over and over. Either the brutality or the simplicity lead to the crowd to counting out each knee to the gut. He was juicing Mammon like a lemon on his piercing patella. When finished Zoraba tossed the demon away equal distance as there had been before and snorted. “ Talk too much.” he grumbled as he laughed again and watched his opponent from where he stood not wanting to get closer in case he was trying to bait him or anything, certainly that would be a silly thing to do.
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Post by Mammon on Dec 22, 2017 4:48:20 GMT
| Round Two | Mammon's PL: Active: 250,000 Base: 178,740
People often confused talk for just that, talk, no it was the hyperlane of communication, mere vibrations in the air turning into fully visualized concepts, by talking you could get to know people, get to know your opponent. This one would always choose the path of least resistance, but sadly it is a long walk filled with pitfalls.
His hand's impacted on the slab of muscle, his fist's repelled as surely as if they were striking a wall, no motor shook free, and certainly, no breath sucked from his lung's. It was as if he was punching kevlar, it absorbed his blows like a sponge spreading the impact over a wider area, but the thing about it, it wasn't impervious.
"You know-" he didn't go for the leg, he had given the brute too much credit, but he had fought brutes before, he- the arm's encircled him squeezing the breath from his lung's and making his eye's goggle, but it only got worse, the leg made touch down with his bulk sending bolts of pain throughout his body, his face was drawn with lines of agony until the contact made it slack with the shock and surprise, the world swam before bleary watery eye's. But the crowd only ever got to "ONE!" the next knee to his everything met very little resistance, the strange ropey thing that brushed past simply climbed up his body, or should I say slithered.
The demon was gone, it had only taken a moment for his opponent, but for him, it was a lifetime. His skin began to itch, then burn, and the fire went deeper and deeper until his very bones were alight, shifted and reformed under this inner furnace's heat, and the world melted like candle wax. Now there was a jet black length of scales, with cruel eye's that reflect no warmth, and when a hiss bubbled up from its throat there would be no mistaking it, the demon had changed form as a man might a suit turning into a large snake.
He would never get the chance to toss the demon, instead, the serpent opened up its mouth and lunged for the jugular intent to server important lifelines and arteries, his teeth were as knives ready to peal him like some daft fruit analogy. He'd soon dislodge if he found purchase slithering down the titanic idiot, the man would probably be in shock. Demon plus hands equal snake? The maths just didn't add up.
"You talk too much." he reverted back to his original self, resuming his guard and waiting for his handy work to become apparent.
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Post by Zoraba, The Hound of War on Dec 23, 2017 23:10:11 GMT
Fangs sunk deep into flesh but the combat hardened Zoraba had managed to roll his body to the side and his shoulder had taken the dangerous bite. His mind buzzed as he had just watched a man turn into a snake and then back again and he considered what to do now. Usually he could overwhelm his opponent with his boot strength but this one had a bag of tricks. Sizing the creature up full and planning a move for once. The Saiyan was going to use his military training something he hadn’t actually put into a fight in a very long time. Really Mammon should feel honored that Zoraba has to think about this fight. The musclebound beast leaps up into the air in a cloud of air pushes out from where he launched himself. He hung there for half a second and his furry body blocked out the sun if one were to look up at him and then he came back down like a meteor at Mammon. A strike doesn’t hit Mammon however as a heavy barefoot plants onto the ring and shatters the stone into a million jagged pieces. The cracks crawling under the demon’s footing and collapses under him just a few inches, possibly knocking off his stance. A grin flashes from Zoraba as he reaches a tree trunk like arm out towards his opponent and slams his palm into his face. A blast of pure raw energy bursting out into the fiends face as the force of the blow smashes into his nose and the rest of his identity.
Zoraba used Growling Shot Gun [N1]: Zoraba thrusts his hand at the target and strikes them with his palm, letting out a blast of Ki for that extra edge. Uses one KP and charges at 33%.
KP: 2/3
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Post by Mammon on Dec 24, 2017 15:50:49 GMT
| Round Two | Mammon's PL: Active: 250,000 Base: 178,740
Time the silent killer, time the forgotten friend, only missed in passing. Time, he didn’t have much of it. From the moment he stuck his teeth in that roided out slab of muscle it had left a bad taste in his mouth. “Believe me, that was worse for me than you. I think I’ll have the taste of monkey in my mouth for weeks to come.”
In but moments that became the least of his worries as his foe impacted the ground, it shuddered and moved like a living thing, livid lines appearing in its surface, all he could hope for would be to weather it like a fat kid in a wave pool, just keep swimming.
And the final grain in the hourglass tinkled into the bottom, the saiyen appeared before him, he felt the rise in the heat before seeing it, the light streamed across his face in his best impression of a disco ball. It hit him and hard, he was torn from his feet as if by a powerful wind, it was only by sheer will and luck he wasn’t ringed out, he was upside down horns first in what remained of the arena floor.
“Alright, I didn’t expect that.” He righted himself with a push from his arm’s bits of stone still cling to his head like an earthen crown. “But, what is life without its little surprises? Like the penny found on the footpath, or that extra helping of fries you didn’t order. Or roasting that stupid look off your face!” He was done playing nice, he had tried witty banter and gotten a mouth full of rocks for his trouble, it was time to get nasty, it was time to turn up the heat.
It didn’t start with an announcement like one of those Power Ranger rejects, it just happened. He closed his mouth his cheeks began to expand out, and when he opened it again roaring white-hot flames spilled out like a dam bursting. It sucked the moisture from the air, it warped the stone and left it shiny and glassy where it touched, and it came for Zorba. Now, how much time did he have?Took the hit from Growling Shot Gun Zorba’s N1 MP3 EVIL FLAME LINK - aimed at Zorba |
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Post by Zoraba, The Hound of War on Dec 26, 2017 5:00:39 GMT
The thick chest of the saiyan bounced as he cackled, the demon had been planted like a land dart horn first into the stone. In the least it had closed his mouth for half a second and what an image. Zoraba wiped tears from his eyes as his opponent righted himself and began to mouth off again. It appeared that Mammon was eager to judge others for talking too much but then takes up all the air space. Now the demon seemed mad though and soon his sallow cheeks puffed up and his mouth opened wide letting out a blanket of fire that was hotter than Hades. Sprinting away from the flame as it pushed him towards the edge of the ring and engulfed most if it in dangerous embers and glassy slick stone. The beast of a man was keeping his eye on Mammon however and swung around the ring in a quick arc as his bare feet dug into the stone and suddenly Zoraba disappeared from where he was as the flames ate up where he would have been. Then he was right next to Mammon and a beefy arm lurched up with a curled fist and knuckles attempting to smash into the chin of the fire breather, forcing his mouth closed. If so Zoraba’s arm didn’t stop as he gave him a savage uppercut his body turning with it until he left contact and slid past where his opponent stood and near the corner of the ring, regaining his stance as he looked for wherever Mammon could have landed, if he even hit him, it had all moved so fast.
Zoraba used Instinct [SU1]: With an amazing burst of speed Zoraba dodges an attack that is beneath 100% of his PL. Uses one KP.
KP: 1/3
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Post by Mammon on Dec 27, 2017 3:33:52 GMT
| Round Two |
Mammon's PL:
Active: 250,000 Base: 178,740
This noncombatant, this idiot, he wasn't playing by the rules. The punch took him full on in the face his jaw clicking together as lower met upper; he was tossed up and off the ground his leg's folding up under him a moment later as he made touchdown with the arena, tossing up a shower of loose stones and dust with a 'pft'. "I must admit-" he pressed thumb and forefinger into his jaw working them in quick movements, trying to get some feeling back. "-I thought you a joke and a bad one at that. But now I get it, I really do, so want to hear the punchline?"
It happened like a fat man trying to get back into his old high-school shirt, first, the rips appeared, naked skin showing plainly through the tears and holes, and then one by one like a machine gun the buttons would fly off, the only thing this trip down memory lane would do was show how much things have changed. Like any good werewolf movie the transformation was stunning and gorey, pieces of skin was shed like so many rags revealing thick long arm's covered in matted fur, the mouth opened up until rips began to appear on the sides of his cheeks and a long snout was forced out until what stood before the ape-man was entirely different to what had entered the arena.
It had a goats head with cruel horns, a mouth full of teeth that would even make a chainsaw blush, it had long distended hands and powerful legs. There was only one point to transforming in the tournament, it was weight and reach, for as strong as power levels are they still bend to the laws of mass and leverage. And he had a whole lotta mass. He came upon him like a tidal wave of muscle, long hand's reaching out to take fist full of him, a head that snapped out every third blow to either bite or gore the sayien.
He was done playing silly buggers with bigfoot.1/3 Zoraba |
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Post by Zoraba, The Hound of War on Dec 29, 2017 1:59:53 GMT
`Zoraba might have been shocked or disgusted by the disturbing sight of this man becoming more like a beast, horns sprouting from a distorted head and creepy eyes. He would have been anyway if he hadn’t seen about a million transformations of other saiyans becoming their monstrous Oozaru forms. This was just a variation on that cherished classic and didn’t have much of an effect on the Saiyan. `However when the massive hunk of fresh grown muscle slammed into him knocked Zoraba off his feet as he landed on his back and he slide across the floor with the creature atop him in a flurry of blows. He wasted no time in throwing back his own attacks, pummeling fists into Mammon’s new face, his kidneys and his ribs. His owl mouth full of oversized teeth and massive canines biting into his flesh as he too was bitten. They were locked into a ball of fury together as the fight has become just that, aggressive and animalistic. `Eventually Zoraba was able to get a leg up and free of the grapple and in between the both of them, kicking into Mammon’s gut and pushing him off just enough for Zoraba to roll backwards from his position on his back. He only managed to get to a knee as he wiped fresh blood from his mouth, and whether it had been saiyan or demon it was impossible to say. “ This… this is the fight.” He managed to huff out as he caught his breath and stared down at mammon before climbing back to his feet. His fist curled and arcs of power leaped out around his clenched fingers as he held his hand behind him.
Zoraba is charging Joker Javelin [UP2]: This attack is similar to the N1 but is stronger and that is visualized by the crackling of Ki like lightning from the spike. Uses two KP and charges at 66%.
KP: 2/3
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Post by Mammon on Dec 30, 2017 3:25:22 GMT
| Round Two |
Mammon's PL:
Active: 250,000 Base: 178,740
The opportunist's cup was half full, The pessimist's cup was half empty. His was cloudy. Thought's bubbled to the surface but quickly disappeared below, it was almost like watching someone else, as his arm's snapped out to dip furrows through his opponents, when that foghorn of a roar left his throat it surprised even him.
'This... this is the fight', that sentence hurt him more than any of his attacks, it said absolutely nothing, didn't say if it was a good fight or a bad one. It just said it was a fight, and any mentally confused sheep could've told you that. It was like the man was slowly killing the english language, and people applauded. But all that was like ripples on a deep lake.
His wound's nagged at him like a mosquito, they were gonna hurt after the match, he'd be a sheet of bruises, but he had enough adrenaline racing around in his body that he swatted it aside, a problem for future Mammon. His breath came out in a steaming cloud, it clung to his mussel before becoming transparent and finally vanishing. He wasn't about to allow his opponent time to catch his breath, after all, wasn't this what he wanted? You talk too much.
2/3
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Bing Gan
Administrator
PL: 374,871
Enlightenment (x16P), S. Ascension (x23)
Zeni: 13,528
Tag: @bingg
OOC Name: Bing/Biggums/TruetoCaesar
Posts: 3,722 
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Post by Bing Gan on Jan 4, 2018 10:03:05 GMT
Ornee blinked awkwardly. The time patroller who'd been commentating the matches had never come back from his bathroom break, leaving the Vargas all alone at the desk.
He squawked nervously as the timer clanged, noting the end of the match. Uncertainty in his talons, he clicked a button, and moved up to the microphone.
"Ahem-- The winner is... Uh... Zoraba!"
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