Description: Krauser invites Igniz and Alma into his parlor for a little life lesson. Krauser's teaching style would probably get him into trouble in the public school system, and Laurence Blood is the worst hall monitor EVER. (Winner: The House of Strolheim)
COMBATSYS: Blood has ended the fight here.
Strolheim Castle, like many such structures, even with few kept in such exquisite repair, is a study in extremes and everything in between. A room for every mood of the most whimsical and eccentric man, from the tiniest of chambers and the dank, dark dungeons to the sprawling banquet halls and courtyards. The Atrium tends towards the latter approach, a massive, enormous cavernous room that reaches up, up, up into the heights of the towers, its eventual ceiling little more than a spectacular masterwork of crystalline glass and filigreed gold and silver latticework, casting the night-hued, rock-hewn chamber in glimmering lunar light from the full moon overhead. It's not -bright-, but particularly once one's eyes adjust, it's more than bright enough. One of tonight's participants has been here, his presence obvious, even down the halls. Not only for the sheer strength of the massively built Germanic Nobleman, a presence so well-defined and focused most fighters would be hard pressed NOT to sense it, but for his beautiful, masterful melodies reverberating forth from the vaulted room, the built-in pipe organ singing out its deep, rich medley of classical notes.
Beethoven was an intense man, and timeless compositions help to reinforce exactly what Krauser is about. What this entire -place- is focused towards. Legacy, strength, perfection - synergy of arms and knowledge in a world that no longer understands either. Fine wines, honor, a /good/ book... things that seem devalued everyday from this Lord's perspective, as exemplified by one of the entrants in his challenging tournament. The Lovable Igniz. Krauser does not love Igniz - he does not even respect the basis on which the man has attained power. The challenge was issued to Alma, indirectly, to take what he could of the lessons the blonde man so blatantly embodies. Krauser has hopes for many of the participants, for what they can be, for what it might mean for Strolheim - but he has very different intentions for Igniz. The invitation was to battle, not to dine, not to philosophize, he is not here to hear what the statuesque overlord has to say.
Wolfgang Krauser's thick fingers gracefully, eloquently thrum the keys with rhythmic, blurring equilibrium, the speed of the piece offset by the sudden decrescendo, the slow retard (no, not Igniz, the musical tempo. Peons.). It ebbs as the others approach, and the Kaiser rises. There is no ceremonial armor, no servants with trumpets or lute. He is barechested, his massive physique expanding and contracting with each steady breath, a pair of finest, crimson silk pants and boots covering his legs and feet, belted at the waist in black leather and gold. No, he is not here to entertain, nor to honor. The mighty Kaiser flexes one arm up behind his head, and then the other, rippling muscles dominating each motion, "Hmph." He utters to his comrade and modern-day Knight, hidden in the shadows off to the side of the room, "Even a beating is more than this poseur deserves, but it is impossible to resist."
It overwhelms the senses.
Fractured moonlight bathes the atrium in an ethereal glow; the deep notes shiver through crystal and gold. Melancholy and might, found within the light, the sound-- and the force of the lone man sitting there, resplendant in all his lordly glory.
Alma Towazu is in awe.
He has arrived silently, not with any pretense of stealth but in the vain hope that he will be able to leave this setting undisturbed. His head is tilted back toward the ceiling, his lips parted as though hunting for raindrops, as though tasting the air. The young man is as always the model of understated elegance, his designer jeans slim but not overwrought and his white high-collared zip-up more finely tailored than it lets on, and it suits his position as a passive observer here, allowing him to take in the ambiance with all of his senses. Yet Alma, though always open to being impressed and ever in search of sincere passion with others, is not so easily swept away like this; only one sense, far more than the other five, is able to bring him to these transfixed heights.
Such power.
Who is this man? What manner of man keeps a castle in this day and age? Alma was curious to find out, but frankly, he expected someone a bit-- well-- weaker, psychologically. Alma is unable to imagine himself so torn from the world and yet still being strong. Yet the effect in this moment is deeply revealing of this man, and the force of that moment is embodied in the 'aura' that Alma feels, the visual metaphors that constitute his secret vision.
That Krauser sits alone here is important.
It reveals, to Alma, how alone Krauser does not seem.
Standing there, Alma finds himself profoundly reminded of the nomad warrior who emerged from the mist not so long ago to teach him a lesson he is still learning, someone so utterly certain of the meaningfulness of their path that they do not need to see others to know they are importantly related to the world. This man's distance, his aloof judgment of others-- Alma is confident, in this moving moment, that they do not arise from mere self-indulgent disdain, from any confusion towards or well-masked fear of the new and unknown. This man knows precisely what he is doing. This man has found his path.
This man is strong.
"...Lord Krauser."
Alma, the first to arrive, bows politely. His tone is soft and relaxed, but he knows, and does not attempt to disguise, that the eyes that meet Krauser's gaze are slightly widened. A single red-tinged blond bang obscures one of those hazel orbs, but not the admiration that must be in both. Krauser has already made a strong impression.
"I am Alma Towazu," he murmurs politely what the man surely already knows. "I am honored."
He raises his head, chest swelling faintly as he takes a deep breath.
"Tonight I will strive to make myself worthy of your invitation."
Ever near Krauser's side is Laurence BLood; he is dressed as would be expected, in a crimson and yellow ensemble much like the matador life he left behind. A long crimson cape is wrapped tightly about his left forearm, the other resting with the closed fist at his lower back. Immaculately groomed, his posture is strong and confident, every shift and movement bearing smooth premeditation. Even his leisurely breaths follow the rhythm of his body. He seemed to be genuinely appreciating the music that Krauser plays. Stepping forward, he seems to scarcely touch the ground as he comes into place at Wolfgang's right. Slightly behind, but thoroughly attentive. Some might laugh at the prospect of him being a bodyguard, let alone Krauser needing one; but such is under the mistaken impression that Krauser is in danger. No; Like rampaging bulls, Laurence strikes down the unworthy that might dare get in the way in a single stroke.
"There is no shame in proving a point..." is observed, glancing towards Igniz when he finally enters with his head raised. Yes, this is where the term 'looking down one's nose' comes from. "That power bought will never match the power one is born with." The tone is light. There's little point in talking trash, as it were. He knows that Krauser does not fight to prove anything, so merely agrees that in this case... there's no reason to hold back. But for all that, Igniz is a dangerous man. He is worthy of Krauser's wrath, and deserving of Krauser's lesson.
Alma is not. He is the type of person Laurence intends to not let lay a single finger upon the German fighter.
With a flourish he approaches the slender fighter, sweeping out a crimson rose and flinging it into the air. It slowly descends as the matador gives a deep and gracious bow, steeped in etiquette and honor. "You are wise to respect this man. For that, I shall respect you. I will be your opponent, if you would grant me the honor..." When he drew the sabre is difficult to say, but in a flash of steel the rose is severed into three parts, spilling on the ground. The weapon dances on his fingers, then vanishes back within the sheath. Petals swirl in a lazy trail with the motion, raining across his shoulders. His cape is adjusted with a flick of the wrist, billowing like silk. "I am Laurence Blood. We shall see whether you pass my test, and will be given the honor of facing him in combat."
The god of NESTS does not appreciate kings or governers, those that think that power is royal or passed down through generation to generation. That to be born into power would be the ultimate decider if one was an untouchable, or, instead, the rulers or governers of their society. Surely Krauser would not be so short sighted that he would forget such a thing?
Igniz would not, for the god of NESTS came in after his 'ally', Alma. He had let him wander ahead, Igniz carring towards his apperance. He did enter with the battlesuit tucked away, today, the bright light following him, his aura dwarfed the room, bathing it in a white light that expanded from his own personage, his holy order given light as he hovered off the ground itself, his cape and hair blowing in the absence of wind or air.
The trinkets of gold and silver, as well as the wine and dining that had been set up does not interest Igniz at the least. Of all the men he had fought, he had no data upon Krauser or Blood. This would be rectified today.
"Ah, Wolfgang Krauser," Igniz smiled, the same devilish smile that meant the same as if he was introducing himself or killing a man in cold blood. It was, if anything, a presentation. "I'm glad we could finally meet. Perhaps I shall find out if you live up to the many rumors about you!" Igniz exclaims, his lips wrapped up, a soft tone given to them as if a divine being could look any more like an angel or above a normal human. Igniz does indeed reflect the divine wonder that a man has for an otherworldly personage.
He does not even look towards Blood at first, more than an insult to the man and his skills. He is interested, but he does not, at all, seem to be introducing himself to him. Or anyone for that matter. His name is known only by those who should.
The cape beneath him floats ominously. He makes no movements, but he is ready, it seems. There was no cloak, or hesitation.
COMBATSYS: Alma has started a fight here on the right meter side.
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|-------\-------\0 Alma
COMBATSYS: Blood has joined the fight here on the left meter side.
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Blood 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Alma
COMBATSYS: Krauser has joined the fight here on the left meter side.
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Blood 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Alma
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Krauser 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Igniz has joined the fight here on the right meter side.
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Blood 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Alma
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Krauser 0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0 Igniz
Ah, Krauser is not your typical tyrant. Those within his little hamlet are under no compunction to stay, they are not terrorized by corrupt officials. They are, perhaps, one of the safest communities on Earth. Protected by their anachronistic Lord, and shielded by one of the greatest centralizations of great fighters anywhere - and arguably, the world's very finest intelligence network. Among those who need to know, the Kaiser is foremost. He knows Igniz's name, he knows much of Igniz's goals. He even knows some of his failures, and those who've been trampled underfoot in his unending grab for power, "I am a man who deals in actualities, Igniz. Rumors and legends are for those who do not know themselves, or their own limits." Alma's notably respectful entrance draws the Kaiser's dark eyes for lingering moments, a broad hand rising to brush at the end of his perfectly-groomed moustache thoughtfully. His long hair held back by an ornate circlet, any words the Strolheim Lord might have offered to the passionate youth are forestalled as Laurence steps in, speaking words that are, indeed, quite accurate. Alma is in for a great test tonight, one he is unlikely to soon forget - but then, Krauser has his own hurdles to surmount, ideals to uphold. His gaze returns to Igniz.
"You ride on your chariot as if discovery of science were akin to discovery of self. I will waste no pleasantries on you, nor brook your empty respect. I know you well enough to know you know nothing of honour, that your selfish greed would destroy us all, if you were but able." The Kaiser's eyes narrow, his body tenses, "A base thief and slaver such as you would not even have an invitation, were it not for my desire to plant my fists squarely in your imitator's visage!!!" The Lord of Strolheim charges, with acceleration unheard of from a man his size.
Hurtling forward, the Lord of Strolheim launches one leg up and around, with enough force to finish his charge without further stride, a booted heel axeing in harshly, squarely for Igniz's pretty face, "A /million/ like you have been struck down throughout history, the only joy I take in this is to do it with my own hands!!"
It appears that worthiness is, indeed, in demand.
Alma's gaze fixes upon Blood, the younger man's eyes soft and unassuming yet, even after long seconds pass, unblinking. Mild yet instrutible, the YFCC vice-president regards his unknown adversary very thoughtfully, his only obviously detectable emotion a very deliberate caution. Whatever Alma is considering, he is consumed enough by it that he does not even immediately react to the approach of his erstwhile teammate, that man who is the god to his angel.
That man-- that hateful man.
Yet there is nothing hateful about the silent gaze that Alma then turns upon him, looking upon his potential nemesis with the same mellow calm as he brought to the others. They have not seen each other since their fateful duel, yet-- whatever wounds Alma may have suffered during that clash of powers and ideals seem to have not only healed, but healed over with a tougher skin. Alma may seem slightly different, even if Igniz does not deign to look directly upon him. The hint of tension that was exploited to cause Alma to cast aside his dignity, that undermined his otherwise formidable faith-- it seems, for now at least, somehow--
"Master Igniz."
Resolved.
Alma's confession to and contest against K' during the brief absence he was allowed to take from the castle to deal wtih YFCC business, though most likely unknown to anyone but the two themselves, has been more than a catharsis; but whatever he has learned or come to terms with, the relevant fact is that Alma seems as determined as passionate as ever, and neither does he seem to be pretending his ally is anyone other than he is. That sincere and clear-eyed gaze could not mean anything less.
Briefly, Alma entertains the notion of mentioning tactics, a quiet admission that he doubts he will be able to be much help with the amount of effort he'll have to put into fighting this Laurence, that if anyone is going to be watching any backs they must both we doing so simultaneously. But he quickly concludes this will not be necessary. Igniz is a calculating man made more so by his tricks. He will know what to do. Alma will just put himself forward-- and keep his eyes open.
"Very well."
Alma turns back to the sword-wielding man, stepping forward and inclining his head once more in a gesture of respect. His feet spread slightly, his posture straightens and limbs loosen, but he does not adjust his stance much-- only the faintest of swaying hints that Alma is feeling out for a rhythm few others can hear, a beat that echoes for an oft-unused sense.
"Let us see," he murmurs, "who is tested, Mr. Blood."
He lunges.
Radiance erupts behind him, a vibrant indication of his readiness as he streaks forward, blurring equally from speed and luminesence. His right hand is soon engulfed in his recognizable glittering flames, surreal yet convincing white soulfire streaked with cherry-blossom pink and royal indigo, but there are more heavenly hints; a golden hue at the fringes, a rose tint to the afterimages. Something regal and magnificent is awakening within him, struggling to be born from the sea of flame that burns within his breast.
"Hahh!"
He strikes, and brings a lance of light to match that sword.
COMBATSYS: Alma successfully hits Blood with Self Expression.
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Blood 0/-------/-----==|=------\-------\0 Alma
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Krauser 0/-------/---====|=------\-------\0 Igniz
Ah... Krauser is passionate today. He may be immune to the aura that the stylized god emits, but Laurence feels it. Igniz is a man of strong presence if nothing else, seeming to battle Krauser's own within even the massive confines of this area. The kind who can shape those around him with the touch of his voice, instead of his hand. One who gave himself the power to back up his words. An olive branch and a sword... Dangerous. Moreso then Laurence wanted to believe, in all honesty. But nothing betrays his inner thoughts, and he does even less then Krauser. Giving him barely a glance, showing as if he had not expected the man to attempt conversation. Alma is his companion this evening, and one he will enjoy thoroughly. He finds that he likes the man, for a reason he cannot immediately place. This is a large distance from respect, however. That has to be earned with blood and pain.
"You are rather confident... or... is it arrogance?" Blood tilts his head at the latter, staring intently himself. Such a strong spirit, that much is undeniable. The cape slithers up, interposed between the pair like some manner of shield. It is flicked, attempting to disorient as he darts to the side. But it's insufficient; he's struck within the chest, and eyes widen with a grunt of pain as he staggers backwards. A deep breath follows, and his composure returns. "Interesting." he offers. Then his stance twists, before erupting forward in a dirge of motion. He spirals madly in the air, perfectly horizontal. Truly, if anyone ever saw the wrath of Vega at it's maximum, it's much the same motion. The drilling Laurence aims to crash into Alma's chest, intending to send him flying backwards as one foot lightly extends, dissipating his own kinetic force with subtle ease and another flip of the cape.
COMBATSYS: Krauser successfully hits Igniz with Leg Tomahawk.
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Blood 0/-------/-----==|=------\-------\0 Alma
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Krauser 0/-------/--=====|===----\-------\0 Igniz
The god of NESTS comes, his science is a powerful thing. He is sure of himself, that is entirely sure. Strong, powerful, calculating. The god of NESTS is not something you take lightly. But, ah, as Krauser shows, that he is not to be taken lightly either. The force that the man launches at Igniz is extremely precise. Crashing into the god of NESTS as if he was not as solid as he had through. The booted heel axekick hits square in the chest, the forcefield failing to materialize in time as Krauser fires himself forward.
Igniz is thrust backwards, his figure driven back by Krauser's own strength. He is now on the defensive, his armor cracked by the powerful assault. He's surprised, surely, that the main was so driven to strike. It was almost impeccable how strong Krauser truely was.
In the end, this strength may be the very thing that defeats him. Igniz, god of NESTS, has only a moment to react, and from there. Igniz stands, unmoved as he looks upon Krauser.
"Your words are rather kind, Krauser." Igniz exclaims, thrust backwards by Krauser's impecable strength. But it is not the only thing that Igniz pays attention to. No, even Krauser himself becomes some that Igniz is entirely interesting about.
No movement is made by the god of NESTS. Nothing. But his eyes move more than ever.
COMBATSYS: Igniz calculates his next move.
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Blood 0/-------/-----==|=------\-------\0 Alma
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Krauser 0/-------/--=====|===----\-------\0 Igniz
"You strive to understand, dissect my style?" Krauser's lips smirk as Igniz is driven back, as the battle-suited tyrant's gaze gives his intent away. The sweeping scans of his technological monstrosity setting the hair on Krauser's neck on end. The Kaiser steps forward, perhaps only a few kilos shy of rumbling the stone itself with the simple, forcefully efficient motion, "You do not have the /tools/, you fool!" The Lord of Strolheim exclaims, "You are missing the /key/ component to understanding it at all. You have cut out the very HEART." The tirade does not abate, unassuaged by Igniz's cool retort. Wolfgang Krauser does not expect the overlord of NESTS to listen, to heed, or to learn.... only to take what he can of the Kaiser's formidable strength, and seek to use it to his own ends. Without comprehension of where the current Lord of the castle /came/ upon his great power... or what Wolfgang has already done with it, unseating his own despot of a forbear, forming an empire in the shadows that few even understand, but even Geese Howard fears.
"I should tear. yours. OUT!" Krauser closes the distance unflinchingly, throwing his massive frame forward and coiling a massive, treetrunk arm backwards. Muscles flex, sinew strains, and with a force that even the air itself rushes to avoid, that fist lashes forward - and just as suddenly, opens and drops just a hair lower, perhaps under the inevitable defense. His target? Igniz's throat. His meaty hand would clench around, tightly, but only for an instant....
The real threat comes in low, where it's always been from the moment he began his rush. One knee rises, with sharpness that defies the finest aged cheddar, careening for the overlord's ribcage.
COMBATSYS: Blood successfully hits Alma with Bloody Spin.
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Blood 0/-------/---====|=====--\-------\0 Alma
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Krauser 1/------=/=======|===----\-------\0 Igniz
What does that cloak conceal?
Drawn in by his own flames, Alma will not be confounded by Blood's agility. No piece of cloth that obscure the aura that blazes like a beacon, tempting him with its ready target. Yet when the man swiftly counter-attacks, the Hiten-Ryu adapter finds his advantage quickly dissipate. Being able to readily detect violent intent is a consistent asset, but a vague one, and he finds himself forced to rely more completely on his eyes than he is used to. Grimacing slightly, Alma's hands whorl fluidly to form a flexible guard within which to entrap the startling attack; though unable to determine precisely where it's aiming towards, he can sense Blood's vulnerability in spite of his dexterity, and plans to sweep the man as soon as he lands.
This becomes impossible.
"Rrngh!"
Alma catches only cloak, the drilling attack striking him directly and sending him stumbling back, out of range for any immediate follow-up and thus unable to take advantage of whatever weakness he might have exploited. Yet his instincts do not fade when foiled. Even in the midst of recovery, Alma is striking back in an although different form, his passion as unrelenting as ever.
Gracefully allowing himself to sway back rather than trip over his own feet trying to maintain his ground, Alma's right hand casts out smoothly for balance-- and to simultaneously unleash a darting blast of swirling power, a cresting wave aiming to sneak through Blood's equally fluid defenses and trip up the obvious dexterous man's movements once more.
COMBATSYS: Blood blocks Alma's Sacred Wave.
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Blood 0/-------/--=====|======-\-------\0 Alma
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Krauser 1/------=/=======|===----\-------\0 Igniz
Blood raises languidly, shoulders lifting and falling as he resumes a nearly liquid stance. Alma would find his violent intent hard to read; he is a predator, endlessly patient, who dances, wears down, cajoles. All of his killing urge remains carefully welled up, like a growing bomb prepared to detonate. But when, is the question? All Alma could easily sense from the onset of an attack was that such is not it. "You move well. But not well enough." Blood offers. He lifts his cape, and flicks it rather hard. The sweeping fabric catches his psionic flame, disrupting it so that it pafts harmlessly upon his opposite shoulder. Endless finesse, no waste of motion or strength. He brings up his cape, clapping his hands sharply together.
"Ole!"
Then he is rushing forward, low to the ground. But suddenly stops, just beyond a range that might be predicted. And he laughs, deep and merriful, while swirling around his cape in a manic fashion. It is like a rotorblade, the wind buffeting the surroundings and leaving only a crimson blur of dense fabric, attempting to repeatedly pelt against Alma and send him stumbling backwards. Thereafter he snaps it down, darting away in an attempt to regain some distance while leaving his guard optimal, for both evasion or deflection. He shrouds himself well, in both mind and body...
COMBATSYS: Igniz dodges Krauser's Medium Kick.
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Blood 0/-------/---====|======-\-------\0 Alma
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Krauser 1/------=/=======|===----\-------\0 Igniz
Igniz can see that his opponent is skilled. How he moves. How he holds himself. His words are like swords that pierce into the very heart of mortal men, but Igniz is incapable of feeling said swords. They are brittle, rusting at the ends as they aim to hold themselves in the chest of the god. They die only by his presence.
The technological advantage that Igniz holds upon the other fighters is impressively startling. Even as Krauser moves Igniz examines his every heartbeat, the tensing of his muscles. Krauser's own abilities are quite hard to conceal to the man of many names, holding only Overlord dear.
"I do not strive it. I can see it all." Igniz exclaims. It is true, to a point. Igniz can see much as he looks. There is no doubt of this at all as Krauser comes.
"A disection? I have done many," Igniz exclaims, his figure moving, lifting off even as Krauser's hand fires forwards. Igniz can see the muscles preparing in the man's leg. The sartorius, the rectus femoris. All pulling the leg upwards towards Igniz. But the god of NESTS swivels about, the kick only striking out towards the ground instead of a ribcage, perhaps even stomping the sharp cheese he had prepared.
"But I am willing to do a dissection upon you. You hold something that I cannot see. Perhaps it is the heart? I will see in time, will I not?" Igniz exclaims, energy swelling about his palm as his hand raises, his had flexing to grasp the power at all, a monsterous ball of perfect white chi sent hurling across the ground. A blaring white ball immidiately out of view, accelerating just as one notices. And this one is Krauser.
COMBATSYS: Krauser endures Igniz's Divine Arrow - Ground.
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Blood 0/-------/---====|======-\-------\0 Alma
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Krauser 1/--=====/=======|====---\-------\0 Igniz
Many dissections. Many lives. Many fighters who had /earned/ their place in the world, not sucked it from others. Krauser is a broiling oven, elements running a fervent red, veins on his neck all but popping out as the bonecrushing knee is delivered - to thin air, "You are blinded..." Krauser retorts, finally getting the rise, the confirmations he was looking for out of Igniz. This is exactly the man he invited here, this... mad scientist, "DECEIVED BY THE DELUSIONS OF EYES THAT ARE NOT EVEN YOUR OWN!!!" He /roars/. There is no other word for it. The light boils, and Krauser slams chest-first into it. It /hurts/. But he barely slows. The shockwave explodes over him, rushes around him, every muscle in his body tensing, his broad jaw clenching. He falters only a half-step, and then the next comes.... just as fast as the first. A knee bends, and the Titan is airborne.
A grace that belies his mass carries the Kaiser upwards, through the dissipating blast, past the pain... the impact seems to /fuel/ him, accelerating right back down the line.
It's simple, really. Like using the fire of an anti-aircraft battery to choose a target, Igniz has painted himself in the night shadowed room. A knee leads, then the other, seeking to quite literally blast Igniz back, with Krauser himself as the projectile. It's powerfully symbolic, if one takes their eyes off their meters and guages long enough to ponder it. He reiterates, in a similarly mighty bellow, "You are not properly /EQUIPPED/!"
COMBATSYS: Alma fails to interrupt Bloody Mixer from Blood with Divine Intervention EX.
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Blood 0/-------/-======|=======\-------\1 Alma
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Krauser 1/---====/=======|====---\-------\0 Igniz
Not well enough.
Alma stares with furrowed brow at his dancing foe, faced with an opponent with a superior sense of rhythm and timing, unable to utilize his own preternatural awareness to its fullest extent. The swirling cloak taunts him as it would a bull, provokes him with the momentum he himself would attain, but he refuses to be fazed. He strains with all his ability to see /through/ it, to grasp the man behind it with his training and intuition-- and strike.
If he cannot break through his dance, he cannot win.
Caught up in his own efforts, a white flame is kindled within his hand as though of its own volition, Alma's eyes never leaving the fluid form of his adversary. He can tell that this man will slip away if not struck immediately, and he will not allow that. That rippling cloth emerges toward him, and his eyes seek to parse the ripples, to find where the man is and where he is not.
He lunges in, thinking he is right.
The pain tells him he is wrong.
"Gghh!"
The flame flickers and dies in his hand as this time Alma is sent crashing back, unbalanced by his poorly timed counter-assault while Blood fades back unharmed. Alma quickly rolls to his feet, and little time is spent vulnerable, but his still-calm visage is belied by the intensity in his gaze. There is no frustration, no irritation--
Only a mind churning at its greatest speed.
What is the key?
Blood maneuvers himself towards Alma, slowly, gracefully, each step measured. There is no bob to him, he might see; it is truly as if the man is gliding across the surface of the ground. The only distinct movement, thusly, is from that crimson cape. It billows and swirls as if caught in the same hurricane as Igniz's hair, screaming for attention and forcing many opponents to continually register it. Given he's just proven what a threat the simple cloth can be, that is not a waste of time entirely. "Have you found it yet? The weakness to my style?" It seems his own deduction and insights are no less then Alma's. "You will be dead upon the ground before you can grasp it! Even were your eyes able to see, your body could not move to take advantage of me...!"
He then slithers forward, and lifts up his cape. The crimson fabric completely obscures Blood's body from Alma's eyes; he could be doing anything behind it, even pretzeling himself naked around a block of wood. But he whips it out towards the other man's face, trying to force a flinch. A heartbeat later his sabre screams through the air, attempting to sink it within Alma's chest. Regardless of success he would immediately sheath it and start a hard, quick circle about the other man, to force him to pivot uncomfortably and disrupt his stance unless he wished his back exposed...
COMBATSYS: Igniz fails to counter Knee Smasher from Krauser with Void Genocide.
# Disabling hit! #
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Blood 0/-------/-======|=======\-------\1 Alma
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Krauser 1/-======/=======|=======\-------\0 Igniz
Igniz finds himself unable to move fast enough. Krauser's half witted attempt to throw himself through the assault worked. He collides with Igniz, the strength that drives him through, even as the god of NESTS moves to counter his action with a simple, defining blast of white chi. All he had thought of, all he had prepared for, destroyed in an instant. A second that he could not have prepared.
Krauser blasts through, throwing Igniz backwards with a powerful knee strike, aimed at sending the god of NESTS towards the floor. But he does not stay there, instead, slowly rising as his eyes look upon Krauser.
"You say those words, but do you not see me?" Igniz exclaims, "I am able. I am unstoppable. You dare tell a god otherwise?" Igniz smiles, a soft laugh coming out of his badly beaten armor and bloody figure.
"You have only begun to see my true power. In time, you will come to understand what you face. And then you will fear it."
Igniz arises, and Krauser lands. In all things, there is balance. The Lord of Strolheim lifts a hand once more, stroking his clean-shaven chin pensively, moustache quivering ever so slightly with a barely-restrained smirk, "Fear /you/?" the Kaiser muses, "You rave like a madman. A desperate maniac, bereft of even the wisdom to look down and see the fall that inevitably awaits him. A god." The anachronistic Titan laughs outright at that, throwing his head back with a fervent round of belly-shaking laughter, the shaking of a perfect sixpack of fine German lager, "'Your' power is only what you've scavenged, and the only reason your little outfit still exists is because those you have deceived have yet to rise up... and destroy you." A momentary pause, as the Kaiser's eyes narrow, and he amends too casually, "And because your desperate climb continues to amuse me. .... and breed strong will in those capable of using it." Everyone /but/ Igniz, in Krauser's estimation. Yes, the battlesuited overlord is strong. Nearly as strong as Krauser himself.
Clearly, that doesn't change the equation even one little bit for the Lord of this castle, "I understand every step you take, every clone you make, every ridiculous experiment you initiate to try to correct that which is fundamentally flawed in /yourself/. It is you who does not understand. And it is you who will know fear. You who will know pain."
Krauser's smile becomes cruel, certain, spiteful, "And then you will die."
COMBATSYS: Krauser calculates his next move.
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Blood 0/-------/-======|=======\-------\1 Alma
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Krauser 1/-======/=======|=======\-------\0 Igniz
COMBATSYS: Alma blocks Blood's Medium Strike.
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Blood 0/-------/-======|=======\==-----\1 Alma
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Krauser 1/-======/=======|=======\-------\0 Igniz
"Nngh..."
No fighter can go into a battle truly believing that their opponent is the stronger. To do so is to pre-emptively sabotage one's own efforts. Alma thus cannot accept Blood's words, the taunting words unable to touch him as they might a prouder warrior. He dismisses them out of hand. He must.
But they might be true.
There is no obvious response to the challenge presented to him. He feels outmatched in both timing and rhythm, and worse, this fencer seems acutely aware of the advantage as well, and thus has not yet bothered to overextend himself into more forceful strikes. He doesn't need to. Already, Alma can tell he's being worn down.
His features never shift. He is absorbed in the issue at hand. But the unceasing intensity in his eyes, the inward churning he sadly cannot disguise, should make one thing obvious to his opponent: Alma doesn't have a plan yet.
'And then you will die.'
He blinks.
Krauser's words have not gone unheard; Alma soaks them in. He doesn't have time to be impressed, but he is. Is this not what Alma himself tried to tell Igniz, yet failed to deliver in his weakness? The young man does not need to distract himself from his difficult battle here. There is present here a master of dignity more formidable than Alma himself. The youngest fighter already has learned one thing: that he has a lot to learn about conviction from Krauser.
...Conviction.
Alma's eyes widen, then narrow, as the sword comes toward him.
Yes-- that's it.
If Blood won't remove his cloak, then...
Eyes blazing, Alma lunges directly into the attack, with a seeming heedlessness totally unprecedented given his previous thoughtful behavior.
...he will unveil /his/ true self.
"Insignificant!"
Alma, hitherto silent, gazes unflinchingly into Blood's eyes-- as the point of the sword sinks directly into Alma's hand, piercing through the web of bone between his fingers cleanly until the very hilt rests against his palm.
"You threaten me with death?"
The words are soft, simple. There is no anger or indignation to him. But that raw intensity is shockingly transformed. No longer is it heated by the friction of the grinding gears within his mind. This light of his, this iron light--
"Please be serious."
These are the flames of fury distilled.
He will break Blood's rhythm with his very soul.
The tremendous agony melts away in the face of Alma's faith, and he twists, seeking to control. He will gracefully sweep his hand out and free it from the blade of the sword almost immediately, but not before he has sought to stagger the matador by misdirecting his own weapon-- and pushed him into the path of a quick and fierce sweep kick, seeking to cut short Blood's circling before it even begin.
Pain... it's merely a tool to aid the body.
Alma dispenses with it.
COMBATSYS: Blood dodges Alma's Light Kick.
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Blood 0/-------/-======|=======\==-----\1 Alma
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Krauser 1/-======/=======|=======\-------\0 Igniz
Well, Blood can go into a fight thinking someone is weaker. However, this does not truly affect his competency. This is actually his strength. He goes in, expecting weakness. Expecting failure. Expecting them to be played. He dances with them, manipulates them into a killing thrust. Every bull he ever killed, he went into knowing he would kill it. And every fight he ever won, he went into knowing he would have them bleeding at his feet. Arrogance, certainly, yet the kind of arrogance that strengthens one in body and mind....
"Focus on me, boy. Not him. Whether you are allowed to be in his presence, I am the holder of that key!" The shift in Alma's style is appreciated, in actuality. He was banging on a door that was locked. Laurence Blood would not be dissected and taken advantage of. But fighting with all his heart? That gave him a true chance. Those eyes are met, intense and calculating, yet almost lighthearted. A cruelty to that laughter, assuredly, but he is not unbending steel. "I never threatened you with anything..." Blood answers. "You will die if you are weak, mayhaps. I will not pull back my blade."
The weapon is violently yanked free, and gives him no pause. His free hand whisks up the cape, gently flowing it over Alma's foot. The same careful application of force. Not a feather's ounce more then needed, not a twitch of muscle further then required. It is a dance, as he gently twirls about, feet shuffling across the floor. Rippling crimson fills Alma's vision, then nothing. Blood is behind, and with him a new wall of steel.
He starts lashing out, with a force that had prior not been shown. His sabre sings, striking from shoulder to hip, then lifting it up to attack the other, creating an 'X'. Yet he does not stop at one. Like a fencer, his ankles come together and he drives forward, his power coming from his speed, the force of his blade from his precision. The air howls, weapon seeming to melt into liquid that is slow to keep up. Four series are done before he leaps back, weapon gone anew.
Krauser has one. There is no other way to put it! Igniz has been bested by the best. Even as he arises, Krauser aims to not throw his goal ahead, but stand, rather, await Igniz to make his move. Igniz smiles, looking up towards him. Ah, he my be a mad man. He had created human life, abused it, used it and even destroyed lives for his cause.
He certaintly qualifies for it.
"Scavanged? I'm afraid It's much more than that." Igniz exclaims, looking towards Krauser as such. Ah, his eyes reflect the same light that he does. He has used it as well. What a coincidence for Igniz to find such a man.
"You think I would have created what I have, rather than be given it makes me a pauper instead of a prince? I am a god, destined. I was not born into your strength as you were! And now, when I finally attain my divine herritage, I am told by one who claims my will that I am not?" Igniz smiles softly, a soft chuckle escaping his lips.
Chi appears in his hand, summoned by mere will. "You... Krauser, disgust me. Look at yourself. You are old, senile. You will die. And when you do, I will still be here. Do you understand?" The god of NESTS announces, holding the weapon out towards Krauser, and then, simply tossing it forward. A bolt of raw chi, searing through the air towards the man in question. It pierces everything so delightfully. Even Krauser itself.
Through for some reason, Igniz is unable to draw his full strength. There is something that Krauser had done. And Igniz, thoughtfully, Ignores it. Continuing on instead. To show weakness would be fatal.
COMBATSYS: Igniz successfully hits Krauser with Divine Arrow - Air.
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Blood 0/-------/-======|=======\==-----\1 Alma
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Krauser 2/<<<<<<</<<<<<<<|=======\-------\0 Igniz
"That born on the backs of others is /stolen/ not created, you have done nothing but harness what others have honed!" Krauser retorts, unswayed by Igniz's insistance on the rightness of his cause. The Kaiser's eyes narrow, his broad brow furrows, and he draws a deep breath as the chi coalesces once more, as Igniz summons up his strength. But he can feel it - struggling to fight past the pain, struggling to forge his technologically enhanced will into something meaningful. It's the sense a predator gets when the hunt is nearing the end, that feeling of certain triumph... but things are never as certain as they appear. The blast washes over him, and this time, Krauser's attempt to simply muscle /through/ it throws him back a step, and then another.
"You think this was /given/?" Again, the Kaiser forces out a laugh, the pain ebbing as it sounds. And then he's in motion, hurling forward, "You think we are just /born/ this strong, you FOOL?!?" WHAM. A booted foot falls. WHAM. Its partner accelerates him. Beyond fury, beyond conviction... for Krauser there is no other way.
"True warriors ASCEND through force of WILL, through efforts you were too weak to exert, questions you were too pathetic to ask of yourself!!!" WHAM. WHAM. WHAM. It's a bass drum crescendo that will be echoed on Igniz's very being, if the Kaiser has his way. He charges the last span led by one gigantic, meaty fist, seeking to crash it solidly into Igniz's /face/.
From there the concerto would transition into a decidedly allegro movement, as strike after strike would be rained harshly on Igniz. Fists, knees, elbows, anything to drive him violently, bloodily, brutally back into the stoney wall of the Atrium.
Krauser would not stop there, oh no: his intent is to batter Igniz back to where there is no retreat, and just keep smashing him, crushing him into the ungiving stone, until his skull would finally be bounced off the uneven rock with a heave of both grasping, ire-fueled hands, "YOU ARE NOTHING BUT A HOLLOW LIE!!!"
COMBATSYS: Blood successfully hits Alma with Bloody Sabre.
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Blood 1/-------/=======|>>>>>>>\>>>>>>>\2 Alma
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Krauser 0/-------/-----==|=======\-------\0 Igniz
A swirling blade that seems to split into several; a whirling cloak that obscures all. Alma, unable to penetrate them at this juncture, can only disregard them. Eyes slightly widened as though forced open by the light massing there, the fighting model plunges forth once more-- not into a breach, but in an effort to create one.
He cannot fully weather such might. Though he tries to simply push through as heedlessly as before, he cannot help but flinch and be driven back by the unexpectedly powerful barrage of blows. Still, he perserveres, managing to avoid being eviscerated but otherwise sacrificing a possibly already hopeless defense for that edge he has not yet grasped. His fine shirt is torn, stained, and ruined, cleaved half away by the deep cuts that now mar his torso; pushing back against the swift blade, he heedlessly tears away the remnants of that fragmented garment-- and surges forward, bloodied, as the matador seeks once more to retreat.
Not this time.
Alma's eyes glow like freshly forged steel.
He won't escape this time.
Power surges into his fist, a fist that rushes not toward his adversary but toward the ground. Blood is nimble, to be certain, but if anything is unexpected this may be: a cascading light that silently enters the ground, a falling hush as though the energy had been cast aside, a sudden bright zig-zag of that power then traveling to his feet--
And an eruption, a sworling geyser of radiant Soul Power, condensed flames seeking to rise up and consume Laurence Blood utterly.
COMBATSYS: Blood interrupts Full Confession from Alma with Sabre Dance.
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Blood 0/-------/-----==|=======\======-\1 Alma
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Krauser 0/-------/-----==|=======\-------\0 Igniz
"Are you still able to stand...? Impressive. Your will is one that would flourish in Strolheim. Consider this my blessing..." Again he pulls out his sword, premeditating his intended assault. The world seems to slow as Alma summons up a tremendous amount of power. He moves forward, the same casual movement that he exhibited at the onset. Smiling still, roguish and knowing. The world erupts in psionic energy, the flash of light consuming him. He vanishes, for a heartbeat.
Then he cuts through it.
The energy violently dissipates, and a ragged cut erupts across Alma's torso. "Let us see how you weather this..."
What happened before was a gust. This is a typhoon. He seems to have four swords, a feat those with twice his weapons might not be able to mimic. The ground is gouged deep, the very air seems to be sliced and filled with an angry collapsing vaccuum, as he tears his weapon brutally into the other man. Slashes that could hack the limbs off lesser men like a machete might take down leaves, and it seems to last an eternity. Twenty. Twenty blows, before he slips past Alma and once more stands back to back, flicking an almost beautiful splatter of crimson blood upon the gouged and ruined floor.
"Ole." he states again, sheathing it. "The fight is mine."
COMBATSYS: Igniz fails to counter Unlimited Desire EX from Krauser with Nega Genesis.
- Power fail! -
*KNOCKED AWAY*
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Blood 0/-------/-----==|=======\======-\1 Alma
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Krauser 0/-------/-----==|=======\==-----\1 Igniz
Igniz stands, even as the bolt of power drives itself into the chest of Krauser. It sends him back, just enough for Igniz to see what is coming. Igniz will not simply allow Krauser to walk away the victor of this. Even as Krauser thrusts himself out, it's entirely too hard to imagine that Krauser would be able to topple the god of NESTS so easily.
But he comes, and he attempts. Igniz resists with all his might. "I do not think it was given. That would be foolished." Igniz exclaims, "I have earned it." Igniz announces, his power almost maliable, the stolen, infused aura dancing around him as he brings it full swing. Krauser has yet to use anything save for his bare fists against him. And Igniz, god of NESTS, has yet to do anything but allow Krauser to go on unmolested. Now it all comes down to a single, bloody end.
A defining moment as Krauser comes to batter him.
But it isn't enough. Kauser powers forward, thrusting Igniz towards the ground. The powerful strikes continuing. Over and over and over. Destroyed terribly by Krauser in a movement that could not simply be described as anything but brutal. Igniz is destroyed, plain and simple. His body is broken, but he smiles yet still.
"Aha! Aha I see it! You think that this is over... Hahaha." Igniz exclaim. Oh, oh. It almost is. But not for the one you think.
It takes a special kind of man to laugh in the face of being beaten bloody into a castle wall. In the private abode of one who, by his own admission, would just assume kill said man. Someone who, by all appearances, has the power and will to make just that happen. Most would say it's a testament to the truth of the Kaiser's initial assertions, the true madness and folly of Igniz's path. Or perhaps the undeniable power and skill (if not in the traditional sense as most on such a level) truly does represent a new and insidious threat that the Lord of Strolheim fails to properly assess. He has, after all, been known to make mistakes. For the moment, however, he towers over the broken frame of the bloodied blonde battlesuited tyrant, and flexes one arm up to his side, "It would only be over if I killed you, here and now. But I brought you here only for a taste, to show you.... to offer just a little bite of reality, something you.." he leans forward, smiling that same dark, certain smile, "can no longer even stomach. Your own shortcomings will be your undoing, Igniz. A better undoing than I could ever provide by drawing what brains you have out through your mouth." He opens one palm, and a crackling, arcing surge of red-white energy burns from fingertip to fingertip, growing in his grip, his first show of /anything/ aside from raw physical prowess. It burns bright, brighter, crackles with intensity that matches Igniz himself, with all his mighty augmentations and technologies, "To think you could have been the warrior you /wish/ you were!" He shoves the arcing sphere forward, seeking to place the brightly burning, shearing globe squarely in the recovering Igniz's face... and then follow it with a thrust of his other hand, one which only amplifies, redoubles the sphere, an attempt to grind the overlord of NESTS back into the wall in a brilliant explosion of rampant energy, summoned forth as if it were second nature.
Which, of course, it is at this point in Krauser's life. His own burning will, erupting in an attempt at punctuating his little lesson. .... again, quite brutally.
Incredible.
"...hnn... ghhk..."
The fight is his.
Alma Towazu stands transfixed, sightless eyes gazing at nothing. His body is wreathed in cuts, his blood splattered in an aesthetically stirring arc about him. That he keeps his footing somehow through that storm of slashes, after Laurence Blood slips past and stands poised and triumphant, seems only a function of his forgetting to fall. There is no strength left in the young man's body.
To his credit, there is no disbelief in the young man's eyes-- only a profound respect, gracefully given, slips into the void left once his world spun out of control and became little more than a torrent of pain. With his body torn and his power effortlessly quashed, his mind still reeling from the aftershocks of Blood's sharp and efficient defense, Alma can only think of one thing: that he has been fairly outmatched.
Perhaps it is a shame that this is so, since he has not been able to witness the damage Igniz has been taking-- but Alma's not the sort of man to derive any satisfaction from that anyway.
As it is, he can only be impressed with what Strolheim has to offer.
Unable to speak, his gaze will have to be enough.
Yet even as the waking world begins to release its hold on him, Alma Towazu's arm begins to raise slowly as though of its own accord. He is looking in Blood's direction, yet his eyes do not seem to focus on anything; nevertheless, that hand drifts upward, a single index finger gradually unfurling.
Duty is integral to his dignity, and honor demands...
That he reach out, one last time...
COMBATSYS: Alma can no longer fight.
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Blood 0/-------/-----==|=======\==-----\1 Igniz
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Krauser 0/-------/------=|
COMBATSYS: Blood just-defends Alma's Absolution!
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Blood 0/-------/-----==|=======\==-----\1 Igniz
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Krauser 0/-------/------=|
Blood turns around, to face Alma openly. He then reaches out his free hand, and grasps his wrist. The finger is a scant inch from making contact. "Do not embarress yourself, my friend. You have lost. Such acts of desperation are unbecoming." He then simply throws it down, and allows the man to fall. As casual as that; even in the very end of ends, he wastes nothing. Then he turns towards Krauser, as he begins to prepare the crippling dual onslaught. "Enough of these games." He looms forward, coming into step beside the massive man as the onslaught of chi rushes forward. Darting back to balance on one foot, he then moves like lightning; cape seeming to manifest in a rippling blade of it's own, as his sabre takes point. Moving to impale Igniz in the chest with all his might, then like a darting cat leap away before the double balls make contact. His own movement is more symbollic then neccesary; Strolheim is victorious, and they fight as one. There is no individual pride here, in the end...
COMBATSYS: Blood successfully hits Igniz with Bloody Cutter.
- Power hit! -
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Blood 0/-------/--=====|=======\====---\1 Igniz
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Krauser 0/-------/------=|
COMBATSYS: Igniz fails to interrupt Double Blitz Ball from Krauser with Brutal God Project+.
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Blood 0/-------/--=====|=======\======-\1 Igniz
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Krauser 0/-------/---====|
COMBATSYS: Igniz can no longer fight. Is this the end of lovable Igniz?
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Blood 0/-------/--=====|
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Krauser 0/-------/---====|
Igniz can hear Krauser. He has heard the whole 'You're terrible, I'm better' a lot in his life. But even this time it seems that it has about the same effect as it did many times ago.
"It is unfortunate that you are wrong about it all, Krauser." Igniz exclaims, looking up towards the leader of Strolheim with a passive view.
But the god of NESTS could not come back. Through all his trials and tribulations, the god of NESTS did not have the skills to go on. Even with Krauser's own strength behind it all, and Igniz's determinations, Blood's triumph is more than just anything, thrusting all his mighty directly into the chest of Igniz. And it connects powerfully. Igniz is not able to do anything at all. It had seemed that, in Krauser's house, he is king, and without Igniz's data, he is defeated.
The god of NESTS is impaled. Thrusting forward still after being impalled he aims to thrust towards Krauser, through his strike and towards him.
But he is not even allowed that. The balls of chi thrust Igniz backwards, scatterd about and burried underneath the rubble he falls. He is wounded, and simply falls unconscious for the first time in many years.
Foxy and Diana would appear in moments to take him away. There is no doubt.
COMBATSYS: Blood has left the fight here.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Krauser 0/-------/---====|
COMBATSYS: Krauser has ended the fight here.
Log created on 18:59:03 11/17/2008 by Krauser, and last modified on 13:46:32 11/20/2008.