Description: Hard time in the dog pound, as the rugged Roland faces off against the hard-chargin' Brett, in a battle that's sure to send people howling. (Draw Match)
The Jiro Kasagi Memorial Dog Pound; whoever named it that is unknown, but they win in Roland's book. In theory, anyway. In practice, a round red ring in the middle of multiple cages of barking, yowling animals is hardly the best of situations. He's only been here a couple minutes, and Roland's shoulders are already hunched in aggravation, adjusting the hat atop his head. "Goddamn, shut up!" He kicks a nearby cage, causing a yelp. One of the staff politely tells him not to do that, as the myriad cameras adjust and shift the lighting in the last moments. They could of at least had them fight somewhere without all the mongrels in sight...
Someone doesn't mind the barking, unlike Roland. A small smile crosses Brett's face, ignoring the League cameraman and the small crowd that gathered to watch the fight. He likes dogs, after all. Even the noisy kind. He frowns at the yelp he hears, but manages to ignore it for the most part. Staff seems to have it in hand, after all.
For Brett, he just decides to focus, settling in and closing his eyes as he stands on his 'side' of the ring. Idly, he taps at the floor, before one sharper whack on the floor with the stick. "Ready." Leveling his stick, he sinks into a stance, eying Roland from across the way under his helmet. "Are you?"
COMBATSYS: Brett has started a fight here.
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Brett 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Roland has joined the fight here.
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Roland 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Brett
"Am I? Nah, not yet." Roland offers, holding up a hand towards Brett in a placating manner. "I needa get a quick drink... s'hot in here, ain't it?" It is, although not so much that it should really be inhibitive to fighting. He strides towards Brett, although with a small smile and loose stance, diverting to the side; with the apparent intent of passing him to get his beverage. "Got it right over th--SHAZAM!" Suddenly Roland lunges forward, yanking out his trusty half-drank bottle of gin. And sweeping out his arm, attempting to shatter it right across Brett's face! ...well, if he wants a fair fight, he's REALLY against the wrong guy.
COMBATSYS: Brett endures Roland's Random Weapon.
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Roland 0/-------/-------|==-----\-------\0 Brett
Well, that was unexpected. Perhaps Brett is just still too trusting, even in 'game mode'. He just wasn't expecting the bottle smashed over his head like that.
Not that it fazes Brett. It hurts, and is definitely going to show it's effects later. But in the immediate, it only serves as a bit of a wake up to Brett. "NGHhh...." Enough of a wake up that he just rolls with the way his body reels after the bottle shatters and cuts up his face. And it just so happens to send his body turning in a way that lets him sweep his stick up high, blade first, straight toward Roland's face. What goes around, and all that jazz.
COMBATSYS: Roland blocks Brett's Power Strike.
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Roland 0/-------/------=|===----\-------\0 Brett
Damn. He didn't expect that. Brett's a hell of a resilient man, which is definitely lodged into the back of his brain. The people he can think of that can shrug off a bottle to the face are rather low, after all. A rasp of steel is heard as he shifts out one of his forearm blades, catching the center of the blade, other arm braced behind. Despite such, he still skids backwards, arm throbbing and numb. "... ow." is all he seems fit to offer, before suddenly ducking down, planting his palm on the concrete. Flipping forward, twisting downwards, pulling his knees to his chest. "Roland..." And then he erupts upwards, spinning furiously, trying to slam both steel-booted heels into Brett's face. As hard as he can! "ROCKET~~~" Feel the burn of one of his most notable moves, able to even mildly chaffe Lord Vega!
COMBATSYS: Brett blocks Roland's Roland Rocket.
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Roland 0/-------/------=|====---\-------\0 Brett
Thankfully, while Brett is hardly as resiliant or powerful as the infamous Vega, he's hardly any slouch in taking a hit. The bottle was one thing. But when the spinning double-footed thrust comes out, Brett manages to take the hit rather solidly. Gloved hands cross, feet turning slightly to the side to give him some purchase as he's pushed back by the Rocket. Arms numb slightly even under the padding of his gloves...but hardly a problem for him right now.
Snorting, he pushes away, trying to get up some speed to circle around Roland on his skates. A small tap of his stick, trying to gather a rhythm, and perhaps make Roland wary of another stick attack....right up until he twists and slapshots out toward the tall cowboy. Blue chi rises like a shot, curving outward as is races along the ground straight toward the rugged man in front of the winger.
COMBATSYS: Brett successfully hits Roland with Shark Crest.
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Roland 0/-------/----===|=====--\-------\0 Brett
The recoil from the Rocket is no small matter. But still, erupting into wisps of green energy, Roland attempts to shove himself clear into the air. And he manages; this requires an amount of agility and strength that is certainly not minor, although it's insufficient. He's struck in the chest for his efforts, letting out a loud "Hrrrk!!" as he twists away, hitting the ground on his shoulder and then rolling to a stop. "Little..." Undeterred, he launches himself forward, still trailing a mild green silhouette. And then twists, snapping out a sweeping kick towards Brett's face, trying to use the full weight of his reinforced boots! "I ain't going down that easily!!"
COMBATSYS: Brett fails to interrupt Light Kick from Roland with Hurricane Check.
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Roland 0/-------/----===|======-\-------\0 Brett
The Crest manages to give Brett some room to work, watching as the cowboy reels from the attack, and allowing the hockey kid a small smirk. Seems like the perfect time to push in and take a little risk. So when Roland charges in, silhouetted in his rush, Brett moves in to meet him. Arm held up, he tries to wing out with the shot....before he finds the kick smashing into his face. Apparently, the last thing he expected was a kick to the face, and it shows, the kid finding himself dropped down to the ground and skidding from his momentum . "GUHhnnnnnnnnnhhghh!!"
If anyone asked, Roland would claim he totally intended to leverage his foot like that. In reality, his long legs were an inadvertant asset. Having gained a mild breather, he slips backwards and looks to the side. Before hefting up one of the dog crates, with a barking tiny mutt within gnawing on the metal bars. "Eat bitch, bitch!" He guesses at the gender, but with an arduous effort hurls the captured canine towards the man opposite. "HRRGH!" The staff interjects again, still polite and calm. "Please do not throw the strays."
COMBATSYS: Brett blocks Roland's Large Thrown Object.
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Roland 0/-------/---====|=======\-------\0 Brett
Oh, hell no. He did not just do that.
That's something that Brett just can't abide by. Throwing poor defenseless dogs like that. Even the yappy annoying pocket kind. Even if he doesn't like the small pups, he can't just let it fly by and into a wall or anything. So...Mr. Neuer does what he has to, keeping himself in front of the flying canine and catching it. Sure, the shot causes him to fall back and hit his back hard on the floor, but a small sacrifice.
Pushing the dog away to safety, Brett finds himself glowering death straight toward the cowboy. "You prick." The fact that he not only talked, but cursed (in a sense) betrays a lot about his irritation. And the sudden dash and break toward Roland to try and smack a skate hard into his ankle isn't that bad of an indicator either.
COMBATSYS: Roland interrupts Light Kick from Brett with Sleight of Hand EX.
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Roland 0/-------/--=====|=======\==-----\1 Brett
"Hey, if you got compassion, don't take it out on me." Roland mulls out, completely unrepentent. In fact, he has quite a smirk upon his face, beckoning the other man towards him. His ploy has worked. Brett is furious, and in that, he's completely open. Once more, emerald fire washes over him, bolstering his speed to a startling degree. During the advance, one hand dips into an exterior pocket, and he hurls a paff of sand right into the other man's eyes. Temporary blindness is hardly fun, gouged across the shin instead of the ankle; an aesthetic wound he can ignore, painful though it is. Using the open moment, he slithers behind, a wire snapped taut around Brett's throat. "There can only be one winner..." he growls, beginning to slug one fist into the other man's kidney and liver, repeatedly! That should remove any doubts to the extent that THIS fighter will go...
Alas, righteous anger really isn't something Brett is fully capable of tapping into effectively. The result is rather clear, as his attempted ankle breaking kick only ends upw ith sand in the winger's eyes, followed by a sudden garroting by some kind of wire. "GUUKKUUGHHH...." Struggling, tugging up with problematically fat fingers (damn you, gloves!), the life is choked from him until the shots straight to his liver causes him to no small amount of pain. "UGhgnhhh...."
With no real way out but to fight out, he ceases the attempt to loosen the wire around his throat. Instead, Brett snaps up his stick, trying to hook it behind the rough man's own head. "GUUKKKAAAHHH!!" With a choked growl of a battle cry, the stick is yanked. THe idea? Yank his head forward....straight into a backward smash of the hard-charging kid's own helmeted head.
COMBATSYS: Brett successfully hits Roland with Sir Stanley's Crush.
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Roland 1/------=/=======|=------\-------\0 Brett
Well, damn. Roland wasn't prepared for that stupid stick to be taken into the equation, and is hauled forward without much difficult. He /slams/ into the offered headbutt, sent sprawling bloodily upon the ground. That obviously hurt him a hell of a lot, from the way he writhes and curses upon the ground. Awkwardly he manages to get to his feet, peering through the crimson haze before smirking. "...wussy... hit..." He then rushes forward, bringing his palms together before leading with one booted foot. Both blades erupt out in tandem, flaring with emerald fire as he then snarls, raking upwards. Trying to impact him at the hip, slashing to the other shoulder, and send him flying skyward with the nearly uppercutting motion!!
COMBATSYS: Brett endures Roland's All In.
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Roland 0/-------/-------|======-\-------\0 Brett
Wussy hit or not....it did what it needed to, for Brett. It gave him breathing room, quite literally. "GUAAAAAAHHH!!!" comes the strained gasps, coughs following as the padded brute gets air back in his lungs. Shuddering as he rises up, he turns slowly, eyes red and teared up from the earlier choking. Oh yeah, he's not about to take that lying down.
And when the storm of chi-fed blades charges at him....he doesn't even fight it. He stays steady even as the attack plows into him and cuts him apart. Why?....well, when the final uppercut sends him skyward, Brett doesn't fight the flight. Hell, even embraces it, stick spinning like a helicoper rotor...wait, that shouldn't be happening. That really shouldn't. But it is, and if Roland isn't careful, as Brett falls, that cutting, spinning stick just might wreck him as bad as the real thing could.
COMBATSYS: Brett successfully hits Roland with Blackhawk Down EX.
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Roland 0/-------/---====|=------\-------\0 Brett
SLAM. They trade tremendous blows. Once more, Roland is sent into the air, seeming to be far more worse for wear. His body limply impacts the ground, flipping over and ending up on all fours. Hacking and wheezing, he still clings tenaciously to consciousness, pushing up slowly to his feet once more. "Sssss...on of a... alright..." He then gets to his feet, spreading his bladed forearms, focusing intently as emerald fire ripples along them. Spreading to the rest of his body as well. "Here comes... my greatest trick!!" Darting forward, he's little more then a blur, silhouettes trailing behind. Whirling, lashing out twice for Brett's stomach, before lashing forward and trying to cut deep across his shoulders with both at once, as a wash of green fire dissipates violently around him!!
COMBATSYS: Roland successfully hits Brett with Three Card Monte.
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Roland 0/-------/--=====|=====--\-------\0 Brett
The landing, however unsteady it is, comes for Brett in a rather satisfying manner, managing to give as good as he's gotten (hopefully) with the vicious stick spin returning the favor toward Roland. Landing in a low crouch, he unsteadily rises....only to find himself beset once more. And as spent as he is...there's no way to fight back properly, the cuts coming deep and gouging his already battered body, the chi only worsening the final blows.
Alas, it seems to be the end, the poor winger stumbling and trying to find a way to keep up, but faltering. His only recourse....to hook out at Roland with that stick again, hoping to pull him down with him into that concrete floor, much the way he did before. No headbutt awaits, unless you count Brett's head butting the floor...but it's not a bad parting gift, is it?
COMBATSYS: Brett can no longer fight.
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Roland 0/-------/--=====|
COMBATSYS: Brett successfully hits Roland with King's End.
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Roland 0/-------/=======|
Roland is really in no state for much of anything at this point. He had hoped he'd put Brett down hard enough that he'd lack any manner of reciprocation, but the descending scythe of his hockey stick hits him in the shoulder as he tries to sluggishly maneuver out of range. Down he goes, face slamming upon the concrete rather hard. ...anticlimatic, but he doesn't get back out, his head finally rattled unconscious after the trio of strong blows. The match is called after an awkward few seconds, when it becomes apparent neither is going to get up. "Draw!!" The pair's budding rivalry will only continue...!!
COMBATSYS: Roland takes no action.
COMBATSYS: Roland can no longer fight.
And so it goes. A few sparse claps, plenty of barks and howls and two fighters, giving their all, only to find the ground about as unforgiving as their own fists. At least Brett knows he did well. Hopefully. Even as the dog he saved earlier nuzzles against his leg in appreciation, he'll never know. If only he was conscious enough to enjoy the small gesture.
Log created on 21:13:11 07/06/2009 by Brett, and last modified on 03:17:52 07/13/2009.