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 Viva las Vegas, baby. The tournament has been advertised all over the internet, and has popped up a couple of times in sporting news. While it’s not being run by one of the major tournament committees, a tournament being held by one of the World Warriors is still something to drum up excitement. Preliminaries have been held all over the United States, and winners have been flown in on the casino’s own bankroll to stay in the casino hotel and help promote the tournament. There’s no hidden reason as to why the fight needs to be promoted so much; part of the proceeds are, amazingly, going to charity. Balrog, the owner of the casino and the World Warrior in question, has invited any of the other World Warriors to face him on his own turf, and part of the bets (and the purse) will be going to help underprivileged teens in major urban areas, teens like Balrog used to be himself. Of course, one of the World Warriors has answered the call, but the press has not been told who it is. Most of the tournament’s roster has been revealed to be up and coming fighters, fighting in the standard tiered progression to become Balrog’s Champions; only teams are allowed to compete, swapping between fighters in each of the tournament’s rounds, until only two teams stand. The teams will elect a representative to fight the final battle, and the winning team will receive the prize and front row seats to the World Warriors Collide main event. ---- The Rising Star of Judo, Jiro Yamada, is the first to arrive in Vegas, almost two weeks before the tournament. He learns of it immediately upon leaving the plane, and upon fighting in the preliminaries, is offered a spot in the tournament, provided he can be placed in a team. Most of the coming weeks are spent practicing and training for Jiro, with interruptions to see the sights. A week into his stay, he returns from his sightseeing to find a letter inviting him to a gym located off of the strip, as a possible team has been lined up for him. The wealthy Grecian wrestler, Maximillian Alexander, next arrives. A week early, he has secured a spot in the tournament with a charitable donation to Balrog’s charity and a demonstration of his abilities., and has arrived ahead of schedule to make preparations for his public donation. Balrog has even personally met with Max, making the small talk of the wealthy and impressing upon him his admiration of someone following another ancient western sport, like himself. He has offered to head one of the teams, and has rented a gym for himself and the people assigned to him. Fernanda Fernandes arrives next with Gabriela Tomoe, arriving via plane from Brazil. The two were seated next to one another on the plane, and were able to introduce themselves to one another and find out both were headed to North America for the same reason. They had placed in separate preliminaries, which they found amusing and providential. Now in Vegas and five days early, they have been given rooms and directions to training facilities and the sights, and have been given an appointment to meet with the Grecian wrestler who is likely to be heading their team. Syrant is the last to arrive in Las Vegas, in pursuit of his stolen car. He only learned of the tournament several days ago when he took the invitation out of the jacket of one of the thugs he had jumped in a warehouse on Vegas’ shady eastern side. The man had been tattooed with Shadoloo’s skull, and that was all the former Marine needed to take an interest in the tournament. The invitation directed him not to the casino, but to a gym fifteen minutes away. ----  All is quiet in the gym, as Max awaits the arrival of the four up and comers that had caught Balrog’s eye and had been assigned to him. There is a nervous tension in the air, and an excitement to meet new comrades. Welcome to Street Fighter! Here is where you can get to know each other, and feel free to have any backstory written up for your time in Vegas so far. Nanda and Tomoe can post about how they got to know each other and how their fights went before hopping the plane, Max can go into his motivations and his time with Balrog, etc. Please bold your name at the top of each post, and put your completed sheet in your first post. Italics for OOC and mechanical stuff, like now, and normal text for your fluff. If you do an action and know the stuff, tell me what it is and how many dice you’re rolling so I can roll for you. I’ll roll all dice on Invisible Castle and link them for transparency. So let’s get rockin’! HIGH SCORE LIST Nanda - Alien Rope Burn Syrant - Syrant Max - Ryuujin Jiro - W. T. Fits Tomoe - MadRhetoric
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| # ? Feb 12, 2013 23:39 |
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| # ? May 23, 2013 10:59 |
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Syrant As a youth, Syrant was fairly troubled and hardly behaved worth a drat, as he grew older he began to take a particular like of Stringray model Corvettes and yearned to own one from age sixteen. A product of the system at age 18 he eked out a minor existence for a few years, hardly able to even rent a car much less own one. Syrant enlisted in the US Marine Corps at age 21 and as such received combat training from his instructors. The years to come weren't very pleasant but it's not like he had anywhere else to be. Poor temper control (which he worked hard at taking hold of) plagued his enlistment and refusing orders finally sealed the deal when it came to a dishonorable discharge. At age 24 and without a life or friends to speak of he returned to Atlantic City. New Jersey wasn't a spectacular place to be but he found work and started something of a life. After running short on money to a point of nearly starving himself, he turned to petty crime. A couple of muggings led to the discovery of the street fighting business and he soon discovered that it was soothing to make good bank by beating the poo poo out of other people. Success in local arenas let him quit his job and begin to train and focus more on street fighting as a career. As cash rolled in he realized his youth-long dream and purchased, modified, and upgraded a 1971 Corvette Stingray. He ran into a losing streak when opponents began to notice he was a bit easy to lose his cool and be blinded by the anger they provoked in him. Fighting the same beast as he did in the Marine Corps, Syrant managed to slowly take control of his anger over the years but only mastered it after adopting a young Doberman named Chambers and bonding with him, finding himself less tempermental after adopting the animal. Using this he finally managed to turn his anger from a flaw into a weapon. Syrant can control his anger, sure, but unleashing it in the right circumstances was far too lucrative for the Deulist arenas. At age 26 Shadoloo became known to Syrant. Two operatives chasing a target through the city had to avail themselves of a vehicle as a response to their target doing as much and they proceeded to break in to a rather well maintained 1971 Corvette Stingray. It must have been nice for them to have such a vehicle for themselves-- well, one of them. Busting the passenger side window, Syrant tore the unfortunate half of the two out through the window. By the time he had tossed the operative aside and gone to grab the other the car had shot off into the distance, far beyond Syrant's ability to keep up. Enraged, Syrant conducted an interrogation on the asphalt and beat the operative until he finally gave up a name. 'Shadoloo'. Syrant took everything from the operatives person and began to look into just what the hell Shadoloo was. He still doesn't quite know how vast and powerful Shadoloo is, doing research between fights and following what trails he can find. He is dedicated to showing every one of them how big of a mistake they made. They stole his goddamn CAR! pre:Age: 32 Sex: Male Style: Special Forces Training Signature: Overdrive (Hyper Fist) Attributes Physical Strength 4 Dexterity 3 Stamina 3 Mental Perception 3 Intelligence 3 Wits 2 Social Charisma 2 Manipulation 2 Appearance 2 Abilities Talents Alertness 3 Interrogation 2 Intimidation 3 Insight 1 Skills Drive 3 Security 2 Stealth 2 Knowledges Arena 1 Investigation 2 Medicine 1 Advantages Backgrounds Animal Companion (Dog) 1 Contacts 3 Resources 2 Techniques Punch 3 Kick 2 Block 3 Grab 1 Athletics 3 Focus 0 Special Maneuvers Jump Haymaker Punch Defense Kick Defense Spinning Backfist Spinning Knuckle Flying Knee Thrust (Previously skipped over it by accident) Power Uppercut Combo: Spinning Knuckle + Haymaker + Power Uppercut "Jawbreaker" Signature: "Overdrive" (Hyper Fist) Chi 1 Willpower 8 Health 10 Honor 1 Glory 2 Stuck with the best wheels he could find, Syrant sought a source of transportation. As a man of class he immediately purchased an El Camino the most awlful the color of butterscotch ever has been. No hubcaps, no rims, not even fancy dice or fringe, just a car unsure of what it wants to be and an 8-track of Creedence Clearwater Revival thoroughly stuck in player. Taking his possessions, he set out on the road with Chambers in pursuit of Shadoloo or any murmurs thereof. Calling his contacts on a daily basis, Syrant has been kept as informed as they are. It led him along a path that strangely, just happened to keep following these street fights and between a pile of information he fought every other bout, mostly in the deulist circuit as he could really let go there. Tracing these fights led him through the American South-West and then it was Vegas, the fights had been incrementally more well attended as he followed the circuit but Vegas was advertising-dynamite in comparison to the previous fights. Where he had been used to old warehouses, alleys, and cul-de-sacs of the urban decay he was now able to put a face with a name. Balrog. Of course, they don't make this much show for a tournament involving any deulists-- not on the public side-- so Syrant has been focusing more on his fists than his Ka Bar. Some money is all it takes to grease the wheels for many people and he used that to his advantage, trying to find signs of Shadoloo where it seemed they had gone silent. Syrant was going to have to watch this one from the sidelines without an invitation. Breaking into a warehouse isn't terribly hard when the building looks like a pile of poo poo and has as much rust as it does bolts and wood. It made the affair easy, quiet. Where he had expected to find minor traces he came upon some clearly illegal trade going down. The buyers were far too dumpy to be of much problem and he had made sure to take down the plates of the vehicles outside. Letting them go, Syrant struck just as he heard the car sputter to life outside. Five men rendered down to one by way of a shipping container, a chain, and a padlock. Syrant had made sure to get the one barking out the orders was in the container to listen to the interrogation of his token minion. Mostly a scare-tactic, Syrant beat the man until he went unconcious. Throwing him bodily into the four men inside, Syrant grabbed the leader by the neck and dragged him out for interrogation after securing the container. Unfortunately it seemed the scare tactic had not softened him up. It's funny how much information you can rip from someones mouth with just a few of their teeth. Interrogation led to pleading as it usually does and once Syrant had seen the tattoo on the man's chest he was going for broke. With his his work he managed to find Shadoloo again. It made sense. There were dismantled vehicles llning the walls but not one of them was of Chevrolet make. The invitation he discovered was simply good luck. Now he just had to clean up and find a way in as 'Dr. Francesca Schmidt'. If he couldn't pull it off, he could always say he beat the ticket out of the guy who apparently beat it out of her and, as far as he was concerned, that should be reason enough. Luckily, his car is right at home in shady places and the gym is quite close, He carries only his most important of possessions in with him so that they cannot be stolen from him. His dog and the bag slung over his back containing what seems to be a shitload of books and loose paper, making sure to tuck it aside the first chance he is able and then fighting with indecision about how to play his card when it came to the invitation. Sex change, 'I'm Frank now.'? He'll just have to adapt in his glorious black, faded wifebeater and BDUs while catching up on what he may have missed. Being the last to arrive and the first to post kind of leaves me in an odd spot but I wanted to get this down while I had the time.
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| # ? Feb 13, 2013 01:37 |
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(OOC: No dirty words on the high score list? Miracles do happen) Gabriela As the scion of the Tomoe family, it was only natural Gabriela would enter the Brazilian prelims. A few strings were pulled to ensure she was able to stay in country; there was no dishonor in presenting her skills in front of her countrymen. The papers and the paparazzi certainly didn't mind her sticking around. She had hoped to travel for her prelims in passing, if only to sample another country's fares. She comforted herself with the greater tournament, a feast on the horizon. To be honest, a few of the early fights were boring. She liked the fights, and would never dare disrespect her opponents' skills, but the routine had gotten to her. Several of her competitors were practitioners of Capoeria or Tomoe Vale Tudo. She'd seen it all before; not only were they styles that swam in her blood and sang with every move she made, a few of the fighters she knew from the gym or the fighting circuit. She even had to beat her best friend, a very tall African born capoerista, to escape elimination. Her opponent in the finals was O Minotauro, a wrestler and fellow pioneer of contemporary Vale Tudo. He was getting on in years and had entered the tournament to prove he still "had it". Gabby was so starstruck by her idol she nearly lost in the first minute. He slapped her with the heavenly palm that had ignited so many souls before her; she rubbed her cheek, nodded, and struck him with the Tigre Assassino. He took it on the chin, smiled, and fought her to a draw. O Minotauro graciously gave his spot and his blessing to Gabby, he even saw her off come flight time. Gabby still thinks it's because O Minotauro let her win, no matter how much he swears otherwise. Gabby had never been out of the country on her own until this tournament, too busy training, doing school stuff and clubbing in Rio. Leaving filled her with a giddy nervousness; she'd never been too far from her family, but if there was anywhere to cut loose it was Vegas. Stories of Sin City danced in her head, sharing real estate with dreams of the winner's podium and the world stage. The heights she could climb to made her dizzy; she got airplane sickness for the first time on the flight. Meeting a fellow countrywoman on the plane put Gabby at ease. The small talk helped too. Halfway through the trip, Gabby decided that win or lose, she was going to throw a party when they returned. Nanda would be first on the VIP list, of course. They earned it for getting this far, she thought. Sure, Nanda was trained by a weird beast guy (who didn't positively represent Brazil at all) and didn't really earn her fighting skills like Gabby did, but she was fun and nice and she won her spot fairly, which was good enough. Plus, they were both Brazilian girls on the same flight, in the same row and at the same hotel. They were practically bound by fate. Gabriela Tomoe  Gabriela Tomoe is a kid ready to take on the world. Fresh out of high school and possessing the self-assured teenage invincibility, she's already made a name for herself with her rhythmic, hard-hitting style and quirky love of professional wrestling. Being the current scion of the Tomoe family, the name in Brazilian combat sports, hasn't hurt either. Tomoe Vale Tudo is the undisputed king of Brazilian martial arts.Every fighter worth their salt in Central and South America has trained with, fought against, or at least heard of a member of the Tomoe family. Their school, Tomoe Boxe e Luta, is the largest combat school in South America. The Tomoes have established a dynasty, built in blood and sinew, that has endured for over one hundred years. And yet, there has never been a World Warrior among them. Antonio Tomoe, Gabriela's father, came closest, only to be broken at the hands of Sagat. A ten year old Gabby was front and center then, even jumping in to defend her fallen father. The one-eyed King of Muay Thai marked her with her father's blood, a baptism into the world of fighting. She accepted her baptism with grace and a promise: she would become a World Warrior at Sagat's expense. Eight years have passed; the time has come for her to start making good on her promise. pre:Style: Tomoe Vale Tudo (Capoeria)
Signature: Pro Wrestling Impressions
Attributes
Physical
Strength 5
Dexterity 5
Stamina 3
Social
Charisma 2
Manipulation 1
Appearance 3
Mental
Perception 3
Intelligence 2
Wits 3
Abilities
Talents
Alertness 3
Insight 3
Streetwise 3
Skills
Security 2
Stealth 2
Knowledges
Mysteries 2
Style Lore 3
Arenas 2
Advantages
Backgrounds
Staff (Tomoe Boxe e Luta) 3
Gabby is the scion of the prestigious Tomoe mixed martial arts dynasty;
as such, she is given free reign over the facilities and trainers.
All of them know her by name, and many helped train and raise her.
Fame 2
The Tomoe name is famous throughout the fighting world. In Brazil,
it is spoken in the same rarefied air as royalty. Gabby keeps a low profile,
but her skills and tomboyish charm have made her a minor celebrity. She's
had to knock out an idol recruiter or two in her time.
Techniques
Punch 0
Kick 3
Block 0
Grab 3
Athletics 3
Focus 0
Special Moves
Jump
Knee Basher
Dislocate Limb
Throw
Back Roll Throw
Cartwheel Kick
Drunken Monkey Roll
Signature Move
Tiger Knee (Tigre Assassino) - The attack that felled her father and
the emblem of Sagat's Muay Thai, practiced from memory until
her legs gave out and her knees bled.
Combos
Dislocate Limb -> Knee Basher
Chi 2
Willpower 5
Health 10
Honor 3
Glory 0
MadRhetoric fucked around with this message at Feb 13, 2013 around 06:39 |
| # ? Feb 13, 2013 04:18 |
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 Nanda An anthropology major from Brazil, Nanda (Fernanda Fernandes) had no dreams of becoming a Street Fighter. As a student, she was involved in studying the native culture of the Amazon Rainforest's native mutant population. But! Little did she know... It turned out a mysterious group (Shadoloo) was kidnapping the mutants for their (Shadoloo's) own nefarious purposes, to take to their (Shadoloo's) secret labs located in fields of drugs. And not just like weed. Evil drugs. They (Shadoloo) cut down millennia-old rainforests to plant their crops, too. Bad news. Nanda and her peers stumbled across the operation, but were promptly captured by the evil drug lord terrorist conspirators. She fought hard, but wasn't of much use against the hordes of thugs with guns and armor had at their disposal. And they had a skilled psychic warrior at the helm - MASTER D. Plus, she had all the martial arts training of somebody who didn't. Imprisoned, it seemed poo poo was pretty much hopeless. There were evil experiments they were going to be put to (Shadoloo is a leading figure in evil science), but thankfully another force came into play. The camp came under attack by mutants - led by the legendary mutant Street Fighter Blanka. Fightin' happened, the power went out, and thankfully Shadoloo was using fancy electronic locks that go out when the power goes out because what are the odds of that happening, seriously. And so there were crazy mutants flipping out and guys with guns shootin' everywhere and then there were (soft) scientists and science students trying to escape and all the steam and the electricity produced in the facility was shootin' all over, and Nanda stole a gun, using it mostly to keep Shadoloo thugs' heads down. However, that's when MASTER D came out of nowhere and grabbed her, and Blanka was like 'rowr no you don't' (can Blanka talk in this game, I don't even know-), and MASTER D unleashed his cheesy Ler Drit psychic bullshit and Blanka released a shock and Nanda caught some lightning and went the hell down. When she woke up minutes later, Blanka was on the ropes! (It was an off day for him.) Struggling to her feet, MASTER D laughed and said all sorts of arrogant crap, the kind you say before you get a foot in your face. In this specific case, Nanda's foot. See, in this case, Blanka's electricity and MASTER D's psychic fuckfoo had joined up and transferred some of Blanka's muscle memory (that's real science, check it out) to Nanda! And so she could kick really good. And MASTER D was kind of busy keeping Blanka at bay, at least until the sudden and repeated head trauma. Then, Blanka was free to roll up and over MASTER D and he was defeated. The mutants and students escaped, the base exploded, and there were traditional Brazilian mutant fistbumps all around. Fast-forward a bit. Nanda has learned enough capoeira from Blanka to fight on the streets (it helps having a sensei that literally works for fruit, but he's kind of hard to reach in a pinch). Mostly, she wanders the world, learning about people, and honing her skill at kicking Shadoloo in the head.   It's quite the sight at the airport, what with the mix of mutants and friends and students seeing her off. There's hugs and lots of corny stuff. It's pretty sweet. A single carry-on duffel slung over her shoulder, she makes her way towards the plane itself and into the passenger gate, but a slight clicking sound from behind catches her attention. Glancing over her shoulder, she notices the glint of the knife in the hand of the steward... or thug, perhaps, coming up behind. A grin, and there's a blur of motion- - and minutes later the plane is taking off, sailing up into the sky as she sits back. Security was awfully understanding, but then, this is a world with Street Fighters. That sort of incident is unusual, but not exactly bizarre. Still, it doesn't exactly go without notice. There's whispers, and her height at over six feet doesn't exactly help a low profile. And that's part of how she ran across Gabriela Tomoe. Nanda, for her part, is effusive about the meeting. I mean, the Tomoe are famous, not like World Warrior famous, but a pretty big deal, you know? (A kind of cheerful bluntness, there.) And that's how her tone essentially is; reverential but casual, perhaps unaware of her voice being a bit too loud, and a strange optimism over what's basically bloodfights. The tournament coming up is exciting and she's given to talk on and on about it without actually knowing much, a string of what ifs and obsessing on the contenders. And of course she's going to win, not she's as good as a Tomoe, maybe she won't win then, but she'll try! She goes on in this sort of vein longer than I'm going to type; you get the idea. Parting with her peer on separate flights for her own preliminaries, Nanda arrived in San Diego with a good deal of tourist enthusiasm. The fights were tough, but they didn't train under a World Warrior, did they? They did not. Granted, sometimes Blanka's "training" was a little... unorthodox. Eating five pounds of oranges. Punching an electric eel. Rolling off a cliff. "Fly, little bird!", he would say. Or did she just imagine it? ... after some consideration, she found herself missing it a bit less.
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| # ? Feb 13, 2013 05:31 |
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Maximus Herakles Alexandros aka Maximillian Hercules Alexander  Wealth and privilege were things Maximus was born into, and so too was his strength. Though in the last he went through a great deal of blood, sweat and tears to get his perfect physique. And so while Maximus has had everything handed to him he still has a great appreciation for a man who has worked himself up from the streets to the heights that Balrog has achieved. Besides too many sing the praises of the Eastern Arts, forgetting the rich traditions of the West. To speak with a man who has taken a Western Art and made it his own, entering the world stage, is a rare honor. Some of his week of preparation was thus spent in the company of Balrog. Speaking of the Arts, and of the finer things in life. The two even took in some of the sights, and pleasures, of the City. Though both were busy men and so their time together was rather limited. Balrog of course had many things to prepare for the Competition. Maximus himself had preparations to make as well. Preparations had to be made for the public donation, such things did not simply happen spontaneously after all. And of course the rented gym needed to be prepared for his use, and the use of this team to be. The time has nearly come, soon he will be meeting his team. But in the meantime Maximus sits back, relaxed, in his luxurious penthouse room in the fanciest hotel in Las Vegas. Sipping a fruity drink, clothed in only a monogrammed robe bearing the initials M.H.A., as he reads over papers of world events. He turns from world events and begins to look at what information he has acquired on possible contestants, particularly his team members to be but also certainly others. Of course he cannot gather information on all of them, for many are less well known. Still he should be able to gather more information soon. Soon he will have the chance to test his body against warriors from around the world, he sips at his cocktail with a smile as his blood begins to boil. But soon he will meet his teammates, and so he puts away such simple things and prepares to head out to the gym, and his meeting with a number of fellow warriors. Style: Pankration Signature: Catch a single rose from the crowd, sniff it and then smile with a sparkle to his teeth and a ting, while his oiled body gleams in the light. pre:Attributes Physical Strength 4 Dexterity 2 Stamina 5 Social Charisma 2 Manipulation 2 Appearance 4 Mental Perception 2 Intelligence 2 Wits 2 Abilities 9/7/4 Talents Insight 3 Intimidation 1 Skills Blind Fighting 2 Leadership 3 Survival 2 Knowledges Arena 3 Medicine 1 Mysteries 2 Style Lore 3 Advantages Backgrounds Arena 5 Resources 5 Techniques Punch 2 Kick 0 Block 4 Grab 3 Athletics 3 Focus 0 Special Moves Air Throw (2) Buffalo Punch Jump Maka Wara Pin (2) Spinning Back Fist Throw Thunderstrike Combo Block (Maka Wara) to Buffalo Punch Chi 1 Willpower 6 Health 10 Honor 2 Glory 1 Freebies 2 -> Arena 3 to Arena 5 3 -> Resources 2 to Resources 5 5 -> Block 3 to Block 4 5 -> Stamina 4 to Stamina 5 Maka Wara as Signature Move Ryuujin fucked around with this message at Feb 20, 2013 around 02:01 |
| # ? Feb 13, 2013 06:03 |
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Jiro Yamada, Super High School Level Judoka Called the "Rising Star of Judo," Jiro Yamada, 3rd year student of the prestigious Hope's Peak Academy, has a bright future as a potential Olympic-level judoka... if he can ever get back home to Japan. Separated from his class at the airport on the last day of his senior trip in Okinawa, Yamada accidentally boarded a flight to Honolulu instead. From there, a series of unfortunate mix-ups, delays, and incomprehensible connecting flights have gradually dragged poor Yamada further and further east, with this latest debacle (a hijacking of a commercial passenger flight by some terrorist organization called "Shadow something or other") has landed Yamada in scenic Las Vegas, Nevada. Tired, confused, and desperately low on cash, Yamada is considering entry into a local fighting competition in order to help secure funds for his next attempt to get a flight back home to Tokyo. In spite of all his misfortune, the young judoka maintains a hopeful outlook, refusing to give in to despair. Style: Judo quote:Attributes Jiro sighed and looked over the invitation again, wondering how in the world he'd wound up in this situation. After his victory in the preliminaries, he'd finally managed to get in touch with Hope's Peak Academy. Elation had quickly given way to dread as the member of the staff he'd gotten in touch with informed him that the heads of the Academy were highly disappointed in him, first disappearing without a trace at the end of the school trip, and then receiving a report that he was in the U.S., squandering his prodigious skills for what amounted to pit fighting. They'd been prepared to have him expelled, but as fate would have it, one of his instructors, Takamura-sensei, had stepped in. Somehow, he'd managed to convince the heads of the Academy that this was a perfect opportunity for Jiro to put his skills to test out in the real world. Yes, the Olympics were still a goal worth striving towards, but training can only take one so far; real world experience would be invaluable, and what better place to gain that experience than out on the Street Fighting circuit, testing his abilities against a wide variety of styles? In the end, the Academy had reversed their stance; now Jiro was on an officially sanctioned "warrior's pilgrimage" or something to that effect. He was to keep fighting and winning as long as possible, and all his victories would be counted towards his academic achievements at the end of the school year. The good news was this got him out of end of term exams. The bad news was he was still stuck overseas, separated from all his classmates and his girlfriend. Arrangements were made for Takamura-sensei to eventually meet up with him at some point in the near future. With little else to do, Jiro settled in at his hotel and tried to adapt to his new circumstances. At present, the biggest challenge he faced was finding ways to keep himself occupied. Training helped, making use of his hotel's gym facilities, but even then, there was only so much training one could do during the day. Sightseeing was interesting at first, but after about a week, there wasn't much left for him to see; he'd taken plenty of photos of all of Vegas's most prominent landmarks (both day and night shots) and picked up some souvenirs for his friends and family. Gambling was completely out of the question, as he was still only 18 and therefore not legally eligible. And given his own chronically poor luck, Jiro wasn't really tempted to give it a shot even if he had been of legal age. So when all was said and done, when he found the invitation a week ago after returning from another round of sight-seeing (more to kill time than any actual desire to see the sights again), he had been quite eager for the appointed meeting to arrive. But now that it was here and he stood outside the gym, he began having second thoughts about all this. But there was no use in backing out now; he'd come this far, and it would reflect poorly on himself, not to mention Hope's Peak, if he were to back out now. So steeling himself, trying to think positive, Jiro entered the building and looked around. OOC: My apologies for the delay; I was feeling rather under the weather these last two days.
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| # ? Feb 14, 2013 01:05 |
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To clarify: Syrant, you were the last to arrive in Vegas, but probably not the last to the gym. Max is the first one there, and then you, and now Jiro. Now the two girls have to make it there (or we can presume they've already arrived) and Max can give his spiel and get you all going. Also, no prob Fits. I sometimes get hell schedules and end up working four 10 hour shifts in a row, so I've got no room to complain. 
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| # ? Feb 14, 2013 02:04 |
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I'm going to improvise a few things, not trying to step on any toes. Arriving at the gym first, it would seem, Syrant takes a moment to look around, curious if this wasn't some manner of actual competence within Shadoloo setting him up for an ambush. That notion is dismissed fairly fast as Syrant looks around. He turns about to open the door and speak faintly, a lean Doberman making its way inside before Syrant walks to a corner and kneels down, planting the bag on the floor. After some fishing around he produces a squat can and tears opent he lid on it before placing it on the ground. The Doberman doesn't hesitate to dive in. Syrant further produces a bowl and a fills it from what was once a two-liter bottle for some off-brand soda, now filled with water. Syrant, placing his hand on the back of the Doberman's neck, gives the dog a bit of a ruffle before re-securing the bag and tying it off and pushing it into the corner, placing the dog between it and anyone who might be curious. "Eat and make sure no one fucks with our stuff, all right? Good dog." Standing up, Syrant begins to stretch out his shoulders and his arms, expecting some possible sparring or a straight-out fight should his plans with his invitations fail to convince anyone. "Maybe we found us a major opportunity to figure out what those assholes are actually doing." For as long as he can go, undisturbed, Syrant proceeds to stretch his muscles down from his neck to even a bit with his feet-- it was something people overlooked sometimes. Syrant does manage to keep his back to the rest of the gym after some cursory glances at the equipment and general condition of the place. At least this place didn't seem too haughty, no rich assholes giving him the eye for not wearing UnderArmor or other similar bullshit like that. "Could be worse, I guess." he muses, finally finishing what stretching he can. Feel free to work my post around a bit to suit an easier interaction, I don't mind ret-conning bits of it for the sake of flow. If your character would have said something in-between all of that then I'm good with it, just assume that all the things accomplished in my post happen eventually.
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| # ? Feb 14, 2013 08:02 |
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Nanda Nanda thought back to the preliminaries on her way to the gym. There was the guy that just chugged energy drinks and threw the cans as part of his "style". Or the woman that dressed like she was from Ancient Egypt. Or the guy who was the splitting image of Mr. T. Or... was that actually Mr. T? Well. She was distracted by all the punches, and didn't think of it much later. No matter, though! They all got a close-up of her heel, or, more occasionally, her forehead, making her a sudden dark horse of the tournament. No fists; "Soccer-style Capoeira", maybe? It was more tiring than she'd expected, but pounding back oranges (it takes practice) did indeed help after all. And there's Vegas, finally. The money from the preliminaries went fast, though more on comforts than gambling between training sessions. Gambling, you see, involves sitting in one place and peering at cards or dice and mostly she stays on the move, seeing the sights, hanging with Tomoe, and- well, okay. Maybe a just a few games of craps, but- no jogo do bicho? Really? Gambling capital her foot. But enough exposition. It's time for present tense. Wearing her jumpsuit, Nanda arrives at the training area, duffel over her shoulder. There's a whistle as she looks around, before going to remove her shoes. "Is your dojo back home as big as this?", she asks Tomoe over her shoulder, before pausing in surprise. Focusing on the canine in the corner, she asks the obvious question. "A... fighting dog?!" Okay, maybe not so obvious.
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| # ? Feb 14, 2013 18:25 |
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Maximus Herakles Alexandros aka Maximillian Hercules Alexander Maximus sits back in the back of the Gym watching as the would be members of his team slowly arrive. He is a bit startled at first when one man walks in with a dog, but the dog seems to be well behaved. Though Maximus cannot tell who this arrival is, as the man does not seem to match any of the descriptions he had been given. Still he can let the man stretch, and when the others get here he can find out which the man is. After some more time another pair arrive, they too seem startled by the dog. For now Maximus remains where he is, it would be far more efficient to greet them all once they have all arrived.
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| # ? Feb 14, 2013 20:40 |
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Tomoe Gabby had spent the trip to the gym chatting Nanda's ear off about techniques and discotheques and how odd Nanda's opponents were. Gabby's may have been boring, but at least they were normal and took things seriously. She took great pleasure in describing the highlights of her own tournament: O Minotauro powerbombing two contraventores at once when they tried to fix a match, her best friend beating a first round fighter while walking on her hands. When it came time to talk about her own successes Gabby got bashful, brushing off her wins as luck or easy pickings over the starstruck. Gabby had taken several detours on the way to the gym; she had loaded herself down with souvenirs alongside her training gear. Bags hung off her arms, a consumerist weight training regiment, yet she animatedly spoke with them. "...And then he put him in the Iron Claw and," she stopped and took in her destination, "This it? Dad's is bigger. Mine's bigger, too, but that's 'cause it's my apartment." She nodded to the dog. "It's cute. This is a good dojo."
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| # ? Feb 14, 2013 23:45 |
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Syrant Cocking his head as he hears the door, Syrant looks over his shoulder at the arrivals. Sizing them up one by one, he has to say he's never personally fought a woman in any of his matches but he had seen a few of them completely school men twice their size, where men had desperately grabbed weapons from the ground to try and even the odds. It was actually kind of funny, in retrospect, how many people lost money on those fights. Syrant turns enough to regard the two women and raises one brow. "Not unless you make me turn him loose," he speaks "Otherwise he's just my dog." Licking his snout, Chambers finally turns toward the door and looks everyone over. "Well, he did once nearly tear out a man's throat but it was his own fault for trying to steal our car." and, given the car parked just up the street, it wasn't even a -good- car. The dog opens its muzzle in some semblance of a yawn before plopping down on the floor and looking around. Syrant frowns, looking to the dog. "At least look menacing, you're killing me, Smalls."
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| # ? Feb 15, 2013 01:23 |
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Jiro Once inside the gym, Jiro took a quick look around, noting the presence of others. Two young women chatting with each other, an older man doing some warm-up exercises, and... Jiro froze, eyes widening at the sight of the doberman. Unbidden, memories of visits to his grandmother as a child sprang to into his head, and of her vicious little hellhound who seemed to have no other purpose in life than gnawing on Jiro's calves. "Oh, he's just affectionate," his grandmother would dismissively say. Apparently, Jiro and the dog had held vastly differing opinions on what "affection" meant, though Jiro was pretty sure it shouldn't involve bite scars all over his legs. Suppressing a shudder, Jiro tore his eyes away from the doberman and continued to look around, finally noting a man in the back observing them all. "Ah... hello? Are you the one in charge here, sir? I received an invitation..." Jiro fumbled around in his pants pockets for a moment before remembering he was already holding the invitation and sheepishly looked at it before holding it up.
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| # ? Feb 15, 2013 02:00 |
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Nanda Striding in, Nanda stretches casually, limbering up as she eyes the ring, then the judoka and the marine... Maximus hits her peripheral version, but he's in the back. Walking in further, she leans against the ring for a moment, pats it, and spins around on her heel. "Well, ah, I don't think he looks too dangerous...", she mentions towards the dog, before giving Syrant a sheepish grin. "Anyway, I'm Nanda, this is Tomoe, we're here about the tournament?", she says with a gesture to her peer, her accent notable but not strong. Pointing to Jiro's invite, she says, "Oh!", in realization, and then quickly digs into the pockets of her duffel. After a moment, she produces her now-awfully-crumpled invite. Well, it's been through a lot from one hemisphere to another. "Are you all here for the team, too?", she asks brightly, waving the invitation a bit.
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| # ? Feb 15, 2013 02:49 |
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Maximus Herakles Alexandros aka Maximillian Hercules Alexander As the final member arrives Maximus stands and strides forward. "Greetings all. I am Maximus Herakles Alexandros. I understand if that is a bit awkward for some, you may call me Maximilian Hercules Alexander if you prefer." "You could say that I am the one who invited you. It is not exact, but close enough." He makes to shake hands with the individuals. "It is good to meet you Nanda, Tomoe." He shakes their hands if they are willing and turns to Jiro and Syrant. "And the two of you?"
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| # ? Feb 15, 2013 03:41 |
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 Syrant Chambers does not seem to be in any particular mood to get up and menace anyone's calves, he is a bit more interested in Maximus, however."Well, books, covers, you know." Syrant replies to Nanda, glancing over Jiro with only a hint of confusion before moving on to regard Tomoe once more and then to the rather... Well, Syrant's vocabulary would not really have a flattering term for the man but then again most of his vocabulary wasn't flattering to anyone. The name is a bit much for him to really take in, his brain cutting the name down to something much more simple but he keeps his silence. Watching as Maximus makes his way down the line of them, Syrant's grip is firm while he looks Maximus in the eyes. "Yea, you too." Syrant says, his hands moving to hook his thumbs through the belt-loops on his BDUs. Glancing to Jiro, Syrant wonders if he might have come from similar circumstances in receiving his invitation. Syrant's fingers move to rest in his pockets, one of them fingering the folded invitation in it's respective pocket. "You sure it isn't easier if we just call you Max or something?" Syrant inquires, "Honestly? I'm not going to remember much past that, not sure if many Americans would." Syrant glances to the others, then to Maximus. "I mean, I can write it down but it's gonna be an uphill batle for me." "That's Chambers-- not apostrophe-'S'-- people have a lot of trouble with that." Syrant adds quickly, the dog huffing as it lays his muzzle between his forelegs. "He's not involved in the fights."
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| # ? Feb 15, 2013 06:52 |
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Maximus Herakles Alexandros aka Maximillian Hercules Alexander Maximus almost seems taken aback at the difficulty with the modernized form of his name. "Well if the full name is too much for you, you are welcome to call me Max. And your name?" The man seems to have given his dog's name, but not his own.
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| # ? Feb 15, 2013 17:31 |
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Tomoe Gabby shook Max's hand, taking care not to squeeze too hard. "Pleasure to meet you." She snorted at the American's misgivings; maybe this was the result of poor public schooling. He looked like he came out of a dumpster or a favela, so maybe he wasn't the best representative of American brainpower. "Maximillian isn't that hard to remember," Tomoe said, "And you could call him Alex or Hercules...or Hunk." She sized up the marbled Adonis of a host and tried not to drool, "I didn't think they made 'em like you anymore."
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| # ? Feb 15, 2013 20:22 |
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Maximus Herakles Alexandros aka Maximillian Hercules Alexander A gentle smile graces Maximus's face. "Well I guess you can say my family is rather old fashioned."
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| # ? Feb 15, 2013 22:21 |
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Syrant Syrant nods curtly as he is given permission to abbreviate Maximus' name and then his eyes cut to the side to look at Tomoe. "Some of us got a -lot- of poo poo we have to keep track of," he states with a vague bit of ice in his tone "More important names to remember and make sure and pick your jaw up off the floor." Isn't making friends wonderful? His body language suggests he's more annoyed than hateful. Syrant grunts quietly through his nose and pulls his left hand up with the folded invitation slotted between his fingers. "Some of us have some very important reasons for being here." Syrant turns his hand over and holds the folded invitation out for Maximus. The invitation is in decent condition, crumpled a bit but otherwise fine. It reads as clearly being intended for 'Dr. Francesca Schmidt', as to whether or not Syrant looks anything like a doctor or a woman... He's obviously not trying very hard either way. Maybe he's not one of those 'Doctor' doctors. "There it is." Syrant says, fairly sure things are going to go one of two ways and neither of them are promising.
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| # ? Feb 16, 2013 00:13 |
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Maximus Herakles Alexandros aka Maximillian Hercules Alexander Maximus glances at the invitation and back to Syrant. "I must admit you were not what I was expecting." A smirk, "you do not exactly look like a woman." The smirk fades, as a harder look takes its place. "Can you even say your name? Do you even know what martial art you are supposed to be a practitioner of?" He begins to walk back and forth as he asks some odd, perhaps insulting, questions.
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| # ? Feb 16, 2013 00:29 |
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Tomoe This American was...kind of slow, wasn't he? Every move, every combo, every counter, every style and practitioner and teaching had a name as important as anything. Gabby was getting the feeling that he was taking her lightly; she may had been the youngest of the group but she earned her spot like everyone else. She deserved the same respect. "Well of course," Gabby said, "That's no reason to be disrespectful to our host." She gave the American a smug look. "And I'm admiring fine art. Don't hate because he's a porcelain god and you look like an extra from Death Wish". She gave Max's bicep a firm grip and squeed a little; she couldn't even get her whole hand around it! "Like coiled steel! Nanda, Nanda, you've gotta feel this." Max politely but firmly broke Gabby's vice-grip on his guns and moved onto more important matters. Once Max started grilling the American, her playful demeanor ceased. The American didn't even earn his spot here, and he dared to make light of a fighter's knowledge. He didn't even put a lot of effort into his deception. His very presence here was an insult to proper fighters. "Who are you, exotico? Depending on your answer," she smacked a fist into her palm, "I may have to kick your rear end."
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| # ? Feb 16, 2013 01:19 |
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Nanda After a firm shake with Maximus, Nanda's eyes flick quickly from figure to figure before she comes to her observation. "I'm not sure there's very many Americans here.", she comments, mostly to herself, but loudly enough to hear. Then, she cheerily concludes, "All the same, Max will do fine. It is easier to cheer in the middle of a fight!" A smile, and she nods to herself on that. It's settled. At the tension between Maximus and Syrant, she leans in, looking at Syrant. "It's a bit rude to pry, but I understand they are doing amazing things with surgery here in America...", she ventures with a bit of hesitation, before putting her hands up at Tomoe, clearly a little embarrassed. "Haha, that's alright, I trust your judgement!"
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| # ? Feb 16, 2013 01:23 |
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Jiro Jiro began growing more and more uncomfortable as the situation began to escalate. He wanted to find some way to help defuse the situation, but was at a loss as to how. He was still trying to get his thoughts in order when he heard Gabriela speak. "Who are you, exotico? Depending on your answer, I may have to kick your rear end." Jiro blinked at that, taking a moment to look over the rough-looking American again. True, he didn't carry himself in the same way as someone with a lifetime's worth of formal martial arts training, but all the same, his bearing gave the impression of someone who knew more than enough to take care of himself in a physical confrontation. Jiro glanced at the invitation the man had presented again and suddenly spoke up. "Are you certain you could, Tomoe-san? Whoever he is, he's either strong or clever enough that he was able to take that invitation away from whoever used to have it. While I don't doubt that you're a skilled fighter in your own right, I feel it would be unwise to underestimate him."
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| # ? Feb 16, 2013 02:00 |
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Syrant "Yeah, I was wondering how far that would get me." Syrant admits, shaking his head. Glancing to Tomoe he closes his eyes and lets an amused snort come from his nose. "I'm only going to let that slide because Deathwish was amazing." Opening his eyes, Syrant rotates his shoulders and sighs. "How do I put this..." he contemplates aloud, turning back toward Maximus. "Max, you ever want something you couldn't have? Something you couldn't get to without many years of frustation and bullshit? Have you ever worked through it all to actually get it?" Syrant pauses, looking Max over, perhaps there was a better angle of approach. "A woman you loved but she was too young to go against the words of her parents? A beautiful creature you stared at, dreamed about, reached out for but life was against you?" "And through all that time, after many years wondering if you should give up and go for something more on your pay-grade, finally get what you wanted?" Syrant lets that rest for a moment. "I did. Then she was taken from me." With a brief sigh he rocks back and forth on his heels. "Basically, I chased down every lead I could find and I burned through just about every dollar I could scrape from the Deulist racket--" Syrant looks to Tomoe "Fighting in it, not just betting on it" and then back to Maximus "And it led me here to a piece-of-poo poo warehouse where I ran into the bastard who had that in his pocket. It's the only lead I have, my contacts ran dry." Jiro speaks and Syrant nods, putting it much more succintly than Syrant could really ever hope to. "Exactly. I figure if you lose that to someone else they probably earned it and just in case he didn't I beat the poo poo out of him for good measure, tore out a few of his teeth. He shoved that into my hand and passed out, so I'm here because this is where the trail leads." Syrant then mades a wide gesture to indicate the gym around them. "I don't know where the next clue is going to come from but I'm out of options and running out of time." Syrant glances around "None of you are the type of people I've been chasing down. Too... intelligent, I guess, is the word." With that, he exhales and looks in the eye of every person gathered. "Call me Syrant if you're going to let that be enough of a reason to be here... Otherwise I guess we better get this fight over-with." he says, taking a half-step back. The doberman in the corner rises, coiling up like a spring with his hackles raised.
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| # ? Feb 16, 2013 03:09 |
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Maximus Herakles Alexandros aka Maximillian Hercules Alexander Maximus smiles. "That is all I ask." He clasps his hands behind his back. He glances toward Jiro. "I don't believe you have introduced yourself?" Turning back to Syrant he glances between the desperate man and Tomoe. "Hmm. All I really care is that you are capable. Your story suggests that you are indeed." He pauses for effect. "Yet I would like a demonstration all the same, if you don't mind. Perhaps you and Tomoe can do a little sparring?" He smiles again. "It may be best to get out any frustrations now if we are to be working together."
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| # ? Feb 16, 2013 03:38 |
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Tomoe Gabby had a boast ready for Jiro, but it died in her throat. She even choked on her words a little. Syrant's words deflated the tension utterly. The guy may not have been a martial artist, but he was as much a fighter as anyone else here. Maybe more. Full of nervous energy and more than a little ashamed of herself, Gabby began to bounce on the balls of her feet. "But I don't really wanna kick his rear end now," she whined, "He's got a touching story and everything. If he wants to throw down we'll throw down, but I'm not going to beat up some guy at the end of his rope."
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| # ? Feb 16, 2013 04:05 |
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Nanda Nanda hmms, putting her fingers to her chin for a moment. "If he's a fighter, Tomoe, he can stand up for himself.", she starts, her tone a little more serious. She tilts her head, considering. "I think if he can prove himself, though, it should be fine!", she adds to Max. "We need five people for the tournament, right, Mr. Alexandros?" She holds up her fingers as if to emphasize the number. "And it would be troublesome to get another..." Looking to Syrant, Nanda smiles again with perhaps odd cheer, considering the subject. "If Tomoe is not willing, I will be glad to help you demonstrate your skill, Syrant.", she concludes, folding her hands as she keeps a solid stare on him.
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| # ? Feb 16, 2013 04:53 |
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Jiro Jiro relaxes visibly as the tension that had been building is deflated by Syrant's story. However, he starts when Maximilian addresses him. "I don't believe you have introduced yourself?" "Ah, you're right! I'm sorry, I am Jiro Yamada, third year student of Hope's Peak Academy and Super High School Level Judoka. Please, forgive my rudeness; I meant no disrespect," he says, straightening and giving a formal bow to everyone.
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| # ? Feb 16, 2013 17:58 |
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Maximus Herakles Alexandros aka Maximillian Hercules Alexander Maximus smiles at Jiro. "Thank you." Turning to the others. "As I said a capable warrior is all I care for." He nods to Nanda. "If Tomoe is not willing to spar with him over a sob story then it may be for the best if you spar with him. And you are right we need five."
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| # ? Feb 16, 2013 18:36 |
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Tomoe Sensing a chance to prove herself slipping away, Gabby cut Max off. "Just because I don't want to kick his rear end doesn't mean I don't want to fight him!" she blurted out. "They're two different things!"
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| # ? Feb 17, 2013 00:12 |
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Syrant Syrant looks Tomoe over and then back to the dog, Chambers to give him a vague gesture that has the dog moving back to the corner to lay down on his side and exhale loudly through his nose. Turning back to the group, Syrant brings one hand up to the back of his neck, rubbing at it for a few moments. "Rack 'em up, lets get this done." he says, reaching behind him and removing the sheathed Ka Bar at his back, tossing it to the corner to land on top of his bag. "I'm not going to duck out of a fight, first-come first-serve." Syrant states, peeling his wifebeater off his torso and tossing it in the general direction of his belongings. "I haven't done a lot of fights outside of the Deulist racket." Indeed, his torso shows plenty of scar tissue from lacerations, stab-wounds, and what looksto be a couple of bullet wounds on his shoulder. There's even some healed over burns on him. There is ink, as well, standard military affair. A stencil-lettered USMC just below the back of his neck and an obligatory 'Semper Fidelis' across his shoulders. Syrant slips past Maximus, a quick turn to minimize him to his profile to more easily part the group around him as he walks out toward the more open area of the gym. "Four years ago the thought of losing a fight to a woman would've been laughable but I've seen some crazy poo poo go down. If you're going to start throwing fire and poo poo at me just try and avoid my head? I don't want to scrape my burnt eyebrows off with me Ka Bar again." Looking to Maximus, Syrant cocks his head. "So, set down the rules. We're obviously not trying to break bones or cause major injury. You have some sort of guideline to follow or do we just play this by ear? Or do you just want to call it when you think I've proven myself?" Syrant then looks to Tomoe and makes a flourish with his arm, bowing slightly to invite her over into the open space he has moved to. "Someone needs to call the beginning and end of it." With that, Syrant begins stretching out his arms, rolling his shoulders and his neck to try and loosen up a bit more before assuming a somewhat unorthodox stance, some sort of off-shoot of military training, a personalized twist. "All right, let's get this started."
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| # ? Feb 18, 2013 18:54 |
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Maximus Herakles Alexandros aka Maximillian Hercules Alexander Maximus looks Syrant over appreciating the scars and signs of conflict. They do not necessarily say that Syrant is a capable fighter, but still they are somewhat reassuring. He nods. "We will play it largely by ear. Try to avoid any lasting injuries, we would not want to hurt our chances after all, and this is simply a spar. I will call the fight either when one loses consciousness, forfeits, or when I feel I have seen enough to gauge your capability." He indicates an area set aside for such spars. Looks to both combatants, and once they both appear to be ready, he intones. "Begin!"
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| # ? Feb 18, 2013 19:02 |
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Tomoe Gabby beamed and started fistpumping at the American answering her challenge. She finally got to sample a different style, work out some of her nerves, and show how awesome she was in one fell swoop. "Alright alright alright," she said, "Let's do this!" She didn't bother to take off her fashionable sweats, but did kick off her shoes and socks. "Like the feel of bare foot on bare floor," she said, going through a quick series of stretches, "Feels more natural, y'know?". She started shadowboxing, bouncing in tune to a rhythm in her head. The tourist thing was fun and all, but a scrap, even a play one, gave her an indescribable rush. As her opponent disrobed, his patchwork of scars caught her eye. "You know what they say about scars, scruffy; each one is a memento of mistakes." Her smile curled, "That's a loooot of mistakes." The bouncy, effervescent energy settled into an ironwrought horse stance; well defined muscles strained against her casual couture. "I wonder which one taught you not to underestimate a girl?" She was confident, almost smug, high on her own skills. The Tomoe Vale Tudo system combined the firmness of jiu-jitsu with the fluidity of capoeria; the smooth yielding of aikido with the smashmouth strength of karate. There was no way some scruffy hobo with a secondhand invitation and a secondhand style could hope to stand against years of tradition. She'd tap this guy out, then play with his dog. Just to rub it in. Gabby practically leapt at the signal to start, her horse stance melting into a quicksliver lunge. "Don't blink!" So MC, are we doing this freestyle or should we start rolling dice and junk?
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| # ? Feb 18, 2013 23:43 |
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From the word of Dyne <Dyne> We'll be doing the fight for real, and I will be handling the dice rolls via Invisible Castle.. unless Rhetoric and Syrant both just want to freestyle. <Dyne> Just post your attack and modifiers from your pools, and I'll handle the rest, and handle it via speed based on the attack. Since it's vs, they can PM their attack.
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| # ? Feb 19, 2013 00:20 |
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To expand on this, I'll take your moves either through #acolyte, Steam, or forum PM, and work the modifiers and figure out who goes first, and write my little snippet of fluff for it. Any fluff you wanna include is welcome, and I'll expand on that. Once your moves are done, you're welcome to roleplay it up between attacks, reacting to one another, before giving me your new moves. I'm only doing it like this for versus, so your decisions are more natural than 'wait for the other guy to post so I can plan.'
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| # ? Feb 19, 2013 04:11 |
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Syrant "Do whatever you need." Syrant says, still rolling his shoulders a bit, maintaining his stance but shifting his balance between his feet to be ready to move as soon as possible. "Oh, you haven't even seen the ones on the inside, yet." Syrant quickly replies, grinning faintly as adrenaline begins to course through his veins. "That one's an inside scar," he indicates, tapping his temple twice with one digit "And it's a mile long." Syrant's style is indeed a mutation of a more disciplined military style but calling it second-hand without watching him in action might be a mistake. The long and short of it? He's past his prime, in his eyes, and would likely have seen better several years ago-- but several years ago he didn't have a reason to punch his way through leads all the way to Vegas. "Usually a bad idea!" he barks, darting in to meet Tomoe without hesitation.
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| # ? Feb 19, 2013 04:34 |
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The two fighters square off against one another, each sizing the other up once more before commiting to the fight. Syrant is the first to move, ducking briefly as he plants his feet to give him more momentum. He begins to rise, fists clenched, but Tomoe decides not to wait on the older fighter, instead lunging forward and grasping his arm with both of her hands. She leans back, slamming her foot into Syrant's armpit as she yanks back with all of her strength; there is a crack as the soldier's shoulder comes out of socket, and Tomoe releases his arm, rolling back a few steps. Syrant staggers back, and despite having his shoulder knocked out of socket, he doesn't look too much worse for the wear. He grits his teeth and ducks forward once more, rising and spinning in one move with his fists clenched and arms outstreched. Tomoe is unprepared for the soldier's strength and resilience, and Syrant slams the back of his knuckles twice into her face and body. Syrant moves forward to engage, and Tomoe interrupts; she dislocates his shoulder and deals 1 health level of damage. Syrant then continues, spending a willpoint and acting at a disadvantage, and still deals 3 health levels of damage. He is at -3 speed next turn if he chooses to fix his arm, otherwise is he stuck kicking. You two may react to each other's attacks and expand on the results as you like, and then send me your next set of moves; Jiro, Max, and Nanda may also cheer and jeer as they like, and run commentary. ROUND ONE Syrant: [=========*] Tomoe: [=======***] Tomoe: Dislocate Limb Speed 4, Damage 9, Move 4 Syrant: Spinning Knuckle Speed 2, Damage 8 x2, Move 6 http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/3932725/ Tomoe 2 successes, 1 botch, Syrant takes 1 damage Syrant’s punches are now at -2 damage, and he is at -3 speed next round if he chooses to relocate his arm http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/3932727/ Syrant 2 successes, Tomoe takes 2 damage http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/3932728/ Syrant 2 successes, 1 botch, Tomoe takes 1 damage John Dyne fucked around with this message at Feb 19, 2013 around 05:53 |
| # ? Feb 19, 2013 05:45 |
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Jiro As Tomoe and Syrant move to square off, Jiro drops his own workout bag (containing his gi and a few other items) on the ground, the plops down next to it to watch. He focuses his full attention on both fighters; being the only judoka in attendance at Hope's Peak, nearly all of his sparring practice had been against other styles. While it had been strange at first, he'd adapted quickly, and always looked forward to sparring matches, both his own and those of others. Every time he fought or watched, he learned something new, gleaned new insights about how to apply his own technique in various situations. As the two fighters charge forward, Jiro takes note of Tomoe's stance, recognizing what she's about to do. "... I really hope he's not planning on doing a lot of punching..." he mutters, more to himself than Nanda or Max. He winces slightly as he hears Syrant's shoulder pop out of place. Jiro opens his mouth to comment, only for the words to die on his lips as Syrant forces himself to endure the pain and deliver a counter-attack. Recovering, he grins and calls out to Tomoe. "You really need to stop underestimating your opponent, Tomoe-san! Scars may be mementos of past mistakes... but a good fighter learns from his mistakes. And judging by all those scars, I'd say he's learned quite a lot over the years."
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| # ? Feb 19, 2013 06:13 |
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| # ? May 23, 2013 10:59 |
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Tomoe The sound of a shoulder popping was music to Gabby's ears; most fighters just gave up once something came apart. A shoulder was easy to work back into place, but most people don't think that. They think 'holy poo poo my arm is broken aaaAAAAAA'. It took years of training to shut that part of the brain up, to deaden your pain response and grit your teeth. She shifted her weight to take the American down to the mat, only to get a fist to the face for her troubles. It was sloppy and came at an awkward angle, which made it slip perfectly into one of Gabby's blindspots. She stumbled backwards; stars played at the edges of her vision. She waved off Jiro, getting punched was distracting enough without being chided for it. "Maluco" she spat a little blood, laughed and slapped her cheeks, "Gonna make me work for it, huh?!" She dove back in, feinting towards the wounded arm: if he tried to protect it his legs would be open for a takedown, if he did something stupid, Gabby would leap up and put her knee right in the socket. MadRhetoric fucked around with this message at Feb 19, 2013 around 06:36 |
| # ? Feb 19, 2013 06:21 |
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