The trees made a wall, an oasis. They blocked out the rest of the world. A large, but shallow lake stood in the center, providing a cool and refreshing drink to all those that happened to find their way into the ring of trees. The tall grass swayed in the gentle breeze that managed to make it through the natural barrier, hiding all the birds and wildlife that lived below its top. The field was set, contestants ready, judge prepared, the winner would move on. The one that was defeated would be eliminated.

The stillness, the serenity, the peacefulness, was all disturbed as the wildlife sprung to life. Birds of all types, pheasants, falcons, and more, all flew away to a safer place. They could all sense the approaching presence. The watter rippled as a dark form stepped into it. He looked down at his distorted, rippling reflection and smiled. The time had come for his tournament to commence.

The Drow Weapon's Master reached back into the long grass. He pulled out a large bulging sack and placed it by the water's edge. Quickly pulling it open he knelt down beside the sack. Reaching in, Nafalen began systematically pulling out various weapons, pieces of armor, rings, and more. He made two piles.

The first pile held a Dagger, and a Wolf's Bane Shortsword.


The second pile held a Dagger.

Gathering up his sack, Nafalen left the piles at the water's edge and left the oasis. He climbed a nearby tree to watch the battle that he knew was about to ensue.

The grasses stretching across the open fields, various woodland creatures prancing about, and the earth wounded to suggest past confrontations and deep scars. It was the outdoor training arena in all of its familiarity. Many passed through this vast area, not seeking, but watching battles before they headed off. Others called it their temporary home where they would fight anyone who could walk and carry a sword, in order to hone their skills. Vauduex Jupiter had been taken into a battle once in this location before, which proved to be all the experience he needed before journeying around the rest of Arda. He made his way past a small brook that crawled through a small sub-arena and branched off throughout the whole region like veins.

Here, he stopped and looked at the flat plot of dirt where his old battle resurfaced. The combatants footprints were almost still embedded in the terrain it was so fresh in his mind. Vaud remembered lunging particularly at a fallen warrior, in the midst of the four-on-four scuffle, and grinning as he caught another’s foot in mid-kick. It would take that very cunning today, in this new battle, if he was going to come out as the victor.

The abundant area was emptied of its various patrons this day. The word of a tournament hit the region calling for the event manager to request the bulk of the arena. His old friend Nafalen was holding the tournament itself. Once Jupiter had caught wind of it how could he pass it up? He must be coming up in Arda, Thought the half-dragon his memories now resurfacing their last venture of plundering a valuable Phoenix egg. Also there was a grand prize involved, one of gold, something Vaudeux could never pass up when he had the chance. Today it was round one of three, his opponent unfamiliar at the start. If nothing else he would gain experience if not gold, but he would fight with ruthlessness no matter what the circumstances.

His pair of green eyes darted across the area, to a patch of trees, where he was instructed to go to begin. Reaching a patch of high grass he trudged his way through, his shins acting like a plow by taking the bulk of the job. The first combatant passed through the archway of the trees to a shallow lake that was sparkling under the high sun. It was relatively empty besides that, as he was the first to arrive, except for two separated piles of weapons. At once he recognized his old dagger and short sword and made a bee-line for the blades. Next he knelt down beside them and quickly untied the cloak weighing him down. The black garment whipped up and floated down to the ground at his feet like by an invisible gust of wind. It revealed a new attire underneath, much unlike his normal common wear.

A long sleeved black collared shirt, of high quality, covered his torso. Stitches of green wove their way around his external obloquies, the handiwork woven in by only elves themselves could. There was a pair of matching black pants that hung comfortably over his hips of the same stitch work. Yet these clothes weren’t gifts, but a lucky find and snatch from his proficient thievery. Once the cloak was no longer obscuring his movements he then reached for his dagger and his right ankle in the same movement. Under the new pants was a holster of which he loosened and then began to fasten to the outside of his leg. He couldn’t risk the pants obscuring its flight if he needed to draw the weapon. The harness fastened securely to his leg, he then fixed the dagger in optimum position so that when he kicked up, the dagger would return to his hand.

After his procedure was complete he looked up at the arena itself. There was a thin strip of flat, viable land for the battle itself to take place, while the reflective lake and the trees boarded it. At that moment he visualized himself parrying and found that the trees were on his right; meaning that his body preferred that geographical position. Vaud had to tell himself that the lake was nothing, just an extended plot of land and nothing to worry about. It soothed his subconscious somewhat and he then reached back to his sword still on the ground. With the blade in his left hand he stood and walked towards the trees just in case his opponent was approaching. Minutes passed and the initial arrival started to sink away, he started to feel alone although he was sure there was a judge lurking around somewhere. With an exasperated sigh he started towards the opposing corner, the lake to his left as he walked faced away from the center, and began swinging his sword in warm-up motions. While he waited he practiced his footwork, from short spurts to fakes, while warming up his tactics. Then he stopped and began to stretch his arms and sides for a minute.

All at once he was ready. The muscles over his body almost ached for battle, his trained arm itched to execute slashes and lunges, and the beast in the back of his mind hungered for combat, lying dormant only by Jupiter’s will.

An oasis. A perfect place for a battle of epic proportions. Green, lush, clean, an odd sight in the middle of nowhere, but welcoming. Azlateen knew that even though it was welcoming, it still had something awaiting him. It was either an advancement to the next round, or total failure, forcing him to go home. Az wouldn't accept the last one. He had trained to hard throughout his life to become a master at what he does for fun. Which is fighting all styles of martial arts.

Entering on in to the ring of trees, he noticed his dagger laying next to a big shallow pond. And nearby he saw his opponent. He stopped for a moment, looking at his new enemy with his pure black demon eyes. His muscles tensed up, getting ready for his next big fight. He broke his gaze off and put it on his dagger, and went and picked it up. He sheathed it in his pants, adjusting it so he wouldn't notice it, yet still have it ready for anything.

Looking back at his opponent with a challenging glare, he walked to the other side of the pond, readying himself for what he had in store. His gaze never wandered off of Vaud, but searched him up and down. He saw the odds were very much against him, his opponents weapon being a sword, and a deadly one at that. No matter. Az was fast and could handle things like that.

He halted at the other side of the pond and knelt down for a moment. There he took off his shirt, revealing his chorded upper torso and arm muscles, tensed and ready to go. He crumpled it up, and threw it off to the side where it wouldn't be a nuisance to have around. Then he cupped his hands in the water and splashed some water on his face, cooling himself down a bit. It felt refreshing, knowing he was going to need this bit of refreshment in the battle to come. He took a deep breath and stood up. His anxiety levels started to reach their peak. He was itching to get in there and show some blood, make a name for himself.

He stood with his feet spread shoulder length apart, and folded his hands behind his back. He looked to Vaud with a stoic glare in his black eyes, and awaited a start signal from anything. He had nothing to hide, and everything to give. He had already brought himself to his peak, his demon side one with him ever since he knew about it. It screamed in his head to fight, tear, rip apart his opponent to shreds. Az remained still though, containing his energy and anger for the fight.

In the midst of an extremely enjoyable over-lapping triceps stretch the undeniable approach of footsteps made him freeze. Breathing low he was able to hear the feet near as they crunched through the grass and under the woods that enclosed their private arena. Resisting the urge to observe his opponent right away he merely stood, facing the opposing trees, and allowed his opponent to equip their selves while he finished his stretching. The start of the battle was nearing and a feeling of anxiety started to sink in. Soon they would be clashing amidst the nature, both fighting for equal wants, both desiring to move on to the next stage of combat. After a moment his stomach disappeared so he pushed the thoughts from his mind and returned to thoughts of his technique.

There was a soft splashing that disturbed the lake to his left, the only explanation was that of the new arrival dipping into the revitalizing liquid. Perhaps his opponent had traveled a great distance and needed a refresher before combat. It wasn’t an important detail, but anything helped. He could feel a pair of eyes boring into his back and a grin spread across his lips, the figure was already keen to search for weaknesses in him. Might as well give him a proper view, Vaudeux thought, finalizing his stance by first cracking the air from the bones of his neck then turning his head to the side, his body following close behind. The bulk of his shoulder led his lean frame to finally catch glimpse of who he was going to face.

It was a man, a man who rose to around his own height, with a suspicious pair of beady black orbs embedded below his brows. As Jupiter completed his turn he continued to study the combatant, his smirk a constant, while his eyes narrowed during those moments. To his surprise, the man had taken off his shirt to expose his torso to the elements. Vaudeux couldn’t help but notice the core strength rippled in his opponents abdomen. It told him that the man must have been some type of martial artist, for the sight was all too familiar during his travels. Immediately he started to expect a varying of speed, balance, and hand or foot techniques from the man. Assorted techniques came to mind shortly afterward, while his left hand adjusted on the hilt of his short sword so that the blade pointed back to a wall of bordering trees behind him.

Only seconds elapsed as he studied until he realized he need not know more. Mind filled, he then started to step forward, towards the center of the strip of flat dirt, to initiate his readiness. By the concentrated, yet patient, glare his opponents eyes emitted Vaud could still sense the hunger for battle and the need for victory. The Wyrm in the back of his own subconscious held mutual feelings and rather than suppressing the bulk of them, Vaud allowed some of them to seep through, to fuel him. Calmly he stopped in the center and watched himself return his blade to his right hand, admiring the tan sheen of his skin, then his eyes shot back up to his opponent and noticed his stance. With a slight sniff, his voice almost infused with silk, he sneered,

“Are you done?” He pointed the tip of his blade so it angled down between them, motioning with it as he continued addressing his opponent. Then he smirked, his voice in a suggestive rhythm, “Shall we begin?” Assuming that the man would comply to the start of the battle, he stepped back to initiate his stance. His left foot slid back to only a shoulders-width in length, while his weight rested equally on the balls of his feet, yet his heels weren’t as exaggerated as to flex his calves, but just enough to allow his feet to remain nimble and keep his stance stable. After all, he would be swinging a sword, the worst thing that could happen would be to be knocked off balance. Next he raised his blade level with his belt-line while simultaneously pushing out his abdomen. It was a rare formal stance, one only seen in far off lands to the east, but it was what the half-dragon had learned and he needed to stick to his strengths.

Next Jupiter allowed only his right palm to grip the hilt of the short-sword. Once the adjustment was made the blade barley wavered at the loss of a second arm to steady it, but merely solidified the strength in his forearm. His remaining hand rose to his chest and stood angled with his body. The half-breed held it open, the knife-edge portion of his hand facing outward, this was his guard and also the bridge to keep his mind from straying into the only-sword-track of combat. Finally he exhaled deeply, his shoulders relaxing which keeping his joints soft. Flexibility, the final element he would be relying on in the fight against the martial artist Azlateen.

Az put on his own battle-ready smirk as he looked at his opponent straight on. He observed the tight muscles wrapping around Vaud's body, and Vaud's own smirk. It was basically the same as Az's, as they were out for the same thing. Victory. He took a deep breath, and let it out after Vaud prepared the voicing of the battle.

He then closed his eyes, using his other senses to paint a picture of what was going on around him. A small breeze rustled through the trees, a picture of white fog in the shape of his surroundings appeared in his mind. He saw the trees rustling, ripples waving up and down in the small pond, and his opponent standing dead ahead of him. He smelled the cool fresh air, tasted the humidity, felt the breeze swirl around his body. Mentally he felt throughout his body, feeling his anxiety spreading his energy all about his body, his energy bouncing everywhere. Breathing, he focused his energy to one spot in his chest, and exploded it evenly through out his body. His eyes snapped open, a bright twinkle shining in his eyes. A challenging grin arose once again, only this time it became sinister, almost like he was out to kill.

"Sure. You start." He said coldly and stoically, challenging Vaud to begin. He twitched his eyebrows once, as if taunting a little. He took yet another deep breath, and slowly brought his hands around in a wide arc around his head and down into a guard, his left hand forward, his right back. In the process his right foot slid back, and his left foot slid up onto the balls of its toes. His muscles were relaxed, not needing any stretching. Though he knew they would need it afterward, no matter what the outcome would be.

Vaud was already primed for the fight; his senses almost heightened as his body anticipated on what was to come. He knew that his opponent knew this, for it was unmistakable. Now that he didn’t have to worry about his own state of being his eyes fell back onto his opponent, who had stood to match him, yet seemed to be in a state of visualization. Patiently Jupiter waited a few more seconds in silence before he watched the man’s eyes shoot open and twinkle impressively. At once he noticed another sort of aurora about Azlateen. It was if he was hiding something. But Vaud knew that it wasn’t a hidden weapon up his sleeve. For one the man had taken off his shirt and also their weapons had been laid out before hand. The feeling must be one of inner qualities that he was sensing.

Nevertheless, he watched a rather devilish grin spread across his rival’s lips initiating readiness. By the mere shade of the smirk told Vaud that this man was serious; that he wasn’t going to go without a fight. Perfect, Thought the thief as his arms readied themselves for a parry or even a counter after the challenge. Immediately he was surprised by the utterance that stung through the air, ravishing all pleasantries from the atmosphere. Jupiter was unfazed by the command as his eyes continued to search for movement just in case the reply was false and ultimately led him into a trap. Then he saw it. The slight weight shift and progression of his opponent’s arms.

At once he bore into the opposing torso with his eyes, giving his peripherals the desired view of his opponent on a whole. Azlateen had shifted back into an obvious stance to address him in the center of the arena, but he didn’t give the man a spare second to plan a counter and stepped forward, therefore, bridging any gap the new stance had created. Jupiter’s opponent barley had time to lower his guard around to the desired location as the thief was already striking before even his stepping foot could land. The blade lunged forward towards the exposed portion of the martial artist’s abdomen, a limb would be too easy to remove from the space, and Jupiter was one to take any advantage in the midst of combat.

His forearm twisted until the top of his hand was facing the sky. This ensured that his strike was not a weak, drooping lunge that was easily parried. The first attack of the battle and he was already committed to it. It would be the first step towards the momentum of round 1 being fast paced and sweat-stimulating. Whether his attack made contact or not he would soon be side stepping off to the fringe with his back foot to avoid any quick hand-strikes to the head or arms that would have followed. His free hand was a constant guard by his chest during his movements, barley drooping as his weight shifted or foot landed. It was already the first baby steps into the battle and Jupiter was already starting to feel his technique through.

Az saw Vaud's attack coming as soon as he felt his foot touch ground. His grin never left his face, and it never wavered as he had an attack coming at him. He drew in a slight breath, enough to sustain for a few quick bursting moments, held it, and waited for his perfect opportunity to make a quick counter. It felt like time was slowing down for Az as Vaud came his way, fast, dangerous, and unwavering.

His moment came quick, even it felt like forever to Az. Vaud's blade reached him within 4 feet of Az, when Az made his move using his quick reflexes. He quickly took his left foot that was on its toe in front, and aimed a quick snap kick at the blade, knocking it off course. He hoped the blade was knocked off course at least, as he aimed his kick so that the blade swing up a little and go past his head. He quickly followed up with another well aimed roundhouse kick to Vaud's head, jumping with the foot that was once on the ground and now swinging toward Vaud's head.

He had seen Vaud's guarding hand at his chest, noticing it was ready for something like what Az had thrown, but he was willing to sacrifice something like this to see what Vaud would do. He wouldn't know if his kick would make contact until after his landing, as he was quickly drawing equasions in his head to make the perfect landing for his situation. He took all of Vauds movements, the sword, the water below his feet, even the wind into account. This was not a place to lolligag and get a head chopped off. If was to land it right however, whether or not his kick should make contact, it would spin his around, putting him into a good position for a fast back kick. But he wasn't about to waste energy on it until he found out his opponents next move.

Concerned about hand-counters Vaud had left kicks out of the equation and suffered for it. The snap kick nicked him on his fingers that were wrapped around the bottom of the hilt of the short sword. It was enough to transfer the thrust skyward and out of the desired attacking zone. For a half a second Jupiter watched his blade out of anger until he managed to steady it with his throbbing fingers. Squeezing the hilt managed to isolate the pain to only the midsection of his phalanges and allowed him to fully concentrate back to his opponent who had now torqued his back knee around. The knee was aimed high and was coming fast and soon he would be seeing a foot in his face.

If it weren’t for his heightened battle senses he probably wouldn’t have seen the swift attack until it was too late. Yet the half-breed noticed the slight bounce and the knee right away erupting some sense of panic as his mind feverishly decided what to do. Before he could think his body acted, his guarding arm raising and followed the top and the shin portion of his opponents foot to barley glance it up in time. The combination of trained foot techniques threatened to knock him backwards, cause him to lose ground, but Vaud was determined and managed to accomplish the sensible, yet slightly dangerous, response.

As the foot was glanced upward, perilous inches away from his nose, Jupiter moved forward in unison with the block. His shoulder led the way, arm shrunk with the blade as a deadly extension with the tip angled towards the sky, he threw his body weight forward. Since he was already moving around to avoid any of Azlateen’s hand counters he now realized that he was facing the lake. Seeing an expanse of reflected blue sky in the dark waters, he kept forward, his lips pursed in determination. With the aid of his blocking arm he pushed outward with both of his limbs in an attempt to thwart his opponent off balance and splashing into the lake. Since the roundhouse technique required its user to lean back slightly in order to properly torque one’s hip around for a fast, powerful skill, Vaud knew that he had a chance to knock his rival off-balance with one good shove. Which was exactly what the half-dragon’s bulldozer counter was aiming to accomplish.

It was slightly awkward, for Azlateen’s foot wanted to keep going in its intending motion even with Vaud’s block. But whether his hard propel had succeeded Jupiter had used his legs in a lowered stance and was now returning back to normal height all eyes on the target for his next attack. It looked as if he was going to sheath his blade, but astoundingly he released his tight grip and the blade hovered in the air for a fraction of a second. While his right hand, once holding the sword, reached backwards with a bended elbow; his left arm was now shooting out to meet with the sword’s handle. The flat sword acted like a shield once it was caught, protecting the thief’s torso from any onslaught.

While Jupiter’s backhand seemed to be a useless motion, resembling a stretch more than anything, he quickly kicked his right leg back and up. All of a sudden his weight was going backwards as the kicking leg landed and he was in a crouching stance. But the move was with purpose, the dagger he had securely fastened to said leg was now flying up into a practiced hand that was awaiting the familiar weight of the weapon. Without training the blade could have feebly risen and just as easily fallen or have flung out into a unwanted direction. Movements true, he gripped the handle and allowed his foot to quickly land in an obvious back-stance. Elbow first he started to extend his arm outward to initiate his second series of attack to his opponent, towards the water where he landed or not, but still exact. He felt the speed his prompt arm was generating as it climaxed at the end of his throw, at that point he release his dagger and followed through.

It was like a cannon whizzing through the air, disregarding any air that broke its path or its speed. Weight shifting, with the power behind the throw, Jupiter’s right back knee dropped and dug into the earth below. With his chest protruding he kept with the follow through until his arm wrapped around back towards the left side of his body. There he graced his left palm and twisted the Wolf’s bane over until he was gripping it with both hands. All the while keeping his eyes on his opponent a faint wondering if the blade had pierced any vital organs or was floating through the water. His sword returned to the front of his chest, pointing outward and ready for anything.

Az grinned when he saw his snap kick damaged a few fingers weilding the sword, knowing that it was a little bit of worry taken off. His next kick he felt make contact with something, but knew right away it didn't do a thing. The area of contact was right on his shin, rather than on his foot, as his foot was aimed for Vaud's head, not the shin. Soon though he felt his force being thrown in the opposite direction, throwing off balance for a split moment. He let his leg be thrown backwards, and used that force to propel himself into a backflip. He sprung back, landing in a crouch, one knee down, one hand down too, the other hand tucked at his side ready for a jab if he needed it.

Staying crouched for the split second moment it took Vaud to skillfully draw his own dagger, and hurl it at Az. And it came straight at him, fast. Az barely had time to realize he had a dagger coming his way, nevertheless react. He did however notice he threw left handed, which was unusual, but always threw someone off. Moving with his incredible demon speed, he ducked super low, and charged forward just under the knife. But not without a clean getaway. He felt the knife slice down the middle of his back, from the middle to just a few inches down. It hurt like a mother, but he kept moving, his speed never faltering. Though his face twisted into a wince, and soon to a sinister angry looking look as he approached.

He quickly observed Vaud's crouching position, the way he had his blade tucked up just against his chest, the point sticking out like a hot barb. Approaching to maybe 3 feet, he slammed his right foot down into the ground, the ground sinking under his force. He then pushed himself up, and into the air a couple of feet. He spun once, his spinning body reaching above Vaud's crouching head, and came around with a hard fast flying punch with his right hand, aiming once again straight for his head. His motion was out of the way of the still sword, but he might come across a little trouble if it happened to be set into motion. He hoped to some awesome powerful diety that it wouldn't. If his punch was to somehow be deflected or happened to miss, well, his motion would put him into a nice refreshing dip in the pond behind Vaud.

His face had a hardened, determined, yet stoic look on it. It didn't say the cliche, "I'm gonna do my best against you" catch phrase, but it did say, "Ok, we're stepping into the same ring, and do the same thing, but I'm gonna kick your ass at it." In friendly fights he had the catch phrase look on his face, but this was now his time, his time to have some serious fun and go out with a bang. Only one could go on.

Automatically his expression dimmed, cheeks sunken, and lips pursed. The sight of his opponent flipping acrobatically out of his shove put a bad taste in his mouth. Even more so when his dagger hurled into space with a mere scratch across his opponents back. He was always unsatisfied with just dismal results, even so, there was a part of him that was never satisfied with anything he did. Nevertheless he didn’t have time to dwell on the fact that his dagger was now embedded in the earth somewhere, for Azlateen was now charging head-long in his direction. The man was fast, his movements were blurs of color until ones eyes could transfix on pointedly stationary body parts. At once he focused on the head of his challenger, and noticed a small grimace before the expression twisted back to one of anger. He would be coming at Vaud in full strides, his next movements unknown yet fast approaching.

Jupiter stood confidently. Whatever would happen he had prepared enough to welcome any onslaught with an open blade. The tip of his wolf’s bane drew an imaginary line towards Azlateen’s torso and his eyes began focusing on his new target. His mind started calculating his next moves, inching his muscles into their correct positions. Yet, Vaud must have misjudged the space between them for, soon, Az was right over him jumping and spinning with panache. He tried to move, but his weight transfer was too heavily reliant on his back leg and only produced a pathetic shuffle inches back from his first position. Out of instinct, his arms were rising to elevate the blade almost to shoulder level and swayed slightly into place once both of his feet were planted firmly on the ground.

Before he knew it, a balled fist was hurtling out at him from his left peripheral. There was no time for any conscious thought, his eyes were still focused on his target’s torso, and for once he wasn’t paying attention to any on-coming hand techniques. As a last form of defense he started to tilt his head, as if he was trying to look around something that blocked his view. At first it was a haze of motion until the attack made contact. The sound of a large thud from the clout as his jaw was forced upward rang in his mind, the hit just on his neck. Instantly his skin chapped from the contact and his head buzzed unappreciatively. It was a hard blink engulfed in a feeling of slight dizziness, his mind wanting to collapse, but deep within the bleariness he could still feel the hold of some sort of control over his body.

From there he forced his lids open and saw himself falling backwards, stumbling from the momentum of the spinning punch, and turned his shoulder backward. Lazily his body complied, stumbling around and remaining somewhat upright. His arms flailed wildly, sword threatening the space to which his attacker had spun by. At once his arms dropped and he completed his turn to face Azlateen. Jupiter was in luck that the punch had only made contact with his thick neck, otherwise his face would be bleeding, the intricate bones and blood vessels suffering. Yet he wasn’t without suffering. A feeling deep in his throat was one of hollowness like he needed to swallow but there was air lodged in his pharynx. Without delay he quickly brought up his sword at an odd angle, an initial response after the attack to keep up his guard.

Seconds passed where most men would have given in and have fallen back into the earth, the dizziness too much to handle or the damage to the various veins to extensive. It was during these moments did Vaud separate himself from most other men. He persevered and jerked his head to the left. In the back of his mind he heard a small snap as something clicked back into place. The sword wavered in his arms, almost like it was coaxing his opponent forward. Jupiter, on the other hand, was blinking fiercely, washing out the remaining twinges from his head as his body finally settled. Both of his hands were on the sword, his dominant gripping above his other, which was merely there for support and accuracy. It was still a few seconds after the attack when he noticed that his opponent must’ve not counted on his attack to follow through, so he relished his time to regain his footing, for a few moments, before he positioned his sword properly at chest level outward.

Now he wasn’t worried about his adversary’s expressions and guessed that had stayed the same throughout, he picked out another target quickly and acted. With less grace than his former actions, the half-breed filled the space with his sword and allowed the weapon to reach his opponent, instead of his body. The tip of the blade made an upward arch from hip level to cross Azlateen’s shoulder with the power from his guiding elbows lifting forward. It was a stretch, but he wasn’t going to relent after a good blow to the neck. After the first slash he side stepped to his left and brought the blade back around for an encore, mid-slice and parallel to the ground below.

Az's demon side cackled with delight in his mind as his punch made contact to Vaud's neck. It was a good solid hit, and was going to need major chiropractic to set it straight afterwards. Az always hated getting hit in the neck, as it always hurt afterwards for a long time before he set it right. But he always loved giving a good hit on it in a good fight.

He finished his spin, thrown a little off balance from the landed punch. He landed to the left of Vaud, his back to him and not able to see what Vaud was doing. His feet stumbled a few steps forward, and he quickly regained himself. Then he noticed something else that was wrong. He looked down and saw a long gash across his stomach, and bleeding. He growled a little bit, forgetting a lot about flailing swords. Vaud's stumbling backwards and flailing his blade caused his blade to swipe itself across Az's abs just before Az finished his spin. He stood up straight, and pulled it a little wider, and it hurt... A lot. He winced in stinging white hot pain, but kept standing up straight, just to get it over with. He took his time, as Vaud was taking his getting set straight with his hit. He waited for adrenaline to kick in so he wouldn't notice the gash, and turned around.

And just in time. Vaud's blade was coming at him fast, but without as much form and sureness. Az predicted its movements, and saw it heading for his shoulder. He simply turned his body by stepping back a little, and watching it pass by him harmlessly. He observed carefully and saw he was getting smart though by keeping his distance with the blade. The farther Vaud's body was away from Az, the safer it was from a landing punch or kick. Seeing the blade coming back for another swing towards his mid section, and had to think fast at this. He was heading straight for the open gash, again, and he was facing it. Swiftly he bent back at his knees, bending all the way backwards and falling onto the ground on his back. The blade just barely passed over his nose, he felt the wind, and smelled his own blood on it.

On the ground, his ab muscles ached horribly from the open slash across them, and it put him in a little shock on the ground. He had a hard time getting himself to together to get back up, but he remained on the ground. For the first time in this match, he drew his 7 inch long dagger. Finding Vaud above him, he lashed out with a stab with his dagger in his right hand. He aimed for Vaud's sword weilding arm, since it was the closest thing to him, and it would also help out this fight for Az. He lashed out with the stab, and strained his ab muscles to bring his shoulder off the ground to allow the range to make it to Vaud's arm.

As he swung back around Vaud noticed a collection of crimson coating his blade as he brought it back around for another swing. It hadn’t occurred to him that he could have already hit his target, whether intended or not. It was a daring strike, cutting through the flesh and rippling across Azlateen’s smooth hide, but with great searing aftermath. Arms streaming through the air, his blade followed relentlessly towards a seemingly stable opponent. The short sword sliced forward swung like a club and Jupiter could almost see the blood droplets flecking off from its speed. Concentrated, he watched as his blade pelted through the air at empty space. At first he was stunned, thoughts bombarding his mind with explanations. Teleportation? Illusion? Until his keen ears picked up on the scuffle in the dirt below.

Dirt was drifting upward from Azlateen’s landing, splotching various portions across the arena. Jupiter slid to the side immediately as a reaction to his realization, while allowing his blade to retract back into his body. At once his eyes went wild with enthusiasm as he stared down over the bleeding man. All sorts of twisted plans formed to take advantage of the lucky situation. For a brief second he noticed that his opponent was trying to get up off the ground and automatically saw his opportunity. The martial artist seemed to be struggling due to Vaud‘s butchering, so he stepped in and positioned his arms back around to the front of his body to deliver another piercing lunge. Lifting up his arms, he threw his arms downward quickly just in cast his crafty rival decided to deliver a counter kick.

To his immediate horror, and agony, his arm halted as his left palm was snagged by his opponent's unsuspected attack. The wolf’s bane sword had no choice but to stop in mid-thrust, for it was dragging the rest of his body along with it, including his wounded hand. Vaudeux didn’t have to look at the damage to know what had happened, but curiosity and alarm drove him to it. Piercing through the meaty portion of his palm was a long dagger dripping with thick blood like sap. His enviable features twisted into a look of pure fury. Initially, he cursed loudly, his voice in a low rumble that cascaded around the clearing and echoed off into the distance, it was the only thing that took his mind off the pain. It was like a blazingly hot iron had pricked his skin on both sides of entry. The nerves on his hand made it rigid and painful to move. Next, after his exclamation, he began thrashing about, gripping onto his sword with his remaining dominant hand, and pulled his own arm towards him and the dagger embedded with it.

With vehemence he kicked his boot hard towards the fallen man’s rib region while he laid on the ground. The dagger was protruding out from Vaud’s palm and he held it close to his chest, trying to prevent any movement that might further disturb the searing barb stabbing through his extremity. He kicked again with the same foot, merely bending at his knee and throwing his body into the man below him, all the while clenching his teeth with pain. It was a miracle that he could still here the taunting jeers of the Wyrm cursing Vaud’s one-track mind for the mistake. In the back of his mind, beyond any feelings of anguish or taunting, he knew it was his own fault for trying to immediately take advantage of a man whilst on the ground. Though it was a battle for victory and he was sure that, if a crowd was overlooking the battle, he would have been booed. It wasn’t his first attempt at the same feat. He had done the same to another man in a far less important, almost friendly, battle and was thwarted by another opponent who had immediately recognized his foul actions.

The pain was a constant while the dagger stayed rooted in his left hand, projecting outward like an overly-enlarged splinter. It only fueled his rage even further and his kicks ceased only to be brought up to a new formulation of pay-back. At the top of his last kick he raised his knee up until it touched his chest. Vaud threw his weight along with his leg and forward over Azlateen, whether he was still struggling to get off the dirt or not, looking as if he was falling forward. At the last moment he stomped downward, nostrils flared and eyes warped with anger, with his whole weight towards the martial artist’s face.

Az's demon side screamed with joy, and Az even let out his own little cackle and grinned. Though soon his dagger was taken away as he snatched his hand back, and the blade with it. He was glad he gave some good damage, and painful at that. But now he was weaponless again. No matter though, he could just get it back with a quick swipe, cause a little more pain, but he couldn't get the chance.

Wincing in pain from the work his abs did to raise shoulder off the ground, he fell back, breathing hard. That also caused him to release his dagger. He laid there a moment, a quick one, until he felt ribs start to crack. Multiple waves of pain came from Vaud's stomping as he took advantage of Az on the ground. That too was a good way to keep Az at bay, just stomp him while he was on the ground, helpless and all. Az couldn't breathe for a bit as Vaud took a split second longer to execute the next stomp. Az then took advantage of that very small, yet significant moment to turn things back around. Even though he couldn't breathe, he threw his arms up and caught Vaud's falling foot, twisted it and threw it aside. In a jiffy then he rolled away, abs burning, and the rest of his muscles burning from a huge CO2 build up. He rolled just in case Vaud decided to fall on him, or maybe something else. Who knew, because he rolled a few feet away onto his stomach, and rested there to catch his breath.

Laying there gasping for air, he argued in his head with his demon side. He told himself he wasn't able to do it, but his demon side told him he could. His pain and wounds were too much for any human, but his demon side said to just get up and stretch it out and get it floppy. He finally gave in and staggered up, his ribs sending painful goosebumps through his body, his wound already stretched out and numb. Looking to Vaud he slowly put up his fighting guard, and stood still, gazing hard at him, ready for the next attack. His whole body began to feel like lead, and knew it wouldn't be able to carry on much longer with Vaud's blade still ready to slice N dice. Az wouldn't have a problem any if he could just fight hand to hand, he could go forever doing that, but he had to work three times harder to get out of the blades way and keep going without damage. And it looks like it wasn't hard enough.

Az grinned, as he had his breath back, guard up ready to go again. He taunted, "Didn't you know its rude to kick a man while he's down?" His voice was low also, stoic in tone and strong in confidence. Now that he had air back, his wound was numb, and he completely ignored his cracked ribs, and would keep it that way until he was done with Vaud.

Jupiter was so infuriated at first he barley noticed that his stomping attack had be thwarted and his ankle was in danger of being twisted out of its socket. Deciding not to fight against it, he bounded around with his twisting foot by shoving off the ground with his planted extremity. The martial artist had thrown his weight aside like rubbish and, therefore, Vaud had to stumble around slightly in order to prevent himself from falling. After he caught the ground and regained his balance he spun around to face his opponent. At first sight he noticed that the intensity of the battle was taking a toll on the man already. Azlateen’s posture was sagging, obviously cringed in pain, and his torso expanding to allow breath to return.

For a calm second, Jupiter violently thought of hurling himself at his opponent in order not to give him a spare second to rest, but he grimaced as he moved his hand into place and the long dagger sliced through any spare tendons and sparking his nerves. Grimacing he looked back across the distance between him and his opponent. The ground was torn with footwork and streaked with vines of blood. If someone were to pass by without seeing the pair of competitors it would have looked as if something had been slain brutally.

The half-dragon could feel his face weighed down with the grime that came from the arena and motioned to wipe the sweat coagulating at his hairline. He found his own chest rising in falling to a steady rhythm of breaths as his lungs expanded to supply his body properly. While they stood there for a few more seconds, Vaud took the chance and examined his left hand. The hilt protruded upward at him at an odd angle, tempting him to grip it like his own hand was its sheath. He could feel the dampness of his own blood gelling in his palm below, running down then dripping sinisterly to the earth, a crimson rain-drop.

The thief looked rather calm, almost droll, for a man with a dagger entrenched in his hand while he studied it, as if deciding whether to allow the intrusion to stay or not. In reality the pain was unbearable. Every movement caused the sharp blade to move ever-so-slightly and cause more damage to his innards. It was like a concentrated burn spiked throughout that almost made him dizzy. His only defense was to keep his hand in one tight position, isolating the blade until he further decided what he was to do with the nuisance. Before he knew it, his bloodied rival was apparently recovered and spitting out a line to criticize his advantageous tactics. In return to his opponent’s enduring glare, Jupiter offered a devilish grin.

“Oh I’m sorry,” The thief replied sardonically, his voice finding his regular silken tones, yet laced with some sharpness as his recurring injury throbbed. After a mocking half bow he continued, “Maybe you should stop playing in the dirt and fight then, or do you want to ask the judge for a more polite competitor?” He motioned towards an arbitrary group of trees to his side with his sword, observant eyes forward. It was a low remark, but he often found it suiting to release venom via words rather than letting it build up subconsciously. While he finished speaking he relinquished his wolf’s bane behind him, into a make-shift holster that fastened the sword to his back. The move was nonchalant and natural, but it allowed him to have a free hand for a plan he had been formulating to finally rid himself of a burden. He slowly lowered his impaled arm back to his side, his dominant hand now down and forward to chest level, and stepped forward with a final leer, initiating the continuation of the challenge.

Az grinned as Vaud looked at his stab wound on his hand. He knew it hurt a lot, and saw that Vaud did a damn good job at hiding it. Then again, Az was hiding the fact that his stomach hurt, and he felt like he was about to vomit through the slice wound. Well, at least he wouldn't have to taste it...

Az's grin became more sinister as Vaud taunted back to him. His words gave Az more adrenaline, more energy, and more will to fight. Now that his breathing was back down to normal, he could go on for a lot longer, and really could go on longer now that Vaud's blade was put away. He shot back at Vaud, "This is a polite competition for me." Az had been in worse fights, and more unfair ones. There were rough for him, as some huge guys had humongo bastard swords, or someone had someone else join, etc. At least this one had a few rules, and he wasn't fighting against a mage or something like that, and it was an honest one-on-one. Suddenly from there he took two galloping steps toward Vaud, and shot forward a side kick aimed up high for Vaud's face again, letting out a short grunt, similiar to a battle cry one could say..

He shut out all the pain that he felt in his abdomen from the slice, and continued expanding his lungs past what his broken ribs would let him. His training had been too much to let something like that get in the way, and too much was at stake for his ego and pride. His kick used ab muscles, but his adrenaline and will power suceeded in making it strong, fast, accurate, and as if nothing was wrong at all. He was starting to wonder when this battle was over, as he heard someone would stop it after a certain amount of time, but maybe this fight was too good to stop, so they wanted to see a real outcome, rather than judge. Well, Az wouldn't have a problem that if he didn't have a huge slice across his gut and didn't bleed to death first...

He didn’t linger on Azlateen’s words long, for he was sure that an attack was forthcoming. They were merely bantering amidst their vast wounds wasting time or perhaps testing each other to see if the other was ready to keep fighting. Sure enough, the marital artist still had some kick left in him as he started in Vaud’s direction. Mechanically the thief started to turn away, like he was going to run, but his eyes remained on his target over his shoulder. It was a tight maneuver, his chin resting on the point of his shoulder and his arms close to his body. Consequentially, his wounded hand turned over revealing the hilt of the dagger just behind the mass of his body, primed for the taking.

Furtively he reached across his own body, resembling a turn, yet grabbed the handle with a hardened grip. The movement stirred the dagger somewhat, sending sharp pains up his arm, but by this simple action he knew that the dagger had loosened itself in his hand. Azlateen had taken another step at this point; the space between the two competitors now a proper fighting distance. He waited patiently in his feint turn while his grip still escaped notice behind him. Then he saw it. The knee of his opponent was raising up fluidly, prepping a straight side-kick. Vaudeux almost grinned with excitement when he recognized the attack. Why the man chose the slower of the kicks he did not know, perhaps he was aiming to cause more damage than to quickly strike.

Nevertheless, as that knee raised, Jupiter sliced inward to shorten their gap. It was almost like walking into the line-of-fire, but his movements were swift and his knees were bending to lower his body. To his luck the kick was aimed high and he just barley got out of the way. Jupiter watched the leg extend over his head, all the while readying the dagger close to his body. Sensing the right moment he yanked the blade from his hand. It was almost like a weight was lifted, yet the damaged continued as the dagger was ripped outward rapidly. The air flooded into his open wound causing the stinging sensation to heighten past its brink. But the pulling allowed the weapon to shoot through the air with his arm, adding momentum in speed.

Jupiter directed the blade in an upward arch. An amazing display of his own ruby blood spiraled through the air in long cords, relentlessly marking anything in its path. With great precision and timing, the dagger cut through the sky just as Azlateen was in full extension of his kick. The sharp edge was pointed upward and, angled inexorably, slashed at the bottom of his leg striking up from his heel to his calf with his own blade. With luck, perhaps Vaudeux had hit the vast groups of tendons and ligaments of the heel. Whether executed or not, he swung the blade around and turned forward, claiming the space as his own. Almost as if he was daring the man to step into him. As long as he didn’t give the man room to kick he would be all right. The half-dragon adjusted the hilt of the dagger, via light grip and swinging the blade upward, so that he could point the weapon in an upward stabbing motion.

He tightened his whole limb hard as if to pool the blood, but it was to no avail. A rivulet of crimson fell like rain from the hole in his left palm, mixing into the dirt below them with a resulting constancy of mud.

He felt his kick move only through air, and felt only the consequences. His leg was sliced on the inside from just a few inches above his knee up to a few inches near his crotch, and almost a fatal slice at that. It stung like hell, and to make matters worse he had his own dagger coming his way. Az noticed though it was wide, and accurate, it was still somewhat slow, and Vaud's head was within punching range. Vaud took a nasty turn as he ducked, as Az noticed.

He took his forward arm, which happened to be his right, and swung a forearm block and knocked his dagger out of the way, landing the block on the flat side of it. That put the blade out of the way for just a moment, and left Vaud's head still coming his way. Az brought his left arm, his back balancing arm, and brought it around fast in an uppercut to Vaud's face. Its aim was accurate, and if landed, dizzying.

He used the momentum of the uppercut to draw his body weight up and away from Vaud, taking his sliced leg, and throwing himself to the right. He landed on his hurt leg and stumbled, falling to the ground and rolling away a safe distance. Not wanting to get up just yet, he stopped his rolled in a super deep back stance, his hurt leg squatted in, and his good leg stretched out. It was a Tai Chi snake stance, deep and flexed flexibility. He remained there for a moment, his hands on the ground for support, stretching the wound also. He looked to Vaud with a blood-thirsty glare in his black eyes, breathing hard, never wanting to give up.

He never expected this fight to go this far and draw this much blood. He thought it would be to maybe a knock out, and walk away with a few bats and bruises. No, he had to go the whole way, get his stomach and inside hammy sliced open, ribs cracked, and who knows what was next. All he knew was that he was now going to play it defensively, and that was where he got good. Now he would wait until the last moment to strike, so that any accurate attack would be thrown off point. This was where his speed and agility came in handy, no matter how bad the damage was. He'd fought worse, it was just another blood bath for him.