Wurzag had left the banquet with a huge grin on his face. It was possible that his joviality was at least partly due to alcohol consumption, but mostly from the news that he was allowed not only to choose the site of his battle, but also to meddle with it as much as he pleased. As he trotted merrily back toward the tavern the half-orc recalled his own recent battle against Sargtlin Olath in the hellish realm of dreams. The unnerving surroundings had made the fight a great deal more challenging while simultaneously threatening the mental stability of the combatants. Wurzag had never been one for mind games and so he had decided to find an arena that would provide more of a physical challenge for his erstwhile participants. A short time later the green-skin left the tavern and headed for the temple of life, his grin even further magnified though he had not thought such a thing possible.

A short geography interview with Taryn regarding hostile environments had taught the half-orc much about the landscape of Arda. A great deal of it bored him intensely, however the description and menaces of the western jungles had captured his imagination immediately with its exotic flora and deadly fauna.

Or had it been the other way around?

The fact that the jungle was several hundred miles distant had proved a stumbling block until the young mage had revealed the existence of magical portals in the temple of Lothlomendil. These portals allegedly allowed instantaneous travel to anywhere within the known world and quite a few places beyond if the tales were to be believed. Wurzag fully intended to put them to the test.

A short conversation with an attendant later and Wurzag had hesitantly stepped into one of the arcane circles to be whisked away to the other side of the continent in the blink of an eye. He arrived in the Taurerosa face down in the dirt and with Froat on top of him, a thoroughly undignified position for a green-skin magistrate, but fortunately the only things around to see him were birds, reptiles and insects. An immense dragonfly settled on his nose and regarded him through its multi-faceted eyes before lazily thrumming away into the thick air. A half-hour of trekking through dense vegetation, shin deep water and roots as thick as his arm brought Wurzag to a relatively dry clearing that he deemed worthy of the task ahead. Sweating heavily beneath his clothes and armour and gasping in the humid air the green-skin set aside his array of protection and began the arduous task of preparing his battlefield.

Wurzag worked throughout the day, enduring the hourly downpours of rain, the bites of a hundred different insects, the cloying heat and the lizards that continually frustrated his efforts to set snares until he was satisfied with the state of the field. Froat had, under the green-skin's instruction, set up some of the more physically demanding traps and together the pair returned to the centre of the clearing as night closed in to rest and admire their handiwork.

The clearing was ringed with irregularly spaced tangle-foot snares which would trip or incapacitate the unwary warrior, several branch-whips had also been set up further back should the fighting spill out into the forest and Wurzag was particularly pleased with these given how useful they had been in his own recent fight. One had even been lashed with wooden spikes for an extra splash of savagery and the green-skin pitied the unfortunate who stumbled into that one. Froat had managed to set up a single log-swing on the eastern border of the clearing and though the wood was largely rotten and water-logged its impact would be significant. Finally, the north and south sides of the arena had been prepared with shallow pit traps. No more than two feet deep, but covered by large fern fronds, the pits would do little damage to a fighter, but the distraction caused by missed footing could prove costly indeed. Wurzag had a couple of his own surprises prepared to keep the battle interesting, but decided to hold them in check until the combat was underway for maximum impact.

Content that his toil would pay dividends, Wurzag settled down to sleep to await the morning arrival of his gladiators, the dubiously dubbed House of Sin and unimaginatively titled Team Six. The former consisted of the little blonde whom the green-skin had seen at the party, and the half-orc Erokor. He looked forward to seeing his fellow green-skin's performance particularly. The latter team consisted of the distinguished gentleman and a fierce looking warrior who claimed to be a legendary swordsman. Wurzag had never heard of him but then, he reflected, he was not exactly well read.

Morning arrived as warm and damp as the previous day and as Wurzag, now redressed in his full armour, watched the teams arrive he couldn't help but smile. It was going to be a good day.

"Right den," he rumbled to the warriors once they had been guided to the clearing, "I wanna see a gud, clean fight. No back stabbin', no poncy magic and no kickin' each uvver in da nuts." His eyes flickered over the solitary female, "'cept yooz, yooz are allowed to do dat." There was a pregnant pause during which the half-orc smirked with suppressed mirth, "ah fuggit, oo am I kiddin'? kick de 'ell out ov each uvver!"

He gulped a huge lungful of the torpid air and then roared, "FIGHT!" Before scampering into the cover of the forest.

The battlefield was set. The match ready. She listened to the rules, her heart beating. She had dressed a little.. differently today. Her hair was tied back, her dress replaced by a light tunic - still light blue - and made of lite material with many hidden pockets and pouches. Over the top was her winters embrace joining her, causing the cold to have little effect. She was ready. She listened to Wurag, the nuts comment cracking her up, a grin now plastered her face. She walked out into the fighting area, looking for a place where she could stand. Setting her feet, she took in a gust of breathe. Waiting.. often glancing between the men she was fighting, and her trusted teammate. Her heart pounded... Her eyes darting to the strange snares and branches here and there. She would have to watch out for them, no doubt many such traps and additions had been put here. Her breathe became short, her heart thudding, her stomach churning as butterflies graced her lower stomach. She swallowed... waiting...

"FIGHT!" Wurzag yelled, and Stella's winter wand was taken from her pocket quick as a flash. There was no moment to spare in this fight, no moment to let them have the first advantage. She aimed it in the air, taking in a deep gust of breath. Here was her true moment to shine, show them all that she wasn't just some little kid, she was a fighter like all of them! She raised her hand. "Shooting Stars" She yelled, raising her hand so her palm was flat, facing the opponents. A great white light began to take form there, and she smiled her charming smile. Blinding light shot from her hand like fireflies, their destination that of the men stood oposite her. When the last was released, she took a little step back, losing her balance on a vine, righting herself and blushing deeply. She took out her lite sword, exspecting a frontal attack of some sort.

The march through the woods had been singularly uneventful, and Nathaniel found himself uncharacteristically silent during the trek. Although the portal had given them some leeway as to entrance, it was still something that could use perfecting. Nathaniel wasn't used to such forms of travel either, and his gut was left clenching and spasming like a dying worm, hidden under layers of toned muscle and soft flesh. Flesh that could easily be cleaved by his opponents if he wasn't careful. He wasn't fond of having to enter this fight without armor, but his previous training with Nobunaga and even his past encounter with a certain fair-furred lupe had been without any protection save his clothing. Quess had been its name... her name, and what a fascinating encounter it had been. As before he called on that same alertness he had used, and though his journey was a silent one his eyes were always watching. Memorizing.

Did he expect traps? Of course. If you couldn't see the lay of the land perfectly, it was a trap. Nathaniel didn't expect outright snares or bear traps (though he thought he'd seen a few telltales of the former-- further reason for him to be on guard) when he entered or searched, but rather the simple things of nature that could be so deadly. Serpents with fangs laced with a poison that could kill a Dire Cougar, insects that could swarm and kill through their poison, blood-sucking, or simple obscurity of vision. Then there were the changes in ground elevation and branches that could trip one up, and vines that hung low enough to catch your arm or throat if you ran headlong into them without being mindful. These things on their own could be avoided with care, but with a raging battle it'd be hard to keep focus divided. It was best to figure out what there was lurking in this green viel of promised chaos.

Nathaniel's clothing was simple, kept basic so that he could move easily and follow the regulations of armor. He had seen Stella's tunic and wasn't certain whether or not it qualified, but didn't wish to start a rukus. Currently he was barefoot with his hair combed back and wet so that it would remain that way. He had expected the walk to dry the dakr strands, but the hot moist air of the forestry kept it in its just-bathed state. His feet were bare, so that he might feel for any unevenness on the ground and become aware of problems such as steep drops between trees and heavy footfalls leading to traps. In normal footwear he wouldn't be able to feel such things, and even now it was difficult to tell where there had been wild boars trodding earth and where the judge's heavy footfalls had crushed precious plantlife, but the heavy weight of the Uruk combined with armour was enough for him to make some distinction through touch, even if he was visually blind to it. This too was good though, for he need not ever take his eyes from battle.

Woven pants fit his legs nicely, dyed a woolen-green colour. They weren't quite as green as they could have been, but they had yet to truly fade. They weren't much of camoflauge, but it would keep the heat off of him and he could sweat more easily. Even better, their tight nature ensured he wouldn't snag branches or get caught on any of the myriad of gnarled, grasping life that was not quite mobile enough to snare its tougher prey. The green pants may not have been as flashy as black leather, but clearly they were the practical choice. This wasn't a fashion show after all, it was a test of skills. He could have showed up nude just as easily, but he knew that this kind of weather was sure to breed all manner of danger for such unprotected and sensitive areas.

He wore a simple vest, the crest of his team embossed on the chest proudly. It would serve as something of a (frail) barrier between enemy and vital organs, while also boasting proudly of who he was. The vest was green like his pants as well, but looser and more obvious than his pants in that it was not wool. Neither of them were for he would have baked in such material, but it was still in the same family. Lamb skin, perhaps? The crest, dyed hues of black and dark green, matched the clothing perfectly. And while the clothing had been chosen specifically for such a location, the crest was naturally meant to be those colours; in fact, it was hard to imagine it in any other hue.

Where are the ground beasts? Nathaniel could hear the birds chirping happily above, and scampering through trees. But a number of smaller animals on the forest floor seemed to have scampered off. Either through survival guiding them to avoid traps or because the small party trampling their homes had scattered them. It was good on one hand; a number of the more poisonous creatures lurked on the grassy lands. But it was also a warning to remain wary. Even if it was undue caution, he was better off safe than sorry.

A hole in the cieling of the rolling green let in a filter of light, but the trees, not fond of such holes, had attempted to patch it. Near the base of the opening was a number of large wide leaves, easily seven feet in length. They were not quite as thick though, and passing under it Nathaniel had a moment to drink in the sight of the group bathed in green before he too was dyed in the primary color. Their steps were too fast to let the momentary sight last, and soon enough the entire group left and only the forest ground had a circle of light green amidst the darker shades. Nathaniel didn't notice any change in the temperature on the forest floor though, except that it was perhaps a bit more moist. His calloused flesh continued to crush earth under it, his toenails becoming caked and filled with dirt as the feet grew used to the land under them. He had never been so thankful for the battles waged in this land before, otherwise he'd have never gotten used to the slimy sensating between his toes as quickly as he had.

Sooner than he expected but still at an appreciated due, they stopped. Wurzag (he believed that to be the beast's name, though he'd been rather drunk at the party and always found it hard to understand what Orcs and their half Orc brethren said in such gutteral, harsh tongues) had dained to give them the rules, and Nathaniel could only assume this was to be the playing ring. He had no intentions of remaining within it of course, instead deducing once more where he had seen certain traps and trying to figure out where others might be. This place was somewhat levelled and clear, and like the small patch in the forest it was bathed in light. This area was much more clearer though, as the leaves couldn't quite reach entirely around the patches. Spread thinner, it also meant the light was more purer to white and less of that potion-sick green. It simply would not do; it wasn't hard enough to manuever and see around and it seemed far too open to be laced with traps.

"Right den," Uttered the Uruk, and Nathaniel was snapped to attention. His blade, sheathed at his side, swung like a limp puppet. Begging to be grasped by an affectionate master, to be ordered and commanded and utterly used to its full extent. With so loyal a blade, what need did he have of any woman? Shifting only the slightest he let his hand slip onto the hilt fondly, stilling its motion as Wurzag spoke. He cast a glance to Nobunaga Oda, though for what purpose was anyone's guess. He was likely simply confirming that they were both ready, making sure his partner was revved and ready to go.

"'cept yooz, yooz are allowed to do dat." Nathaniel once more regarded the judge, casting only the quickest flicker of blue gaze to Stella and her partner. The ghost traces of a grin were still there, no doubt over the comment of kicking certain weaker patches. He simply kept a determined look in his eye and a set chin, entirely focused on the battle to come. He couldn't afford to appreciate the humor of a surprisingly social Uruk (it seemed a lot of halflings of other races were approachable lately) though, not with the towering beast that was Erokor. Last night he had tried to make his peace with him and retract what he had said, but there would be no such friendliness here. He was going to tear into the other, and he expected nothing less than the same. Hoped for no less.

"FIGHT!" Roared Wurzag, and out of the corner of his eye Nathaniel saw him scamper off, whipping out his longsword in one fluid motion. He didn't look to Nobunaga or Erokor, didn't have time to choose a tactic; Stella attacked brutally quickly and Nathaniel only had time to react. "I'm afraid not!" He hissed, his voice a husky breath that wasn't quite the roar of an Orc but was as close as a human might get. With a simple move he pulled himself into a half crouch and his arm infront, as if praying. Then his left arm shot out to the side, swung like a mighty hammer. One could almost feel the energy shoot through his arm, and the spell cast dissappeared as if it were no more than a meek kitten. The first spell had been cast, and he had been quick to counter it with dispell.

Wasting no time he let the momentum of swinging his arm carry him into a half turn, then slammed both heels against the grassy ground and lunged at Stella from the side, sword poised. In a drunken stupor or violent fury he would never harm a woman; at least, not one that appeared so close to human. However, in the thirst of battle he was logical and precise enough to perform such actions, could rationalize it and knew that the consequences were nothing when it came down to it. He had slaughtered man woman and child before, and he would undoubtedly do it again. It was a shame such a young and pretty girl had to take so brutal a lesson, but his life's experience had ironed in the rule to never back down no matter what you saw or felt. Hearts were meant to be torn, beating, from the enemies chest; not listened to. At least, not here. Perhaps that female lupine had been right in accusing him of lacking any soul or heart; it was true enough once he drew his blade.

Yet even still, he was ever aware of pressing dangers, eyes wide for traps. Logical and brutal, concise and bloody. It was no wonder he had been a soldier or interrogator, only that he had ever been relinquished from such charming duties.

The festvities lingered on in a monotonous drone. The novelty of meeting another of his kind soon wore off and once more Erokor felt the ebon shadow of isolation overcome him once more. A feeling that grew more and more homely each passing hour. Once massive plates of succulent pig and geese were consumed and gradually they fell, ever to be lost to those that would absence such a fine display. The dancing and cheering finally slowed and the room about the beast was a blur.

Mead slowly overcame him. The amber liquid did not quite settle right in his stomach. It sloshed as a sea of acidity and ale, disorienting the orc to the point of fatigue. Fatigue became incomprehensive thoughts, and those transferred into a troubling sleep, one filled with dying echoes of a once fabulous occurance. He dwelled upon the most odd thoughts, why he imagined the Guardian of Fire fighting a beast of molten lava he had no answer. Perhaps contrasting perceptions had meshed within his-- or he would not think about it and let the pandamonium consume him.

The night was young, and the Uruk awoke with a start. A tinge of pounding rung in his head as he looked upon the scene. In the minute amount of light the moon could muster shadows of debris painted a ghastly image. The hall was but a shell of its former glory. Nobles went home about their business in anticipation of the news of the first round and the competitors no doubt went to discuss their battle strategy. A fine idea, but it would take a bit more effort to lift the limp beast from his throne. He managed though, and stepped hesitantly upon the crunching of what seemed to be glass. A nice cut wounded him as he set out to find Stella.

Filthy humans and their parties. . .

Blood-stained footsteps glimmered and marked the tracks of Erokor. They lead outside, down a winding path until they stopped. The feet were faint now, but an expert tracker would have inevitably had little to no difficulty managing to tell that the orc resided in a quaint tavern. The faint letters, "The Ebon Spool" were carved into a wooden block just above the entrance. Here, two of the most unlikely specimens gathered, huddled in a corner and discussing tactic in secret with what little information was available. For they were minor persons, really, lost to the sea of fame the three Guardians gained when stepping into their natural roles as gladiators always prepared for pitched combat.

This time, though, this time, Erokor would seek to do everything he could to wipe the smug grin off of those who sought to impale him on the first strike. His opponents would be in for one hell of a fight tommorow, win or lose, limbs would be lost and serenades of agony would drain out whatever noise the terrain that surrounded them would bring. A pleasant thought. When all was said and done, the Uruk fell into a fine dream, one that involved a conglamerate of bloody human slaves kneeling at his feet, begging for mercy and not to become the next meal.

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The trek through the jungle served no better an event. Humidity grew and expanded in every crevice, sweat that was not the Orc's own slipped silently against his skin as he trudged through the terrain. Admittedly, from all his past experiences trailing through this jungle, this environment was alien to him. It seemed too quiet for natural causes. Something was amiss among the battlefield, as if some beast had stirred in this area planning something. The magistrate, perhaps? An odd answer that brought up even more queries. Erokor quickly dismissed the notion, he'd stay on a more careful guard was all, no need to get tense about happenings that weren't. Best to keep focused on the battle that was to be. It angered him, though, and he grew tired of waiting. His pace quickened, whether or not his partner followed suit mattered little to him. He would set the tone for the group.

The mighty clawed toes dug through the uproots as if they were wet paper, dirt kicking up in his stead as he hurried down the path. His eyes gleamed a fiercsome that was hidden at the party. No longer did he contain himself. He would act as his true title of barbarian and rush towards the path set for him with great strides. His yellowing fangs glared against the bright sun and he grunted with each passing second. Soon, very soon the destination would be reached. Once it had been, the Orc sought to waste no time.

Not long after the Orc's massive fists drove through a thicket of bushes and he stumbled onto a massive clearing. There, their magistrate awaited them, simply standing there as if he was quite innocent to the death trap that lay before him. It became quite obvious that this match would be no simple contest of skill. Each would fight for their lives against two fronts; the harsh wild and the opponent's themselves. No doubt the magistrate had many a trick up his sleeve to make the battle amusing for himself. Erokor would note this, and took a careful examination of his surroundings before the others joined him.

Indeed, many things seemed out of place, but that could have simply been an illusion played by the already unnatural gap in the thick of the forest. There was little time to worry about that now. He rejected his opponents now, and went to stand by his partner, her size dwarfed by the massive frame of the Uruk. Not one for verbal communication during conflict, he remained silent as did many of the others. Silence was a nice environment to breed anxiety. If one thought the air was thick was the anticipation at the party, they were truly naive to the experience one gained seconds before a battle. That initial gong that sent a message towards both combatants to fight to the death was the hardest part. Everything else fell into place, as if the movements were natural and the frozen fear melted away into confidence.

Erokor viewed the other Half-Orc as a somewhat interesting character. How could one so like his own be so unlike him at the same time. His alignment screamed the tolerance of man, but his appearance and heavy accent marked the common Uruk traits. Perhaps society did truly have an influence on what sort of a person one became. No doubt the logic applied to Erokor, bred only to kill and instead was marked as a vile fiend. Buuutt, that was life, and one chose their fate and how to handle what was dished to them. If the Uruk was forced to take the life of a man without conscience doing so then so be it. Remorseless, uncaring, it defined Erokor, he would play no false cards in this battle, what was being given was what you could typically expect to recieve. And so, when Wurzag stepped upon the two parties and eyed them briefly, the Uruk prepared himself.

"Right den," he began, acting as any official would. "I wanna see a gud, clean fight. No back stabbin', no poncy magic and no kickin' each uvver in da nuts." The joke was apparent, and he waited for Wurzag to finish, a grimace plastered upon his features. "'cept yooz, yooz are allowed to do dat." Statement towards Stella of course, and all finished by him pretty much recalling what he said.

It was the prelude to the moment of truth, and proved a critical point for both sides of the opposition to prepare themselves. The judge took his breath before the plunge and the mighty roar caused the very foundations of the Earth to quake, or it had otherwise shaken Erokor.

"FIGHT!"

The beggining was evident, marked by Stella's hasty tactics. Erokor scowled at this, as it gave the enemy a chance to guard and counter, giving them initial control of the battle. It gave Erokor the crucial information required to take this battle, however. Nathaniel could dispell anything that was thrown at him. A fine weapon against casters, but it could be beaten. Whether or not the man had more spells in his arsenal, the beast could not conceptualize. However, realization that Nathaniel had made a very frontal attack had been clear. Well, it was from the side, truly, and proved a rather sticky situation as Stella stood between the two.

What was an orc to do? Well, for starters, it was to take account Nathaniel's partners actions and the consequences of Erokor exposing himself to any suprise attacks. Then of course, he had to realize how he could use his partner's own abilities to his advantage. Fundamentals of cooperation, all discussed last night no doubt.

With a great shift, the beast rotated on his heels which acted as an axis, spinning him into a position more fitting to contact Nathaniel as he made his lunge towards his stumbling partner. The temptation of vulnerability was inevitably to great to pass up and Nathaniel had taken the bait. The attack was timed so that the lunge had gained enough momentum that stopping an affront by a rather speedy Uruk was nigh impossible.

The Uruk met the man by taking a diagnol bee-line route to intercept the lunge towards his own partner. Erokor was agile on how he handled himself, and suprisingly the lumbering frame moved at a deadly speed to combat Nathaniel's. The beast's blade snapped from its sheathe in an instant and almost immediatley it was sent to crash downwards upon the other's blade with a great emphasis placed upon it. Should they connect, the sheer force of downwards momentum upon a flimsy standing position would inevitably force the other's weapon down if only for a second. It was really all that was required, for in conjunction with the forced parry, the knee opposite of the hand his sword was held in (left knee) was sent directly en-route to the side of the man's face.

As an added bonus, the tension that was to be created by the clashing of blades would give the Uruk enough leverage to jump as per the knee. A position that inevitably gave Erokor the advantage. If succesful, Nathaniel would find himself flying off to the side with a bloodied broken jaw.

Seconds, days, months, all spent preparing for the day when bone meets steel, and steel meets blood. A time when cries of war shall meets the ears of the deaf head on. When bloodshed became a sport all enjoyed rather than a crime. Times when one can completely dismember someone head to toe, and bath in their blood, and not have to serve harsh punishment or death from it. This was the moment in every body’s life that watching a man kill each another man was accepted. Blood cascading down the walls of a arena where a man was just pierced though his heart and is now suffering to live. Cheers of the crowd would be electrifying and breathe taking, but so was taking the life of another man for the pure fun of it. This was the time for the tag team tournament that was being held where only the best of the best came. Two fellow guardians also felt the need to join this tournament, no worries though; it only signifies greatness in the hearts of humans.

The day before the actual tournament, there was a get together of all of the warriors in the fray. Everyone plus others all entered into this rich place where most of the commoners there were just wealthy. We lived in a time where wealthy lives along warriors and the poor lives along the wild animals. This was right in the eyes of everyone. Why bother trying to show that if it was such a minor thing among the world? Besides, it didn’t matter too much with nobunaga for he was only at this highly formal occasion to meet his partner and scope out the other fighters in these matches.

That night at that, so called party, his very own partner was busy drinking away the thoughts of the battle to come, which was not a bad thing at all. There was no need to think about fighting all the time, unless you were like Nobunaga. So many people think of nobunaga as a weak, inferior person due to his quite nature. Once met on the battlefield, their entire perception of him changed as the sword he owned gutted them through their chest, or heart, and even that tiny place where most men value so much. Nothing mattered, if one was hurt, and in pain then nobunaga was quite fine with it.

Nobunaga left that dishonorable party clear eyed and sober. Nobunaga did not poison the body the day before a battle on this caliber. His partner might be different but that was nothing bad towards his partner, it was perfectly fine for Nobs had found a trust in his partner that he only found for one other person in his life. Nobunaga trusted this man enough to place his life in his hands if needed, and it was proven for a fact that the feeling was mutual. Most of the teams here are just mixes of strong people together, but did they really had a warriors bond? Were they ready to help defend their partner win or loose the match? That was the question most had to ask themselves, but more than likely, they didn’t.

That same night Nobunaga got early word on where his match would be held at. He was also given a heads up for traps, who was supplying this information? Can it be trusted? Let’s hope so because nobunaga had made his way for the rain forest that was in Taurerosa. Hopefully that information was correct for nobunaga began his long hike there only to learn that there were portals opened that would cut the time in getting to the forest in half.

The day of the tournament had finally arrived and nobunaga was already in the forest. He was lost and angry. It was still early so he had a quick time to rest, but between the horrible animals he had seen and the lush vegetation that spewed poison out of holes in their leaves, who would trust anything of the sorts? Peaks of light poured into the forest but it did nothing for nobunaga. It didn’t stop him from being lost and possibly late. A drop of sweat did a line right down the cheek of Nobunaga as if he was crying. This forest was highly expansive yes, but the endurance of nobunaga proved to be more than this forest could handle.

Nobunaga didn’t unsheathe any of his weapons; instead he just hiked through the lush greenery enjoying everything about it none the less. Wearing only a black training outfit which was loose on him for high mobility and strapped to him were all sorts of weaponry. Nobunaga came prepared for this fight.

As nobunaga walked he could easily pick out traps and hazards throughout the forest. This brought many tactics to his brain which he was certain his partner had already noticed. Just as he was thinking about it, his foot got caught in a vine. The purpose of this trap was to catch the leg and raise the poor idiot into the air by the strung up foot. This would not be nobunaga’s fate. Using quick reflexes, nobunaga drew his claws and hacked the vines that started pulling him before he could even rise two feet off the ground. Some trap that was.

Who ever thought of these traps was a genius to put them here. This would make everything that much harder which was perfectly fine with nobunaga. As a measure to make sure something like that last trap didn’t occur again, nobunaga reached into the side of his training outfit and pulled out a shuriken. The shuriken started to glow bright red at its tips and the dragon imprinted on the middle of the shuriken glowed red as well. It was nobunaga’s shuriken sentinel. With one flick of his wrist the shuriken was off spinning fast and encircling its master. The shuriken destroyed minor greenery with ease as it sliced through the leaves and vines like paper.

Nobunaga walked a few more minutes in this manor as he cooled off and regained his energy. Merely walking seemed to calm him now. The shuriken doing all the work in clearing the path for him as he simply walked through the path it cut. He made it to the clearing where he found his partner and the other team mates. He had no idea that the people he would be fighting today was a young looking female and one ugly thing. The magistrate didn’t look much better but oh well, he was here to fight, not judge one on their appearance.

Nobunaga walked and stood next to his partner and eyed the competition. The big ugly one looked like he could rip a hole in someone with brute strength but that’s more than likely all he had. Nobunaga had strength, maybe not that of a orge, or a orge looking thing, but he had two swords that could carve a picture out of flesh if he so needed. What he lacked in strength he had in the skill with a sword. He was a genius when it came to swordplay. Two devastating swords, and the fact that his main weapon focus was swords, proved him to be highly skilled. Let’s see his opposition try to match that skill with swords.

Words flew out of the magistrate’s mouth but Nobunaga listened to nothing. He stayed still, standing tall and firm like a wall, and eyed his giant ugly friend. Nobunaga wanted to carve his name in the heart of this monstrosity. That would be easy seeing as no armor was allowed. His blades can slice through metals if swung hard enough, so having no armor and nothing but open flesh, what could stop his swords from ripping through the flesh?

As the words of the magistrate fell upon deaf ears, actions quickly started. The young female warrior had casted a spell that would do nothing for with a nod from his partner, it got canceled. Nathan had went on the attack early, which was exactly what was planned. Nobunaga and Nathan had knew that these two would fall for something so simple for the giant beast was now making a charge straight for Nathan. Nobunaga sat tight for a few seconds and carefully planned his attack. He drew his demonic sword, which had a skull on its hilt and actually took the appearance of a blade from the pits of hell itself.

Once nobunaga was sure that this brute was perfectly heading towards Nathan, nobunaga made his move on the brute, time to kill. Nobunaga was faster than everyone imagined as he closed the distance within matters of seconds. The brute drew his sword and planned an attack on Nathan, but that sword got intercepted by the demonic blade owned bt Nobunaga. That attack wouldn’t do anything, even though the strength of the brute showed as it almost knocked nobunaga off balance. Just as he blocked the sword with his demonic blade in his left hand, the brute had lifted a knee that was headed right for the face of Nobunaga.

With a quick raise of nobunaga’s right hand he was able to block the knee of the brute with his forearm. The blow knocked him back about a half of an inch but this was nothing. Nobunaga snapped his fingers and with that off went his shuriken headed straight for the heart of this brute. With that in movement, Nobunaga made a quick fluid motion on unsheathing his other sword with his right hand.

His other sword was that of pure greatness. The sword was black and gray and it was constantly surging lightning through the length of the blade. Lightning also jumped off of the blade striking minor places close by but that was not all. The blade was laced with a deadly poison which could kill in a matter of hours. The killing wouldn’t be the best part, it’s the fact that the person would grow weak very fast after being injected with this poison. The poison was magically injected into its victim by merely scratching the person with the blade. Furthermore, the lightning that surged through the blade and jumped off the blade was also laced with the same poison. If nobunaga came close to hitting anyone with the sword and missed but the person still got caught with the lightning, then the same poison effects that the blade would give, would be injected into the person from just the lightning.

The demonic blade also had the joys of slicing through nearly all metals and if it hit a good aligned character, the wound would freeze. A body freezing a wound would cause tremendous pain and also tons of health hazards. The perfect weapons for a masterful swordsman.

After drawing his lightning shadow blade, Nobunaga made his move. The shuriken was already close to the man and with a small motion, nobunaga swung the shadow blade at the arm of this brute. Nobunaga was not trying to kill quick but more or less, weaken him to the point he was useless in battle. Since the two of them were already in close quarters, the effect of the blade or a shot of lightning hitting him was a lot higher than normally. After the skill swing of the blade to the arm he lunged it forward at the brute’s stomach aiming to hit vital organs but still keep him alive. He had better act quickly or the swords poison would reign supreme early in this fight. Keeping this attack going nobunaga brought the Demonic blade close to his body in an attempt to stay in some defensive state while thrashing this ugly being to the point of no return. The battle had already been won, the dumb brute just didn’t know that yet.

What started out looking like a normal attack by Nathan ended up being a counter flank by the two of them. They fell for it hook, line and sinker and now he had to pay the price. He fell directly for the trap they set and it would work perfectly. The only thing left was the young girl to save him but Nathan and nobunaga had went on such a heavy barrage, she had better think of something good, for Nobunaga had already planned his next attack which would be aimed directly for her. This fight was on its way, and the winners were already pre determined. Let the blood shed fully begin.

She watched as her spell had been deflected, and her eyes narrowed. He was fast... too fast. She made a mental note to keep an eye on this one, to watch her back at all times - well... watch HIM at all times. After regaining her balance from the stumble she had time to catch Nathaniel from the corner of her eye. He was more sneaky then she had thought. He lunged, a fire in his eyes and and aura or some one who would not go easy on her. She didn't no whether to fear him or thank him, but now was not the time for either. Eroker jumped to her aid, disarming the attack some what. She used that time to make her escape. She ran, her lithe frame allowing her to move quickly like a passing blurr, dodging things that looked like more traps. She was always careful.

she was close by Nath, but not from the other two. Erokor and Nobunaga could be seen, and she wished her alley the best of luck. She would aid him - right after this. By now she had secured a good distance away from Nath, and so regained her motive. raising her barbed staff in the air above her she took in a deep breathe, yelling the words that would surely help her. "magnetopause!" A slow, almost see-through force field surrounded her, and Stella grinned, her almost devil like side shining through. Raising her barbed staff, she used the Winters Embrace cloak to her advantage, covering the staff in a sheet of solid ice. She lunged at Nathaniel, the spiked mace balls aimed at his face. She was't one who liked violence, but what had to be done would. She would not let this magic Field go to waste.

She aimed blows, her anger rising. She wasn't usually an angry person either, but here she was, trying to prove herself to a group of people she would most likely never see again. Wielding this staff gave her an extra advantage, she could cast spells WHILST attacking. That thought remained in the back of her mind as she took her anger out of Nathaniel. In truth, she felt bad. This man had shown her a kindness, treated her like her age, but she couldn't let her weakness show. She hoped her partner was doing okay.

Lunging at his neck, she followed through tilting it upwards, aiming for his jaw. A grin lit up her face, as she remained herself untouchable to the man. She swung the light staff around, and aimed another frontal attack. Strands of her hair came loose in long bunches, spinning around as she attacked the man. She didn't have time for such petty things. Her staff moved fast, as adrenaline kicked in through her. Blood would most likely stain her weapon tonight, but then again, that could not really be helped.

Nobunaga had come through, and Nathaniel felt a swell of appreciation as he barrel-rolled out of the way so Erokor's weapon met the steel of Nobunaga's instead. He lunged up quickly and backed off from the two battling warriors, as Nobunaga looked like he had it under control and Nathaniel would only make a nuisance of himself. Carefully and ever alert he moved from the two and let his eyes find Stella. His ears listened for the ringing of steel as Nobunaga kept Erokor occupied, just so that he wouldn't get jumped from behind. Stella had moved some distance away, and Nathaniel was intent on finishing her off. Although he held no mercy for her, he was thankfully less brutal than the other two males and intended to finish her off swiftly.

"You should submit. It shall save you energy." He commented darkly, not even running at her. Nathaniel walked, his pace even and entirely confident as plantlife and insects crushed under his feet. In this weather and after the physical lunge he'd just rolled out of, he currently looked much more savage than usual. His hair was messy and pointed in all manner of direction, his clothign already beginning to stain. His footprints left crushed shells and the golden-brown blood of insects behind, smeared upon thin slivers of green that made not a whisper as they were crushed. His dark eyes had caught something of interest though, and a slow smirk snaked across his features as she called up her spells. "Well now, here's a change in pace."

He straightened his blade, preparing to swing-- and stopped. A slow field seemed to spread about Stella; he couldn't quite make it out, but certain patches glinted the green fauna wrong or caught the light incorrectly. Some form of shield? He didn't have time to think about it,, suddenly she was lunging at him with her barbed staff. Nathaniel dodged the initial attack, moving to the side. He caught the second swing with the end of his sword, and tried to force her weaponry up. He felt a cold chill through the steel of the blade though, as if her weapon was breathing ice. Even in this humid heat, he didn't want to know what would happen if it struck him. The cold in this heat alone would be a horrible shock to the system, and no doubt leave him stumbling.

Yet still he carried on, parrying the blows and shoving the full weight of his shoulders into it. Stella was stronger than he'd anticipated, possibly even stronger than him. But hid timed precision and training allowed for him to force all his bulk of 210 pounds into it and, with grinding teeth and a grimace, force her weapon away from his body. She also had the advantage of being smaller than him, but he was fast and he had trained for almost his entire life for this sort of combat, he knew what to expect by now and how to avoid certain deathly blows. The field was also no doubt doing its job; every swing was a scream of his muscles, the blade not willing to cross the barrier in and mar her pale skin. Even the blows to her staff were kept high upon it, aimed for the sharp mace-like area of the frozen stave so that he had to strain against less of a foe. He kept a good distance between them, and met her swings with the ease only a man of many battles would be able to. A thin stream of sweat ran down to his brow, and then; she miscalculated.

By swinging her staff upwards at his jaw she had assumed he would wait around long enough to take such a harsh hit. With the considerable distance between them (he had ensured their weapons only just touched, to keep his own tender muscles and bones from being ravaged by the spell due to faulty steps) he was able to see it coming, and drew back his own blade just as she pulled back her own staff to slam into his jaw. However as soon as her arm began to ascend forwards once more he quickly dodged to the right, throwing his sword with all the strength he could muster. He had tried to bait her as far to the eastern corner of this place as he could. A place just before the tree lines really started, before the growth and natural creatures threatened worst fates than the one within this ring.

He didn't know it was east. He wasn't even aware whether or not he had noticed it when coming her or during the tussle, so scattered was his memory at the moment. All he knew was that chasing her this way had been for one sole reason; to ensure that the harsh THWIIK! of the sword hitting the mark was followed by a deep and resounding whoosh. A massive log rumbled out, and though it was rotten and looked easy to break given practice, if Nathaniel had timed it correctly its impact on Stella would send her flying. It was a mere moment after she had been swinging after all, the momentum should have promised a victory. He had learned never to rely on such things though, and so as soon as he saw the massive black and brown thing coming he hit the ground. His knees stung from the impact and he felt the small of his back skimmed by it. A flare of pain, that promised bruising come the morning.

Then, with scattered brown and orange sheddings, the field was once more in view and not hidden by a dark shadow. Nathaniel quickly scampered forwards and up, the swinging log following. He didn't turn to see if he had hit Stella, didn't have time to. Instead he raced into the forestry, grasping his blade as he went. The game had just gotten considerably more dangerous, and thankfully the pounding adrenaline kept him from whining over his skinned knees and bruised backside. It could be worse; so, so much worse. He was thankful just for the simple gift of non-metal traps, and knew now that if he was to defeat an opponent with such protection he would certainly need to make use of all the ones he could find.

A lizard hissed somewhere off to his left, before blending into the greenery like the human. It had been wise to wear green today after all.

Erokor's will was not to be taken lightly, his ferocity being a crimson flame that emanated outwards in terrible gouts. Not one step faltered upon his approach as intentions were as straight as an arrow, but susceptible to change with the coming wind. Peripheral vision recognized that wind, Nobunaga Oda. A pity really, for as the other came at the Uruk with unnatural swiftness he had to mask a false perception, that of surprise. His eyes widened and his pupils shrunk, ebony plates gilded with gold. For a moment, there was a still calm about the air, a distortion of both blurred figures. The slow anticipated the epic clash of both titans.

"Clang!" the bell tolled once for the match and the interlocking metals greeted each other with gritted embrace. Demonic ebony met pale silver, the shockwave resulting shuddered the Uruk and the composition of his frame relied heavily on its base. A right knee groaned in dismay as it buckled inwards. Erokor's frame spun about the weighted knee, alleviating the pressure, a simple movement which emancipated a great burden, also causing the swung left knee to follow suit. Undoubtedly the feint cloaked with solid conation would bypass Nobunaga's attempt to protect his partner, a priority much higher than simply dealing damage to the Uruk.

The opportune moment reached ascension. Collision would occur under the simplest of circumstances. Nobunaga's attempt to defend was in vain for imminence became null. Erokor's knee, with a sharp arcing curve now leaned parallel to the others forearm. Breath was suspended for a short moment, thigh brushed warily against arm before a crucial contest was made. The distance was shorter, shorter with each passing moment, thicks globs of sweat poured against the Uruk's skin, and the strain of the other to witness his own crippling would be incomprehensible. The final tick timed out, defense was futile.

"Thhrrkk", the battering ram shattered glass, impeded only by muscle. A blessed hit as so would stir some initial movement, more likely the sliding back of the right leg. Emphasis was drawn upon the impact and the savagery was not at fault here, for bone sought to separate bone. Thin bones were ribs and fragile too. Relentless attacks as so were tempted to separate these toothpicks of the frame, parting them from each other in shards that would pierce vital organs. Reactions to such notions were not attractive and invoked gagging of the worst sort, that of which blood spilled from the mouth, symptom of internal bleeding. Effects were relative, however, and the severity relied heavily on the incurred. Erokor fully understood this concept, the flaring tempo that were his actions never skipped a beat from that moment onwards.

A sliver of moment allowed a small scrutiny of Star's situation. It came as a flash, pupils dashing to the side of the head while the two massive beings struggled to do anything to each other. The pepped blur of blue innocence was taking an offensive, swinging her blunt weapon to do any sort of damage. Anything following could not be deciphered. Thoughts transitioned into instinct and the battle began anew. Movements conjuncted in coordination with the first assault, the offensive front prepared its final maneuver.

Fortification relied heavily upon disarming the other. Erokor's left palm zipped forth as a bullet, clenching the other's wrist as it chanced upon the hilt of the blade. The beast's knuckles turned an eerie white, strength flooded into each tendril as they pumped against the thick bones that jutted from the wrist joint. The move had only one purpose, to hyper extend their other's phalanges beyond his own will and relinquish his grip upon the blade by means reflex. Now that the initial threat was nulled, potential opposition had to be neutralized. It came in a small spinning package, though, and spoke great volumes in its lethal course, if only for where it was positioned to strike.

This was no ordinary shuriken. It was one that moved at the will of the user. Deadly when mastered and even deadlier when implemented. Minimal thought processes went into countering this. The struggling longsword slid off its rival, and instead refocused its power upon intercepting the course of Nobunaga's final affront. The arm flexed at this mighty sweep of a blade, great fervor anticipated the impact. Inwardly did the great beast step to compensate for the lack of open space, there he'd snuff the candle of Nobunaga's hope out. "Tnnkk!" the bell rung twice, the tides shifted.

Bending, writhing, simply put, stepping opposite that of which went a certain way had slight repercussions. Nobunaga's arm, still in the death grip of the Uruk would slam against the meek joint that was the elbow, forcing it against axles that provided leeway for movement and finally snapping from induced pressure. One could imagine the sound relative to a festive firecracker. The spasmodic popping would prove more to just disassemble the arm out of place but put it beyond use. It was the way Erokor worked. Needless to say the knee that would strike the ribs was long since stable upon the ground, allowing Erokor to make a solid sweep with the right foot towards Nobunaga's, tripping him.

The sum total of the combined attacks if Erokor struck true? Broken ribs and an arm, internal bleeding, and lying vulnerable on the ground. In this case scenario, the Uruk's longsword would trace dangerously about the other's throat, not hesitant in any manner.

"Swordmasta? Pff' joo be fet do surve me azz a maid"

One word can describe nobunaga’s thoughts as he entered into battle with this ogre or what ever the hell he was. His speed was for some odd reason, extraordinarily fast, and his reflexes matched Nobunaga even though Nobs had trained for many years to achieve his state that he was in. Nobunaga was muscular but not overly muscular where he lacked speed. Nobunaga was not a normal human. Well anyone who had a small portion of Elvin blood running through them was not normal. Nobunaga had very little though so it only gave him longevity and that was it, none of the normal abilities of elves did he obtain. But this…thing…was able to match nobunaga with speed and reflexes somehow. How was not a quest that could be answered! Maybe he was lucky? Yea that was it. All luck, for there was no chance that the beast was able to stop his attack like this.

~Damn~ was the only word that Nobunaga could conjure up to describe his feelings towards this event. Nobunaga was quickly observing the movements of this fat beast as it seemed as if time had slowed down. Sweat drops rolled down the face of nobunaga and fell to the ground where it splashed into other tiny water drops upon contact with the lush green ground. Nobunaga’s breaths were short and almost stagnant. He was breathing in short intervals as an attempt to keep his body kept with oxygen but also not to exert too much energy just breathing alone. A process that allowed him to conserve the tiny bit of energy that would be used breathing, but convert it into normal energy that could be used energy to be exerted in other ways. A process that took training and mastery of to be used effectively

Time was not slowed in any way, it was just Nobunaga watching everything in front of him tightly. Every muscle and line within the beast’s face, arms, legs, torso area and everywhere else was inspected at the fastest of all motions. One thing that Nobunaga noticed was that the beasts weight seemed to shift slightly and his leg muscles seemed to be tensing up as well. This could only mean an attack of the sorts. According to how the two of them were, and how each was positioned, it could only mean an assault on a section on the lowerer region of nobunaga.

His insight was right on as he braced his arm to try to block the knee only to find that it was not aimed for that exact spot. With less than a split second left nobunaga braced his entire body for a heavy impact. The knee crashed into the ribs of nobunaga hard and fast just as nobunaga braced for it. The knee caused a tremendous wave of pain to over come the body of nobunaga, but thanks to his endurance abilities and the fact that he braced the hit, it did nothing internally but maybe bruises a bone or two, but nothing that could permanently end this fight. It would take a lot more force to break through the frame of nobunaga. Yes he was human, but the fact that he was well trained served as a way to alleviate some of the damage done to nothing. A normal, poorly trained person would take the hit and be near the end of his rope, but thanks to the well built figure and the well trained frame, nobunaga would live to fight.

Pain shot through nobunaga like a bad sickness. Just because he was able to take the hit and still move about normally did not mean it didn’t hurt, for that knee to the side hurt like hell. It was obvious that it hurt, but then again, any attack like that to anyone would hurt a lot.
Nobunaga relaxed himself and calmed his mind so that it didn’t show too much that the pain was fierce, but it was nothing nobunaga couldn’t take. Having a few quick moments to survey the surroundings was all he needed to do before he finally came up with the perfect plan for this imbecile. Fighting this man hand to hand would only end in pure bloodshed that nobunaga didn’t want on his end, so he thought fast and made up his plan on the fly. It took a split second to realize what he was going to do and another split second to realize that this man was already on the move for a second attack. Wide eyed at this point, nobs realized being in close proximity of this vile beast was a “no no.”

“Teleport” Nobunaga said as he completely changed his mind about drawing his blade. He didn’t have the time to do it and still block the next attack so instead he teleported to the edge of the edge of the cleared battle spot completely getting out of any reach of any more torments of this mans assaults. Nobunaga reappeared, out of the clutches of the mans grip and near the edge of the cleared spot within a split second. Taking the fight to the forest around was exactly what was planned in the very beginning but now he had a reason to do it now.

With a sharp whistle, nobunaga signaled his shuriken to change directions before it had the time to be deflected from the beast. Instead it turned and did a beeline straight for the forest to the east, a perfect place for it to be to help Nathan, while nobunaga stood to the north of the area. “Come get me if you want me” nobunaga said as he fled into the forest being silent and quick on his feet. Nobunaga was agile enough to where he could sneak through the forest with minimal noise level, but he was not perfect with it. Besides, the scent of nobunaga the man would more than likely pick up on not too long from now.

Hopefully Nathan was handling the girl good enough to have to face her alone for a few moments, for nobunaga was now en route to a trap that he had seen earlier. It was a vine lasher thing with a spiked ending. Something that would mean pain if it collided with someone.

After a few moments of searching the lush green ground, nobunaga finally found the trap set up. Dodging a few other traps he made his way to the trap where he could see it was carefully constructed. Nobunaga thought quickly as he untied the vine and held it tightly so that he could let it go off at any moment he saw fit.

While he sat there, concealed by green and patches where there was no light, he had a brilliant idea. Within seconds he had drawn his Lightning blade and had the vine tied to it. Now as an added effect of holding the vine with spikes at the end, it now was attached with a sword that meant death if it connected to flesh. This trap was going to be the perfect weapon against someone as unrelenting as the ugly beast.

As an added effect, nobunaga took his free hand and held it behind him. He made a circular shape with his hand and finger tips and right in the middle was a shining blue ball of energy. It was held close to him and behind him so that no light from it could come out and none did. Nobunaga held the trap with care but as an added effect he charged up his most powerful spell attack. A sunbeam. He planned on charging it to full power and releasing it on this fiend. He may be able to take a blow to the face with a punch, but a unrelenting stream of energy to his face was something that he shouldn’t reckon with. The ugly monster was going to walk right into a trap that would cost him his life if he so eagerly stepped into. Hopefully he didn’t run after Nobunaga but even if he didn’t, he gave nobunaga time to charge up his sunbeam to full power. Death was certain at this point. It put the ogre thing, well ogre looking thing. In a position to where if he chased nobunaga he would be struck with a vine and sword, and a powered up sun beam, but if he didn’t chase nobunaga, he would cost himself and his cute female partner this match. Either way, he may out brawn nobunaga, somehow, but out think him was something he would never do.

Pain still was affecting Nobunaga but he was able to drown it out with his own mind. The pain he was about to unleash on his enemy was something that would be un matched. Let’s watch the man die as he took a sun beam to the face, and a spiked vine to the chest and lastly the shadow lightning blade to the throat. This man was nothing at this point. Things were unfolding perfectly as all of the plans that Nathan and Nobunaga thought of was falling perfectly into play. Now its time for the real fun to begin.

Stella thought she had had the upper hand. None of his swings could penetrate her field, and he aimed a couple of attacked aimed at Nath. But she wasn't the best swordsmen. Stella only had held a sword maybe once or twice before this match, but magic could not help her here alone. The lack of sword skill would most likely be her undoing, but right now, she wasn't ready to be beaten, specially be this.. charmer.

He deflected her blows perfectly, his blade never once touching her, merely knocking her staff away from the direction they headed, usually his face. Her anger began to fade behind the attacks, as she grew more tired. Stella's age and physical boundaries where taking a toll - the barbed staff heavier now then it had ever been. Her hair had now completely come loose, and was flying everywhere, but now was not the time to worry. Her attacks slower, drastically so.

Her last strength was used to aim at his jaw, her tiredness affecting its speed. It moved slowly then she had intended, giving Nath the opening. His raised his sword, and Stella almost laughed. Had he forgotten her barrier. She prepared a come back, when a noise came to her attention. It came from neither two fighters, but from the side of her. Looking down, she managed to look at nath, her eyes wide. He had cut the rope, releasing the log. Nath leapt to the ground, and Stella began to jump out of the way.

She might have made it, if she hadn't been so tired. The corner of the log smashed into her shoulder, an explosion of dead bark and moss surrounding her, the impact most likely causing a shatter. She did a spin, then fell to the ground., dropping her barbed staff. Her shoulder felt mangled, but strangely calm, probably from all the adrenaline she was producing. She hadn't time to waste laying down. Raising her head, she spotted Nath retreating into the woods, and she raised her finger, pointing it at a piece of bark that had exploded off the log during their collision.

"SPARK!" Stella yelled, and a small flame leapt from her fingers onto the bark. The dry piece of wood ignited faster then she had ever hoped, and she lobbed it towards the woods. The fire cought on, blocking Nath's path directly back to her. The fire spread, and she shakily rose to her feet, her arm limp, almost dead. Her other was grasping the winters wand, her eyes blazing, and her hair blowing as the billowing smoke began to ascend in her direction. Stella smirked, then headed over to where Erokor stood, his opponent also seeming to flee into the woods. She looked up at him, then gazed at the fire.

"How long do you think they can survive in THAT?!" She asked. She was fully aware that the one Erokor had fought could teleport, but what of Nath? The fire had spread along the woods, devastating most of the surroundings. Water would help in this situation, but did anyone have any?

OOC: I guess i'll be the only one who will own up to the fact of being hit instead of fancy dodged &_&

THWUMMMMMMP!!! Nathaniel had head the roar of the log and painful noise as it hit something. It sounded akin to a wet smack, but the rumble behind it promised something much more violent. He didn't have time to make sure that noise was the rotted log hitting its mark though; he had places to run and had to hope it hit her and not another tree or well-executed counter with her staff. The rumble followed behind him, the log chasing him as well as he fled into the forestry. His feet, large and befitting a man of his size and weight, expertly leapt over rock and branch. Like a well-trained hunter his weight sauntered back and forth, body kept perfectly angled and set. He truly felt he had out-smarted the girl; after all, she would have no choice but to follow, correct? Once she did, she would be lured into the myriad of traps within the place.

And then he smelled it. The unmistakable odour of burning wood, a sharp acidic smell that burned his nostrils. Nathaniel's leaps faltered, slowing into a jog and finally a walk. He turned sharply to stand behind a tree, the mighty wood hopefully providing protection in case she was following. Carefully he turned, looking out from behind it as his chest heaved and heart pumped from the exertion. Bright reds and oranges met his gaze, which seemed to be steadily spreading and tearing into the multitude of trees. One would think the damp air and moist texture of the rainforest would prevent such a hazard from truly being a spectacle, but it was not to be so. All across the ground a multitude of variously sized and coloured creatures scrambled, skreeing as they trampled the earth.

"Dammit." What else was there to say? Quickly he turned from the tree, letting his hand push against the bark and leaning his weight back on his calves and hand. Then he propelled himself forward, sprinting once more. Nathaniel couldn't keep running like this, he knew in the back of his mind he would never be able to fight if he let exhaustion hit him from the simple task of trying to escape. Even worse was the fact he no longer had a blade (for all the good it had done). Maybe he could find some break in the forestry, some place the fire had yet to lick? Nathaniel turned, fear quickly filling his steps as he jogged in a different direction. Already the animals had fled from here, and he could feel the intense heat as he moved parallel to the flames instead of away from them. But he had to check! Had to know!

And then the tree had snapped. Normally someone as alert as him could have moved away from such a thing, but exhaustion wormed through his innards and panic rang through his frame. Nathaniel couldn't hear over the shrieking animals and crackling wood, couldn't see through the haze of bright colours nor smell anything except that terrible scent of burning wood and smoke.

Crunch.

Nathaniel may have been mistaken, but he was fairly certain that was the noise his hips would have made had the tree fallen on him. Assuming it didn't snap his back entirely, in which a swimming world of pain. As it were, he narrowly missed such a fate through tripping upon one of the snares. It grasped his leg, pulling him away from the fate to instead dangle upside down. The greenery held fast against his bare ankle, and his sharp gasp of surprise eased into a sign of relief. Saved by a trap. That was one for the books. He closed his eyes to try and calm himself, then began to squirm in hopes of snapping the snare.

Nathaniel swung like a fish on a hook for a good minute before his foot hit the tree. A sharp pain lanced through it, and he let out a pained cry, looking to the tree in shock. Flames were slowly licking their way down, and the tree had began to heat up in this weather. Panic again gripped him, his throat feeling as though it had sealed and his eyes going wide in horror as he struggled even more. The colours writhed down the tree slowly, like a mighty serpent easing towards its hypnotised prey. Nathaniel by this time had flexed the muscles in his stomach, pulling himself up and furiously trying to untie the vine. It was tight! Too tight! And he could feel the spidery legs of flame touching the bottom of his pants as he tried desperately to escape.

SHINNK!!

That was his second lucky break of the day. Nobunaga's shuriken sentinel, somehow separated from its master, had come and embedded itself into the tree and sliced through the vine. Nathaniel landed harshly on his back, but was alive. With swimming vision and a dazed look it didn't seem he'd stay that way long, though. Every muscle felt spent, every limb as heavy as lead. It was hard just keeping his eyes open, and it'd be alright if he just turned over and closed his eyes for a minute...

Three, the lucky charm, indeed worked its magic. The flames that had been on the end of his pants had managed to work up to the knees, and the sudden intense pain brought him out of his daze and back to the world of the living. Nathaniel leapt up on legs that wobbled, running in circles screaming loudly as his legs burned. The concept of stop drop and roll was totally lost on him, and even tossing off his pants didn't occur. Like some animal he was focused solely on sharp peeling of flesh as he ran in circles. A particularly brave length jumped to his vest, and soon that was burning along with his pants. Nathaniel could do nothing but run, in no particular direction, to try and escape the foe's clenches. In his mad dash he was smacked by a branch pulled back and arranged apparently just for such a thing, and he fell back to the ground.

Into water. Thick, muddy water. It was muck really, with only a small amount of water. But it was enough to put out the flames, leaving him injured but alive. Silence seemed to lurk all around. In either his mad dash or through the fire, the other creatures had been frightened away. Nathaniel's eyes opened slowly as he lay in the mud, the muck clinging to the exposed flesh and smearing into both the hair on his head and his facial hair. One of his eyes was painful to open because of the mud splashed on it, but he didn't bother to wipe it away. Rather, he just lay there in the slowly burning forest, dressed only in rags that could barely be called decent any longer. Bruises adorned his body and it seemed death was trying quite thoroughly to grasp him.

A grin cracked across his lips, twisting them into a grisly smile. With how he was in the water, mud quickly dipped in and laced the crevices between his teeth and the insides of his lips. Rather than give a bitter cough, he let out a small laugh. Then a few tears ran down his face, and the laugh turned into a cackle. Soon enough he was laughing insanely and with wild abandon, rolling around in the water and getting completely filthy in the meanwhile. Like a child he felt renewed, invigorated. A giddiness filled Nathaniel's entire being. He had escaped death! He was safe!! Alive while animals all around roasted. The skin around his knees and calves was peeled in areas and black in others, and his rolling had torn away the blackened flesh of his forearms to reveal the pink meaty flesh underneath. His chest was heavily burned as well and one side of his face was so singed the goatee and hair on that side was entirely gone. His dark blue eye was no more than a faded grey.

Really, there was no way he should be awake any longer. Those burns spoke nothing of the severe bruising along his back and ankle from the harsh falls, skims by logs, and vine. In fact, his nose may very well be broken just from the vine that hit him. Nathaniel had no way to know, as his entire body had a dull ache. What kept him going, then? Adrenaline, really. Which meant he would slump over dead any second, for though his interior was fine his exterior was shot. A simply gesture, made half underwater and a sluggish tiredness, took care of that. It was only a touch to his abdomen and a blink of the eyes, but in that one simple gesture he had invoked the properties of "Heal". The burns, deep enough to ache but not enough to kill the nerves, were not truly that bad. Soon enough they disappeared, once more returning the flesh to its preferred state and giving him back his hair and eye. It was still hard to see out of, but he had a feeling the mud had to do with that.

The bruises evaporated from along his back and ankle, and his lungs, which burned as if they too had been on fire, quickly expelled the inhaled smoke. Once more his vision swam and the urge to collapse fell him, but he kept vigilant and forced his eyes to remain open. Nathaniel didn't dare move this time though, not willing to do anything until his energy returned. With his wounds mostly healed (though no longer visible they still forced his body to ache dully, proof that they were just below a major wound but slightly above moderate) he needed only wait for his energy to come back. Yet still, what of the time when Stella entered the forestry? Once this fire stopped he would no doubt need to face her again, and as far as he knew his blade was still useless.

So he thought. Like an alligator his body remained mostly submerged, his head just above the water as he relaxed. Fire was dangerous, and she had used some form of ice magic. Did that mean fire would be problematic for her? Nathaniel wasn't sure how this fire had begun to start with, but knew that if she was willing to so thoroughly disgrace the God of Nature she'd set an entire rainforest on fire, she was not as cunning a foe as he need fear. Better to overestimate her, though, and remain safe. A whizz reminded him that the shuriken Nobunaga had sent was still on his side, and his eyes moved to it while his body remained still. "Hello there. Quite the useful little devil, aren't you?" Nathaniel had clearly hit his head, speaking as he was to an inanimate object.

"Perhaps you can be of some use..."

Nathaniel looked sharply to the edge of the knee-deep water when it was suddenly illuminated, the fire sweeping past the trees before it and then continuing on. A loud crash signalled another falling tree, and an idea struck him as harshly as wood struck earth. He flexed his fingers, a sort of warning that he intended to move once more, then began to crawl forward through the murky, muddy water. He couldn't risk standing and breathing in anymore smoke, so this slow crawl was what he would be forced to endure.

Slowly but surely he came upon the fallen tree. The side was blackened and hard, having been too moist for the fire to burn but too old to escape the danger entirely. A shame such a mighty thing should have to die, but if it saved his life Nathaniel would offer no mercy. Reaching along the murky bottom of the ground he found a rock, and quickly began hacking at the side of the tree. When he'd cut into it deeply enough he tossed the stone away, grasping the edges of the wood harshly. Then, with a violent burst of strength, he pulled backwards with all his might and stripped the hardened part of bark off. It was a queer shape and promised splinters, but the somewhat oval design would suit his needs perfectly. Almost matching his entire body length, it could serve as a makeshift shield/ But how to hold it...?

With a harsh noise he smashed it down upon a branch. The branch, untouched by flames, was thick and sturdy. It held its own while he beat upon it, even digging into the ground in spite. He growled softly, but eventually stopped. He returned to the waters once more to find a rock, and began hitting it against the wooden frame. It splintered and broke, and again he felt a child's glee brighten his mood as he grabbed the thick branch and twisted it until it went through. The shield wouldn't hold up against much damage, but it was better than nothing. Quickly he snapped another branch from the fallen tree, and dipped it into the water so that the bottom portion wouldn't be able to burn. Then he touched it to one of the burning bushes nearby. Torch in one hand and "shield" in the other, he rose into a crouch and carefully moved along to a patch of ferns.

Why ferns? What purpose could they serve? A devious smirk caught his lips, and with a hand that trembled with anticipation he touched the fire to them. They burst into flame quickly, but like fireworks soon burned out. There was no greenery for the fire to reach to, and it coiled upon itself before disappearing as well. Nathaniel gave it a haughty glare, then moved down into the hidden trap revealed. A hunch he had felt when he'd seen this particular place, as these plants so rarely played nicely with one another. Furthermore, they were too far from the other trees to not be hiding something. Quickly Nathaniel moved down into the ditch, setting his fire-stick near the top half of the two foot deep ditch and holding the wooden shield above him as if he were a turtle and it his shell. There was no fire here, so it was safe from anything like that. Instead, it served to promise the mud caking him would dry more slower, thus protecting him longer. A soft whizz made him aware the shuriken was in the ditch, but it appeared to understand the necessity of staying low and thankfully remained below the two-foot line.

I will survive. And I will win. It was a simple decision, really. Made amidst thick clouds of grey overhead, that obscured any sight or sound save the formless gas and the crackling of trees nearby. Once again he was alert, letting the warrior instinct within take over him. He had fought in jungles before and survived. Though never had he felt like some trapped fox before, surviving the experience filled him with certainty that the worst had been overcome. When he'd been a soldier he'd killed many this way; locking people within buildings and setting it aflame served as a quick means to end a myriad of lives. Never had he known such panic and lack of will though, been so close to curling up and giving up on trying. It was a thoroughly unpleasant sensation, one of which he fully intended to force upon the young woman.

But not yet. For now, he would lay in wait in one of the traps. He knew not which one it was, and with smoke and fire everywhere doubted her or the Uruk could have possibly spotted him in the place. When the flames stopped he would charge her with his "shield" and flaming stick, hopefully to win this battle once and for all.

If she did find him before that? Nathaniel was prepared. His calves were tensed and back hunched, ready to lunge at any given moment. Either way, when next he saw Stella it was going to be a much more interesting attack. One of which he would thankfully enter unharmed; more than he could say for her.

Ten feet from the edge of the arena Wurzag sat on a log and watched the drama unfold. He had a glimmer of admiration for the young woman's spirit, a firm appreciation for the gentleman's speed, a racial support for his fellow half-orc and a healthy respect for the swordsman's skill. All four of the combatants had their merits, but as quickly became clear they also had their weaknesses. The green-skin chuckled as the melee quickly dissolved into chaos. "Dis is great," he muttered to Froat who was perched on the log beside him, "I ain't never 'ad to watch before, was always me doin' da fightin'." The familiar said nothing, merely stared with mild disinterest into the middle distance.

"Go on! 'It 'im!" Wurzag growled in encouragement as the two larger warriors locked together in an impossible tangle of limbs and weapons, "dunt stand der poncin' around wiv ya blades!" He punched futilely at the air in the hopes that one or other of the battling duo would get the idea. Then the red-haired human vanished, much to the half-orc's chagrin. "I feel yer pain mate," Wurzag grumbled as he recalled his fight against the equally tricky Sargtlin Olath, "bleedin' twinkle-toes spell casters."

Their counter-parts meanwhile were proving to be a much more entertaining display, since the girl, Stella, had somehow managed to ward herself from her enemies blows. Wurzag had to hand it to her; though her skills with her staff left a lot to be desired, her magical abilities were not to be taken lightly. The half-orc almost left his seat several times as the pair edged their way around the clearing, convinced that one or other of them would trigger a well laid trap. Ultimately, he was disappointed until Nathaniel's deliberate act of sabotage but the effect was no less spectacular.

"Yes," Wurzag growled as the log plunged from its hiding place, "yes," he half left his seat as it swooped through a long, terrible arc, "YES!" The half-orc jumped to his feet and thrust both fists into the air in victory as the girl was smashed brutally from her feet. "Da crowd goes wild!" He announced jovially and danced a small circle in front of his bemused lupine companion, armour rattling and chinking in time to the steps. He paused a moment to check the little mage was still alive and was not disappointed to see her cast a spell at her assailants retreating posterior as it vanished in to the woods.

"Dat was fuggin awesome," he chuckled to Froat as he reseated himself, "I knews dat wuz a gud idea. Now den, where did dem slippery fellas go?" Wurzag squinted into the verdant greenery of the jungle in an attempt to identify the hidden team, but the gloom and the smoke from the growing fire defeated his vision. "Wot do yooz reckon Froat? Time to step it up a notch?" The creature did not respond but gave a sparing glance over its shoulder to a small pile of oil-skin pouches prepared earlier. "I fink so too," the half-orc continued with a grin, "load me!" The lupine hopped down from its perch and gingerly lifted the first projectile, while Wurzag bent back a particularly springy branch he had planted in the earth. The limb terminated in a rough Y shape which neatly cupped the skin that was placed within it and Wurzag paused a moment to congratulate himself for his ingenuity.

Then he released the make-shift catapult and the globe sailed into the air.

To call Orc Killer a drink was to push the term to the very boundary of its meaning. The brew could, at least in theory, be consumed, and being a liquid it could, again in theory, provide sustenance. The majority of the sane population of Arda however would more likely choose to consume the blood of their firstborn than imbibe the incredibly flammable, chaos tainted concoction. Thus, it hadn't taken much of a leap of the imagination for the half-orc to recognise its offensive potential.

Now it was having a field test.

The oil-skin tumbled lazily over the clearing and then, with a quiet snap, the binding broke and dumped its sizzling, scintillating contents over the unfortunates below. "Direct hit!" Wurzag whooped with glee, "keep it up Froat, der's plenty more where dat came from an folks dat need a soakin'!"

So began the Orc Killer barrage!

Blade cut air, the steel shimmering in the glinting light as the shuriken dodged expertly from the reach of its tip, it zinging out of sight and out of mind. Steps were awkward, falling upon the ground with no apparent motive. Realization struck the Erokor but it was too late, the trickster that was Nobunaga casted some sort escape magic. Empty palm that seeked to be filled with a broken arm grasped nothing and the movements felt awkward, as if the beast were dancing with intangible spirits. His muscles braced, and his arm fell downwards rather harshly upon the ground, blade digging upon the soft dirt and providing stability. Dust clouds drifted, sandy ghosts that wailed while dissipating upon the Uruk's features.

A sickening cough fell upon the creature and tears welled in the corners of his eyes, the terrain more malleable and reactive to strikes as initially speculated. Smoke cleared, parting the dumbstruck demeanor of this one. Breaths hushed and his eyes closed only for a moment. Wind threw itself to caution the beast, and his nostrils flared. Once, twice, they expanded and fell, each marking a deep inhalant of breath. A grin spread upon his features toothy in appearance, black pit of hell lined deadly with mangled spikes. Erokor's lids snapped open and his eyes shuddered upon the scene before him. His opponent had fallen back North!

With a mighty pull the blade slid from the ground with ease and was resheathed, all [the while Erokor's mighty clawed toes dug against the soft surface, rapid tempo uttering a beat amongst the clearing. Nearer and nearer, the path revealed itself, its maw opening up to a thicket of leafy green plants and the foreboding whistle of creatures. So close, the Uruk could feel his heart pound upon his chest as his steps paced wildly about the ground. Nostrils practically magnetizing the human to the Uruk. Closer, closer, his foot touched the muddy dirt upon the path and felt the sting of hasty actions fall upon his back.

The liquid was incredulously painful, the lava of Orc Killer split massive cracks in his back and the bleeding oozed from the channels. Preceded only by a subtle bursting, proximity of the damage reached the beast's back only, but felt as if he'd been delivered a staggering blow. Oxygen failed him and knees crumpled dramatically to the ground. Pupils dilated and further did his chest cave in. Pain wracked his every nerve, feeling things he only dreamt over. Pleasure, warmth, searing, the great number of them all meshed together in melodious harmony. It rippled along his shoulder-blades, tempting him to stretch so that he could regain the same devilish sin.

Bellowing, another bomb whistled inwards near the Uruk's position, forcing him to drive deeper into the forest with bated breath. Nobunaga was indeed more clever than anticipated, successfully crippling the beast while he schemed with ease within his terrain. Erokor did not even consider his judge the master-mind behind the bombardment, the thought-process too complex to even muster realization. Pain transitioned to doubt, doubt lead to confusion, and confusion invoked an unbridled rage within the beast. A great gate groaned in dismay as it spun upon its gears, releasing the true instinct of Erokor.

Roaring pounded against the tree tops, globules of saliva shooting unto the terrain as dangerous projectiles. His heart leapt in dangerous intervals and the pain of the liquid soon faded, reminiscent of the beast's human weakness, emotion. Grunts drove him onwards, step, through step, through step he chanted himself a silent march, sticks crackling beneath the Uruk as he crunched upon the bothersome things. Few things rivaled the war chant in all its eerie factors of intimidation. For one it sung a dialect all its own, and when isolated its true comprehension could drive a person to madness. Its beat was relentless and unstopping, tempo fluctuating with the speed of the beast, ever increasing. Traps? There were few in some places and many in others. One unfortunate enough to slap him in the face with the whip like motion was met with solid hand. It bark armor stung upon his hand and caused minor bleeding as its force snapped it into, a snarl passing over features as he continued onwards, little time given to care.

Nose perked in awry manner, twitching every which way before settling. The human was near. Intelligent beings would have tempted fate and crept off to the side to launch a suprise attack from the side, as evidence clearly directed Nobunaga upon the walkable terrain, but still in approach. Erokor's wild dash onwards clearly evidenced his different tactics? Ingenuity? Clever could be found in a book, heart was found within the pulse of the fighter. Tactic had assembled, Stella and Erokor had forced their victims unto the forestry, they were seperated and could be dealt with individually. Initial attack was anticipated, giving Nobunaga one solid move before everything was to be taken to close quarters. Black clouds of hate would fall upon them then, bloody mangled visions where vivid fighting would hardly be clean.

Few paces more, the environment slowed. Wind dying, spirits urging on confrontation. Eyes cut a corner before Erokor had, and there stood the orange-ish human in all his splendor. The candle blew out, Erokor's life had sealed itself to this final moment. Jaw dropped agape at this arsenal, words forever lost before the moment of truth occured. Harpoon sung as it rang against the air, the thrum of a vine snapping a divine song. The great claw of the hell beast arose from its place of subtelty and its nails dug into the beasts skin, neck stretching to the side in pure fear of the lightning otherwise that would have dug through his throat. No, his foolish move had unleashed a rage. Lightning sparks rung against his artery and he screamed in agony. It was as far as it ever went.

The Uruk just barely managed to throw his blade upwards to intersect the spiked branch as they dug into his flesh, impeding their destination further than small holes gored into his very pores. The lightning blade only caused a trickle of purple blood to cut against his skin but it was all that was ever needed. Poison overcame the beast, and its sickening effects began to stir rapidly in his stomach. The steel skewered branch, and pressure was lifted. Beast tipped topsy turvy towards the other, eyes visioning a great menacing spell struck out towards him. Blue, a blinding blue of imminent power hurled towards him faster than he could think. Reaction kicked in, lowering himself to the ground while his inner shoulder took the brunt of the impact.

A flash of darkness tempted the beast as he was sent soaring from the ground. Every nerve in the afflicted area went into a bewildered state, sizzling and popping with fiery contempt. Death eagered the beast on and for a split second it spoke to him in his wild delusions. A mighty pendulum it hung from, its face blackened by a drawn hood but outstretched bony hands showed its true colors. It whispered an unnatural voicing, one that Erokor should not have understood but did.

"Embracccceee, dip your hand into the pool of darknesss. . ."

Request denied. As if the shattered world had frozen for that second, it re livened, and the Uruk continued its descent, the menacing pain drove him to madness. Large branches crackled as he stomped upon them to regain composure. A quick measure of his status taken. The poison within him grew, and his left shoulder had been thrown into disrepair. Erokor stood of his own will, gritting his mighty jaws as he leapt forth, no utterances spoken. Were he to die, let him bring Nobunaga upon him.

Blade still in right hand, it was thrown forth will all power mustered, given his left arm hung limp and lacked movement, his legs dug towards the ground. Were it to contact, well, the results would leave a huge cleft in the other's chest.

Heat, smoke, flashes of bright orange and yellow, all signs of a tremendous fire blazing. Who had started this fire, and why was it here? Was it star? These were few of the thoughts the evil warrior thought as he sat up waiting for this damn brute to run head first into a trap. The fire grew rather quickly and the only thought that really ran through his mind was if Nathan was able to stick with star, or did she completely dominate him with her magic? All questions that can only be answered with sight or word directly from Nathan. Hopefully he was fairing pretty good for there was nothing he could really do until he had taken care of this…thing.

The fire grew at amazing speeds as the amount of smoke that appeared was breath taking, literally. The oxygen in the forest seemed to be growing slim due to the fact that this smoke was thickening in matters of seconds. This fire grew faster than normal, and it succeeded in getting rid of the cold chill that fell upon the forest. When Nobu had entered the forest, the was a chill that left the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, now there was nothing but immense heat and horrible smoke.

Nobs the great, waited for a few moments before realizing that his target had came just as he planned. “Only a few more seconds. Come on big boy. Ugly boy” he thought to himself as he tightened his grip on the vine. Sweat beat down his face as the heat started to get to him. The smoke inhalation had also started to take its toll on his body since he had started to see double and it seemed as time itself was slowing down. He was slowly slipping into a delusional state of mind.

A few seconds passed as the horrible smelling beast reared his ugly face into clear view. With a loud swoosh sound, nobs released the vine and sword. Nobunaga was too busy trying to keep his own balance to see if it fully hit or not. Unfortanutly it really didn’t do much, so it appeared. In response nobunaga lifted his body fighting all his bodies abnormal states and ails, and released his stream of energy aimed directly for the monster. Somehow it ducked but it struck its arm right on point and after taking a hard close look, the blade that was attached to the vine hit its mark as well. Poison would terrorize his body now, which was all he needed to win the battle, if of course he could survive the horrible smoke and fire.

A loud crack resounded as a tree fell behind him. The sounds of loud jittering and screeches followed after the tree as the wild life in the surrounding area scurried away. Nobunaga fell backwards onto the grassy floor as the smoke inside his body started to take a major turn for the worse. The few seconds that he had caused that thing was the few seconds he needed to try to snap back to reality and focus himself. With a quick roll and a hard breath of air, he as back to his feet only to notice a sword coming his way at high velocity. If not acting, this sword would be more fatal to him than the smoky area around him.

Seconds passed as the sword came closer and closer each second. Nobunaga still saw double, so it appeared to be two swords, but he knew he was seeing double. That small little thing though is the worse feeling in the world. The feeling that one false move would cost him more than his life. It would cost his partner the tournament as well. Deep down he wanted to win for himself, but even deeper in his black hole for a heart, he wanted to succeed to prove to Nathan he was a mighty warrior that he claimed himself to be. Nobunaga didn’t want to waste the time of him and his partner by entering into a match and in the first round, have to go home due to the fact that he was too weak to over come the simple effects a fire could dish out.

Finally snapping back to reality, thoughts of death and loosing completely faded away as he clutched his demonic blade tightly and lifted it in a swift fluid movement. The sword that was coming at him was aimed for his chest but with a swift movement of his sword, the two swords connected together. The sounds of metal rang through his entire body as the vibrations from the two swords sent chills down his spine. Nobunaga shifted his weight to the left as he moved his sword to the right in an attempt for a swift parry of the sword. Everything was calculated correctly until the dreaded moment that the sword struck his upper arm and sliced through his arm.

The wound was not enough to take his arm off, or stop the movement, but it was the simple thought that he had been sliced through the arm and was now to suffer a hurt rib cage, smoke inhalation, delusional state, and now a wound to the arm. Pain rung through his entire body as he fell backwards to the ground yet again. Blood rushed out of his wound at a slow and steady pace as pain filled his body head to toe. It was a pain that he had faced before, but it would take a lot more than that to take the mighty warrior known as Nobunaga Oda down.

There has been many instances where nobunaga was left in pain such as this, and there were times when he was much worse. Count blessings, get up, grab your sword, and slaughter the opposition were the only actions left to follow through. The pain surging through his body only served one purpose, and that was to piss nobunaga off. A rage of this warrior was to fear a lot more than the looks of a being as ugly as this.

With a proud and determined attitude, nobunaga stood to his feet and clutched his sword. Blood covered half of his arm but it only served as a tool to further anger him. Every rush of pain angered him more and more. The beautiful fact that nobunaga had an enhanced endurance served a huge advantage. Anyone normally would be so close to death and giving up that theu would be going off pure will, while nobu was able to keep going thanks to his training of his mind and body. He was able to put the pain in the back of his mind for pain was nothing but an illusion anyway.

“Your death will be something I will savor. In the mean time I am going to slaughter your partner, then im coming for you. You might wanna lay down here for I am going to kill you when I come back” Nobunaga said out loud in a bloody rage as he eyed the monster uneasily. Looking at him was more painful than actually taking a hit from him. Go figure.

“Now if you escuse me, I have a little female to kill. Don’t worry. My blade will taste you again very soon lad. When it does you will breath no more.” nobunaga said jumping back into the bushed hat were still green and un touched by the fire. His vision returned back to normal as he used the nearby trees and bushes as a small barrier between him and the soon to be dead monster. It was over for him. Time will have his way with him. “Die now” nobunaga said as he activated his blur skill. His blur skill along with his ability to sprint and move faster than normal would serve its purpose in getting away from the monster and closing in quickly on the little female.

The dark warrior quickly jumped from behind the tree he was standing behind and took off at full speed past the monster and straight for the clearing he was once at to bring aid to his partner. Hopefully he would fair well for he no longer had two blades to work with, but he did have something just as savage. As he traveled at his speeds clearing trees, and bushes, and running through the fire fast enough that ir wouldn’t really hurt him too much, he found time to sheath his demonic blade and take out his two long claws and strapped one to each hand. They were long, and sharp and ready to cleave their way into the flesh of the young fire starter. She would soon learn that fighting in this tournament was a huge mistake.

Nobunaga had reached the clearing within a matter of seconds as he spotted his young victim. He had also noticed that there were things being thrown. The things being thrown looked as if they were not normal things. Something was in it and it would probably be best that he didn’t get hit by them.

Nobunaga was directly behind the girl, and even if she had heard him, she had better move or she would be killed instantly. As the distance was closed in mere seconds, something out of the corner of nob’s eye caught his attention and it was the fact that he was about to run head on into a flying sack of who-knows-what. Thinking fast, nobunaga quickly kicked out his right leg and placed slammed it into the ground and made his body do a spin. As his body spun, nobunaga forced his body downwards to duck the sack.

As he planned , the sack flew over his head quickly as he avoided that almost life threatening event, but soon found that he was too close to his female enemy that he used the same leg to kick himself upwards for an attack Still effected by his blur spell, he outstretched his left hand as he aimed a rising uppercut straight for the back of this young fighter. His plan was to completely dismantle her with his claws as Nathan followed through with a crushing ender. Just to be sure that he would have some kind of attack land, Nobunaga had also outstretched his right knee so the he could hit with the uppercut and also a knee to the same place his claws had struck. Even if the claws missed, she would have to also dodge a knee to the upper half of her body. If this plan worked then she would be out of the fight sooner than expected and there would be no stopping nobunaga and Nathan winning this fight. Her partner was in the woods hopefully dead,. If not he would be dealt with. This fight had reached its peak and its time for it to end. The finally actions would be up to Nathan to finish, but there was no doubt in Nobu’s mind that Nathan wouldn’t come through. After all, there was a reason that Nobs had chosen him out of everyone else for partnership.

Stood in the clearing, Stella watched the horrifying sight. Orc killer rained down, searing her trusted partners skin, causing him more physical pain then 10 logs smashing into her. Stella stood dripping in the stuff, her skin burning, searing like she was on fire. She fell to one knee, her arms over her eyes, her head cast down, resisting the urge to scream. The stuff ran down her silvery hair, sticking it to her black and clothes. Limp, almost dead, her arm layed at her side, its own sickening pain adding to that of the Orc Killer.

Soon the burning ran stopped, and Stella risked opened her eyes. Black smoke billowed everywhere from her fire, the sight saddening her heart. She didn't want this.. destruction, but there was nothing she could do. She would surely die to give up now, and Stella was only getting started. Rising to her feet, she stood tall, her eyes searching the charcoal tree's in front of her. Erokor, it seemed, had taken off. She had guessed he would do as much. Her eyes carried on searching, scanning every sign of movement. Nath had to be around some where, he wasn't one to give up.

There was no sign of the boy, but needless, Stella slowly made her way over to where her staff had landed, and picked it up gingerly, wary of any traps of even people about. She didn't trust Nath, specially after his cheap shot with the tree log. She grasped the staff tightly, her knuckle turning white with the pressure she held. This certainly was no game, her shattered shoulder proved this.

A strange feeling flooded through her, and Stella turned her head slightly. Nobu was moving, quicker then she had ever imagined he could. His claws couldn't possible break through her anti metal shield, and she smiled briefly at his efforts. Nob's knee rose to hit her, and she lifted her staff in defense. Although she didn't feel the full intensity of it, her staff's vibrations sent her stepping backwards briefly, before she used the full power of her staff's fast casting abilities.

"FALLING STARS!" She yelled, raising her staff only to bring it down in a sweeping motion, sending hundreds of tiny stars to fall in the field. They rained down on the area where Nobu stood, and Stella shifted further away yet. With him distracted, she re-iced her staff using her Winters Embrace, then aimed the staff at Nobu. She summoned it's freezing abilities, and aimed multiple attacking of freezing around the area where he way - just in case he tried to run/dodge. "FREEZE DAMMIT!" She yelled in a slight fit of passion, her voice like a gasp with her concentration of the freezing. All the running and dodging had made her hyper. While she did this, slowly she backed off the way Erokor had ran. Through the mist that had formed she saw a tree that had frozen, and mistook that for Nobu, and began to run off into the forest, looking for her partner.

The forest was charred and smelt strongly of vegetation. Smoke tendrils rose from little patches of burning ferns, and she eyes then wearily. Running knocked her shoulder about, the pain ripping through her. Slowing, she began to speed walk, her eyes and ears alert for any sign of Nath, or even Nobu - if he could possibly have survived that attack. Slowly, she walked through the burned forest, her heart heavy for the destruction she had caused.

Thud. Thud thud thud thwump!

That was all Nathaniel could hear, as rocks seemed to fall from the sky to harshly sling themselves off of his makeshift shield. Areas splintered from repeated impact, but the worst of it was prevented because he'd neglected to entirely enter the field. A good choice apparently. The trees at the edge of the clearing did something to catch a few, and the spell didn't seem directed over where he was specifically. Good. That means she doesn't know I'm here. SMACK! With a stifled yelp he shifted closer under the shield, a star hitting his exposed heel. It wouldn't bruise easy, but it stung as if it had been. Quickly he decided against mulling over self-congratulations, instead opting to wait for the instant the spell stopped. Unless the Uruk was capable of magic, he was fairly certain he knew who had performed the spell.

Silence. Save for the harshly crackling fires, wood exploding, snapping, warping, and all other manner of things one would expect in the face of fire. A cloud of black-gray smoke still rolled above him slowly, showing no signs of lifting. Obviously the fire still had life in it yet. Good, the smoke would give him something of cover. Quickly he reached for his torch, pulling it away from the small collection of stones/pebbles/stars. He deliberated for a moment; only as long as it took to shift his grip on the shield -- then came running out of the hiding spot. The shield was held in front of him, like a bull who lowers his horns. His flaming stick was pulled back, poised and ready to strike the instant it was within range.

A muddy face, smeared in black ash, looked quickly about the field as he charged. The heat of the rainforest had more or less caked the mud, the dirt and grime hardening on the top and crackling with every movement. Under it another layer of mud was also drying, but wasn't yet at the point of peeling. Covered as he was in such mud made him look like some jungle dweller, his clothing shredded and drenched equally in protection against the flames. Reddened eyes looked for a moment, though feet never stopped their pace. Quickly his eyes fell upon his victim; Stella. A flame of red hair certified someone else was there; likely Nobunaga. He knew the other was capable of speed, and it would explain why the poor girl was firing things at him. Freezing things.

Damn. She could mess up his little plan if he wasn't careful. No matter, though. If she did freeze his shield or torch it would only make it that much more jagged; that much more lethal. The wood was thick and sturdy, even on its own it would be a useful weapon. With her back turned to Nobunaga she was a perfect target, her back exposed and hair blowing in the southwestern wind. His long legs pulled him onwards, though time seemed to slow as he built for this final event. It was over; if Nobunaga was here he had defeated the foul beast, and Stella was no match for their combined strength. Even now her arms look weighted with fatigue, and her movements with the staff showed her growing exhaustion. Comforting, if not simply because Nathaniel was starting to feel such effects on his body as well.

Then she turned, and Nathaniel felt a fear rise that she had seen him barreling towards them; they, who lurked on the other side of the field. She didn't though, thankfully. Instead she turned towards the woods, heading for it. Nathan cursed, managing to turn in his stampede so that his foot tripped over the other. His injured heel screamed in protest, but it worked to throw him harshly to the ground so that he could roll up into a stop. Down in a crouch, the shield was poised sideways and the torch outstretched. Slowly he rose, Stella disappearing into the tree line. There was no point in giving chase; she would die in there. The smoke inhalation had nearly done him in, but someone with that small of a form? Unless she had repellent, it was going to knock her flat.

"So, have fun with that Uruk?" Nathaniel looked to his partner, shifting the weight in his arms. "He looked like quite the handful." Blue eyes moved appreciatively over Nobunaga, before a hand was outstretched. "They've lost. They just don'... hang on. What on Ea are you covered in?" Nathaniel rose an eyebrow, clearly perplexed. The smell was strong, nearly enough to knock the tired warrior off his feet. At first he thought the other had simply jumped into a bath of water, but no water he knew of was that clean nor smelled that way. So what could it have been?

Nathaniel had missed out on the fun, buried as he was in the forest when the catapulting began. He had avoided being hit by it solely through great luck. Now he was left to ponder the compexities of just how precisely Nobunaga had gotten wet (he hadn't been close enough to Stella to see that she, too, was drenched in the stuff). If he'd known that Stella had run into a burning forest while covered in alcohol he likely would hae died of excitement. After all, Orc Killer was extremely flammable, and the flames would make short work of her, drawn as they were to the liquid. Facing opposition from something she began, it would be interesting to see how she got out.

And in the meanwhile, Nathan was content to wait out here, to beat her back into the forest with his stick if need be. She was only getting what she deserved, really.

A rumble of thunder interrupted the half-orc's mirth and he ceased his alcoholic assault on the contestants to study the sky above. Thick banks of dark cloud had rolled out over the jungle from the south and piled into billowing thunderheads that growled the promise of an imminent deluge. Wurzag grumbled and returned his attention to the chaotic maelstrom of the arena and the extremely persistent warriors there-in. They were still going strong and neither side looked as though they were ready to throw in the towel. Their magistrate did not intend to suffer a soaking on their account however and the brewing storm looked powerful enough to drown them all.

At least it would put the fires out.

With a sigh of resignation that his fun was at an end the green-skin extracted himself from his position and shambled into the centre of the clearing. He ignored the combatants still there, took a deep breath and roared, "stop!" At the top of his voice. The last few birds that had remained in the nearby trees burst from the canopy and flapped frenziedly away into the gathering gloom. "Listen up ya gits," Wurzag continued when he was sure he had their attention, "I reckon I've seen enough so break it up." There was a crash from somewhere within the woods followed by a muffled twang. "I said break it up!" The half-orc yelled again.

"Der are carriage fings waitin' out der to take yez back to Lomedor so go on an get out of 'ere afore we all gets a soakin'!" There was another crash of thunder as if to punctuate the sentiment and the first heavy drops of rain began to hiss their way down through the canopy and sizzle in the persistent flames. "I shud make yez stay 'ere an put dat fire out too," he rubbed his chin and gazed toward the heavens as the downpour steadily increased, "only I fink de water will do it for yez so count yeself lucky." He swiveled his gaze toward the young mage, "particularly yooz!"

With that he stomped his way out of the clearing and in to the forest in what he believed to be the right direction. "Come on Froat," he muttered to the lupine as he walked, "weez got a carriage to catch an a storm to dodge." A small stream of rainwater spilled from a broad, overhanging leaf and coursed directly down his back. Wurzag made a noise and shivered, "only I fink weez maybe a little late fer da dodgin'! Come on!"

With that he jogged away into the drenched woodland.