Round Two: Kilix VS Aiedan

[A Dragonian]

Legends of Dragonia: Tournament 2006--
Esperanza Edition:
Round Two: Viva la Dragonia!

Match: Kilix VS Aiedan
Final Score: 3 - 2
Location: Bedoe
Starting Date: Monday, September 4^th, 2006
Ending Date: Saturday, September 15^th, 2006
Judge: Falkan

Reminder - Be sure to be well informed of the Rules and Format of each match. Be sure to include your surrounding area; remember, YOU ARE NOT FIGHTING ON THE TOURNAMENT GROUNDS! The first person to post can set any additional conditions, such as the weather or the exact location of where the two are fighting, to further the environment. Also, be creative with what you do, and be sure to have fun!

[Archer]

((Good Luck Robbie; not that you’ll need it ;D I’m looking forwards to the challenge here, let’s make it a good’un.))

In the space of time between the first round and this time, the thrust of excitement that had held Esperanza in it’s grasp was beginning die down. The First Round was over, the victors and the losers had been chosen, and the lots for Round Two had been drawn; the favourites had been decided, and the underdogs equally so. Almost all the fights thus far had led to the thorough enjoyment of all who viewed them; only two were disappointing, the first a bout where neither fighter appeared to the match, and the second ending in a knock-out. The rest of the bouts had ended when the time was over, the crowds following the highly intense action right up until the judges call.

This wasn’t to say that the city was free from anticipation; far from it. Each of the five rounds of this tournament would bring with them a whole new wave of feelings that could fill the hearts and minds of all Esperanza; the first round brought the thrill of the fight-- although the Saiyan Invasion had managed to dull this slightly-- and the excitement of seeing the potential of each individual. The third round would be the most calm of the five; the centre round, when the fighters would have pulled out all their stops already, and the pairings would be the most notable change. Round Four; the last of the base rounds, bringing the exciting finish to half the fighters in the tournament, and finally the Finals; where the men would really be separated from the boys.

But this was none of those listed above: this was the second round. This round would bring a whole new breed of thrills; the crowd had now seen each warrior in action, they’d witnessed some of their most devastating and unique abilities, yet it was still early enough for the air of mystery to enshroud the fighters, the excitement of the unknown keeping a weakened hold on the enthralled viewers. The pairings for this match were just as interesting and diverse as those from the first, but with the audience now knowing each warriors capabilities, predictions were being made with much more ease; in some cases, they had already chosen the winners, whilst others were as unpredictable as ever.

All corners of the Grand Stadium were bustling with activity; the women-- that is to say, the shoppers-- browsed the stalls with intent, checking each individually to check for any updated wares, whilst the men-- that is to say, the gamblers-- either queued in line at the betting-booths, or simply milled around the paths that led around the great arena, with a ticket crumpled between their fingers. Some were forced involuntarily to coincide with the others, but most had split from their other halves to go about their own business. However, there was one place where an equal mix of either sex could be found; the Bar.

The Stadium’s bar was relatively quiet, most probably due to the imminent start of the Round Two bouts-- even though in reality it was still a few hours until it began. The walls were a deep crimson, a thin type of fabric lining every inch. Leather-bound benches leant easily against the sides of the room, combining seamlessly into the beginning of the bar itself. Dusty bottles stood tall against the mirrored backdrop, each and every one of them containing a liquid more intriguing and diverse than the next. Some were blue, some were green, and for some it was almost impossible to see anything in the bottle at all.

Smalls groups of Dragonian men and women were sporadically placed at tables around the smoke-filled room, but the area was nearly bare of all life; most of the people that the Stadium held were now bolted to their seats in the benches. One figure sat alone on one of the many stools that ran parallel to the counter, hunched over the wooden bar, his elbows firmly planted on it’s surface. He seemed rather out of place, considering his surroundings; his dull grey suit of body-tight armour contrasting greatly with the colourful shirts, skirts, trousers and dresses of the general public surrounding him.

The musk of smoke contained within the Bar wafted gently through his fur, the yellowy brown hairs swaying slightly as it did so. Every so often, his ears would twitch, batting away some small insect that tried to house itself there for a time, whilst his mouth wound into a thread of constant movements, his tongue trying to dislodge the taste of the stale air around him. He managed to stifle a cough brought on by the disgusting chemical in the air, his eyes filled with a faint loathing.
”Smoking,” Kilix muttered, almost inaudibly to the general public around him, ”Filthy habit, if you ask me…”

Even though his furry fingers were wrapped comfortably around a pint glass-- filled, obviously, with water; alcohol before a fight was absolutely unacceptable-- he had not come to the Bar for the drinks, and definitely not for the tainted air that filled it. He had come to contemplate the match ahead; his battle with Kiruna had pushed his body to the very limits and further, and even with his injections of Smart-Serum, along with the new suit of armour his Robot had loyally provided, a part of his mind still hung on the notion that he was not ready for another fight just yet.

However, what he’d failed to do last time, he would not forget now. Even though he’d won the battle against Kiruna, it had been far too close for his liking. Kilix-- always the strategist-- had evaluated this down to a single point; lack of preparation. And so now he sat, alone, in the cloudy environment of the Grand Stadium’s public house, his mind began to evaluate his new opposition; the Dragonian man, Aiedan Aurion.

Of his actual arsenal, Kilix knew little; he had not managed to get hold of the recording from his Round One match, but he had seen snippets of the fight on the various TV screens that were placed around the Stadium, and this had been enough for the Liixan to begin thinking of his actual build. The man stood little under 6 feet, with an estimated weight of something between 175 and 190 pounds, and most importantly, he could not be more than 3 years past adulthood, at the most. This meant that, although he would definitely be fast, being of medium build as opposed to a muscle mountain, he would not be nearly fast enough for Liixan agility. And, the other main advantage, is that he could not have very much more experience in battle than Kilix himself, the pair being of a similar age.

Kilix took a long drink from his glass, swiping his tongue across his chops to dislodge any water droplets caught in his fur as he placed his glass back down on the bar. His opponent would most likely have the physical advantage in strength, simply due to the fact he was a well built Dragonian, as opposed to even a well built Liixan, his kind’s lightweight build being both an advantage and a fault, at times. And although he knew nought of Aiedan’s abilities, Kilix’s own arsenal was a surprise to most warriors. A fickle grin played upon his lips; he felt that this fight would be another close call.

His train of thought was derailed when a voice cut the tracks; Kilix had been so deep in his own mind that all of his surroundings had become little more than a blur. The voice was a familiar one, but for a moment Kilix was unable to place where he’d heard it before.
”I saw yer last fight,” it started, evidently from directly behind his right shoulder, ”A good start to yer Tournaments, Brother.”
It wasn’t until his last word the Kilix managed to locate the voice in his memory; the pirate captain, Jorax Lorba. Kilix didn’t react, keeping his slouched position over the bar, until he felt the Captain’s hand placed upon his shoulder.

Shrugging it off, he stood up from his stool, pushing past Jorax and his gang, leaving a few coins of Dragonian currency on the bar table. The amalgamated gang of Liixans quickly took their places on the abandoned stools, the barman turning his attention to the foremost of them; Jorax.
”Pint o’ Lager,” he muttered, ”And sommat soft fer teh kids. Turn th’ telly on, wouldya? Channel 8...

Kilix moved swiftly along the circular pathway in search of the nearest flight of stairs; he needed to get to the locker rooms, to get a decent amount of preparation for his fight. His eyes caught on the hanging signs for a moment as he passed them, seeing the names that were displayed. “Screen 6; Hakuto Inuneo VS. Musashi”, “Screen 7; Ravious Esteulle VS. Cheshire”, “Screen 8; Aiedan Aurion VS. Kilix Gyro”. As he passed the wandering crowds that filled the stadium, he heard the faint, yet definitely eccentric voice of a salesman through the crowds; “Buy your own Kazaana Air-Fan today! Suck all the warm air from around your body in moments!” He recognised the voice; it was the salesman for Heroes Anonymous. Kazaana? What relevance does that have to anyone… he thought.

---

It was many hours later, the fighters were ready, and the round was about to start. Kilix stood alone in the fighter’s lounge, his shoulders pressed back against the corner of the room. For the most part, he had been warming up in his locker room, stretching his limbs and giving himself small training exercises to perform-- although the location was not as good as he could have hoped. His body was now relaxed, his muscles sitting loosely on their respective bones. Any previous doubt about his condition for this match had been wiped from the slate. He was ready.

His eyes darted lazily around the room. It contained the same faces he recognised from the first round, but Kilix could only truthfully call a handful familiar. He kept his vision flowing, moving from one area to the next, but every now and again his gaze would linger on one place. But there was only so much to look at in the room, and the hour was growing short; Kilix was getting impatient. He wouldn’t need to wait long, however, as a blue hued glow began to fill the area; the Teleporter was activated, and the fights were about to begin. Kilix smiled as he felt the atoms of his body being charged with the energy required for teleportation, and only one thing crossed his mind.
Let’s see what this boy can do…

((I’ll leave you to set up the area mate. Again, Good Luck, and may the best man win!))

[A Dragonian]

((Good luck to you, too, man. I’m looking forward to this being a good match. I disappointed Ryan a bit, but I will not be a disappointment to you! I’ve always wanted to fight you-- as you already know-- and I don’t plan to go easy on you, either. And to Falkan: Have fun keeping up with us two! ;D))

The air hung with a musty stench, a foreign odor to the mind, yet a simple one that anyone could associate with a simple waft into their nostrils. This smell was associated with two things-- sexual intercourse and fighting-- the latter the more appropriate choice to its former. The foul stench clung to the light yellow walls, a light goldenrod in color, and naturally spread itself through the air current in the room with little difficulty. No matter where you stood in the room, no semblance of fresh air existed; every inhale would bring the smell and taste of sweat to the nasal cavities, throat, and mouth. Without any ventilation, this smell would not be changed quickly.

The tiled floor below had very few nicks and marks from where previous fighters had used this room; it was drier than a hot skillet during the summer months, yet, had the room been regularly air conditioned, it might have been possible that this stench changed from vapors to droplets and covered the floor: Be careful, slippery when wet.

On this ground, two feet were firmly planted. Their course led to a figure, bent over upon itself; his figure moving lightly with each inhalation and exhalation, shaking his tattered clothing that clung to his body. From the heavy pants leaving his throat, it was more than evident that this person had exhausted his resources. The shambled of clothing decorating his body-- a pair of faded blue jeans and a white, sleeveless turtleneck-- were drenched in the man’s sweat, (He had left his jacket back in the locker room, because he would not need it while he was training, nor would he during his future matches.) keeping them closer to his damp body. He was bent forwards in a light arc, and the displacement in gravity had allowed the man’s medium-length, chestnut hair to cascade over his face, hiding the features from beneath it.

After several minutes of exhausting the tired nature of his body, the man regained his posture, standing tall and revealing his nearly six feet of height to anyone who might have seen him. He was a mountain of a man-- tall and somewhat large, yet well built for his figure. His height did not give him an awkward stature, and his medium build of muscle did not give him the appearance of overbearing strength. He would never come off as a body-builder in strength, but he was not as thin as a stick, just where he wanted to be.

With one of his hands, Aiedan pulled a cigarette from his pocket and ignited it with the lighter in the other. As if second nature, he brought the thin cylindrical rod up to his lips and took a single inhale. The end grew somewhat smaller, the end of it burning as the hot tobacco, in the form of heavy ash, filtered down through his mouth, down his throat, and into his lungs. Normally, this would cause a person to cough heavily from the spread of toxic fumes in their body; Aiedan had grown used to this by now, and he typically did this only for the feeling. Sure, smoking might be a deadly habit, but Aiedan decided it was his body; he’d kill it how he wanted to, thank you very much.

With an exhale, releasing the wispy smoke from his lips into the air, where it dissipated through the musky atmosphere, he collected his thoughts together, and thought to himself, That should be enough for now....I don’t want to tire myself too much, giving my opponent an easy fight.

Aiedan knew little about his opponent for the next round; he went by the name of Kilix Gyro, but that was all the information that the Dragonian possessed. He did not sneak through the officials and find out every possible detail about this person. He did not steal the feed from this person’s first round match, and then scan every miniscule detail of it to find this man’s strengths and weaknesses. That takes all of the fun out of fighting against him in the first place, he decided with a sly grin. The fun in this match finding out exactly what his opponent was going to do naturally, and relying entirely on instinct.

With a light creak, the doors to the room Aiedan had been training in opened wide, and the Dragonian boy stepped outside of the room. He was greeted by possibly one of the most extravagant hallways in all of Dragonia. The floor below him was covered in large, black marble tiles, each one connected to the next without any indication of a laminate; organized in a mathematical pattern, there was a white tile every so often, causing the type of pattern that little kids, with nothing better to do, would find themselves making games out of-- such as only walking on the white tiles, or weaving in and out of the white tiles as they walk with their parents. The walls were ornate, decorated to some of the most ritzy materials Aiedan had ever seen. Potted plants sat on oak stools here and there, adding more pizzazz to the already well-decorated area. People crowded the halls, having various reasons for their escapades: getting to their seats, looking for the restrooms, and stopping to shop at one of the conveniently overpriced stands. Luckily for Aiedan, this meant that he could go from Point A to Point B without many people noticing him-- another benefit from not looking like more than the average Dragonian.

Instead of walking out into the mainstream of traffic, slowly ebbing away as people continued along their merry way, Aiedan turned to his right as he walked down the hallway, moving down one of the branching corridors, away from the crowd. This hallway was as ritzy as many of the others, with the same tiling decorating the floors and the same paint on the walls. However, there were no decorations on the walls as there were in the pathways that the typical people would travel down; being a fighters’ only section, no one would know the difference. Esperanza’s pretty good at cutting corners, Aiedan said to himself with a light chuckle, holding the remains of his cigarette between his teeth; his laugh echoed against the two walls, ceiling, and floor before it quickly died away. The only other sound-- apart from the murmurs and hectic chaos behind him-- was the echo of his feet upon the tiled floor.

Aiedan followed down this pathway until he reached his destination: a pair of brown double-doors with golden polished handles. As Aiedan turned the handles, pushing the doors inwards, the walls changed colors from a fancy, expensive color to a snow white. The tiles on the floor had also turned the same color, now shortly apart from one another and with no decoration as fancy as the black marble. Showerheads spouted out of the walls and hung down in equal angles from each other, spaced evenly apart. The nozzles to turn them on were at chest level.

Aiedan smiled to himself, closing the door behind him. He put his hands to his hips, and slowly peeling the damp material upward, he discarded the shirt that he had been wearing. He dropped it to the dry floor below him, and then went to unzip the fly of his jeans. When the last layers of his clothing were lying in a puddle of cloth on the floor, Aiedan stepped into the showers and turned on the nozzle. A jet stream of water shot from the Just what I need...Ah! Too cold!

With his shower completed-- his clothing dried and clean, and presentable to fight, Aiedan was ready to take on his opponent. Stepping out of the showers, his hair had a light sheen to it, caused by the water from his shower and it still being damp. His body no longer smelled as if he had just ran a marathon, or if he had just finishing laying the law down on a prostitute. His clothing had also somehow been cleaned since he last worn them, as if someone had taken a bottle of Febreeze to it. Aiedan did not feel like asking questions, either; his clothing was clean, and that was fine with him.



Just as quickly as round one of the tournament had concluded, the second round had begun. The eighteen fighters had gathered together-- including the mystery fighter, who turned out to be one of the heroes from the Saiyan Invasion, not to mention an old friend of Ryan’s-- and together, they disappeared onto the various continents of Dragonia. This round, thankfully, there were no mistakes about a set of fighters being sent to Alundera. Everyone at the terminals sighed with relief when there were no errors, and now they could just sit back and watch the matches, like everyone else.

Night had been set over Bedoe on this evening, and everything seemed dark and bleak. The stars, which normally hung over the continent in the night sky, had also decided to turn in for the night. Clouds covered them in a blanket, darkening the night even further; these clouds were of a the cumulus nature-- large and puffy-- and looked as if they were about to burst at any moment. But even in the darkness, the lining of the mountaintops could be made out, the stiff rock figures towering high into the heavens-- some even past the blankets of clouds.

The mountains harbored some life within them, but most of the mountainsides were filled with loose rubble and debris, enough to cause a landslide with enough of a torrential downpour. Small shrubbery grew from the jagged pathways here and there, but they had nothing in grand comparison to the trees of Lavertia or Larleta, nor the prairies of Rues. Not a single bush or shrub grew any larger than a foot or two off the ground, which was not that impressive, after all.

It was on this scene that Aiedan appeared, his feed landing softly on the rock pathway of one of the spiraling, towering mountains. He looked around from area to area, gaining a sense of the scenery around him. Below him, he could make out the rushing sounds of a freshwater river, which might come in handy later in the match; if not for anything else, he could get a drink from it.

Aiedan closed his eyes for a moment. I cannot see a damn thing... When he opened his eyes again, everything was in a different light. Through the ability he knows simply as Byakugan, his eyes could use the tiny fragments of light around him to see everything perfectly, like a cat’s eye. The unrefined lines he had seen in the dark were finely focused now; Aiedan would no longer be at a disadvantage at this moment.

There was no other signature around; could his opponent not have arrived yet? Was he using some form of stealth to cloak himself from Aiedan’s detection? He did not know, but this did not stop a smile from spreading across his pale lips. This was the kind of excitement that thrilled Aiedan all the time.

He waited for his opponent to make the first move, loosening the tenseness coursing through his muscles. He had to relax, for that would make him faster; he could not predict his opponent’s moves, but he could easily prepare himself for anything. And just because he was waiting there, it did not mean he was not prepared to fight, either.

A gentle breeze ran through the mountains....It was a good sign, or at least it was to Aiedan.

[Archer]

The scene could almost have been ripped directly from a low budget horror movie; if you had added the Castle Dracula atop the nearest mountain, you’d be expecting to see stupid tourists fleeing through the valleys at any second. A lid of blackening, bursting clouds floated eerily above the night’s sky, casting the valleys into deeper darkness than before. But this was no matter to Kilix, his eyes glowing with an ominous sheen as the light was absorbed and reflected back into the world around him; the only sign to him that it was night at all was the shining silver disk that could be seen through a wisp of cloud, Dragonia’s satellite, Lunos.

The thick soles of Kilix’s boots were lodged firmly on the side of the mountain, his right hand grasping a nearby piece of rock that jutted out from it’s home, keeping him at a near-diagonal angle, his body leant forwards, looking down into the vast pit that was this valley. He was situated about a hundred feet above the scraggly path on which Aiedan stood; although for the meantime, the Dragonian would be none the wiser, Kilix’s body and energy signal both equally hidden by his armour’s stealth device.

Kilix wasn’t a dishonourable, sneaky fighter-- for the most part, at least-- nor was he trying to gain more of an insight into his opponent. The information he’d evaluated from the warriors age and physical build up had more than covered his needs, whilst still leaving him with the ever exciting element of surprise. In fact, the only reason he concealed his body was so that he wouldn’t be caught off guard; he had no idea as to what sort of a fighter this man would be, and he wasn’t going to allow himself to be struck before he was ready.

A gentle breeze wafted gently through the maze of valleys that Bedoe’s mountain ranges provided, blowing Kilix’s fur as it swept past. A faint smile played on his lips; it was time for the battle to begin. He deactivated his stealth mode, his form appearing as a silhouette on the mountainside, as if a sheet of cloth had been pulled away to reveal him; and his power level would be unmasked likewise. His eyes fixed on the location of the Dragonian boy, the figure of Aiedan standing as relaxed as if he were about to have a massage.

Kilix was completely unaware of Aiedan’s ability to see through the murky darkness around him; for all he knew, he still held a major advantage. He remained on the cliff face for a moment, his gaze never leaving Aiedan’s person for a second. By now, Kilix had been out of his Stealth mode for at least ten seconds, and if the Dragonian before him didn’t know he was here by now, then he was definitely not a fighter worthy of being one of Dragonia’s top 18.
”I hope you don’t mind if we skip the pleasantries, Aiedan,” he called out from his mountainside position, ”I’ve had enough of those so far to last the entire Tournament.”

He waited a moment for any reply that Aiedan might make, but he did not intend to speak aloud again for some time. As soon as the Dragonian finished any words he might have said, Kilix tensed his legs and launched himself from his position on the mountainside, aiming to get height as opposed to distance; the mountainside was steep and treacherous, and the last thing he needed was to overshoot an attack before the actual fighting had begun. He pulled his body around into a somersault, the spin being perfectly placed on the peak of his jump, and his leg extended as his descent began, aiming for a sharp dropping kick towards Aiedan’s torso.

Regardless of success, his momentum would take him to the very edge of the mountainous pathway, his extended foot striking hard against the rock, spinning around on the toe as it’s brother joined it, and pushing off again into the air, whilst the unstable stone upon which he’d stood for less than a second crumbled away into pebbles, tumbling down into the darkened abyss of the valley. Kilix‘ jump had brought him behind Aiedan, and so he took advantage of his position, aiming a swift jab to the Dragonian’s kidneys.

Kilix had been taught to expect the unexpected, so he was ready for anything that Aiedan would throw at him. But would Aiedan be ready for him?

[A Dragonian]

It was rare for a breeze to come through the mountains of Bedoe; the winds cannot weave its direction like the flowing waters of a river. Moving in and out of the rocky peaks, betwixt the ancient, natural spires of rock, would be nigh impossible for the winds to do. And, of course, mountains are positioned in the dark and damp clay, unable to change their positions at a whim. Unable to move the natural stone pyramids, the winds would just crash into the mountainsides and disperse-- maybe flow around it, if possible. This inevitable battle of the unstoppable force and the immovable object would be forever deadlocked, the winds refusing to desist, and the mountains unable to merely step out of the way.

One could tell many things about the weather with the wind. From the direction that the wind carries itself, and also how fast the wind traverses in this direction, one can tell the differences in temperature from one area to another. Warm fronts and cold fronts cause the effect of temperature to occur all around the planet, Dragonia not being an exception to this rule. These temperatures are stimulated by the electrons in oxygen molecules getting excited, in a lack of better terms. The speed of these electrons causes excess heat, raising temperature in small pockets around the planet. These different temperatures then cause levels of pressure around the planet.

Now, obviously, these pressures do not have equal levels of balance. On a picture, you will not see a solid patch of black on one part of a piece of art, and then a solid patch of white conjoined next to it; they clash with each other; it will not suddenly get hot after being cold-- it is impossible to go from thirty-two degrees Fahrenheit to a hundred degrees Fahrenheit in three seconds. There must be a transition in it, over a long period of time: hours, or possibly days. There is a form of gradient, from which the temperatures change from cold to warm. This is why nothing goes straight from being hot to being cold.

However, there is a rule in nature that is often striven for-- even though it is rare to occur, and such an occurrence would inevitably be the end of the world: balance. To try and balance out these imbalances of heat and cold-- to balance high and low levels of pressure-- wind is created. The low pressure, the colder temperature, moves to try and balance out the warm fronts. Typically, the winds always carry a colder chill on their breath-- if they do not have a cool and refreshing sense to them; when traveling in the desert, one might find that the winds are actually quite harsh, and unforgiving, but they are still colder than the temperature around you, or than it is in another part of the desert.

Aiedan could feel the heat around him this evening, in particular. It hung around like the fog when one breathes on the cold glass. These cooler winds, coming from the west, were a sign that it was a nicer degree in that direction. But Aiedan could not complain about this cool rush of wind coming towards him. It danced through his auburn hair, tossing stray strands hither and thither, blowing along with the graceful zephyrs. His tattered clothing ruffled with the breeze, yet it had some restraint to its movement.

For a moment, Aiedan closed his eyes and took in the brief embrace of this calm moment. The night was not warm or humid, typical in the summer months; nor was it a frigid cold, typical for the harsh winters of Bedoe. This was a balance that Aiedan believed nature should strive for, should it ever succeed. Such beauty... thought Aiedan, opening his eyes for a moment to take in the darkness around him; had the clouds been clear from this night, the stars would have gracefully added to this semblance of harmony that the wind blessed upon the mountains. I could not ask for a better setting to have this match upon....

It was on this moment that Kilix had chosen to revert his stealth to nothingness, exposing not only his physical features to the world, but also his power signature. This would not be easily unnoticed by Aiedan, even though he had taken the moment to appreciate the beauty of their mountainous surroundings. Unlike the typical rules of balance-- the laws of the gradient, in which this power would slowly appear from its shroud of shadows-- Kilix’s power level had just suddenly popped into existence, as if out of nowhere. Aiedan knew nothing of this man’s armor, nor of its stealth. In conclusion, Aiedan’s best guess would be that this man had just warped on the scene. Most likely, he would learn the error of this mistake later.

This person was several hundred feet in elevation about Aiedan, and he could tell the temperatures at the summit were higher than at the apex; there would be less wind in the sky, meaning that Aiedan would want to keep lower down, preferably. “These winds will be my ally,” Aiedan said to himself, slowly adjusting his head upward to get a better view of his opponent, Kilix. “The less fighting I have to do up there, the better.”

As Aiedan looked up, his ability to see clearly into the night allowed him to pierce through the night’s shadowy deception, and Aiedan had a clear view of his opponent. It put him off to know one thing, and as he saw this man-- could you even call him a man-- in true light, the Dragonian could respond with nothing but a cocked eyebrow....His opponent was feline! Or, at least, he looked feline....He stood at least a foot shorter than Aiedan, his body covered from head to toe with yellowish-brown fur. His ears were large and pointed like a cat’s, giving his feline visage even more validity. His eyes were slightly larger and wider than a human’s, with the faintest glow of a golden brown color, a mere black slit for the pupil. His attire consisted of several pieces of foreign armor, open at the joints for free movement; this gave him some more features of being human.

This creature, titled as Kilix, opened his mouth, and Aiedan was half surprised that its speech was not a mew. Instead, it spoke in a language the Dragonian boy could comprehend, and told Aiedan everything he needed to know to prepare for this match. “I hope you don’t mind if we skip the pleasantries, Aiedan,” his voice echoed through the crevices of the mountain, and Aiedan’s ears picked up the vibrations through in his ears, along with the breeze’s gentle dialect. “I’ve had enough of those so far to last the entire Tournament.”

Aiedan merely nodded at Kilix’s monologue, knowing exactly how he felt after all of the formality he had given to Ryan in the first round; disappointingly, he had not done much with this man in combat, and had spent his time giving him gentle conversation. This time around, he wanted to skip all of the formality, and just getting to pounding the living shit out of someone. If he was bored enough, he would even rip the fur right from Kilix’s skin. “Fine by me,” Aiedan responded curtly, stretching the muscles in his calves and spinning his arms in circles. He was loosening his muscles, allowing him to make quicker reactions to his opponent’s moves. He smiled once, and let it fade. “Make your first move then, Kilix.”

Without waiting for Aiedan to finish, Kilix had already made his move. He began by pressing against the rocky path that his feet were firmly pressed upon, and the temporary displacement in gravity brought him skyward. Had he been higher, he might have been high enough to pierce the clouds. While in the air, he arced forward and began to do an aerial summersault. The momentum would keep him spinning, and when gravity would finally set in between Kilix and Dragonia, the feline figure would begin his descent, increasing his speed with every second. It would take mere seconds for him to clear the distance between the two fighters.

And without thinking, his lips were infected with a virulent smile, one showing the wicked ideas turning through the Dragonian’s head. Could Kilix see it while he was turning, he would realize that it was not a good sign. You’re making this too easy for me, Kitty...

While Kilix was making his descent, Aiedan began making the first move. The Dragonian clenched his fists, and he relaxed the muscles in his arms. As he focused his two sapphire eyes on the spinning figure above, Aiedan brought his fists upwards. He opened his clenched palms, the five digits on each hand opening up and spreading wide. With this sudden change of movement, there was a disturbance in the pressure around Kilix. The calm zephyr that once span around his body had miraculously changed. From a gentle breeze, it grew into a rapid squall, its speed and intensity magnifying twenty fold. Then, in an awkward change that cannot be explained with physics alone, the squall bent in a ninety degree arc, shooting upward to the sky. This current was aimed for one thing: the spinning Kilix.

As the winds forced their path up at the Liixian, Aiedan was merely on the ground, watching his feline-appearing adversary’s descent. Even with the rate of gravity increasing the speed, the velocity of the winds sluggishly deterred his opponent’s momentum to a much, much slower descent. The kick that Kilix was hoping to use on Aiedan would be useless to him, because he would be unable to gather enough momentum to cause any damage. Actually, if he had even chosen to reach out his foot, he would find that his momentum would be slugged down even further, making it even more useless.

The howling winds would deter the senses of Kilix: If his eyes were open, the breeze would bring his eyes to water and clog his vision temporarily; his nose would be filled with such force that it would change his breathing patterns; his feline ears would be filled with the howling screech of a banshee, his highly advanced sensory of hearing useless to him at this moment. Luckily, this hid Aiedan’s comment from the Liixian’s ears, which would most likely be better for both the Dragonian and the Liixian. Kilix would most likely not want to hear the words, “Here, Kitty, Kitty, Kitty...” coming from his opponent’s lips.

But, Aiedan did not stop here. When Kilix was about a hundred between both fighters, Aiedan jumped into the squall. He was still on the ground, and then kicked off the rocky soil. With the large speed of his winds, Aiedan’s jump would be furthered by his above-average speed. The difference betwixt Kilix and Aiedan had been dwarfed in a matter of seconds. The winds rushed with Aiedan, and not against him; he could see everything clearly, although his hearing was deafened by the howling winds.

His first action would be a closed fist, tossing it up at Kilix’s curled-up back. It would be quite tough for him to avoid such a move-- with his vision blurred, he would only be able to rely on his sensory outputs to determine when Aiedan could and would strike, which would make this strike even more useful to Aiedan. On contact, it would break his momentum, and the winds would push him upward with its monstrous force. Of course, another option would be to teleport away, or simple move out of the way, but Aiedan was prepared for this as well.

No matter where Kilix ended up, Aiedan teleported right behind him, clenching both of his fists together in a roundhouse fashion. He brought them together, and slammed them in attempt to bludgeon the back of Kilix’s skull. As his fists came slamming down, all Aiedan could do was watch and attempt to predict the reaction of his opponent-- nothing more, nothing less.

[Archer]

((What is it with my skull? Kiruna kept doing that… T_T))

Surprise; it’s a funny feeling, isn’t it? You can be prepared for anything, you can have the most heightened reactions to danger in your surroundings in the universe, but a surprise will always be, well, surprising! It’s just that every man, woman and child has a different threshold as to what will surprise them. A newborn babe would have a low threshold of surprise; they have only just been introduced into the world, so anything and everything would surprise them, as they’ve never experienced it before. But a grown man, now he would be much harder to surprise; a soldier, even more so.

And the source of surprise is impossible to define, as it simply sprouts from whatever you don’t expect. It could be a man, it could be a change in your surroundings, but most likely it’s something a lot more extreme than a simple change. A person you thought to be a man, but who was in fact a woman; now that would stir up a lot of surprise in a lot of people. But if the colour of your wall changed from yellow to purple? Not so much, really.

So what of Kilix Gyro? Well, a special Liixan agent like himself was trained to never feel this feeling, for as the Teachings of Battle would say; the winning element is that of Surprise. However, to completely conceal the feeling is impossible; all you can do is heighten your threshold. Now, Kilix had seen two planets ravaged in a matter of hours, and both regain their freedom. He had seen men who changed the colour of their skin at a whim; heck, he’d seen men who became Dragons! It was going to take a lot to surprise him.

Which is, really, why this next sequence of events stuck in his mind for quite some time.

Kilix’s body was being pulled into it’s somersault by the lonely force of gravity-- the force which pulls anything and everything to meet it-- and through the spinning world around him, his eyes caught sight of the Dragonian boy that was soon to be his target. Although his could only fix his gaze upon the man for a fraction of a second, there was something about his facial features that struck the Liixan as a tad worrying; the ominous grin that was stretched easily across his lips.
Oh dear, he thought, That can never be good…

Kilix was now upright once again, his leg extended for the thrust of his strike, and his eyes were fixed on Aiedan; after all, never take your sight off the enemy. Of course, the actions that the man had taken happed in the middle of Kilix’ somersault; all he saw now was the figure of Aiedan, with his arms outstretched, his open palms and extended digits aimed for the Liixan’s body. Kilix could only assume one thing; it was most likely a Ki attack, about to be charged. But, as if in automatic response to his thoughts, an electrical signal pulsed through his brain from the Microchip; there was no disturbance in the man’s energy signature. If it was a Ki attack, his Ki level would surely have begun to decrease.

The air around Kilix began to become choppier, but he thought nothing of it as the stronger winds began to shake his fur. Another assumption came into play; he simply thought that the weather was picking up. So far, just a series of unfortunate accidents. But as the winds began to pick up even further, the harshness of the air around him screeching through his ears like a torrent of angry demons, he soon realised something he should have seen before. After all, on the battlefield, coincidences don’t exist.
Damnit, he mentally cursed, Aerokinesis.

As a confirmation to match his realisation, the winds suddenly blasted upwards in a ninety degree arc; the Liixan warrior taking the direct brunt of this wind tunnel. His eyes began to gloss over as teardrops flooded from their gates over their surface, and his ears were still victim to the cries of the squall. The sudden diminishing feature that affected his momentum hit him almost as a shock; not only did the wind’s power slow him down, as it would any warrior, but the fur surrounding his body caught the wind as it passed, the drag created bringing him to a near standstill in the air.

Kilix was smart enough to realise that this manoeuvre hadn’t been enacted simply to stop his own attack; doubtless, Aiedan would soon be taking advantage of the Liixan’s vulnerable state. And that he did, the Dragonian man pushing himself off the ground and into the aiding force of the Wind, Kilix’s burred vision seeing little more than a lighter smudge around the dark rocks getting progressively bigger; but his Microchip knew better, the device picking up the exact location of his opponents energy signal. Kilix gave a subtle grin, which, due to his angle in the air compared to Aiedan’s, would be completely concealed from his opponent.

When the distance betwixt the fighters was about ten feet, the image of Kilix faded suddenly. To the unobservant observer, it may seem as though he was still there-- especially through the howling gales that surrounded the fighters-- but for Aiedan it would most probably be more than clear that the figure before him was not Kilix. Although it was shaped like Kilix, it appeared to be more of a mesh than a man, wires and strands of faintly glowing energy woven together to make his replica. Due to the proximity to it, along with the added momentum that the wind was giving him, Aiedan would most likely find this very difficult to avoid; and should one part of his anatomy touch it, that would be enough to trigger the explosion. The added effect, of which, upon hindsight, Kilix felt very proud of, was that the funnel of wind that Aiedan himself had created would contain the explosion, wisps of flame and energy would be blown around and away by the force of the squall.

Kilix appeared a few dozen feet along the crumbling pathway on which the Dragonian boy had originally stood. He shook his head for a moment, dislodging the water that had formed across his eyes. However, this was the only moment he was permitted as breathing space, as the warning siren in his mind immediately flared into life, mentally alerting him to the energy signal that had just appeared behind him. Aiedan must have teleported to his position from within the winds. Kilix’ reaction was instantaneous, pushing his feet off the rocky footpath towards the mountainside. Aiedan’s axe strike would meet with nothing but air, as Kilix’ boots once again crunched against the brittle mountain rock, his hand grasping any available area to continue his stalemate against gravity.

He didn’t stay there for long, however, as this would be a rather compromising position for him, what with three of his limbs occupied. No, instead, not more than a moment after his feet had crashed against the rocks, they were forcing themselves away, his body swinging in one swift movement that resulted in the beginning of his next assault; his boot swung in a swift arc, aiming to collide with the side of Aiedan’s neck. Kilix had little hope that his attack would strike, in reality; although the transaction from attackee to attacker had been very swift, past experience taught him that a lot of fighters had the potential to avoid attacks such as this, and Aiedan had already proven himself a more than capable fighter.

After his initial strike, Kilix’ feet met the rocky path of the mountain once again, the Liixan crouching low to absorb the shock of landing. For a moment, his back was to the opponent, and this immediately put him at a disadvantage; to counter this, Kilix used his compressed legs as a spring, bouncing up after the shock-absorbing crouch and pushing himself into a forwards flip. Within a second, his body was vertical in the air, and his eyes had clear sight on Aiedan-- although he was upside-down. Not wanting to let his offensive advantage slip, he raised his arm during his aerobatic manoeuvre, his finger extending as a bulbous globe of energy formed just ahead of his digit. The first Ki dart was launched, and immediately another replaced it, and another after that, a total of three Ki darts shooting towards the Dragonian, the first for the centre of his chest, and the following pair aimed for his alternative shoulders; if he could catch the joints at the right angle, it could easily take his arms out of action for a sizable section of the bout.

Kilix, his forwards flip complete, landed once more on the pathway, and immediately twisted his boot around on the dusty ground to be facing his opponent again; hopefully at a longer range, this time. He locked his vision onto Aiedan once again; failing that, finding his power signature in the surrounding area. His next move would depend on the current situation; if Aiedan was still acceptably in his field of vision, Kilix would rush the Dragonian boy, and send a swift jab into his gut, before pushing himself into the air for an uppercut to his chin. However, if he could not see his opponent, it would be a simple waiting game; prepare himself to react to whatever Aiedan would throw at him, and play it by ear from there.

[Garoten Reklor]

The fans in the stadium were kept on their toes for this match. After the halfway point of the battle, it was still anybody' game. Finally, as so often is the case, the tide turned without warning.

Kilix teleported and left an explosive decoy in his place, but Aiedan was no fool. He immediately sensed the change in power signature and turned to face his oppenent. The decoy was left suspended in the rushing wind. In the end, Aiedan was more than ready to duck under Kilix's kick. However, before he could launch a counter-strike, the little warrior fired again. The three ki darts found their mark and accomplished the desired effect, leaving a surprised Aiedan wide open for the jab and uppercut that effectively ended the match. As Kilix's fist connected and Aiedan tumbled backwards, the announcer's voice boomed throughout battlefield and stadium alike:

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, THE MATCH IS OVER! THE JUDGES HAVE AWARDED THE VICTORY, DUE TO A KNOCKOLUT BLOW, TO KILIX GYRO!!! CONGRATULATIONS, MR. GYRO, AND GOOD LUCK TO BOTH OF OUR CONTESTANTS IN THE NEXT MATCH!"

((It wasn't an easy call, guys. Both of you had fantastic posts throughout. You set up a great feel for the characters and environments - I felt like I was really there watching this fight unfold. The deciding factor for me was simply the disappearance of Aiedan. If Kilix had chosen to autohit, it would have been a pummeling. In light of the quality work on both parts, however, I'm assigning the points for the match as follows: Kilix, 3 - Aiedan, 2. Good work gentlemen!))