A Good Day To Die

[Chromatic]

Thought I'd try to take some time to make a return to Hess parts. And what bette way than a battle? Some housekeeping first:

- I'm traveling right now, and posting via mobile. So a relaxed pace is preferred. Don't be surprised or let down of it takes me a day or two to respond over the next month or so.*
- Preferably one-on-one. Maybe more, since it might provide a little more time.*
- Characters are human, at a near-peak human physique, though considerably more resilient to abuse. No magic or super/meta human abilities.*
- Melee weaponry. Combatants start with a simple wooden staff. More weapons will be available within the setting though.*
- Battle set in a contemporary stadium, though the event is more gladiatorial in nature.*
- No temps required. First two posts (per person) should cover the physical essentials of our characters.*
- Battle to death or incapacitation.

Shane stood still in the tunnel entrance to the stadium arena. Though he wasn't sleeping, or even tired enough to for her matter, his eyes remained closed, rendering the darkness around him meaningless. With deep, calm breaths, he expunged the superfluous thoughts from his mind; thoughts of home, of loves found and lost, and thoughts of his own fears were systematically wiped from his head. In the end, all that remained was one thing: victory, at whatever cost it would come. He had gone through this enough times before to know the game and the process it took to win; it all came down to execution of the process. He nodded his head, and opened his eyes to the darkness in the tunnel.*

A cacophonous harmony of cheers and roars filtered in from beyond the garage-style door. Something had happened outside in he stadium; either someone had entered the arena, or someone had spoken. A moment or two later, a muffled voice speaking over the PA system made its standard comments. Shane didn't catch it he whole way through, but knew what it was about. Words like "only one will triumph," and "with glory and honor on the line," were, without question, used somewhere in the speech.*

Another roar of the audience called forth, and Shane took his cue. Despite being in total darkness, he strapped on his padded vest, and assured that the athletic pants he had been given were just snug enough at his waist. From the darkness, a hand patted his shoulder, and he extended his hand. It was met by a wooden material, spanning roughly six feet in length and having a diameter that made it both durable as a weapon and capable of fitting in his hands. Everyone started these battles with bo staffs, only switching when the walls opened to reveal their other options.*

"It's time," a voice said. Automatically, Shane walked forward, his march perfectly timed with the opening of the door in front of him. At last, he was standing at the edge of a football field sized arena, floored with a material not unlike hardened beach sand. The lights fell onto him, and he squinted a bit. Looking to the crowd, he estimated hundreds of thousands looking down upon him, as always, unimpressed by the five-foot nine-inch warrior standing before them; despite his physique, he was always looked down on, but that was only ever to his advantage. They'd soon see that size meant little in battle.

Redirecting his attentions to the arena, he made his last proration: a pre-tied bandana, with a fade effect of yellow to orange to red came around his head, his good luck charm, if he ever knew one, and one of his favorite possessions. Again, he nodded, acknowledging an opponent that had entered the arena. He walked forward to meet his rival in the center of the arena.​

 

[King Sora X]

Cerden is a man that often comes across as witty, and sarcastic. A mouth on this guy, and he always makes his peers and enemies aware of how sarcastic he can be.. Like, for instance, when he’s in a battle, he often makes fun of the opponent either for the way they look or just the way they act. He rarely shows signs of seriousness. Well, that’s untrue. He does show it when it needs to be. One would probably say that Cerden is a carefree, and very witty douche bag with a bad tendency to not give a flying hoot about most people.

When people look at Cerden, they see a very fit, middle-aged man with shoulder-length, white hair. His eyes and skin share a similar shade of mocha brown. Cerden, as per usual to his lazy-like attitude, was a tad late to responding to the rising of the gates that kept him in his cell of sorts. This cell didn’t really have elegance. It was a very small space, but it served its purpose. Cerden could even hear the cheering from the stadium when had rudely awoken him. Cerden was not a happy camper.

Getting up, Cerden’s clothing trailed in a wavy fashion. Walking through several turns, Cerden found himself at opposite ends of his opponent. He really wasn’t that impressed. Furthermore, he was somewhat blinded by the bright lights, which he soon adjusted to it when he saw the fans cheering them on. The stadium was at the size of a football field, perhaps even larger. Cerden couldn’t move. For some, odd reason, Cerden wasn’t paralyzed because of his fears, oh no. He was frozen due to sheer excitement ; excitement of doing battle, of the blood that would be shed. Yep, this is definitely one of the moments that Cerden was going to be enjoying.

Now adjusted to the lights, everyone could see the clothing that Cerden was wearing. He showed black jean-like pants, a black trench coat that was unhooked which showed Cerden’s rippled abs, which gave the indication that he was more-than physically fit. He had black fingerless gloves that had white buckles on each spot where the knuckles would be estimated to be at. His black boots gave great comfort, and durability to his feet.

In Cerden’s hand, he had a wooden staff of sorts. It was six-feet long, which is just about his height. Actually, it’s exactly his height. He noticed his opponent started walking to the middle. Cerden did the exact same, and within three minutes of walking up the field, they met at center field, and the moment of truth came.

Compared to this guy, Cerden is quite a giant..well only by three inches, but still.

“They keep me locked up for more than forty-eight hours, and I get stuck with the boy-band reject?” Not even wasting time for the insults, Cerden obviously making a crack on his opponent’s good looks. “It’s whatever. I’m Cerden, and your pretty self is…?”
​

 

[Chromatic]

((To be completely honest man, it's been over two months since I posted this battle, and I've rather lost the drive to actually fight it.))