Skallagrim

[Ranked] Four Way: Convergence of Power

You take your time boss, your family is first, these knuckleheads can wait another day.

[Ranked] Four Way: Convergence of Power

I think if we all bum rushed Rilla and beat him about his noggin he'll get this started.

Arena Chat Thread

@DJAtomika I am planning on pushing your character, if I lose I lose, but I am gonna make you explore the heck outta how to use that dance style in combat. lol

Arena Chat Thread

@GreivousKhan Is right, a lot of people over look the length of the sword, thinking I cannot reach them if they are 6 feet away using magic or some such. A quick step passing guard and a cut along any exposed line, bam someone is suddenly on the defensive and usually in a position where they have to continually react to my advances.

[RANKED] DJ vs Skallagrim - East versus West

Staring intently at the man, who after a moment began tapping his toes, was he mocking me? An thought as he shifted his weight, if he was the man must have supreme confidence in his abilities. Moving a step closer, then another An closed the ten-feet to a half that, the entire while the energies that allowed the young Thai to control gravity sparked, coming alive, this was a fight and those energies naturally came to the fore. It had been only through the training that he was able to control his deadly blows, unaware if this man could handle being the focal point of gravity, An would simply use his techniques holding back his full power unless needed. Although he was not using his power overtly, a slight change occurred in the gravitational pull around them, unless someone were in complete control of their body, adrenaline would disguise the subtle shifting.

From his kicking stance, An quickly turned his body to the right until he was facing directly away from the tap dancer. He would test this man with a quick as a flash spinning hook kick. If it worked, it should knock the man out cold. While turning away he also he pivoted on his left foot, while continuing turning to his right and looking over his right shoulder at Johnny – that axiom drilled into him, he needed to see what he was hitting. Those had been brutal and difficult lessons, but he learned. Thrusting the kick backwards, much like a back kick, and although it was harder to gain the circular momentum, it certainly is a faster and more deceptive kick.

Snapping the kick as it approached the side of the target, Johnny’s head. The intent was to hit the man’s head with the back of the heel, lots of bone, and at the speed it was executed it is a powerful kick able to knock a man out or even outright kill one. An continued sweeping through Johnny’s head, attempting to bring his right leg back to the original starting position, body ready to follow up with his next attack or to counter Johnny’s attack. The entire move happened in the space between heartbeats.

The true test of course would be how this nattily dressed man reacted, how he moved dictated how An would respond. Perversely An hoped the man would avoid the kick, that he would be a competent fighter, that he was someone to offer An a decent fight. Well it never hurt to have dreams did it?

Skallagrim VS Crazy Scion [Combat Training]

Patience, infinite patience was part of the Dreamers. Their lives, what passed as lives, stretched on in eons. Here in this park, on this world, the entirety of the Xindhi people had turned their collective attention. It had been a thousand years, a million seconds, a day or tomorrow depending on how the Dreamer viewed the events occurring.

The Cughtagh, a title bestowed on the greatest warriors among the Dreamers. A title given by the Queen, a title that bore little relevance in the greater multiverse save for those who understood the importance of it. Skallagrim the Cughtagh, champion for the Queen, and more importantly champion for the entire race within him lay the life and death of the man. Before him, the body of Scion lay some feet away. A thousand voices all spoke rapidly in a complex web of dream fragments. The image of the man’s smoldering body framed and locked into the dream, solidified as an enduring image. Yet as that happened, a stirring of dark energies, subtle, barely perceptible occurred drawing the attention of the Cughtagh.

It was a shifting of realities, a trace signature of somewhere both familiar and not. Silence met the gathered Dreamers, all slowly focusing their attention on the man. Something was happening, something special, and something wholly unexpected. Scion was able to enter another dimension, a place of sanctuary. A murmur rippled through the Dreamers, low at first then a crescendo of rapid-fire dream fragments. Through the cacophony a sole voice spoke, silencing all else.

“This Scion, this man, what is your assessment my Cughtagh?"

Skallagrim said nothing, time seemingly slowed to an imperceptible crawl, yet in the realm of the Dreamers it was expected. The question was asked, and an answer had to be given, yet to hasten it would cheapen it. The Dreaming Queen had spoken, every Dreamer, regardless of what they were doing, where they were gave pause.

“He is young, brash, and cocky. He is also capable and worth watching, studying and understanding. Is he a threat to the Dreamers? Is he a threat to you my Queen? No. Perhaps one day he may be, but for now he is not.”

“Then do not kill him. Allow this Scion and his watch to live that we may study them, so that we may learn from them.”

“Yes my Queen.”

Through the entirety of the multiverse, every Dreamer heard the decree and agreed. This man was worth watching; to extinguish him would be a tragedy. Skallagrim had made the assessment and now would carry it out. He would subdue the man; render him inoperable, unable to continue the fight. Lethality was no longer an option.

The Dreamers watched as a portal to a world that no longer had the warmth of a star to warm it opened. It reminded them of Graff’s realm, the land of the Icy Emperor. Skallagrim studied the portal, creating fragments of understanding in the short time of its existence as much as possible. The reason was obvious; a desire to shunt the heat from the park was required for the continuation of the fight. With a few steps, Skallagrim moved back, giving the man and his faithful watch the opportunity to finish their flushing of the heat. As Skallagrim moved, so did the balls of plasma, growing smaller as streamers of energy creating a spider’s web between each of them and the Dreamer.

Skallagrim was drawing the energy to himself, each of the plasma balls shrinking until they were no larger than tennis balls. The writhing black dagger reached out, interacting with the plasma, causing a loud static hum to fill the air. The war sword held loosely but ready shimmering as silver-blue energies raced along it at such speeds it appeared to be made of light.

[RANKED] DJ vs Skallagrim - East versus West

An tried to see over the chaos that had brewed up on the dance floor. Annoyed that he had lost the slimy Rojai he almost missed the man’s question. Then it hit him, the man had asked to fight? Looking down at the man who had spoken, who happened to be dressed in a suit of dark colors, hard to tell in the club’s lighting if it was blue or black. Staring at him a moment, sizing him up, An thought about it a second. Rojai had managed to escape his justice, because of this club and its patrons.

Lowering himself gently, a distance of 10 or so feet between them, as his feet touched the hard cold dance floor; An spoke quietly, “That may not be the wisest thing.” However, it really didn’t matter did it? Rojai could wait, he would wait, there was not a place on earth that An couldn’t find him.

The man before him, in his suit and cocky grin, the suave demeanor screamed that this man was not a normal man. No he was more than just a man, perhaps he was gifted as An was. If so then this would be a nice distraction, for now.

An nodded towards the man, his voice low, barely audible over the music, “Sure. Why the hell not.” With that An set up in the traditional Muay Thai stance, his hands held at about temple level, feet slightly wider than shoulder width apart and back slightly hunched. His weight perfectly balanced between defense and attack. On top of being able to move effectively in all directions, An could generate speed and power with his kicks. If the man before him were a skilled fighter, and he would have to be otherwise he would be on the ground unconscious in a matter of seconds, he would understand that the position of An’s hands and feet proclaimed him a right-hand dominate fighter.

With a quick neck roll, An cracked his neck releasing the tension between the joints. Settling comfortably he waited, watching the man. Around him, those who had avoided the larger conflict realized that what were to happen here would put to shame the general brawling that was happening.

[RANKED] DJ vs Skallagrim - East versus West

An was trying to get through the crowd when it happened, he inadvertently touched something he shouldn’t have while making his way through the crowd. It was something firm, yet supple. Looking at what he held seemed like an eternity, it was a breast, inside a tight red dress. Looking up, An stared into the greenest eyes he had ever seen in his life. Hastily letting go and shaking his hand is if he had dropped a burning stone he stepped back, apologizing profusely as he did.

Before he could finish his uttering, an unmistakable southern drawl filled the air. “Boy, you dun gist made a big, gad-damn mistake.” Snarled the large man who stepped between the girl, who had a sly grin on her ruby red lips, and An. A black Stetson hat, a bright red western shirt, blue denim and brown, ornately scrolled cowboy boots contained the frame of a Texas big man.

An looked up at the man, who clearly towered over An’s six-feet by some six-inches or so. The florid face of the man looked puffy and splotchy. Clearly, he had a little too much to drink and unfortunately, for the cowboy, he believed that his size would be a deterrent. It would not. Raising his hands sheepishly, An smiled and stuttered, “Sorry . . .”

Whatever else An want to say was cut short by the man grabbing An’ shirt.

“Boy, you ain’t git but one time to make a good impression, and you dun fooked it up.” Texas said as he balled his right fist. Everyone started to back away from what looked to be a beating, as An’s shoulders sagged a bit.

“You don’t want to do this.” An murmured.

“What? What, you say boy?”

Without saying another word, An quickly grabbed the left arm of the man and launched a diagonal knee strike up and into the man’s kidneys, just above his hip. The blow, sudden and swift caught Texas by surprise. It hurt. It hurt real bad, but Texas was a brawler, tightening up on An’s shirt he threw a heavy right hand. An shrugged down a bit and launched another diagonal knee into the same spot as the punch glanced off An’s shoulder.

OW!

Then it was on, as An launched a front kick that caught Texas in his gut, knocking him back into another who promptly smashed a bottle on Texas’ head. A quick smile crossed An’s lips as he looked for Rojai. That’s when the man he had originally spilled beer upon grabbed him from behind, lifting An up into the air. As the man smashed him down onto the ground, An managed to break free as one of Texas’ friends sucker punched beer boy.

Scrambling to his feet, An ducked another punch as he kept looking for the waddling mass known as Rojai. As the fight on the dance floor expanded in scope as more drunk men became involved, An stepped back into a man who was drinking a whisky as another punch came towards him. Ducking he stepped on the man’s foot as he retaliated with a deadly barrage of punches and elbows, knocking the drunken man sprawling onto the dance floor.

Turning to the man that he had stepped on, An smiled weakly, ready to apologize when a kick to his back knocked him into man against the stage with incredible force. Again An stepped on the man’s shoes getting some mud on them. Stepping back the young Thai nodded hastily muttering a quick “Sorry” before a quick folding of gravity allowed An to rise a few feet off the ground as he searched for Rojai.

[RANKED] DJ vs Skallagrim - East versus West

This set-up reminds me of a Jackie Chan movie.

[RANKED] DJ vs Skallagrim - East versus West

Yala, Thailand.

The soft rains drizzled atop the corrugated roofs, drumming out a rhythmic sound that both relaxed and set An on edge. Huddled near a small fire in a chopped 55-gallon drum, the lanky twenty-something stared out from under his black hoodie at the desolate street. Muddy, pot-holed and depressingly maintained, the road had been the only street he prowled for the last few weeks. The older men that shared the fire with him smoked horrible cigarettes, drank cheap sangsom whiskey, although technically it was rum, and complained about how things had been much better in their days.

When the iPhone rang, and the old, nearly blind man who complained the loudest hastily answered it, An grinned at the irony.

“This day and age when you carry a phone, it’s not so bad is it uncle?”

The old man glowered at An, turning away and speaking angrily. It seemed his wife wanted to know where he was and where the rice and duck he was supposed to buy were. The others chuckled as they swigged their drinks, the talk turning back to the ‘good old days’. After a while An tuned them out, the purpose of his being in this alley was approaching.

A black Mercedes prowled up the street, the dark tinted windows hiding the disgusting, obese man stuffed in the back. Rojai Raptusawa, a drug dealer, pornographer and child rapist was the owner of the car. An had waited for the slug to make his presence known again. It had been nearly three weeks since the human filth was seen. After all raping and murdering little girls was frowned upon, however because of his connections with the South Thailand Insurgency, he was protected. Well that was all about to change. An had discovered that Rojai favored a prostitute on this street, he always visited her, he always started his debauchery with her. Standing slowly the young man stared at the men around him, they were a decent lot, old men, hard men but men who had dreamt of other days. Bowing slightly to each of the ‘uncles’ he thanked them and darted off into the gloomy night, his foot falls splashing in the puddles, shadowing the car.

The short, waddling man oozed into a shadowy doorway, his body guards standing outside the stairwell, their demeanor bored, lazy. That would be their downfall as An approached along the wall, as the closest guard turned to intimidate him, An rushed him, launching a vicious knee into the man’s groin, causing him to spit blood and groan loudly. The second man, busy pulling a handgun failed to see the 4,500 lb. car lift off the ground until it was too late. With a sickening crunch, the car crushed him against the wall.

An snapped the neck of the guard he held. Then he was off, running up the stairs, he knew where the woman lived. Kicking in the door, he found the apartment empty. Anger welled up inside him until he heard the raucous sounds of the nightclub on the other side of the wall. There was an alleyway leading to a backdoor. A grim smile crossed his lips as he cracked his neck.

###

After making his way into the club, he managed to sneak past several bouncers and found he stood on the edge of the dance floor. Several people stared at him, clearly his attire was not appropriate for the club, but An didn’t care. Nor did he notice that the club was not the type of club found in Yala, it was distinctly . . . different.

Smiling at a cute brunette in a tight blue dress, An barely noticed the man behind him. Nor did he notice the waitress carrying a pitcher of beer, whom he promptly bumped into, spilling the beer on his clothes. Mortified An began apologizing when he spotted the obese Rojai. Forgetting the man, he shoved him away and ran onto the dance floor, stumbling and pushing people out of his way. So focused was he on his prey, that he ignored the protests and just shoved people away in his chase.