First Annual Unofficial DWMA Royal Rumble~~(Open)

The kick came, however too late. Drake had already moved himself in close enough that the damage done from the kick was minimal. At most it'd leave a bruise over his mid-section and nothing else. This was exactly what Drake wanted. With a firm grip of her blade, now himself holding it at base and close to Iris, the two of them would finally fall to the ground with Drake on top as they had been positioned their entire time in the air. "Oof" Drake groaned as they both fell, his free hand now reaching and grabbing hold the side of her body opposite of her sword hand.

Drake moved in closer as he tried to wriggle his body in between her legs for a superior grappling position. He did feel a bit bad about their positioning as he was a guy and she was a girl but this was a fight and he had to get into the position to win. With both his height and weight advantage it shouldn't be to hard for hi to secure a strong hold of Iris. Drake's hand that was gripping the blade let go and quickly reached forward grabbing at Iris's sword arm in an attempt to immobilize that limb. If he wasn't able to grab her arm in the place he wanted too he'd surely be able to grab her somewhere along the arm and restrict her movements. "Sorry about this" Drake whispered as he used his body weight to lean forward and throw his head for another Forest Strike - Headbutt.

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*BOOM*

*chink-chink*

The thunder of the shotgun roared out, the bean bag projectile Flying out of the barrel at 500 feet per second, chased like a bat out of hell by the tounge of flame that lappes at its back. Flying straight into the midsection of another combatant, who fell flat on his ass, clutching his ribs as he spat blood into the sand.

That makes eight. He'd been lucky so far, after that cowardly swordsman, he hadn't been touched, never mind harmed. Though his head still hurt, as blood matted his blonde hair. Another combatant ran at him, screaming at the top of his lungs, his weapon above his head, his chest exposed.

*BOOM*

*Chink-chink*

That made nine. Cyrus looked up from the carnage, towards a tight-knit group of other battlefield-clearers. A Weapon that apparently was a solo shield, dancing about. A So-called samurai, Her voice loud but her sword dull. He wondered if it was purposeful or not, as the sheild caught her easily. Was she that bad, or he that good? And on top of that, We had a certifiable giant, throwing punches like Muhammed Ali, about to tango with the Samurai, but then switching to an Indian...no, Native American was the Right term. Seems Like Gigantor over there was the popular one, As the loudmouth started Yelling warnings to him. Pierce, That was his name. Pain in the ass. Though he did give him the Bahemoth's name.

OI!!!! Damian!!!! Wanna hand with this Salaud? Cyrus Yelled over the battle as he shot another Bean bag at that Axe guy. No idea his name, But He had to go. With Damians brawn and Cyrus's Shotgun, Woe be unto those who stood against them.

If he accepted

A sense of joy rose up deep within Zeek once his challenge had been accept. Though it came with a remark the teen stood unmoved by the comment, already set on the fight to come. There was once a time when such verbal warfare would be enough to arouse his aggression. But long had it been since such buffoonery swayed his actions. His demon had been subdued and tamed into something much more potent. In opposition to his tranquility, much like the tail that stands adjacent to the head on a coin, a wrathful entity swelled. All anger and additional impurities are siphoned from the farthest corners of Zeekiel's mind and allowed to stow and brew.

However...

Every so often through the act of engaging in conflict the entity emerged and was allowed to relieve itself, providing fuel for a false rage conjured in the heat of battle. Even now the fact remained true, as the being glared beyond the teen's eyes and out towards the large student it sought to strike down. With its presence Zeek's breathing became a steady stream of heaves as if the body wished to acquire more air than was actually necessary. But it worked, it got the blood to flow more vigorously in preparation for the task at hand.

The beast raged within urging the vessel to move forward in reaction to their opponent. Quickly Zeek's legs carried him across the body littered arena. The distance between the combatants was dwindling and while speed was in favor of the weapon, his opponent had a far greater arm length due to his size. Upon entering the denouement of their rush towards one another the vessel descended into a slide to avoid Damien's introduction jabs while shifting into the more compact form of an onyx tomahawk that would proceed to slide through the legs of the attacker due to the initial momentum of the action.

A shot was fired followed by the voice of a guy who was apparently there to assist Zeek's target. And as quickly as his mass had condensed, so too did it reemerge directly behind Damien in a crouching position. Without hesitation he struck making a large sweeping motion with the bladed edge of his forearm to lead the arch as he aimed to sever the foe's tendon just below the back side of his knee cap, with the length of the arch being enough to include Damien's other leg in the path of the strike.

Of course things couldn't be left so open ended, granted an additional combatant was now targeting him and appeared to be the one who had sent the shot flying by where he formally stood. Following his attack to the legs Zeek would rise, springing up to his normal height while attempting to push the blade of his other forearm upwards trailing it alonf the target's back as a means to cut Damien from his lower back up along the backside of his ribcage and ending a the bottom of his shoulder blade. With such a huge mass it would surely be difficult to avoid the assault.

Damien grinned as an unknown voice yelled out to him. Probably just one of the dozens who heard Pierce's unusually loud voice. "Whatever, just one more fella to beat down.[/i]" Damien thought with an unusually stubborn, hangdog grin. Still, he was pleasantly surprised when the voice actually offered him help. He was just Mr. Popular today, huh? Still, no reason to turn the man down- especially against a dangerous Demon Weapon. "Feel free, mate! It's a royal rumble, so I ain't gonna stop you. Vayamos! Let's go!"

Damien turned back to his target, but that single moment of distraction had cost him. Somehow, the Tomahawk had gotten behind him, and Damien hated blades at his back just on general principal. Damien quickly spun to his right, trying to make it around in time. As he did so, Damien's moving foot caught on a moaning, crippled student and tripped him up.

That one movement probably saved his boxing career. As Damien fell backwards, he saw the knife that had aimed to literally cut his legs out from beneath him. The adrenaline had momentarily blocked the pain, but Damien could see the swelling river of blood welling from his left leg. "Why, you little bastard...[/i]" Damien thought with a snarl. Gone was the usual smile. Anyone who dared to damage his boxing career would be destroyed without regrets. "Buzz off, asshole!" Damien cursed through the mounting buzz of pain as he drew the pistol from his waistline, aiming it even as he fell. Damien squeezed off three accurate rounds at Zeek's crouched body at point blank range before his back made contact with the grou- sorry, moaning student. Well, at least it was a soft landing. "Stay at right angles! Don't let him get between up and cause a crossfire!" Damien called out to his unknown ally.

Iris was dazed for a moment after hitting the ground, her eyes closed out of reaction to the impact. She awoke to a very... compromising position. She struggled for a moment but found herself unable to lift the Demon Weapon off of her. The embarrassing nature of it distracted her to the point that she barely noticed the boy was coming in for a headbutt. What was it with guys and headbutts?! The Demon of the Fist tried one too, but unfortunately she was unable to simply lean back at a speed greater than he was coming in. Still, she's seen enough headbutts to know the target, so she curled her head inwards to keep the boy's head from crashing into her nose bridge. Instead the two would simply be knocking their head together, and while it would keep her from getting a broken nose, she might have just made it worse, as it was disrupting her consciousness. She felt like she was going to black out for a second.

Then it hit her. Well, the headbutt definitely hit her, but so did an idea. She couldn't break free of this hold, so she'd let him think he's won. She let her head fall back and let it look like her eyes rolled back into her head as her eyelids closed. This was it. He either bought it and backed off or he would strike again and end it. To complete the charade she let her hands slip off the sword and sheathe as well. In reality she really was half hoping she did pass out. Not only was this position embarrassing as hell but to lose so quickly to a DWMA student? It's all but confirms the taunt of the first Meister she met back in her home town.

"Not bad, but that's all you can do on your own."

She wanted to remember what that Meister looked like so she could find him and make him eat those words. That motivation was enough to keep her wanting to make an impression here.

The wrath inside felt but a small bit of satisfaction as blood flowed from the path Zeek's blade had taken along Damien's leg. But it wasn't enough. It served as but a tiny taste, but the entity craved a full course meal. A feast. It lusted for more bloodshed and was keen on perceiving an opportunity to sank its fangs into additional helpings. So watched, identifying that the motion of Damien's hand was an indication that he sought to retrieve an additional weapon of some sorts. Most likely a gun.

Reaction.

He moved, without much concern of what type of weapon Damien was drawing, but more so because of the hunger he sought to curb. He pushed forward just as the gun was coming into scene, propelling himself in the same manner as when he first entered the arena. However the path he traveled was offset and at angle. He was not stupid enough to stay along the path the gun was aiming as he approached Damien.

As a result in the slight shift in the angle of his path Zeek would be relocated well beyond Damien's position. But as he passed Damien's then airborne body the he attacked, throwing a bladed forearm out to deliver a slash along his foe's left arm. But it was fine he had managed to get in and get out, creating significant distance the moment things began to turn in favor of his opponent.

He returned to his neutral position keeping his body facing his downed opponent, while his other senses worked to keep track of an unwanted guest.

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<sub>Name: Blitz
Level: Average
Description: This self resonance drastically increases the force exerted when Zeek takes a step, propelling him forward with astonishing speed. Essentially he can cross a distance of two meters with one use of this ability, however it forces his motion to mimic a vector pattern meaning he can only move in a forward motion, then must initiate another use of the ability in order to change direction.

[[This technique can only be used once per post, with a three post cooldown for every two uses.]]</sub>

Damien cursed as the speedy little sucker managed to actually avoid getting shot. "How the hell did he manage to avoid bullets? Is he freakin' Superman or something?[/i]" Damien thought, more than annoyed at the lackluster results. Unfortunately, he had more pressing matters to deal with. Somehow the speedy punk managed to get speedier. And judging from his target, he just got punkier, too. Immediately noticing the Tomahawk aiming for his beloved left arm, Damien reacted faster than he ever had in his life. Twisting his arm inside, Damien put the main body of steel between his arm and the Demon Weapon's.

Damien let a satisfied smirk settle on his face. "Good. Now it's time for a little retribution on your little punk ass.[/i]" Damien really did not like this guy. Who the hell did he think he was? Yeah, it was a royal rumble, but these were his fellow students, dammit! You sent them home with a bruised head, and maybe a broken arm- but still things that would heal! You didn't aim to cripple them! Now Damien was truly angry. There would be no more holding back.

Slowly rising, like an unholy zombie from the grave, Damien turned around, glaring at Zeek. "Fine. That's the way you wanna play it, huh? Try it again, playboy- see what happens!" Damien snarled. He threw the pistol into the air, catching it with his right hand. Damien spun the pistol around his trigger finger, old habits and memories welling up inside him. Damien aimed the pistol right at Zeek's heart, then assumed a boxer's stance with the gun still aimed.

"Yo, buddy." Damien called out to his unknown helper. "You see a shot, you take it. Try to avoid me if you can help it." His eyes never left Zeek's chest. "Alright, buddy, try to dodge me now." Damien muttered as he squeezed off two shots, rushing in with his left fist clutched near his chest, ready for his favorite punch.

He connected.

Albeit partially, successful. The Forest Strike - Headbutt made impact over his opponent's forehead. He gritted his teeth in response to the assault. His muscles tensing and the hold over Iris's limbs grew stronger. He could feel the lifelessness from his opponent fade away as her grip over her sword fell limp. The pain from the initial head butt was mutual between the both of him. He felt his own brain rattle as he gave it all he had. Luckily for him his physical tolerance was kicking in. His natural wavelengths affinity for adaptation was beginning to arise as he felt a small portion of the pain numb away.

Ten percent.

It was all he was capable of at the time. Able to sedate ten percent of the pain. Ten percent of the worry. Ten percent of the problems.

He threw his head back and took in a deep breathe right after he collided with Iris's head. "Forest Strike.... Head-butt!" He proclaimed as he went in for a second strike. His head impacting over the girl's face. If she wasn't unconscious before, she was definitely out now. Drake had to do this. He had to win. This girl came into DWMA territory and announced an open invitation as if she put herself above everyone here.

Drake accepted this invitation to battle on behalf of every other DWMA student at the academy. He had to triumph or else what would it say for the academy?

Moreover,

He loosened.

His grip on the young woman and backed up from the body. The chaos of the rumble was still alive though slowly dwindling as everyone who had intended on joining had already joined and the numbers of combatants were still declining through combat.

He looked around.

His visions still slightly dazed from the second head-butt though his physical tolerance was doing it's job in keeping him sane, stable, and aware of his surroundings. His attention settled on Zeek and what seemed like the two guys he was fighting. He already had it in his mind that he was going to turn this two on one into a two on two once he got himself back to a hundred percent.

He suddenly moved, bringing himself to his feet. The sudden movement agitated the bruise he received from the kick in his life fight. He winced and instinctively placed his hand over it for comfort. He had to rest for a second, catch his breathe. Hopefully Zeek could hold out, he'd be there in a second.

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Cyrus watched as Damian struggled with Flash the Axe's crazy speed, Flitting behind and around, even avoiding getting shot. The little bastard was fast, he'll give him that. And that made him dangerous, his almost blatant disregard for his fellow fighters obvious as he tried to chop off Damian's left arm, Infuriating the Giant. But he just couldn't keep up. Not at his current speed.

Damian was pissed now, Issuing the almost stereotypical "Come and have a go" challenge, spinning the little .40 cal P99 around his finger, cowboy style. Cyrus Almost facepalmed, wanting to yell at him for the imbecilic act. Cowboys could do that because the Revolvers were single action! The modern pistol could very well discharge directly into his...Sensitive areas. Which, while very funny at the time, would not be good against their most unfriendly opponent. But he didn't

'Cause while the very large and very attention-holding Damian was issuing this challenge, Cyrus had been moving into that right-angle'd position, trying to get as close as he could to Flash the Axe without actually being in range of said axes. He couldn't target two people with those axes of his, and if this worked, one of their attacks would hit. And Both broke bones.

Damian finished his speech, trying to close the distance with his pistol pointed directly at his opponent's chest. Cyrus was about eight yards away now, which was close enough for now. He breathed deep, focusing on the Demon Axe's kneecaps, watching them slow down, his movements sluggish. The sound of the battle began to draw away, His heart beat the only thing he heard. He Really hoped no one stuck up behind him right now. Then this would break, and this was kinda a one use thing if it broke.

*Ba-Dum, Ba-Dum, Ba-*

*BOOM*

The Shotgun roared again, Belching out another projectile, Followed again by the infernal tongue of flame that was muzzle flash. Cyrus had given the projectile a slight lead, accounting for Flash the Axe's movement, so that it would fly directly into the his kneecaps, and hopefully breaking them. It would be cruel, yes, but after the bruality this weapon had shown, He felt justified. Turnabout WAS fair play, after all.

Try and be fast now, Cher

So much had happened, and so quick. The doctor was definitely ignoring the fact that an obviously older female, who didn't go to this school was participating. He was also trying to ignore the obnoxious Dadao, who made it her business, to be in everyone's business. Usually, which he couldn't help but notice, she was hanging around that pain in the butt Kaneko-kid. The video that she was taking would no doubt be all over the internet, and the two of them would reap the benefits from more subscriptions on every social network there was...but Dr. Nowak knew nothing of those things. Sure he had a Facebook...and that was it. There was no need to conform to anything else, and he certainly wouldn't find his way to Yuu's god-awful fashion blog. "Eva Liu...I hadn't noticed you." Anything to ruin her fun would satisfy him right now...Even something as simple as avoiding her question.

Cyrus McFadden had also frustrated him...The student certainly would have benefited from the deal. Why wouldn't he just accept things? Either way, Dr. Nowak had his own money, and the betting began. Sitting in the center of the spectator zone was a small pile of cash, that was only growing as the action continued. The school nurse had bet on the Demon Shield, and Damien Lier making it to the final two standing. It wasn't really him assessing the opponent's shown skill...It was more a measurement of them on a physical level. Both Drake, and Damien seemed to be much more physically capable than the others...even by DWMA standards. But that samurai girl...She was starting to get slightly interesting. It would be understandable if she was a DWMA student...but she wasn't. Somehow she took a direct hit from that headbutt, and wasn't completely knocked out. The man turned to look at Eva Liu once more. "If we're considering the team-up between Dominick(Damien), and the samurai girl...and the fact that she has displayed a high amount of skill...the best bet would be on her making it to the last two. Something is about to awaken in her...and the Kurogane(Drake) kid won't know what hit him. As for Silas(Cyrus), and that Flash Step Tomahawk...They have a higher probability of being knocked out. Both of them by Dominick. He certainly won't let Silas stay on his feet after they double team the Demon Weapon...Or at least not if he were smart.

Clang.

His blade collided with metal instead of flesh. Though it was an unsatisfactory result he did managed to continue forward and create some breathing between himself and his massive adversary. What a difficult one. It was great to have finally found an actual opponent out of those who joined the rumble. The feeling was great, but it was also accompanied with a great deal of annoyance. The irritation was brought on by the third party off in the distance who apparently was keen on assisting the meister Zeek had been fighting. Both of them were armed with guns, which was probably the most annoying thing of all. Firearms always took the fun out of fighting. Guns were only enjoyable against those who also had guns.

Bleh.

He worked his breath attempting to calm his heart rate as much as possible before he needed to take off again. While doing so he strode, his gait was daunting and identical to the walk a serial killer in horror films may have. Except in this case the figure was that of a silver haired, tan skinned gentleman whose image screamed Native-American warrior.

A warrior he was indeed.

He didn't move forward but instead in a circling pattern that would help maintain a certain distance between himself and Damien, who by now was returning to his feet and working a fancy method of switching the gun from his left hand to his right. He watched as the student aimed the gun at him, also catching his first glimpse at the other gun wielding participant that was attempting to take him out.

"Alright, buddy, try to dodge me now."

The taunt alerted to only one thing, which Zeek reacted to in the most mediocre of ways. He transformed once more, morphing his figure into that of the black tomahawk. While it seemed pretty simple it proved to be effective as he dropped to the ground with a clank, once more avoiding Damien's attempt to make use of the gun.

In addition to the shots fired from Damien another had irrupted in the distance sounding reminiscent of the one that aimed at him a few moments ago. It must have come from the irritating sidekick. What a persistent one.

It may have been luck, or sheer coincedence, but in reducing his mass in such a significant way he seemed to have avoided shots from both attackers. But time had been used up and he could hear steps approaching his location. No doubt it would be Damien, but was now truly lost on what to do.

*BOOM*

And he was quick.

Carrying steps muffled by the sound of the shotgun sound. The Demon Shield was sprinting to his target. Having rested for a second he had regained himself both mentally and physically, his previous opponent most likely unconscious... knocked out from the second, follow up headbutt.

He moved.

Quick steps covered few feet as he was initially very close to Cyrus before he even took off. As soon as he got within a meter of Cyrus, Drake reached out. The forward momentum would carry him to his destination with both hands outstretched from behind. He would aim to grab Cyrus's left and right arm in an under-hook grab. With Cyrus at only five foot seven and a hundred and forty pounds. He'd be shorter and lighter than Drake by a good portion allowing the Demon Shield to gain a stronger, more dominant hold if he caught him. As the Demon Shield would try to grab at Cyrus's arms he would kick out with his left leg aiming for the back of Cyrus's knee cap in an attempt to break the shotgun touting Meister to his knees;

[/size]

Damien continued his rush towards the Native American tomahawk, desperate to take out the sadistic madman before he could hurt anyone else. Damien winced as his leg started to hurt. The cut was no more than a bee-sting in terms of actual danger, but it was long and it hurt in the same way a papercut did. It probably would also help if Damien didn't slam 200+ pounds into it with every step. "Adrenaline, where are you? I kinda need you right now..." Since the adrenaline was not quick in forthcoming, Damien supposed he would just have to do this with willpower until his body finally smartened up.

Unfortunately, 'Flash the Axe' had other plans. As both Damien and Cyrus fired for the madman, he did quite possibly the one thing that would save his skin: he transformed into his weapon form. And while Damien had slept through 90% of all his classes, he did remember the teacher telling him this much: weapons are nigh invulnerable in their full transformation mode.

"Dammit! What the hell am I supposed to do now?[/i]" Damien cursed silently. But, as always, an unformed idea popped into the back of his head, and Damien decided to follow it- after all, it's not like the front of his head was giving him any plans. In the middle of his sprint, Damien jammed the pistol back into his belt loop and went for Zeek, both arms fully outstretched. Without losing any of his momentum, Damien skipped, bent low to the ground, and picked up Zeek. Gritting his teeth, Damien could feel his hands starting to get uncomfortably warm, but the gauntlets would hold for long enough to help. "Dammit! Why the hell is a small axe so heavy?[/i]" Damien gritted his teeth as he continued his short sprint, Zeek in hand. Spinning once, twice, three times, nearing the circle's edge, Damien let Zeek fly, with all of the power and momentum Damien could build, towards the outside of the ring. Taking a short second to regain his composure, Damien took out the pistol from his belt loop and trained it on Zeek, using both hands to hold it in place. "C'mon... Transform now, mate... After all, there's nowhere to run in the skies.[/i]" The moment Zeek transformed back into his human form, Damien would unload the remainder of the magazine into his chest.

Feet Pue Tan!
Cyrus let the bean bag fly downrange, hoping that with the extra little bit Soul Hone gave him, He might actually be able to take this guy down, and if not, at least knock his pretty little kneecaps out of socket, like the Italian gangsters did in the thirties. Boom, right in the knee. And that's what was gunna happen here. At least, that was the idea.

Until that little Merde Decided that instead of keeping that gung-ho, "Imma gunna kill ya" attitude that the Speedy tomahawk had carried, faced under the gun, literally, of the two of them firing, He had decided to curl up into his itty-bitty tomahawk form, like a turtle in his little Native-American Shell. That just happened to make him almost invulnerable, so It was effective in stopping their combined attacks.Which didn't Stop Him from trying in his frustration.
*click*

Or not. That little, almost imperceptible sound told Cyrus that this gun was done. He released Soul Hone early, dropping the ammo-less firearm on the ground as he did so.He had More ammo, the left pocket of his jeans was full of it. It just would take too long to reload, costing him precious time where he would be defenseless, pushing shell after shell into the tube magazine underneath the barrel. It was too slow anyway, Its limited magazine and slow projectile speed wouldn't help, only hinder in a fight like this. He drew his trusty .454.

The world returned to its usual loud self, the cries of the injured and the roar of the bloodthirsty crowd coming back into sharp relief. He could hear it all. It was one of the few things he didn't enjoy about Soul Hone, its power over his hearing. He was a musician. hearing was everything.He heard everything.

He heard the footsteps of someone behind him,But sadly had only enough time to turn before his attacker was upon him. The Demon Shield, Drake, he believed, had apparently finished his last fight, and had decided that Cyrus was a good next victim...Maudit. He had seen the shield in action, dropping people much bigger and much more powerful than he.Well he can stick that where the sun don't shine, cause like hell was Cyrus gunna stay down. Sometimes he wanted to, sometimes he Damn well aught to. But like hell will he go down. Not without taking the weapon with him. This all ran through Cyrus's head as his opponent Ran forward, looping his arms under his own, apparently trying to incapacitate his arms when Drake was still behind him. Now it equated into some kind of odd bear hug..which still hurt like the dickens. But his arms were free, in sorts. Which gave him an opportunity. Cyrus stuck the barrel of the pistol into the approximate area of his kidneys, and fired.


Right as Drakes foot connected with Cyrus's knee.

The footsteps drew closer, and sure enough Damien's figure came into view. His massive form damn near eclipsed the sun as reached down and attempted to lift the demon weapon while he was fully transformed. It was an idiotic attempt befitting a large brute like Damien. It was damn near impossible for someone to hold a demon weapon who's soul isn't synced with their own. By some how the oaf got the idea in his head that attempting to pick him up was the best option available.

Oh well. It was his funeral.

His view shifted slightly as Damien grabbed him, unable to lift him from the ground as he attempted to continue to move forward. But it didn't last long, what ever the meister had planned would be foiled as Zeek shifted back into his human form. The handle Damien attempted to maintain a grip on had now become Zeek's left leg, which was more than triple the girth of the tomahawk handle. But that would be the least of his concerns, because Zeek didn't hesitate.

No.

He struck taking advantage of the close distance the moment he reverted back and slashed quickly aiming at Damien's biceps. But the Native-American was well beyond the point of holding back, although the wounds inflicted did pose enough of a threat to Damien as to eliminate the use of his arms, the meister would recover in time. So it was of no concern and wasn't something worth halting his counter attack.

So Zeek continued, following the first strike from with a downwards chop to Damien's shoulder with using other hand. This follow up while quite unnecessary would cut deep into the meister's shoulder. Even with the succession of the first slash Zeek was fairly certain his bout with the large teen would be over, but the cleaving strike to the shoulder was just a bit extra to damage the boy's will just as much.

All the while a menacing smirk was plastered on Zeek's face despite the tense glare that remained in his eyes. He enjoyed the fight but was equally upset about the use of guns. "Punk ass bitch...." He spat at his opponent in a combination of a gleeful yet thoroughly heated toned.