Scene #5684: Dog Fight

Owner	Pose
Count Kord	The Shrine of Adversity is set to simulate a fairly sparse forested area, with a clearing in the center. Kord can be found here, seated on a simulated stone, staring at the rustling of the artificial trees. He is deeply distracted by his surroundings. He has one foot pulled up on the round boulder, and his scythe is leaning on his shoulder, the point of the blade pointed behind him. His strange five-pointed, flat tail sways and thumps against the stone. The man is just waiting for the Wandering Dog to arrive, and for them to discuss the terms of their spar. This is the time, and the place, and Kord showed up an hour ago to properly craft a good, comfortable fake location for adequate violence making, using the Shrine of Adversity's simulation system.
Wandering Dog	Wandering Dog doesn't dally. The martial artist arrives right on time, already ready to go. A man in his early 50s with sea blue hair, he's wearing a Chinese-style tunic but is otherwise entirely unarmed, as he approaches the stone. "Count Kord? Wandering Dog." They've never actually met, so he's making sure. There's a crack of his knuckles, as well as a realignment of his neck, as Wandering Dog glances at the tail briefly, before moving to glance around their surroundings and get a good idea of terrain and open spaces. Once that's done, the martial artist speaks up, confidence in his voice. "I'm ready. I'll accept any terms you have, and don't care if you use a weapon. In return, I'll show you what I got." There's a grin, as Wandering dog puts his arms behind his head. He's confident. "Is that fair enough?"
Count Kord	Kord turns his head to look at Wandering Dog. His strange, slit-pupil eyes fixate on the martial artist, the blue hair drawing those eyes. He pauses, even his tail settling. He breathes a sigh and closes one of his eyes. "You look to be the same age as I am," he observes, his voice thick with a strange accent and deep, dracula-like qualities. "Fair enough." He lifts his off hand as he moves to a stand, and flicks it in a motion. As he does so, the shadows beneath Wandering Dog shift backward to try to throw off his footing, solidifying like a carpet being pulled out from under him. This is followed by Kord launching forward with a ferocious forward step that has him close in much faster than any human has any right to do, and try to drive his armored knee right up into whatever solid mass he can hit, preferably the face judging by his trajectory. This kind of tactic would knock mundane men cold in an instant, it is quick and brutally efficient.
Wandering Dog	"People say I look young for my age." Wandering Dog replies, his voice rough but energetic. As Kord moves to take a stand, Wandering Dog shifts into a defensive posture...and is tripped up, sending him off his feet, moving to fly onto his face. But he doesn't. Instead, the martial artist suddenly slams his hand forward into the ground, angling himself up right before pivoting upright. It doesn't allow him to avoid the strike, but it allows him to control where it hits - into his side instead of his face, making a solid 'wumph'. Kord would notice that despite being silk, the martial artist's outfit seems to defend like steel. Wandering Dog lands on his feet a bit away, hand briefly to his side to check the damage, a wince, and then a sprint forward, shrugging it off. "Nice move. Now, take this!" Mid-sprint, Wandering Dog leaps into a pivot, one foot on the ground as he moves to spin into kicking Kord. He's stronger than a normal person, as he tries to slam his foot hard into Kord's stomach.
Count Kord	Kord landed from his knee strike ready to take a hit. The scythe swings down from his shoulder, and he carefully swivels it's momentum around. As the kick comes in toward his stomach, he uses the haft of his weapon to mitigate the brunt of the kick, his eyes widening and his stand widening. The kick sends him backwards a few inches, and he growls inhumanly from the vibration that bruises the tendons in his hands and forearms. But it was enough to keep him from getting the wind kicked out of him. He then takes a step forward, the natural momentum bringing his scythe to the side and forward in a wide diagonal arc, from his right shoulder and down. The slash itself isn't what is really impressive, though. It's the blast of wind that it carries behind it that matters, a force of magical air that slams forward in a much wider range than what the scythe can manage. It's largely just being used as a tool to guide the wind blast. Kord laughs, but energetically. He likes fighting with someone giving a friendly challenge. Part of his reason for asking for the spar was to see if he could get a fight with an equal in combat.
Wandering Dog	Returning to his feet off of the haft of the scythe, Wandering Dog tsks, though it's not serious. As the scythe comes sliding at him, his hands move to block, giving cut up and drawing blood. But the wind blast knocks Wandering Dog backwards and off his feet, slamming into one of the trees with the force to knock someone out. The tunic absorbs most of the blow, leaving Wandering Dog dazed for a moment and coughing, likely carrying some bruises. A moment later, he's back up on his feet, suddenly sprinting up the same tree. Kicking off it at its highest point, he moves to be above Kord, before suddenly dropping mid-launch, body surrounded in a wave of blue and green energy surrounding him. It's simply a visual effect, until it suddenly strikes forward off of the shadow of his hand, moving to bash into Kord's face as the other moves to reinforce his own. "Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!"
Count Kord	Just as Wandering Dog recovers, and prepares to come in for another attack but from the air, Kord does something a little foolhardy. He laughs while he does it, too. He takes a stomping, bracing step, brings his head back, and then prepares to meet the attack as it comes toward him. And he tries to headbutt Wandering Dog's hand with the full density of the metallic half-helm, and backing it with a pulse of shadowy energy. This will, whether it works or not, result in Kord getting hit, and his helmet getting knocked clean off. The helmet flies across the clearing and clacks against the boulder, and he staggers a couple steps, but doesn't quite fall over. He shakes his head, swings the scythe down to embed it in the grass, and then reaches up to pat his cheeks to slap some sense back into himself. He takes a rough pose, his mouth pulled into a big sharp-toothed grin, his inhuman eyes leering past his red bangs. "One more, come on," he demands, his voice husky with a strange bloodlust. His tail snaps and sways behind him like an agitated tiger. Well, at least he looks mostly human. He is painfully strong for a human, though.
Wandering Dog	Wandering Dog wasn't expecting that. Kord had seemed far more calm and methodical from the brief times they'd talked, and so, the martial artist is thrown off, slammed clear in the jaw and sent flying backwards into the grass, skidding from the powerful strike. When Wandering Dog rises, he's bleeding from his mouth. Wandering Dog is also grinning. He grabs his mouth briefly and messes with it, sore and bruised, then begins to realign his body by changing up his breathing and rhythm, before moving to face Kord again. "Glad to see you're enjoying this as much as I am. If that's what you want...let's see how far you can go!" Not that Wandering Dog's going to note that he's actually getting pretty threatened, as he suddenly dashes forward again. "Let's change it up...Striking Fury Claws!" As Wandering Dog moves, it's almost like watching an ink painting, as his movements blur sort of like ink, his strikes oily and letting off smoke. Oil-like energy coats into claws around his fingers, while that halo of energy around him turns into a rippling black. The martial artist moves to strike several times into Kord's chest with lethal force, the Shrine allowing him to show off his full power as he all but roars, crouching like a tiger and showing off a powerful tension in his muscles. That banner of energy, meanwhile, starts crashing alongside him visually and audibly like waterfalls, strange 'trails' weaving in and out of it. It looks like it's struggling to be contained, building power with every technique it uses. Like it might explode.
Count Kord	Never let on to the multitudes that run beneath the surface. Kord had a number of ways to fight, and one of his favorites was being a brutal monster about it. His smile fades as Wandering Dog surges forward again. His eyes quickly flick, trying to track the martial artist's movements. Several palm strikes -- that's what a claw punch is, after all -- would hurt like hell when backed with elemental power and super strength, and so Kord moves to mitigate it. His cloak is pulled forward and blown apart by the first strike, but it mitigates the attack just enough to prevent a direct hit. Then his hands go down and his feet brace, and he tries to use his demigod speed and strength to redirect the hits. There's a loud impacting noise as his expression tenses and the wave of power crashes through him, but he doesn't get knocked down or killed. It's quite a lot like fighting an Exalt, he might find. And from this close, it's clear Kord's physical age is somewhere around twenty or so. Dust kicks up from the power of each hit, and when all is said and done, he takes a step back, coughs and holds up a hand, flat, as a universal 'hold on' gesture. Then he turns to the side and bends at the waist, crouching down and wheezing, grimacing, coughing. "Damn, you're good," he wheezes. Not much else to say.
Wandering Dog	As the strike is mitigated, Wandering Dog's eyes widen slightly as he shifts on his feet, realizing just how powerful Count Kord is. If he didn't know better, Wandering Dog would think he was just like him. The martial artist waits for the counter strike... And doesn't get one. As Kord calls for a halt, Wandering Dog takes a step backwards, still on guard but accepting it. He's been in enough street fights to not completely let his guard down, as he relaxes only slightly. "I could say the same about you. That was an excellent move with the helmet. Now, are we still going, or are you to cough up a lung?" Wandering Dog banters as he waits, focusing primarily on his breathing. "Where'd you learn to fight? Haven't seen much in the way of martial arts schools out in the Multiverse."
Count Kord	A grunt, and a puff, and Kord pushes himself back up to his feet. He wheezes and puffs, because that did knock him for a loop. A fight is a fight, but he has to know when to call it quits in a friendly spar. So he steps over to go get a look at the helmet, picking it up and sitting against the boulder. He looks toward Wandering Dog, his questions given some musing. He doesn't know whether to tell the truth or just leave it a mystery. Considering the man's clearly equal, if not better, in a fight, Kord decides it couldn't hurt to mention. "Self-taught. I had to learn how to fight against a variety of opponents, and not all of them were human. There are certain movements I had to figure out in order to avoid getting killed," he explains. He makes the motions he did with his hands. "Some of the beasts in my world hit like you just did. It can cave a man's ribs. So I got good at keeping it from killing me, at the very least." He puffs, and winces. "You're clearly a master," he mentions, "You'd do just fine in Bayern." He tugs at the chestplate to his armor a bit, and then reaches up to deactivate most of the simulation, to just leave the grass clearing and his boulder. He sighs with relief as it resets their wounds, but not their energy expenditures.
Wandering Dog	Wandering Dog's energy banner ends up fading away, as he keeps himself upright. He's pretty sore, but luckily there'll be no lasting damage, and therefore no need to heal himself and spend more energy. Listening to Kord's story, he nods. "I let loose because it was a simulation. You said you wanted to see what I got, after all. Good to see people who can hold up." Not that those were all of Wandering Dog's tricks, but operating at full output was exhausting in general. As the environment fades, Wandering Dog takes a seat on the ground, cross-legged. "Well, that sounds like a reason to check out this Bayern, then. Always like discovering new places, seeing what they're about. I've spent centuries travelling my world, each direction. The Multiverse is ample ground to see new ones, I'd say." And then, after a few moments of rest, Wandering Dog stands back up, stretching. "Well, good fight. My body's going to remember it, even if it left no wounds."