Colosseum - Round 1, Group A - Ruby Rose vs Wakka

[Storyteller]

Ruby Rose stood before the giant colors of the Kingdom. She really had no need for the equipment behind her, but she found it a nice thought nonetheless.

On the other side of the battlefield, Wakka scowled as he looked around. As far as he could tell, there wasn't any water here, and the racks behind him were covered with weapons. The only thing that looked normal was the completely raucous crowd up above. "This doesn't look like a Blitzball competition..."

Someone gestured for silence, and just like that, there wasn't a sound in the building as Victor von Magnus walked onto the small platform near the center of the massive structure. With a smile, he picked up the padded hammer and smashed it into the gong, signalling the fights to commence.

Judge – Sinestro

Ruby Rose posts first, and he may do so anytime after 6 pm CDT/7 PM EDT.

Description of fight area and other information can be found here - <!-- l --><a class="postlink-local" href="http://omniverse-rpg.com/viewtopic.php?f=28&p=44961#p44950">viewtopic.php?f=28&p=44961#p44950</a><!-- l -->

Please refer any questions to that thread.

Word Limit: 750
Posts: 3
Time Limit: 48 hours
SP use is enabled. SP does not regenerate between rounds. Injuries may occur. Neither injuries nor SP use are factored into judgment, only the quality of writing.

[Ruby Rose]

Ruby unclipped the folded, scarlet weapon at her waist, taking a good gander at her opponent. He didn't seem like much of a threat; all he held was a studded, blue and white ball, but the Huntress knew better than to judge by appearances. With a swift, sharp flick of her wrist, the crimson rectangle smoothly shifted its form; a handle swept out the bottom, a barrel extended out the front, a bolt followed the same mechanism at the side and a scope emerged from the top. She raised the rifle to her face and shut her left eye, slowing her breathing to halt the shaking in her hands. It'd been quite some time since she last participated in a real fight... but her pride could only deny a loss.

Her right eye gazed analytically down the shimmering scope, the glass magnifying her opponent. His expression was one of bewilderment, as if he wasn't aware of the situation he had thrown himself into... with a pitiful expression, Ruby slammed the bolt of the rifle back and firmly pulled the trigger, launching a screaming, white bullet from the barrel and narrowly over the golden wave atop the ball-player's head. She lowered Crescent Rose from her silver eyes and raised her voice to call out. "You realise we're supposed to be fighting, right?" She asked, and as if some bright spark illuminated the man's mind, his lips formed an 'O' shape, before he took a step forwards and slung the ostensibly impromptu weapon towards Ruby. With a smirk, the black and crimson clad girl rolled off to the left, feeling the ball soar past her skirt.

Satisfied with her supposed quick reaction, Ruby propped herself up with the barrel of her rifle and patted her skirt down, tidying her image somewhat. She lifted the compact firearm back to chest level, until she heard a whizzing behind her. Instinctively she gave Crescent Rose a sharp flick, and the crimson sniper-scythe spiralled outwards to her full glory, hardly deflecting the incoming ball with the needlessly long shaft. The impact knocked the girl off balance and she fell flat onto her rear, clutching the lengthy hybrid firearm to her petite body with an iron grip. If she lost the weapon... the best she could hope to do was only survive with her speed.

Grunting, she planted the spike at Crescent Rose's pommel into the earth and levered herself up once more. Certain that nothing absolutely devastating had been inflicted upon her, an ecstatic smirk slowly transformed Ruby's lips like some puppeteer. The ebony-haired huntress swung Crescent Rose in a wide, over-head arc, splitting the earth in front of her and anchoring the colossal, moon-mimicking blade. Planting her feet firmly into the dusty earth, Ruby bent low like a predator ready to spring and placed a silver eye to the scope once more. The ball wielder was charging up yet another almighty launch, a danger which Ruby wasn't terribly fond of facing. In an attempt at killing two birds with one stone, Ruby pulled the trigger as swiftly as possible, sending another searing white bullet barreling into her opponent's right hip as he let the ball rip.

Ruby allowed the entire force of the recoil to enter her body, launching the young teen backwards through the muggy air. Her glittering eyes gazed on in crude suspense as a bulbous figure tore through the air over her face, the small bumps barely whipping past the tip of her nose. Her rose-tipped hair wildly flailed around and brushed against the deadly toy as it finished its transit past her. Her body hit the ground and she landed upon her shoulder; not a pleasant impact in the slightest. However, the Huntress clambered to a standing position desperately. If I don't hurry, that ball's gonna come back and hit me, she worried in her head, her lips arched in a bitter frown. She raced against the clock to reach her planted weapon. She could feel the ball hot on her tail...

Reaching out, her heart beating furiously and her pulse threatening to burst from her wrist, Ruby grasped the bulky shaft of her weapon and she pressed down, launching the blade from the earth and behind her upon the ground once more. A brisk, although haphazard pull of the trigger blew Ruby away, the blade of her scythe ripping across the arena. A jubilant grin on her pale lips, Ruby swung the immense weapon towards the male competitor.

Allowing Wakka to choose how he evades the attack if he (most likely) wishes to do so

[Red]

This was no Blitzball tournament—there were no goals, no scoreboard, and no giant water bubble, containing the competitors. Not even a damn referee. This was some twisted gladiatorial slaughterhouse, filled with carnivorous spectators, whose mouths flooded with saliva like a dogs staring at a half-eaten leg of meat. They roared and chanted, mostly in drunken, partially understandable slurs, as the windowed-in competitors fought just for the right to survive.

Wakka took a huge step backwards, retreating the proximity of the female’s scythe. The multi-faced weapon ripped upward, kissed the top of the invisible barrier—with a scrape that ignited a flare of sparks—and arced back over her red cloak, resting onto her shoulder. It missed its target, but not without striking mild fear into the Wakka. She had almost stripped him of the balls that really mattered, leaving a clean cut on his trousers, which ran from between his legs up to his belt buckle.

“What the—“ Wakka dipped his head down (thank Yevon) and let out a sigh of relief, as he saw the whole in his pants. But he couldn’t pay it much attention; the sound of a foreign, yet familiar, caught his ear.

His female enemy (something Wakka would consider blasphemous, if not for her attempt on his life) smashed a box-shaped clip of ammunition into the bottom half of her scythe. She preferred Machina—fancy hoo-ha technology, forsaken by Yevon’s teachings—and wielded it like a true devil.

From past experiences, Wakka knew firsthand how powerful Machina was, and could be. But, those who invested in Machina also relied upon far too heavy, almost protecting it like a baby . . . or an abused drug. Yes, that was the term Wakka meant, the latter.

If he could strip the woman of her drug, she would undoubtedly go after it, by any means; that’s what addicts do. He stared at how she maneuvered her weapon, and how she controlled it. Like a sword, or like a paintbrush—firmly, or loosely. Her grip appeared relatively firm, but she did tote it with a touch of grace. The question really was it by design, or a flaw in handling.

He glanced over towards his Blitzball, which had returned to him, rolling next to his right. He grabbed it, and curled his fingers around the nodes of it, so he could possess the ball with only his right hand.

One good shot, that’s all I need, he thought as he reanalyzed the woman’s handling. Accurate enough to hit her hands, but strong enough to drill them, and pry that all-in-one Machina from her grasp.

Time was running out, though; she motioned her scythe’s butt against her shoulder, and then it began its transformation once again, into a long-nosed, distance-based Machina.

The time was now! Wakka reaffirmed his mark, but right before pulling the trigger, he took a gander at the fissure that ran jaggedly next to the right of to the two. If he could pitch his ball into the trench, without it losing the curvature to hit the woman’s hands, he could knock the weapon from her grasp in a stealthy way. Wakka was never the type to go against his instincts. With a cock of his arm, he shot the ball through the fissure, and watched as it progressed towards his foe.

Attempting to knock Ruby’s weapon from her hands. You can play it how you want—knock the ball away, dodge, or lose the weapon temporarily and retrieve it, or whatever comes to your imagination. :)

[Ruby Rose]

Ruby's eyes flew wide with shock as the ball-player simply back-pedalled away from her deadly reap, and the vibrations coursing through her body from the scraping against the barrier were terribly unpleasant. To compensate for the momentum, she took a step back and dampened the backswing by bearing shaft to shoulder. The Huntress leaped backwards twice to create some much needed distance between the blond man and herself.

As her silver eyes set upon her opponent's trousers, however, she clutched the machine tightly to her chest and broke into a roaring giggling fit. She could not comprehend what she had managed! Coughing, she recalled her senses to the present and slipped the crimson cartridge out of the bottom of the sniper, soon replacing it with one of an orange hue, scarlet cylinders packed inside. She slammed the ammunition back in and took aim at her foe.

"Mind if I have the name of the guy I'm shooting?" She asked, attempting to make small talk with the stranger. The glass before her eye panned around the man's vicinity... and when it did so, something was horribly off. Time to hear her opponent's reply was nought as she back-pedalled, preparing to run, but she had already wasted enough time. She felt a solid object crush her hand into the side of Crescent Rose, the crimson polearm shooting out of her grip as the ball returned to its wielder.

Tears welled up subtly in the girl's eyes as she favoured her injured, possibly shattered hand. With bated breath, she watched as the hybrid machine plummeted into the deep, dark fissure bisecting their allocated killing floor. The one weapon she could wholly rely on... her opponent had just stripped her of her one and only partner...

Ruby shot a dirty look at her foe a moment before she was forced to hit the deck, a spherical mass soaring over her head. To evade further, she rolled to her right... but that was deemed a grave manoeuvre as the ball boomeranged and gave her a nasty smack on the back of her skull. The stunned Huntress could do very little as she lay in a hopeless, dazed ball. Her ringing ears caught the sound of heavy, dusty footsteps before her.

Another object collided with her shoulder, and she screamed out as it popped out of place. She had to further the distance between her and her oppressor... she executed a quick roll backwards, stretching her already damaged shoulder in the process, and skidded onto her feet before taking off, disappearing from sight as her speed instantaneously shifted her to a stone barricade, leaving nothing but scarlet rose petals in her wake.

She pressed her back to the safe-haven and set a hand upon her shoulder, shifting it around to no avail. Thankfully, her dominant arm was unscathed, apart from the spreading bruise from her earlier arm-to-earth impact. Silently, holding her breath, Ruby shimmied from one stone wall to another, before letting out a squeal as the rack of primitive weaponry before her exploded outwards, a ball of azure and alabaster soaring through, as if seeking its prey.

Hold on a sec...

Ruby's eyes analytically scanned the array of tools before her, scouting the two she desired most... as fate would have it, she unearthed them and made a mad dash for a spear and a crossbow. However, her success was not without a cost; a solid mass drilled into her once more, this time taking out a leg. Her legs were slung from under her, and her head solidly collided with the dusty earth. A second daze soon followed, but determination pushed her towards the side of the half-maimed weapon rack.

The gears began to work overtime in her brain as she unclipped her ammunition belt, haphazardly placed the crossbow upon the back of the spear and and strapped the two together. It wasn't exactly desirable, but her Medieval Crescent Rose was at least decent. The Huntress clumsily leaned out of cover, took aim and let fly the bolt knocked in the crossbow. The sharp-tipped missile sunk cleanly into her foe's shoulder, drawing crimson fluid from his exposed flesh. The ball-wielder's brown eyes zoned in on the ranged polearm Ruby was knocking her second round into, and his expression became bitter.

With a grin, Ruby pointed the deadly hybrid at her opponent once more, and shouted; "Lemme try that again! Mind if I have the name of the guy I'm shooting?!"

Word Count from Wordcounter.net: 746

[Red]

Wakka cringed and snarled as the rhombic arrowhead punctured his right shoulder. He motioned to yank it out, but upon the first jerk, he could feel the cold sensation of air breathe into his wound. It would have to remain in for now. With both hands, he grabbed the arrow close to its head, and snapped its neck.

Damn Machina user, he thought, shooting his a glare towards the woman. She stood across from him, on the far side of their battleground, latching down the string of her crossbow; another bolt was being loaded into it.

Fuck.

Wakka’s head swiveled around as he looked for his Blitzball—jarred from his grasp by the recoil the arrow landed with. It was back behind him, and out of arm’s reach. By the time he’d be able to reach it, he could have another two arrowheads lodged in him.

“Lemme try that again,” she exclaimed. “Mind if I have the name of the guy I’m shooting?”

Wakka looked over at her, and then back over towards the Blitzball. He was just a guy trying to use his favorite hobby as an escape; so far, nothing in this new dimension connected with his home world, and every action he made only seemed to push him further down the rabbit hole.

He couldn’t help but chuckle. “Mr. Unlucky, it seems like,” he replied, “ya?”

One of the woman’s brows furrowed under the curtain of her slanted bangs, but the aim of her crossbow never faltered. She curled her finger around its trigger and prepared to pull.

Wakka would just have to take the risk. Damned if he did, damned if he didn’t. He made a dash for his ball, nearly face-planting on more than one occasion as his mind forced his legs to barrel faster than they could.

The whistling of bolts—he counted three—ripping through the air whizzed by Wakka’s flanks, barely missing their marks. Dirt debris splashed up with every head that drove into the ground, dusting his sandaled feet.

The one caught him. He felt the burn from an arrowhead slicing over the side of his ankle. The hit was not direct, but it was a hit nonetheless. Wakka staggered, and collapsed to one knee. He went to return to his feet, but the pain from his ankle shot up his calf, and put him right back to one knee. The woman had caught part of his achilles tendon, he was sure of it; athletes know their bodies.

He pulled his head over his shoulder and glanced back at the woman. She readied another bolt into her crossbow, forcing the string to latch back once more.

Looks are deceiving with her, he thought. Most Machina users, specially da women, rely on their technology, but she doesn’t; she’s a trained killa.

He glanced back towards his ball. It was so close to him, yet so far away (if only he had the requisite mage powers to draw it closer to him). With his new ankle injury, he couldn’t just dash over there and snatch it. If only. He’d have to limp his way.

Wakka pulled himself erect, wincing as his ankle screamed with every additional pound applied to it. He dragged the entire leg, and proceeded towards his ball by hauling forward with his left haunch.

Then, somewhere in his mind, the clicking of the crossbow’s bolt into place echoed. It sounded like a small stone hitting the bottom of a well. DROP!

Wakka hooded his neck and crown with his arms, immediately dropping to his stomach. The woman’s arrow glided through his mohawk, and planted itself directly in front of his Blitzball.

He flinched; had the bolt dipped two or three inches before reaching him, he’d be dead.

“I wont miss the next one!” she yelled; Wakka imagined her already loading another arrow into place, and even adjusting her sights, to assure a direct hit.

But he was close enough now. He reached an arm from over his head, and swatted the arrow in front of his Blitzball out of the way. A small clump of dirt popped from the ground as he did. With the edges of his fingers, he tipped the ball towards him, and cradled it once it rolled far enough to him.

He hadn’t lost just yet.