Skirmish in the City (The Imposter v Cfavano)

[The Imposter]

Night had fallen hours ago on the cityscape. The city hummed with the business of the nightlife, cars in the streets and people walking about. The false happiness of a night's pleasures could be seen in the faces of each passerby. Through the low fog and crowds a pair of footsteps seemed to walk against the rhythm of the night. The man going against the beat had sunken eyes, his clothes hung off his skinny form, his right hand held a small card while his lips pursed together keeping a cigarette.

It had been a few years, Flinn had been out of the game. All good things though come to an end and now he needed to work out the kinks and get back to the swing of things. That was where the card came on the small white object was a time and place, set up to help him get back into his fighting form.

He had walked only for another twenty minutes before he was there, the predetermined meeting place. It was a park, preserved from the cities pollution as much as possible. The grass was green in the light that managed to break through the fog. A large fountain in the middle with four walk ways leading to it. The park itself was about the size of a football field with flower beds spread out through.

'...looks like this place is going to get one unfavorable makeover tonight.'

Flinn had meandered to a bench and was now seated, quite relaxed and finishing off the last few puffs of his cigarette. The eerie silence of the park was slightly unnerving but not enough to change the man's demeanor. Soon he could hear the footsteps of another coming from an alley on the other side of the park. Without a doubt it would be his sparring partner for tonight.

[Cfavano]

Gresh walks out into the park. Looking all around. This landscape and these strange buildings are all new to him, all these people going from here to there, and they had all stared at him. He had received a message some time ago giving him directions to meet and spar with someone at a specific time and place "I received your message. You wish to fight me, then? I do not know why you picked me, but I assure you, my friend, you are in for a surprise if you think this will be easy." He focuses his ki, keeping his breathing slow and centering his thoughts, preparing for the coming fight. He bows formally, before settling into the Centered defense stance, and readies himself for the match. "So, are you ready?"

[The Imposter]

Flinn had drained the last bit of bliss he could from the cigarette when his opponent came on the scene. Definitely not a human, probably someone pulled from another world. Flinn tossed the butt to the ground and chuckled, it was humorous that his new adversary took such things so incredibly serious. At the very least it would prove that this wouldn't be a walk in the park....well figuratively.

'I don't expect anything less than your best.'

It seemed as though Flinn's new employer had set them up to meet here but at least it would prove to be a good battle to get him back in fighting form. His opponent had taken a stance and posed the question as to his readiness, definitely not wanting to waste any time. Flinn stood up from the bench and popped his collar while stepping forward closer to his sparring partner.

'As ready as I can be....I never caught your name. I'm Flinn, thanks for coming.'

Flinn's small glasses caught a street light as his eyes looked over his opponent, visibly he appeared to have no weapons which either lent to him being a mage or him fighting unarmed like Flinn himself. With a deep breath Flinn dashed forward towards Gresh when he got within striking distance Flinn twisted and spun on the ball of his right foot using the momentum gathered to spring forward and then come hurtling down with an elbow.

[Cfavano]

With a swift movement, he raises his arm, and the elbow makes contact with the solid Mithral of his bracer, and he reaches out quickly to lightly tap Flinn's forehead. "Twilight touch." Gresh says, as he sends out Psionic energy to disrupt Flinn's energy, then he hops back a few paces, and takes his stance once more. "My name is Gresh, Adept Monk of the Centered breath style, I hail from the Elemental chaos, where I spent most of my life training under my master in our isolated monastery." He takes a measure of his opponent, noting his movements, and his patterns. "And, thank you, Flinn, for being courteous. That is something that is so rarely seen in this world anymore." He takes a moment to examine his surroundings. The park is imbalanced, nature being overpowered by the creations of man. How distasteful.

[The Imposter]

Flinn's elbow had crashed down with noticeably gross sound as bone smashed against the bracer. The pain was numbing but nothing the researcher couldn't handle, in fact the sound itself reminded him of a battle with a admantoise many years before. Flinn's feet just touched the ground when his opponents finger was on his forehead. His expression changed as the perplexing words came from Gresh.

"Twilight touch."

Flinn's head snapped back as his body fell to the ground. His body tingling unnaturally. His body hurt and ached and Flinn slowly stood up. Then he opened his eyes and nothing, no white or black or grey...just nothingness. Flinn was shocked he took a step back. Gresh continued to speak which helped, this couldn't be permanent could it? Flinn clenched his fists a desire to inflict pain on his opponent intensifying. Certainly now at a disadvantage he quickly tried to figure out a strategy.

'You certainly have some neat tricks, but you aren't the only one.'

The air around Flinn slowly grew dense until it became a thick white fog. It slowly spread covering the whole field quickly. Once the White Wind was in full effect Flinn slowly moved away from his original position.

'Well hopefully this evened out the playing field.'

[Cfavano]

He shifts into the masterful spiral stance, and slowly moves around in the thick air. He remembers part of his training, where he had to live for a year without each of his senses. He closes his eyes, and listens. "Hiding? Clever." He keeps his focus, and keeps his mind on the task at hand, finding Flinn. he walks in the heel-toe way, his soft shoes, making very little sound. He keeps his ears open for even the slightest sound of movement, getting to where he last heard the sound of Flinn's voice, he launches a roundhouse kick at the height of where his rib cage would be the power of his stance increasing the possible range of his attack by five feet, but each part of the phantom limb is just as powerful as if it was his real foot.

[The Imposter]

In the brevity of the sequence of moments that shift from one to another to form the continuous melody of time, the nothingness that had overtaken Flinn lifted. Pulled away or swept from his eyes leaving only the blanket of white from his own technique. His ears could hear the pitter-patter of his adversary as he launched his kick.

Truthfully Flinn had been so out of practice he couldn't pinpoint the height of the kick or anything just from sound. He braced himself for impact just in time as the shade like extension crashed into him thunderously. The blow sent him spinning to the side and Flinn used the movement to force himself to strike the ground with his fists.

As his balled fists struck against the grassy surface they produced a large tremor blast that launched out in the direction of the attack. With any luck Flinn's opponent would be still in his follow through. The wave rushed forward along the surface of the park dispelling the white fog as zoned in on where he thought his opponent was.

[Cfavano]

The tremor hits his one foot, and knocks him over. He his his back hard and grunts, but flips up back on to his feet, reforming his guard. He refocuses his Ch'i, an regains his composure "Good shot, Flinn. But it will take more than that to get me. I applaud you, not many people last this long. But I promise not to take up too much more of you time. We are both very busy people." He charges at Flinn, and, mid-charge, leaps into the air, and comes back down with a kick, trailing bright light, and searing flame around him. If this kick connects, the bright light will temporarily blind him, and the flames will set him on fire. "Falling star strike." Gresh says, again in a calm tone.

[The Imposter]

Gresh's words pricked Flinn, slowly the calm demeanor and arrogant tone that danced from the tongue of his opponent had incited some emotional response. Flinn knew this was only training but he couldn't help but clench his fist just a little tighter as Gresh charged his way towards him.

'Maybe this will be better!'

Flinn's own words were no longer calm but rather a yell, seemingly timed at the exact time Gresh took to the air. Although Flinn was speaking he was already in motion for his own attack. One of his clenched fists appeared to heat up with energy being created from the fabric of nothingness. His eyes unwavering from the falling opponent and the trail of light that followed it. The execution here would be key, there was no doubt about that. Anything that flashy had to be dangerous and Flinn wasn't willing to find out the hard way. Flinn threw his punch but pulled it back fearing on connecting with the falling kick and released his Exploder technique early. Even not being fully charged the energy in his fist exploded creating a cloud of debris as it chewed into the air and dirt close to it.

Flinn flew back from the explosion and landed hard against the ground, his left shoulder making a sickening popping sound as it made contact. That popping sound was accompanied by a surging pain and Flinn struggled to get to his feet. His left arm hung limp at his side but that popping sound echoed in his head and became vaguely reminiscent of a metronome.

The dust cloud had only begun dispersing when Flinn called out to his training partner. His voice crackling with the pain of his arm, and sweat dripping from his brow. His speech was broken with heavy breaths showing just how out of practice he was.

'Listen...Gresh, flashy moves like that...well...you'd have to be a pretty dumb animal to willingly let something that pretty looking hit you....now...shall we continue?'

The researcher's right hand raised with fist still clenched. He peered over his small glasses waiting to see his opponents next move.

[Cfavano]

The explosion knocks Gresh backwards, and he flips in mid-air, and lands in a crouch. "Very good shot, Flinn. It seems you too are blessed with the psionic gift. You say only a dumb animal would be hit by it? But, I did manage to injure you, didn't I. That arm doesn't look good. If this were a Judged match, you would have been disqualified. So, to prevent you from getting hurt any further, I am declaring this match over. There is no honor in fighting on, nor any dishonor in yielding when you are injured. So, I ask you, do you yield? If you don't, I will be forced to take measures." He takes his form again.