There was something serene about the vast, open fields of green. Coupled with the promise of the first match of a most epic tournament, this practically guaranteed the small fighter's arrival. While she could make out her gargantuan opponent from across the field as the two trekked toward the center, she was but a tiny speck in the distance.
Upon closer inspection, however, it became clear that this small girl nevertheless came equipped for the life-or-death struggle that she strangely looked forward to. A black sleeveless dress of hardened cotton armor provided limited coverage of the petite torso, nylon leggings of a similar shade covering her legs from the knee-high hem of her armor's skirt and into black boots hidden beneath the grass, the toes encased in shining steel. A wakizashi clung to each hip by the grey sash around her waist, the right accompanied by a polished chakram and the left, a crude dagger of stone and obsidian. Each wrist bore thin, protective bracers that were stylishly bandaged over by long strips of black cloth.
It was unclear just what culture or nationality the versed young gladiator borrowed from. A long, thin red ribbon tied to her elbow, carried into a red stream in her wake by the gentle breeze that blew uninhibited across the plain. Her shoulder blade length brown hair and it's small, sidelong topknot flowed to the wind's current, the red feather garnishing the beads tying the knot bobbing with each little step.
In due time, the two warriors would face off against each other. To the average spectator, there was nothing fair about this matchup--though beneath those youthful emerald eyes lied a prodigious wealth of unspoken experience.

Just who would be the Deadliest Warrior?

((not to muck up your thread, but i was arrogance's replacement!!! insist that i be put in >_>))

"..."
No response issued to the man's words. These were things she was used to hearing, though as always in in the heat of combat, actions spoke heavier than words. Something seemed strange with her opponent, and while she had the strongest suspicion that he may be possessed and here against his true will, the rules were the rules. Koyu was half-right -- someone was going to die today.
The opponent had no qualms with taking the offensive, earning him the smallest measure of respect from the small girl who had heard "ladies first" just five too many times. However, what may have been the formidable start to an offensive rhythm was unceremoniously broken as the 'little girl' saw straight through what her experience suspected was a feint, and thus reacted accordingly.
She stepped forward with her left foot in tandem with the opponent's final advance, the foible of his feebly swung sword striking dead against the girl's left cloth-wrapped bracer as she brought her left arm up in a swift forearm block. With the collision point near the tip of the enemy's weapon coupled with the lack of strength behind the man's swing, the smaller girl would have little trouble stealing the leverage from the swordsman who had so bravely strike untrue against her. With her forward motion the bracer slid down the length of the enemy's sword once it had stopped mid-swing, and in a swift continuous motion she locked her arm out, reaching up to grip tightly the longsword's unsharpened ricasso and wrapping two devious little digits around the twin quillions of his crossguard, effectively snagging his weapon in a grapple.
The right hand was not without motion. In harmonious synchronization she reached across her petite chest, taking ahold of the silken-wrapped hilt of her short Japanese blade at her left hip. As the grapple secured and proximities closed, she'd draw the weapon into a quick swipe against his right ribcage, intending to slice a bloody swath through soft tissue, her weapon angled to slip mercilessly between a pair of ribs.

As Koyu had so smartly chosen to move with the proverbial flow of the combat, so too, did Lamina. She did not resist his hold on on her right hand, nor did she relinquish her hold on his. She contorted her lissome body with a leftward twist, pulling her left side from Koyu's attack as his knee brushed harmlessly against her right hip and across her torso. Her twist, grounded firmly by the balance of her right foot, tugged her entire body's weight against the man who's balance uprooted with his assault. Now practically flush with her opponent, she threw her hip against him, yanking with the power of both arms to literally throw him overhead in a classic hip-toss that should result in him flying disoriented before slamming upon his back, winded, hapless and most likely unsure of what just happened. Because it'd take the utmost discipline for Koyu to keep ahold of her left arm at this point, Lamina attempted yanking free while tightened her own grasp on his arm with her other hand. Should he fall, she'd hoist his arm upward, and should she wrestle her arm free in the midst of a half-second's confusion, she'd draw her right wakizashi in a reverse-grip and make a direct swipe to intercept Koyu's grappled limb at the elbow with no remorse for the pain and absolutely devastating damage that would result.

ForgottenWarrior wrote:Outsmarted in the blink of an eye. It was over.
Koyu's arm suffered irrepairable damage, pain surging through his body as he let out a bloodcurtling scream.there was nothing he could do, adrenaline surging through his body as he attempted to wriggle free through blood-soaked grass and dirt. The girl was now free to finish him off however she pleased, and the possession that kept ahold of Koyu's consciousness faded away.

(I am in no position to keep fighting at this point. I admit defeat.)

Lamina Manira wins the battle. Congradulations on your victory. ForgottenWarrior, thank you for participating in the DWC-2011 tournament. Your courage and honor will forever be remembered in tournaments to come. You have admitted defeat. Sara Whitley goes on to the second round...