An underground dome. The shouts behind cages, those observing, awaiting the next match, safe from whichever dangers may be inside. Blood was a common - stains of it drying on the sewer floors. This was the 6th arena - one of the many places used for underground, often illegal combat. 4 pillars held it up at the corners, the room being a fairly wide one. A flat floor, with a cross going through it all, starting from each of the pillars' bottoms. It was an odd one, at that - black metal with oddly shaped screws popping out of it. Burnt marks clearly showing on the stone about them.

The last match had seemed to end with a fairly visceral conclusion, the fighter was forced to be carried off, leaving a path of crimson in his wake. Rumors had it, that the poor guy would not survive. The second, however, merely made his way into the darkness of the room he entered from. One of the 4 walls, with separate entrances, guarded by runed portcullises. The field behind him was left shred, a victim to many slice marks on the dark floor.

As the torches, illuminations of the arena flickered, the voice of the announcer came through about 6 minutes after the previous fight. "A brutal start for the rookie, indeed! And yet, ladies and gents, another one comes. A young prodigy, a mistress of both beauty and strength! Though new, never outmatched - I bid you, give a warm welcome to our own gladiatorial genious - Lamina Manira!" To which, the crowds gave no quarter in shouting out a vast array of parses. Though new, word appears to have spread fairly fast of her exploits.

Making her way out on the arena, the announcer cried out again. "And in the other corner, as we've seen but now - the tireless brutalizer, the vicious masochist - I bid you, our latest fresh meat, Gaijinn!" The cries hadn't died down, shouts of encouragement. Though far less than to the previous champion, they were a tad more unsettling. Cries for blood and bone. Cries for death and no mercy.

The fighter did not come out for a minute, the announcer shouting his name once more. "It seems our newbie is afraid! Come out and fight!" And come out he did, an arm in his hand - it bore the insignia of the underground court, which held these events. A guard's arm, half-chewed. A lute in his right arm, a glint in his eyes. A hooded and cloaked man walked out to the field of battle, stains of blood adorning his half-torn robes. He appeared to slowly limp, taking his time.

Spitting to the side a chunk of flesh and dropping the arm, a grin spread across his lips. There it was, before him. The glint in his eyes caught his opponent - his new prey.

To the cheers of the crowd she emerged from the darkness, a girl of unimpressive height and stature that nevertheless moved without hesitation. The atmosphere was quite unnerving to the girl, though an enigmatic wave washed all emotion from her youthful face, save for the faintest cold emerald leer towards her next ill-fated opponent. She wore her typical battle garb, a sleeveless black garment of quilted and hardened cotton, layered tightly in silk for the streamlined appearance of a dress, it's hem ending at her knees. Black nylon modestly covered her legs from the crowd's stare, boots of a similar black and protected externally at the toe by metallic steel providing minimum protection of the ankles and feet.
As usual, a small extension of her shoulder-length brown hair had been tied into a sidelong topknot by a string of beads and garnished by the addition of a red feather that bobbed with each little step she took into the ring. Fluttering in her wake was a long, plain red ribbon tied around her otherwise bare left elbow. Each wrist bore metal bracers, tightly wrapped in black silk strips like bandages hanging unevenly like tippets on an elegant garment.
This was going to be a brutal battle. Lamina currently came equipped to the teeth, a Japanese wakizashi upon each hip, a stone and obsidian dagger tucked in before her left sword and the wicked shape of a black kpinga strapped to her back.
She stopped a safe distance from her opponent. Gaijinn. It meant "outlander" in Japanese. Armed with a lute, this was one strange fellow indeed--and though she struggled with her own ego, she was not one to underestimate opponents.

A laugh slowly came. It sounded constrained - something gurgling in his throat as he had. Stranger indeed. He spat once more to the side, crimson spittle finally exiting his mouth. Then, his gaze turned to the girl. His eyes, though shadowed, could be clearly seen eying her up. There was something out of place about them - they were friendly. He was staring at her, not with a battle-hardened glare, nor an egotistical underestimation, but rather a friend's glare. Yet, how forced it was indeed.

From a psychological perspective - this man clearly did not understand that the two were in a combat arena. He simply did not get that before him was a combatant, that could slaughter him with ease. Locked deep within that gaze, however, was something else. It was a friendly gaze, true, and yet, the unsettling part came not only from the fact that it was forced, out of place, and simply creepy with a row full of bloody teeth from his previous snack, but rather the predator's part of it. He did not underestimate his foe - yet it felt as though she was a plaything to him. An object, rather than a human being.

His entire body was silently quivering, possibly from the adrenalin of the last showdown. Possibly, something else. His head slowly rose towards the female, and he distinctly sniffed towards her. Then, took a slow, shaky step forward, letting another sniff. The grip on his lute hardened, the quivering in that area particularly escalating, due to the muscle contraction. All within the time-frame of 12 seconds, those for some reason cheering for him, not stopping yet.

"Hmph."
She did not draw her blades. The man stepped closer, but the distance between the two was still relatively safe. Lamina herself did not move. There was nothing forced about the cold stare that she offered in his direction, of the unwavering lock her eyes held on the man's sternum and the statuesque pose she stood in, as if contemplating whether to move into stance or shrug the whole fight off and walk away.
The crowd settled in anticipation as the suspense felt heavy in the hot, damp air of the overcrowded dungeon.
"I'm tired of hearing ladies first."

"...Ok." The grin widened. He began to slowly walk towards her, placing the lute into his left hand. Then, keeping his right foot forward, he raised it up before his torso, taking the cord-side and unlocking it. A click emerged from the lute, and the neck extended, sliding open to ground level at his right side - its shape slowly began to wane and change. Clicks beginning to release an almost music-box like melody. A small lullaby, as the body opened up, the material changing. Within a few moments, the music instrument had turned into a long-bladed, crimson scythe.

Gaijinn gripped it with both hands. The ring lightly clanking as it was being let loose on the cold floor. "I hate females anyway..." were the words he croaked before his bear feet turned into a sprint towards his enemy, the scythe still facing to the left. The bottom side of the ring, facing the grounds before him, he raised it for a swing. Looks like he's left-handed, after all.

Very intimidating. However, Gaijinn wasn't the only one with an unorthodox weapon. As the opponent's weapon shape-shifted Lamina reached around to her back, retrieving the bladed kpinga with a snap that had broken the twine holding it in place. All in a single and fluid motion she spun around in a full twist, compensating for her arm's lack of power by throwing her body's inertia into the frighteningly shaped weapon. Lamina's timing was immaculate; she had used his shape-shifting and his response to her statement to draw and twirl in place. With the opponent's first steps forward, she released the weapon into the air, resulting in a deadly powerful throw as the man's scythe rose, timed to embed it's deadly spires deep into the flesh of the oncoming man's chest. The weapon spun swiftly through the air as a result of the mechanics of her throw coupled with the uneven momentum of it's three bladed spires, creating a unique characteristic of the ability to literally deflect over shields and more accurately--polearms. Assuming Gaijinn could reverse the momentum of his lumbering body or reverse the inertia of his scythe and manage to deflect it whilst preventing it from bounding over his guard, he'd find the girl bent low in stance and her arms above the hilts of her Japanese blades, as if she were ready to pounce. It was from the results of her preliminary attack that she'd decide her course in footwork, because as of now, she was free to bound freely in all directions.

He saw this coming - his lute, his scythe. Both require closing distance. Despite the fact that he expected a throwing knife, the oddly shaped, shredding metal that was hurled his way would suffice. His first step was the launch of a sprint, giving his body enough momentum alone, which he was happy to make use of. A split second was all he had - more than enough. The kpinga's blades were caught in the large metal ring of the scythe's bottom, as Gaijinn side-stepped, keeping his legs active in the sprint. It was done on purpose, if his movements were studied.

Though normally, a kpinga's propelling motion would swing over a polearm, to dice its target, the ring has caught it mid-blade, using the razor sharp 3rd, hilt-blade as its own enemy, thus ending the deadly spin. Then, Gaijinn did the unexpected - he moved the ring-side at Lamina with the kpinga caught in its clench, its razor blade facing to her because of it. His grip would be reminiscent to that of a spear, the scythe now at his left side, only backwards. The scythe emit a gunshot-like sound, the ring firing off - aimed at her low stance, for the head. The ring alone, being a heavy-weight, now entwined with her own strong weapon, flying towards her at a wild speed. The ring was linked to the scythe's ending by a chain, it seems.

While this attack was fine and dandy, and he evaded the exotic weapon, his sprint never halted - even during the 'scythe-shot', if you may.

While the big scythe was a much slower weapon to swing in the hands of anyone, the opponent's reaction times bespoke countless years of experience--and coupled with the quick shot of the ring, the attack was more than fast. Lamina, as prepared to bound as she was, leaped far to the left in order for her opponent to go rocketing past her right flank as Gaijinn twisted the grip on his weapon. As she bound, her legs uncoiled like a spring, raising her elevation slightly whilst simultaneously propelling her aside. All of these circumstances combined within the half-second to result in one of the kpinga's blades barely slicing Lamina's right arm, a gash opening the skin of her right bicep near the shoulder, a negligible cut that'd nevertheless scar permanently in the future. The wicked throwing weapon continued, it's velocity unimpeded until it struck a jeering bystander straight in the chest. Blood spewed and a few people screamed as the weapon embedded itself deep in the heavy body of a burly, shirtless man. Given Gaijinn's sprint, he too, may crash dangerously into the crowd if he did not stop himself just then.
At that point, Lamina would be roughly somewhere behind his right flank or at the very least, far aside him. Blood streamed gently down the girl's arm, a gentle stream in comparison to the bloody mess on the sidelines.
She remained in the readied stance, a glare now replacing the cold and stoic leer she wore previously, though she offered nothing but silence--not even the drawing of her swords. She knew now that Gaijinn's weapon was exceedingly awkward to wield at this point, though she'd watch his own reaction before beginning her deathly rhythm people had come to know so well to systematically orchestrate the defeat of her opponents in the arena.

Finding the girl escaped death, attempting to round him, Gaijinn let his sprint go through. Thinking a strike would come from behind, he leaped, taking the force of his legs against the wall before him to turn around mid-air. The twirl he used, after he leaped of the wall to face his enemy, would be counter-clock wise, aka, to the right. His scythe was now in the right-hand's grip, raised at his side as a counter-measure. A wild grin painted across his mug.

With a nasty crack behind him in the audience, the kpinga, no longed ringed due to the force of the impact that had the ring let go. It stuck inside the innocent man, and the ring retracted to the scythe's back as Gaijinn made his aerial turn. Landing a step or two away from the wall, he swayed lightly, his trembling increasing into a hard, almost spastic shake. His eyes were fixed on the enemy in the brief moment, before he leaned in forward, once more sprinting towards her. His scythe now before him, gripped with both hands - the blade on his right side this time.

If she was observant, she'd notice his speed began to wildly escalate.

Lamina herself was often praised for being such a fast fighter--and as such, coupled with the trained eye in the right place, she noticed the slightest changes in his movement. Speed was typically a blessing, though with the inertia of a charge against the practice footwork of a nimble fencer, it was also enough to inhibit movement.
Knowing this, Lamina stood statuesque against the oncoming wall of flesh and steel, poised in calculative stillness. Her stance again resembled that of a pre-pounce, her right hand now hovering over the silken tsuka-ito wrappings of her left wakizashi's hilt. Would she face the man head-on? The suspense built--the onlookers knew that Lamina was fast enough to move out of the way. But it was all in the timing of the motion, of which Lamina was the expert, and she trusted in her own ability.

Smashing a foot before her, keeping at the distance of 3 steps, Gaijinn's full force of the sprint suddenly turned into a wild spin. Twirling his way clockwise, he extended the scythe, lowering his grip to its lower half. Suddenly, from her left, a double-edged blade was shooting its way toward her neck, not merely at a great speed, but a force to be reckoned with indeed. While the move may seem reckless, Gaijinn kept his distance from her - even if she decided to leap towards him.

With her powerful eyesight, she'd also notice that the spin was controlled - and may quite effectively turn into a more dangerous combined move. In addition, the spin's direction also meant he was closing distance toward her, his left leg prepared to continue his advance. Her ears would catch the primal scream that he emit, going for his strike.

This was it. Lamina, already poised to deal with the oncoming attack, ducked as the scythe flew overhead, the displaced air from it's whirling swing gently blowing the red feather in her hair. Simultaneously she took advantage of his committed inertia as he orchestrated his next move--though Lamina's, by nature of their geometry, came first.
With her right hand already poised for the draw, she pulled the left wakizashi from the lacquered confines of it's saya, releasing it in a fierce throwing motion that would bring the sword into a swift and horizontal airborne trajectory as he twisted, intended to immediately span the distance within the second and spear the opponent in the right kidney exposed during his counter-clockwise twist. In Yagyu-shinkage ryu kenjutsu, this was a deadly technique known as empi, or Swallow Takes Flight. Given the proximity and geometry of the combatants, a hit seemed inevitable--and despite the adrenaline and berserk-like frenzy that may result of the pain, this was a pressure point; a potent one at that, one that may soon render his body incapable of making the swift motions that carried him throughout the ring.
From here, her legs had now coiled like a spring, though all the same, the opponent's momentum would continue his turn. There was a very narrow window now, for Lamina to make her next move.

A blade he noticed coming. He expected the strike - his twirl was an obvious one, a spin that exposed his entire body. Letting his left hand go of the scythe's grip during his maddening spin, he caught the flying blade with an open hand in the middle of its edge. As the scythe howled past her head in its wild attack, his left foot planted in the ground. Tossing the wakizashi behind him at the moment the spin ended, his scythe was full and ready for a second sweep - a backwards one. It now at his left side, gripped by his right hand alone. His body was leaned in forward, anticipating the next strike with that hidden counter of his own.

[This is what I think would happen given the distance, timing and geometry of the situation. Please PM me with your rebuttal if you wish to debate this outcome.]

She drew the sword in conjunction with her duck. He would probably have a lot of trouble escaping this unscathed. This was because the weapon was released into it's trajectory at around the time his hands and weapon moved over her head. By the time he'd register the flying blade, his hand would have passed Lamina's head and would have to let go, reverse direction and move down to his body to grab the blade in the time. Because the opponent's reactions were so well-practiced and fueled with massive amounts of adrenaline, it was possible for him to grab the wakizashi by the lower end of the blade and the habaki, or brass fitting before the crossguard, if he reached close enough to his body. The razor sharp tip of the blade should still theoretically strike home in the man's side just as his grab would inflict damage to his hand--though neither wound would not exceed the two inches necessary for a fatal strike before it was wrenched away and tossed whimsically aside.
Lamina dove into a roll as soon as his hand came in contact with the blade. The reaction speed of his opponent was quite sufficient, though Lamina had tact to match. She moved swiftly to the man's back-right flank just as he'd be able to accelerate his scythe single-handedly, which would now be a significantly slower motion than the two-handed swing of before. The wakizashi landed in the sand some small distance to Lamina's left after she spun to face him, though her focus was on the enemy. She expected he'd turn in an attempt to catch up with her, and that was when she rose into stance once more, ready to spring once again. This game of cat and mouse couldn't last forever--one of them would tire. But who had the heavier body and weapons?

Who would, indeed. Gaijinn's body shuddered again, lightly quivering as the blade was released from his hand - the palm was slightly severed, a cut going a fair while into it. Yet, Gaijinn seemed to be undeterred - rather, encouraged. Squeezing his hand, blood starting to thinly gush out, his mouth opened, breathing becoming unsteady. One wouldn't be mistaken, if he found him to be in ecstasy. His eyes shaking along with his body.

His opponent stood up, as his face slowly lowered - he knew he could expect a strike from behind at any moment. Either that, or another wait. The scythe shrieked metal on the ground as he turned around, gripping it with both hands again. A happy face caught his enemy, before it drew closer with his body. Gaijinn burst forward in a quick two-step movement. His senses are beginning to spike further - this feeling. He wanted more. So much more. His body tense, burning up inside.

Though he'd turn around to face his opponent, the primal speed of him shooting forth might be rabid enough to catch the enemy off guard. A wild, hoarse cry was let out from the bottom of his throat, as he swing his scythe down at the opponent. He did not take a full swing, yet the power remained an almost unnaturally reckless force. The attack came from his right side, a 45° angled half-sweep from top to bottom. Despite this, the sweep was controlled - prepared for a second attack, a lead into his hallmark.

A similarly diagonal step took her forward and to the left of the swing, slipping into the "window" of opportunity presented at one side of a diagonal arc. Her right hand moved down to the corresponding hilt that was left undrawn, and pulled the second wakizashi from it's scabbard in a reversed grip. This allowed greater stability in defense, as Lamina would have to take every compensation and good form to present a formidable wall of steel against the bigger opponent's next attack. Simultaneous with the man's swing and her step and sword-draw, her left hand had grasped the hilt of the knife only to send it flying in a similar thrown manner to pierce upward to the man's right armpit just as he'd attempt to reverse the momentum of his scythe for a second swing. The opponent was very fast, and that would have to be countered by his own inertia and geometry. Her legs remained tense, ready to bound in anticipation of what she expected would come next, her right wakizashi poised to deflect a swing of the polearm or the shot of the ring, it's mune spine firmly supported by the metal of her forearm's bracer.

A second trick, he's seen this before. This time, it was the dagger. He took his second move, swinging the scythe back up to the right, his left foot shifting for him to face her as he had. The flying blade would collide against the outer edge of the scythe dead-on. The trajectory, enough to force it flying due to its size, to the side. Gaijinn's new stance poised the scythe slightly higher - as if ready for a repeat of the half-sweep he'd done earlier. A gesture, to show that he seeks to 'try again'.

Yet, another thing came at Lamina - the ring was pointed at her lower body due to this way of holding the scythe. A ring which fired the moment she stopped into reinforce her formidable defensive stance, with a loud gunshot. Its aim appeared to be her abdomen, where one shouldn't aim, a man would say. Yet, on purpose. At this close of a range, dodging would be restricted, thanks to its speed. She had a better chance at blocking it - a vicious force to stop.

This was it. He'd finally closed the distance. Now, it was time to chop.

Sure, Gaijinn was inhumanly fast at this point. But unfortunately for the man, her throw had happened during his first move. The knife would be airborne by the start of the "second," and well on it's way into the soft armpit before the scythe's second movement met it's crest to the right of it's wielder's body. There was one major difference between this throw and that throw: the proximity had become dangerously close, to the point where the trajectory of the knife was literally shorter than the distance the scythe's head must travel to intercept it. The lightweight knife had no inertia pulling it in the opposite direction, either. And if struck, the obsidian knife, a weapon known to be sharper than a modern medical scalpel, would embed itself a good three inches into tissue, coming in contact with the inside of the shoulder joint and practically incapacitating the arm entirely at the start of the man's twist to aid the recovery of his leftward motion.
Another factor also came into play--Lamina had quite literally predicted the exact motions the man took in response to hers, and the only proof of that lied in the preparation she had made in both her tensed legs and the positioning of her body in relation to his (and perhaps the last sentence in the previous post). The sword she had drawn to guard immediately shot downward to deflect the ring and chain's angle down between her legs in a swift motion similar to a karate low block. With both legs ready to spring her into motion, she bent at the knees and ducked downward in a leftward weave, adding additional motion to pull the blocking sword into the ring's trajectory.
This also pulled her body closer to the ground, and it became clear just how calculated her positioning was when she reclaimed her second bloodied wakizashi.