The Ship [†Racutio vs Seige†]

[Paganism]

Setting: Takes place on a large Cargo Ship, the picture will be at the very bottom of the text.
Style: UM (Unrealistic Melee)

The time of day was somewhere around early morning when the battle had broke out; the two individuals whom were fairly familiar with one another had decided to test eachother in a small training session. They had been traveling from America, the cargo ship they had snuck on to was set to go to the ever so beautiful France; the dock the ship was going to port at is in Nantes. A good couple hours was left before the destination is reached, with that in mind the two bout it out for mere enjoyment.

 

[Racutio]

The sound of waves crashing against metal. The creaking of steel on steel. The shifting of contents within the large, multicolored cargo crates. The sound of seagulls following the ship on all sides closely, as if it were a guide to an unknown destination. All of these sounds were the sounds Racutio could hear with his eyes closed as he naps in a comfortable spot between a few crates on top of the boat. Racutio would open his shimmering carmine red eyes(the color of blood) to look up at the brilliant azure of the morning sky, and the gulls soaring overhead, cawing in happiness at the start of another day. Racutio would be wearing his white long-sleeved button-up shirt with his white sleeveless muscle shirt underneath, and his button-up unbuttoned freely. He'd be wearing his dark faded blue denim pants on with his dark black leather flip-flops on. He'd rub the back of his head through his loose blue hair. His hair would be as azure as the sky due to the amount of sun he's been getting lately. Racutio would yawn lightly before sitting up, and looking around. He close his eyes and stretch his limbs for a few seconds before he bends his knees and pulls his legs back, then throws them forward rapidly, landing on his feet silently. He'd walk a few steps over to the edge of the crate he's on before jumping off the crate and pacing around on the deck, looking for Nixon. "Yo, Nix, where you at man?" Racutio didn't bother using his soul sense. He felt pretty leisure today. It's a nice day out, and they weren't exactly hiding on the ship when he himself paid so they could board so they could travel over seas the old fashioned way. It wasn't often that he did travel like this either. Especially when one such as him can merely walk through a spacial rift from one place to another like the snap of one's fingers. He'd reach into his pants pocket and pull out his jet black high-tech phone. He'd click open the phone and it'd come to life. A live moving wallpaper of him fighting a massive spectral beast ten times his own size in a nightmarish realm being on the front of the phone that he recorded. No messages. No calls. Plenty of signal. "Figures. Kind of a good thing though, to be honest. I enjoy the freedom once in awhile." Racutio would make his way up the metal catwalk stairs to the bridge now, looking around for Nixon. He'd make his way along the catwalk before peering over the edge of the railing down into the cargo crates to find him. It wasn't hard to find Nixon, either, with the way he normally dressed all the time. He'd speak to himself in a quiet tone. "Where you at Nixon..."

 

[Paganism]

Nixon always finds the oddest places to fall asleep when going into his dormant phase; the time period in which he sleeps ranges from either a couple hours to a couple days straight. It's almost like a bear hibernating, the singular features seen in his sleeping habits are quite bizarre. Nixon's the only known species to have this kind of a sleeping habit; even crazier is the fact that he can set a mental alarm. Deep within his mind he decides how many hours to count the sheep. If not interrupted he normally sets the time for about four or five hours however he cuts it down to two hours due to the fact that the time on the boat is limited; there's a destination that once reached causes the freight liner to stop. Therefore they'll have to remove themselves from the mammoth. Logically a massive thing such as this is incapable of land travel, because of this the boat will dock in a decent sized city causing the individuals to begin the next half of their journey by foot. Nobody else knows the snuck on to take advantage of it's use, when the opportunity rose they sprung into action... Dreams of flower covered fields flood his mind, these flowers housing thousands of butterfly's that if seen by the eyes of an organism the question may rise asking how this could occur; nature has its mysteries some of which aren't yet solved. Is this an enigma yet unsolved? Watching the piece of land closely one could notice that the flowers appear to move; the abnormal appearance looking as if the petals are rising and falling. Focusing ones gaze so that it travels over the tops of floral life forms holding beautiful insects one is able to notice a wave like phenomenon making the land look like a yellow ocean.


Holy shit would this dream really be passing through the mind of a warrior such as Nixon? FUCK NO...What was really making its locomotion across the psyche of an 18 year old is that of blood and gore; one after another hellacious pictures painting a dark battle field with red skies flood his head. Crossing onto his face is a smile as his eye lids remain locked shut; this grin sprouting because of the dream that he's having. Scary, nothing more than little bitches whom need to put on their big boy pants only think of shit like this to be of that class. If Nixon was to go to a doctor to get his head checked they would consider him to be crazy placing him in the hands of a mental ward; a place he certainly doesn't want to be a guest of. Or maybe it would be a good thing, after all he could transform the place into that which he envisions; everyone that's a resident would then have a reason to be insane. After Nixon was done with them they wouldn't be able to sleep for days. White walls plain as paper would drive him nuts, needing something to paint them with he has no other choice than to spill the blood of those that aren't worthy of life. Nevertheless his dream of a battle field covered in bodies merely lasts a couple seconds, or seems to have because a voice soon makes its way into his ears waking him up before his alarm.


Stretching he yawns, his mouth wide open shows white fangs on the tops and bottoms of his mouth; these white canines capable of increasing in size by half an inch. Comparable to those that are seen in the mouth of a vampire the only thing different is the ones on the bottom, this row housing not two but four. Pondering over of voice that's carried in the air he decides where the voice had traveled from, its specific direction. Not only that but who is this individual that knows his name, last time he checked he had been the only one sneeking onto the sea word object. Arms falling from above his head return to his body only to then "pet" the black velvet like cloth that makes up his top. What hes really doing is smoothing the wrinkes out of the black tuxedo. Aspects standing out be that of a red tie, red buttons and a red scarf like hanky tucked in his right chest pocket. As this soft pressing action takes place the youth lets his eyes scan everything around him; small characteristics pop giving him a hint that soon brings his memories back. The small insignificant failure with his mind is nothing to worry oneself over, when at the special check up made for classes of creatures not human the one in charge told him that it's something that won't effect how he remembers that which he takes in with eyes, ears, and mouth. The mind holds the key to the bodies senses, without certain parts he wouldn't be able to carry forth with particular actions. Like a semi truck colliding with a Prius the memories flood back into his head taking only three seconds to return. What did it for him was his name being called once again, this time he knows exactly which way it's traveling from as well as who's creating the ruckus.


Rising from the ground he had chose to fall asleep under a large truck, this reason is so that he could be out of the way of the others on the ship. This makes most who see him sleeping like this curious, why would he want to find someplace so uncomfortable. Nobody in their right mind would put themselves through that. In the end he rises up into a standing upright position, his hands now going for the pockets of his blue jeans. His attire is different from what he's usually wearing and knows that it will throw off Racutio when he see's him. Nixon randomly changes into different stylish clothing items that show hes classy; he would rather be caught dead in something with holes and grease. Standing there he is curious on whether Racuito will come to him or if he is to come to his opponent, their scheduled spar is to start in no time.

 

[Paganism]

(Hey I need to edit that post when I get up, I notice some errors made from my exaustion which is soon going to be fixed from sleep. Will make sure to do so when I wake up becaue I need to get Z on here.)

 

[Racutio]

Racutio would turn to his right and begin pacing along the catwalk. Because of the way he walks, there would be no tell-tale signs of footsteps or the clicking and clacking of his black leather flip-flops as he walks along the metal surface of the catwalk. He'd soon be at the opposite metal staircase to the one he went upstairs on. His mind beginning to wander as he looks back on all the moments he's been on other ships. Some ocean-bound, some space-bound. The greatest ship he's ever been on, however, was the M.S.S. (Military Space Ship) Faded Angel. A massive faded silver ship with angels engraved all over it's hull, and it's ship name emblazoned on both sides of it's hull. A truly beautiful work of art, capable of obliterating a moon if it wanted to, and taking out huge cities from planetary orbit. Racutio would be lost in thought for a good whole minute and a half before his eyes would come back into focus, due to his train of thought wandering the way it did, he'd realize he zoned out. Racutio would look around for a moment, then he'd look over to the truck Nixon had been under, and see a pair of legs underneath it from the other side of the truck.

Racutio would pace over to the truck and walk around it from the front. When he'd made his way around it, he'd have to blink for a moment, wondering if Nixon was really wearing what he was wearing right then and there. He'd raise an eyebrow, and take a few more steps before standing next to the eighteen year old youthful warrior, before speaking to him. His voice proud, powerful, and often inspirational to those he spoke to so often. His voice was often a rally for his friends and allies, and for his enemies and those that merely didn't like him, it'd be like that of a fearless, monstrous, and brutal warrior, that rivals the vocals of some of the most intimidating beings. Right now though, his voice would seemingly be slightly surprised, and slightly shifted. As if he doesn't understand something. That something, was how Nixon was dressed right now. "What're you wearing Nix...? You normally wear better than casual like me. Something make you change your clothing preference for our trip?" Racutio would smirk, before looking to his right, then back to Nixon in a half second. "Nevermind, don't answer that. You have your reasons, I'm sure. Let's head to the center of the boat. There's an opening in the middle of the boxes about forty by forty feet for a decent fighting point in the boxes for our spar before we hit shore. I suggest we use that spot, unless you found a better one while sleeping. I got a pretty good layout of the boat when we boarded and I separated for awhile." Racutio would reach into his right pocket again with his right hand and pull out his phone, checking the time. He'd then slide his phone back into his pocket after closing it's layout. "And we have a decent amount of time before we come to the docks. A couple hours in fact. So I won't need to tamper with time or anything to make sure we can spar." Racutio would hear the gulls above start cawing sporadically as they begin to sense the land before they can even see it, as is their sixth sense.

Racutio knew why they were so excited, and he'd chuckle slightly. "Heheh..." Racutio would look back to Nixon. "Shall we head to the opening in the crates and get started? We don't have all morning." With that, Racutio would put his hands in his pockets and start walking, walking right past Nixon. He'd make his way to thin, two and a half foot wide opening in the ship's crates. It'd be like a multi-colored hallway straight to their destination. He'd walk through the long path till he comes to the opening he mentioned, and he'd look around. The metal boxes would be lined up perfectly up to five boxes high all around. Some boxes nearby able to be climbed on top of because of nearby boxes and crates in smaller sizes. It'd be the perfect arena on the ship. "Here it is, Nixon!" He'd say in a raised voice, making it echo through the metal boxes to his position if he didn't follow him when he started moving. Racutio would pace forward a few steps before turning around. He'd turn his head to his right, and raise his right hand, opening a small circular rift the size of a porthole, and he'd reach into it, pulling out a thick dragon-weed blunt. He'd place it between his lips and wave his right hand dismissively, making the rift close as fast as it came into fruition. He'd place the tip of his left index finger up to the tip of the blunt, and an ember of his aura would appear at the tip of his finger, jetting from his finger like a blow torch. After his blunt is lit he'd move his finger and the flame would disappear. He'd take a drag from his blunt, look up at the sky, then sigh out the smoke he's held in for about fifteen seconds. "It's moments like this that I enjoy in life. The company of friends, the enjoyment of a good fight, and fire. Lots of fire." It was common knowledge for anyone who knew Racutio that fire was his favorite element. To him, it held destructive beauty unrivaled in it's magnificence and grace. It's been around as long as he has to boot, so to him, it's an element that's his friend to boot. He's used it countless times in countless situations. The smoke of his blunt would rise from it's tip lightly, as he periodically inhales and exhales the smoke. Racutio would smirk with the blunt between his lips. "I'm going enjoy this more than you could ever know my friend." And anyone who knows him well enough, knows Racutio enjoys fighting more than any other being around with eternity at his side...

 

[Paganism]

Hearing his friends words Nixon pivots off with his left foot spinning on the heel of his right only to then elegantly leap into the air flipping backward to land on the edge of a crait. After doing such elegant movements he smiles while looking down on his friend, both arms extend outward. Bowing slightly he then losens the joints in his shoulders letting his powerful arms fall back down to his sides. "Ah, my friend. I too enjoy times like these, especially times before a good spar when two pals get to test each others strengths." Still smiling he leaps off of the crait to land a couple yards before his comrade, eyes of the lightest green study each and every aspect about him. "Alright pal, when ever your ready," his voice hints of honor and resepect as he remains upright with both feet close together, his arms still close to his side. Standing there he goes over everything he had learned when in training with the animal tribe back in Heliconia forest. "Dearest friend, you may begin," he says in an accent.

 

[Racutio]

Racutio would only half-smile at the gesture of honoring him the first move. He'd stand in a leisure stance, standing straight with his arms at his sides. His eyes would begin to glow bright as the soul energy in the sea air collects around the arena sightlessly, and would only be felt as a shift deep down within the soul of his friend and opponent, as if the air had just been moved collectively, all at once. He'd then rotate his neck, popping it in all directions and loosening up, as well as dispersing the soul energy to the walls of the crates all around the two of them. The crates would give off no sound upon the collision of such energy to it's surface, due to it's structure as it is right now. Racutio would then lift right hand, and hold his fist staight forward and knuckles first as if to punch, standing at a distance, he's only grin. "Let's see what those animals taught you about fighting what can't be seen first, shall we?" With that said, he'd rapidly punch his right fist forward that's been held out for no more than a mere three seconds, and in a mere five seconds, he's managed to punch his fist at the air right at Nixon well over fifteen times, and in response, the dispersed surrounding energy would react, sending sightles energy balls the size and shape of his fist, as well as the same insane strength as the one using the attack, right at Nixon. An attack known as the Soul Barrage by Racutio. Racutio would then step to his left, and lift his right leg, kicking it forward twice on both sides of Nixon, but not directly at him, before lifting his leg up, then dropping it down. The energy would again, react, causing two kicks to fly at either side of him, and the third kick to come down on his head. This would all follow suit immediately after the Soul Barrage consisting of his fists had happened, only five seconds after, giving Nixon only a limited window to react with his agility. Racutio would make only one step back with his right foot, before holding his left hand open palmed to his side, drawing in energy to his left hand. But this energy isn't soul energy that he draws into his left hand. Something is different about it. Soon, kinetic static would begin to coarse through his left hand, and then his arm after a few more seconds(a total of five), and Racutio would then close his left palm into a fist, trapping the kinetic energy in his left arm entirely, causing his left arm to spark with a blue outline of pure kinetic energy he just charged up. "I just hope I don't smack your ass around too much, Nix. Don't want you getting knocked out so early in a fight! Hahaha!" Racutio would laugh, speaking sarcastically in tone. He knew Nixon wouldn't get his shit kicked so quickly, and he wasn't planning on pulling his punches for the sake of not hurting the kid. He knew that Nixon had a lot of talent hidden from him, and he planed on making it surface, one way, or another.

 

[Paganism]

Keen senses had always been there for the young warrior when he needed them the most; at times like this his sight, smell, hearing, and taste would clue him in on either what was about to come or what was occurring before him. Being in-human he's grateful for that which he can do, everything about him is beautiful like a poem. Nixon himself has surpassed most warriors whom have stood before him, whats so grand about this is the fact that he's only 18 year old. Nevertheless his perception has kicked in, his mind clues the combatant in on something which he finds quite odd. Standing there he looks around, greens eyes scanning the scene; the ambiance feels off and because of this he prepares himself for the clash that's obviously on it's way.

Stepping back the movement that causes Nixon to possiton his left foot in a different location was that of an arm raising with a clenched fist. As this occurs he tilts his head in curiosity, what is it his buddy is trying to symbolize. His inquisitiveness soon be answered by the voice of his great friend whom had made a statement about the animals teaching him of combat. Smiling his head returns to its normal position as he then reply's "Ahh, so you want to see what the animals have taught me, well you-." Cut off Nixon had realized something. The chance in the air pressure, it wasn't normal and what ever it was seemed to be heading straight for him. The youngster needs to act fast, oh how glorious this will be.

Perfect timing, Nixion had always been wonderful when it came to planning his actions right. Leaping to the left he does what looks to be a back hand spring but to the side; the shift in his body weight and the placement of a hand on the surface of the deck came about in an exquisite manner. Landing on his feet he realized that he had avoided that which had sailed in his direction; the space between them never once changed the only alteration was his body being placed in a new location. Nodding he then smiles as he begins to speak, his words coming out smoothly; the tone in his voice hinting of great honor and respect. "So you want to see what those animals taught me? Well, it will take more than that." Smiling his arm raises, stopping at the right point he then motions to come at him with his fingers; his predatory instincts kicking in as a trigger in his mind screams to win.

Nevertheless he gets what he asked for because at that second a hail storm of kicks fly his way; the eyes of the ever so proud warrior gleaming with excitement s he feels them come his way. Dodging and weaving he knows he must act with precision, something the animal tribe had taught him; plan every action carefully. Screeching to his right he doesn't realize that one kick had happened to come from above, his only way to avoid this one is to catch it. Jetting upward from his sides both arms catch the forceful kick, from there a plan formulates within his head, one that may or may not be rewarding. Smiling he does a leap frog effect in which he shoots over the kick to place himself closer to his opponent, fangs bare from the grin as nails black as night extend into razor sharp claws.

 

[Racutio]

Racutio would only keep his ever present grin, before taking a another long inhaled drag from his blunt, before he slides his left foot back, and extends his left arm behind him. The kinetic energy in his left arm would build up, and the static from the kinetic energy would begin to spark violently. Although the energy is sparking violently, his clothing takes no damage from the violent and volatile energy. Racutio would open his palm, and one of the crates behind him would begin to groan. A large blue crate. He'd quickly bend his knees lightly, and leap up and over, performing a backflip away from Nixon just as he leaps forwards, claws extended, and fangs bared. While in midair, he'd slide his left palm forward in Nixon's direction several feet below(a total of twenty feet above), and the crate would screech as it's forced to move against it's will by the kinetic energy in his left arm, making sparks fly from the lower surface of the crate as metal grinds against metal, and it picks up speed, sliding at him like a giant's maul, or a gigantic psychotic lego brick with a mind of it's own, out for revenge for being taken advantage of all those years by the humans who stored things in it.

Racutio would chuckle at the thought that just passed through his head, his red eyes glowing brightly now, and his white long-sleeve shirt flying through the sea winds as he soars through the air. Racutio would twist his angle, throwing his right foot out and his left foot forward, sending himself at an orange crate that was behind the blue one he sent at Nixon. He'd stand there leisurely now, as if his leap took no challenge at all, even though it was an extreme act of agility. Racutio would point his right hand at Nixon, with his index finger and middle finger pointed at him, much like the imitation of a gun made several times over the years. "Those claws and fangs won't help you against me, Nix. And animalistic instincts will get you even less. Remember, that instinct is only a part of combat. You also need combat skill, and experience..." Racutio would grin, almost maliciously, his teeth seeming as sharp as a dragon's maw at that very moment, and his presence become dominating over their arena, as a presence of incredible power and terror. His power now minorly un-suppressed to give Nixon a slight taste of what he's really holding back. His aura becoming slightly present to his friend's eyesight, and all his senses at once overwhelmingly. His aura appearing as a fiery outline around his body. "And I've had an eternity my friend. I know that with every fight, there is always an ascending learning experience for each fighter. Heheh." With that said, his aura would slide and focus at the end of his two right fingers, and into his fist alone in three seconds total. He'd aim right at the crate, waiting for him to leap over or around it to avoid, ready to counter-attack with another blow to the many he's already given his pal Nixon. "If you keep giving me all of these openings Nix, it's gonna be inevitable that you get hurt at some point." He'd take another drag from his blunt, as he keeps his glowing eyes focused on Nixon's soul through the crate with his glowing carmine red eyes. His white long-sleeve shirt blowing in the wind, and the smoke from the end of his blunt moving lightly on the sea winds. The energy in his right hand focused and glowing vibrantly, compressed so densely, that whatever it's capable of, won't be pleasant when it's used. "But don't worry, if you get hurt too bad, I'll always help bring you back from the damage with my healing blade, Nur'tel. You got my word on that." Racutio would say this last phrase with a sense of deep honor and a smile. He meant every word. He wasn't going to hurt his close friend and not make up for it in the end. His always keeps his word, even in a spar or a fight between his enemies alike. A truly honorable warrior and soul to the core.

 

[Paganism]

Nixon smile and like always he remains silent watching everything before him transpire; he's ready. Green eyes, hues so light they make him look distant seem to focus in on one point, that one point being Racutio himself. The look he gives his friend is a haunting blankness, the reason for this is to make himself nearly unreadable. When one cant be read it generates a harder fight to win because then their actions can't be seen, cant be read; yes Racutio may be able to read what he may do next but because of this gaze it's harder to do so. As he watches he see's Racutio take another long drag from his blunt, what is it this warrior plans to send his way next? The only way to know is to wait and see, that one technique mastered from all the training he's went though with the clan of animals whom are of human characteristics. Racutio should know that he's in for one hell of a fight because after all he's met these individuals; if he could read their energy he could see that they weren't to be fucked with when in a melee fight.

Smiling Nixon slides his left foot back quick and elegant like, this fight about to take on a whole new level. That's right, it's Nixons turn to show Racutio what he's capable of. A wicked smile decorates his face as he does a back hand spring to avoid the crate, the second his feet land back on the ground he speaks, a voice sounding relaxed seems to kiss the air as his words travel in his opponents direction. "Aye, you ready, it's my turn to attack." Bounding forward his body shoots toward Racutio, the angle of his eyebrows changing into a downard ark with a smile that complements the hellacious look. What was once a couple yards turns into feet, his speed inhuman faster than that of a vampire or lycan. Where will Racutio move and how will he attack, every action must be precise in order to win this and every move must be planned out.

 

[Racutio]

Racutio could see it now. The look in Nixon's eye where cunning kicks in, and he goes more focus and in tune, from Racutio's height atop the crates, he'd quickly calculate all of those moves into his memory of Nixon's technique and movements. He put on his face for more than just being unreadable. His eyes can see not only in a direct sort of vision, but now, all around, due to how his dispersed the soul energy all around prior. He could see with sight beyond sight, thanks to his tactical quick thinking and cunning, all the time his eyes glow, he can check angles, trajectory, and even a soul's vitals just from what he can sense from the soul energy. He'd grin and leap down and land on the ground below, making a flurry if air strike the ground from the swiftness of his drop and all of his weight coming down so fast. He was more than looking forward to this fight. As a warrior, this kid had a fighting spirit for combat. He'd smirk after only a few seconds after Nixon had just got started speaking, he'd throw his right palm forward and his left hand bent up at an angle with his fist low and primed before leaping off the ground fly right at him at the same exact moment Nixon's foot left the ground to sprint, Racutio would leap forward, flying across the ground, he'd throw his left palm out a mere foot, before all the energy in his right palm lights up bright like a fire, and an explosion ensues from his palm, only a foot out from Nixon, causing the explosion to erupt forward rather than outward. Racutio would only smirk viciously.

"You gotta be faster then Nixon! So far, your speed is good, but those claws aren't going to rend my flesh at this pace!" Racutio would then quickly take five steps back before darting forward with his left fist thrown forward, punching his aura straight out of his left fist in a more instant way in a soul pulse right at Nixon through the explosion, passing through it ethereally to stun him quickly hopefully if these tactics worked. Racutio's now fighting with his combat stances and martial training along side his sheer immeasurable soul aura. He'd step back one more step before leaping back into the air, he'd fly a few feet up and land in midair with his feet placed towards the ground as if he's standing on it. He'd only smirk, keeping his rhythm and pace up so he can change up his stance at any given moment. This fight was going to be a true fight. Not some run of the mill fight. This was two warriors going one on one with no weapons. They are the weapons!

 

[Racutio]

((Why didn't you post your attack with that post too? You gave me another attack. XD))