Who knows. Who cares? (abloodymess) wrote in athinblackline, @ 2009-07-07 00:35:00 |
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Current mood: | high |
Who: Damphyr, Deadpool
When: July 4th (backdated)
Where: sand arena
What: Dampyr vs. Deadpool
Warnings:language, violence
He was now at round four. He couldn't really believe himself that he'd made it this far, though the last one had really knocked him for a loop for a while. It had been a guy that could put up forcefields and of course he'd run smack dab into the first one that had been put up and it had been so hard of an impact it had made him dizzy and unsteady on his feet for a bit, which allowed his opponent to get quite a few hits in. It was almost seeming as if that was going to be the last round for him and the audience had thought so too.
Then he'd gotten a 'second wind', coming after he'd managed to scratch the guy and get him to bleed. The scent had..done things to him and the increased vigor and aggressiveness the scent had caused him to have had played in his favor and pretty soon more bloodshed had went on, he'd been able to get enough of it that he could produce a few forcefields of his own, though he only did that once because he really didn't know what the hell he was doing. His senses were still inflamed when he'd been proclaimed the winner much to the surprise of the audience so he'd been able to go on, and here he was.
He was coming down from that 'high' he'd gotten during the last fight, sometimes the rush he got from ingesting blood was better then a drug induced high for him, though that had its dangers too, as sometimes his senses and reflexes got all out of wack if he'd ingested too much. He had been hustled to the next place he'd have to fight, and as he looked around he realized it looked like an obstacle course. Goddamnit, this was probably his least favorite area to have to fight, but it wasn't like he got much of a choice or anything.
He took a shallow breath, trying to make sure he was good and focused for this fight, it was sure not to be a pushover, as his opponent had also won quite a few fights he assumed or they wouldn't have been able to come this far. His black slacks, the only article of clothing he had on, looked quite torn and tattered, now most of the material was torn off at the knees instead of lower, the article of clothing had taken a beating. He waited, teeth gritting, he wanting to get this show on the fucking road, so to speak, a bit of adrenaline still coursing its way through his system, making him want this to get started even more.