KOV IX: Round 1- Daud Al Talibah vs Zeon Liafador

The roar of engines thundered through the night sky as cars drove so fast they were almost nothing but streaks of blur that ran along the race track. People could be seen standing along the sides of the roads cheering, but their voices drowned out by the vehicles that seemed to never stop zooming down the seemingly endless tracks. But if the noise of the race track wasn't enough, maybe the soul bursting dubstep that was thumping would surly rupture an eardrum. Bright multicolored neon lights illuminated the dark night sky from the dozens of air ships that were the source of lighting and even occasionally cast a white spotlight down to the lead racer... if it could catch up with it. At the same time, showing live video feed along the large screens that hung on the side of some of the more larger air ships.

This was The Matriarch Liafador's first match in the infamous KoV. While Zeon had never participated in the KoV before, this year the winning prize was something that the Italian Cardinal couldn't ignore. A wish from an actual dying star, a wish that could alter the fabric of time and space without consequences. What is it that she had to do? Enroll in a combative tournament that went by 'The King of the Vine'. Where the name of the event came from, she didn't know, but the Liafador Warrior was confident in her skills and knew that she had what it took to take the wish not for herself, but for her family.

But what would she use the wish for if she won? She could bring deceased Liafadors to life, those who's lives were taken too soon. It would make their family stronger, maybe even bond closer. Or maybe the eradication of an entire bloodline, The Knightfalls have for too long been a pain in the Liafador's side and with one wish, she could alter history. So many opportunities that a single dying star was offering to the mortal, and not so mortal warriors that reside on the planet. Warriors that Zeon would strike down one by one with her own sword.

Who was her first prey? A name was all she was given, Daud Al Talibah, but she had never heard of this person before. Who was her opponent who's name was foreign to her? Would he be worthy enough for her blade to draw his blood? But there was an issue... how was she to find her opponent in such a chaotic environment if she didn't know what he looked like? She was going to have to get his undivided attention, draw him out and bring him to her. Her chestnut eyes quickly darted over to a pit crew that was working frantically trying to get their crimson vehicle up and running. As if an idea had popped into her mind, the deadly Cardinal sprung into action.

Dressed in her Matriarch armor her body rushed through the sea of audience, weaving in and out effortlessly as she leaped over the small gate that separated the pedestrians to the pit crew. With their backs to her, she pushed the man who was in the way of the passenger door to the side and forcefully opened the door. In one smooth motion slid into her seat and pulled her sword out at the driver who was staring at her with wide eyes, his entire body growing stiff from fear as the cold steel of her curved blade pressed lightly against his throat. "Drive." Demanded the Matriarch.

The crimson race car sped onto the race track like a bat out of hell, quickly building speed and passing up the slower drivers as Zeon's eyes didn't bother to look at the road but rather at the man who was driving. While his helmet was blocking his face, just the way he was sitting before her told her that he was fearing for his life, which was wise, but not necessary. He wasn't her target. "Don't stop." The Liafador ordered as quickly slipped her blade back in it's sheath, turning her body to the passenger window, rolling it down as she began climbing out. The wind pushed against her body as her hair whipped around her face, the roar of the wind making her almost deaf as she carefully pulled herself out of the passenger seat and made her way to the top of the speeding vehicle.

With the air forcefully pressing against her body she pulled out two of her bulldog arrows and jammed them into the roof of the car, the teeth of the arrows locking them in place as she then tied the steel fiber string that were connected to the arrows around her waist to prevent her from falling off the high speed car. Taking a stand her body struggled to stand against the sheer force of the air as the arrows kept her tied down from being swept away. Then, just as she planned, the spot light from one of the many airships suddenly shift over to her, focusing upon her as video feed of her was shown upon one of the larger airships. Drawing her blade she rose it high into the air, her way of calling her opponent out to fight her. Would he answer?

@zeon_liafador:

He awakens to...energy. Pure and unsubjugated. Metamorphed into the form of velocity and volume. Indeed, those two imperatives ruled the busy F-Z racetrack. It's intrusive symphony of roaring motors violently clashing with the genre of electronic dance music that was dubstep. It's reiterative lure echoed far and wide, even through the not so distant alleyway where Daud came to his senses. At first he is confused, oblivious to why he found himself in this odd location.

But then it comes flooding back, the vivid memories of an opportunity for change. KoV, a fighting tournament where the winner gets the ultimate prize: a means to reweave history itself. The ability to alter both time and space, to delete any mistake and solve any issue. It was an opportunity he could not let slip as The Son of Shaytan, an heir to the throne of the most despised man in the world and a slayer of his own kin.

Now enlightened again Daud walks towards the source of light after recovering his sword from the ground, feeling the brick wall along the way in an attempt to dim out the surrounding sensory stimuli. Focusing only on the rigid texture of the weathered structure. The quantity and intensity of sensory information was truly overwhelming for someone who can hear the heartbeats of everyone and everything in a 7 kilometre radius. His walk, formerly a crippled stroll already fixed as he reached the end of the wall. Adaptation, the most primal survival mechanism of all organisms was underway.

He looks around for a sign of his quarry, daringly beginning to employ the full power of his senses. Like an echo, gossip and hear-say eventually find their way into his ear canal, but unnecessarily. He spotted her call-out on the enormous monitor suspended on the airships in the sky and after pulling up his purple mask into an impromptu beanie and stealing a guitar case from a nearby beggar to hide his weapon, all for the sake of comouflage, he dives into the crowd by the racetrack. Why? He was a tiger, but a tiger would not blindly charge to his death.

Several minutes passed as he left the Liafador in wait, awkwardly standing on the roof of her car like a parody of the Statue of Liberty circling several times around the seating area where he sat. But now it was time to act. To mere men the cars zoomed past at blinding speeds, but to Daud it appeared as if their bout was a measly snail race. As the crimson snail that the Liafador fastened herself to approached The Saint of Sinners prepared, once again lowering his mask and reaching down to his belt-attached bandolier he pulled out a handful of steel caltrops and in a mighty pitch threw them over the high grating that seperated him from the track, littering it in miniscule pointy death-stars that waited for an unlucky tire to pierce. Even if her frightened driver had the skill to avoid them, there was a reason he threw the caltrops before their car actually aproached: Because eventually one of the racers ahead of them would cause a mass car-crash.

But he didn't stop there and revealed his sword from the beaten guitar-case, Lullaby, the Culler of Bastards, immediately invoking panic among the fans. The mob sprung to life like an unsettled hive of bees and took off running. Meanwhile the physically robust Knightfall Tiger calmly descended towards the racetrack, using the emptied benches as stairs on his way down. Even now, in the face of danger, he remained calm and collected swaggering towards the grating. With delicate slashes he made an opening onto the track and entered, oblivious to the race that ensued around and sights nested at his prey.

Irritated, that's how Zeon felt as she stood awaiting for her opponent. Not embarrassment, shame, humiliation, awkwardness or even unease. It was pure irritation. Whoever she was about to fight, they were beginning to quickly wear her nerves down. Since her time in The Pit her patience had been decreased dramatically. Anger was always burning inside her chest like a caged animal waiting to be released. But like a caged animal, it made her feral... sometimes too feral to focus on battle. She had to keep calm, collective... and defeat the person who had been keeping her waiting, with a clear mind.

But before she could think of anything else, a ear piercing screech could be heard not too far ahead as the smell of burned rubber filled her nares. Her attention was pulled to the race track as cars began colliding with one another, spinning out of control and rolling off the tracks and her driver was heading right towards the pile up. With one swift swing of her adamantium blade it severed the line that secured her to the vehicle and like a spring, her legs pushed her off the roof of the car as the tires began to shriek to a halt, plowing into another vehicle as an explosion of golden flames erupted behind her. The intense heat of the sudden combustion pressing against her back sent her flying forward more forcefully, causing her to loose her landing as her body crashed onto pavement with a series of tumbles. Her body plowed like a rag-doll until it came to a sudden stop as race cars were seen actively trying to avoid the fallen Matriarch. With the wind knocked out of her, she still rose from the ground, taking in a sharp breath as her body ached from the not so graceful landing. If it wouldn't have been for her armor taking most of the force of impact landing, she would have been dealing with series of broken bones, twisted ligaments and pulled tendons. That bastard was going to pay.

Her brown eyes glared ahead as sea of chaos could be seen rushing from the audience. Men and women running like herbivores trying to escape with their lives as if a carnivore was nipping at their heels. Then, she saw him. Emerging forward was the anarchist himself, making his way towards The Liafador Matriarch. "Infine." <Finally.> Her lips curled as her eyes quickly darted down to the blade in his hand and as she was about to raise her own, she realized she had dropped her own blade upon her rather unimpressive landing just seconds ago.

But not a hit of worry seemed to reflect in her eyes as she swiftly threw out her left hand followed quickly by her right hand just a second later. Escaping from her fingertips were throwing knives, tearing through the air towards the Knightfall Bastard. The first blade aimed at the left clavicle where his left subclavian artery would be resting at, while the second one flew towards his right hip right where the sciatic nerve would be making it's way forward from the back. As the blades were out of her reach she then quickly pulled her bow out with one of her burst arrows in place and let the arrow soar at his direction. But to the trained eye, it would have been obvious that the arrow was not directly aimed at the Knightfall himself. Instead it was aimed at the vehicle that would have been rushing right behind him. As soon as the arrow would have made impact with the emerald race car it would detonate, causing not just the arrow to explode, but the entire vehicle to mushroom into a deathtrap of fire and heat piercing strap metal that would be rushing up behind the fellow warrior.