Misfire
Minor
The Chamberlain, His Incomparable Immensity, Emperor Misfire. The Accidental Butcher of Anyone He Wasn't Aiming At
Improving. Honest!
Posts: 449
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Post by Misfire on Jun 4, 2012 18:45:31 GMT -5
Whoa. Someone's Reid's age would have trouble contorting his body like that. Seeing Willard manage it actually causes Reid no small amount of surprise, and the Irishman pays for that split-second of distraction as he's tossed in turn.
He rolls with the motion, tumbling head over heels back into a standing position. He doesn't stay there long though. In seconds, he's pressing Willard, firing off punches in an attempt to push the other fighter back.
Like Willard, Reid is obviously glorying in the fight.
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Post by Swerve on Jun 15, 2012 11:59:06 GMT -5
Willard has only just recovered his balance when Reid comes at him again and he falls back, retreating with his arms raised to guard. He misses his exhaust pipes.
He doesn't back off too long; after a few steps, he pivots to Reid's left and lunges, aiming to put an elbow in the other fighter's ribs.
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Misfire
Minor
The Chamberlain, His Incomparable Immensity, Emperor Misfire. The Accidental Butcher of Anyone He Wasn't Aiming At
Improving. Honest!
Posts: 449
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Post by Misfire on Jun 18, 2012 14:05:55 GMT -5
"That is one hella weird blocking style you've got there, boyo," Reid mutters as he swings, "S'got to get your arms bruised up somethin' awful."
The elbow to ribs hits just right to take the wind out of Reid and make him feel a bit nauseous. He dances back out of reach, circling and watching for an opening.
OOC: timeskip to further on in the fight maybe, where they've both taken some licks and are maybe feeling that fact?
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Post by Swerve on Jul 19, 2012 13:28:31 GMT -5
Reid's observation is spot-on, given the bruises in various stages of healing up and down the length of Willard's forearms. There are several particularly angry-looking red contusions on top of older bruises; Reid's responsible for the new ones, in fact. Willard just grins at him.
"Better my arms than my face," he says.
As the fight wears on and his arms hurt more and more, he keeps swinging through it, though his punches are a little slower, his arms a little stiffer. He's lucky he isn't a straight boxer, or he'd be screwed. A quick jab from Reid has re-opened the cut on his brow and he pauses on one side of the ring to scrub blood away from his eye with the back of one hand. The air is like fire in his lungs; he doesn't fight like he's as old as his body looks, but the fact remains that his human form is not in its prime. He'll keep pushing anyway.
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Misfire
Minor
The Chamberlain, His Incomparable Immensity, Emperor Misfire. The Accidental Butcher of Anyone He Wasn't Aiming At
Improving. Honest!
Posts: 449
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Post by Misfire on Jul 21, 2012 22:16:54 GMT -5
Willard's human form may not be in equivalent condition to Reid's but the older fighter has been steadily wearing down the Irishman through sheer violence and dogged determination. Somewhere along the way, Reid stopped worrying about winning, and started really reveling in the fight. He's just been enjoying himself, enjoying the challenge that Willard presents, and enjoying pitting himself against such a uniquely determined challenger.
Reid nose is broken, his ear is split, and his own chest is covered in bruises from Willard's punches. Still, the young man grins at Willard, breathing raggedly through his mouth.
"Win or lose, man, you and I, we should get a beer or ten after this," he says as he kicks out, once more trying to knock Willard off balance and take him down. The problem with the move is that earlier in the fight, Reid took a hard blow to his knee. When he kicks out, the damaged knee gives way and pitches Reid forward- right into a perfect punching solution.
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Post by Swerve on Aug 15, 2012 12:37:40 GMT -5
Something moves painfully, crackling in Willard's side as he shifts with that kick. He doesn't remember when in this fight the stiffness and ache in his ribs turned to fractures. He doesn't really care. In fact, he returns Reid's grin with one of his own, lopsided though it may be.
"You're on!" he snaps back as Reid topples on a bad knee. Willard isn't too proud to take the opening, though the hook he aims at Reid's jaw ends up directed more at his temple.
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Misfire
Minor
The Chamberlain, His Incomparable Immensity, Emperor Misfire. The Accidental Butcher of Anyone He Wasn't Aiming At
Improving. Honest!
Posts: 449
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Post by Misfire on Aug 19, 2012 14:40:51 GMT -5
Willard's fist connects with Reid's temple and stars explode behind the Irishman's eyes. Reid hits the mat hard and lies there for a slow count of three before trying to push himself up. He looks out through the ropes and catches sight of Rosa's worried face pressed as close to the ring as crowd control will allow.
Pain spears through his leg and Reid shakes his head and murmurs, still looking at Rosa, "I'm sorry honey, I can't... next time I'll..."
He rolls over on his back and waves a surrender at the ref, who restarts a countdown. Reid turns his head so that he can look up at Willard.
"You're buying, boyo."
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Fleetwind
Major
The Chancellor, His Eminent Grandeur, Marquis Fleetwind. The Insurgent Subduer of A Non-Threatening Cute Little Furry Kitten
Twined Elf
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Post by Fleetwind on Aug 19, 2012 19:39:54 GMT -5
Fletcher's eyes go wide as Reid falls, and then he relaxes, relieved that he called it right. His gaze darts towards the Dealer, to see what his boss has to say about the business, though he actually doesn't turn his head to check. He only moves his eyes.
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Swindle
Major
This space for rent.
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Post by Swindle on Aug 21, 2012 20:51:32 GMT -5
The Dealer elbows the little man in the side. "Good call, Fletch," he beams, already mentally counting his winnings. "You really oughta lighten up, though, you know? It's not like I'm going to break your fingers over miscalling a fi-" Cell phone ringtone "Hold on, I have to take this. Hello? Morocco? No, I can't move anything through Morocco right now, they- how much? You're joking. Triple it. Fine, then double it. Do you want it done or not? I look forward to doing business. Always a pleasure." Cell phone repocketed. "What was I saying? Right, lighten up. It's not like the fight was supposed to be fixed and you called the wrong guy. Then I'd be pissed."
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Post by Swerve on Aug 26, 2012 15:11:36 GMT -5
As the ref counts, Willard forces air into his burning lungs and waits, tense, arms trembling and fists clenched. He expects Reid to get up again. Part of him wants Reid to get up again and resume the fight. He's not spent yet; he's still brimming with pent-up frustration, unspent energy, more than his body is built to handle. He can feel muscles trying to knot up, overworked. He bounces on his toes to fend off the cramps.
There's no sense of victory when Reid gives it up. Willard just feels sort of… thwarted. He sags against the ropes, setting his sides afire as he lifts his arms, and the smile he gives Reid is a half-hearted thing at best.
"Sure," he wheezes.
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Misfire
Minor
The Chamberlain, His Incomparable Immensity, Emperor Misfire. The Accidental Butcher of Anyone He Wasn't Aiming At
Improving. Honest!
Posts: 449
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Post by Misfire on Sept 16, 2012 20:43:32 GMT -5
Reid slowly- and painfully- pushes himself up. Staggering over to Willard, the Irishman thrusts out his hand.
"Damn good match, man! Stay in the circuit. I want another chance at you!" he says, grinning.
Heading toward wrap/fade?
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Fleetwind
Major
The Chancellor, His Eminent Grandeur, Marquis Fleetwind. The Insurgent Subduer of A Non-Threatening Cute Little Furry Kitten
Twined Elf
Posts: 730
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Post by Fleetwind on Sept 18, 2012 20:32:50 GMT -5
Fletcher is elbowed, but unfortunately, as fragile as he is, that's enough to bruise him. Despite this, his smile is only slightly pained. "That's, erm... good to know? I'll make sure not to do that... other thing, then." He glances around for the easiest way out that is least likely to yield new bruises.
OOC: I'm for fade/wrap.
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Swindle
Major
This space for rent.
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Post by Swindle on Sept 22, 2012 13:28:47 GMT -5
"Good man," the Dealer replies, taking the top off his soda to drain the last precious drops of cola. He searches in a coat pocket for tonight's program, consulting it critically. "Looks like that was the main event for the night. It's all downhill from here. Let's head out."
OOC: Wrap is fine with me.
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Post by Swerve on Oct 22, 2012 14:29:54 GMT -5
Weary and still a bit wary, Willard nevertheless shakes that offered hand. It was a good fight. He can't muster up much of a smile, though.
"I'm not going anywhere," he says in such a way that he might be talking about something else entirely.
OOC: Sure.
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