[WRESTLING] Azrael vs. V-Onyx-Three

He stepped onto the forum, without the spiked armor he would typically bring into combat, head high and muscles flexing as he amped himself for the coming battle. He rolled a shoulder back as he looked for his opponent. From what he understood, it was another of the Forge. He had not spoken with V-Onyx-Three but he was...aware of what had happened between them and his own spawn.

How embarrassing.

For Azrael, this fight was oddly personal. Someone that his spawn had personally fought, with a resulting draw, and then hunted alongside, the spawn in which he saw nothing but disappointment, frustration, and regret. He struggled to give the feelings words and labels, but he knew that he needed to win this fight. Not that he would express this. If they held anything back, it would not be right.

As his opponent stepped up to face him, Azrael's eyes ran up and down its form. Not too different from his. Taller, but more lithe where he was brute force and power. It would be an even match, hopefully. A good match.

He grunted, taking a deep, aggrssive breath, sending the energy of the inhale directly into his chest, where the glow burned ever so brighter as he fired himself up. "The onyx," he grunted, as a greeting. "You are the child of champions. This will be a good fight." Another reason to win - a worthy adversary would make for a greater victory.

There was really nothing else he had to say. They were both forge, they were both strong, and they would both give it their all. He readied himself as well, clenching all four hands into fists, and then lunging forward.

Usually, the claws would be out, and slashing away, or blasts of fire would be leaving his jaws, but this was not the Deathmatch. So the attacks that game Onyx's way were targeted close-fisted strikes, aiming to immediately put him on the defensive.

It crept in to the edge of the crowd, like a dark shadow in the corner of a room. Toxic eyes glared at the two combatants in the middle of the forum and it, for once, did not make much of a show in its appearance. It did not burst in violently or loudly, or cause trouble or chaos, however much that Thing in it craved to do so, but rather took a seat. And watched. Quietly.

It was not quiet inside its mind. I HOPE THEY KILL EACH OTHER!! I WANT TO SEE THEM TEAR EACH OTHER TO SHREDS, BLOOD AND BONE AND VISCERA!! WE SHOULD HELP, WE SHOULD GO DOWN AND OPEN THEIR GUTS OURSELVES!! This is not the place to be causing problems. This is not the Deathmatch. We should leave. There is nothing for us here. Nothing but heartache. It grit its teeth. COWARDS!! The beast roared and lunged against its cage, but Helion had not come here to insert itself into the olympics and fuck everything up. That did sound like its idea of a good time, but also it wanted to watch...this.

It had a vested interest in seeing Azrael lose. It didn't think he would, the beast seemed to never fail at anything he set his mind to, but it would be better then him winning. It did not particularly care for Onyx-Three, but there was something that had changed during their battle against the Sand Worm. A fighter, a soldier, and not somebody that dared to underestimate it. He did not look down on it, even after their...incident. He had been frustratingly graceful when confronted by Vargas but savage on the battlefield. Something like respect had taken place. Not much, and it would never admit it, but if there was anyone that V-Ruby-One could say they didn't hate, it was probably this one.

So...it would be really really funny for Helion if the onyx beat Azrael in the first round of the Olympics. That would please it greatly.

As the blows landed without an attempted defense, at first Azrael was confused - surely someone would try to defend themselves against a flurry like this, but then the onyx dropped and he understood. He wasn't willing to give up offense for defense. Azrael could respect that.

The blow against his legs surely knocked him off balance, but it didn't fully take him down - Azrael was sturdy and built and it would take more to fully get him off his feet, but it interrupted his blows enough to get him staggering. But it also put Onyx in prime kick range.

Azrael followed up the moment his balance recovered. It was a pinpoint, precise attack, directed at Onyx's stomach, right below the ribs. A powerful strike aimed to knock the wind out of him but do no more damage then that. Each toe of his foot was curled in to punch rather then stab with the unretractable claws.

He had, admittedly, been hoping for the satisfying feeling such a powerful blow would deliver him, but the onyx was fast. Faster then he expected. It was only a short clip of fur and flesh that he felt his foot impact before they were darting out of his range.

Azrael snarled and planted his foot back on the ground. He glared at the onyx for a moment, the heat of combat flashing in his eyes, before he was pushing off again to close the gap and unleash another flurry of blows from close fists.

He was, at least, predictable and straight-forward.

He admired his opponent's bravery as they met in the middle, Azrael with his many-armed blows, the onyx with a full tackle meant to sweep him off his feet. It surprised him a bit - he had not expected the gembound to completely throw itself at his legs, but he took it in stride, falling backwards, quickly tucking his wings in a way where they would not be broken by his bodyweight slamming into them. They both went down, and Azrael grunted loudly as the wind was knocked out of him by the ground rising to meet him.

But being on the ground did not make him defenseless. He still had a lot of arms and the onyx hadn't let go of him. He raised a lower arm and opened the fist a bit, bringing the side of it in a chopping motion down on where the top of the onyx's shoulder met the base of his neck, in an effort to get him to let go of him.