Keith Richards Vs Shamino Warhen

[Victoria Alexander]

Location: Scrap Metal

Here large piles of scrap metals such as old pipes, metal beams ect.. Please use your surroundings. No weapons for this round.

[Shamino Warhen Ph.D]

Down the narrow, unpaved roads of the yard, five Lincoln LS series vehicles stayed in tight formation, never more than several feet from each other in a single file. They surrounded the Scrap Metal dump in a semi circle- a wide, branching arch of all black vehicles sitting on 18 inch, five spoked wheels and heavy chrome. All of the doors opened at once, delivering a plethora of killer suits, men in black. One person in the third vehicle stood out over all the others, exiting with a black blazer and a crimson red attire underneath. He removed his blazer, tossing it back into the luxury vehicle, and took what was handed to him by an employee- a wide shouldered, but thick-padded leather jacket. Slipping it over his dress shirt, he gave several quick jabs to the air in front him with minimal reduced speed. The wide shoulders and thin sleeves did well not to take away the little punching distance he had.

Upon exiting the vehicle and placing on his jacket, every individual slipped back into the vehicles wordlessly. Shamino placed a cigarette into his mouth, lit it with a zippo, and then placed the zippo atop of his car. Smoke billowed out of his nostrils and mouth upon his lungs receiving a sharp inhale of tobacco.

He looked down at his left hand, peering down at his nails casually as he waited. Taking a quick bite and spitting a piece of nail off to the side out of habit, he slipped his hands into his jacket pockets and removed two thin, leather driving gloves. He took his time slipping into them, flexing and curling his fingers so that he could break the new gloves in. Shamino stepped away from his plethora of vehicles, into the center of the small clearing between the hills of steel and iron. With his foot he carved a thick line into the dirt, stepped behind it, and waited.

[Keith Richards]

Keith felt completely outclassed by his opponent this time around. Usually he could easily set himself apart by knowing he was better off than most when he made an entrance, it was something he usually took some measure of pride in. But there was nothing much he could do that would best arriving in a motorcade of luxury vehicles.

He had been watching through what looked like what was left of a spring mattress and a few other rusted items he couldn't make out the uses of. With a sigh Keith walked around the pile, the hood of his light gray hooded sweatshirt hiding his eyes while his head was tilted toward the ground.

A good twenty-five feet from his scheduled opponent he unzipped the sweatshirt so he could easily slip out of it if needed, showing the white muscle shirt underneath, and the brown leather belt holding his faded jeans in place. While he was walking toward the center he watched his opponent carve a line through the dirt, marking it as the starting area.

Keith stepped up to the line and held his right hand over it, his hand open to a quick shake before the fight. Not his usual way of starting a fight, but since he wasn't the one with five cars worth of people to back him up Keith didn't see any long term benefit for spitting in the guys eyes to get things started off in his favor.

[Shamino Warhen Ph.D]

Shamino regarded the hand momentarily. He's offering his hand out to me like this fight means something. was the first thought to go through his mind. Fuck me, this kid probably doesn't even know who I am...

It was obvious the amount of delay that went into moving up his hand to give the hand shake. Twenty, thirty seconds went by before he finally reached up and gave the young man one solid, firm grip before stepping back several paces, loosening the muscles in his arms and rotating his neck side to side, the luxuries he never usually gets when in a real combat situation. No fatalities... Hnn, Even in Varron there was one or two of those.


"Just some fair warning." Shamino called out to his opponent, stopping his dodgy movement and standing still, his hands somewhat still in front of his face. "I put kid like you in a wheel chair, and broke a guys neck by spearing him down a flight of stone stairs." His non chalant voice, combined with the half lit cigarette still in his mouth, would go against Victoria's decree of 'hot air means nothing'. Shamino disagreed- it was time to turn up the heat.

Shamino started his advance towards Keith slow, deliberate, with quick hand movements to cover his upper torso. His eyes, affixed at his opponent's waist and leg area, also allowed him to narrow his eyes and keep an eye on his cigarette, which he still hauled off of as he inched closer. Come on kid, hit me.

[Keith Richards]

Keith, being different from most convectional fighters in the sense of modern fighting styles lacking grit and reality, was momentarily focused on the cigarette while their hands clasped together after a long wait. In reality if someone walks into a fight with a cigarette there is two very distinct reasons for not putting that out. One is the more normal and conventional, that the person is an addict. However Keith wasn't in that demographic, Keith saw a weapon to be wary of.

When their hands were released after a firm shake Keith took a subtle step back and listened to the posturing of his opponent. "It's nice to know what I look like through your eyes." Keith returned with a subtle grin, his eyes still drifting from the cigarette to various other main focal points on the body as he waited to see how his opponent would get the fight started. He was almost glad to see that it wouldn't be him, even if he did usually like to be the aggressor.

Keith turned his left shoulder forward slightly and raised his hands into a loose guard from his torso to his chin. While his opponent shifted forward he was quickly aware of how good he was. Lots of hand movement to draw the eye away from the legs and the cigarette. Feeling as though he needed to maintain distance until he could confirm his instincts Keith twitched his lead arm, his left, at the elbow to feint a jab while lifting his left foot and moving forward. But after a few inches his left would stop and the sole of his shoe would be kicked hard into the front of Shamino's lead shin.

[Shamino Warhen Ph.D]

Moving the arm... Too slow to attempt an actual strike, and his brain can't bring up both arms to do seperate actions...

With that psychological knowledge in mind, and Shamino's eyes focused more on his opponents feet than his arms in the first place, Shamino was able to place his left leg back slightly into the dirt while his right raised viciously up and then down, stomping his foot in a diagonal fashion- for maximum efficiency, in case his opponent attempted to sway either which way with that foot. However, once the motion is forward, it is highly difficult to stop an arm, and both feet at the same time. Shamino kept his hands upwards as his right foot slammed down, hopefully into his opponent's foot to place it back down against the ground.

This was not to be painful- far from, to have his opponent's foot locked his own would be a good thing. Along with this swift movement, his right arm would shoot forward, with minimal effort thanks to its placement near his chest, and his elbow not being terribly bent, and would land a swift punch to his opponent's left arm, directly under the shoulder and right into his opponent's muscles to not deliver sharp, blinding pain- but swift, dull, constant pain that would last the duration of the fight.

[Keith Richards]

Keith made a quick mental slash over feinting as clearly his opponent wasn't susceptible to them, and went along his merry way. With his foot stomped down Keith found himself inside his opponents guard, the feint with his left stopped only about half a foot from his opponent's chest, with a foot over his toes.

With a grin Keith jerked his left fist outward and up at an angle, slicing a punch between the chest and guard, aiming his fist to the man's chin. His legs were already mostly straight so the normal spring from his knees wasn't behind the quick left uppercut, but for some reason Keith still seemed pleased with the opportunity.

This was actually not in his self interest, as a moment after his left jerked up into Shamino's chin a punch thumped into Keith's ribs, shoving a dull ache into his body from the strike. A pain would stay there throughout the fight, and likely until he took some pain killers and got a nights sleep.

But what would come of the uppercut? It was still moving, only mildly hindered from the sudden shot of pain, and would raise until the back of his fist was equal with the tip of his target's nose at full extension.

[Shamino Warhen Ph.D]

Uh, okay.

Shamino didn't mind that they were so close now, and he didn't mind that his opponent would attempt an upper cut while entirely ignoring the fist that was moving towards Keith's upper arm and shoulder, which was being executed far before the upper cut. The punch would now certainly land, thanks to Keith's inability to grab his arm thanks to the fist now being directed under Shamino's arm, and having to travel a distance further than what Shamino's fist already had.

With his fist most certainly slamming into Keith's arms and tricep muscles- never fun, and always a hard hitter when minimal fabric was in the way, Shamino's foot over his opponent's would coil around Keith's ankle and jerk back slightly, causing all of Keith's momentum to fall heavily onto Keith's right. With his left arm slammed into- naturally pushing him back, and Shamino's ankle tripping Keith's, Keith would take an automatic hard fall two ways- fall to the right, or fall back.

Regardless, after his ankle would attempt the quick and easy trip, easily backed up with his flawless jab to the arm, Shamino's left foot would come up inbetween Keith's legs, slamming his shin full force into his unprotected and unsecure testicles with moderate force. Already? I'm highly unimpressed.

[Keith Richards]

Keith took the punch to the arm without any apparent care for it having being struck, but the arm itself was jerked to a stop. Twisting his wrist toward his opponents face, and shoved his spread fingers at his opponents face and eyes, at the very least blocking any view even if the fingers didn't dig into the eye sockets.

The next step would happen at the same time, and make his hand appear to be moving all the faster for it, despite the pain that he would feel thanks to aggravating the impact zone. Even while Shamino was lifting his foot for the trip Keith shoved himself forward with his rear foot, throwing his weight forward into him.

With his hand in Shamino's face at the very least the elbow and forearm against Shamino would aid in the driving force. Having one foot off the ground, even for the small instant, would effect the lighter fighters balance as he was suddenly forced to balance only on his back foot while dealing with the shove to his upper body.

If the kick continued through this loss of balance it would likely only hit the inside of Keith's leg, although still a painful shock it wouldn't effect his walking or have him on his kenes either.

[Shamino Warhen Ph.D]

With Keith's hand under Shamino's arm, and stopping the arm that attempted to make the upper cut- and even according to Keith's body, had stopped the entire arm, the man then went for a vicious attack towards his face despite Shamino's fist pushing Keith back and out of left arm's reach. Had he of attempted with his right, he may of even succeded. But no, his left arm seemed to be used despite it's lack of use.

And Keith went the worst way possible in this situation- forward. Shamino's left arm was still up near his chest. Shamino's right foot wrenched free of Keith once he started moving forward, and firmly planted its self in the ground. With Shamino's right fist still against Keith's shoulder, his fist would become a palm and slide down to Keith's shoulder on the inside, Shamino then violently twisting their arms so that his arm looped around the inside while totally negating the scratch to the face, because the palm sliding down the arm would grip just above the forearm and hold their arms together in deadlock.With that, he'd jerk the arm forward, continuing Keith's voluntary weight shift forward. With that, the left palm of Shamino would plant it's self firmly forwards into Keith's highly unprotected nose, aided with Keith practically falling on the palm. The palm would have enough force- only thanks to Shamino's opponent and his lack of locking the left arm- to break his nose.

After planting the palm into the nose, his arm would quickly retreat several inches and plant it into his opponent's jaw, sending the head of Keith to snap backwards. Once again, his arm would withdraw, become a fist, and plant its self into Keith's diaphram, knocking all the wind out of him while Shamino's right arm squeezed Keith's violently, Shamino's triceps in the way of Keith's hand doing anything. With Keith's weight originally falling forwards, Keith's right arm would be useless, and the palm wouldn't be seen without it being far too late anyways.

So disappointing.

[Shamino Warhen Ph.D]

[Victoria Alexander]

Due to withdraw. Sham will be moving on.

Please move onto the next round.

Thank you.