(You post might actually require an edit. I know this is mostly my fault, but the beams of energy (and Herriman's magic in general) are comprised of raw, arcane energy. These energies are also what allows Herriman to change his body. These arcane beams don't burn flesh, they warp it. As in, they mutate the parts of the body they strike. Priroda wouldn't have a burned shoulder, she'd have a shoulder where the muscle and bones are twisted and half-melted together. Of course, Priroda's armor lessens the severity of this, but this is still the basic effect. She'd probably still be able to use the shoulder, but it'd cause her great pain to do so.)

Herriman shielded his body with his purposely malformed arm. The shards that went too low for his organic shield to catch were mostly deflected by his leg armor, with only a few actually embedding themselves into his leg. Compared to the pain he had felt before in his life, these were nothing, and by contorting the muscles around these shards, his own body pushed them out, and they clattered to the soft arena grass.

"I can smell you..." Herriman uttered, his voice carried on the wind like a wisp of smoke. From the singular hole in his helmet, five small tendrils slithered out, each of them sprouting a different kind of eye at the end. These would allow him to see further into the dust cloud than any normal human, and at many more angles.

"Come..." A different voice came, from no direction in particular. "Let me feel my structure against your maiden flesh...I thirst."

The voice was none other than Setrak itself, calling to Priroda.

(I still think the reaction is fittig actually. Haha!)

Enhancing your eyes sight in the cloud would prove to yeild very disturbing results. Upon hearing your taunt "I can smell you," priroda had swung the hanmer towards you with her uninjured arm. As always, the motion acted as a catalyst. From priroda out 100 ft in a 30 degree arc, with you in the dead centre of said arc, priroda converted all the earth into quick sand!

Having hopefully bought some time, priroda used her plant based magic to turn the grass below into a strange moss, which would take a moment or two. However, when the plant was ready, consuming it would hopefully return her shoulder to its original state, at the cost of an uneasy stomache for a few hours. Slowly the dust began to settle, and priroda had t rely entirely on the quick sand to buy her enough time to grow her moss. (2 turns lets say. For good sport.)

As the dust settled, and Sol caught eye of the deformation upon priroda's shoulder, a gasp escaped her lips. "kak vy mogli by eto sdelat'?" She shouted in protest, at the sight of what apeared to be SCALES upon her sister's shoulder.

Herriman tried to move out of the way of the coming magical attack, but the arc was so wide, he couldn't help but to be caught in it at the edge. He stopped dead in his tracks, and immediately, his weight started to slowly drag him down. Normally, he wouldn't be in such a rush, but it looked like Priroda was growing some type of plant that the beginning of the arc, so he couldn't exactly waste any time. Pushing himself to his limit, he was wreathed in an aura of blue fire which baked the quicksand around him to a solid enough state for him to pull out one of his legs. The eye tendrils retreated back into his helmet. Whether this was a glimpse of his true form or just another mutation would remain a mystery.

As he pulled out a leg, the fire jumped from his body to Setrak, and with a mighty bellow, he slung a crackling ball of that same warping energy towards Priroda, aiming at the ground towards her feet. Upon impact, it would explode, with a radius of about ten feet.

As Herriman escaped the quick sand trap, priroda swung her hammer vertically from a knelt possition, allowing her to keep concentration on her wounderful moss. The motion acted as a catalyst, and the earth responded by raising a short, 1 ft thick, 3 ft tall, 5 ft wide wall of sandstone directly between the combatants. Of coarse it was blown away it the blast of energy, but, it served the purpose of buying just a few more moment. Priroda looked pretty determined right now, and confident that he little plant would do the trick.

Sol was chewing her finger nails down to nubs in anticipation, for she could now see her sister, and the danger she was in. Priroda grinned up at her sister, and winked , as she took hold of her sickle, and stood, leaving the hammer over the moss, to continue growing, and channeling her magic. As she stood, she had roots entangle the hammer to keep it from moving until she got back.

It was obvious by now, that priroda needed a catalyst for earth magic. But, what about nature magic? Well, her oponent, still half trapped in quicksand would have to take a guess on that, for in a few moments, priroda would advance, with no bars held.

Herriman pulled his other foot out with relate ease, noting that Priroda was leaving behind her hammer and preparing to advance on him. He still had some of the sizzling energy around him, not yet having expended all of the energy from the spell. The remaining energy jumped to Setrak, and Herriman slowly walked out of the quicksand zone, eyeing priroda. It seemed the games were finally going to stop, and he'd be able to see just how powerful one of these twins were. It was the whole reason he'd challenged them individually, because it would be nigh suicidal to fight two foes at once whose power levels were a mystery to him.

The sickle was an interesting weapon indeed. With a style based on grappling and pulling your opponent, Herriman wondered how Priroda would even fathom she could drag him down. Still, it would seem that if there was any one specific time not to underestimate her, it would seem this was it. The small wink she gave to her sister gave Herriman something to think about. Was she about to use some kind of special technique, or a unique sickle fighting style?

Regardless, his shield arm wouldn't do him much good here, at least not in it's current state. With some sickening cracking and squelching noises, his shield arm returned to more or less the shape of an arm, except from the flesh (and the flesh on the rest of his body, as a matter of fact) sprouted hooks of chitinous material of random lengths and directions. The fingers on the ex-sheild arm's hand split off from each other, and Herriman ended up with a fleshy, five-tendriled whip of sorts at the end of that arm, covered in barbs and blades.

Raising his axe to the air, he charged at Priroda once more, except this time, he expected not to make it there, and prepared to phase shift again just in case.

Priroda returned the charge, and held the sickle before her face with her good arm. The run only lasted but a few sparce moments, but it felt like an eternity to her. Adrenaline was finally starting to hit her body, and the result was a state of hyper awareness. Priroda mentally noted the sweat on her brow, Im loosing wind fast. Gotta hurry!, and each loose pebble beneath her feet. Footin is unstable, i wont be able to rely on leverage to submit him. she also took note of the hooks, and how it made it neigh impossible to let her unarmoured areas touch you without reveiving a wound.

Priroda decided to let her brass armour worry about the hooks, and kept running. She ran not to her opponent, but just past him, ready to dodge any physical strike in the process, and taking in the possibility of you "Phazing" again. As she passed her foe on his right side, she quickly moved the for a short, choked, horizontal slash, aiming from right to left at eye level (upper chest area to you, due to size differences). At best the blade would graze him. The attack would overall seem feeble, and too risky to be worthwhile.

The sickle acted as a catalyst though, as did the hammer. A short 1 second delay after the swing, whilst priroda took stance (hopefully) behind her foe, a long, vinelike tendril burst from the earth, roughly 3 feet in front of priroda's malformed opponent. The vine angled up just enough to potentially strike the same area that the previous blade swing was aimed for. This vine was a light green with dark purple, quarter inch thick thorns that would, if contact was made, paralyze a foe with their toxic pores. Priroda of coarse had developed an immunity to these pores, due to working with them, but for anyone else with a pulse, or nervous system, they were extremely potent.

---

Sol chewed her nails nervously as she watched her sister, and prayed for the best. Her godess whispered to her softly to quell her fear. "Calm child, and be faithfull. Your sister fights not for the just balance of nature, but for you. It is not duty, nor responcibility that drives her now, but her undying love. And love is stronger than any weapon."

Unfortunately for Priroda, she played right into Herriman's plan. Sure, she might have faked him out a bit by sliding past him, but he was wheeled around to face her almost as quickly as she had passed passed him. It would appear that Herriman wasn't as slow as she thought.

And that wasn't the only thing. The hooks on herriman's flesh weren't there for her hands, since Priroda would have to have been a fool to even think about grappling him. No, the hooks were meant for her sickle. As soon as she tried to cut at his chest with that wide horizontal swing, Herriman slightly angled his chest, and that was that.

Catching on one of the chitinous hooks, Priroda's swing would never take place, and the spell would never happen, not to mention that her momentum would stop dead in its tracks, leaving her even more vulnerable. Giving her as little a chance to recover as possible, Herriman didn't hesitate to tighten his grip on Setrak, and thrust the hand holding it forwards knucke first, intent on landing a swift, brutal punch to the side of Priroda's face, followed by a straight kick to the gut if she was still standing after that.

If they connected, Herriman's blows would be more than enough (individually) to send Priroda to the ground, and could also severely injure her.

If, by any chance, his attacks did result with Priroda on the ground, Herriman would laugh, and glance up to one of the cameras. He was still for a moment, as if allowing Priroda time to recover from her blows, but he broke his silence. Motioning to Sol with his axe, he began to speak. "Run to your sister, earth warden. Fighting you is hardly sport. I will fight both of you.

The speed of her adversary caught priroda off guard, but did not stop her completely. Priroda was not just some weak little girl. Once her sick caught onto the hooks, priroda forced the swing past. She was in no way stronger than the man before her, but he was strong enough to ruin his footwork when allowed to apply unhindered force upon his chest.

Thus, the glancing blow turned into a grapple of sorts. Strong follow up, combined with stronger footwork allowed priroda to force her opponent to slide. With no stable footwork, the blows he delt upon her were merely glancing, and could not possibly bring priroda earthwards before bringing her advassary down as well. The hooks upon her opponents flesh drew blood across her face in a gash that would pottentially cause a problem as time passed (3 turns before blood loss effects priroda significantly.). Furthermore, the kick to the gut, with such close distance and poor fotwork could never build enough momentum to transfer force past priroda's bronzed armour. From priroda's viewpoint, the reward for the exchange was well worth while for priroda.

The follow up on the swing, though slower than the swing would have been traditionally, still acted as a successfull catalyst for the vine. Resultantly, the vine still sprung forth from the earth, as mentioned before, bearing its powerfull stingers. The vines aimed to wrap about the man's chest, starting right where the sickle was embedded in hooks. With the sickle stuck the way it was, priroda would maintane enough influence that evading the vines was nearly impossible.

Priroda was clearly struggling with the physically advanced adversarry. Already, her breath was comming in large fast passed breaths, that clawed the air before her. Priroda's shoulder was still injured, and she needed to make space to injest her moss before she had any chance of a long drawn physical fight with this man. Furthermore, she was covered, anywhere where armour wasnt, with abrassions both large and small, that began to cloud her mind with the stiging sensations of pain, and the numb sensation of bloodloss. Priroda was pushing her physical limits, and one single more significant blow would Cripple her, beyond battleworthiness at the least.

"eto stanovitsya vse trudneye ." ( this is becomming difficult.) She muttered under her breath, amidst her physical struggle. Her voice was shaky, and the words were mumbled past her grinding teeth. "mne nuzhno Sol!" (I need Sol). She was begining to see how clearly outmatched she was individually against her foe, and that unless proper teamwork came into play, she wouldnt last long against him. Small tears were creeping up at the edge of priroda's eyes.

Herriman supposed the situation could have been worse. It became instantly apparent to him that he had underestimated Priroda's own strength. In his defense, she really did look like a weak little girl. He knew that he would be one to speak, but he hated things like totally supernatural strength, mostly because you never saw it coming. Someone could be weedy and just over five feet tall, yet be able to lift boulders with a single arm.

However, the situation did favor him.

He had been anticipating some sort of magical attack for a while now, and when it came, he was prepared for it. When the vine erupted from the earth, Herriman released a sudden burst of raw energy, taking advantage that Priroda was trying to interdict his body motions and ruin his footwork by staying close to him and hanging onto her sickle. At the same time that he released the explosion of energy, he lashed out with his mutated whip-arm, intent on wrapping it around and sinking the fleshooks into her dreadfully exposed arm (the one holding the sickle) in a bid to keep her at the epicenter of the blast.

The burst of energy was a cacophonous explosion of technicolor lightning and screaming protoplasms from other dimensions, washing over everything within a ten foot radius. Rocks would warp and grow fleshy features, grass would twist and gain a mind of its own, and the vine summoned by Priroda was rendered into a cruel mockery of itself, a tentacle covered with spikes. Free from control, the vinetacle shrieked before dropping dead on the ground. Only the gods could know what would happen to Priroda

Priroda was not in the least prepared for a counter on such a scale. She attempted to gasp, but the sound was drowned into a chocked gurgle as the whiplike attack wrapped about her neck. A further gurgle escape her throat as she attempted a groan of pain, when her body was pulled ito the various hooks upon her opponents body. Now, even her good arm was injured, and pinned against the body of this hulking figure that she was expected to fight.

Piroda was then hit by the wave of energy that her foe had discharged, which instantly burnt, and deformed her body on her right side. Her leg muscles became sencless mulch, and her right arm began to bleed profously. Blood even sprayed upon her opponent. Priroda tried to use her injured left arm to beat the opponent away, but the result was merely a few light taps of her fist against his chest before she went limp from the blood loss, and finally succombed (is that the right word?) to her injuries. Her swollen face fell limp, and her now half haired head stopped shaking, as did the rest of her flailing body.

Sol meanwhile froze in terror from her possition and her skin lost all her color. She knew how this whole messed up system worked, and that her sister would be back, but watching her die, much less in such a putrid fashion, was too much. She broke her pause to collapse onto her hands and kneese, and puke. Her stomache heaved her lunch onto the battlefield, and her lungs frantically fought for air, in a hyperventillated state. She accidetally breathed in vomit, and was thrown into a tear filled fit of coughs, gasping, and vommiting. She nearly knocked herself out, simply from watching this man fight. The last thing upon her mind was trying to fight him herself.

Every muscle in her body wanted to stay far away from this man, and never ever come back here. But, his very existance challenged the laws of the natural world, and furthermore, she had a sister to avenge! So, after several minuts, Sol slowly rose to a stand, and wiped her face clean on the skin of the back of her hand. Then she flicked her hand clean, and tried to get her act together. Eventually, she fixed her hair, and faced the man who had so cruelly dispossed of her sister. There was a look upon her face, not of hatred, but of determination. She felt obligated to avenge priroda, preserve the balance of nature. She still felt to queezy to speak though. Besides, she wasnt as cocky as her sister.

"YA dumayu, chto ya v sleduyushchiy raz" (i believe i am up next) she mumbled to herself, trying to seem as brave as Priroda.

For a few moments after the explosion, Herriman stood there, breathing heavily with Priroda's lifeless, still mutating body pressed to his chest. It was a bit of a moment of solidarity, him and this corpse, but after a few seconds, he discarded Priroda to the side, like a broken toy. Taking the sickle out of the hook in his chest, he tossed it onto Priroda's corpse before it was called up into the heavens. His body formed back into its usual shape, and he turned his head to Sol. He didn't want to show it, but he was tired, drained from that attack.

He stood there, confident as ever, and addressed Sol. "You are free to surrender, girl. Killing you will hardly be sport." He said, pointing an axe at her.

Mifune stood and called to the remaining girl "You should surrender you cant win that fight alone. Just concede the match and let me deal with this ABOMINATION of a creature.

So looked bac and forth between the two for a moment, and panic set in. She didnt know what to do. Luckily, amungst her train wreck of thoughts, er godess whispered to her. She relaxed, after what she heard, and looked back up. With a few scraps of her dignity left, she bowed, and took a step back, receeding to the waiting area, so that the more fit combatants might take the field.

"moy boginya govoril so mnoy." (I have spoken to my godess.) she started. "она говорит, что нет хомут в знак капитуляции . перед вами на все показали свою преданность" (too lon to translate.) and then alas, she stepped off the arena.

"So, you've waited for a girl to soften me up for you?! Some honorable samurai you are!" Herriman called out, managing to elicit some boos and jeers aimed at Mifune from the crowd. "Nevertheless, I accept your challenge. But first, I must commune with my god." He said, and Setrak disappeared from Herriman's hand as he sat down among the twisted and mutated vegetation. Placing his hands on the half-fleshy dirt, he took a handful of it, drawing a 'B' shape (except the 'B' had no curves, just sharp angles) on the front of his helmet. The shape (a rune of sorts) started glowing a dull purple, and a red haze started to rise from Herriman's shoulders.

The jeering from the crowd immediately stopped as Mifune slowly turned his gaze upon them. Picking up his masamune katana he dropped into the arena below him. Waiting for the beast to finish communicating with its god Mifune looked to the sky. "Yeah yeah I know its not my fight. Why? Because he just mutilated a defenseless girls corpse, he has no honor and doesn't deserve to live. Oh? Very well it shall be done my love" Mifune spoke as if talking to another person there. He placed a hand upon the hilt of his katana and waited for Herriman to rise "Any time your ready now" Mifune said coldly.

"Hmph. At first, I thought it the metaphorical way, but it appears you actually are blind." Herriman started, drawing a couple symbols on the ground.

"She was far from defenseless or helpless. If it weren't for my quick thinking, she would've had me. Also, mutilating her corpse? Well, if you consider dropping her body and returning her weapon to her so she could be resurrected with it mutilating, I'd hate to see what you consider vulgar. Seriously, do you even know what magic is?" He continued, finishing off his communion by rubbing off the symbol on his helmet.

He stood up, more or less replenished, as his free arm cracked and thickened into some kind of armored pincer, and small red eyes pustuled out all over his body like tumors. "I'll be sure to hold up your head nice and plain so your bitch goddess can take a good look at it. Come to your death, samurai!"

"That remark should be rethought arrogant one." was all Mifune said walking very calmly towards Herriman. Walking calmly Mifune took almost slow steps as he Advanced on Herriman. "Do you think that many eyes will allow you to see my movements?" Mifune asked the man as he kicked the ground sending sand up towards the mans chest and head. If the sand hit the eyes it was sure to cause irritation and blind them. Even as he did this Mifune was on his guard and had his hand on the hilt of his katana.

"Well, it is said that no human eye can track your movements. I'm no human, and these eyes come from a beast much faster than you." Herriman replied. "Perhaps you shouldn't call others arrogant while you boast about your pitiful speed."

Herriman was confident, having asked The Raven God to bless him with the rune of swiftness before this battle started.

Then came the dirt.

With sudden and brutal rebuttal, Herriman lashed out with his pincer arm, which had been building up tension in order to spring forwards like some kind of tendoned ballista. Herriman wasn't a fool, having this many eyes was definitely a vulnerabilty, which was why when the dirt hit them, it just seemed to glance off like the eyes were covered in some sort of protective field. Being part of his body, the eyes got the armor-like protection of the beast pelt around his shoulder, thus rendering the old "sand in the eyes" trick utterly useless, and a complete waste of motion on Mifune's part.

Before Mifune's leg was even back on the ground, Herriman's claw came screaming towards him with incredible speeds rivaling Mifune's, coming at an angle where even if he were to attempt to quick-draw block it with his katana, the parry would be awkward at best. At the same time that he made this attack with his claw, Herriman thrust his head forwards, a jet of blue and pink fire shooting straight ahead towards Mifune's legs.

The man was fast, which was to be expected, Mifune wasn't a fool. As the attack came mifune was read for it, his leg had barely lifted from the kick and the man had left himself incredibly vulnerable. Pivoting around both the flames and the outside of the man's claw mifune now stood on his opponents right with his katana in perfect position. Maybe the magic would protect against sand, but not against his diamondlike katana being drawn at full speed across the mans right ribs as he raced past him, where he would then continue moving out of Herriman's range. This man wasn't like the boy and Mifune was already working on a strategy for the counter attack.

Sol was watching the battle on the TV's, nervously chewing her fingernails, and hoping that the fight didnt end too badly for either party. Her sister Priroda stood next to her, locking pinkies with her sister. Priroda was silently rooting for herriman. She hoped to meet him on the battlefield again in the future. A smirk played upon her face, as she watched the fight unfold.

Priroda even took her sister to the stands to see the fight in person. Both men had been victorious in their battles, and that labeled them as champions worth watching in Priroda's book. Sol could hardly watch, and for most of the fight burried her face in her Sister's light jacket. "dont a îndrăznești liber !" (dont you dare loose!) she shouted to herriman eagerly.