You Think You Can Beat Me? [Group.Closed.Louis von Herrmann]

Pride. Just that one little word was all that one needed in order to sum up the essence of the 5th espada, Louis. There was not one thing about himself that he did not love. His pale and pretty yet hard as stone skin, his gorgeous features, and his physical prowess.... all these things and more just served to reassure Louis of his magnificence. But you see, it was not merely that he loved himself just because it was him. He loved himself only because he thought himself worthy of it. Louis loved all things that were powerful, beautiful, and charismatic, for these traits were the only thing worthy of praise from Louis. One thing that Louis loved about himself was that he was magnificent in the art of hand to hand fighting. Louis had trained himself to the point that he considered himself the strongest hand fighter out of all the espada. So, when he passed by an arrancar in a corridor that was talking excitably about how the Primera was the greatest martial artist, Louis had stopped, turned around and after a few second had the arrancar tell him where he could find the Primera. Now, Louis strolled through the halls, his back straight as he dragged with him a moaning, quivering mass in his left hand, ignoring the arrancarrs apologizes while he crossed the halls.

“Please, Herrmann-sama, I meant no offence by my comments please forgive me I won’t ever say it again I swear just please let me live I promise I won’t ever say such things please.” Louis tuned out the pitiful cries of this pathetic excuse for an arrancar, as he had far too much to concern himself with than the pitiful excuses of this weakling. No, the only thoughts he had was towards this “Drunken God”. If he was truly as good as they said he was, he would make for a good opponent at least, thought Louis. And if he is not…. Well, then Louis had nothing to fear at all from him. Louis smiled to himself at this thought, reaching the end of the hallway. “Right or left?” Louis asked the whimpering arrancar.”Please sir I made a mistake I’ll never say it again I swear-” “I ask you a simple question,” Louis said, his husky voice deep with contempt as he raised the arrancar to eye level, “Right… or left.” “… Left, Herrmann-sama. ” “Good boy. You are useful after all. ” Louis said as he reach the quarters of Luto. “R-really sir?” “Yes, in fact you have another job I want you to do, and then I will let you go.” “A-anything, sir.” “Good, ” said Louis as he flung the sorry waste of space through the doorway, “You can serve as a doorbell. ” Louis straighten his collar as he walked forward, masked by the smoke flowed out of the room. “Am I in the quarters of Luto, the so called “drunken god”? If so, allow me to extend this challenge. I am Louis von Herrmann, 5th of the espada. Lets see if you live up to your name hmmm?”


Word count: 521

Gp: 10

There was a little arrancar flying through the doors of the espada, "What is this?" he inquired. Soon enough another arrancar strutted himself into the Primera's quarters, must have been the reason that the flying arrancar was on his ass when he came in. Forcibly introducing himself to whom he called "the Drunken God." Luto had no idea that it was going to catch on, funny. Getting up from his comfortable chair all the way in the corner of this big empty, white room, he chugged the rest of his ale and tossed the cigar onto the floor. He strode over to the fellow espada and paced in front of him. Stopping and staring into the furious eyes of the Quinto espada. "Louis von Herrmann, you were just the fellow I was looking for." Smirking in front of the other, "I was looking for some fun. You call out for the Drunken God, Luto, and challenge him. Now I won't tell you who I am." Flipping the black hair out of his gorgeous green eyes, "So I'll let my fists do the talking."

Sinking his rough hands into the pockets on his black, tight, comfortable pants, and once again twitching his head to flip his hair out of his eyes. "Here are the rules." Walking up into the face of Louis, "Hand to hand only, and we need some type of repercussion... I'll let you pick that up Mr.Quinto. Now follow me." Tapping the Quinto on the shoulder and pointing to another plain white wall, this one had nothing near it, completely empty. Luto lazily showed Louis the white wall and looked it up and down. It was hard to tell what was important with this wall, but with a hard push from his toes, there was a small shadow forming on the wall. The wall bent like it was made of a thin material, however it was strong enough to bend, not break. Sticking his finger above the shadow, it sunk into the thin wall. The area above the shadow was a button. With the button activated, a section of the wall next to the button fell into the floor.

The odd thing about this large box was, from the outside of the box, it was a perfect cube, on the inside it was a rectangular prism, and this was why. The wall fell and led to a dark, red and brown area. "Follow me." he informed Louis. He stepped into the entrance the fallen wall created. On the inside, the walls were brown with red splatted to make it seem like it was bloody. Hanging from the ceiling were chains for no other reason than to be there other than to look menacing. On the walls were many different weapons, some fake, some real. They were all supposed to be used for training purposes, and in the center, was a large boxing arena. Jumping from his spot, Luto landed in the center of the boxing arena and invited Louis, "Come here, this is the arena. No boxing gloves or protection though, you me, and our power." Chuckling at his statement, oddly enough it was not a joke, "Have you thought of a repercussion yet? If so spout your nonsense and we will begin."

Words - 546 - 10 GP [18]

Louis had to admit that the appearance of the primera was not quite what he imagined. He was a tiny little fellow; Louis could have picked up the little guy and turned him into a pretzel if he really felt like it. However, his piercing green eyes spoke for the Primera’s abilities more than anything else. Louis knew all too well that size in a fight was not always the deciding factor, because although reach was always important, a great amount of other factors could easily come into play. As the saying goes, “The bigger they are, the harder they fall.” But the eyes, now that was different. Eyes, to an keen observer, truly were windows into the soul, showing everything that was need to tell a person about another. And the eyes of the primera spoke of a firm faith and pride in his own abilities, to the point of arrogance. The odd thing about this thought was that Louis, when talking about how arrogant he was in his head, meant the comment as a compliment. The way Louis saw it, bragging isn’t really bragging if you can back it up. And, despite this person’s appearance and his obvious addiction to mind warping pleasure, Louis could see that the talent this person possessed was nothing to sneeze at. Louis admired that in a person, no matter who there were. He looked on, a little amused as Luto walked towards him, obviously intending to make Louis nervous by stepping beyond the normal little barriers people put around themselves, where if someone passes past a certain physical boundary, they get fidgety. Louis merely looked on, a bemused smile on his face as Luto talked.
"Here are the rules." he said, stepping even closer, getting right in Louis’s face, obviously having practiced this little routine with a mirror. "Hand to hand only, and we need some type of repercussion... I'll let you pick that up Mr.Quinto. Now follow me." After saying his, he reached out, slightly having to lift his feet as he did, and tapped Louis on the shoulder and pointed to a little wall. Louis followed Luto to this wall, as obviously he had something here that had to do with hand to hand fighting. After fiddling with his little wall, Luto pressed a button, and reveled to Louis that he had far more room than he had originally expected. Louis had to admit, the place was perfect for what he and the Primera had in mind, and in fact was so engrossed in what he was looking at that he missed all but the last thing the Primera said, something about no gloves or some silly shit that Louis never used anyway. “Yes, that’s fine, I don’t fight with gloves anyway,” Louis said, stripping off the upper part of his arrancar uniform, displaying his lean yet exceedingly muscled frame for his opponent. Jumping into the ring, Louis immediately began to stretch, calling out to the Primera as he did so. “Obviously, the Loser has to admit he lost, and that the winner is better. what more could you ask for as a prize? Now are you going to stand there all day, or get up and show me what you got? ” Louis shook his arms out, bouncing from one foot to the other as he grinned over at Luto. Louis wondered for a brief moment just what kind of style his opponent used, and how it would fare against his own style of hand to hand fighting…

Words: 592
GP: 12 (Rounded) total 22

While he waited for a response, Luto stood waiting patiently, tapping his foot to a random beat in his head. However, Louis was not thinking, he was looking at the Primera, describing Luto in his own head. Luto took this time to get a picture of Louis in his head as well. The Quinto's skin was very pale, opposed to Luto's tanner, peach colored skin, his was almost a silver color, with the brighter white hair running down his face. Through the hair were his purple eyes, which just by a look, he could tell what the fellow espada was feeling. A wall of hope, an impregnable wall of confidence blocking Luto's sarcasm and fearful prowess. This wall was shimmering with glee, flying with content. He was a fighter that was for sure, this made the Primera happy, someone who was always up for a friendly fight was a good friend to have around indeed.

Leading him into the room, he finally released the proposition. To which Luto responded, "That sounds... interesting. To say the least." He paused, ending his statement with a smirk on his face, "But let's make it a little more interesting. The loser must be willing to serve under the winner's command." He finished with a bigger smile on his face, overconfident some might say, but he was very powerful, none to be underestimated. Crossing his arms, he stepped onto the extremely large arena facing his opponent. Moments later, Louis challenged him to start. With a scoff, they locked eyes and Luto barely shifted his body.

In a flash, however not with a sonido, Luto moved in for the attack. The starting blow left the match exciting, this was the introduction, the beginning credits, the prologue. This fight may take awhile, the climax will come though, oh it will come. He held his off hand across half of his chest on the way to strike. Once he had gotten close enough, Luto sent a punch to Louis' head. This was to catch Louis off guard, fore the Primera purposely missed and sidestepped around him. While behind Louis, Luto went to dig his elbow into the small of his back while Louis was off guard. This was not the max, nor the middle of Luto's power, he was fighting at a mere intermediate level. He enjoyed a good fight, but masked his abilities as well as he could, trying to have a second level of surprise. One with his actual fighting style, and the other masking his fighting capabilities.

Words - 422 - 8 GP [26]

As soon as Luto set the new condition, Louis knew he faced the kind of opponent that was never to be underestimated. The kind of person that has enough confidence in himself that the word "Risk" has no meaning to him. Not only that though. The condition itself, serving the other if one lost, showed a lot of insight into the man before him. This guy was good, and he was also a the type to want to be in charge. He liked power, which Louis could hardly fault him for, as Louis was the very same, and probably even more of an addict to the sensual seduction of power. As Luto stepped forward, landing on the mat, Louis locked eyes with Luto, and then, like always before a fight, everything else fades away, both opponents completely focused. Before he did away with unnecessary thoughts, Louis was reminded of an old phrase that he heard a long time, and looking down at the smaller man, felt it appropriate to think about. "When a good tall fighter fights a good small fighter... the taller fighter always wins."
Words: 182

In an mere second, Luto made the first move. Louis could have easily moved to the sides or backwards to take advantage of his height, but Louis decided not to take the easy route at first. Instead, he jerked his head to the right , but Luto missed, enough to make Louis just a bit suspicious. Louis was proven right as Luto slammed an elbow into his back, but Louis had already seen through that. As Luto made contact, Louis relaxed his body and allowed the blow to propel him forward, seeming to stumble away from his oppoenet and allowing him to get just out of reach of the Primera. as this happened, Louis turned his head around, stiffened his body, stamped his left foot to the ground and sent a backwards mule kick straight into lutos chest, using his height advatege to put distance between the two of them. Now, Louis had a certain mindset about fighting. He had a little mantra that he spoke to himself. Dont ever try and simply punch the target. Punch Through the target. Kick Through the target. That is the way one should fight the same applies for his kicks. They never pushed an opponent away, they hit. Hard. Lets see how you react to this, Mr. Primera. Thought Louis with a of excited glee, wondering as he turned around and resumed a guarding postion, just how his oppoenent would react. Louis stood ready, his fists ready to fly out at any sign of a counter attack, and he waited for his oppoenets next move.
words: 260


Total words: 442
GP: 8

Stamina: 49:50