Match 1! Dracomon vs Coronamon!

I welcome you all to the very first DigimonEvolution battle royal tournament!

On this wonderful blue skied day, we have Dracomon vs Coronamon in the city square!

I ask that you all take your seats as the two tamers approach and shake hands and make their introductory posts before the battle begins!

Coronamon walked out into the city square, his mind calmed and focused. The light layer of dust hid the cobblestone ground faintly. The sun had set and the crowd seemed pumped for the battle. His green eyes searched through the crowd to see where his partners were. After taking brutal missions pushing them to their limits back to back, he hoped this friendly competition would help ease their exhaustion. Unlike most who relaxed from getting away from battle, they relaxed by watching and learning more from it. He waited for his opponent to arrive, fire blazing from his head.

Dracomon nodded to his Tamer, and then set off towards the arena with a slow, paced walk. After two weeks of rest after a dangerous mission - in which a giant block of concrete fell 15 metres, narrowly missing his Tamer - he was ready to get back to action. Some people called it a friendly for the real tournament ahead, but he didn't think so.

Silently he gazed around the square. It wasn't large; it was much more like a cutout of a medieval city intersection. He wasn't totally familiar with the buildings, but he did seem to remember seeing perhaps one of them before elsewhere; a miniature black tower, like a citadel of a black empire from the days of old, its archer-windows gazing down upon the people and the Digimon below, casting its stern yet baleful shadow across the aged pavement. A crumbling pair of stones, set equally apart in the road shortly caught his eye, before he inhaled and put his focus back on the battle at hand. No more distractions for him. He set himself in-stance and prepped his mind. Tonight would be a good fight indeed.

You have met our contestants!

I want a clean battle. I will be monitoring the battle from the sideline. Be sure to read the rules and guidelines and more about the arena you are in.

Let the battle commence!

Coronamon saw his opponent look around the arena, then glanced at the black tower. He guessed he was absorbing the geography of the arena and planning how to use it to his advantage. He wondered if his opponent was nervous at all in fighting his leader or by fighting with such a large crowd. "Lets have a good match." Coronamon said to him, offering a gesture of good faith and what not. He then started off the match, "Corona Flame!", He fired a focused blast of fire at his foe, trying to get a fell of how well he fights.

He barely missed the incoming fireball. It left a hint of soot on a few of his scales - and then, with the distraction, he ran. Not towards the citadel, but towards another, stouter building - what looked like a shingled, multistory manor, like one that would've belonged to nobility of the day. Its roof slanted oddly - its higher edge faced the citadel, and there were a pair of railings on the roof. He jumped through a window - not bothering with doors, they would just slow him down - and scrambled up to find higher ground.

"High ground or looking for a place with lots of things in the way. Clever." Coronamon said as he watched his foe run into a manor. Coronamon focused his flames and aimed at the Manor windows. He sent a blast at every window he could hit, the fire blasting through them. He also began to look for a place where he could lure his foe into, hopefully a place with lots to burn. "You'll have to do better than that."

Dracomon looked around. The house was risky at best; there were, after all, bits of wood burning around on the first floor. But...

From the fourth floor, he looked around. There weren't too many buildings around to begin with; and most of them were burnable. Yet again, the stone citadel drew his attention. The narrow street ahead would expose him for a good six and seven twentieths of a second. That, put in easier terms, meant a 72.3% plus or minus 3.0% error of being discovered, and from that, a 16.8% plus or minus 4.0% error of being hit. The odds were...fair enough. But troubling indeed. Fortunately, being one born of fire he wasn't as vulnerable to fire itself, but he still had to use caution. There had to be some good stock of water somewhere - and alcohol would be a suicidal idea, unless he actually had enough time to make a distiller and distill every single bottle of alcohol he could find. That was a silly prospect. The only sources of water might be rain, storage, and perhaps the off chance of there being a well in the keep somewhere. He severely doubted all of these options. That gave him little chance to do anything. The next thing in line - was that something exploding down there? - would be smothering. But that most likely wasn't going to happen, unless he managed to trap Coronamon in some fireproof blanket or in a small room with few cracks to allow fresh air. That would put out the fire, albeit take longer time to finish.

He was right. Something WAS exploding - windows. He recognized that sound. Classic. But he was on the other side of the building. Not this time. Though he had to make a break for it - Coronamon was bound to step around the corner and see him. THAT would be brutal indeed. What else was there - lovely, another explosion - besides water and oxygen depletion. His mind raced. Coldness. Well, that was out of the question, unless there, for some reason, happened to be liquid hydrogen, helium, oxygen, or nitrogen around. Wait, no, the liquid hydrogen would EXPLOSION - what timing - so that was kinda pointless. He stopped thinking and dashed out the window, making a wild break for the citadel doors. More planning could come later.

Coronamon quickly pulled down his sunglasses after hearing explosions coming from the manor. "Looks like I over did it a bit. Oh well, he didn't coming running out, so either he escaped or is waiting to ambush me inside." He listened to the crowd cheering wildly at all the explosions, he smirked as they loved watching him being destructive. He then began to wonder if his foe planned to tire him out by forcing him chase him all over the battle arena. He then smirked once more, "Two can play at this game." With that, he ran to the dark tower, planning on either flushing or drawing his foe out, one way or the other.

Dracomon sighed in relief. He looked around. Something to bar the door... How useless. Nothing. Irritated, he continued to flee. In a change of tactic he headed DOWN a level instead of up - because city keeps and citadels were designed circularly. There was always a way out. Unless you were foolish enough to head into a wine cellar; that was the only place that was a dead end. Stupid wine cellars. Always so pointless.

He looked around. Nothing to help him here - but he needed something desperately. He headed straight ahead, and through an arched passageway. He looked around; that caught his interest. The armoury. But damn it all! The iron gate was locked. The other end was perhaps just as shut. He wanted to save his energy without having to waste time picking up a heavy weapon. Nothing of interest there then. Cursing his bad luck over and over in his head - he seemed to get all of the killer missions anyways - he shot off in a general west direction towards the southwest corner, approaching an archer's tower.

Coronamon passed a old dusty blanket on his way to the tower, he picked it up and brushed it off, taking it with him. As he ran to the tower, he ducked between the shadows of building after building, covering himself with the cloak. As he reached the tower, he began his climb to the top. Going inside and walking up the stair case, taking his time and plotting out how to attack.

Woah! What an intense starter folks! Already an explosion!

So far the stats for each Digimon remain at:

Coronamon
Health - 100%
Penalty Points - 0
Evolutions - Untapped

Dracomon
Health - 100%
Penalty Points - 0
Evolutions - Untapped.

Let's see some more battling!

Unbeknownst to each other, they were on opposite ends of the keep. Dracomon quickly arrived at the top, 25 metres in the air. He walked into what seemed like a fancy bedroom. Now he could think clearly. He sat on the bed and analyzed the data. First of all, he was at a disadvantage. Nothing elemental. But it was because Coronamon was his superior; though both had seen each other fight, Coronamon had much more opportunities to do so.

Second of all, it would be mightily difficult to exploit Coronamon's weakness. The most efficient way to do it would be to somehow trap him, keep him under control, then dump him into a well. But that required far too much planning and far too many materials, most of which he doubted were available. So a trap and a well were eliminated. But traps - not entirely. Wells were a much less likelier opportunity.

Thirdly, he had his own weakness. He was vulernable, as he only had two ranged attacks, one of which was weak...and the other one might be powerful but it was hard to aim. Truly, he'd have to have the element of surprise here, and keep Coronamon in a sense of frantic nervousness.

Fourthly, the situation at hand. Leverage meant nothing when dealing with fire. Fire fails to discriminate between friend and enemy, so therefore the quicker he ended the battle, the better. The only .... wait.

A sense of frantic nervousness.

That just might work. Use scare tactics. Set up little traps not designed to hurt him directly, but to scare him.
Something completely opposite to what he normally battled like.

He grinned. It just might work. He set himself to building the first one.

Coronamon reached a kitchen area in the tower, stopping inside to munch on anything he could find. He found a patch of freshly baked cookies and looked to find Milk in the refrigerator. He happily enjoyed the snack while glancing around for stuff he could use. He fashioned the less dusty blanket he found into a proper cloak, leaving the room.

As he continued his climb to the top of the tower, he found a broken chain in a pile of old and rusted over weapons. Aside from the chain, it was nearly impossible to tell where one weapon ended and another began, due to how baldy the rust damage was. He sighed a bit and kept on moving, as he reached the top he gained a bird's eye view of the battle arena.

"This is boring, if he's gonna try setting up traps, it's pointless. I won't chase after him to fall for them. It's clear he's nervous about this battle. I have more experience and skill, thus have an edge combat wise, direct combat anyway." Coronamon caught a pair of fingerless gloves and a children's book on colors on a table next to him. He put on the gloves and began to read the book, still talking to himself.

"Eventually either the crowd will get mad at his stalling and pressure the ref to judge the match or he'll try to do something desperate to keep me off guard. This match so far is disappointing." With that, he tried to enjoy the simple book, "Hmm, I never noticed the difference between scarlet and firewood red before. I hope I'm not some sort of color blind. Oh wait, I just saw the difference. Nevermind, false alarm."

He looked out across the top of the towers. Fog silhouetted halfway through the city, clouding the rest of the arena. Which, of course, didn't help. He sighed, pacing around in his spot. This wasn't good; each elapsing second meant another chance his opponent would find something useful and gain the advantage. What to do now...

Screw it.

He ran across the top of the city wall, where swordsmen would normally be posted to knock off intruders on ladders. No tell-tale floating fire on the head of something. Which didn't help. He growled. Now he was pissed. Not only did running fail to help, it was annoying him to no end!

He was tempted to draw out Coronamon by trying to roar as loud as possible. But that would be foolish.

Then he was tempted to digivolve and fly above the city, to see where he might be. But if he was in a building, that would be kinda pointless.

Horrifically pointless. But informative!

No. He didn't. That would be a waste of energy for SURE. Berating himself for not thinking logically, he tried to collect his senses again. Most likely they had run off to opposite ends of the arena - when one opponent runs, the other goes the opposite direction, in hopes of picking up an advantage. Now that there was a 65% chance (give or take 2%) that this had occured, it was relatively good odds that they were on opposite ends of the city. Pictorally, he did remember seeing some kind of spire before he bolted for it. It was likely Coronamon was in there as well, perhaps doing the same as he. Hopefully hadn't picked up anything useful.

Cursing under his breath, he resigned himself to a sullen and silent sweep of the main road, the black twisting spire looming in the distance, the only thing he could see in the fog ahead.

Coronamon looked through the window and saw from the corner of his eye Dracomon running on the main road toward the tower. He held his chain tightly and adjusted his sunglasses and blanket cloak with his free hand. He blocked the entrance to the room he was in with a bookcase next to it. The room was an enclosed space with little maneuverability for big digimon. This meant that Dracomon would have to fight as he was in order to have any shot of coming close to Coronamon.

Dracomon stopped and sniffed the air. Something...no. He ignored it. Probably a red herring. He investigated a neighbouring house, but to his dissatisfaction, nothing. He did find, though, something to keep him going: a few slices of bread and cheese. Lowly fare, but it would be necessary. As he paced, scattering crumbs all over the floor, he considered his disadvantage. The tower was most certainly going to be well-made; much more like a monastery or church, and if that was the case, then there would be numerous heavy things. Therefore a lot of the entrances could've had objects set in front of them in order to block him entry. In fact, if the main door hadn't been already so barred he would be mightily surprised.

Finished his snack, he set out again. If there were going to be any traps or ambushes, it would be through the main door - or were they?

No. Because Coronamon would've predicted him to think that - and so go around a back door, which could then in itself be trapped. So no.

He pushed on the large wooden doors. They swung open on oiled hinges.

He had come.

Coronamon looked around the room and found a closet full of oddly colored articles of clothing. He pondered a bit as to who would wear such things, then stopped after he remembered these were left in an arena for combat. He threw each piece of clothing all around the floor, finding bedsheets and covering up two chairs with them. He then stood where the bookcase he moved used to be. As soon as Dracomon came in, he likely attack the chairs or look around. In either case he would be greeted with a "Corona Knuckle".

Dracomon advanced slowly, sweeping his gaze left and right to check for ajar doors and possible traps. He detected none, which was to be expected. He eventually reached what might just be the final flight of stairs, leading into a long hallway. Just a few doors dotted the walls, with a grand set of doors at the end. He gently pushed on the first one to his left. It gave way. Nothing.

He repeated this a few times before coming to one door short of the grand room. That didn't budge. So now he knew. But...he wondered. How thick were these walls? And what were they made of? He set off to another room to investigate.

As if the whole thing were rigged against him, the walls were solid. And fresh. He hadn't seen a single crack at all in the stonework and marble. He considered it punishment for his folly, berating himself over and over again, cursing and mumbling to himself. There had to be something...something...he looked around. Up on the wall. What was...

He suddenly stared at the desk. A lantern. An old school lantern. One that you put oil and other flammable materials inside, and then lit. He realized it.

Fire was the key. And what did the below-ground have, where there were no windows?

Torches. Lots of torches. He smiled.

Fighting fire with fire. He ran down, ecstatic, his previous burdens forgotten.

Coronamon looked through the closet and found a grappling hook. He honestly was just ready to just break through the window and pretend he was a superhero at this point. He left from his position and debated rather or not to actually go through with his desire. He certainly wasn't going to be getting any sort of enjoyable fight anytime soon.

Dracomon raced back upstairs, lit torch in hand, trying desperately to get back to the room as quickly as possible. As he neared the top, he grabbed a lantern and spilled its oil in front of the door, then dropped the torch and stood back, entranced by the dancing flames. They caught his attention for a while, distracting him from thought. He shook his head and then resumed his reasoning. If the entrance was blocked by flame, the only feasible exit would be through the window or some hidden compartment - and likely that hidden little hole led back to the ground. From that, he could deduce the most logical step for Coronamon to take, which would be to flee through the window.

He dashed as fast as he could down the stairs.

Coronamon smelt fire from behind the entrance to the room. He sighed as followed his logic, trying to smoke him out the room. He opened the window, and used the grapple to reach the top of the building. He sighed once again, even the audience seemed to be waiting for some action. So far only a burning manor and now fire outside of a room has been notable. Coronamon frowned as he bet Dracomon had another complex plot involving him going in the opposite direction.

"This isn't a fight, this is the more fiery and boring version of chess." Coronamon said out-loud as he used the grapple to swing to the next building nearby.

Dracomon reached the ground - only to see the hook on the other side of the street being retracted. He cursed his luck and dashed inside. He would not be denied this time.

He was done playing games.

Coronamon stood on the flat surfaced roof. Aside from the door that allowed others to reach it, there was nothing. A pure and simple place for combat. Coronamon prepared to greet Dracomon with a "Holy Shot" attack. "Lets see what you got, now that you have nothing to hide behind."

Coronamon adjusted his sunglasses and let his cloak blow throw the wind. The crowd sat on edge, waiting for the battle to begin.

Dracomon hurried up the stairs, his heart pounding in sync with his head. He left gouge marks in a wall where he had grabbed the corner to turn himself properly without skidding along the shorthair carpet, then accelerated forwards towards the ceiling stairs, ignorant of the trap he was about to run into.