A DAM SET TO BURST [Open]

A dam could only hold back so much water, so much weight, before it's structure was compromised. The tidal wave it held back would eventually descend upon the unsuspecting valley leaving in it's wake untold destruction. It was only appropriate such a description be applied to Solhammond Palliser's state of mind. It was true that his growth was remarkable, that the man had found some measure of himself in the after life. That the tribe he stayed with had truly helped him discover something about himself, and that was he was still defining who exactly he was.

But even with that growth, as he walked the lantern lit streets of the Rukongai, he felt a growing sense of frustration and anger. This undirected rage seemed to be brewing deep within the chest of the spirit, and that was never a good thing. Even now he barely understood why he chose to walk among the seedier parts of the Rukongai. Well that was a half-lie. Some part of him was looking for a fight, looking for the chance to unleash the pent up anger like a steam release. The soft-features of the man seemed to hold within them some tension, some displeasure which didn't fit his face at all.

He'd find a fight, or make one. He couldn't face down Chidori right now. He couldn't stand to face that bitch. His mind plagued with thoughts which he had not thought himself capable of thinking. The words of Yugiri still fresh in his mind. He couldn't delude himself into thinking it was Rio, or any number of whatever siblings she had. That noble whore seemed to think it fitting to indulge with some random broad. Like everything he was trying to do, like everything he was trying to be for their kids- wasn't good enough.

He had doubted himself when he left her, he thought it was be a brief pause. To find himself, to come back to her better then he had been. But if this was what she wanted, if this was the path she so desired, then he didn't care. As anger seemed to flood the young man's mind, his tattoo'd hands curling into white knuckle fists as he walked, his shoulder smashed into someone. Already he turned to face them ready to spit some retort, ready to aggravate the situation without care for who or what they where.

Anger had a way of clouding someone's mind. And he was but a second from exploding.

The instincts had a way of alerting someone to danger before they even really knew what was happening. Or rather, if a threat was present enough to warrant dealing with it. The tattoo'd shinigami would notice the sight of another man upon him, and it annoyed him. It was enough to see the shoulder brush as an act of disrespect, a challenge for no reason other than to test his mettle. So Solhammond Palliser greyish eyes would fall onto the fellow spirit with contempt, anger even, as he scoffed cutting him off.

"Watch where you're going. Unless you're looking for a problem."

The subtle venom in his voice was enough to let the man know, he didn't care what he had to say. In fact he was offering him the chance to bow down, and walk away from this encounter. Otherwise it would become a problem, and one which Sol looked entirely ready to press to issue. His white knuckle fists clenched, his inked skin straining against lithe and coiled muscles. The sheathe weapon on his side was a Zanpakatou, but he didn't look like he intended to draw it. Rather from the way his body was tightened, it seemed if this came to blow he'd be using his fist.

So his eyes would narrow at the sharp eye'd male. Waiting for his answer, or his reply, be it via words or fists. At this point those around them who had been walking the street seemed to clear the area. It was clear that a brawl was likely to form, and if it did no one wanted to be imbetween these two men. However, already a betting pool was starting as was common among the slums. Hopefully local law enforcement would be slow to respond, or at least do so after a victor was declared. So if they fought, they would a good amount of time to settle this beef.

Sol waited. The crowd waited. To see if the other male would back down, or defend his honor.

Blood was in the water. Like that of a shark which caught the scent of a fresh kill, ready to commit it's self to the bloodlust. The dam had burst flooding the senses of Solhammond Palliser with but a single driving instinct. A single command which seemed to radiate from his core, to do unto this man nothing but harm. It was as if every restraint he had ever applied to himself was gone, this was no professional fighting ring where limiters where emplaced. No rules which to restrain the monumental tide of wrath now pouring from the soul of Solhammond.

The trainer fighter which he was saw the hand spring forward, the tightening of muscles and brief twitches which followed before a person committed to an action. It was only natural that his enemy make the first move, he had welcomed the chance after all. As the unknown male's hand raised towards his own throat, he didn't stop it. But the moment the other man committed, Sol already was springing into action. The coiled python-like body of the martial artist moving with uncanny agility and prowess.

Sol was no street brawler. No. He was a man whom had spent a large part of his life fighting with his fists. A man whom had never fought with the intention to truly hurt another man. Not until now. Not until his mind had become so twisted with intent, that he simply didn't care.

He fell backwards as the man sought to grab his throat, Sol throwing himself backwards as the man would naturally fall forward having intended to slam him into the ground. In this moment he'd throw his legs upwards as his body suspended in the air while falling down. His left hand gripping the man's wrist, and his right hand grasping at their forearm while he plummeted towards the ground. It would be highly unlikely the man could escape this manuever, if only cause all Sol did was fall backwards. Before his back would reach the ground however, he'd throw the back of his knee joint into their face attempting to drag them onto their back.

The speed in which this was performed in reply to him attempting to grip his throat would be near a blur, filled with tenacity and aggression which spoke volumes. If this brought the two to the ground, the unknown male would be a in an awful position with their arm being torqued such that there was a very real chance of snapping it or ripping a tendon.

Such was a martial artist such as Solhammond Palliser.

Skills:

A stubborn man was what you could call his opponent, perhaps as stubborn as Solhammond himself. In another life such a trait would be admirable in this moment, to persist when all rational thought would dictate they would want to get away. No, they sought to press forward into this assault attempting to double down on the gripping of his throat. It was at this moment, that whatever outcome transpired was the clashing of wills.

As their bodies crashed to the ground dust would be kicked up, as the shouts of the crowd would now be growing. The rampant bloodlust which was slowly overtaking the crowd was given verbal form. They wanted to see a fight, they wanted to see blood fly from these two misguided young men. It was almost gladitorial. In another setting Sol would be appalled at this lack of honor, of mutual respect, but in this moment he fed off of it. Thrived off their shouts for blood. It empowered him. It rushed to his brain stimulating his senses, as those grey irises would flash.

His neck flexed as he felt the man's free hand attempt to grip it. But at the same instant Sol would tense his entire body, and without regard for the other man, would straighten his body. This would place the man's entire arm under tension so sharp that the ground under them would quite literal crack under the force of Sol's back smashing against it. At the elbow joint it was very likely in this quick motion, with all his power, that the bone would dislocate or tendon snap in place rendering the arm useless provided he has nothing to fix that. Should this happen, it would literally impossible for the other man to reach towards his throat.

Sol intended to break his arm. It was that simple.

Skills:

The crack which emitted brought an almost gut wrenching level of satisfaction to the man to the man. The visceral display of violence was almost uncharacteristic on the usually soft features of Sol. But like so often spoken of, a man brought to his limit could be shown prone to intense action. So as the arm bent in a way which was natural, purple and dark spots now forming where the break was along with swelling. It was going to be an issue for the man, even after this fight.

However, he didn't have much time to enjoy the moment. For the brief moment of supposed shock which was on the man's face would melt away. A swift kick was delivered to the stomach of Sol, his heel digging into hardened skin enough to warrant Sol to cough and release the arm. Immediately he'd be rolling away, not wanting to take another wild kick from the man without surprising strength. Crouched on all fours, Sol would let out a ragged breath while staring at the man. His long hair draped over his face slightly, as the crowd voice seemed to rise in intensity from the display.

His face contorted into something which was sheer annoyance and aggression, indicating this fight wasn't over. Not by a long shot. Not until he felt he got his pound of flesh from the man, as white hot rage seemed to pour into his body. His fingers would scrap against the dirt of the ground, taking handfuls of it, before releasing it. In a moment he'd be up charging towards the man in a violent display of prowess, his hands raised to strike. As soon as he came into striking distance, Sol would throw a left-handed jab towards the man's face before quickly retracting the hand if he was able to. Immediately he'd follow up with another jab aimed towards the man's chin with uncanny speed.

Provided these two jabs, or even one, could hand it wouldn't be extremely damaging. Definitely disorienting as he was already circling towards the man's left side, his guard raised. His grey irises would flicker towards the weapon which the unknown man had, his hips beginning to twist backwards as his feet widened stance, muscles tensing and coiling for some reason.

Skills: