Hunter Vs. Zathire.

The hot dry air would come in to brush against razor sharp demonic canine teeth. Hot sand sweeping into the mouth a little with the strong gust of wind. A giant figure in the large mountains of sand. The sun blared down upon his form as sweat had made his hair cling to his neck. This refined old demon male that still looked like a young early twenties human had traveled far for this battle. It wasn't really his thing to fight in such a place of desolation. A week before an inventation with coordinates to come to a certain location was sent out to the opponent Hunter request a fight with.

The fight was only brought about because this other male had angered the hunter of life itself. Just one little word could offend the beastly male so badly, though pet peeves did this to people. Usually an asshole who didn't care for people, creatures, life. A person every now and again would worm their way into his heart and create a bond with this beastly monstrous looking male. The sand hand calmed down now as the male stood on one of the doons of sand. His long silver hair would be pulled back into a tight pony tail. His very dull grey optics looked out to the endless sea of sand in the dessert.

The males clothing would be sorta unique from what it had done when liquid came into contact with it. If it would to hit him, liquid that is it would rust roll off instead of clinging to his clothing and having it soak it up. He didn't care to have things cling to his body, he had adapted and learned from the skills people had possessed. Though the down side to wearing this was when he ripped through the fabric it would continue to rip till one single rip came all the way around his form. Again, his clothing is unique.

His feet on the other hand would be bare, this heat didn't feel like much to his bare feet. His pale skin though had become a bit red from how long he had been walking. Though his toe nails looked to be pointed, even his finger nails would be this way. Small things changed easy for him when it came to him wanting to brawl. These small things would also be the strong demonic blood that runs through his veins. Though there are two very noticeable things when you look at this male that stood seven foot four inches. He had a very muscular body, his muscles not tense or flexed stood six inches. His body was long and lengthy but held this muscle appearance almost like a god.

Though this male would be far from a god, he actually didn't care much for people who declared themselves to be that powerful alone. It made him laugh and spit before them in disgrace. His white shirt clung tightly to his muscular torso, even with his sweat coming down his inside and out off the neck it would keep its plain white color. He wanted to be noticed. His pant's, jeans made of the same fabric as his shirt. They held a dark pitch black color but it looked like his pants would be like looking into the star's at night on a clear night. His muscular structure would be the first thing people usually noticed right off the bat. the second was the weapons he constantly carried on his back.

Though at the moment he would have them both tightly gripped within his hands. What he gripped within his hands would be his choice of tools to use while taking care of a personal matter. Or when generally fighting in a war some place. War must have been his most favorite time, it was were he shined the brightest with the skill he possessed. The gripped loosened a bit every now and again, this would also cause his muscles to flex every now and again. Five foot circular poles that would have a double headed battle ax head on each end of it, making a total of four battle ax heads on the two poles.

The curve in the head's would be great as they had been large. The beastly male that used these tools would have many different heads for them so he had different ones created. Though two of each just encase. The hunter always needed to be prepared. Though he only carried one set on him at a time. The edge of the blade and the surface would be silver, a very dark dingy silver color though, this hap important purpose. Down the middle of the pole as well the same silver color could be seen if someone looked closely to him. Spike would sit in between the ax heads as well, this also had an important role as the tips had holes in them as well.

He would be standing to take a break from all his walking. His ears would be kinda wolf like as they stood up with silver fur, black tips and edging though. He would always remain alert and on guard, even while he slept. His past made him cautious but that was a good thing. To him at least. Maybe someone would pop into his eye sight while he looked around at all the sand.

An orange skin man stood within the desert. Even though he was more accustomed to the icy mountains mountains his father had raised him in he had always been curious to see the land his mother had been captured and taken from.

He held a 35 pound sword that could crush a sledgehammer like a fencing sword. It was made of poorly crafted steel, held no edge and was badly beaten. From the edges it could be seen where he had cracked through several armors as well as weapons and even brick walls. Still no sword had ever bested it nor armor took its furry. It's sheer mass had proven too blunt and the fact that only the edges that constantly got retreated and tempered were hard meant the steel had some malleability in its center making it stronger than a brittle tempered sword.

There was hardly anything fancy outwardly visible about his appearance and for the most part there wasn't anything outstandingly extraordinary that would say he was anything special compared to any other ordinary human. He had rough short uncombed brown hair and not too exiting brown eyes. His faded black shirt was worn and sun-bleached, evidence of the long time he'd spend outdoors. The short sleeves had been cut with swords from previous fights and the fact that he hardly changed his shirt and remained fairly unhygienic allowed the dust and friction of his muscle movements to wear them down into shredded ends.

A loose fitting greyish brown wool tank top covered that shirt providing some padding for him to rest his mighty sword on as well as warmth for the snowier regions he came from. This obviously provided no defense. His pants were a simple beige made from tanned hide leather, the same with his brown boots.

He had meant to travel with his elf who he loved so much he couldn't even remember her name, and his daughter on this family trip but they were busy reforesting a certain region of their land that had been burnt by orcs.

"Hey who the hell are you?" he shouted at some tall freak who was stood nine inches above his own beefy height and frame. His ears had picked up. The person barely looked human from the current distance, but then again traveling through the dunes you noticed things from a long ways. It might be several minutes before they came in contact and with the annoying ass sand eating away at two out of every three steps he took it was even slower. Zathire eventually found a bit of a dry wash with some packed and caked dirt and river stones that he could somewhat traverse in a normal fashion. He was quick to remove his feet from the tedium of the sand. Though this person being the only thing here, it almost seemed intuitive to approach. Judging from the poll-axes he duel wielded it might very well be a bandit. He wasn't planning on robbing this person despite his constant need to consume calories.

Eventually the features of the demon became clear, hideous by human standards. No more need to ask if he'd kill this thing, that was concluded upon the rusting liquid freakishly bathing the body on offhand occasions.

Despite Zathire's bulky frame hinting slightly towards the power that he held he mostly concealed the advantage of his strength from this opponent as well as a few other features of this less-than-human human.

The monstrous male would have an ear twitch as it pulled his head in a direction to look at some idiot yelling off in the distance. Was this the one that got delivered his message? He didn't look like much from a distance, fuck he looked tiny. His grey hues would get wide as they then became very thin as the pupil grew huge. He would be scanning over this figure now. Yuck, who the fuck has orange skin? God he looked like a giant umpulumpa, maybe he was the one who helped mass produce those little bastards. God that would just be comical, to think this tiny man mass produced such useless creatures. His parted lips would allow a small laugh to escape. His own thoughts amused him,oh how simply complex he was.

Though while looking over this tiny man as he grew closer he wouldn't see anything that would make him stand out. Besides that ugly sword? he carried with him. How ugly, it had no beauty at all. It was just a blunt object that was for beating people to death or so that's how it would be viewed as. Such a sloppy tool, Hunter almost envied him for using it. All the blood, god he could probably make someone's head explode by hitting him so hard. Almost spine shivering to think about. But he still looked to be the tiny man from afar. He did have a good muscle structure on him, this would hopefully provide more protection then his clothing.

He didn't bother to answer the male from so far away even though they where seemingly alone in this fight. Just the way this monstrous male would like it. He challenged one, he only expects to fight one. If someone else where to interrupted it would be doubtful for the monstrous male to control himself. He would hate people who just barged into a fight for no reason. Their reasons where never good enough for this beast anyways. He simply just didn't like to share his prey. "I'm the one you should have gotten a message from to meet me here for battle. Unless you just ate the bird."

He would add that little extra comment as he assumed he ate like his daughter. She always bragged about how proud he was of her eating habit, even though it was quite disgusting to have to watch. She eats more then the Hulk having the munchies times fifty. It's like she eats so fucking much she could eat five grocery stores and keep going. But his eyes would switch to his mid close combat situation eyes. His dull grey hues would thicken a little as the pupils got smaller once more. He would await a response before just charging him. This one did seem a little confused after all, didn't he get the message sent by that stupid fucking piece of shit flying beast?

A cheeky grin hit the barbarian's face. He had no idea if this person sent him a bird or not. Obviously he would eaten a bird if it flew to him. He'd brought down a bird themed empire merely on the basis that chicken had been outlawed. It's not like he'd remember eating a single bird unless it had been maybe a few hours ago and was his most recent meal.

Sizing the person up it seemed he didn't have the size advantage. Being a petite 330 pounds himself it was unlikely that someone 7'4" and mostly muscle with armor would be as light as he was, though his body was considerably more dense than average, it seemed likely they'd actually be about equal, though he'd make a mental note not too assume too much.

"Hell, if you're looking for a beating, I don't give a damn if you invited me or not."

Zathire would then proceed to march towards the person until they stood within 4 feet of each other or Hunter did something about this. He took no defensive stance, its as if he didn't even for a second consider the possibility of defending himself. His chest was wide open and he even did so much as tilt his chin up with his smile as if daring the person to strike his neck. All the while his sword was staked lazily into the ground about two inches where its own weight cracked the hard patch of soil he choose to rest it on. Still the long handles end rested in his grip in case he need whip it into sudden action.

In most respects his opponent looked equal. With his slightly longer arms his poll-axes were equal range to his sword with its 2 foot handle and 4 foot blade. The blade being slightly less than half an inch thick and about five inches wide. It carried enough weight to wreck havoc without being so heavy that his petite 330 pound body couldn't counterbalance it at decent speed. He even had to consider that while his opponent didn't look large enough to be nearly as strong as he was that the inhuman appearance may very well mean who he was fighting was a lot stronger for his size than he looked.

If Hunter was the type that waited then Zathire would let out a cocky yawn and do a horizontal slash with his right arm cutting towards his left or Hunter's right at waist height though he was hoping to receive the signal of a worthy fighter, one who didn't wait.