There's a good reason to have a coliseum, they just haven't thought to use it yet.

[Rasca]

Rasca had been paying what he deemed protection money to his friends boss for going on a few years now. He was a damned good business man and having a more or less mobile operation let him do more traveling than the average bar owner did. Which meant that every time he made the rounds he would stop by some Celesin territory and mail off his what was it they'd called it? Tithe? Taxes? It didn't matter. It basically meant to him that if shit hit the fan and he couldn't clean it up he had permission to call in some back up. Being friends with a General had its benefits after all. After mailing off this latest bit of money from his operations he would wander whatever town held this coliseum. Seeing Coliseum's always reminded him of his time spent fighting in The North. Rasca decided it was time to see if he could relive some of those memories.

Rasca is a short fellow, barely 5'4''. He isn't rich looking either. In fact he probably looked like the panhandlers in cities made a better average wage then he did. With raggedy shorts that may of once been pants and worth leather sandals that looked to be falling apart. A simple cloth vest that didn't cover his wide chest at all. And he was going around without something to cover his chest. Rasca's skin was permanently a brown like leather, from years upon years of outside physical labor. His muscles were dense and obvious on his frame, he looked like someone who knew how to throw a punch and make it hurt, no matter who or what he was hitting. His face was almost devoid of any unique features. Sure there were laugh lines on his face, and his brown eyes matched his brown hair. He also had a nose and two ears, and not a single scar was visible on his flesh. Which was certainly weird. He had a wide brimmed brown hat with a few multicolored feathers sticking out of it on the left side.

He carried himself with an air of confidence. He also carried a massive Hookah that was a good foot taller then him. The hose wrapped around his neck and vase sloshing with water. The color of the whole thing was a bright gold like the sunshine. Despite what was probably a good hundred or two hundred pounds worth of metal, he carried it one handed with ease. Holding the other end of the hose with his teeth and puffing large quantities of flavored smoke into the air about them. Padding at his heels was a chubby looking brown and white corgi. He seemed to have a pouch of his own that jingled whenever he moved.

Rasca moved into the Coliseum and looked around for some place to sign up for a fight. Maybe even someone to fight. He was curious to see if he still had it.

((Basically if anyone wants to spar Rasca go for it. I'd really appreciate it, as this will give me something to keep my mind off of other things.))

[War Torn]

Batson:

{And there we said, Hero?}

William Joseph Batson. The name was unfamiliar in this universe, really, and how could it be recognized? The holder of it was a blue eyed black haired white skinned short-nothing fifteen year old boy. A red but well kept shirt adorned his torso, blue jeans covered his lower half, and sneakers covered his feet. Truth be told, it'd been a year since he had been home but if anything he adjusted somewhat and managed to maintain himself, heck, even get a little muscle living in the wilderness and running all over the place. It was the Gohan affect, really, and if anything it made him even more self reliant then he was before!

“Wow, this place is cool!”

Said the boy, within the city the Celesin Coliseum was in. It had been a good while since he had been in any type of City really, and thinking about it, he probably was just glad to be here altogether, within the light of civilization! An unfamiliar one at that, but still civilization no less! Whistling while he walked, Billy took in all the sights he could see with his eyes, all the buildings, roadways, signs and such, and just carried on his merry little way.

“Hm? Whoa, that seems out of place!”

What did? Well, the Coliseum itself of course! This was the Celesin Empire here we're talking about, master of mastered empires, tech savy and all sorts of prowress on the field of combat, and yet, here sat a coliseum in the middle of one of the bustling cities! Billy frowned, rubbed his chin. The building brought back a fond memory of his journey in this universe, one of a fight no less, a fight not rotten to the core with ill intent and it made Billy smile. His pacing picked up, and before he knew it, he was running towards the thing, dodging this person and that to get there, and as one would expect, at one point he finally would. Unless it was different or technically sound, a coliseum was probably Roman like and if it was? He'd run through it, arms waiving around, all happy and full of laughs.

“Ha ha! Woo! Cool! Neat! Stoney!”

He jumped over a few stones, passed more people, and seemed to be having the time of his life, up until he actually ran into the seating arrangements of the coliseum. They were wondrous and long and such, but that wasnt what he was looking at. No, rather, he was looking at someone within the sandy pit, Rasca. His head tilted, and he thought about it, a hand coming up to tap his index finger on his lip. Suddenly he smiled and was off. Somewhere in the city a mighty Krakoom could be heard, a small thunderstorm that lasted for a split second and for a brief moment, those looking up could see a blur of colors, red, white, gold, and yellow, all heading towards the coliseum. Above the coliseum, for a split second, the air stirred and whirred.

“Heeeeyyyyyyy! Up here!”

The voice was mature, gallant even, yet held an air of childishness and kindness to it, and upon looking up, one Captain Marvel would be floating there. His attire was a bit fruity. Waving near his right side was a half cape, white colored and gold rimmed. Upon his torso was a tight fitted red outfit, a yellow colored lightning bolt plastered on the chest, gold arm bands of sorts about his forearms while a yellow sash adorned his waist. Below this was the same red colored outfit that seemed like one big red thing altogether, and a pair of bright yellow boots. As fruity as it was, the person in it was anything but. A chiseled barrel like chest of pure muscle stood out the most, as did powerful looking arms and legs and lastly a head that had a very square but chiseled chin as well. Short black hair stood still and blue eyes stayed plastered on Rasca as the good Captain lowered down from his flying height, hands balled into fists and placed on his thighs. Booted feet would eventually touch the ground and the general air about him, despite having such an imposing figure, was oddly calm, relaxing and Pure.

“Wanna fight?”

Captain Marvel stated as such simply and waited for a response. A hero was a hero, but natural teen boy aggression was just as it what, and deep down inside all radiation of good and powerful, thats all Captain Marvel, no, Billy Batson was.

[Rasca]

Children with super powers wasn't that uncommon where he came from. It was children that turned into super heroes and good people that were rare. In looking at this creature which seemed to take a bunch of colors and childish drawings and place them together to be inspirational he would quirk a brow from under his hat. The pose the man was in spoke of confidence, and definitely someone who had some experience. Well this could be interesting.

Rasca found himself setting his Hookah down and grabbing something from his pack. Unscrewing something here and then removing a water skin. Eyeing the low water level he would nod and squeeze a bit of a red liquid into the vase. Anyone who got a whiff of it would know that what he'd just squeezed into there was some rather strong red wine. Finally he would take the short hose off the hookah and take out a much longer one. Two feet was fine for on the go, but it would get hard to smoke if the hose wasn't longer so he replaced it with a five foot hose.

Once everything was replaced and the hose was producing a thick haze of lightly scented smoke he would nod to the barrel chested man that had floated down. "'sup Bro? Ya got any rules bro or we just gonna follow the usual fight code? No hittin' the danglies?" Apparently that was the only rule Rasca cared about. He began to stretch and audibly crack his joints. It had been a few months since he'd gotten a proper fight.

He nodded to his pup. "Wait on the sidelines, I'll tag you in if this macho man requires it." The small dog nodded and gave a yip at him before turning towards the opponent. The dog went down on his front legs stretching out his paws and giving a bow before trotting off to the sidelines with the jingle jangle of coin in his pack.

Rasca padded towards the middle of the coliseum's fighting pit, looking around at any of the spectators and smiling and waving. He liked to work the crowd when there was one. Then as he placed himself and adopted his usual loose fighting stance he would take the already opened wine skin and drink deep of it until it was but a few drops left and drop the skin on the ground. "I dedicate this fight to The Unconquered Sun." If that wasn't enough of a hint of what he was to the crowd well, they were about to see just how well someone of his caliber could fight. "Come at me Bro."

[War Torn]

Batson:

{Unconquered Sun vs The Power of Shazam!}

He watched the man smoke, brow quirking. From what he remembered, his dad enjoyed a cigar or two, mostly right after he and his sister were born, but Lord, nothing that outrageously big! He sniffed the air a bit, no super smell of course, he just wanted to see what Rasca lit up was stinky and or smelled of marijuana. If so, well, win or lose, he'd have to remind himself to take a bath after this. Stank was stank after all! Rasca did speak and the good Captain nodded.

“Yup! I can agree to that!”

He gave a cheesy thumbs up then frowned. Not meanly, mind you, more out of randomness since he just noticed the pooch following Rasca around. Huh, how could he miss that? Shaking his head, Captain Marvel smiled none the less.

“Cute pup! Even though I have a nagging suspicion it could probably bite and leave a mark wherever It bites!”

If only he knew. None the less Rasca did a little request and to fall in line, the manchild that Captain Marvel was did the same!

“And I dedicate this bout to the wizard who gave me his power, and the pantheon that granted it!”

He saluted Rasca and without further ado he began the fight. How? Well first off, the mental 'restraint' he put upon himself was let lose a bit. This restraint had no appearance but in his mind Captain Marvel saw them as soda pop bottles with their caps on which he generally began twisting off. Strength, speed, endurance, 'magical output', all of them counted towards this nifty little system and for now? Like always? He eased the caps off just enough to fizzle. 15 percent all around, that should do. This required no actual movement, and it took quicker then it did to type up the explanation but it had purpose in the good Captains plan of attack.

Said attack first started by Captain Marvel looking down at the ground below him, judging a thing or two before nodding. In a flash, his right fist rose above his head and smashed into the ground, making a good three foot wide five foot tall jagged piece jut out, which the Good Captain proceeded moved his hand to its center and dig  his fingers into it. Effortlessly he hauled the thick piece of Earth/Rock and to shoulder level, sticking his left foot out a bit while his right side reared back.

“Fast ball!”

It gave Rasca even more time to do something or move, but Captain Marvel shouted said words out, with an odd hint of glee. Then without further ado, his powerful frame whipped forward and the chunk was tossed from his hand towards Rasca. The Good Captains aim wasny specific, but the chunk was enough to encompass torso or so, so it was aimed a bit dead center. Captain Marvel figured Rasca had it in him to tank the blow, it was sort of a 'test' just to see that but an attack was an attack and it could hurt if the fast chunk did hurt. One had to wait and see, like Marvel was doing just after he threw it.

[Rasca]

Rasca watched what he dedicated things to. It was curious to see someone copy his own actions. He after all wasn't exactly a proper role model kind of guy. It seemed almost childish for someone that old to copy someone especially when they didn't understand the reasons. By dedicating the fight he would bring the attention of higher powers upon him, it could bring luck or garner extra power, and maybe bring a little more attention from those powers that hired him. After all he wasn't keen on how Celesin dealt with bringing things from Yu-Shan into the mess. It would be interesting to learn.

That however was all for later, now there was a pillar of stone being formed, and a mass of it being thrown at him as the opening pitch of this battle began. Rasca's own stores of essence coalesced and while nothing happened to him, one could see that the giant Hookah he had, seemed a little more there, a little more real, brighter, and powerful. The supposedly thin sheet of golden glass of the vase along with the rest of the golden smoking apparatus, include the hoses seemed to radiate power.

Turning upon the heel of his left foot backward he would now have his side facing his opponent, with a swift step he hopped backwards a few feet and raised easily his Hookah in a horizontal position. Normally this would of caused his smoking to stop, but alas the cover upon the bowl of the hookah's top was in place and kept the coals where they needed to be. He swung the glass looking vase at the incoming rock, and it would smack it. Amazingly the vase of the hookah neither shattered nor warped, and instead gave out a metallic clang. What to others looked like glass, Rasca knew was finely crafted Orichalcum. The golden metal of the sun itself. This made it hyper resilient to damage, and gave certain benefits.

What happened was the pitch was sent right back at the pitcher. However the swing he'd made had been over exaggerated and thus caused Rasca to momentarily lose his footing. Tumbling backwards and landing rather unkempt upon his ass, the small hiccup that stank of alcohol was obvious. He'd been drinking before he came in, so was it any surprise that the sudden addition of MUCH more would send him over into an inebriated edge. Taking a deep pull from the hose he would sprawl his legs out in front of him, sandals kicking up small motes of dust as he looked of all things, bored. He was either taunting the other fighter, or he really was that dumb.

[War Torn]

Batson

{Things!}

The good Captain had a feeling most of those things would happen! That the Hookah wasnt normal, that  it probably had powers or was exceedingly strong, and that Rasca himself most likely wasn normal either, oh and of course his attack would fail! Such things werent completely common in this world, but also not exceedingly rare either. Regardless, even before Captain Marvels attack failed, he was preparing something, this being somewhat signaled (though hopefully unseen, rock to the face and all) by both of his physically vibrating. It didnt seem like much really, but in truth it was actually Captain Marvels fists moving really really fast only in very slight motions. This would come into play the second he saw his stone coming right back at him in two ways.

“Batter up and...FOUL BALL!”

He missed catching the thing (and thus getting the final out to the game and winning, poor lug!) and opted to do a simple flying spin to his right to get out of the rocks range/way. The motion seemed harmless for Rasca at first, but be told, the second the good Captain turned completely to face him, he'd find his right arm suddenly thrusting forward at him. There would be a resounding cracking sound and the next thing one could see was the 'vibration' in that right fist/arm being 'thrown out', the sheer constantly moving force breaking through and somewhat gathering a few elements of the wind as it quickly, in a sort of transparent colorless arrow shape, flew towards Rasca. If it connected, it was aimed at somewhere along his waist, and upon connecting with him (or even the ground) a small explosion of pure force and slight heat would erupt. Nothing tremendous or awful, but an explosion was an explosion and it could still hurt!

As if that wasnt enough, Captain Marvel would wait a moment or two to see the results of his attack, and whether it hit or not, he'd thrust his other fist out and seek to have the same kind of attack head towards Rasca hit/dodging/parrying/blocking frame! Only after the second attack would Marvel place his feet on the ground, knees bent, a curved giddy little smile on his face, whole body tensed to a degree and with arms curled, hands balled into fists. He could hear and 'feel' the caps in his head loosen more as he thought, hey, why not kick it up a little more, eh?

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