Well, I'm starting this thread just to start it, I don't feel like exerting any extra effort in making this, so... yeah...

Stage: Since It’s already been well established that I’m lazy, the stage will just be an expansive grassy knoll, with a few man-sized holes throughout the stage for the fun of it.

what exactly is this?

dweebs wrote:what exactly is this?

A match between my character and Twilighrshade's character. The title thread is incredibly skimpy, but that's just ebcause I'm incredibly lazy.

(OOC: I guess I get first post. Athias, I want to see your character sheet via PM, with no secrets hidden. I'll respond with mine as well. In the thread, it is to be assumed that these characters know nothing about each other, and both are in perfect condition at the beginning of the fight. I will not attack in this post. Also, although my character is not actually the original Shade, he is only known by that name. So please don't use the name I use in my posts. One last note, edit the title to say "Azade vs The Red Priest". Thanks, and good luck.)

Veils to conceal this horrible world he was trapped in, that's what his eyelids were for.

Azir rested underneath the morose grey mural they called the sky; his arms folded over his chest which was cocooned under the indigo cloak he wrapped around his body, his steady breathing only marked by the vapor clouds which escaped his nostrils. It wasn't often that his mind was able to escape itself and drift away from all the troubles and problems which plagued him day in and day out.

"Why are the humans so stupid?"

"Why do they even bother?"

"Why can't they just all die?"

In the grand scheme of things, it didn't matter. Eventually, he would have to face his troubles one way or another. He might as well put them out of their misery, just like his mentor had done for nearly a millennium. But now his mentor was gone. Yet he was still with him. Rather, Azir had once speculated, the man had passed himself on, in the beginning of a never ending mission to eradicate the vile filth that tarnished everything.

Now, it was up to Azir to continue the killings under the same infamous alias his mentor had gone by. Anybody that he deemed unworthy of living was to die by any means possible. And one possible target was approaching slowly, the pale brown, frostbitten grass blades crunching under the oppression of that being's feet.

Azir channeled dark energy through his cloak, fortifying it to the point where it could protect him from a falling skyscraper. His entire body was covered by the formidable barrier, save for the front of his head and his feet. He sensed the being coming through energy signature and sound, yet he made no move to meet the man head on just yet. Like Shade had said, the vermin always approached their own death. Like they had said, the world would one day be protected from the evil that plagued the earth.

In a comforting, calming, Shade.

The Red Priest stood alone, the soft grass razor sharp on his bare heels, the mild sun burning him through his thick robes. The crisp cool air scorched his throat, as the beautiful azure sky cast a chill through his soul. In his hand he held a ripe red apple, with every bite his hunger grew. The world was tainted, filled by a void.

Because the truth was, he was not alone. Or, perhaps he was, because his guest had no right to exist, and therefore didn't. An overly dramatic spectre, a bit of sentient hate with nothing to prove, disgusted by life but more pathetic than anything living.

'You, down there, you seem a little tense,' he called, 'so tell me, what makes you any different than the thousands of other hateful apparitions that predated you?'

((Ugh, absolutly pathetic, pathetic post I made here...ugh... I'm going to try to post on a daily or semi-daily basis though, so that's a plus)

(OOC: It's quality, not quantity. Also, I'm going to try to get into the habit of posting using the present tense.)

Azir's cloak clings to his body with a black static as he springs up using nothing more than his feet. The energy distinctly crackles into the man's concealed left palm, which openly faces towards the lightly packed dirt. His expression remains void of emotion as his violet irises commence digesting their fresh new adversary, who appears slightly more vertically challenged. The build of the man is difficult for Azir to perceive or guess; his foe's figure remains a secret under thick robes. A ripe, blood red apple rests in the man's left hand; already it is being carved into.

Insignificant specks of fruity flesh fling themselves off the man's face as he speaks. "So tell me, what makes you any different than the thousands of other hateful apparitions that predated you?"

Azir's emotional senses pick up on the man's views almost immediately. Dark energy derived from doubt powerfully radiates from him, which indicates that the man believes nothing positive exists. "A truly cynical view, and a rich source for manipulation." Azir silently notes inside his mind as he formulates a plan to take advantage of the man's weaknesses.

Suddenly, Azir's legs tense. His cloak wraps its arms around his neck with desperation as the distance between the two fighters is almost completely negated. A black blade appears in a blur from the man's left; its path of travel includes into and through the target's neck. A tick of the clock is all it takes for the master assassin to make his move, and Azir had won his race against time.