Roleplay Online with RolePlayGateway

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First post: Windsor Arcanum
Restrictions: None.

Please remember to be mindful of the Official Tournament Rules.

• There will be a 30 day time limit on all matches.
• There will be a 3 day response time limit on all matches.
• If an opponent does not show within the first 7 days, they will be replaced.
• Actions will be voided if the poster can not accurately explain them within the post.
• All participants will display sportsmanlike conduct.

All matches will take place in a nondescript (and mostly destructible) ring 30 meters in diameter, made of the same flat white marble as the rest of the GT Dimension's buildings. An additional 10 meters of grass extends outward from the edge of the raised ring, finally meeting a 10 meter wall which rises into the stands surrounding the ring. The descent to the ground from the ring is a mere meter, and serves as a clearly defined boundary between the out-of-bounds area and the actual combat arena.

At no point in time are the competitors permitted to touch the ground at any point outside of the ring, or the match will end in a ring-out, declaring the remaining party the winner. Transversal outside of normal four-dimensional timespace (or, at least as normal as the GT Dimension can be) as well as backwards transit on the plane of time will result in the offending party being disqualified.

The stands surrounding the ring are filled with spectators that will have arrived just prior to the start of the tournament (by just a few days). At no point during a match should harm come to the audience, else the immediate disqualification and forceful removal of the offending party will become the primary focus of the GT League staff.

In The Big Leagues

The sound of the crowd roared through the stands as thousands of spectators stood looking down at the plain square arena. A perfectly level playing field. It seemed the fights had already been arranged and were probably in plain sight, but in the wizards haste, he hadn't bothered to even pay attention. Just knowing that it was his turn to fight was enough to get him out there.

Windsor stood at roughly half the distance from the center of the ring, his head tilted, as it often was, slightly to the side with a seemingly blanks stare beneath the shadows of his traditional hat. His rounded glasses reflected a fierce orange glow in contrast to the darkness, adding to the effect that he was completely unaware of his surroundings. The energy that brought the Crimson Bishop into the arena seemed to have been dispelled. Perhaps, that was because he was standing their alone. Quite possibly, he may have succumbed to a temporary stage fright upon being the only one in the arena.

It didn't help any that he was the new guy. Already, parts of the crowd were roaring their support for his opponent.

"Ashigaru!"

"Katana!"

'Maybe Ashigaru means 'wizard' in their language...' the caster thought quietly in his stillness.

Awwwww, hell yeah! mused Katana. A woman, it’ll be a woman, it’s gotta be a woman. He was assuming that his opponent had already entered the ring, so soon would he, too. He could hear the crowd roaring his name. “It’s almost time to make my dazzling entrance..”

“Ashigaru”

“Katana”

“Ashigaru”

“Katana!”

Katana rushed towards the entryway that would lead to his arena, kicking both of the doors nearly off their hinges “Now, now, everyone! Your adored protagonist is now present!!” Amongst the screaming fans and roaring audience Katana singled a few out whilest sauntering up to his side of the stage I’d do her… do her… Hmn… not her.. but definitely her! He couldn't help but blush bright red at the thought of what the after-party would be like. He turned to face the roaring crowd; attention that only fed his ego like feeding the animals at the zoo. “Now! For my equally beautiful, preferably female, opponent!” He whirled around on his heel, eyes closed as he pointed his finger to the opposite end of the ring from him, directly at Windsor. “You-“ he opened his eyes, and his face instantly flushed.

“……..”

“WHAT THE HELL?!”

“Why am I the dude that’s gotta fight the old-timer?!” He said, still pointing. “Ref, REF, where are all the beautiful women at?!” He wasn’t getting any feedback, it seemed, so he’d just have to go with it. He placed his hand on the hilt of Sodom, a piece of a pair dubbed ‘Sodom and Gomorrah’, and unsheathed the blade. “Alright, grandpa, let’s do this.”

The Young and the Slightly Older

The spell caster stood motionless in his place as he watched a swordsman enter the arena in a most grandiose fashion. His entire demeanor and parading spoke of supreme confidence in his ability. The kind of confidence one quickly gains when a mob his supporting a leader. After a moment of flirting with the women in the stands, the swordsman finally took his place on the stage and took note of his opponent for the first time.

“WHAT THE HELL?! Why am I the dude that’s gotta fight the old-timer?! Ref, REF, where are all the beautiful women at?!”

"Old-timer?" Windsor asked quietly, half to himself and half to the man standing across from him. "I'm only twenty-four years old, though..."

He watched closely as the man drew one of his two swords from place, signaling that it was time to start.

"Contestants! This 1st round of the Grand Tournament, between WIndsor Arcanum and Katana Ashigaru has begun!!" an announcement boomed in.

'Ok, NOW it's time to start' the wizard thought to himself.

No sooner had the announcement been made did the mages aura begin to pour out from around like a thick, crimson oil. His gloved hands pulled themselves from within the confines of his heavy robes, their fingers seeming to flex and move wildly of their own accord before locking into fearsome 'claws.' A different glow began to form within the cruor that bleed away from Windsors smaller form, this one blue and white in color and burned from his bio-mechanical left arm. Even the orange lenses seem to shine with fiery life.

The crowd continued to roar in their stands, only to slowly hush themselves as a foreign presence swept through the air, carrying a sinister, otherworldly voice with it. It's language was unknown, it's source undiscovered. Only the archaic words echoed with staggering clarity from what seemed to the any who heard them, to enter straight into their minds. But how was that possible when everyone could hear it? More frightening to a few, was that they were beginning to hear not just one voice speaking it's words, but another and quickly two more identical voices each speaking their own enchanting words.

A gleaming white smile split the shadows beneath Windsor's traditional wizards hat, as normal teeth seemed to start shifting into a wild, toothy grin. The white of his teeth seemed to stretch farther as the four separate incantations closed, his grin now so wide as though it would split the mages head in two. As the mouth began to open slowly, the spell casters form doubled over to throw his face into the tightened claws of his hands. For a second, it seemed as if the atmosphere and tension had finally gotten to him as a thick, green, smoky, slime poured from his gaping maw and into the wizards open hands. Windsor slowly rose with the steaming 'vomit' kept in both his hands before returning his mirrored gaze to the swordsman across from him.

Instantly, the Wizard threw his disgusting contents expelled from his mouth into the air around him and for that second, it would've seemed like he was throwing puke at his opponent (and the spectators). It wouldn't take long for everyone to realize that something much more subtle was in the works. The cloudy slime froze in the air around the Crimson Bishop, as ghastly strings of his bloody aura attached themselves to his tainted breath of life. The orbs seemed to react violently in their own ways as each underwent a dramatic change, from bursting into flames, to turning completely blue and liquid, to vanishing in a swirling vortex of air and power, to hardening and falling to the stadium floor like a stone.

The spells had been cast and soon everyone would know. As the watery orb vanished into the grass behind the combat stage and the airy one seemed to blink completely out of existence, the orbs of fire and stone simply remained and grew at an incredible rate. The burning sphere quickly grew into a torrential inferno before the features of a man appeared, welding two sabers cast from the same fire that created it while the stone expanded into a much more menacing humanoid-armadillo like creature, complete with it's own assortment of six fierce claws set beneath a massive domed shell and a long pointed tail that hung over the creature like a scorpions tail. Windsor's hands retreated into the confines of his robes as he stood between the fiery titan and the earthen monster, the wizards deranged smile still ever present.

Without so much as a nod or a blink, the creature was off first, it's stony body immediately coiling up into a ball as rows upon rows of earthen spikes appeared across it's shell, before it screamed across the arena floor and directly at the swordsman. Despite it's size and apparent weight, the creature moved uninhibited and with startling speed while the flaming warrior stood ready.

Such were the wishes of the wizard Arcanum as his essence flowed through the manifestations of natures elements. While the apparitions of Fire and Earth took their respective actions, the other two that had seemed to vanish all together had simply taken to other, unnoticed actions beneath the very stones of the combat arena and in the very air around everyone there. Each waited patiently to do their creators bidding without question, hesitation and most importantly, without anything more than his very will to reach them. Their time would come soon.

”Contestants! This first round of The Grand Tournament between Windsor Arcanum and Katana Ashigaru has begun!”

Katana took twine from the spools attached to his gourd on his back interlacing them in his fingers. Alright, old man, let’s do this shit he said, viewing the sinister crimson aura pouring out from his foe like a formless amoeba.

Suddenly his enemy vomited, Katana raised an eyebrow with a grin that revealed only his upper teeth then shouted across the arena “Gross! Losin’ your lunch already? I think I got a coupla’ antacids here somewhere…” he said, fishing into his pockets, the spools turning slightly as he shuffled his hands around. “Ah… my bad… Guess you’re gonna have to man… up…?” His words were slightly delayed, viewing the gargantuan armadillo form just in front of him. Clearly this guy isn’t human; I’ll have to be a little more cautious when dealing with him. Suddenly, the massive armadillo balled up and barrowed towards Katana, crushing tiles with each rotation. Fragments of rock and dust passed off each turn the massive beast made. Katana decided not to deal with the creature up front and instead simply avoid it. He squatted and dove to the side opposite of the flame guardian, clearing the golem, allowing it to fly off the edge and into the stands.

Shiiiiit, that was close. Instinctively, Katana used his squatted position to propel him straight towards his foe, whereas he appeared as nothing more than a motion blur, spools ricketing, sword flailing, whilest donning his own sort of grin. He skidded to a stop passing by his opponent making a crescent so he wouldn’t ring-out himself, fabrics of his clothes, and hair, be it his own or not, slowly fluttered down upon the adversary. While he was still sliding, he used his sword to aide him in stopping by stabbing it into the tile, impressively penetrating the thick slabs.

Whilest he used Sodom to stop himself, Gomorrah was constantly at work, as it had always been, sheathed across his belt line at his back. One who could see mystic patterns, like Windsor, could see the flows of magic everywhere except within the direct viscinity of Katana. It was like a blot of normality was within one meter of everywhere Katana went, there was no way Katanas own magicks were fast enough to keep up with the speed of his movements, and yet, this field somehow could. What made it worse is whenever he moved the areas mystic patterns that were once there cleared as he occupied the space, which literally caused altered effects of nature that weren’t precisely tangible to become undone to the way they originated.

He may have not made a direct attack on Windsor… yet, but he definitely closed the gap between them. There was that grin, again, it was the kind of grin that a child makes to his sibling after her tells on them and gets the other in trouble. To be honest, it was a vexing smirk more than a diabolical grin. An annoying smile that reflected someone who had some foothold, some assurance of, some sort of solace for the remainder of the match.

When the World is Against You

The behemoth of stone spun wildly out of the arena and landed itself square in the arena wall beneath the stands with a bang that shook the stands and seemed to draw the attention of the entire crowd. Those closest to the crater in the wall found themselves hanging over the railing to look down at the creature embedded there with mouths agape and eyes staring before eventually allowing their gazes to follow the path of ripped up ground back to the spell caster that summoned them. The stones that composed the bizarre golem began to rock and fall before tumbling out of the newly made hole, only to return to it's bulky form.

Despite the impressive speed of his opponent, Windsors mirrored eyes remained attentive to his every move, following the swordsman that now stood behind him, grinning smugly at his own tactical move. It seemed nothing could have been learned from that single dodge, and yet, the bio-mechanical wizard was absorbing plenty. The crazed grin beneath the shadows grew wider as the spell caster made particular note of a strange absence that surrounded the samurai before him, an absence that the wizard was more than familiar with having dwelt within the Technocracy as long as he had. In his world, it was the art of Geomancy, the mathematical and scientific destruction of magic. Considering the foe Windsor was facing, it was more likely that the anti-magic field was something far more natural, simplistic and more than anything, tied to a tool in the mans possession. As much as the Crimson Bishop would have loved to trace the source through the field, all of his extrasensory abilities failed in this, leaving only his observations and primary senses to discern the source of the accursed barrier. Fangs grew longer and sharper in the monstrous mouth of the spell caster, fiery crosses began to burn with power from the wizards eyes that shone brilliantly against the reflective lenses, Windsor's bloody aura continuing to pour out and stain the stone beneath him. White marble slabs were turned black and brittle against the magicians dark power. The demented smile tightened menacingly.

Had the samurai been lucky enough to look at or pay attention to his feet in this instant, he would have seen or felt water beginning to seep through the cracks in the stone. Only a small puddle at first, bubbling and gurgling through the cracks, before turning into a torrential, chilled geyser with the enough pressure to throw the swordsman a good thirty feet into the air. To the audience staring in awe around them, it would've seemed the fall from a throw that high into the air would be the worst of it. To the person caught in it's tidal force, the feeling of freezing cold water given supernatural force would have been the gravest worry as that unfortunate individual would've felt their body attacked, as if by slicing blades. It was only after the enchanted waters reached the apex of their flight, did it's lethality disappear letting those in the stands caught beneath the shower, feeling more of a refreshing mist than the stabbing, near-ice blades before the torrential spray disappeared, leaving a merman-esque figure and trident standing in the samurai's place.

Windsors eyes continued to track the samurai's motions, even through the distraction of the water pillar, his mind continuing to run rampantly through it's calculations. Unseen to any but the spell caster himself, the air around him grew with new life, heeded by a silent call. No motion was made by the crafty wizard to suggest he had called the tainted air around him, nor was any motion seen or felt to suggest that there was even an air elemental in the first place.

At the same time the tainted aero-creation moved to it's master, the spirit of fire that stood nearby took note of a different call from the wizard. The samurai would have to move by virtue of his own skill or through the torrent that lifted off of the ground. It was under that fact, the monstrosity of flame took off, his task set on meeting Katana Ashigaru upon touch-down in a blazing fury of smoke and fire drawn out by the titan's roaring blades.

Katana was either brilliant – which he didn’t let on – or he was having a run of dumb luck. The sword, Sodom that was precariously placed stabbing into the ground right in front of him just so happened to be within the same spot the water started to bubble and gurgle. Sodom now did its job, it drew in the very medium that made this soon-to-be waterspout what it was, just as it had begun to leech off the spellcasters aura (as soon as he had skidded to a stop). The Sodom glowed ominously, a teal aurora which completely encircled the blade, it was fairly weak, so far, but the more of this tainted aura that it took in, and the more it absorbed of the water element, the more vibrant this aura of its own became.

By this time Katana was face with little more than a waterspout, one that slung his body into the air like a projectile, slinging him high into the air. The hell is with this guy? These freaks keep comin’ out of nowhere.. The circle of negation created by Gomorrah would have been enough to protect him from the enchantments of the water, even had he not had Sodom where it was. Supernatural enchantments in water, fire, air, all magical patterns were rendered useless when they neared Katana.

While the waterspout pushed him upwards, katana would have to make the most of his dexterity. He twisted the threads, entangling them further, while he reached up for his sword. Then with both hands just as he was nearing the zenith of his ascent, he spun the blade rapidly, counterproductive to the effects of gravity, the blade acted as a helicopter blade, leaving a swirling turquoise trail in its wake.

“EEEEYAAA HAAA HAAA HAAA,” he cackled, hushed whispers and pointed fingers spread across the crowd as he slowly sputtered over the fire guardian, his trajectory being offset by the incredible amount of resistance he created. Slowly katana lowered to the ground, still spinning the blade. The spinning of his blade served a trichotomous purpose, in the aspect that it served as a third, and much more controllable, spool, for his threads. Second, and finally, it also created a massive amount of circular-patterned wind, creating a strong vortex, thirdly it allowed him to cycle this energy from Sodom into Loyalty, the old-style musket on his back.

“ALRIGHT, BUD, YOU KEEP SUMMONING THOSE DAMN GREMLINS AND I’M GONNA SHOVE KING ATLANTIS’ TRIDENT OVER THERE SO FAR UP YOUR ASS YOU’RE GOING TO BE BLOWING SHIT BUBBLES, LIKE YOUR FISHY FRIEND, FOR WEEKS!”

He said, it appeared that the landing zone for him was just about where he started, perhaps making his progress a proverbial circle, or maybe a wild goose chase.

Changing Gears

“ALRIGHT, BUD, YOU KEEP SUMMONING THOSE DAMN GREMLINS AND I’M GONNA SHOVE KING ATLANTIS’ TRIDENT OVER THERE SO FAR UP YOUR ASS YOU’RE GOING TO BE BLOWING SHIT BUBBLES, LIKE YOUR FISHY FRIEND, FOR WEEKS!”

The samurai called from the air above, as the guardian of flames halted his pursuit. The spell caster's smile slowly faded as the blank look that covered his face in the beginning, returned as if confused by the spectacle he was witnessing or as if his opponents raving itself had managed to strike a nerve. Only a moment passed before Windsor's gaze dropped from the air to the empty space in front of him. His body began to twitch, slowly at first, before breaking into violent convulsions that seemed to startle and scare the crowd around them. Already, the Crimson Bishop demonstrated a magical prowess that would alarm most caught in his path, and now his uncontrolled movements seemed to be the harbinger for greater power or destruction.

In part, this was true. All around the wizard, the blackened taint that spread from beneath his feet lashed out with new purpose and found their targets in the elemental aspects that had recently been created. As the shadowy cords slipped beneath the feet of stone, fire and water, they immediately lashed out and ensnared their incorporeal forms drawing out their respective howls of defiance. No sooner had the dispel been cast did their bodies quickly dissolve into nothingness. Only the aerial creation that surrounded Windsor remained, still unseen and undetected, while the webs of darkness burned themselves permanently into the stone.

The smaller wizards uncontrolled motions suddenly froze, leaving his fiery lenses to stare, head tilted into the air and to the side once more. Another moment passed, and the twisted, toothy grin began to form once more beneath the shadows of his hat. He knew.

"So, it's both of those swords after all," the caster called out to Katana, "the items that are canceling out my magic? No matter, I have plenty of other tools to defeat you with."

In that instant, the magician spun into a blur of crimson and black, his hat and robes flying off in the whirl and landing out of the arena before the wizard stopped, body doubled over and hand planted firmly on the crumbling stone beneath his feet. The weapon that had peeked out from beneath the robes was now fully revealed, a shining silver and blue gun of titanic proportions held firmly in it's sheath. More than that, the true form of the spell caster was also revealed to the eyes of Katana Ashigaru. Spiked black hair, darkened tan skin, black sigils could now be seen, though the most out of place feature about him (aside from the gun) was his mechanical left side and the patches of neon grafts that began to glow with new power. Again, the spell casters aura surged, though unlike before, his darkness and crimson became overwhelmed by sapphires and gold. His Dark Eboreus burned brightly, called silently from within the depths of the master magicians being, fueled by the Boltzmann that was slung to his waist.

"Time to dance, little samurai," Windsor's voice echoed through the stands, twisting with ruinous energies and dazzling power.

Without another second wasted, his rifle was drawn and aimed at the sky, the smile twisting wildly. Boltzmann glimmered cobalt in Windsor's metallic arm as the alchemic glyphs activated, drawing in from the enormous well of meta-physical power within it's master, while also pulling in the various micro-particles that danced in the open air. The Devils Tincture immediately built up in the snipers five barrels and was sent screeching through the air in a whorl of iridescent blue energy. It's target was the very heart of the samurai that taunted the Crimson Bishop from above.

Despite being fed by magic, the super-heated tincture was nothing more than a product of science and alchemy. It's high radioactivity and intense output under Windsor Arcanum's power, gave it a strength comparable to that of refined plasma. If the shot from the legendary Sigma hit it's mark (which was highly likely, given the sniper training of Windsor and the rifles purpose), the samurai would find himself in a world of hurt, if not death. This was a weapon designed for slaying man, a weapon that devoted all of it's energy into the incineration, eradication and absolute destruction of it's target. Such was the way of the Sniper.

The rules had changed.

Loyalty vs Boltzmann

Katana viewed as the transformation yielded a different appearance upon his enemy, and one really, really big gun. "COMPENSATING FOR SOMETHING, ASSHOLE?!" he shouted, the steady almost-mechanical sounding rotations of Sodom nearly dulling out his voice. Just looking at that thing tells me it's dangerous. I don't want to take my chances.. He thought, and in turn he let one hand off the blade, slowing it's spin drastically, causing him to slowly lower to the ground. Of course, as any trained sniper would and could, he assumed that his foe would keep his sights set on the samurai.

This is too soon, I haven't maxed the ol' girl out yet.. pulling what seemed to be a quaint, yet obsolete, musket. Wrong. This was Katana's most powerful single weapon in his arsenal. This things got enough for one shot... He said, sweat dripping down his temple, losing momentum. He looked down the sights of his gun and was sure that the other was doing the same, at this point.

One shot. He said, the energies that were converted into raw, destructive force, that were about to be fired from this gun, were stolen from his enemy. By no means was Katana an expert marksmen, but with this gun by no means did he need to be.

Click

I'll wipe that fuckin' smile off your face, grampa... He thought, just as the overwhelming explosion of energy fired from Loyalty bathing everything within the viscinity in a blinding pearl aura. The blast of energy was more than enough to overwhelm the blast fired from the boltzmann. Marble tile dislodged itself as the blast collided with that of the Sigma, then shattered as it was overwhelmed and continued on towards Windsor, at a 45 degree angle, the roar of the blast was like the roar of a thousand falls echoing from every direction. The energy was a pure, turquoise hue that would have blinded him had he not had the sunglasses on, being blinded would be the least of his worries, now, though.

The recoil, however, was not kind to Katana, he was knocked out of the sky and slammed into tile on the ground, cracking it on landing. He probably broke a rib, it felt like he ruptured something, and the blood that exploded from his mouth upon impact wasn't doing anything much more than verifying his hypothesis. Instead of the crowd being terrified of the conjurer, now they were only dazed, caught in a state of awe. There was that all-too-familiar silence, but unlike when they hushed for windsor with fear of his insanity, there was an air, perhaps not one of admiration, but definitely one of respect.

Katana used Sodom as a crutch to allow him to raise himself onto a knee, then onto his feet. "Fuck me, that shit hurt." he said, and his thoughts didn't differ, much, Now I know why I keep that thing locked up..

Backfire

Suddenly, the spell caster found himself staring down an enormous ball of energy, screaming with torrential energies. It's overwhelming force broke against the Boltzmann, shattering it's long nose first before moving to destroy the rest of the gun. In that instant, Windsor's body froze in astonishment, his darkened form now only a shadow. It seemed his fate had been sealed.

"Did that really just happen?"

'We'll get it back, but those fucking swords have got to go.'

With hand outstretched and a single thought that seemed to freeze time as his cryptic words broke through and muted the growing explosion. The focused energy, his energy, but most importantly true magical energy found itself confronted by a considerably smaller black sphere which crackled violently a moment before exploding in jagged bolts. Like lightening they struck and pierced the bullet, shattering it's power with the ease of his Magic Ruin. Amidst the tumult, Windsor reeled behind the torrent, his body steaming with power as the cobalt blood within him screamed through his veins. And in a final flash, the bullet was gone, leaving only the smoking form of the spell caster standing with hand outstretched.

Oddly enough, amongst the roaring crowd, there were suddenly a gathering cheer for the spell caster. Particularly from the section standing directly behind him who realized they very easily could have been killed just then. Much to Windsors surprise, he realized at that moment that he must have been doing something right. With a smile slowly spreading across his face and head bowed, the figure slowly moved, his blackened crosses peaking out to catch the gaze of the samurai directly across from him. In that instant, a new spell had been cast.

Immediately the scene seemed to change. Clouds above grew dark and heavy, quickly gathering to bring darkness into the stage. The crowd had grown silent as if stricken with death. Their faces completely void and mute. Windsors form grew darker in the shade, quickly becoming nothing more than a shadow trimmed in blood, two sets of eyes burning angrily in it's head. The creatures orange lenses were pushed up, masking the demonic orbs below as the shadows swarmed about it's outstretched hand before solidifying into a monstrous Grimscythe, cracking with veins of crimson power. Only the gentle laughter of a little girl drifted through the air at that moment as the beast moved silently through the air, blade ready to slice the man in two through his waist. To the samurai, the world had only grown darker. Everything from the arena's scent to the taste of the air remained normal. The shadow and it's scythe were real.

For the spell caster, however, he remained in position towards a corner of the arena, masked from the samurai's senses by his Alluring Gaze. The wizard knew what was happening to his opponent, and knew that despite it being nothing more than an illusion, it was an incredibly lethal one that didn't use the conventional magic of the spell caster. Instead, this was a power taken from a felled enemy. A power of supernatural ability. The crowd was now watching a most bizarre scene unfold.

The crowd is a fickle bitch, today.

These morons were within respectful reverence to Katana, had now become a cheering band of apes for the very man that sent an armadillo slamming into the stands. Katana could only shake his head as Windsor took a bow, it seemed even a wisecrack eluded Katana for this. Katana took off the top to his gourd by reaching over his shoulder, and dipped Sodom over his back into it, saturating the blade, dripping a large amount of the alcohol onto the threads he had extended from him to his foe.

I’m gonna give him a taste of the best alcohol he'll ever have... Katana thought, with a smirk. He and Windsor exchanged glances and for a moment the arena seemed to change, for a moment, but then Katana could see as bright as day, Gomorrah was doing it’s job in countering the confusion of his own good senses, after all, it was meant for this very task. It seemed magic wasn’t the only thing susceptible to Katanas amazing pair of swords. It was all a question of what sword did what, and how to get them away from him that could riddle his opponents thought, he could only imagine the frustration.

There it was, again; that vexing grin of Katanas. It was as if he hadn’t even noticed the illusion had been cast, or perhaps, in his eyes it wasn’t even there. The opposition moved perhaps closer to him? Katana stood there, blade drenched, hat tilted slightly down over his eyes. There was an awkward silence that was only made moreso by a lone girl’s giggle. Katana raised his head,

“Nice sickle ya got there, reaper, but I’m afraid my deathdate is gonna hafta call for a raincheck.” He stated, confidently, stancing himself, raising his right foot onto it’s toe, revealing the metal plating underneath his geta, left flat on the ground, sword tilted at a forty five degree angle so that the tip of his blade touched the bottom of his footwear, the geta. Katana looked for a moment and he squinted, taking note of the threads, it seemed his opponent had, of sorts, become his own sort of spool in his earlier transformation, and that the alcohol was leaking down the lines.

At this point Katana raised his left hand out, palm facing his opponent whom was floating like an apparition whom had his weapon ready to strike, “C’mon gramps, show me that it ain’t just for show.”

Cutting to the Chase

The illusion had been broken. Windsor already knew. This battle would not be won with those swords in play. The shadow of himself that had lunged forward in the facade quickly faded away into nothingness, with only the spellcasters small, built frame standing stoic across from the samurai. No energy could be felt this time; only a throbbing emptiness. With a single downward motion of his fist, Windsor called the Grimscythe into existence, it's form identical to the one displayed in the illusion. No girlish giggling came this time.

“C’mon gramps, show me that it ain’t just for show.”

'Snap!'

The spiky haired man seemed to vanish with nothing more than what sounded like the cracking of twigs and a ring of dust that had been raised in his absence. Only the sound of air rushing alerted the honed swordsman to the wizards presence directly above him.In a split second, Ashigaru watched the deranged reaper's blade split the very air and ground as Windsor fell back to the stadium floor. With scythe buried, a massive fissure opened before the corrupt blade as stone disintegrated and ripped straight into the stadium wall. The crowd was quick to respond in astonishment, only to realize the target of their praise had vanished again.

'Snap!'

Ashigaru had already slid across the stadium floor, catching a second glimpse of the attack that would have certainly split him in two had he remained in position. Again, he watched the spell caster disappear into thin air, this time reappearing directly in front of the samurai with blade crashing down once more, this time with less force to allow the swordsman a guard. Sword and scythe struck against each other in defiance. The two were locked in their slide towards the arena edge, with the samurai's sword biting into the crackling shaft of the Grimscythe, while its blade reached down to tear through Ashigaru's shoulder. The daemon-blade crackled and burned with ruinous power, still managing to sear the mans clothes without actually touching. Even the sword struck against the Grimscythe found it's very form being attacked by corruption and decay. It would quickly become evident that a prolonged struggle like this would only end in the samurai's eventual defeat and a grave loss.

"Come on, samurai!" the Gunslinger roared, his Dark Eboreous rising once more in open defiance of his swords anti fields, "This is what you wanted wasn't it? To prove your swords! Let's see how good you really are."

His voice twisted with the power bleeding out of him, as the deranged grin once again sought to split his head in two. Windsors skin streaked with blue as his Cobalt Blood fed the enormous wells of power being called out; his body burned black at the core and radiated crimson, tipped in gold tongues of liquid fire. The machinery infused to his body screamed with their own sapphire radiance. The monster was growing stronger and his corrupt fang growing closer, lashing out at the mans very body and soul. To make matters worse, another spirit was beginning to whirl and wind itself about the wizards form, protected and feeding off of the energy of it's master, still lying in wait, ready to give its life for the Crimson Bishop. Amidst the clash, the whirling gave strength to the spellcaster as blades of wind began to grow in intensity, lashing out at Katana. Each whirl created a cut in his garb, before growing into paper cut like wounds beneath the sliced fabric, threatening to grow stronger still and slice the man in two.

Windsor's very presence could turn everything against an opponent, and Katana was experiencing this in it's fullest. One could only wonder how much worse the natural world could turn against him. Those who were perceptive enough to see the wizards traps lying in wait, would be able to see six new ones hiding out in the open, masked from sight by the gift of invisibility. To those who watched and knew what lay just beneath the surface, would realize that this display of a power struggle was nothing more than a facade. The wizard of the Technocracy had much farther to go.

Well, Katana struck a cool pose, I guess that gives him brownie points, right? His opponent was fast, fast enough to catch Katana off-guard, The geezers pretty fuckin’ speedy He said, scrutinizing the stone that had disintegrated upon contact of the scythe. “What the…” he gasped while pulling the sheath out of his sash, holding it like an extra sword in his opposite hand. Katana’s eyes could keep up with Windsor better than the crowds; he skidded back, narrowly avoiding a swift slash that would have cut him in half. I think I’ve got his movement pattern down, now… Katana thought, and just as he did, Sodom clashed into the shaft of the scythe, while he crossed his arms over each other, the sheath catching onto the edge of the scythe.

The moment Katana’s two weapons caught onto the other’s scythe the mere pressure of the clash crushed a crater that was almost a third of the arena. Gomorrah own anti-aura raged fiercely against both the energies within the scythe, the peculiar windworks around Windsor, and even his own magical aura.

“Come on, samurai!” His opposition roared right in his face. “This is what you wanted, wasn’t it? To prove your swords! Let’s see how good you really are.”

“Gramps, you ain’t seen NOTHIN’, yet!” Katana said, and with that the metal plated geta crushed an additional layer of topsoil underfoot. The arena’s surface where they were standing was reduced to fine rubble, and the amount of chaos caused by the two was unparalleled, fitting of Katanas particular style. Every whirl from the wind, every bit of energy that his adversary presented was met by a metaphorical brick wall, that metaphysical brick wall by the name of Gomorrah, a weapon Katana hadn’t even drawn. The winds had caused minor cuts in his fabric, but were quelled, swiftly.

His opponent may have set multiple traps, ones that Katana didn’t even notice because they were invisible, but he had one very sturdy trap ready and waiting. Sodom began to pull the very energy from Windsor, himself, and from his scythe, absorbing it just as it had previously, where it could once again be transferred to Loyalty.

“Let me show you some real fuckin’ swordplay!” Katana said, pushing forward on the sheath, back on Sodom, striking it against the metal plates underneath his sandal-like footgear. The spark resulted in the ignition of the alcohol that katana had coated his sword with earlier, making it a blade surrounded by a blazing inferno. With one strong swipe katana slammed the blade back against the sheath, threatening to burn windsor to a smoldering crisp with the intense chemical-flames surrounding the blade.

“BURN, MOTHERFUCKER, BURN!!” Katana screamed, wildly.