Snippet #1856011

Jax

After shaking the individuals hand, Jax turned and was beginning to walk down the alley and back into the night. At that moment he felt a presence, but was too late to read it. He turned to see the man he had just met limp while standing, a black spear having been driven straight through his stomach. Jax grew wide eyed as the shrouded figure tossed the man to the side as if it were nothing, then pointed it at Jax with a killing aura that nearly crippled him where stood. "Du-" before Jax could utter another word, the blade of the spear was already at his face, as if it had been there from the beginning. Jax moved as fast as he could, the blade grazing the side of his cheek. "Dusk Dismantled!" Without even looking to find his opponent, he quickly started making his way up the fire escape of the nearby building. Making it to the top, he looked down the alley and saw nothing. Turning forward, the figure was standing there, as if to mock Jax. Jax something isn't right... Jax dropped down into a combat stance. "Path of Demons" A flame engulfed Jax's sword. He knew he could only defend. Attacking would mean a quick death. "What do you mean?" The figure attacked Jax, each hit grazing him slightly even with his strongest path in defensive stance. These are different from the figures that emerged out of the Black when my world was taken. Jax jumped onto the next building and the figure followed, each swing of its spear lacked its full power but was more than enough for the young man. The Black may be stronger here... I don't know. The figure stopped attacking, letting the tip of its spear rest on the cold concrete. With one scrap of the concrete, a spark was created that shot like lightning at Jax. "Crap! Path of Beasts!" The fighting stopped and there was silence.

Shrouded Figures
The figure held up its arm, a dozen chains blocking its figure from being touched by the flames. Its plan to catch him by surprise failed. Slightly tilting its head, the other entity dropped to the ground and moved behind the other, drawing a knife out of its person. It did not hold it like someone trained would, but how a noticeable amateur might. The front figure grabbed one of the chains and started to swing it, treating it much like a whip and aiming it at Kroy. It was obvious the one carrying the knife was more for support, and likely the cause for this colorless zone. With one massive swing, the front brought it toward Kroy, seemingly taking each try with a battle-ending intent.