Vexal's Story

Vexal was seen leaning against a wall, all the way to John's left. Nothing about him seemed special, and he didn't look very strong, physically anyways, and he was dressed pretty casually, even wearing a thin hoodie. Next to Vexal was a young girl dressed in the garb of a shrine maiden, who seemed to be resting as small, bright green embers danced around her, though they didn't leave any marks or burns.

When John had asked whether anyone was here or not, Vexal merely tapped his left foot lightly on the ground 3 times to answer the question without disturbing the girl next to him. If John would look at him, Vexal would open his right hand slowly, and then have his hand form what would be a grip on a one handed sword, though there was nothing but air.

Johnathan Benson turned as he heard the footstep, a curious wind now rushing closely around his limbs. It gave the bird-man an odd appearance, that of a shedding chick in which downy feathers stood on end. Some were shedding - the old, weak feathers being replaced by strong plumage. As he turned, he gripped his hilt and slid the sword out of its ring-sheath; or rather, he slipped the ring sheath off the sword. He eyed what appeared to be a newcomer, disturbed by what appeared to be a black face or lack thereof. "If it were not fear, I would no will to challenge it," he said definitively, voice piercing like a hawk's cry. His statement filled him with a sense of power, welcome adrenaline surging through his veins. His muscles twitched with anticipation and built-up energy.

Something unsettled the avian, though. His eyes and ears told him this stranger was in front of him, but the faint wind he grew up with remained stirred. A frown curved the sides of his beak, disappointed that this man took him for a fool. "You can start by showing your real self, warrior," he roared, looking feverishly around to try and pinpoint the assassin's real location.

Galen was truly impressed via the bird-man's brilliant perception. A shrill, boisterous laugh came from within the shadows as the illusion double faded out of the existence, and into the creator knows where. He slowly walked out from the shadows, applauding the man. Mr. Alder came to a stop just yonder of his adversary, keeping his distance as he did not know what he was capable of. Then, soon after the clapping, the laughing as well as the sound of his heavy food steps stopped all together.

"I am impressed, I am indeed. However, do not think of me as your foe. A foe I am not, as you are not on any of my contracts. I am just simply a man who wants to kill some time." He says, and as he does so, both of his hands disappear into the flaps of his long coat, and he pulls out two fairly large, dragon-tooth shaped daggers, holding on in each hand.

"I'm not here for blood, but please do try not to bore me Mr. Bird." He positions himself slightly crouching, left foot in front of the other. The stance he is comfortable with, leaning forward a bit, he holds the dagger in his left backhanded, the blade near his pinkie at eye level. The dagger in his right hand however, was held in a formal way, keeping it close to his mid section.

"Begin shall we?"

John turned again, eagle eyes flashing to where - finally - the air in the room moved. The longer feathers of his eyebrow bunched closer together. "You speak not in riddles. It is true, only a fool would throw his life away merely for a game," he said with confidence, turning his massive, 4 foot bastard sword 90 degrees in his hand like a tennis player would spin his racket. From the looks of it, it seemed Johnathan was capable of moving the long metal blade like a reed.

He crashed his sword and shield together to test their weight, an action that sent a steely ripple through John's body. The air around his entire body vibrated, and he wound his muscles tight for a moment, then slumped. Now he walked forward, arms and legs in a relaxed suspense as be slowly approached his opponent. He kept his sword pointed as his opponent's eyes to make it difficult to judge how close it was; as for his shield, he kept it hanging loosely to the front/left of him.

"Ready your talons."

Vexal loosened his 'grip' on the air. At first, he had felt like joining the fight with the bird-man and the assassin, but he knew enough to pick his battles, and the moment the bird-man had crashed his shield and sword together was the moment he knew this wasn't a fight he wanted to get into, even if lives weren't on the line.

Vexal turned back to the girl resting next to him on the floor and knelt beside her as the green embers slightly grew in size, and as they did so, the embers slowed their movement. If one were to pay attention, they were directly touching the girls clothing without setting the girl on fire. Vexal once again, turned to look at the two fighters.

"I hope you don't mind, but please, keep the fight over there."

Galen did not pay attention to the man and the girl sitting far off out of the battle zone. He carefully, and slowly inched his way towards Mr. bird.

"Haha, ready your talons? You sure have a funny way of speaking, Mr. Bird." Black-Comet then starts to increase his speed to a slow jog. However, he would not run directly towards his opponent, instead he would run off to the side, as if trying to run circles around him. And as he does, he starts rotating his right arm, as if turning a crank. As he did so, the right dagger blade began to separate from its hilt. The radius of the rotating blade gradually became bigger and bigger, until it was somewhat of like a shoge, lashing in the air like a whip. Attached by a thin, nigh invisible, yet strong metal cable that ran down into the hilt.

"Ask yourself." He says, his voice a little shaky from his slow jog in circles, yet still keeping his distance. "Would I really be doing this if I knew i was putting my life on the line? Call me arrogant if you'd like, but I see you as mere light work."

The lashing blade spins faster, and extends out longer. He then finally raises his arm over his head and spins it above him as if ready to attack. And he was just ready to do that. As his first assault, he swung the blade around swiftly and quickly to his right, aiming for the leg of the bird-man.

"Watch out!"

Johnathan was unperturbed by his opponent's taunt, he was too busy reading how his opponent moved and how the stranger handled his weapons. 'It detaches from its handle huh? Best assume the other can do that as well,' he reasoned, watching the whirling blade's length closely. John stopped walking towards his opponent and started shuffling his steps, scraping the floor beneath him with his talons as he edged closer to the man circling him.

"Ask yourself," the other man had said. "Would I really be doing this if I knew i was putting my life on the line? Call me arrogant if you'd like, but I see you as mere light work."

John's beak turned upwards in a predatory grin. "I wouldn't be able to soar if I were heavy."

Swift movement caught John's eye as his opponent raised his arm over his head as if to strike. John's keen binocular vision were able to detect the angle of attack easily, even while the blade dove toward him in a whistling crescent. A strike towards the leg.

He spread his left wing and lunged forward but two feet, widening his stance and shifting his left leg towards the wire the dagger was flung with. Not a moment later, it collided with his leg, the metal chord screeching as it wrapped around his metal bracers. The muscles on John's chest pulled taught, and his left wing beat forward viciously. What came after was nothing short of a hurricane: the massive wind generated from his stroke and and some otherworldly power propelled the left side of his body backwards. He pulled on the chord violently with his shin using the force generated by his wing and tailwind as a bracer for this action.

While his left side pulled back, he rotated counter clockwise, bringing his right side to the front of the fight. He used this rotation to fuel his further movements: the giant bastard sword lunged outward, ready to impale the man.

The wind seemed to barely face Galen as he had staggered backwards a bit, but then tugged forward a little with the tugging of the cable. It was not discernible, but Mr. Alder had a colossal grin behind that black void of a hood. The metal wire wrapped around his opponent was just perfect. But now was not the time to rejoice. The furious blade blade pouncing out at him. He decides to quickly evade, leaping to his right, barely escaping and getting a deep wound in his left arm.

"Can someone say fried chicken for dinner?" The faint cyan light on his powered breastplate began to bloom brightly. After, a high pitched sound of a charge of some sort, suddenly became audible. As if there were a defibrillator being charged up. The electricity began to travel from his breastplate, into his pauldron, through the wire connecting to his gauntlets, and finally the current traveled down the thin metal cable which he was holding that was wrapped around his unfortunate opponents leg. However, it was not a charge strong enough to kill any living being, just enough to shock ones nerves, and maybe paralyze them. He purposely did this to avoid using too much charge, thinking he might need his swords ability for later on. He had hoped this would be his final assault, unless his opponent had another surprise waiting.

John was slightly taken aback, he had tugged on that cable firmly. It didn't yank his opponent forward, or fly out of his grip. Whatever mechanism inside the hilt that controlled the length of the cable must have either broken or given some slack. It was no matter, as his sword managed to find some flesh to bury itself in. As his opponent darted towards John's left John pulled back on his sword and bent his elbow outward, ready to turn his arm and whip his bastard sword inward for another strike.

"Can someone say fried chicken for dinner?" the other man spoke.

John squinted his eyes as the cyan light on the man's armor lit up. He dared not waste valuable time, and swung inward with his sword. Normally, a normal man's chest did not have the muscular power needed to deliver a strike starting from an outstretched arm. Johnathan, on the other hand, had a taught chest wound strong from flight. The sword arced inwards at a whistling pace, lanced along by John's powerful arms.

The air around the combatants chirped in protest to some sort energy, and then it struck him. Had John been wearing leather or cloth armor he might have faltered, but the solid aluminum bracer on his shin conducted the charge to its boots, which then conducted the charge to the ground. The Aluminum bracer wailed in protest to being used as a vessel for electrons, heating up and singing his feathers. The insulating power of his feathery prevented him from being burned, but it irked him that his plumage was tainted.

"Cursed lightning," he scowled.

Galen back flipped away from the rampaging, whistling blade, and as he did he flicked the buttons on the abnormally thick grip of the dagger hilt upwards to unlock it's mechanism, so that it would not stop him from making his rather agile evasion. Kneeling down, he locked it again, as the bird-man cried out. Furiously cursing the lightning.

"Sorry, but I don't have time to play anymore. Another time, perhaps." And as he says so, he aggressively tugs on the line a few times, the line untangling itself from the mans bracer, and retracting in back into it's hilt quickly. Galen stood back up, tucking the daggers back into the inside flaps of his long coat, and began his series of backhand springs back into the shadows in which he came. And as his figure disappeared in the darkness, his presence seem to depart with him, leaving the winged creature, the boy, and the girl.

It was by some miracle that John's blade missed, the 4 feet of steel whiffed in front of him; John's chest muscles burned from the attempted strike, and Galen's legs must have felt the same - if not worse - avoiding it. His sword arm returned to its starting position as if recuperating, and he brought his shield in front of him, entering a defensive position. John hadn't used his shield yet - there was no need until now.

"Sorry, but I don't have time to play anymore. Another time, perhaps."

The dagger loosely wrapped around his left leg jostled and broke free, returning to the hilt it called home. 'What strange apparitions accompany this man,' John wondered, looking at his opponent's left arm as it faded into darkness. John seemed slightly disappointed, but slightly worn as well; it was the kind of feeling a runner had during his first mile of a marathon. Heat radiated from his body and feathers.

He carefully stowed his bastard sword in its sheath, then turned towards the two at the side of dojo. He nodded towards them. "What winds have brought you two here?"

The light green flames around Tsukibaiacchi came to a stop and faded out once Galen had announced that he would be departing, and the girl awoke, slowly getting up on her own two feet. She was too tired to have realized that John had just asked her a question.

Vexal folded his arms with the left arm over the right arm and smiled, glad that John wasn't hostile and the fighting was over, for now at least. The question had also sounded a little funny to him.

"What winds? I'm sorry, but I'm not sure what I mean by that. Though if I were to take a guess, I guess you mean our reasons. Well, you could say we don't have any reason to be here, I just thought it'd be safer for her to rest in here, rather than outside. Anyways, I'm Vexal, and the girl here is Tsukibaiacchi, though feel free to just call her Tsuki."

Tsukibaiacchi stretched both of her arms outward and up into the air as she analyzed John while Vexal answered his question. She could tell he looked slightly worn, and guessed in her head that whatever had made him use up energy, happened in the dojo while she was resting up. Despite her interest about a bird-man existing in the room, she didn't say anything to him

John spread his wings again, stirring up a current of air that blew what little dust remained from the floor. His wings lay apart, and he did so seemingly to cool himself. He stored his shield on his back now, relieving his left arm from the weight of the heavy steel disc. "Why would you take rest in this shadow of a building?" His talons clamped onto the floor beneath his feet, breaking the old-wooden boards. "It is falling apart like clouds near a mountain."

John looked around the room now. It seemed like months since someone was last here. The Arena was just as old, but at least it was outside in open air. This dojo, however, was a safety hazard.

Vexal began walking towards the exit signalling Tsukibaiacchi to follow him. "Personally, I'm not too worried. The building can support the two of us, but with your strength added with the weight of those tools of yours, it's only obvious that the place would begin to fall apart." Vexal commented as he turned around to check if Tsukibaiacchi was following him.

Tsukibaiacchi slowly walked towards Vexal after he had turned around, though she kept her eyes on John. "Is there any reason your here? I don't see why someone would enter a place they'd only complain about." Tsuki asked and then looked to where Vexal was, only to see him walk out of the dojo.

John nodded, the feathers on his neck ruffling up in response. "Aye, but it is not us the building needs to support, but itself. We are on the floor, though I should not rule out the possibility of a basement." The avian gestured toward the walls ribbed with support beams, large talons pointing at the cracked wood and rusted metal. "It is these I am worried about. Had I been standing on the roof it might have mattered. Besides," he argued, now gesturing to his equipment and body, "I must remain light to fly."

"As for why I'm here, I was told by those that still frequented the arena of a Dojo in Wing City." John lifted his right hand upwards, clenching it to listen to the leather groan between his fingers. "I have come to test my mettle against what this city has to offer." He didn't lose nor win the last bout, but at least he landed a solid strike. He drew his wings inwards until they formed a tower of feathers behind him, then walked towards the door along with the other girl and boy. "But since it is empty, there is no use being here. I have other winds to catch. What of you?"

Tsukibaiacchi shook her head and mumbled lowly enough so that Vexal wouldn't be able to hear her, but clear enough so that John would be able to hear. "Sometimes, I think he's too easy-going to care if a building would come crashing down." Tsukibaiacchi said as a half joke as she walked out soon after Vexal did while still deciding to talk to John. "We're honestly new here. I think we got here shortly before you arrived? I know I wasn't training long."

Tsuki tapped the medalllion hanging around her neck and a green fire enveloped her right hand and solidified into a glove starting at the fingertips as she let out a smile. "He always calls it sleeping, but really, I'm just training in my own little world."

John let out a huff of air, as if laughing for a mere moment. "Where there are clouds you must watch for rain, be sure to be careful," John joked. The building did not look imposing to him even if it was collapsing - he had the kind of strength to escape from rubble if needed. It was more an aesthetics issue. The stone temples of his hometown were better equipped to withstand the test of time unlike wood.

He had not noticed they were here until they spoke from the corner, but he did not pay them much attention until the fight was over. Did they really just arrive? The girl was asleep the last time he glanced during the fight. Stepping outside, he watched as the girl's hand was enveloped in emerald fire, phasing from a plasma to a solid mere moments after. Is that what she was doing? Training while sleeping? Dreams? It reminded him of life as a hatching. "You must take care when implementing your training. Do not aim for the farther branch when you can only glide to the nearest one. Mind and wing must be trained simultaneously."

Tsuki ended up giving John a confused look by the time he had ended his mini-speech. "Farther...branch? Mind and wing?" The glove Tsuki had made slowly dissipated as she tried to think about what John said, only to get even more confused, and she couldn't hide it even if she wanted to. "I don't think I get what you mean. Does everyone here talk like that, or just you?" Tsuki questioned him while she turned to face the wooden structure. The wood did look pretty worn now that she looked at it closely enough.

Suddenly, light footsteps could be heard approaching the building, as a strange woman appeared nearby. "Well... I thought this was a dojo, not preschool..." came the voice of the newcomer, her statement punctuated with a teasing lilt, as she stepped forward, her outfit revealing her slim, yet athletic build, her hair done in a peculiar style, and her eyes showing no sign of a conscience... well... her left eye seemed to be a little weird... BUT STILL. She glanced at the people outside the building, clearly unimpressed.

The corners of John's beak turned upwards as if he was amused. "Uh... do not attempt something you are physically not capable of doing. Even matters of the mind can have some effect on the body, be it stress, soreness, and strains," he spoke, trying to translate avian phrases and parables. "Do not limit yourself to the nearer branch, however. Sometimes you must work a wing till it fails for it to become stronger. Take-off with utmost confidence, do not hold back any stroke!" It seemed he couldn't help himself. "It is far too easy for a hatchling to dream of draft under his feathers, but once he looks downward at the ground below he will be humbled."

John turned towards the newcomer for a moment, before seeking the inquisitive eyes of the youth once more. "Do you understand?"