Roen vs Tenkai

Stage0: Preliminaries

The Things Fox Hates Dojo

I think they may do Taekwondo here, and hey, is that a picture of John Cena?

A fighting arena of classical proportion, though those proportions don't have to be exactly defined. As long as the dojo has four walls, a roof and a floor, we're good with whatever size you decide on. The decor of course is just what you'd picture from an old kung-fu movie.

Terrain

General - Regular indoor floor, as interrupted occasionally by a mat for padding.

Weapons - One picture of John Cena.

Bonus Effects - Across the street one can occasionally hear mariachi music from the all night restaurant.

Red Player: Roen Jaeger

Representing: Team Cannon Fodder

Played By: Roen Jaeger

Blue Player: Tenkai Matsumoto

Representing: Team Resolution

Played By: Tenkai Matsumoto

Dramatic or peaceful? Dramatic or peaceful? Which would have the most effect? What would scare him more? Oh, It's been so long since I have had to think about first impressions..

A pause; a questioning as it were that followed the lull of thoughts. Then the clinks of mail would resound from outside of the Dojo followed suite by the sliding of the door. Nox would have known, the Devil finally mused as he revealed himself to the one who had gathered for this preliminary fight. Chest rising and falling with the dramatic motions of one who drew in a deep breath and released it, the Devil stepped inside and slid the door shut behind him.

" Hello, " he would say on an even tone, deep set garnet hues immediately peering over the rim of sun-glasses darkened pitch black to regard the monk on the floor. " Sorry about the wait. " Raising one hand up and grabbing the hilt of the World Splitter, Hræðilegr, the Devil would waste little time in divesting himself of its weight. The cord about his chest would break and with a sudden plop, its pathetic leather sheath would hit the floor in a crumpled mass. The obsidian colored blade would be unadorned by the time the Devil brought it about, his wrist twisting so that he could stab the tip of the sword into the ground.

" Much better. " The Devil would announce, idly shifting his shoulders to both cause the chain-mail links beneath his long greatcoat to clink as well as loosen up whatever muscles might have stiffened during his journey here. Once finished, his right hand would go to the opening of his jacket and pull it towards the side, revealing the wire-wrapped hilt of his secondary weapon. Stepping past Hræðilegr and using his left hand to grab the hilt of Nigeralo, the hand-and-a-half sword, the Devil would unsheathe it with the authority of a warrior. Once drawn, the Devil would flourish it at his side with a negligent flick of the wrist (its iridescent black blade shimmering in the light) and proceed to notch its tip in the soft matting beneath, stopping but a few feet before the monk.

" Get up, mon fils, I would not strike a man before he is ready for battle. "

[ 1/10 ]

" Aye, " was all the Devil would say upon the matter. Tenkai had taken the defensive stance, and that suited the Devil just fine. He expected nothing less from the samurai, as well as his (hopefully) future opponents. The Devil flourished the hand-and-a-half sword at his side once more and brought it up and above his head as he approached Tenkai, his right hand finding its place near the pommel of the blade for added leverage and elbows bent for added fluidity of movement - a high guard. The last step took him but two feet in front of Tenkai before he shifted his footing no more, his left foot remaining stationary while his right planted forward. From there, it was simple. No waiting. No patience. The Devil wanted to test this Monk's mettle through the song and dance of blades.

Relaxing his grip upon the wire-wrapped hilt of Nigeralo, the Devil would begin his assault on Tenkai's person. Effectively pulling back on the bottom of the hilt while simultaneous pushing forward near the cross guard, the Devil would send the edge of his b*****d sword down and towards Tenkai's cranium, aiming to mix bone, blood, and brains with the obsidian metal of his blade. A death-blow to be sure, but certainly meant to test Tenkai's skill. His right foot had planted itself a few inches further with the attack and the Devil's chest leaned forward somewhat to put the required strength and speed into his deadly blow.

[2/10]

There was no inner praise towards Tenkai's tenacity; no idle thoughts of That was impressive, or Damn, I should have thought of that. Only the realization that he could not rely on strength alone to best the Samurai Monk before him. His downward stroke was stopped dead in its tracks to his not-so-apparent surprise and as he gauged Tenkai, who moved to the Devil's left flank before him, for his reaction, he dreadfully noted that there was not a hint of strain written across his features. Instead he was met with only the grim disposition of concentration. Blast it all, this was not an ordinary human. The tension from the Devil's arms relaxed as he fueled the opposition of his blade against Tenkai's sheath no more, just in time to see the glint of metal and the flicker of movement there of. The monk was finally drawing his blade, and here the Devil was, his entire person below the arm pits exposed to whatever retaliation Tenkai had in store.

Like a well oiled machiene of war, the Devil pressed on. He was acutely aware that Tenkai had an attack for him, but he had no time to properly gauge it and counter-attack - only time to press on. So with he taking the battle to Tenkai, who the Devil subconsciencely noted was not throwing himself into the fray but rather fighting at a distance, the Devil's leg would narrowly miss impalement. Removing his planted left-foot and stepping forward and into Tenkai's personal bubble, the tip of the Samurai's blade would whistle past the Devil's trousers and instead cut neatly through the flapping fold of the Devil's greatcoat, piercing through the thick stitching, riveted mail, and out again. The act alone would produce an alarming screech of metal running along metal, but the Devil paid no mind.

Removing his right hand from the pommel of his weapon and angling the point of Nigeralo away and towards the right, the Devil would reach and grab the blade of his weapon bare-handed and angle the pommel directly towards the side of Tenkai's head. With reckless abandon for his own safety, the Devil would aim the peen block of Nigeralo and thrust it towards the side of Tenkai's unprotected head right above the ear. Should the Devil's crushing blow succeed, both parties would be wounded. Tenkai, by having a block of metal come crashing into the side of his head with the full intent and purpose to split it open, and the Devil for the impact would jar his blade forward within his tight-grip and effectively slice neatly through his sword-calloused palm and respective digits of his fingers.

[3/10]

The sweet resounding thud of metal against flesh. Granted, it wasn't the full strength of the blow - Tenkai was as wily as they came with defensive maneuvers, and the Devil was having a hard time keeping up. But as of this very moment, the Devil broke through half of his defenses, marginally as it may had been. It went to show that Tenkai wasn't the epitome of perfection. However, the Devil could not savor his blow for it was indeed short-lived. Tenkai appeared to be unfazed by the strike against his head but the Devil was already feeling the repercussions of his stunt. Millions of pain-sensors screamed at the Devil to release his hold about the edges of his weapon, both now coated in a fine sheen of blood. More then he would have liked to feel slipping along his fingers and palm. The terse grip of his hand lessened to a degree, but the fight wasn't over. Where in the nine hells did Tenkai get this mind-boggling relentless pace? It dumbfounded the Devil to see Tenkai so quick about the task of slipping away from the Devil, apparently undaunted by the blow (as small as it was) to the head. No pause, no recollection, just the pace.

The pace of a well oiled machiene of battle. The thought of the similarity would have caused a smile of mirth to spread across his lips where it not for the fact that he slit his hand open. There would instead be a deep scowl written across his face. One of immense displeasure and devoid of any entertainment. This was changing from a pleasurable test of mettle to an annoying fight. The only thing that comforted the Devil, however, was the fact that he was keeping Tenkai on the defensive. It went to show how far his ignorance went, he completely oblivious to the blade that was slipped between his legs.

All the Devil knew instead was that blasted Monk-Samurai was on the move again, and he forgot to pull his sword out of the Devil's jacket. In retaliation to this, and the Devil wanting to fight someone who was infront of him and not dancing around his flanks, the Devil would proceed with another risky venture - throwing aside his well being for that sweet-spot he's been craving. Both grips (the one on the handle of his weapon and the one around the blade of it) tightened. Tenkai was spinning in complexity, dragging his sword around beneath the Devil, and generally being far more technical then needed. The Devil? What was that word that junky used? Ah yes. " Fierfekking- " The Devil just wanted to sheathe his blade into Tenkai's body.

A feral snarl of hostility spread across the Devil's face as he twisted his torso and head to the right to watch as Tenkai moved, his sword following suite, all in simultaneous movement with Tenkai's spinning technique around his person. And just as the Samurai's vorpal blade would begin ripping through the thick fabric of the Devil's jacket, through the riveted chain-mail beneath, even more fabric, and through his trousers and initial layers of skin, a full foot or so of bleeding obsidian colored metal would whistle through the air. A very sharp and pronounced point aimed at a downward angle towards Tenkai's back just as his blade exited from between the Devil's legs and his feet planted firmly on the ground. Oh the searing pain. Though Tenkai's blade was designed to wound most those of the demonic supernatural like, the blade could not deny the evil within the Devil. Reacting to it, the blade would produce a burning pain that was most unnatural.

This pain was transferred into the Devil's vocal cords as he finished the last of his two word sentence, the tip of his blade nearing Tenkai's back as he spat out the word, 'Monk', with all the venom he could possibly summon. A kidney, a lung, or even his guts - the Devil wanted to impale something.

[4/10]

A deep rumble of pain emanated from deep within the Devil's chest as Tenkai divested Muramasa from between his legs, the gleam of flesh blood running along the blade catching his eye as his footing followed suite with the twist of his torso. Vitae had been drawn from both parties, but the Devil knew he had suffered the worse in the exchange. Slowly but surely, as Tenkai put distance between the two of them, the Devil removed his blood-soaked hand from the edges of his blade and examined the damage there of. The meat between the first and second digits of his four fingers had been neatly slit open and the heel of his palm had suffered the same fate. Flexing the fingers slowly to ensure he did not cut so deep, the Devil appeared satisfied even as steady droplets of blood stained the matting beneath him. It was surely an impairment, but it was not a complete loss. His leg, however, was an entirely different story.

A string of curses were aimed at Muramasa under his breath as the blade's sting persevered, the steady burning sensation causing much alarm and anxiety to course through the Devil. Acid? Poison? Urgh, It felt as if the meat of his thigh was being dissolved. A wayward glance was given to his left leg to ensure that it was not. No chemical smoke. This did little to put the him at ease however. His worry was short lived though for the Monk was ready. The moment of rest to collect themselves was over, and the Devil watched as Tenkai circled around and towards his right flank. Grimacing, the Devil attempted to shift his weight upon the balls of his feet. To his dissatisfaction, his thigh quivered under the full weight of his person. There would be no quick movements for the Devil unleashed he wished for additional pain.

Chest rising and falling with the dramatic motions of one drawing in a deep breath and releasing it, the Devil would flourish Nigeralo at his side and hold it thus while he followed Tenkai's movements albeit with struggle. He did this to ensure that they remained face-to-face and toe-to-toe in their sparse two and a half feet from one another. Left foot foward to move periodically and his right foot behind to drag his body in the motions to keep his chest facing Tenkai, the Devil controlled his anger properly to gauge the situation. Speaking to Tenkai, the Devil talked to bide his time.

" You still insist on dancing, " he said evenly, peering over the rim of his maladjusted shades to regard Tenkai with a sense faux apathy. Nigeralo's tip was brought up to the same level as the Samurai's Muramasa, the two blades crossing. The Devil found it amusing to see Tenkai's blood on Nigeralo and his own blood on Muramasa, evenly meshing into one another as their swords touched. To bide more time, the Devil brought these thoughts to light. Smirking softly as his right hand clenched, he would continue. " Laughter. Would you think us blood-brothers should we cut into one another again? " Brows arched and the Devil applied abit more pressure against Tenkai's weapon while the Monk circled about him. " Devil and Monk, tainted by the blood of the other. Sounds like something out of Legend, would you not think so? " He ran through the various schemes and the outcomes of them all, but the Devil had to conclude that attack would not work in his favor. Tenkai was faster, both of skill and of blade, while the Devil was impaired in both his hand and leg. Tenkai's counter measure would surely be prepared for, but he was not able bodied to properly defend against it - especially if he was caught mid lunge or swipe. He was sure he would suffer a wound he probably would not get up from.

Decisions, decisions. Nothing about the situation appeared all too appealing. Reaching his mangled right hand up and clasping the wire-wrapped grip of Nigeralo, the Devil clentched tightly in a vain attempt to dissuade some of the bleeding while giving added leverage over his weapon. The calm before the storm. The Devil felt it and was exhilarated by it. Would the next exchange of blows incapacitated either of them? Would they come together for another flurry before departing for another brief respite before yet another clash? Oh, it made his blood boil. The anger he had felt previously had subsided into a dull ache in the back of his mind and in its stead was only a compelling sense of excitement - the warrior's battle high. " Come, " The Devil would say, shifting his grip upon Nigeralo. The iridescent blade shimmered, and he couldn't help but smirk some more. " Such a lovely aesthetic trait your blood gives to it.. Laughter. "

[5/10]

Working towards a retort towards Tenkai's words, the Devil came to realize that the time for the spoken word was now passed and they would instead descend into the depths of swordplay to convey. No more thoughts of the articulate nature, no more words with twisted meanings and false-truths, only the simplicity of the fight. Like a subtle switch, the light in the Devil's head shut off and he gave himself over to the instinct of war. What followed was a deep haze of confusion and a blur of movement, both on his part and Tenkais's, which the darkened one himself was only vaguely aware of. He was the author of his intent, but so used he was to the technique of blade-on-blade, it was second nature to for the body to act.

Tenkai lunged, but the Devil never ceased to move. He kept the tip of his weapon perfectly aligned with the center of Tenkai's throat. He would have thrusted and pierced the hollow of the Monk's throat right then and there to show how stupid he was for driving himself towards the Devil with the blade inbetween them, but hesitation stayed his hand. Fear that should Tenkai evade, the Devil would be over extended, and the Samurai would gut him where he stood. His reserve paid off. No sooner had Tenkai lunged and parried Nigeralo out of his path, the Devil had begun to haul the obsidian colored weapon in the very direction Tenkai had hoped to push it. Simultanious with the movement, the Devil pulled back on the weapon, effectively whipping the blade to the side, back, and over his head. The grind of the wire-wrapped hilt hurt the lascerations in his hand, but the wounds paled in comparrison to the sheer battle-high he was experienceing at this point in time.

No mind was paid to the Katana which sought his chest, or his arms which could very well be in the way. The riveted links of his chainmail would handle the sharp-in-the-extreme edge of Tenkai's weapon, and while the Devil my bruise beneath, and many of the links would be damaged, there would be no laceration. Tenkai, on the other hand, had more problems to deal with then simply attacking the Devil. With Nigeralo whipped over his head with all the momentum that it brought with it, the Devil would bring the obsidian edge of the blade down and above the elbow of Tenkai's half-extended left arm. Shameful as it was to say, the Devil wished he had a Katana right now. With the finer edge and Tenkai's arm laid bare, the blow would have easily severed the limb. And what a bloody mess that would have been! But oh well, Nigeralo would do. The sweet knowledge of mixing blood, bone, and metal was all he would need anyway. And who knows? Maybe he would get lucky and be given the pleasure of hearing the thud of a limb hitting the ground.

Mmmm...

[6/10]

Tenkai was fast. Faster then the Devil could have predicted. And with that underestimation came impalement, the very thing the Devil hoped to avoid by taking the defensive position. Tenkai hobbled away as quickly as he could and in turn, with the last push of that blissful battle-high, the Devil brought his blade down with all of his strength, renting open what flesh lied before the bite of Nigeralo. Beads of blood were left in the wake of the Devil's obsidian weapon as he rented Tenkai from the junction between his neck and left shoulder and down his sternum before he was finally out of reach. Staggering foward, the Devil nearly pitched over and onto his side were it not for the tip of his blade notching into the soft matting before him. Catching himself and driving his blade deeper into the ground, the Devil used it as a crutch to hold himself up as his legs buckled beneath. He couldn't gauge the extent of the wound on the offshoot of his stomach, but he knew it bled. He could feel the insides of his jacket becoming moist.

Deep set garnet hues regarding the pristine floor at his feet while his right hand divested itself sluggishly from the pommel of his weapon, instead reaching inside and touching at the thin line that belittled the depth of his wound. Was he being defeated? It certainly felt that way. His hand ached, his leg throbbed, and now he was acutely aware that he could very well bleed to death if he pushed himself too hard. But what of Tenkai? Peering up and looking towards the Samurai, the Devil wondered if he too would be on his last legs? Oh, what the Devil would do to be blessed with the sight of Tenkai doubling over and hitting the ground. But instead he thought of himself just closing his eyes and hitting a mat well cushioned for his descent. Such a lovely thought, the Devil mused. This was just a competition, not a fight for survival. He had nothing to prove to himself or anyone else. It would have been simple for the Devil to bend his pride enough to say he was bested by someone of greater skill. Yet..

I am not an innocent bystander. I am a threat to my enemy. I am powerful and cunning. I am strategic and bold. I will not sit idly by. I will take ground; I will advance. I will tear through my enemy and my enemy will hate me. I will not avoid the difficult fight.

He shut his eyes. The prayer. The pledge. Chanted around him in the disembodied voices as he stood before that bloody alter with the pool of crimson vitae before it. Hræðilegr on the flat of his hands, he gave his word and fealty. He gave his mind and body. His Goddess. He opened his eyes once more and found meaning to rise. He couldn't staunch the bleeding by will alone, for that act was beyond him, but his raging heart had slowed. His mind was clearing, and he slowly relinquished his hold from Nigeralo which fell to the ground. The Gregorian music, non-existent in the Dojo he fought in, filled his mind with its mingling chorus of the words spoken from all around. The Devil was slowly straightening and rising to his full stature, his bloodied right hand slipping out of his jacket.

I will fight; I will be wounded. I will be targeted and I will bleed. I will not tire; my wounds will heal. I will see tragedy. I will feel pain.

Vivid was the sight in the Devil's head. Corbin, Iden, Dagoth, and she. The grin he held previously with such vigor had lessened to the slight of a smile as he turned his back to Tenkai. He was a DeSeer in all but name, maybe he should start being one. His vision flickered, he grew cold, but there was a kindling flame in the innermost core of his being. And it was growing bigger as he walked. This might have been a preliminary match. This might have been a competition. But that didn't matter. This is where he would set the bar! This was where the Legend will begin! She would be satisfied yet. Reaching up and gazing longingly at the hilt before him, the Devil reached up and wrapped his sword-calloused palm and finger tips around the metal grip of Hræðilegr - The World Splitter. The Devil's Perceptions flooded into the weapon unopposed, and in turn the Psyker sword flooded into him its strength. Its vitality. Its energy. The Devil relished its gifts, for he knew they would not last.

But I will be restored! My feet will not stumble. My hands will hold fast. I will not be intimidated!

Pulling the giant World Splitter out of the ground in an awkward fashion with his left hand, the Devil would twist his wrist and set its keen edge on the junction between his shoulder and neck. Once again he turned around to face Tenkai, wherever he may be, while his 'baptism' played through his head.

I cannot be stopped!

" I cannot be stopped.. "

I will stand by my brothers in arms!

" I will stand by brothers in arms.. "

I will fight until my last breath!

" I will fight until my last breath.. "

I will push the limits!

" I will push the limits.. "

I scale the mountains!

" I scale the mountains.. "

My enemy will cower!

" My enemy will cower..! "

" For I serve the Bloody Seer! "

With the World Splitter still on his shoulder, the Devil raised his right hand up and grabbed the bottom of its grip, adjusting it mildly to ensure a proper hold . Closing the distance between he and Tenkai to a reasonable five feet, and tightening the grip upon Hræðilegr, the Devil finally begun removing the blade from his body. Twisting his torso and planting his right foot before him firmly into the ground, the Devil swung with all of his might and the might his weapon afforded him. It was broad, ill-thought of, and entirely predictable - like a baseball swing - but it was damn quick, powerful, and fully capable of slicing Tenkai in half should the blade be unopposed.

I come not to bring peace, but a Sword. - Christ.

[7/10]

Hræðilegr over shot its target! Of all the--!

Steadying the World Splitter at his right flank, the Devil cocked his head and regarded the Samurai Monk who was now rising up while bringing Muramasa upwards in a cleaving arc. Why the hell was he shouting obscenities at the Devil in a language he couldn't even understand?! Wrapping his hands tighter around the wire-wrapped hilt of Hræðilegr, the Devil stepped forward--clink What now? A wayward glance was given towards the ground at the Devil's feet to take notice of the previously discarded Nigeralo, its black blade gleaming cherry red with the blood of Tenkai on it. No more mind was paid to it as the Devil looked back up to note Tenkai had sliced cleanly through the air which had apparently affronted him. Maybe the Samurai had lost too much blood to see coherently, for the Devil was well outside his attacking boundaries.

It wasn't the Devil's nature to attack a disoriented opponent, but he already learned his lesson. He wasn't going to chance anoth--the matting was being ripped up by an invisible force?! How many tricks did Tenkai have under his sleeve?! He was definately not going to give Tenkai a chance now. Angling Hræðilegr at his right flank, the Devil tucked his arms in, twisted his torso to the right, and swung once again, his arms snapping out as he once again swung wildly towards Tenkai while cutting loose a cry of war. It was then, and only then, that the Devil began feeling the dreadful burn of Tenkai's attack. And it was truly agonizing as he felt it engulf his fingers, then his hand, then his wrist, then..nothing. The spiritual arc touched the sword which lay discarded at the Devil's feet and was immidiately dispelled by the gem embedded in its pommel.

It saved the Devil's body, but his hands..his hands went limp. And in mid-swing, that only meant one thing - the grip upon Hræðilegr wained and slipped from his finger tips. The Devil's war cry turned into a grunting scream of pain as Hræðilegr flew from his incapable hands, flung towards Tenkai's flank. Reeling, the Devil was flabberghasted as to what had happened.

[8/10]

Bereft of the World Splitter and the strength it afforded him, Tenkai's goal was realized albeit in a different manner. Raising his right arm and pressing the both burning and mutilated hand against the wound in his abdominal, the Devil would take a step back and away from the Samurai Monk. Unfortunately enough, fatigue set in and took the remaining fortitude of the Devil's left leg. Grimacing as his knee buckled beneath his weight, the darkened one shifted his weight to keep him from stumbling over. What now.. He mused. His side and leg burned with the holy wrath of Tenkai's blade, while the Monk's spiritual aura itself took its toll on his hands. Flexing his finger tips and grunting, the Devil could hardly make a competent fist without making his hands burn even more. Reaching down and grabbing Nigeralo..hell, the thought of even moving that far was unappealing.

Raising his deep set garnet hues to look upon the likewise exhausted Tenkai, the Devil perked his eyebrows. Where did his sword go, he wondered. Everything happened so fast, and he was so preoccupied with his hands, he hadn't paid any mind to where Muramasa went. The fact that Tenkai survived the swing didn't even cross his mind - the Monk's tenacity was so great, it didn't surprise him. Looking away and gazing about, the Devil found the Katana. It was embedded in the picture of someone who didn't really look all that familiar. He paused, cocked his head, and pursed his lips. Why did he find that so amusing? Looking towards Tenkai and giving just the lightest of chuckles, the Devil lifted his chin in a sharp nod to indicate his desire for the Monk to look behind him.

Whether he did or not, it wasn't really important. He just wanted to share the good humor, that's all. Looking back at the John Cena picture and smiling all the wider, the Devil's chuckles soon turned into hearty laughter. And that hearty laughter soon turned into pained groans. " It burns. " He said, his head turning inward as he cringed visibly. The hand on his abdominal pressed even tighter into his side. " Ugh.. " Shifting his dangling left arm and giving it a light rattle, a metallic cylinder slipped out of the Devil's sleeve. A CQC Peskett Antique was revealed. The Devil made no move to wrap his hand around it but rather let it dangle for the time being. No need to hurt his hand anymore yet.

" Ehh..just alittle longer.. "

[9/10]

Aye.

Cold, tired, and in desperate need of medical attention, the Devil didn't even bother acknowledging Tenkai's words. If the Preliminary Match was over, there wasn't much else he was supposed to do other then head on home. Which was exactly what he was going to do. To hell with Nigeralo and the World Splitter, he'd come back for them later. Stepping past Tenkai without even a lingering look, the Devil hobbled out of the Dojo.

Homeward bound. Game over.

[10/10]