[h1]A DIFFERENT QUOTE[/h1]
“[b]I could.[/b]” [b]Krü[/b] spoke, one hand reaching to draw a card to add to his hand. Six cards in total, his eyes regarding them for a brief moment before his gaze transfixed upon Beramode once more.

“[b]But I will not.[/b]” That is how [b]Krü[/b] remained so unknown.

[b]Krü[/b] places two cards face down, and two face up upon his mat.

“[b]I play Grave Mass, a terrain type card which means it can only be destroyed by spells and properties which affect terrain type cards. Grave Mass changes the terrain of the board to Unholy a terrain type preferred by the undead, and it will spawn a Pitiful Zombie once per round.[/b]” Pitiful Zombie is a card that is… Crap, to put it simply. It has no effects and it has little-to-no stats. [b]Krü[/b] places the spawned Pitiful Zombie in attack mode, before putting down another card. “[b]I play Zombie Knight in defence mode. With its ‘Taunt’ prefix, it is the only thing you can target with attacks and spells until it is removed, giving your ploy only one target.[/b]”

A beam of energy from the pulsar washed over them, a death sentence to any mortal — but not to these. As the searing light left, three ghosts had formed upon the arena forged from the tapestry of fate. One was little more than but a pile of flesh and bones, one was a zombie who could only crawl, and one final figure was a hulking beast forged from metal grafted upon rotting flesh.
[h1]EACH TIME[/h1]
Those who saw the nascent dreams of the world could see it fluctuate. A pulse of energy emanating from a sacred fetish held in David’s hands. The change was not something that impacted them directly, for they were of the living world — but it did impact their enemies. These zombies did not want to stay down, no matter how many bullets were pumped into them. They hobbled if they could not run, crawled if they could not walk, and even their disconnected limbs writhed if they had no body to connect to. Even the hand of what was once Juanito Deleto moved when the rest of the body was little more than splattered gore, grasping at Rodrigo’s ankle. It could not harm him, but the momentary weight was enough to slow him down as the inverted body gurgled and rasped in desperation. 

[color=0054a6]"You wound me,"[/color] Hector replied. [color=0054a6]"You look at all the magnificence I have built with my own two bloody hands and refer to it as a [i]trick![/i]"[/color]

[color=702963]"Careful, Brother. Do not let him provoke you—"[/color]

[color=0054a6]"Pah!"[/color]” A crystalline blue hand gave a dismissive wave. [color=0054a6]"It seems my new friend has more wisdom than the both of us, Rodrigo."[/color] Hector would have smiled, had he lips or any other flesh to smile with. The narco-lich instead made a gesture with his hand, as it directing something from the earth to come up, to rise.

[color=0054a6]"I shall leave you with a treat, instead. Something not so fragile".[/color] A metal hand rose from the earth,  and then another, sinking into the ground to pull a body from the ground. It was smaller than Juanito, but the strips of steel grafted to its flesh made it much more noteworthy. The figure stood like a parody of a knight, pulling forth a hunk of metal with both hands that acted as both shield and weapon.

[color=0054a6]"O Cavalerio! Give our guest a lesson in [i]hospitality.[/i]"[/color]
[h1]IS KINDA DIFFICULT[/h1]