Name: The Moschet Museum

Size: Outside arena floor space is 50 x 60 feet wide covered by mountains that reach for miles, indoors is a 120x60 feet hall

Properties: The outdoor arena has destructible stone structures and is always night time, the indoors has rickety upper level platforms and a large pit at the end of the museum, this pit is endless. Other than the mountain the Arena is fully destructable. You will start in the outdoor arena and the large entrances seen in the image will lead you to the main part of the museum. The interior structure of the Museum is mainly very dry wood which is fairly flammable, if a large enough fire is started, the whole building will burn down.

Player Capacity: up to 6 players can fight here.

Description :





Flavour Text: The Moschets were a very dangerous but powerful and famous married couple, they were rumored to be demons and had large enough egos they kept all their most prized possessions in a grand museum in a mountain construct. They were later killed by witch hunters, and the museum was vandalized on numerous occasions. But every so often the spirits of the Moschets will come to watch duels between powerful warriors in the place they were once so proud of.

Dark shadows cast themselves over the rocky surface of the mountainside, as abusive rays of constant heat rained down from the midday sun above. Cool only due to the altitude, it wasn't cold enough for the man perched on a stone in the shade, a knapsack at his feet and a canteen set beside him as he nibbled on the food in his hand. For him, today had been a long, grueling day, the hike started near dawn and continued until now. It was... strenuous, to say the least. Taking a moment to pause, his eyes scaled up the cliffside that faced him, before wondering down the general path he was following. A frown quickly appeared on his face. It didn't look good, really. A bunch of rocks and steep slopes, loose gravel along the way... It wasn't going to be easy. Shaking his head slightly, his gaze swiveled to stare at the protein bar he was munching. At least he had the energy. With a quick movement, he bit into the source of satisfaction, before he reached over and unscrewed the canteen, taking a swig of the water inside. Then, screwing the lid, replaced it into the backpack, and finished off the protein bar. It was time to move on.

The rest of the day was spent struggling up and over the multiple mountainous bodies of the range. The place he was trying to get to had apparently been selected based off remoteness. It couldn't be reached by land transport, and aviators had a superstitious avoidance of the area. Plus, skydiving in mountains wasn't recommended. Still, the journey would hopefully be worth the effort, if the small rumors Damien had picked up were true. Tales of the power of the Moschets, of their strange, supposed heritage, and the way in which they were... extinguished. It was the disciple's hope that, despite the multiple ransacking that had likely taken place over the years, there was something of worth left. Something he could use. But the first step was to get there.

By the time he reached the specific rocky facade he needed, night had surrounded the young man. When he'd first seen it, he couldn't help but raise an eyebrow, impressed by the Mochet's ability to get competent architects way out here. The arches looked well made. And the pillars had definitely survived time. Overall, it looked rather pristine. Not that he cared. This was just an in and out; in to search for anything of value, then out of here, preferably with some artifact.

The cool night air was a blessing for the hiker on the rest of his pilgrimage, a relief from the constant punishment of heat the day had brought. And with the benefits of an easier road to the mountain, likely a result of culturing by the former inhabitants, Damien felt revitalized by the time he made it to the Moschet Museum, left hand resting on a pillar as his other rested on his leg. Even his brown vest, with its buttons snapped to keep it closed, and his cotton trousers, comfortably fit, we're devoid of the large amounts of sweat the journey had created. And with the break he'd taken just before getting here, he felt oddly revitalized. A huge relief.

---

Having been sent out on a mission to scout out the Moschet Museum and protect it till the exploratory party arrived, Eiji found himself sitting on a small ledge near the entrance to the Museum, eyes closed, when he began hearing sounds echo through. Channeling chakra through himself he amplified his hearing somewhat.

Breathing, footsteps, then relative silence.

The shinobi opened his eyes and raised an eyebrow, a small smile attempting to cross his lips before it faded. He rose to his feet and entered the Museum, intending to find the source of the noise. Perhaps the team had arrived? Unlikely, they were carrying plenty of equipment and would be slow...plus this had sounded like only one person.

Perhaps fun had arrived instead.

With this in mind he trudged on in search of the possible intruder. As he did so, his footsteps echoed quietly through the chambers of the museum.

As soon as the slightest sound of footsteps reached him, Damien froze. He stopped his breathing, stopped his moving... the only part of him not on pause were his eyes, scanning over the area before him. There. He thought he'd seen it, the slightest movement in the shadows. But he wasn't sure. He couldn't be, unless he checked it out. The first sign that he was about to start moving was his breathing, the intake slow and quiet before he exhaled through his nose in the same pattern. Then his head, tilting to give a better view, adjusting to allow his gaze past the edges of corners. But he couldn't see a thing.

Slowly, his hand left the side of the pillar as his legs shifted, carrying him closer to the nearest wall. Inch by inch, he made his way over until he could press himself against the surface, minimizing the silhouette the stars might make. Then he began to make his way to the entrance, moving with a sense of paranoia that filled the atmosphere. He could hear it, the slightest echo as steps rang out the presence of someone in the museum. The abandoned, ancient, remote museum.

He didn't like it. Every moment of the thirty seconds it took to reach the entrance, his nerves creeped closer and closer to the edge, even as he reached the corner to peer around I to the building. One more quiet breath, and his head barely peered around, looking inside in hopes of seeing if his paranoia had only amplified the ambling presence of some animal.

---

Hoping his actions would attract the likely intruder, Eiji spooled out several thread and began moving his arms, hands, and fingers in deft motions, causing the wires to splay out around him, weaving a web of sorts. In the darkness the wire seldom caught the light and so was only visible up close.

He continued to walk and as his ears picked up less breathing a grin crossed his lips and remained. Stealthy one eh, he mused, continuing to walk along the path to where he had first heard the intruder.

Preforming several handseals, the threads ceasing their movement, but remaining in the spherical net around him--kept in place by chakra--Eiji prepared for the worst. He wasn't sure where the individual was, but it was likely that they were concealing themselves. The question was whether they were running away, or stalking him.

Eiji approached the path that, out of sight, his opponent was hidden.

Two eyes watched Eiji, calculating, analyzing, measuring the man as he moved through the flitting lights, cast through the gaps in the museum's exterior. Damien could hear only the subtlest of sounds as he watched. The scrapping of shoes on the floor, the sound of wires hitting the ground, unknown to him... the traces of clothes rustling in the echoing halls. The entire time the stranger walked in the hall, traces of movement, deft and quick, caught the slightest bit of focus from Damien. And his suspicion grew.

As the stranger stepped towards the hidden wanderer, the man found himself pressing closer to the stony exterior, his shoulder meshing against the wall to form a seemless silhoutte in the night, a deformed mass latched to the building's facade. Eyes glued to Eiji, his breathing remained quiet while the left hand, kept back from the edge, moved ever so slightly behind him, until the cold, smooth stone was felt by his palm. Then he too began to prepare for the intruder to his expedition. It started at the fingertips, the slightest flicker of a dull, burgundy light. But as the shadowy figure stepped closer and closer, the powerful built, growing as other sparks formed, coalescing until his entire hand glowed with the burgundy color.

Though his eyes didn't see it, behind him the slightest, faded glow emanated from the powers he had summoned, nearly washed out by the star and moon above. Almost as illusive as a halucination, the light remained constant, and revealed the slightest outline of Damien. It was his fortune that this outline was his arm, the slope matching the archway while his head remained hidden by the shadow of his back, the transition smooth as stone. Further down, it stopped, creating an image as if noone was there.

---

Step by step, the echo went as Eiji broadcasted his location, as if he were unaware that his opponent were likely nearby. The only reason they'd have quieted down was to hide and hiding meant they were either avoiding him or ambushing him.

He wondered how they'd do it.

Turning the corner, Eiji passed within 2 meters of his quarry. Though if he were attacked, the shinobi's sharp reflexes would react properly. If not, he'd continue on his path.

However, after walking for another 5 seconds he'd send off a small pulse of chakra to detect his surroundings. If by then Damien had not moved, he would be spotted--though Eiji was hardly one to show it.