[IC] Nexus of Worlds- Final Round

[MelonHead]

The comedown from Black Mana was a thing nightmares are made of, soul scorching agony the likes of which few could describe as the Corruption leaches itself from the Mage’s body, leaving permanent scars of a physical and mental nature. Fortunately for Metz he was spared all that, as he suddenly came to in another realm with little recollection of that past few minutes. Somehow he had come from the last battle to here, which didn’t necessarily add up in the Mage’s mind.

“How is it possible I finished my previous battle and came here with one dose?” Metz asked himself rhetorically, looking around at his new surroundings. He stood there fully healed, his vials returned to the belt on his waist, sand and dust gathering on his stab-proof vest as it was kicked up by a light gust of wind. His eyes widened in alarm, as he realised much like before he had been transported to another world, but this one had the makings of something far less beautiful than the last. It was barren, dead, like the deserts of his world but lacking even the small signs of life that allowed one to rationalise such a vast nothingness. Before him stood a strange gate, made of some stone he recognised as similar to that from his first conflict, basalt at a guess. He took a breath, his body had become somewhat accustomed to the greater force of gravity after his last bout but even so the mark of higher gravity was not lost on Metz as he winced. Not only that, but he was having trouble getting his breath, his lungs straining to acquire the necessary oxygen.

It seemed like the Dreamers did not want to see him succeed for some reason, what other explanation was there for the numerous inhospitable environments he was being placed within. With a start, he checked his right hip and looked down, finally understanding the weight there. Even his pistol had been returned to him! Despite being lost in the previous conflict, forcing him to rely on the knife strapped across his chest, it had been returned with a full clip. He barked a laugh, rocking back his head and letting his reddish brown hair fall low in its pony tail as he looked up into an unfamiliar sky. He rifled in his pocket and looked down, finding some kind of shard in the palm of his hand, the knowledge of how to use it clear in his mind.

“It seems they giveth and taketh away.” He muttered, taking a step forward, his boots sinking into the desert sands just enough to leave a noticeable imprint. He flexed his upper torso, the underpadding tight to his body in comparison to the loose coarse nature of his green jumper. He had one left to face, but to who would go the spoils?

[GreivousKhan]

The Hope of the Father

A Wanderer who seeks to save his world…

A Soldier who hopes to spare the one he loves...

---

The wheels of fate had begun their spin once more, an endless system of cogs that would build one man up and destroy the hopes of another. Such was the way of the path these two men of different worlds found themselves on. An open space above the shifting sands rippled like the disturbed surface of open water as light gathered at the center of it. The ripples grow more violent before at last the light exploded outward before retracting and vanishing in the blink of an eye.

There stood the Lord Cardinal of the Ninth Fleet, the man known widely as the Black Mask of the Angar-Rylla Empire. Draped in black he stood unwavering. A calm wind sending his cloak bellowing slightly to his right. Revealing the pale grey breastplate underneath, the sun gleaming off the surface of it causing it to gleam a dull silver. His two swords, Mercy and Serenity strapped to his waist. Tablurath did not need to check to know his grenades had all been returned. His sense of calm that rolled through him allowed him to take stock of his surroundings and gear in the time it took to inhale. He cleanly noted the weight of each spherical device at his belt, along with that of his two swords. He knew instantly that this place held a greater degree of gravity. Even if he had not been able to feel it pulling on him like a thousand angry hands trying to drag him to the abyss.

His sensitive preternatural sight detected the minute shifts of energy that made up the electromagnetic spectrum. He was in a desert. Evidently. His feet sinking somewhat into the sands at his feet. He placed his weight from the balls of his feet to his toes back and forth slowly. Gaining a measure of how much the gravity had increased. Tablurath had the rare gift of being aware of exactly how much he could push his body. How much strain it could take before it broke. His visors built into his mask darkened to compensate for the blazing sun above. He noted its position to the west, placing it on his right side.

Then his opponent.

Ah, the mage. Tablurath had not known the victor of the last match. The chaos in the lobby had made it quite impossible to obtain much information from whatever staff left alive. He recalled Aquilan’s information on the man from the dossier built for him. A capable caster type, who’s magic often seemed to take the form of a pillar in shape. He calculated the distance to be roughly 60 meters away. The advised method of approach had been an aggressive stance due to the mage’s apparent reliance on some liquid he took during his first match. Tablurath had no reason to stop him from taking whatever preparations he wished however. He was confident in his ability and the outcome of this match.

He had placed the Wanderer as the most likely to reach this far. He possessed that cold resolve for victory- not unlike the Cardinals own. He looked down into his left hand, and opened his fingers to reveal a strange metal object gleaming a dull blue. A Dream Fragment? Intriguing.

He placed it into his belt to stow away for later. He might even throw it away, but given its appearance here… no doubt his opponent also possessed one. He rolled the shoulders of his arms as he began to stretch. Cleanly feeling the weights tied to his body. Given the increased gravity here, and the chaos he had been embroiled in earlier, Tablurath decided he would start this match off serious from the start. Given the circumstance he could no longer hold back. He needed to end this quickly. He exhaled as he kneeled and unbuckled the weights on his ankles.

Raising to his feet and spreading his arms wide before dropping the leather belt of weights. They hit the ground with a significant thud, spreading dust into the air from both sides. Perhaps his opponent had felt it even from this far away. Now he felt worlds better, carrying over two times your body-weight was no simple feat. Ironically it had been designed to emulate conditions for gravity even worse than now. He had been training in conditions like this since he had been a child.

His mask hissed as he began filtering oxygen stored in his mask. He never bothered using the air in alien environments, even when he had first arrived in the Dreamers Lobby. It was a practice he was not going to suddenly abandon now. It paid to be prepared for every eventuality.

Feeling remarkably light if a bit light headed; Tablurath began walking forward his hands resting on his hips on the handle of each sword. He had been holding back for most of this tournament, perhaps he might put a little effort into it this go around? There was a favor he needed to return...

[MelonHead]

Metz couldn’t see much of his foe, seeing as how there was a gate between them, so he began pacing rightward early on to strafe around the obstruction. His weight slowed him, made him sluggish, giving the Mage the impression of being pained or otherwise infirm as he struggled on without mana. It called to him with every step, whispering to him that there was an easier way, that it would solve his problems. Mana had a tendency to do that. He had left his backpack on the ground where he arrived, lightening his load somewhat.

Finally he made enough ground to actually see his enemy, approaching him with no similar infirmity, Metz knew that the environment was to be against him for the combat. He sighed, expecting nothing less. Metz was a survivor of the apocalypse, he had come to expect those little inconveniences life tended to throw at you, however irritating. They weren’t far apart, maybe 150 feet, a pittance of distance to the sorts he’d been faced with thus far. Still, he’d overcome them, why would this fellow be any different?

“Maybe because he has two swords and doesn’t give a shit?” Metz asked himself, staring his masked enemy in the face. Fighting melodramatic assholes with masks was becoming somewhat irksome, he’d have preferred to be facing Snowy the Wolf. He chuckled to himself, and then let his frown re-assert itself. It wasn’t like him to be making light of a shit situation, Black Mana was an awful burden sometimes, and he didn’t appreciate how it unhinged him slightly. It was sort of like the edges of shock or hysteria, he’d seen men driven mad by one too many doses, he hoped that wasn’t what was in store for him.

“Of course not Metz, you’re going to die here, because that man doesn’t need any juice to walk tall in high gravity, and you’re too much of a bitch to let loose.”

“That was uncalled for.”

“Sorry.”

Now I’m apologizing to myself, Metz thought with despair, standing stock still and letting his enemy approach. He had a vial of mana in his left hand now, Pure Mana to be exact, and was toying with the lid of the metal flask as he watched the man’s approach. He drew his gun in one smooth motion, watching still. He raised the weapon in the man’s direction, his finger on the trigger, brushing it slightly. He wanted to see how fast the man could move, he should see just that the moment he levelled his gun, unless the man was suicidal. However, he didn’t pull the trigger.

[GreivousKhan]

“Oppa G-ga-Gangnam style...”

Given some time before he was within range of his opponent Tablurath hummed a tune he had heard one of his men playing some years ago. He had not understood a word, and the music had been too fast for his translator. Still he found the song was infuriatingly catchy. The hell did Gangnam style even mean? He had no idea. He shook himself from his reverie when his opponent came within the neutral spectrum range of sight. Well he looked like hell. Perhaps this tournament had already began to take its toll. Understandable all things considered. Years of psychotherapy and grueling mental training had given the Cardinal a formidable will coupled with a strong spirit. The truth was he had been practically created for conflict.

War. Blood. Battle.

These things were all familiar bedmates to the Cardinal. Though he did not doubt this wanderer had seen his fair share of violence. Khazna doubted it had been anywhere near the scale he himself had laid witness to time and again. He doubted his heart would have known anything beyond the fighting had his paths not come across that of a little girl years before. One who would change Khazna forever…

It seemed the man was also rather sluggish and most interesting of all seemed to be lacking any significant degree of energy at the moment. His vest seemed to be of a similar design to Tablurath’s own body armor. His opponent at this point had stopped moving altogether. They seemed to be toying with some small object in their left hand as their right arm pulled short. The muscles in that hand clenching and then retracting. All preparing for an action he had seen countless times before.

Tablurath seemed to pay no heed to the weapon being drawn as he slowed his breathing. His telescopic sight allowing him to make out the most minute of details even from this distance. He counted already one focal point of energy among countless threads. All interlacing through this otherwise unbroken featureless desert. Save the odd statue or stone formation. The thumb of his left hand flicked under the guard of Serenity -there was no time for Mercy- Freeing it slightly from its sheath as he continued to walk forward. Lighter though he may be, he saw no reason to expand energy early on sprinting the distance between them.

Flash-point would prove tiring in these conditions even for him.

[MelonHead]

Just going to ignore the weapon pointing straight at you, letting me make good on my shot?

Even Snowy would have had trouble dodging a shot after it had left the barrel. Metz brushing of the trigger quickly became a squeeze as he had his pistol lined up, centre of mass, hardest to avoid. The bullet rocked out of the pistol, hurtling just left of centre at the swordsman’s chest, a nasty greeting by all accounts. It was a straight shot, the weapon briefly bucking in Metz’ hand as it fought his grip. The distance between them was probably about one hundred feet at that point, so his bullet would probably be arriving at its destination in about a quarter of a second, hardly enough time to be moving your entire body out the way. Metz couldn’t help but find it strange he hadn’t bothered reacting to the weapon being pointed at him, if he had moved then the evasion would be, if not easy, then a little closer to the realms of possibility.

He cocked the pistol and downed the vial of mana off to the left side of his mouth, allowing him a clear view of his enemy and whatever effect his round had on him, either forcing him to reveal some burst of speed or unnatural resilience. Metz was hoping for option three, the round perforating his heart and dropping him dead as easy as that. His realistic side was expecting something more unnatural, and certainly more dangerous for his wellbeing. He had a fail-safe though, the shard nestled in the palm of his right hand.

[GreivousKhan]

A sound soul...dwells within a sound mind… and a sound body.

---

His mind centered as he tapped into the world around him. Taking in his surroundings and especially the actions of his opponent as if the world had begun to move at a sluggish pace. He saw the man take aim and his arm tense as he squeezed the trigger just as Tablurath had predicted. He traced the barrels path in his mind's eye as he enacted flash-point on a small scale.

A normal person would require three tenths of a second just to register the sound of the gun being fired at this distance before they could even start to think about reacting. By the time they had begun to move the shot would have already hit them. Tablurath for his part had reacted to the shot as he had to such weapons countless times in the past. Having cleared the sheath partly just a moment ago, his right hand shot to Serenity’s grip as Metz squeezed the trigger. In the blink of an eye the sound of a bullet striking metal echoed as Khazna’s draw aligned with the bullet's trajectory; intercepting it and causing the missile to fly of course as it partly deformed against the blades surface.

He saw the torn projectile fly off to his left side in his peripheral vision as he continued his drawing motion. The act causing his cape to bellow back from the force of the movement. Causing the dark cloth to dance in the wind as he continued to walk forward. His sword now free of its sheath while it was held aloft to his right side and before him. Assuming the man processed information at the speed of a normal human, from the Torm’s perspective it would have simply appeared as if the weapon had appeared into the Cardinals hands while the shot simply vanished all together following a blurring of the mans edges.

No sooner had this occurred, however, did the wind begin to pick up noticeably. Sand was flung into the air as a dust cloud suddenly swept through the area. This turn of events was certainly surprising and the Cardinal wondered for a moment if it had been the work of his opponent. That line of thinking did not stack up however, why would he create such conditions when he obviously relied on ranged combat? Something else was at work here. The wind itself carried no trace of abnormal energy or magic.

It did, however, kick up one significant sand storm that instantly made sight difficult. Tablurath instinctively switched to heat signatures to keep track of his opponent. The dust cloud posing no difficulty for him to see through. It did grant a perfect opportunity at the very least. Tablurath ran to his left as he began sprinting in wide circle toward his opponent.

Moving at only a third of his full speed he managed to cover the distance in a little less than three seconds. Seeking to arrive at his opponents 2 O’clock just 20 feet away. All the while he watched his opponent’s movements through the sand and dust. He could not assume after all the man did not also possess some means of seeing through the sand. Tablurath didn't release his mibs that now covered Serenity. Knowing they would just be blown away in due course. He stayed low during his run, body tense and ready to move.

[MelonHead]

Well that’s shit. Metz thought, as Mana suffused his system and the dust kicked up around him. There’s not a whole lot of hope in a battle when your enemy can move a sword faster than a bullet can fly, hell, even spotting the damn thing should have been near impossible. It suggested reflexes many times beyond his own, perception beyond his own, speed far beyond his own. To reliably deflect a bullet was nearly impossible by any stretch of the imagination, but he’d just gone and seen it. All of this told him he was facing what could very well be a mix of his previous two opponents, the speed and perception coupled into one sword wielding maniac. As his view of his enemy grew obscured, he knew he could be in danger of being struck down by an opponent too fast for him to see. The answer was simple, give himself an advantage.

He weaved quickly, preparing a bolt for use. It was the fastest projectile he had, and always a sure-fire bet when facing off against enemies who could move faster even than his bullets. As of yet, he’d yet to find someone quicker than light itself, and on that day he knew his death was nigh. His second trick was simplistic really, he needed the terrain on his side to limit his enemy’s speed, and the shard in his right hand was perfect for just that. He imagined a scene etched in his mind, the Impaler’s Field, an ancient battleground from Felenr that he knew well. It was characterised by waves of spiked rocks some reaching waist high that essentially made the area impassable at speed and difficult even to walk across. It was not dissimilar to rock pools on earth, but at a far more extreme level. The area around Metz rippled and changed, leaving him with an escape route of clear land directly behind him for twenty feet, but otherwise making the area near inhospitable for his enemy who ran out in the dust. With his vision obscured Metz had no way of knowing where the man was, but he was confident the changes would last long enough, and more importantly slow his enemy significantly enough, that when the dust settled he’d be an easy target.

The dust was still thick, but slowly beginning to clear almost as soon as it had come, as the area almost five hundred feet in every direction moulded into the spiked death-trap Metz had imagined. If he was lucky his enemy’s speed would turn against him and he’d be impaled in the dust, if he was less than lucky the dust would clear and he’d get to use the bolt or his pistol on the sword wielder.

[GreivousKhan]

Knowing his opponent would resort to his shard during the dust storm- it had been given a high probability- the Cardinal had not invested his entire effort and energy in moving at full speed. He himself possessed a shard after all. Having committed its unique energy signature to memory. He noted that same pale blue aura was within his opponents grasp. Threads of its power growing outwards in all directions as it mingled with the very earth at their feet. As Tablurath had expected he was going to change the battlefield itself in order to limit the Cardinals mobility. At which point he would no doubt commence engaging him from a distance with evocation magic.

He halted his momentum abruptly as the terrain changed around him in a heartbeat. Fortunate for him as the landscape around his visual range seemed to jut out randomly in a field of stalagmites all pointing at an angle toward the sky menacingly. Would the Black Skull be stopped by such simple tricky? Hardly. Yet it had bought his opponent some time, as Tablurath was now to the far right of his opponent some 17 meters away from his opponent.

The dust cloud had already begun to dissipate as the area now returned to normal once more. As it started to clear the Cardinal stood with his right foot leading, left foot falling back behind him thus making him a smaller target as he stood with Serenity before him in his right hand. He allowed the blade to drop low then snapped it up again with a twist of his wrist. Allowing the weapon to swing before and from one side of him to the other side. Left down diagonally across, up then to the right again, then down again; repeat. Effectively creating a small eight figure on its side.

It was called the Anchor Stance. Allowing Tablurath to actively keep his weapon before him and moving through focal points of magic automatically. In short allowing him to actively defend from spells in one direction. Though it could not be used while on the move, hence the name. It was one of the many stances created solely to kill mages and other beings who manipulated energy. This was the stance that would greet his opponent as the dust settled. The movements of the weapon a blur that allowed the mibs to float off of their own accord as they slowly saturated the area around him.

His opponent had bought himself some time. Nothing more.

[MelonHead]

“Hah, cute.” Metz muttered, immediately holstering his pistol and dropping low to one knee in one motion as the dust cleared. The action set him at eye-level with the tallest of spikes, but more importantly it braced him to the ground as he drew both palms up in the direction of his rapidly flailing enemy twelve meters ahead of his new position. This was going to be one hell of a bang.

He unleashed the lightning bolt from both hands, sliding backwards a few feet even with his precautionary measures. The noise was impressive, shattering its way through an assortment of rocky spikes as it spat towards his enemy in a tri-fork of lightning, his magic left a trail of devastation as rock was hewn and shot at his foe like bullets. Not only did he have to contend with three streaks of lightning about half a foot apart but the mess of rock and debris that came with them, threatening to pierce and maim in every direction. The centre fork was dead centre, the left may hit an arm and the right likewise, but it was the tops of the rocky spikes that shattered and spat towards him that posed the real threat. It was a cloud of debris not unlike a shotgun blast that came with the bolt of lightning.

“Deflect that, dumbass.” Metz spat vehemently, picking himself off the floor and weaving a new spell as a precautionary measure, an Earth Circle.

[GreivousKhan]

The strike from his opponent came, and with quite the bang indeed! The explosion of force devastated a section of stalagmites and kicked up quite the mess of debris along with it. By now a thin cloud of mibs had gathered around him inevitably allowing Serenity to sweep through them in the process. As designed they immediately set to work constructing clones using the nearby landscape itself as a resource.

The added advantage Anchor Stance lent was not only did it allow for a powerful defense, but lead naturally to Jumbled Lineup, however that would have to wait for later. The three bolts of lightning sprung forth, easily outpacing the debris of stone work, then curved inward at the last moment, seemingly drawn toward the sword in Khazna’s hand. The moment his sword came down during its swing the bolts suddenly vanished without a trace. The focal point of power Khazna could see clearly, allowing the thread it had been merged with to be cut thus leaving the entire effect to simply cease to exist.

During this four sword clones began to spin into creation, a pair on either side of him. Following the momentum copied from the first Khazna had cunningly utilized the collisions between the swords to keep them aloft, effectively creating the effect of a cog of sorts. Wheels within wheels as it were. Thus the Jumbled Lineup in its infancy.

However, as the bolt of magic born lightening had been absorbed and dissipated. The effect of flying debris like so many biting flies was another matter. Something most unexpected even if his defence allowed him to nullify a great deal of its power. Bits of flying stone flew through the mist of mibs, losing mass and momentum as the nanomachines ate away at them. Still there were moving too fast and his own mist of mibs was to light to effectively deal with the threat.

The pseudo pellets struck the right side of his shoulder, denting the shoulder pads before striking into the right side of his chest and abdomen. Damaging the armor padding there with fairly superficial cuts and dents. He had likely come off better for wear thanks to the combination of mibs and spinning blades. Still, unlike nearly every opponent before now. This mage fellow had actually managed to land a blow of sorts upon him. Now that’s how you used magic! He could see he was dealing with no novice of the craft.

Tablurath felt the impacts of the stones, though since they lacked the cutting edges or raw velocity power of real case fragments his suit had been designed for, he was able to ignore the jolts of pain they caused. So he did not dare slow in his movements. He began keeping track of the time it took before the next casting in the back of his mind. Able to narrow it down to the very nanosecond if need be. At least he would pick up any variations for each spell type used.

His right handed sword blade struck out at one of the spinning swords before him, estimating the angle with precision and skill born from long practice. While his left hand pulled a grenade free from his belt.

“Nice try,” he voiced.

That struck sword was sent whirling away end over end some thirteen feet away and some fourteen feet high and climbing. His mind having already predicted distance and estimated the time it would take along with the now primed grenade in his left hand. His body dropped, leaving his knees bent as he prepared for his opponents next spell. His eyes zeroing in on the focal points of magic the thread of energy would take. He recalled his opponent had demonstrated the power to summon fire, and stone in the first match. However, he could only assume the man knew more forms of magic and elemental spells as a true arcanist.

Given Tablurath’s current surroundings he could imagine any of those offensive spells would be useful to use here. He’d have to hedge his bet so to speak.

[MelonHead]

“Fuck, so much for lightning, his swords eat it.” Metz spat, completing the Earth Circle which appeared around him with a four foot diameter. It hardly seemed fair to the Mage, who had just witnessed the only spell he was confident could hit the man be consumed by his sword without a trace. Still, no point getting demoralised just yet, or maybe there was, as his protective spiked rock field broke down around him. Apparently the change to the terrain was set to some indiscernible time frame, and was now breaking down to sand and dust and returning to what it was before. Unfortunate, but it had served its purpose, the rock shards had done some form of damage to his enemy at any rate.

On completing his defensive spell he saw his enemy had manifested some kind of conjured swords, an unfamiliar ability but with an affect Metz had seen used before. He expected the weapons to be launched at him, furthering his problems, but instead the man had to hit one with his own weapon to launch it skyward. Unlike many opponents, Metz perception was not supernatural, but with mana rushing through his body his perception did supersede its normal limits. With that in mind, the drawing of the grenade at his opponent’s side did not go unnoticed, and with such weapons being common in Felenr before the Departure he recognised the threat it posed.

His right hand shot to the pistol at his hip and drew it, levelling it at his enemy. Two spells in quick succession had drained a worrying amount of mana, but he figured he must still be working roughly on half power at the least, it wasn’t time yet to ready another spell but to go on the defensive.

[GreivousKhan]

“Look toward the earth…” the Cardinal breathed under his breath.

Tablurath noted the man beginning to pull his pistol free once more. In response he struck another spinning sword so that it was sent sailing end over end toward the mage even as the field seemed to return to normal once more. He then allowed his grenades grip to fall to only his palm, pinky, and ringer finger leaving his middle finger, thumb, and forefinger free. Then in a sudden flash of movement Tablurath was gone. Becoming a blur of movement as he simply vanished. The increased gravity had been accounted for in his next manoeuvre right down to the shifting winds.

So he knew how far the sword he had struck earlier had reached, nearing the twenty eight foot mark from his own position. He reappeared now a little to the mages left side some 15 feet off the ground and thirteen feet away. Now airborne much like the sword he had struck first. That same sword now in his left hand along with the grenade still ticking away. He had stopped midair halfway through a spin himself, the right side of his body facing the mage. He swung his right foot around and sent his left arm out with speed- releasing the grenade from his grip simply by letting his pinky and middle finger open.

The device barreled toward the mage even as his earlier sword was doing the same from the mages right side coming in from a 2 O’clock angle. In that instance his opponent had precious seconds to respond. At just 8 feet away the grenade would explode covering a twenty foot area in a thick ash like black cloud. Just a heartbeat before his other Serenity clone was just ten feet away. Just a heartbeat away from striking, aimed for the mages right shoulder with abnormal precision.

[MelonHead]

Metz noted the wind kicking up around him even as everything around him seemed to be moving in slow motion. The side effect of his Mana use was something akin to a hyper stimulant, the result, he had reflexes far surpassing his norm. Therefore, he was able to note the danger of the launched sword and avoided it in a simplistic fashion, using the heightened gravity to drag himself to the ground far quicker than normal. His legs purposely buckled, dropping him into a low crouch even as the swordsman seemed to disappear.

“Wha-“ Metz gripped his pistol in both hands and turned, right foot dropping forward in his crouch as his left pivoted to support him as the sword hurtled over his right shoulder and behind him, the point narrowly missing his flesh but its own speed reducing its effectiveness as it was unable to revolve fast enough to threaten him before it was already safely past him. He had caught movement off to his left hand side, and had to react quickly before the dust storm once again severely disadvantaged him. Lacking the required time to even consider how his enemy had ended up in the air off to his left he sighted what he knew was coming, the grenade, and fired with a practiced ease. It was a difficult shot, but aided by the fact that it was an incoming target. The Mage knew he had struck true as his bullet ricochet off the metallic sphere about ten feet from his position and caused it to reverse its momentum, likely broken by the impact as it flew back towards its owner. As far as Metz knew it was an explosive, and sending it back where it came from was ideal.

That was the last thing he saw as the dust cloud engulfed the field, once more returning him to darkness as it buffeted his clothes and forced him to turn away from the incoming winds. He re-cocked his pistol and fired out into the dust in the direction he calculated his enemy would hit the ground, provided he dropped straight down after whatever strange ability he had used to seemingly teleport. Crouched in the stone circle Metz knew he could be face to face with his sword-wielding enemy in a matter of moments, he had to hope his reflexes could save him, from what he had seen thus far the man could be upon him before he had time to cast a spell. He counted out exactly one second after firing, his mind preparing the circle.

[GreivousKhan]

The world shifted significantly as howling winds struck at the Cardinal from seemingly every direction. The mage had managed to avoid his assault as the sword sailed behind him before falling and impaling the sand a few dozen feet behind the mage. Tablurath’s grenade meanwhile blown off course rocketing away to his far left side sharply. Its internal timer damaged with a significant crack on one side of the sphere. Tablurath lost track of it in the ensuing storm, his spin taking him back earthward slightly to his right. He tucked in his feet and crossed his arms as he landed heavily on his right side going into a roll to absorb most of the impact.

He was up again in a one knee crouch when he heard the crack of another shot. A barely audible thud somewhere off to his left.

It seemed his opponent was now firing into the dark so to speak. The Khazna’s head spun and he felt the impact of the landing on his right hip and shoulder. Nothing serious, but his earlier flash point had taken more out of him than he had thought. The increased gravity pulling on his body. While he had trained under harsher gravity it was still a strain all the same. He also had not accounted for another sand storm so soon. Why would he? Predicting the weather was beyond him, yet something told him that this phenomenon was not wholly random.

Dammit! What was he doing? Anger welled up within him. Anger not aimed at his opponent, but himself. He had no time to play around here. His comrades in the lobby were still embroiled in that chaos; he could not afford to stay here much longer. Failing those under his command had been the burden that had sent him into self-exile. No, he would be repeating mistakes from the past. It was about time he started putting some real effort into this. He blocked out the roaring winds with shear mental discipline as he placed himself in his opponents shoes. Tapping into the full potential of his mind.

As the sand storm raged Tablurath took the time to catch his breath as he analyzed his opponent. His opponent was in some ways not to unlike himself. Making predicting his next move easier. The given conditions would leave him in a panic, his earlier experience leaving Tablurath to believe the man could not in fact see in the sandstorm. He’d thus be forced into the defensive.Waiting to react to the Cardinals next move given his options. The sand shifted at his feet as he inhaled- exhaling as he rose to his feet.

Tablurath’s internal clock suggested that the sand storm lasted no more than a few seconds previously, leaving only a few moments before it cleared once more. He bent his left leg behind him, leaning back so that his right foot straightened. This left his right shoulder facing his opponent. He tapped Serenity against its clone he had caught earlier in his jump. The mibs within it reconstructing to hold their current form. The Cardinal then whirled the single edged blade around to an underhand grip and reared back his left hand. He read the threads of pulsing power, taking aim, finding now a second focal point of intersecting energy like a living artery.

Holding his right arm forward and down he waited as the storm began to die down. The winds slowing gradually before finally ceasing altogether. In that small window before the sand had fallen back to the ground once again Tablurath struck. Throwing his cloned sword like a javelin aimed for the mage’s left leg. Coming in at a slight downward angle to take advantage of the increased gravity. The incoming blade would become visible through the dust only a few feet away just as the sand cleared. Likely giving his opponent little to no time to respond before it impaled his leg and stuck into the sand behind in one blow. At only fifteen feet away Tablurath was basically in point blank range, having positioned himself so that the sun was at his back its light shining down in his opponents direction. His body remained tense and ready to bolt forward depending how his opponent reacted.

[MelonHead]

Metz heard his enemy impact the ground near him, his heightened hearing sufficient to pick out the thump of his foe’s gravity-effected weight slamming into the earth even in the midst of the sandstorm. His shot was wide, he knew that even as he fired, so he turned slightly but quickly to re-adjust. To do so he shifted his weight onto the right foot in his crouch, and pivoted, drawing his left leg backwards slightly to support himself. It was this that saved him from being impaled.

The blade cut through the storm in front of him and reflexively he fired his weapon in the direction it had come, the round blasting out into the dust storm as it began to abate and narrowly missing impacting the incoming blade as it hurtled towards its owner. The round would likely catch him in the extended position his javelin-like throw had left him, hurtling towards the side he threw the sword from, but lower than his shoulder. For Metz there was no time for evasion even with his reflexes, save to exaggerate his movements in pivoting, enough so that the incoming blade cut through the flesh of his shin on the left side and missed the bone, shearing through and past him to plunge into the ground behind his circle. The wound was nasty, but superficial, which was of small consolation to Metz who though pumped with Mana still yelled out in anger and pain.

“You’ll pay for that shit-head.” He yelled, holstering his pistol as its current clip was out of ammunition. He drew the knife with his free right hand and began weaving with his left, preparing the stabilizing spell so that he could reliably trust his left leg again when he put his gravity exaggerated weight upon it. It was strange that his enemy hadn’t decided to engage him in melee already considering his marked advantage, Metz had been planning to activate his circle but the ranged attack had convinced him a rush was unlikely. The dust cloud was already abating, removing the advantage of concealment the swordsman had briefly obtained, he could already make out his form through the dust, so a rush now could see Metz with conceivable time to react, especially if his pistol round sent in response had dealt any degree of damage.

[GreivousKhan]

Tablurath heard the crack of gunfire, the sound audible in the quiet following the storms passing. Watching the barrels path with telescopic sight -allowing him to see through the remaining dust in the air- he predicted its path in his minds eye. Aroudn them the sand was already returning to the ground it had been kicked up from. Having thrown his swords clone over his right arm, he let his left hand rest above his right forearm. Tablurath’s previous preparation allowed him to easily intercept the incoming shot by angling Serenity by forty degrees up to his right with a twist of his wrist. Allowing the face of Serenity to deflect the shot to his right side.

The sound of metal striking metal echoed for a brief moment, the bullet just grazing his right shoulder and back as it sailed past him. Thus announcing the sound of metal scraping lead moments after the first as another indention cut a path through his shoulder plate. Thankfully missing flesh. His movements were frustratingly slower than he’d have liked, the increased gravity making itself known, but he didn't waste time lamenting that fact. Taking satisfaction that his real goal had been reached.

He pushed off his left leg as he shot forward, black mist weaving about him as it leaked from the sheath at his waist circling his form. He closed the distance in two heartbeats, following two bounding steps through the sand. He stopped some six feet away stepping forward with his right leg, causing his body to twist sideways allowing his weapon side to face the mage. Simultaneously making him a smaller target while giving greater range with Serenity. He swept his sword into a quick raft cut from the upper right down at an angle aimed for the left side of the Torm’s neck.

The path of his sword sailing through a gathering of ash from his upper right side, causing the vague shape of that same weapon to begin to materialize there. The threads of magic around them becoming more visible with every passing moment.

Meanwhile, perhaps, unnoticed by his opponent. The first canister of nano-machines had begun to leak a steady stream of mibs into the air some eighteen feet to the Torms right at his 4 O’clock.

[MelonHead]

Don’t thrust don’t thrust,

Excellent.

Metz forced himself up, springing from his crouched position to exploit his enemy’s overextension. Six feet spacing with a three and a bit foot sword was a bit of a push for a body cut on a crouching man, not much but enough that the arm had to be fully extended. That was where the trap lay, that and his spell which he quickly abandoned as a sham. The wound to his leg was really inconsequential to the Mage, who had hardly been moving around at all and had therefore refrained from giving away much. He moved as the man stopped and showed signs of the oncoming cut, forcing his weight forward uncomfortably onto his right foot, bouncing into a standing position a little to the right, the power coming from his uninjured leg. He took a single ginger step on his left and then pivoted his left foot as the sword swung in, entering within the man’s guard as his leap had covered three feet. He turned and slammed his body rightward with all his force to pivot, his right arm extended to plunge the knife in his hand in a forward grip into the man’s lower torso hopefully as he fell towards him.

Meanwhile, as his body pivoted his left arm reached out to grasp the sword-hand flying towards his body, trying to seize the wrist and lock, before completing the spin and pulling with his left hand, aiming to the drag the man past him. The end result was to have him off-balance, increasing the likelihood of him being pulled into the knife blow, and subsequently thrown behind the Mage and into his circle. His grip and pull was within human realms, but was likely to surprise the swordsman as it had behind it the strength of an extreme power-lifter.

Metz attack was quick, but behind that was his desperate survival instinct and the belief that if nothing else, his decision to go on the offensive with only a knife to his name would be unexpected by most opponents who had just seen him apparently badly injured.

[GreivousKhan]

A Sword To A Knife Fight

---

The wheels of fate were spinning to their climax, the threads born of the wheel entwining to one inevitable outcome. Tablurath’s sensitive sight read the sudden tensing of his opponent’s legs and it was simple enough to foresee the coming reaction. Previous calculations having made contingencies for such a response. As he had predicted his opponent was responding the only why he could with such a short ranged weapon. Aggressively. The Mage kicked forward suddenly, but almost sluggishly as if he were moving through water in the Cardinals eyes. The potent effects of Tablurath’s heightened perception kicking in.

Seeing the signs his opponent had fallen for his trap he sprung it into action. Had his opponent observed the Cardinals previous battle, he might have not chosen his current course of action nor ignored the forming weapon. Alas it was too late. Tablurath simply let go of Serenity in the beginnings of his cut as he fell into the power of flash-point and in a blur his right hand shot up, turned palm facing skyward, and gripped the blade newly formed sword clone from the cluster of ash there just to his right in an underhand ice-pick grip. The distance was miniscule enough that the action seemed instantaneous. He then shed the extra force into that weapon allowing him to enter fluidly into a high guard with his left knee bending slightly.

A quick and subtle flick of his wrist down and slightly to the left brought the cloned sword into the mage's path. This one single action had thus defeated two actions of his opponent with a deft economy of movement. The mage’s left hand would grip only open air where the Cardinal’s arm was only a moment ago, missing Serenity’s handle by mere inches as he had aimed for the wrist. Secondly with Tablurath’s new swords position the forming tip would end aimed directly at the base of the mage’s neck. The Torms current movement would see him impaling himself on the weapon at just four feet away. Outside the range of the man’s knife and with the cloned blade’s tip just above the protection of his vest the edge would have little trouble puncturing the flesh then slicing through the carotid arteries there before hitting the spine.

The sword would catch the Torm in the midst of his forward leaping action. Effectively giving him no time to change direction or stop himself as he was left to the mercy of his own forward momentum. The mage was fast, to be sure, but compared to the automated the defenses of that Raelis individual he may as well be kicking through gravy. Tablurath’s left hand remained angled across his chest, posed and ready to drop to Mercy if needed. The Cardinal did not have the exact amount of time to push forward into a thrust right away, but his right arm was already posed for such an action.

On top of all this the winds around the two were picking up once more. No doubt the dust storm would be returning in force. Still with such little space between them it might go mostly unnoticed. Especially if the mage died here; he was going to learn the hard way charging a sword saint was tantamount to suicide. Perhaps in this cause quite literally.

[MelonHead]

Metz had bounded rightward to increase the distance between himself and the incoming sword, this in fact only increased the safe distance between himself and his enemy when he strangely opted to both abandon his already moving strike and instead seize a sword that was barely formed from the air off to the right. Obviously, Metz had not tried to reach for the wrist as his enemy’s arm suddenly blurred and re-appeared with the new sword in hand, but had simply charged the man’s body. The only real change Metz made was to raise his left forearm up into the path of his enemy’s right arm to prevent him stabbing his blade down into him like he had done to Shin in his previous bout. Then, with his enemy’s body completely open to him he simply stepped in on his strong right foot and set to work, thrusting rapidly at his foe’s lower body just below his waist, seeking out weak spots in his armour. The blade of the Shint was designed to pass through armour with its razor sharp point, especially with Metz’ magic infused strength. He targeted the waist for a simple reason, in all armour it had to be a point of weakness due to the flexibility required there. If it was one continuous piece of armour too much mobility would be sacrificed, so the joint was the weak spot, his knife could find purchase between the leggings and the torso armour and pierce flesh.

[GreivousKhan]

It's A Trap!

---

His opponent abandoned their wrist grab, just as Tablurath had foreseen. The Cardinal edging so that the Torm remained on his right. The mage then raised his left forearm to intercept the cloned sword by bracing against the Cardinals own right forearm. Placing the blade safely beside his opponent's head. Khazna’s response to this was to simply open his palm at the moment of contact, allowing the newly caught sword to fly over the mage’s left arm. Simultaneously his left had dropped down as he snapped his fingers in one smooth motion; that hand falling to Mercy's grip.

The choices made by his opponent now had been calculated and planned for. The simple switch of swords seemingly benign on its own would suddenly bear fruit at his opponent’s expense. The materialized weapon would suddenly burst apart in a sudden though small explosion directly beside and the left of the mage’s face. Obscuring mist with smaller fragments of still deforming Starlhrim bathing his face. They existed for only a few seconds, but lasted more than long enough to pepper his opponent’s face considering the near point blank range.

The normally nonlethal effect was anything but this close up as it coated Metz’s face in nanites, covering it in a black mask and effectively blinding him as mibs covered his mouth and nose, possibly obstructing his airways. The A.I’s within the mibs seeking to cling to a surface in the face of the incoming winds. Added with the sharp fragments would pose enough threat to damage the soft tissue of the man’s eyes- even puncturing the thin skin of his eye lids this close. The blow back swept toward Tablurath inevitably. The fragments bouncing off and denting parts of his skull helm. It's mocking smile perhaps the last thing his opponent might ever see. This clever ploy was quite similar to the Cardinals attempt during his last match. However, lacking the momentum and range of an explosion born from a true grenade it did not possess the exact deadly potential. The winged knight had literally blown that plan away during the last bout. His current opponent likely possessed no such luck.

Exploding pain from countless fragments lacerating most of his face could very well cause the Torm to flinch, creating an opening if only for a moment. Meanwhile at the same time Tablurath used his left hand to push down on Mercy’s handle. He had placed his body previously so that the mage came at him from the right side of his body. Predictably he lunged for where he believed Tablurath’s armor was at its weakest. When the knife's tip hurtled forward and met resistance, however, the sound of metal on metal sounded. The sheathed Mercy was brought up like a lever as Tablurath pushed down it with his left hand, deflecting the stab at the last moment, cutting into the scabbard belted at Tablurath’s right side. Causing the knife to deflect upward with its momentum, shifting the stab into a cut across the ceramic plate’s scales against Tablurath’s lower back. The knife's edge now coated in a layer of mibs once stored in the sheath. Before his opponent could hope to recover from the sudden blinding effect from his nanite trap.

Tablurath pushed off his left leg and into the mages guard in a sudden rush of speed. Seeking to pin the man's knife arm between them. His now free right hand tucking inward - grabbing the Torms left forearm and pulling it to Tablurath’s own chest as he swing his upper body to the left sharply, using his elbow to strike a savage blow at the rattled mage. Aiming for his chin as he combined speed, strength and momentum to create enough force to sharply twist the mage’s neck sharply from the blow. Enough power behind it coupled with the plated elbow pad to snap his spinal cord and break his jaw, at worse killing him, or at best knocking him out.

Had the mage flinched away from the blast seeking to at least save his right eye- and breaking eye contact with the Cardinal- the blow would instead be aimed at the man’s throat. The sledgehammer blow more than powerful enough to crush his windpipe as the Cardinal twisted with the muscles of his waist. All this in a three tenths of a second.

It was time to test his opponent’s survival instincts.