The Darklight Project

The Origin: A War Resumed (Arc One; Completed)

@AdrianeThat'll be the day I die.

The Origin: A War Resumed (Arc One; Completed)

@PetiteAmbivertTWO STRIKES JUDAS

The Origin: A War Resumed (Arc One; Completed)

Alright, so, fight time! Finally! Let me explain how this is going to go down.

I want this done in two rounds of posting. That may sound limiting, but I don't think it really is because it's up to us to make the posts as long as we want. Before I get into that let me explain the pairs.

Okay, so, @Raijinslayer you're going to be working with @Aya the Small. @sumi desu, you're working with @PetiteAmbivert. Everyone else, you're working with me. Made sure to set up opponents across from one another. So, in the case for the people who are working with someone who isn't me, for the first post I want the collab to be posted by the newer person, and the second by the the older person. When it comes to the content of the posts, I want them to basically split the fight in half. We'll have the first round of posting where the six fights that don't involve my two main characters (Cyril and Christopher) get one post each, then I'll post the one that has what goes on with Cyril and Christopher for the first half, then there will be another round of posting where each post will finish up the fights, and then I'll post again with finishing the entire brawl in general.

Spoiler alert, but clearly Barcea is meant to win this, so keep that in mind. Give the new people an opportunity to show off that they're strong, and then find some way for the Barcean folks to win without too much of a "fuck you." These new people will be joining the group after all, so.

Meanwhile, at the same time there's going to be a scene running parallel to this that is very, very, VERY important. Make sure to pay attention to that as well.

The Origin: A War Resumed (Arc One; Completed)

The Arena of Gurata

The night passed. Each person allied with the Sentinels spent it in different ways; some rested, some prepared, and a few licked at newly gained wounds. Once the eating, revelry, and fighting was over, the night passed in a merciful sort of quiet.

When the next day came, the Arena was even more crowded than before. The news about the Decision by Combat had travelled through the Homestead very quickly, and had even spread beyond to the nearby tribes. It brought in a new flood of Guratans, eager to see the brawl that would be happening at midday that would be deciding the direction their nation would be taking in the coming days. For the most part, the Guratans didn't seem to care what the result might be, strangely aloof to the whole matter. To them, it was just another day of Guratan politics, though the idea of going to a full-fledged war seemed to almost excite many of them.

The first half of the day passed by too quickly for some, too slowly for others. The Prince was lax on waking everyone up, so long as it would be on time. For the most part they gathered together and stayed together, eating and passing the time quietly conversing and creating minor plans. With no knowledge of just who Chief Seryosa had chosen to oppose them, the most they could really discuss was maximizing their various strengths.

At around eleven both Chief Kisarin and Chief Yihira came to them, and the Prince made sure that everyone was gathered together. As they moved through the hallways, making their way back down to the first floor, Kisarin gave them a rundown of the rules one last time, to make sure they were absolutely clear:

"It's pretty straightforward, you know. Your eight versus her eight. I don't think you have to worry about Seryosa being on the other side, since she's the defender and it's almost taboo for a defending Chief to take part in one of these battles, but that means you really don't know what to expect from one another. Fight as hard as you can, but if an opponent yields then do not kill them. The same will go for any of you, in case it happens. Last side standing wins."

By the time he finished with the summary, they had reached a set of very large metal double doors, shut tightly. Yihira gave a nod towards them after she turned to face them all once more. "That's where your eight will enter through when the times come. They'll be opened, so don't worry about it. Just enter and stand in a line parallel to the one that's formed by Seryosa's eight. I'll be the one to give the call to start, so it'll be absolutely clear when to begin. The rest of you, come with us; we'll lead you to some good seats saved for you." With that, she began to turn, though she blinked and stopped as she looked back to Cyril. "Uh, Prince. Some of the men came across a... rather damaged room. You have any idea what happened there?"

"No idea whatsoever!" the Wanderer squawked, moving to conceal himself behind Gortul once again, well bandaged over the cuts from the night before. He no longer had his scar covered, however.

"No idea whatsoever." the Direwolf calmly said as he continued to smoke, unconcerned with the new sets of bruises that covered him.

Yihira briefly looked to the two in confusion, before looking back to the Prince. When Cyril just gave a slow sort of shrug, her eyebrow raised slightly in disbelief. However, she returned the shrug, saying, "Eh, no major harm done. Come on, you lot." She waved her arm forward as she and Kisarin began to move once again, leading the rest of the group away. Various good-byes and gestures were given, the one that stood out the most probably being the one from Ayano, with how excitedly she said, "Good luck everyone!!!"

The eight had to wait only a few minutes. Last minute preparations and adjustments were made, such as how Cyril adjusted the place of his blade at his side slightly, or how Christopher stretched and loosened up, often cracking his knuckles. When the doors opened they did so without warning but slowly, so they had plenty of time to look over and realize what was going on. As soon as they began to open the roar of the crowd could be heard instantly, casting away the silence. Back and forth Cyril looked to those still with him, before nodding slightly as he stepped forwards. "Let's go, everyone."

Beyond the doors, they were actually able to see the purpose of the Arena for the first time. The floor was stone, both heavily damaged and repaired throughout. There were plenty of stains deeply sunk into the stone as well, and little imagination was required to tell where those stains had come from. The space for battle was a circle fifty yards in diameter, surrounded by walls that were twelve yards tall. Immediately above and just behind the walls the seating began, extending upwards and outwards to all the way to the very high open ceiling above. The stands were positively filled with Guratans, their cheering growing even louder as the combatants began to enter the arena. With two brief glances, Cyril saw how the rest of the group had been seated together to their left, closest to the battle area and that high up above in their own separate section were the three Chiefs. Across from them a set of metal doors similar to the ones they had entered through also swung open, Seryosa's eight entering.

Both sets of eight moved, forming lines parallel from one another. From left to right the order went Dalious, Drosil, Arvis, Vesta, Cyril, Lora, Chikako, and finally Christopher.

Across from Dalious stood a man of decent height and slight build. He had slightly shaggy black hair, and he wore various greys with bits of armor made from leather. He had different bags at his side and one slung over his shoulder, and he also carried two long daggers with him. He didn't seem to be a Guratan native, though he did seem rather aloof to the whole matter.

Across from Drosil was the scorpionfolk from the day before, Thuraya. Emerald eyes scanned everyone on the opposing side to begin with from beneath her near-pure-white hair that fell infront of her face slightly. She took another step forward and looked directly at Drosil and smirked. A look in her eyes that clearly stated 'don't think I'll go easy on you'. Left hand grasped at her sword a little tighter as she brought it up from against the ground and over her shoulder, tail curled upward slightly and turned so her right side was toward him, arm dangling lazily at her side.

Across from Arvis stood another young man like himself. Though he had somewhat tanned skin he didn't seem Guratan, wearing various shades of brown with light blonde hair of short length. He carried a spear freely in his hand, and he seemed to be nervously smiling as his eyes looked back and forth down the line of eight that stood with the Prince.

Across from Vesta stood a very tall and muscular man. Lightly tanned with dark brown hair, he was dressed in furs from the waist down, his torso and arms bare. This allowed one to see the various scars over his body, along with fresher bruises and healing cuts. Over his shoulder he carried a warhammer, and when he first saw Vesta he looked her over curiously before he blinked, eyebrows raising as he said, "Well, I'll be damned."

Across from Cyril stood a strange man. He was just a little taller than the Prince, but he was very thin. He wore warm, covering clothes of tan shades, and he had short dark hair. The strangest thing about him though was how he had cloth carefully wrapped around his eyes, concealing them entirely. At his side he carried a thin, rapier-like blade.

Across from Lora stood a young woman. She had longer brown hair and brown eyes, wearing simple clothes of dark blue. She carried a bow in her hands and a quiver over her shoulder, and she smiled at Lora, paying attention to only her and no one else.

Across from Chikako stood another short woman. Standing at five foot nothing the woman stood with her back straight and her chin barely above level with staring green eyes. She was devoid of any kind of makeup though it was clear she was a woman by her figure alone. Though short, she was very clearly well endowed- even with a collar high crisp white shirt on and worn leather jacket with sleeves pushed up past her elbows. Tanned pants and rather impressive knee high boots only added to her figure. On her hips rested a series of pouches and hidden weaponry, like that of the knife holder on her left leg. The weight of her weapon on choice weighing on the small of her back- a collapsible bo staff. One made of metal and costing her a rather shiny penny. It may not be her main weapon of choice but she didn't feel shooting someone would be a 'fair' fight. Despite the rather basic weapons and the bland touch of attire was a rather curious bit of personality. A single vibrant pink flower was tucked into the tight bun of her tawny hair. Her gloved hands fell from their position crossed under her chest to resting gently at her sides, waiting for the sound to call and waiting to reach for a select weapon.

Across from Christopher stood a strange woman. She was fairly tall and had long green hair with very yellow eyes. She was almost deathly pale and wore blues and whites, including a pointed hat. All over her clothes were yellow symbols that mostly consisted of suns, moons, and stars. In one hand she held a long staff, the body of the staff dark with a bright crescent moon-shaped blade on one end of it, and a heavy looking metal ball on the other.

While the sixteen faced one another, cheering grew to a climax before it suddenly ceased as Yihira stood up above. With the silence the eight on Seryosa's side that weren't already holding their weapons began to draw them, so Cyril did the same as he drew his own blade. For a moment the silence continued, and then Yihira brought her arm up, before swinging it down-

"Begin!"

"Let's go!" Cyril shouted, as he charged forwards.

The Origin: A War Resumed (Arc One; Completed)

Empty Hallway/Room in the Arena of Gurata

"Complicated? What do you mean?" As the Prince asked his question, he saw how the Wanderer seemed nervous in a way and almost out of sorts, as if he had an especially bad headache. The short man's hand came up, scratching at the bandages on his cheek as he looked back and forth, more often than not towards the door. He seemed to be thinking how to answer, before he sighed and hung his head.

When he looked up his gaze passed from the Prince entirely, looking towards the door with a glare that was surprising on the soft face of the man. "Enough of this." Suddenly his foot came up, kicking the door in and off its hinges before he stepped through. Cyril had yelled at this sudden display, before quickly following after the Wanderer and into the room, more worried than before. Something was very, very wrong with the situation.

The room was conspicuously devoid of decoration and furniture, even for Gurata; it was completely emptied, possibly cleared out earlier in the day. It was a large but simple room, square and with stone floors and walls, as expected from rooms within the Arena. It seemed to be carefully lit by torches, so that the center and sides were fairly lit but the corners were dark. One man stood at the end of the room opposite the door, smoking a cigarette calmly: The Direwolf, Alsius Argentum.

When the Wanderer kicked open the door and stormed inside and the Prince followed, Lora really had no choice. She rushed after the two of them and then froze in the doorway at the sight of who was inside. She lingered behind the Prince, still out of sight but just close enough if he needed help.

"Well, it seems like you had some trouble finding me. You're not what you were, are you?" Slowly, the tall, armored man rose from where he sat against the wall, having waited for the door to open. Slowly, he took a few steps forwards, before stopping a fair distance across the room from the Wanderer, whose body was somewhat tense. He exhaled, blowing the smoke out gently before he spoke. "The last time we fought was just before you returned West. That makes it... About ten years, perhaps eleven..."

"Wanderer..." Cyril asked quietly, slowly looking over to the shorter man. The Prince was tensed slightly, clearly sensing the massive amounts of tension between the two men in front of him. The Wanderer only briefly looked to the Prince out of the corner of his eye, though he never took his gaze away from the Direwolf entirely.

"He knows the Direwolf Argentum... From the war that ended ten years ago, from when he hid in Kyora during the time the Gifted went into hiding."

Cyril's eyes widened with shock, physically reeling as he took a step back. "What?!"

Slowly, Alsius pulled in another full inhale of smoke, before letting it out in one long sigh. "Ten years... When said, it's only two words... But to live it is quite awhile..."

"... Yes. It seems enough to make a man rot." At the Wanderer's words, the Direwolf's eyes narrowed slightly, but the Wanderer simply continued: "Many of those that he fought were crazy to begin with... But that wasn't you. There were twists to you that he couldn't begin to fathom, but in battle you were honorable and came straight at your opponent. Skulking around, luring him along... You never used such petty tricks then. The Alsius Argentum of the past... He was impressive."

"... Huh. Huh-huh-huh. Huh-huh-hah-hah! HAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAH!" Head tilted back as he burst out in loud, full laughter, Alsius' reaction made the Prince pale; Cyril had barely ever seen the man smile before, much less laugh like this. The Direwolf began to take steps forwards. "Ah... How humorous. I figured your sword had gone dull, but I never expected your head as well! We who have fought the Fearsome Phantasm know his strength greater than any other, but to see this.... This refusal to kill that I've heard so much about, from the rumors that have been left behind in your travels... Clearly, it's made you weak." At those words, his face turned into a sneer. Having taken steps back in response to Alsius' steps forwards automatically, as the sheer aura of the man was palpable, Cyril had paled even more at the revelation.

The Wanderer... The Fearsome Phantasm...?!

The name itself was enough to inspire fear... One of the so called "Gifted," one who was known for how the amount of men he had killed numbered in the thousands, maybe the tens of thousands... The man who lurked in the shadows and was never seen before all before him was cut to pieces... And the one Gifted who was known to have come to the West in the time of the war. In hindsight later, the revelation would seem quite obvious, but in the moment to the Prince the thought of the Fearsome Phantasm himself in Barcea seemed almost unthinkable.

Lora barely heard the plot twists—all her attention directed at the Prince. She watched him tense and talk and reel from the shock, with little reaction of her own. Tension was boiling between the Direwolf and the Wanderer, tension she could pick apart and piece together later on. Now, her only desire was to make sure Cyril wasn’t burned in the steam.

The Wanderer's gaze remained forward, his expression emotionless. There was no physical reaction to the Direwolf’s approach, unlike that given by the Prince. Instead, he just reached up to those bandages over his right cheek and neck, tearing them away to reveal a strange, wavy sort of scar that curved down from his cheek all the way to his neck. "It's enough to have a Wanderer's strength to protect those who require it. The Phantasm's strength is no longer required in this world."

"A Wanderer's strength, eh?" Alsius reached up then, unfastening the cloak around his armor, allowing it to fall heavily to the floor as he continued to walk forwards. "That strength is pathetic. Look at how they so easily trusted you. What if someone with true negative intent were to do the same, H'kelan or otherwise? You would not be able to stop that person before it was far too late. They could be killed at any time." He tossed the cigarette to the side, before his hand went down. He brought his blade up from his side, slowly unsheathing it only to toss the sheath to the side. "It will always be like this. That danger will always be present. You can do nothing to prevent it as you are. Unused strength is the same as none. Your hypocrisy disgusts me."

The Wanderer didn't say anything, gaze only narrowing slightly as the Direwolf continued. "As you put it, ten years is long enough to make a man rot. Drowning in self-satisfaction and phony righteousness, how can the Fearsome Phantasm protect people without killing? Have you forgotten...?" He brought his blade up, holding it vertically in front of him, so that it blocked out part of the left side of his face. “Swift, relentless death to anything evil. That is what I live by, and it is what you lived by. I can't stand seeing you like this.”

The Wanderer was silent for a few more moments, before saying, "No matter what you say, he refuses to take more life."

"... Is that so...? Then come." Alsius slowly slid into a stance, sliding his left foot back and turning his body with the movement, sword held in his left hand as he pulled it back, held almost horizontal to the ground as his other hand was held forward and hovered above the end of his sword. “Let me show you your futility.”

Everything was quiet, everything was still.

"... What's wrong? Will you just stand there and let them all be caught in my attack?"

The Wanderer's eyes narrowed slightly at the implicit threat from the Direwolf before he stepped forwards, but Cyril did as well. The Prince’s hand came up, going to grab the short man’s sleeve to try and stop him.

"Wanderer-!"

“Cyril!”

Lora surged forward, grabbing the Prince’s sleeve as he had grabbed the Wanderer’s. Her fingers twisted tightly in the fabric as the Prince jumped in surprise, finally alerted to her presence. The Wanderer stopped, before looking back to the Prince, and then to Lora as well. "... It will be fine. Now, he is after life. This fight cannot be avoided... But afterwards, he will explain all that he can."

And then he continued stepping forwards, shrugging the Prince away. Lora grabbed Cyril’s arm and pulled him back, out of the way of the two men. Only once they were far enough to be safe did she let go of him. The Wanderer, meanwhile, moved to the side as Alsius relaxed his stance to just watch him, so that they stood perpendicular to how they did before.

Theme of Joachim vs. Alsius: Kodoku - Alex Roe

"Come."

"Aren't you the challenger, Direwolf?"

"Heh." Once more, Alsius slid into his stance. "Fair enough. I'LL BEGIN!" With the shout, suddenly he charged forwards, tip of his sword dropping towards the ground a little as he leaned forwards before suddenly thrusting-

Into the empty air, as the Wanderer had leapt, beginning to draw his blade, eyes narrowed more-

"Do you think you can dodge like that, Phantasm?!" Suddenly, Alsius lifted his blade upward, thrusting upwards as a continuation of the first moment. With the tip of the blade coming close to impaling the Wanderer in the torso, the man turned in the air slightly so that he was only cut, eyes widened in surprised.

"Not enough!" Suddenly turning his blade, Alsius cut deeper into the Wanderer, swinging the blade to slash and send the Wanderer down slightly as the man leapt upwards to meet him, rise above him, and then kick him down to the ground, the Wanderer crashing heavily while Alsius landed solidly on his feet. The movements had been so fast that it was hard for the Prince to keep track of them.

"Do you not remember, Phantasm?!" Alsius' blade was already dripping blood at the upper half. Beginning to take the same stance as before, the Direwolf said, "There is no escape, and that is not even the full form!"

Alsius charged forwards, still in the same stance as before. To Cyril, this didn't come as a suprise; the thrust was Alsius' mastered move, and what he was known for. The Wanderer moved forward that time to meet Alsius's thrust, trying to deflect it with his a slash from his own blade.

"WASTE OF TIME!" Suddenly, the Direwolf swung his blade upwards, the force of the clash sending the smaller man back to crash against the wall easily. From where he hit, the Wanderer slumped down afterwards. Alsius began to step forwards, asking with a sneer on his face, "Is that all...?"

And, slowly, while breathing heavily, the Wanderer brought his head up slightly. His eyes were narrowed into a deadly glare, black cracks beginning to appear throughout the whites. There was a subtle glow to his scar, brightening and darkening in slow pulses. Cyril's eyes widened as he stepped forwards, trying to block the way quickly as he called out, "Alsius, that's enough!"

The sneer faded from the Direwolf’s face, replaced by a look of vague irritation. "... Move out of the way, Prince Serio." Cyril opened his mouth to speak again, but stopped when a hand landed on his shoulder, the Wanderer gently pushing him to the side and out of the way. Lora had stepped forward when Cyril rushed in again, but Wanderer reached him first this time and pushed him back towards her. Though the short man was still glaring, it was much calmer now, and the black cracks were gone.

"Let's go..."

For a while, both were still. Alsius watched his opponent carefully, eyes narrowed as he thought, recognizing how with each moment of combat, and probably with each fight the Wanderer had experienced in the last ten years, his opponent was slowly but surely returning to his former self. It was something he was intent on continuing to draw out, until the process was complete.

Suddenly, the Wanderer was on the attack, shooting forward with his blade at the ready. He dashed with his left hand down and in front of him, his right holding his blade behind him. He was much faster than before, and Alsius quickly slid back into his stance to thrust forwards, directly into the Wanderer's head... But the man suddenly disappeared with a strange black and purple shimmer, Cyril yelling out in shock as Alsius' eyes widened. The Direwolf's eyes dropped down, to where the Wanderer had suddenly appeared to the side slightly, low to the ground, slashing upwards towards the Direwolf’s armpit.

Barely in time, Alsius' foot shot out as he yelled, kicking the Wanderer across the head and sending him back against the wall he had crashed against before. Slowly but surely, he began to rise, stance weak and breathing harsh...

But, with each breath, it was brought under control, his stance solidifying as he slowly looked back up with that deadly glare from before, but now there were purple cracks along with the black ones, and much more than before. The scar had a stronger glow, one that remained constant and didn't pulse. As the Prince paled even further, Alsius’ eyes just narrowed slightly.

'Could it be...?'

The Wanderer began to step forwards, each step deliberate, slowly swaying as he did so. Had he returned to the Phantasm, or had he simply gone insane? This was the question Alsius asked himself, and he intended to find that out the only way possible. His left hand came back, still holding the blade, but now he held it high, over his head, his other hand hovering along the end to the side. It was his full stance. "There will be no holding back."

Suddenly, Alsius charged forwards, to the still slowly approaching Wanderer. The thrust was quick, the deadly blade stabbed forwards in a blur that was impossible to truly see for the Prince… And yet the Wanderer still leaned to the side just enough to avoid the blade. That was enough to make Alsius think he had simply lost his mind, however. After all, he had the side slash, and he went into it without hesitation-

And, suddenly, Alsius' eyes widened as the Wanderer moved, spinning around him in multiple steps, yelling as he swung his blade, bringing it against his back in a sudden, terrible blow… Yet there was no real blood save that which left Alsius's mouth along with saliva in the instant of impact, as the Wanderer had flipped his blade around to use the blunt back. Alsius was launched forwards by the swing, crashing through the wall that the Wanderer had been sent against easily. The stone crumbled away from the wall, ceiling, and floor after the Direwolf went through it. There was no movement in the dark afterwards initially, the Wanderer slowly straightening and looking towards the damage.

"However strong your attack may be, when it's shown four times in a few minutes, any idiot can come up with a few ways to counter it. It doesn't matter if the move is mastered or not if it doesn't kill one's opponent. Get up, Direwolf. A ten year duel can't end this quietly."

There was a slight scuffing sound, and slowly Alsius emerged from the hole, stepping through as the gaping edge crumbled slightly as he brushed by. He was bleeding heavily from the forehead as more blood leaked from his lips, a deeper glare on his face even as he smiled, his features becoming much more feral in the process. "Very well then... I was considering the wishes of the Prince, but right now I don't care. I will kill you now."

"That's my line."

Suddenly, the two charged towards each other. Metal clashed against metal as they stabbed and swung, Alsius a little more stationary than the Wanderer as the smaller man leapt around, extremely agile. There were points where he leapt from ceiling, to wall, to shoot past Alsius and strike only to kick off the other wall to pass by and strike, blades often locking for brief moments only for things to become mobile once again-

With his attacks, the Wanderer often sheathed his blade, only to draw it again to unleash a chain of strikes. Any moment he could do this he did, it clearly a fundamental part of his style. As he moved, it was as if he left a trail of strange embers of black and purple in his wake, his body seeming to burn along the edges with these colors and his scar continued to blaze.

There was a point where Alsius did move, suddenly shoving the Wanderer against the wall as their blades locked, threatening to twist the blades around to slice the Wanderer deeply across the throat. However, the smaller man elbowed the Direwolf away, hard in the face, before leaping over him back towards the center of the room. Slowly, Alsius turned, wiping his mouth as he stepped forwards, spitting to the side.

A tooth bounced across the floor, sliding and spinning before coming to a stop.

Both yelled and once more charged each other. There was a snap as their blades clashed once again, both passing one another... Lora saw the blades clash and lunged, catching Cyril at the shoulders and knocking him to the floor as the end of Alsius’ blade buried into the wall right where his head had just been. They rolled off the side and once more to safety, where Lora held him against the ground and turned to keep an eye on the fight. The Direwolf slowly brought his now broken blade up to look at it, before looking over his shoulder towards the Wanderer who did the same behind him.

"The next time it will be your head."

When she was sure the men had no intent to harm him, she let Cyril up and moved between him and the battle, determined not to let him into danger any more. The Prince, meanwhile, quickly got to his feet, making no move to push Lora aside but instead just continuing to watch in a mix of fascination and horror.

Both turned to face one another again. Even with his broken blade, Alsius took his stance once more. There was another moment of stillness before he suddenly rushed forwards, the Wanderer's eyes narrowing.

"You never knew when to withdraw."

"THERE IS NO RETREAT! FLEEING AN ENEMY PROVES YOUR LACK OF DETERMINATION!" With his shout Alsius thrust his broken blade forwards, even though he was nowhere near the Wanderer. It sent the blade flying forward as a projectile, the Wanderer's bare hand flying up to knock it to the side, getting sliced in the process. He would not create an opening by blocking with his blade.

"You choose your pride over your life. Works for me."

Alsius reached the Wanderer at that point, swinging with his hand... And suddenly the belt he had pulled from himself whipped around, having been hidden in his grip. The Wanderer's eyes widened as the clasp struck his hand and cracked several of his bones, forcing his blade to drop.

"I HAVE YOU!" With a flurry of fists, Alsius forced the Wanderer to stagger back in a series of vicious blows, blood flying from the smaller man's lips from the sudden and severe blunt damage. Alsius wasn't done with that, suddenly kicking up his cloak from the ground, picking it up as he got around and behind the Wanderer. "THIS IS THE END!" He wrapped it around the Wanderer's throat, easily lifting the smaller man into the air. He was pulling the cloak too tight to simply try and strangle the Wanderer. He was trying to snap his neck.

The Wanderer struggled, eyes widened, before suddenly his hand went down to smack the end of his sheath, sending the other end upwards under the Direwolf’s chin. It forced the other man to get knocked back against the wall, the Wanderer leaping forwards to land and slide, slowly turning to face his opponent.

Both were breathing heavily, bleeding and bruised. It looked like the fight was coming to the end. Alsius brought up his hands, cracking his knuckles. "Shall we escalate this?"

The Wanderer, in return, brought up his sheath. Around it the air seemed to shimmer slightly, before a strange dark purple energy erupted into existence, forming a sharp looking blade that roared deeply. "Why not?"

And, suddenly, both were once more yelling as they charged forwards. However, one word was shouted louder than either of their yells, coming from behind both Lora and the Prince:

"ENOUGH!" The massive form of the Divine Paladin filled the doorway as he stepped through. Both the Direwolf and the Wanderer froze in place, their only movement being as they slowly looked towards Dubois as he continued to speak. "Enough with this pitiful display. Leave the past in the past. You are both in the service of Barcea now; act like it!"

There was a moment of silence as it looked like, very briefly, that both the Direwolf and the Wanderer might turn on the Paladin together... and then the tension almost completely released as Alsius left out a scoff, turning around to pick up his cloak. "Best duel I've had in ten years, and Ambrosia's attack dog ruins the mood. Typical." Cloak in hand he turned, walking past the Wanderer calmly as he said, "We'll just have to wait for the next opportunity."

"Don't die before then." The blade made around the sheath disappeared.

Alsius gave the Wanderer a brief smirk as he kept walking. "I'd be more worried about yourself." As Alsius approached, the Paladin stepped out of the way so that he could leave, but the Direwolf stopped just before the doorway. He looked to Cyril, calmly saying, "The Wanderer is useless to your cause... But Joachim Raizen, the Fearsome Phantasm, may have some use yet." With that, he kept walking forwards, turning and disappearing down the hallway.

The Prince didn't say anything to Alsius in return, only watching the man as he left before he looked towards the Wanderer. The short man still had that terrifying look on his face, his scar glowing brightly as the cracks in his eyes seemed to continue to deepen... and then, suddenly, the Wanderer drove his fist into his own face heavily twice, staggering with the second blow on himself with his head tilted back. When it came back forwards his gaze was still serious, but it was much softer with the cracks in his eyes gone and the glow completely missing from his scar.

"He apologizes for that display, Prince, Ms. Lora. It was probably inevitable."

"It's... alright." It took a moment for the Prince to speak, and when he did so he let out a heavy exhale. "So... you're really him, though?"

Joachim slowly nodded. "Yes, he was known as the Phantasm during the God King War... and he knows that he fought against the forces of Barcea more than once." He walked forwards slowly, taking a few steps before he knelt, bowing his head as he did so. "He understands if there is some punishment to pay for his deeds, and he will accept them. However, he asks you to spare his companion, as he believes affairs may get a little... messy if you attempt otherwise."

"So she's-"

"Chikako Momomiya, the Bone Thief."

"Makes sense in hindsight..." The Prince thought for a moment, before looking to the Paladin and giving a nod. The Paladin returned the gesture before he turned, beginning to leave as well while Cyril said, "I'll leave the decision to my sister, Kori. Until then, I ask you to stay with us and continue to offer your services."

The Wanderer rose, giving a nod as well. "He understands, and will comply. If you will excuse him for now, though, he must go attend his wounds." With that, the Wanderer turned to pick up his blade, sheathing it and placing it at his side as he quickly walked past the two with his head down. The Prince watched him go, before looking towards Lora and gesturing slightly towards the door as he too turned to make his exit.

"Let's go. And, uh, thanks for saving my head."

The Origin: A War Resumed (Arc One; Completed)

-screams incoherently-

So I was working on getting the post up this morning and my computer decided to not tell me it was nearly out of battery. Hour of work down the drain. Oh well.

Anyway, sorry about the wait for the fight, but for the overall story it's necessary. You'll see, it's a thing alright. Once it's up, going to be waiting for Raijin at the least to post for Drosil, and then with my next full post I'll transition us to midday the next day. I'm thinking I'll just describe all the way up to the fight, and your opponents, and literally stopping right as the fight begins. I'll then explain how I'd like these fights to be organized post wise, and then we can do it. Shouldn't be too hard.

The Origin: A War Resumed (Arc One; Completed)

@AtrophyWithout the barbed wire but somehow three times as deadly!

Edit: Also, PAYBACK'S A BITCH AIN'T IT. DON'T THINK I'VE FORGOTTEN ABOUT THAT CLIFF HANGER BACK IN THE CAPITOL.

The Origin: A War Resumed (Arc One; Completed)

Alright, so, gonna ask for another quick-as-possible turn around on this simply because the scene is very straight forward, and mostly planned out. I'll figure out exactly how I want to present the full nature of the scene depending on how many show up, but, with that said...

WHO WANTS TO SEE A GRUDGE MATCH?!

Also, in general, left pretty open for everyone to do whatever they wanted to do since the meeting until what is no the present, so yeah. Freedom. 'Muricah.

The Origin: A War Resumed (Arc One; Completed)

Various Places in the Arena of Gurata

As Gortul's big hands went out to catch the coin, the Prince quietly listened to what Dalious had to say. So the man was a pirate, which presented a unique sort of problem to the royal, but in a way Dalious brought up a way to deal with it. Having him fight in the arena, an enclosed space where he couldn't get away, was probably a good idea to make some use of him no matter what... But at the same time, the Prince couldn't help but be suspicious of the man's intentions. To just tell him that he was a pirate was a risky move, so perhaps Dalious had something else in mind... But his story about what happened far to the south just reminded the Prince of how desperate the situation was rapidly becoming, and that even more difficult days were ahead. What was one more minor risk to add to the pile?

"Sorry to say I haven't heard of you... but perhaps that's a good thing, since I'm willing to give you a chance at all. Consider this a start, Dalious; I don't know what you've done before, but I won't consider it atoned for with just one battle." With that said, he then looked to the next person who had offered to fight, and had to fight off the instinctive urge to refuse. It had more than a little to do with the fact that when he had last seen Lora, she (and he, for that matter) had been so young, and it carried over into a desire to protect rather than accept. Even as he thought this he corrected himself, acknowledging that Lora had grown, and if she felt like she was strong enough to help then he had no reason to stop her.

"If you're sure, Lora." He gave her a nod, and even as he did so he carefully adjusted to the side slightly as Vesta passed. At the woman's words he blinked in surprise, quickly looking over his shoulder at her back as she continued on. The Prince was no fool (though one could debate he had foolish tendencies); he knew that since their conversation the night before, things had been... tense with the woman. It showed through her words, and how he simply ignored her for the most part. He hadn't been expecting her to volunteer, but even with her apparent injury from long ago he had no doubt she was still a capable fighter. He nodded once more.

"Thank you, Vesta." Another person volunteered that the Prince could only hope for then, being one of the two that they had picked up in the village that they had saved. He gave the small woman a grateful nod, before glancing around briefly, looking for her companion the Wanderer. He almost missed the man, who had moved to a position to hide behind Gortul's bulk, but the Wanderer didn't even looked to the Prince or seemed like he would volunteer. The Prince was more than comfortable with taking what he could get, though.

"Very well then, traveler. Thank you." The last space after her was filled quickly by one of the possible recruits, Arvis. Though young, he seemed to have at least a little experience, so the Prince didn't feel like giving him a chance would have been too much of a detriment. In general, the group that had volunteered wasn't made up of the strongest fighters available to the Sentinels, but the Prince felt that there was more than enough strength overall to balance everything out. The Prince's hand came up as he turned to walk a little, patting Arvis on the shoulder.

"Alright, Arvis. Guess this'll be a way to see if you're up for what we do." Giving a calm sort of smile, the Prince's hand dropped as he turned to give one last look to those that had volunteered once again. After a moment, his calm smile gained more confidence as he gave another nod, pleased with himself and the group in general. The next day they would finally have the support of Gurata; the Prince gave no thought to the alternative, not even considering it as an option.

"Thank you again everyone. The day is yours to do with as you please now, just be ready for the fight tomorrow. Those who aren't fighting, make sure to be there, just in case. You especially, Diane, in case someone gets hurt." He looked to the Sentinel as he said this, who gave a nod while bringing up a hand to brush through her hair dismissively; her being there for healing was obvious. The Prince continued on to say, "Those of you who are fighting, make sure to eat well, get plenty of rest, and do whatever you need to prepare. Chiefs, is there anything else we need to know?"

"I'd say you're good, considering as you have eight, Prince." Kisarin said. "You won't know anything about the champions Seryosa picks for her side until tomorrow, but that goes both ways. For the time being don't sweat about it, because tomorrow is all that matters." Suddenly, a grin appeared on the Chief's face. "So with that said, who wants to gorge themselves and black out? You haven't lived until you've eaten with Guratans."

Yihira gave a very, very loud and exasperated sigh then, shaking her head as she rubbed her forehead. "I suppose he'll lead you to the dining halls, then. Those of you who want to remain coherent for a little while longer, come with me. I'll lead you to what I have in mind for your rooms, and then to the food. Other than that, I'd say the Arena is open to you all."

With that, the group split up once again, most following one Chief or the other. Those who followed Kisarin were led through the hallways and stairwells back to the first floor, where they were led through the double doors into the largest of the dining halls within the Arena. The room could only be described as beautifully chaotic as members of the various tribes dined together with a rambunctious attitude. Among the various Guratan natives were a few foreigners, those who had earned a place by fighting in the Arena, and seeing as the news had already spread about the fight to take place at noon the next day those who travelled with a Prince were treated in the same way. An unorganized band playing strange, old, and mostly percussive instruments were hard at work adding to the chaotic racket made by everyone else within the dining halls. More than once did a fight break out, often broken up by Kisarin himself as he held full sized men apart with the same ease that one might lift a kitten, but it did nothing to lower the overall mood of the dining hall, and in fact seemed to be another form of entertainment.

Those who followed Yihira were led to the second floor, to the rooms mentioned before. Even though they were in another nation entirely, the way the rooms were lined up along the curve of the hallway reminded the Sentinels of home, even if the general look and decoration of the Arena was very different from typical Barcean tastes. Each room was very simple, but at least enough for a single night.

Time passed as each member of the Sentinels and those travelling with them did whatever they desired to help it speed along. Some ate and enjoyed themselves, some prepared, and some kept to solitude. The Prince made it his goal to check on everyone to some degree, and for the most part he was successful, though there was one man who eluded him even after the sun went down outside and the moon began to rise: the Wanderer. The man had seemed to simply disappear after the Prince's dismissal, and Cyril hadn't seen him when he had gone to eat, nor at the rooms that had been provided for them. To begin with the Prince hadn't been too bothered by it, but now a sort of unsettled feeling had settled upon him for whatever reason, and sleep at least at the moment seemed impossible.

He made an opportunity out of the circumstance, and decided to walk through the Arena a little bit more, now that it was night and much quieter. Torches provided the halls of the Arena with decent light, though many Guratans had made different parts of the floor their place to sleep, whether due to too much merry-making or simply because they could. Cyril carefully passed through these parts to the more empty sections of the Arena, often going up and down the various floors.

It was on the third floor he found the Wanderer, something that made him blink in surprise. The small, odd man was standing in front of a closed door, staring out it without blinking. His hand hovered just a little above his sheathed blade, as if he were prepared to draw the curved weapon to cut the door down. It was a strange sight, made even stranger by how intently the Wanderer stared, all traces of emotion gone from his face... But for some reason, Cyril felt more at unease than amused.

"Wanderer?" At the sound of his voice, the man jumped slightly, his concentration breaking suddenly and his hand recoiling from his blade. Quickly, the short man looked in the direction of the Prince, blinking several times with a startled expression on his face.

"Prince? It's quite late, and you have a fight tomorrow. What are you doing here?"

"Decided to take a walk to clear my head. What are you doing?"

"Uh... It's... complicated........"

The Origin: A War Resumed (Arc One; Completed)

Alright, all the volunteering is done. I've got an exam to take today, but after that I'm gonna work on my next post to move us to the night, where the last big thing before the brawl will happen. That gives people a few hours to scream "PUT ON THE FUCKING BRAKES" at me, but I think right now it's okay.