Shinsou Vaan Osiris moved like a shadowy wraith through the streets of Radasanth and towards the Citadel, dressed in standard black attire underneath his trademark white greatcoat. Once again he had found himself with free time and busied himself, as he always did, with sifting through a number of potential challenges for duels – Shinsou considered a regular bout at the Citadel necessary training for a man whose job it was to constantly enforce the will of a political body onto those around it – but today had thrown a proverbial cat amongst the pigeons. The Brotherhood’s Council had selected something more to Shinsou’s taste after he had disposed of his last opponents with relative ease and this time they had not disappointed the powerful Telgradian.
This time the subject was Sir John Cromwell.
The morning rain drummed in sheets and beat down on the Telgradian's scalp , but he enjoyed the refreshing coolness of it and the way it cleared the road of people who weren’t out on necessary business. As he strode towards the looming modern day gladiatorial arena, the Telgradian flicked through the moist pages of the Brotherhood’s report and offered the text a cursory glance, although he didn’t really need to read the intelligence on his subject. After all, he had seen first hand what Cromwell was capable of from the shadows of his own little game; the Osiris Open.
Seven foot eight and over five hundred pounds. Living armour that can mould to his every whim. Despite his weight and his size he moves like a bullet and damages just as badly. Some might say he’s the complete package.
He smiled but it wasn’t unreasonable for him to do so, even in the face of adversity. People were, usually, naturally nervous of those who wielded power, but not Shinsou. He craved a challenge. He loved to push himself to the limit and then find the strength to smash that limitation to pieces to reach new heights. He was determined to get fitter and stronger with every battle until there was no-one who could truly oppose him.
The big bastard’s never met anyone like me before. His reputation precedes him; he likes a fight, so by the gods I’ll give him one he’ll not soon forget.
The Citadel soared over Shinsou’s wet head as he approached its looming entrance. This famous cathedral of war sent spires and towers arching high into the dull sky above, rainwater cascading down the face of the legendary structure and out of the mouths of the gargoyles protruding from its stone. It was far too imposing a structure to see in its entirety and too tall to see where the towers jutting from atop it ended. Shinsou knew it also extended deep into the ground, connecting to a labyrinth of passages that ran under the city. There were hallways and entire wings inside the building that there simply wasn't room for within the walls.
As Shinsou entered the vast, legendary Citadel, the sonorous tune of magic, which could not be heard in the ear, reverberated throughout his gut. He could feel the power of the Ai’Bron monks flowing through him; a power he could not fully understand nor measure. As he twisted left and down a corridor, one of the Citadel’s monks intercepted him.
"Osiris? Good, the council forewarned us about your arrival," the monk piped, "Everything is prepared."
"Good," Shinsou said, turning to the shaved bald, almost adolescent monk beside him. "Lead the way." The monk, peering up at Shinsou through the darkness, nodded his head.
***
The swirling blue mass in front of him hummed and whirled as the plasmatic substance it was comprised of from bent and curved to fit Shinsou’s slender form. Strange tentacles of white and marine blue converged on his body and snatched him into the gravity well, pulling him through sheets of reality before finally depositing him into the artificial, magically created arena.
Everything spun into focus slowly.
Unlike the last time, there wasn’t a two foot gap to negotiate between the lip of the gateway and the floor. The Telgradian realised the portal had placed him perfectly on his two feet and recognised the feeling underfoot to be appear to be that of some sort of wet moss covering a hard stone floor. As Shinsou placed one foot forward, the heel of his boot slicked over the lichen and nearly made him unceremoniously lose his balance. Righting himself, he pushed a hand through hair that was now long, brown and rain-soaked. Shinsou’s white greatcoat hung open from the near fall, revealing underneath a black shirt tied with a red sash at the waist.
He allowed himself a moment to compose himself. In this time, Shinsou’s soft, golden eyes wandered about the skyline to survey the arena sprawled out ahead of him. The first thing he noticed was that the Telgradian was surrounded by curling wisps of cloud that accented an ocean blue sky.
Whoa. How far up are we?
Shinsou began to pace carefully forward, minding the slippery surfaces. The sodden crust of a mossy limestone path carved a puddle-ridden garden in two and stretched out in a thick, long line ahead of him.
The Telgradian noted that the stone slabs that made up the floor were covered with ancient runes that themselves were smeared with grime and watermarks, so much so that Shinsou couldn’t make out any distinguishing patterns as he walked. Fresh leaves billowed in the breeze about the walkway, fallen from healthy oak trees that formed a corridor at the sides of this levitating sanctuary. As his footsteps squelched over more sodden moss, the refreshing scents of fresh summer air and cool rainwater revitalized the Telgradian's senses.
It's a good place for a fight like this; it sharpens the mind.
Just ahead, an ancient, dilapidated fountain stood in the centre of a huge, glass surfaced circle that served as some sort of intersection between the two opposing pieces of the huge walkway. The algae stained and ivy shrouded statue of the goddess that formed its structure stood at least twice the height of Shinsou and there was a wall that encircled the inner pool.
The Telgradian noticed that the wall seemed to be topped with some sort of natural crystal material that jutted out and formed two tracks that ran down the sides of the fountain and ran spuriously off in opposite directions down the walkway, embedded into the rock floor itself at surface level.
It was then, as his eyes followed the tracks, that Shinsou paid more attention to the floating temples.
There seemed to be seven of them, all floating in a stationary orbit above and around the fountain area. The two story buildings seemed to be made from the same sort of ancient grimy limestone that the rest of the sanctuary was, and finely carved statues of angels adorned the edges of these temples and their massive, broken wooden front doors. Their more prominent features seemed to be their metallic halos, each uniquely coloured and breathtaking in their beauty and refinement. Unlike the rest of the arena, these seven spinning rings didn’t seem to be worn through age.
Impressive. It seems almost a shame to be testing my powers here, to be honest. I quite like this place.
As if the thought had reminded Shinsou of the purpose of his visit, his wandering mind snapped back to the matter at hand. Other than the whistling of a cool breeze and the rows of trees flickering and rustling their branches in the wind, the walkway was as silent as a crypt. The Telgradian had sensed no presence from the minute that the portal had torn its grasp away from him and deposited him on the platform on which he now stood waiting. Intriguingly, though he was quite clearly alone, Shinsou had started to feel something tickling the pit of his stomach. Powerful threats, or those with a large magical potential, often registered as a throbbing pulse within his body with the intensity and timing of the pulses increasing with the opponent’s power. But this was an odd feeling indeed, something new to him.
As the Telgradian waited, the feeling thickened from a tickle to a sweeping motion within his gut.
He's coming. Don't waste any time exchanging pleasantries, Shinsou, just go for the bastard's throat the second he steps foot here.
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