Out of Character:
Open to one. Fite me, filthy casual. Four stock, Final Destination, no items, Fox/Marth/Falco/Capt. Falcon only
I really shouldn't be here.
Y'know, being a war criminal and all.
How long ago was it that the bounty was cashed in on my head and I was shipped to Eiskalt to be executed? You tend to lose track of time after they burn you at the stake twice and you accidentally discover that you're immortal now. And then, there was the whole business of being shipped off to Terrinore to be forgotten by the rest of the world, only to have a terrible storm crash your boat against the rocks and conveniently allow you to escape. And after that, there was a lot of hiding in the shadows, worrying that another bounty was put on you after prison officials figure out that their head count is one off where it should be.
And then there was some gathering of materials, bidding Diggs, Hedge, and my few remaining Crimson Hand contacts farewell, and retreating with my briarbane confidant Hyperion and zombified hulk of a bear Boris into the depths of Concordia.
We found a nice, abandoned fort days off the beaten path. A really good fixer-upper, with an intact tower that rose over the treetops and gave me a nice view of the sunrise. Plenty of space for the three of us and any other horrors that I might breed up in the laboratory. I found some stuff left behind by the Coronian Rangers, who must've used the ruins as a base at some point before or during the civil war, but nothing terribly useful or important.
It didn't take me long to lose myself in my work. It's amazing what you can accomplish when the world isn't breaking down your front door, accusing you of murdering half of everyone over here or creating a monster that destroyed everything over there. Months went by like days as I sent out briarbane to collect samples of various flora, fauna, and diseases to sate my curiosity and desire to experiment. I won't tell you exactly what I've been working on, of course. Every time I get excited about something, someone has to come along and ruin my glorious vision. You understand, I hope.
But even though I've been thoroughly enjoying the isolation and peace in my life, there are times that I get a little stir crazy, and I have some frustration that I need to work out by beating someone else to a bloody pulp. Today's one of those days. And so, I found myself at the legendary Citadel in Radasanth once more.
I really shouldn't be here. I know that deep down, every time I leave my little forest paradise I run the risk of being discovered, even though the last of my humanity burned away on that forsaken hunk of rock, even though I'm unrecognizable to everyone I meet. Call me paranoid, but I'd rather not run across anyone who might have a way to discover who I am and try to cash in on that knowledge.
The monks, if they knew who I was--and it was likely that they did--made no show of it as they showed me down the stone hallways that would lead to the room I'd do battle in. Bless them and their stance on neutrality regarding anything that happens outside these walls. We moved in silence, beams of colored light from the stained glass windows dancing across the dark fabric of my hooded shirt and mythril facemask with each step. I opted to leave my leather armor at home today. No sense in wearing it out when all of my cuts and bruises would simply be healed after the end of combat anyway.
The steel mace I kept at my side softly banged against my right knee as we came to a stop outside a reinforced oak door that looked exactly like every other one that lined the corridor. The Ai'Brone nodded towards it, and I gripped the handle with a briar-knit fist. Without another word, I opened the door to reveal the bright, shimmering portal that would transport me to a magically-constructed world where I could flay some poor fucker alive without consequence.
Home sweet terrible home, I thought to myself as I rolled up my sleeves and hopped in.
Out of Character:
Whoever takes up this thread can create the arena.