Ragnarok: Sacred Lie

[Tainted Bushido]

(For the purposes of this battle my partner and I are beyond the scope of their normal profiles. Once more this has been pre-approved between both parties. Furthermore, any and all bunnying has been worked out between us and allowed. We feel this allows for a more fluid and natural battle.)

Concordia Forest – The Bandit Brotherhood’s Retreat – 2019

"Yea, I ask of you to be a temptation unto the land, only not in voice but in action. Imitation leads others to the road of greater truths." The words were intoned with a stark reverence. The room was lit dimly, only enough to ensure one would not trip, but otherwise was immersed in shadows. No one could see each others faces as was required by admittance into this area. The church did not trade secrets lightly, and for their organization to work, destruction and havoc were their weapons, secrecy, their armor.

The room was a run down building, standing the test of time long after the Bandit Brotherhood that had once called this place their home had abanonded it in favor of the equally abandoned Sanctuary. Benches that were rotted and worn stood in rows, allowing a handful of people to sit upon them, tempting their god not to rot through the seat and dump them upon the floor. The smell of smoke and dust filled the room, a sign of the decadence that had befallen the once proud home of the Bandit King Yari Rafanas.

A figure stood against a back wall, a straw hat drawn low, covering the face and hiding it in shadows. This too was in keeping with the cult’s traditions, despite the fact this stranger was armed, unlike everyone else. Two swords were sheathed upon the figure’s hips, though they remained there, at the stranger’s side resolutely. The armor the figure wore was a pitch black, seeming to only absorb the light about him, drawing him deeper into darkness.

It was obvious this man was a guest from Akashima, however, who this man was was lost to the ages. No one could really say who or what he truly was. Bandages covered every inch of exposed flesh, and he seldom lifted that straw hat from his face. He had been attending these services what seemed like years, but in actuality were really only a few weeks. The figure only watched, listening from under that straw hat. It unnerved the priest from time to time, to see someone so battle ready, yet no one could ask for his weapons, if only to ensure the peace. Any attempt was met in the Akashiman tongue, and a hand hovered over the hilt of the swords.

So, the figure was left alone.

The figure raised the book high before continuing the sermon, “We are all the Children of N’jal. She has seen our weakness, and embraced us for this. She wishes not to give us succor from our problems, for only she understands the truth. In helping us overcome this weakness, it cheapens the victory, and robs us of strength we could have had. No, far better to fight, even if it was hopeless, and try to overcome our own weaknesses, than to allow a single stranger to aid us.”

“Remember our tenants, remember our promises to our mistress. Though she has not granted us the transcendence of flesh, she will one day, if we hold fast to her three rules. Never speak during the day light, this is the time of those arrogant fools, and we are to deny our Mistress during those hours. Only in doing this, can we truly evade suspicion. Second, we help no one, people are where they are as a test and only in fighting their own battles, can they pass this test,” He stopped, picking up a cup and drinking from it. He wiped his forehead of sweat, standing in front of a room of people, this man obviously wasn’t a noble, but a normal man, not used to such positions of power.

He looked upon his flock, and smiled, “Help is a weakness that she does not forgive, never forget this. Finally, bring forth the dead. Xem’zund the famous necromancer was a display of this raw power. Do not think that for a second he accomplished what he did on his own. Even if he did not acknowledge her help, N’jal blessed him for exhuming the dead and bringing them forth as a weapon against the elves.”

The man at the back of the room raised a gauntlet clad hand up, and lowered the brim of his straw hat even lower. A snort of derision left his lips, causing a few nearby to question the man with withering looks. The figure ignored them, as he had every other time. Still the preacher continued to preach for the world of N’jal, destroyer of Althanas.

[Zantetsuken]

A lone figure in a blue trench coat walked the dusty trailed road down the forest path. His eyes were heavy set with days of travel, bags under his eyes and a wisdom of terrible experience that such things could only bring hidden deep behind their hazel orbs. As he walked an air of depression seemed to follow, the leaves and the trees all flowing away from him, as if trying to escape being near this man. He couldn't blame them, for he had been alone for nearly ten years. In all his travel's he had only a few friends, and in the end he lost them all.

This man was known as Karel Hector Raven, the Saint of Swords. At his sides were the family of steel, Serra Karla Raven and the Karla Garnet Raven and they weighed him down just as heavily as the Zantetsuken did upon his back. All three blades stood silently by him through his ordeals, never judging the actions he carried out with him. The title of saint was an irony to him for he felt he had no saintly deeds to remember.

The sun was getting lower and lower as he traveled towards the Horogen Mountains, home of the last greatest bastion of the Knights of Apocalypse, a deadly and fearsome order of knights and magi who were about bringing the end of the world. Karel had fought one member of their order, a man named Vladimir Sigma deep inside an inactive volcano in Scara Brae and the two drew to a stalemate. This left both men bitter towards each other, and after twenty years of conflict and strife Karel was on his way to end the rivalry once and for all.

But despite the incredible power Karel had gained he still felt the ever growing power of human exhaustion. His body was getting tired of walking, and he needed a short break to rest up. Looking at his surroundings he had found a path that was carefully hidden off to the side of the road down by a ravine. Karel eyed the area carefully, his hazel eyes scanning for any threats, and then moved towards his destination following the road down a path deeper into the forest.

It took him a good ten minutes before he arrived a secluded building, and a man talked with reverence and power as if speaking to an audience. Karel figured the place was for worship and walked inwards towards the large wooden cedar doors. First thing he could clearly see in the fading sun rays was a dust from years of neglect, this church clearly not used often. Second off was all the shaded faces and hidden corners where people lurked. One man stood with an overly large straw hat off to the side, and he seemed uninterested in his demeanor as to what the priest was saying.

Sighing Karel lifted up his fighter's trench coat and popped the collars to better hide his face as he sat in a corner near the farthest end in the shadows. After a moment of taking a few deep breaths he grabbed his cantine and began to drink from it as he rested, oblivious to the words being spoken.

One thing was in Karel's mind, and that was the death of Vladimir, everything was was useless to him.

Today he would learn that it would have been wise to just keep walking...

[Tainted Bushido]

The figure looked at the swordsman who had walked in, the blue coat, the triple blades, they spoke volumes. It was however his demeanor, his attitude, and frankly the power that the Ronin could feel resonating within his frame that made him stiffen subtly. It was the difference between being lax, and being ready for the attack that he knew was coming. Tonight was to be the night he ended this farce, and for him to see the swordsman, did not bode well.

His hand shifted slightly as he moved forward, his steps even and echoing through the room. The priest who was overseeing the ceremony stopped, seeing the menacing figure move towards him, ever onward, ever up the aisles. He tilted his head in confusion, as the armor clad hand grabbed the edge of the hat, and threw it, revealing the face of the man in the room. Rather it would, had there not been a mask in the way.

Fourteen symbols painted in twin circles lined the edges of this porcelain mask. To any who looked upon it, the Kanji was definitely in keeping with the land of Akashima, though none would actually know the true meaning behind these Kanji, it was more than just words. More than just arbitrary values, they were the lifestyles he had embraced, the lifestyles of Shourido and Bushido.

White hair flowed freely over his shoulders, playing in the wind as he stepped forward, even now his eyes steeling as he observed the man. He looked upon the figure before the priest spoke, “What do you desire, my Akashiman friend?”

For the first time since the man had joined the group, he spoke in Tradespeak, his voice heavily accented, yet carrying a foreboding pitch, “I bring a message from N’jal.”

The priest raised an eyebrow in confusion before he nodded, “Yes, that would be?”

“Do not ever sully her name with you lips again, heathen.” Before the priest could react the Ronin had drawn his blade, arcing out to slice through the throat of the priest, before his victim had even hit the table the blade was brought about and down upon the next closest cultist. The process continued as only a handful of people managed to actually run before the madman had sliced through them. He stood in the middle of the room his shoulders heaving with the exertion, even as he turned to the last occupant of the room. The swordsman who had entered before the massacre had watched wide eyed as he saw the ronin before him slaughter the room.

When he spoke, his voice held no malice, as it drifted from behind his mask to the ears of the swordsman, “Regrettable, that you should have to see this. While I am allowed a few survivors, to learn from the mistakes began here, I cannot let you pass. Draw your blade Kensai, I do not wish to kill you unarmed.”

[Zantetsuken]

Karel hated life sometimes. He hated it when he watched his mother die in a fire, he hated it when he was captured by wood elves, he hated it when he was fighting Vladimir, he hated it when he was watching his homeland get burned to thousands of dragons, and he hated his life when he killed his infant nephew with his own swords. Today was another day he hated, because a friend from long ago had just committed a crime that would befit only Vladimir, and he was asking for Karel's blood.

The man before karel was known to the sword saint as Taka, or more appropriately, Grouper Taka for his dead serious personality. It was because of this history Karel didn't hesitate to lift his trench up and into the wind, Serra and Karla both at the ready as he dropped low into a defensive stance.

"What have you done this for Taka?" Karel asked. Taka only shook his head before he ran forward with his blade taking a swing at Karel. It was an ordinary blow, nothing to kill or harm, just a probing blade attack. Karel responded with a half hearted horizontal swipe that blocked the blow, but his arms tensed under the pressure that Take exuded. Karel dropped back doing an attack of his own, his speed growing as he watched Taka drop low and roll back to his feet. He lifted a portion of a shattered chair with his left foot into the air, twirling with all his might slamming his right foot into the wooden weapon sending it soaring at the sword saint.

Karel lifted a single sword forward, his other blade held loose at the side as the chair shattered against the blade. Karel took one breath as he held himself rigid, ready to strike like a snake. He couldn't get a look at Taka's eyes like this, and it infuriated him. He wouldn't have done this, not the same man who had fought with Karel on civil terms to be the aspirant to the title he now wore.

"I'll ask again Taka, what is the meaning of this?" Karel shouted, his tone deadly serious. Taka one again jumped forward, his blade doing the talking. Infuriated at this feeling of betrayal his heart was felt Karel dropped forward low under the vertical strike. The blade cut deep into a pew, and Taka easily released the blade from the wooden prison, sending splinters at Karel's face.

Karel brought his free arm up to block his eyes feeling his body get hit deep in the stomach by Taka's foot. The follow up knee smash hit Karel in the chest, but he looped his arms around Taka's leg and lifted the Akishima warrior upwards over Karel, falling to the gorund so his back was against Taka's stomach flattening him on the ground. Karel's elbow shot out hard and a loud crack exloded into the air.

Taka's mask crumbled in a few places before it slid off, and Karel got a good look at his old friend's eyes. They were not possessed, they had a calm to them, a calm of a warrior who was focused on the battle at hand. Before he could react his momentary daze at seeing Taka cost him, the Bushido warrior using his hips to rotate his legs up and around Karel's head. Karel felt his head was in a vice before the strength of Taka kicked in again, launching the Saint of Swords airborne.

Karel stabbed the ground above his head so that the speed slowed and he rotated easily back to his feet sliding a few feet away from Taka. "TAKA! YOU OWE ME AN EXPLANATION!" Karel shouted angrily. "For all we have been through," Karel pleaded. "Why have you turned on me?"

[Tainted Bushido]

The porcelain mask was half shattered, the bits cutting into his skin to the point that the mask was more an irritant. The half that showed to Karel was merely set in his usual serious face, the face of the Kensai he had been trained to be. He closed his eyes as he watched the swordsman stare at him, demanding an explanation for his actions. He could feel the waves of anger towards him rolling forth, seeking to carry him away with the tide.

An armored hand rose up and carefully shifted the mask, releasing the straps that held it in place. Slowly he removed it, revealing the truth to Karel, who had sought it so full heartedly. This was the truth that had stained Taka, and forced him to walk the path of damnation. He looked forth upon the man, and saw the surprised reaction, the disgust and the pity buried in Karel’s features. He didn’t blame the man, not after what he had just endured, but he did so all the same, while he held the mask out to the side, and crushed it in the vise like grip of his hands.

Half of his face was blotched in patches of darkness, tendrils of which filtered down his neck and further across his body. His eye, the one held within the grasp of darkness was a milky white, but saw as fine as the other one, if not better. It looked into the betrayed swordsman’s eyes before the word’s issued forth, “Time has not been kind to me Karel Hector Raven. We were Kai Atari’s greatest students, and while I did conquer more of the students than you, despite being a better swordsman than you, despite Kai Atari admitting both these things to me, my path to redemption was shut before my eyes.”

A wistful smile crossed his face, before it hardened once more; he took no pleasure in killing his friend today. He looked upon the swords saint before more words marched forth, “Hoturi had warned me that my damnation would not allow me to be the Saint. He did however insist I go to Sospita Island and try anyways. He felt Kai Atari could teach me more about fighting in a few days, than I could in a lifetime. You remember the trials Karel, we were taught many things, and expanded far beyond the bounds of the normal swordsman. No one left that island untouched by the lessons of the Sword Saint. Imagine my surprise, when I was put in the running anyways, and taught one of the sword saint’s techniques.”

Immediately Taka gripped the gift of Kai Atari. In what had to seem like instantaneous movement he was behind Karel and slashed deeply into the Kensai, his Katana sticking out of the man’s chest and moving out slowly. A flick of the wrist saw the blood flicked off his blade as he waited for Karel to drop, knowing this wasn’t the end; he merely took up a defensive stance.

“You are far better than this Karel, do not insult Kai-sensei. Show me why you fight,” Taka replied firmly. His eyes never left the swordsman however he knew that he was being watched. This would certainly be the fight of a lifetime. Still, he remained still and waited for the swordsman to get up, knowing that Karel would know damn well that Taka had purposefully avoided a crippling blow, by missing both organ and tendon, merely cutting into muscle.

[Zantetsuken]

Agony was a feeling Karel had always expected to be used to, considering he had bent his knee to the feeling more than once in his life, but it wasn't the blow that brought Karel down to one staggering leg, but the act behind it. A warning first, the last gift Taka would give to Karel was the knowledge that this fight wouldn't end on friendly terms. He stood up, breathing heavy as blood began to pool out his shirt. He ripped the shirt off, his smooth skin showing a lifetime of scars and wounds that never really healed.

"I understand all that Taka," Karel said sagly. "I know Kai told you those things. But I was picked anyway." Karel sighed heavily. "I have killed men who had fought me for the title I wear, one so hellbent on my life being ended that it cost me the one woman who loved me, but this isn't about titles or the past anymore is it now?" Karel said soothingly as he reached his hand up and popped his neck of the stress he felt building.

"Kai didn't teach only you a few moves. You can't embrace the magic of the blade, like I could. You could only learn physical prowress, and while that movement is freakishly fast, I have grown to a new height as well." Karel lifted his blade out to one side, and the world before Karel began to turn black and white around Taka's left side. Karel walked in that gray world, Taka's eyes unable to follow him as he slowed down the very fabric of time. As he walked casually he took the Serra Karla Raven, a drip of blood dropping from Taka's side before he was gone in an instant.

"You see, time is not kind to anyone, but it is on my side." Karel said sadly. "He lifted the veil of time again, Karel stopping all time around him. Sure enough the Bushido warrior was locked inside the time paraylis, his body unable to move as he was stuck in the fabric of time. Karel took both blades and cut. The Serra Karla Raven tasted blood from Taka's flesh as he swung horizontally, Karla Garnet Raven digging deep as he slashed vertically with his other blade. The sword Saint lifted his boot up and released his hold on time, Taka's face lighting up in confusion as his face was planted into the ground beneath Karel's boot.

He took a few steps forward before he dropped both blades low to the ground in a ready stance, his back to Taka. "I think the process of feeling each other out is over now, my old friend. Let us fight like warriors." Karel's eyes looked to Taka, a hint of sorrow in them as the blood flicked off the blades of his family.

[Tainted Bushido]

“I don’t think you understand my friend, that was not all he told me. There is more to your story, and even now, you don’t fully understand,” The ronin Taka slowly pulled himself to his feet before stretching, the black ichor of his body leaking out of his back even while he rose to his full height. Two friends locked in the realm of battle, neither willing to budge.

Karel seemed confused by his words even as he looked upon the rising swordsman. His eyes betrayed that curiosity. Taka knew now was not the time for explanations, though he did not envy the sword saint. Instead he ignored the look as he continued forward, unabated by the swordsman. Karel seemed on defense even as he wielded both blades in a style very reminiscent of the style Hoturi had begun teaching him, all those years ago.

“My original Sensei had a word for a fight like this, foolish,” Taka said ignoring the question. He then choked up on the hilt of his Katana, even as he subtly shifted his stature. He had adopted one of the fighting styles of Akashima, even as he looked to be taunting the swordsman to come at him. Karel seemed to bite as he came forward, only to find this was no taunt. Taka moved swiftly his blade slashing out to send Karel back. The other swordsman found his momentum shifted back as the blow struck strongly against his blades.

Taka merely continued the assault moving forward while slashing, each blow forcing the sword saint back, even as he turned to using both blades to block. The tainted ronin shook his head as he lashed out with a kick that winded the swordsman. The man hunched, and rather than taking advantage of it he shifted back, once again moving at incredible speeds. The swordsman looked at him incredulously, and seemed to question the behavior. Still Taka refused to talk straight, his only words were simplistic, “Karel, how do you beat a level headed opponent?”

The question seemed simple as Taka sheathed his Katana, seeming to not even show care. Still he faced the swordsman, once more shifting his stance, as his hand hovered above the hilt of his Katana. To anyone who knew the swordsman, they knew what was next; he had merely freed himself to perform perhaps his fastest strike.

[Zantetsuken]

Karel's body was in a daze as he couldn't keep up with the physcial speed of Taka, one small flash of a moment presented itself, and instead of exploiting Karel wasted it away, not wishing to end his friend. There was still a chance Karel could talk sense into the man, and he owed that much to him.

Taka's words fell flat on Karel except the question, a simple one really. It had a multitude of answers, each fitting the user in question to counter such level headed opponents. The answer Karel settled on was simply be level headed back. He didn't charge in front of Taka, knowing full well if he would to come near he would only receive the bite of the ronin's blade. He had to beat him out somehow.

"Taka, you amuse me even in our fight," Karel laughed joyfully as he smiled, his eyes lightening his hostility. Taka rose a single eye brow in interest, and the Saint of Swords replied in kind. "Grouper Taka, always so solemn, so serious." Karel replied. He walked slowly around the Bushido warrior, and his voice lifted.

"I want you to do one, just one push up grouper Taka, just one." Karel said mocking the voice of a man both knew all to well. "And you spent all day trying to do a push up Taka. That spring he put on your chest was desgined to make it nearly impossible. Yet you thick headedness just shined through, and you did it. Than Sensei Atari came up to you, and used the device he made. One handed push up, all you had to do was push the lever." Karel sighed as the memory returned, the entire group all laughing at Taka, who couldn't understand the joke.

"What happened between then?" Karel asked as he lashed outwards. Taka's blade sung forward and blocked the blow, both men face to face. Karel's eyes longed for understanding to see why his friend had changed. "You didn't use to be like this Taka!" The ronin head butted Karel, sweeping off Karel as he launched the sword Saint back. The dust kicked up as Karel slid backwards, keeping his feet planted to stop from lifting off the ground.

Karel knew he had to put up some form of a fight, the battle going to one sided. Using his time manipulation he created a path for him to run, but as he tried to get near Taka he couldn't get past the fact that the Bushido warrior was faster than Karel. Annoyed karel let out his frustrations revealing himself.

"Taka, you were always brash, despite how calm you tried to be." Karel lifted both blades outwards as he shouted out into the heavens. "Holy blades of Bartholemew!" And with a sudden stirring the wind picked up in the area as golden replicas of Karel's blades shone forth around him as they began to spin wildly. Dust circled the Sword Saint as he ran, the blades following him. At last he knew what would happen did. Taka's ability to move swiftly was countered, a look of surprise on his face as the blade's blocked his own katana's, unable to believe the holy blades were fast enough to stop him. Karel dove out with a hand, grabbing the wrist of one of the blades twirling his free hand out grabbing the Karla Garnet Raven and stabbing Taka in his foot planting him on the ground. Karel lept back, the blades still whirrling around him like a tornado.

"Now Taka, let's level the playing field," Karel rose a single hand upwards pointing at his opponent. "Holy blades of Bartholomew, Splinter Soul!" The golden copies of Karel's blades stopped spinning before each flew forward at Taka, their speed creating a whistling noise in the air.

[Tainted Bushido]

Karel had pinned his foot to the ground, then proceeded to send the swords at him as fast as he could. Taka didn’t react at all to the sudden development, only staying still as the blades came forward. Taka once more chocked up on the hilt of his Katana, hand against the cross guard as he begun to swing hard. He was no mystical warrior, he had no magical apititude or secret quasi-magical talent. He was just a swordsman, and very good at what he did.

So when Karel sent them at him in a line. He only smiled as a Wakizashi was pulled from its saya, and together both began to be swung in a tandem that proceeded to knock each blade off course. Once the final blade had been sent into the nearby pews, splintering and destroying them in a cloud of dust and smoke, Taka let a smile grace his face. Karel looked upon his friend unknowing of how the Ronin could be standing, even as he looked upon the Sword Saint.

A casual flick of his wrist uprooted the blade from his fot, before he rushed the sword saint, ignoring the pain of having a blade swung through his feet. He struck callously and harshly with the two blades, interestingly enough juggling the third with each strike of the swords, adding its own strike to the mix in an obscenely hard juggling act. Karel seemed put off by the third sword dancing amidst the battlefield between them.

“You should try harder my friend. In the field of battle, the first casualty must always be the heart, for if it is not, then the first casualty shall be those who cannot lose their heart in battle my friend,” He continued the dance before he lashed out with his bad foot, “I have forgone this necessity, out of respect for your destiny Karel. Do not force me to kill my heart this fight.”

His eyes looked deeply into Karel’s eyes as he hoped the swordsman could pick up the implied course of action.

[Zantetsuken]

Karel took the sudden blows with a grace he half expected to falter, but it wasn't really anything fancy more than a necessity. Taka's body moved fluidly as each blade struck the air and Karel couldn't keep this going for longer he summarized.

Using his feet as an anchor Karel leaned all the way back as far as he could striking horizontally at the legs of Taka, the ronin easily moving downwards to block it. As he did so Karel's body leaped up so he became parallel with the ground, using a bicycle kick to knock the Karla Garnet Raven out of the tainted warrior's grasp. Karel followed up by slowing the beat of time, easily catching his blade and landing with his right hand rotating on the base he made with his fist and kicking Taka in the head.

Time returned and the ronin stumbled to the ground, his body stumbling to the ground before he rolled up to his feet weapons drawn. Taka was half expecting to see the Sword Saint waiting for another attack, yet to his surprise Karel was done with the games. His body charged forward, both blades held out wards ready to strike. Taka blocked blow after blow easily, never losing ground as the attacks Karel did just weren't fast enough.

But that was what Karel wanted him to think. As he struck blow after blow Karel at last began to think of ways to defeat Taka, his mind always coming back to one conclusion. Yet he didn't want to do the attack on him, for Taka was still his friend. But in the end he had no choice. With a sudden clarity Karel dove back and stabbed forward, slowing down time. Taka didn't move fast enough as the sword saint's blade bit deep into the ronins side. Karel leaned into the attack so his mouth hovered by the Ronin's ear.

"Zantetsuken Forbidden Art," Karel whispered solemnly. "Blood of a Thousand."