Round 1: Dargor Vs Rocher

[Silence Sei]

You each have two weeks to complete your battle. May the best man win!

[Dargor]

The horizon was illuminated by the sun's rays as the star ascended in the fateful morning's beginning. The blanket of light caressed dune after dune, each smaller than the previous one, before reaching a deep, vast forest, and the single building erected in the midst of it. Human expeditions coursing through the desert had regarded it all as a mirage, and with good reason. How could trees grow amidst the sand? How could anyone build anything in that arid climate without heavy machinery to carry the materials and to aid in the construction? It was simply impossible. For humans, that is.

It was one of the reasons why the magister, Vincent Fiorelli, found this place a safe haven to conduct his research on magic and other topics relevant to him. When he first arrived in Earth, he found the diversity in ecosystems, biomes, and species nothing short of fascinating. It took him a few months to study the full composition of the planet and to finally find a decent settlement to reside in. It had to be a place out in the open and very spacious; a place that wouldn't cause suspicion to arise and could keep unwanted visitors away. The midst of a forgotten desert in the middle of nowhere sounded very attractive at the time, so he decided to build his facility there.

The Fiorelli utilized his magic powers to grow trees out of several seeds he'd collected throughout the world, modifying the sand underneath his feet in such a way that they'd give each plant the life force it needed to subsist. Through employing the earth branch of his very own magic school and controlling each spell as best as he could, the magister constructed an enormous tower surrounded by a large lake filled with the most pristine and clear of waters. In its mirrorlike surface, the azure surface of the edifice was reflected daily, and every passing day, the mage conducted his experiments in complete solitude.

Or, well, near-complete.

"In this room, everything is dark. I was directed in here by my creator and told to 'wait until further notice'. Sounds familiar to you, does it not?" A silver haired individual enveloped in vibrant crimson robes repeated the words that had come out of his favorite Aspect's words. The only Aspect left. The only clone of all his most dominant traits who he had not absorbed yet, and doubted he ever would. A constant shadow kept the facial features of the man in red completely hidden from view, but he knew them well.

He, Kirisame Fiorelli, the last and most powerful of the Aspects who Vincent valued greatly. Not because of what Kirisame was, but because of what he symbolized. Kirisame was, possibly, the pinnacle of the magister's research into the psyche - into the mind: taking certain qualities and traits, and making them flesh and bone. This Aspect was important because it embodied every single one of Vincent's most prominent qualities, and the latter thought he would be worth keeping around.

"And I assume your being here means that you have a new mission for me!?" Kirisame blurted out with tangible excitement. Like his creator's, the Aspect's attire was of a pristine, regal crimson. Contrary to Vincent's, however, these robes possessed an astounding sun woven in with gold in the middle of its back, and several threads of golden silk constantly spiraling around their long sleeves. Whichever clothing Kirisame wore underneath, the linen shirt and the pair of silk pants, both white, were completely hidden from the view of outsiders. The pitter patter of a pair of leather boots' soles continuously touching down in a repetitive manner onto the ceramic tiles which comprised the floor further signaled the Aspect's excitement.

"As a matter of fact, yes. I'm sending you to the realm of Althanas." An azure glint of interest flickered for all but a brief instant in Vincent's hidden left eye as he spoke. "The people are gathering, mobilizing to meet in a single spot. Something that has scurried away from my gaze for too-"

"Oh! Oh! What is it!? Is it a war? Will I get to be in a war!?" Kirisame abruptly interrupted Vincent's speech, jumping up and down in mixture of sheer happiness and genuine anxiety.

"- for too long..." Vincent finalized his first statement with a sigh. "It is not a war, no; it is a tournament. I am sending you there so you can grow stronger." He pronounced these words whilst making a slow sweeping motion with his left hand from right to left. "I will, however, be limiting your skills for this. You will have to watch and learn. To analyze and adapt. To fight and survive."

"This is what I have been waiting for! A chance to truly prove myself while expanding the database in my mind! To further my own knowledge and to show you what I have learned!" Kirisame clenched both hands into fists and a smile caused his lips to split eagerly. He couldn't wait to arrive there and start fighting!

"Before you go, however, I have to tell you: I have already arranged everything for your participation in the tournament, all you need to do is find out a suitable place where to meet your opponent at and I will notify them of it. His name is Rocher and he's a dwarf, that should be enough for you to find him." Vincent spoke quickly to avoid an untimely interruption. Luckily enough, Kirisame was focused more on the actual fighting than in interrupting Vincent.

In the blink of an eye, the Aspect's emotional state returned to normal. He understood what his creator was about to do. And every single time, he hated it. It was a horrible sensation. With the ascension of Vincent's right hand, the darkness in the room began to 'grow' eyes. Eyes with a bright crimson iris and lots of black and white. Each eye seemed to be appearing out of a small rift in time and space, with two red ribbons coiled around the northern and southern ends of each rift. This was a technique Vincent had learned from a very old friend, and now he was using it to send Kirisame to the realm of Althanas.

He needn't even ask if the Aspect was ready. The latter had already been through this far too many times. The shadows covering the entire room in a pitch black area separated from the walls and began to close in on Kirisame, letting the sapphire structure beneath them shine once more. Ornate engravings covered every corner of the room and more of them were exposed by the second as the shadows continued shrinking and shrinking.

Kirisame's figure was taken in by the shadows until there was nothing else of him in the room. It felt like being sucked in by an enormous vacuum. The darkness coalesced into the form of a small sphere before disappearing completely. Vincent smiled, knowing the manipulation of boundaries to transport Kirisame to Althanas had been successful...

Corone, in the middle of the great forest of Concordia

Not a sound nor a whisper signaled the arrival of Kirisame to this region of the new and unexplored realm. Unexplored to him, of course, as many humans, elves, dwarves, and (he was sure) other races had already inhabited and walked on these lands for many, many years. The shadows opened up a gateway nearly five feet above the ground in a flat portal-like fashion. Vertically. And the Aspect fell through it, landing onto the grass beneath him with a loud thud.

"Hrngh... You could not have made me land on a soft bed of flowers, could you?" He muttered under his breath in an annoyed tone while he got up to stand on his feet. By the time he did, however, the dark gateway had closed inwards, ultimately disappearing from view and not even leaving behind any evidence that it ever existed. The Aspect was not impressed. His blue eyes scoured the area for any sign of civilization nearby, but the only roads visible hadn't been traveled in at least four days. Faint trails of a recent caravan gave considerable weight to this wild guess, so he figured out he was standing on a trading route.

The sun's rays rained down on the trees, filtering through the canopy and bathing the entire forest in a warm light. By scouting the place for about ten minutes, Kirisame discovered a few clearings large enough for several groups of people to set up camp. He figured the merchant caravans used these spots to rest before continuing on to whatever settlements the routes took them.

Without any prior warning, a smaller gateway appeared a few feet in front of the Aspect's body, five feet above ground level and in a vertical fashion just like the previous one. From within, a simple steel broadsword fell down in its respective sheath. Kirisame instinctively brought his hands to the sash around his waist, finding nothing there other than the piece of cloth. A few seconds later, a little piece of paper with a few words on it fell from the gateway before the latter closed. Upon catching it, and picking up the sword, the Aspect sighed with a relieved smile painted on his face. Throwing the note away to let it drift away under the weak breeze coursing throughout the forest, he made himself comfortable under the large trunk of an ancient tree. All he had to do now was wait for the dwarven opponent to show up.

"Don't forget your equipment next time. This is everything you have. - Vincent"

[Rocher]

Rocher farted loudly, the rumbling noise instantly rousing him from his slumber. He jumped to his feet and brought his fists up before him, ready for close quarters combat.

“Who's there now? Ye best be showin' yerself!”

The dwarf's bleary eyes darted around wildly, before he was sure that he was, in fact, alone. He raised a pudgy hand to wipe away the grime that was caked on his beardless face, but succeeded only in mashing the muck about even further.

The previous day, the dwarf had hooked up with a merchant caravel that was departing the small, shady town of Underwood. Rocher had slipped the merchant-leader some gold pieces for a flask of brandy and a ride on the back of the wagon train, and that was where his memory went a little fuzzy. He looked skyward. The sun was high indicating midday, and the crusty old dwarf silently applauded himself for getting up at a “reasonable” hour.

A shallow ditch ran alongside a seldom traveled road, and had served as Rocher's bedding for the evening. He honestly couldn't remember why he was ankle deep in mud and garbage, or what had become of the caravan that he had paid handsomely to take him to the city of Radasanth. A thought dawned on him, and he plunged his fat fingers into the gooey ditch-water, and beamed when he produced a glass bottle filled with a cloudy liquid. He raised the bottle to his face and gave it a sniff. The mud smelled of hard-boiled eggs, which suited him just fine as he counted them amongst his favorite foods, and the liquid within emitted a peculiar hint of brine. It had a yellow tinge and was cloudy in consistency, and small white bubbles floated on the surface, resembling spit, but Rocher was feeling lucky and took a chance.

“This ain't brandy...”

Come to think of it, he wasn't even sure if it was the same bottle he was swilling out of the previous evening. He shrugged nonchalantly and took a bigger, heartier swig, and climbed out of his dirty hole. Making his way onto the road, he stretched, and looked down at his feet.

“Didn't I have boots yesterday?”

Shrugging once more, he did a slow circuit of the immediate area, noting that he was surrounded by trees, and likely hadn't gone very far from Underwood at all. The clearing had a small cook-fire circled by fist sized rocks, but to his disappointment, all traces of food had either been cleaned up, or washed away by rain. Rocher started to get grumpy (earlier in the day than usual), and the ill-tempered, stocky grappler squinted, peering down the road in both directions. One option looked just as good as the other, so he picked one at random and started walking.

Marching down the road on nothing but his dirty soles, the surly dwarf threw rocks at local wildlife and cursed at cheery birds singing overhead. Every now and then he took a drink of his swill and with a final, noisy slurp, he finished its contents.

He perked up when, further ahead he noticed a figure sitting with his back to the trunk of a large elm.

“Heh heh heh...”

The mean spirited old codger cranked his arm back and rifled the empty glass bottle, and it flew end over end towards the poor, unsuspecting victim.

From where Rocher was standing, it looked like his aim was true.

[Dargor]

"I suppose this is all the aid I can ask for... From here on, it's me against my enemy."

Kirisame's mind gradually pushed all distractions away to allow for a complete focus on the task at hand. His back lay against the trunk of the tree and his gaze, always attentive, ascended from the grass to admire the canopy of the forest 'round the clearing. It was at this point - more or less - that the he began to feel the aura signatures of the environment, creating a small mental plane of the area around him as the sonar's range encompassed the full clearing.

Minute after minute passed by and the sonar only caught the local flora and fauna in its readings. Simple birds flying around - while singing - from branch to branch, sometimes diverting from the clearing to find food somewhere else within the forest; squirrels running through the grass only to climb the trunks of various trees throughout the woods in order to gather food or return to their homes.

He found all of this relaxing, though another part of him whispered that it was only the calm before the storm. The storm that would be the battle against an enemy he hadn't seen yet. That is, until he caught the shining glimpse of an object reaching the apogee of an ascending arc before coming to fall without stopping in its forward trajectory. A closer inspection of the incoming object, albeit brief, revealed that - whatever the object was - it was heading towards him.

Kirisame's trained reflexes allowed him to stand up on his feet and roll to his right a second before the bottle slammed against the tree's trunk, shattering into a number of pieces that he was not about to stop and count. In the blink of an eye, he was already standing, sheathed sword held by his right hand, gaze fixated on the possible point of origin of that bottle's former trajectory.

"Well, well... That's not how I'd expected to meet an ale-pissing barrel with arms and legs." Kirisame spoke with a tone of voice harsh and strong enough for the one who'd thrown the bottle to hear. It was clear that the guy was hostile, and from the aura readings, that he was a dwarf; that height and width were unique amongst them. Only one question remained, though: Was this guy a random bandit passing through or the opponent he was supposed to face for the Serenti?

"Now come out from behind those trees and let's see your ugly face. While you're at it, you might also want to identify yourself before me."

Kirisame knew that Vincent had more or less informed the other guy of this place, though the Aspect had to take all precautions while in this realm.

[Silence Sei]

Dargor advances to Round 2.