Will You Play Dolls With Me, Nox Nyctores?

[KOA]

With a clash of metal ringing against metal the wind picked up in the small open cavern, the sunlight from the mouth casting long shadows upon the walls that the several torch lights danced with in the glow of their ambient illumination. With a crash of lightening and a roar of thunder the ringing went on with another brutal strike. The dance continued on as the two shadows moved with speeds that pushed humanity to the limits.

In the center of a training area meant for sparring were two warriors. Both dressed in what could pass for normal attire with one wearing an ensemble of black vlince pants, a fine silk white shirt and dark crimson vest had a very western Salvarian feel to his attire. It was made all the more puzzling with the Wo Dao style katana he held in his hand that glinted off the edge of the firelight. His hair was shoulder length and in a tangled mess of one who gave no care to his appearance, though a thin line of a goatee shaped his mouth in a beguiling manner, golden eyes peering to his opponent on the opposite end of his blade with a Cheshire grin lining is lips.

His opponent wore a simple blue shirt under his white tailored coat, high collared and rather fancy that seemed to be carefully tended to constantly. His straight brown hair lined the sides of his face, cupping it down to his neck where it fanned out behind him in a stunning manner. His glacier like blue eyes gave a cold detachment to the man before him, his boots shifting softly in the dirt, grinding it beneath his heel as his hand hovered near a saber firmly attached to his belt. Where his style came from in fighting prowess owned much to the Akashiman art of quick drawing, a unique and deadly art that suited the katana he faced down instead of the saber his hand hovered over.

In the blink of an eye the saber escaped the scabbard, the sound of oiled leather scraping polished steel rang a noise that was a whisper of the wind heralding impending death. The Wo Dao lifted up in a vertical cross strike, the two blades colliding again. Without skipping a beat the two men’s feet began to move in a dance, the older man trying to run the younger (though not by much) man’s body through. The Saber wielding swordsman twirled inwards, his body just whisking away as the saber came in a horizontal strike. With a stiff shove of his arm the katana wielder kept the man far enough away that he could jump opposite the faster man, tumbling to the side and lifting himself up in one fluid roll.

The pressure remained constant as the saber now darted forwards in swift, elegant swipes that the katana had no speed to match. Still, with grim determination the owner kept his guard up, and when the blade swiped downwards the katana came up in a violent arc knocking the weapon wildly upwards exposing the man’s chest. With a downward strike the katana fell, a deathblow meant to end lives had it connected. The dirt lifted up in a small spray, the warrior allowing himself to twirl to the side with a slight grunt of effort. It took a moment for him to regain his saber’s balance, but in that one moment he prepared a thrust.

The katana cut the air with a loud swoosh, the blade tossing itself horizontally to block the thrust as the two’s feet moved together in tandem to face each other once more. With a nod the katana wielder pressed the attack again, his blade drafting outwards in a feint as he cut inwards. In one smooth motion the saber followed the feint, but rolled back in time to easily parry and throw the second attack off guard. Now stumbling forwards a closed fist connected with face, a wild haymaker that threw the warrior through a loop. When he regained his bearings he had but one split second to lift his weapon up to parry the blow of the saber’s throat thrust. Another thrust and the katana had to scramble to parry that as he fell into a hastened retreat, each thrust a direct lunge aimed for a vital organ.

“Something has angered you, Troy Priam,” The katana wielder chuckled as he parried yet another blow, using both hands to throw more weight behind the attack, but it was no use, the saber broke through for a quick swipe that cut the left part of his vest splitting it open. Troy’s saber lifted upwards in a flourish as it came down in a dazzling display of zig zag cuts that forced the man to hasten backwards with a jumping retreat. There was enough distance for him to lower the katana and bring it up over to his shoulder in a ready position. The saber calmly cut the air but once before returning to the scabbard, where the blade rested for another swift attack.

“But whatever could you mean, Vladimir,” Troy’s response was cool and collected, full of little to no emotion. Yet Vladimir Sigma, last Knight of the Apocalypse, had been around the man to know when exactly his temper was flaring. Unlike most, Troy became even colder and far more determined when upset. “My family is back in town, if anything this should be cause for a celebration.” Vladimir slowly inched his way forward in a low stance, Troy knowing full well he could dart out quickly like a viper or step into a two handed blow his blade would not be able to hold back. He lowered his stance as well, his hand near his blade ready to strike like a cornered snake as well.

“Family like ours is no reason to celebrate,” Vladimir said gruffly, and to that point he held no jokes to it. Vladimir Sigma had, after all, been known to only decimate an entire island nation called Black Archipelago. He released several hundred dragons upon the three islands and torched it to the ground to avenge the death of his parents at his brother in law’s own stupidity. A man whose house he was currently staying at in the peaceful town of Irenes, which Troy Priam was the Captain of the Guard for. It would be best to dwell on these troubling, if not hard to believe, facts another time, but suffice to say it will all be explained in time.

“My sister is smiling again,” Troy replied with a bit of force. “I should be happy,” he continued on, his body moving in tandem with Vladimir’s footstep for footstep as they circled the other. “Why do I care that he abandons her for months at a time, leaving her with his only son to grow up without a father. His life isn’t mine.”

“So it does bother you,” Vladimir continued on. He played his cards slowly, enticing Troy forwards and onwards. “That he’ll be leaving soon again. Perhaps in two days this time. We’ve no real reason to dally this one.” Troy’s face showed no emotion, but the heavy sigh from his lips belied his irritation with his brother in law Karel Raven.

“No more so than the eleven other times he has left. At least this time he returned in one piece instead of in a comatose state.” Vladimir chuckled recalling that adventure. Yet his foot slid forwards, another inch closer to tempt Troy out with. Troy’s foot slid forwards as well, tempting Vladimir’s blade forwards so that he may dodge under it and slice the man in half. A game of chicken had begun.

“How is my nephew?” Vladimir asked sincerely. Troy gave a moment’s silence, before he replied in a gentle, soft spoken tone.

“He is well and acting like a baby should. Rebecca has birthed a beautiful boy.” Vladimir, despite all the anger he held within his heart, let out a genuine smile.

“May he be smart enough to leave the sword behind,” Vladimir whispered about his brother. “You’re closer than usual, Troy. You’re are tempting me to strike. Soon I’ll be able to counter your attack. Best pull back before I enter your slow zone.” Vladimir was referencing the space where it took time for the saber to draw speed, a split area where his blade would be faster, no matter the timing. He knew Troy to be good, but he wasn’t that good.

“Seems then the ball is in your court. Strike, Vladimir, I grow tired of your head games.”

“At least they are working,” Vladimir replied with a laugh. Silence fell between them as they moved forwards, their blades held at the ready in position. Troy let the air around him tense up. They were four paces away from one another. With a deep, cleansing breath both men shuffled one step closer. Now they were two paces away. Striking distance of either blade. Vladimir half stepped forward without Troy’s attention, getting within the zone he warned him of. Time to show his folly.

With a strike that was swifter than a cobra the Katana lunged forwards, the blade corkscrewing forwards as both hands pushed towards Troy’s chest. The blade caught a reflection of the light from outside illuminating the inscription’s upon the metal, the worn handle glowing as Troy’s hand swiftly rolled to his pommel and with a ringing noise the blade was drawing out too slow.

“Son of a bit-“

[KOA]

“You’re too slow Vladimir,” Troy whispered as the saber leaned against his chest in a very clear fatal strike, Troy’s body hunched under the outstretched blade. They held like that for a moment, before with a gentle pat on Troy’s shoulder Vladimir tossed his blade on the ground. Troy lifted himself back up and nodded to Vladimir, his blade returning to his scabbard with a soft wet noise before it clinked into place. The two gave each other appraising looks before Vladimir let out a hearty laugh, shrugging kicking his blade up into his hands before he sheathed it and offered the weapon to Troy.

“You bastard,” Vladimir chuckled. “You got even faster somehow. Let me guess, training with Guy?” The immortal spoke of Sheex Deltin’s son, Guy, who was an aspiring swordsman.

“I suppose that would be a logical guess,” Troy muttered looking to Vladimir’s sword with annoyance. “Done already? I figured we had enough light for one more round. I am only one up on you,” Troy offered sincerely.

“Unlike Karel, I know when I’m beat. And three to four isn’t bad in my book with you these days. Well done coming back in those last two rounds.” Troy gave a shrug of a response. He didn’t really brag about his sword skill, but did take pride in it. Vladimir had enjoyed getting an opportunity to spar with someone who could keep up with his advanced techniques and years of experience. “Did you need me to go another round?” Troy shook his head.

“Merely offering you a chance to even the odds. As I said, I was only one up.” Vladimir shook his head. “Very well then, I will be off. Noel is cooking duck, I would be a fool to be late for dinner.” Vladimir felt his mouth water at the word Noel’s duck. For a woman who flatter than a board, an appeal of a banana peel, and a charm of a whiney brat who cried too much she sure knew her way around a kitchen like Vladimir knew a sword.

“Lucky you, but next time, I’ll be the one up on you,” Vladimir taunted to Troy as the man placed the two blades on the saddle of his horse. Vladimir whistled loudly and a burly war horse trotted forwards from the meadow not far off the cave mouth. The black beauty slowed its gait so that Vladimir could get a running start to mount. When he was on board he whipped the reigns to chase after Troy’s stallion.

“Perhaps so,” was Troy’s last response as the two moved swiftly through the forested overhang towards the tiny town of Irenes located in the heart of heaven, as the Knight described it once. Here was a place, where no matter how crude, tormented, or messed up one’s past was, if they sought the peace of a quiet life, they could find it here. It was here a Sword Demon found content, a fallen knight picked himself up, an ice queen warmed her heart, a family found a father, and a wanderer found a home all resided.

It was here in this town that Troy was guardian of; not that he had much to do. No blood thirsty pirates, no crazed madmen, but just the occasional bandits and missing cat up the tree plagued this peaceful Mecca. Yet there were things that lived in Irenes that still made the easy going people uneasy. Vladimir felt his mood dour to know he was one of those people. Though the olive branch was extended to Vladimir to give up his life, the hatred in his heart was not meant for this type of life. Oh how he did long for it, but the crimes he committed, the life he lived…no, Irenes was not his home.

Still, the place had accepted Karel, despite his misgivings. Though not with open arms, they trusted him far more than Vladimir, and for good reason. He had been doing his best to be a good man while here, and though he made a klutz of himself and a fool more often than not it was his honest attempts the people appreciated. Vladimir never hid, nor denied what he was to these people. A monster walking in a body of a human. Yet soon these people would have no need to worry about Vladimir anymore, and the harrowing Karel Raven would soon put his blade for good. The Deific Artificer, Lazarus, was soon running out of time.

Known to very few, Lazarus had twelve artifacts of power that fueled his power as a god of technology. For the past three years Karel and Vladimir have travelled the world of Althanas to find and destroy these artifacts and relics of the god. Each one was stranger than the last, some full of dark power and corrupting magic, while others were merely tiny trinkets that hid a more powerful nature.

One by one Vladimir and Karel, with the help of a flesh golem by the name Wilfred, managed to find and destroy these last few items all the way to number eleven. All that remained was one. Yet it was the one that Karel and Vladimir had trouble finding, and Wilfred even felt stumped. Yet the more Vladimir thought, the more dour his face became for Vladimir had a terrible secret he’d been keeping.

He always knew where the twelfth and final relic was. It was also, despite his own considerable power and prowess, the one item he knew he couldn’t take on his own. The deadly soul transferor Nox Nyctores. A device that could implant the soul of a human being into an inanimate object, and force that soul to servitude, bound to the will of the one who placed them inside the object. There was a cult not far off the coast of this land that used the item to create terrible abominations known simply as ‘Dolls.’ Vladimir knew that each doll was heavily resistant to magic, and could feel no pain when in battle. Despite how good Karel and Vladimir were, Karel would be unable to hold himself in check to avoid a costly mistake on this trip.

He divulged his plan to Wilfred Waltz, and the flesh golem agreed to it with little time to think it over. Karel’s abilities would do no good in an infiltration mission. There was but one man Vladimir could trust with a sword at his back, and he looked to the rider upon the stallion galloping ahead of him, his hair breezing in the speed of the wind. In all rights the man had no reason to accept any of Vladimir’s request for help. He had every right to say ‘No, dear brother, I will not risk my very soul to a cult when I have so much else to live for.’ Yet Vladimir knew that soon Tory would catch on that Vladimir and Karel were staying much longer than usual, and then he would make his deal.

In order for Vladimir to unlock the gates to Lazarus’ domain, he would need to convince his brother in law to join him. Now all he needed to do was find the right motivation for the last Knight of the Apocalypse to use…