Battle for/in/on the city

[Elijah_Morendale]

((Closed to Eyes Of...))

I was tying the laces on my hi-tops as Nadia sat perched on the windowsill, her imaginary red locks swaying from the breeze as she observed the population of Radasanth below. "Are you sure you don't want my help?" Her voice had a melodious tone to it, one that taunted me with her lack of belief in my abilities.

I smiled grimly at her. "I'm sure. I need to do this to test my own skill in battle. Besides, I think we all know what you're capable of." My imaginary friend's grin widened to the point where I thought her face was going to split in half. The gods only know what kind of thoughts were going through her broken head at the moment.

"Hey, chief. Remember that time that--"

I raised a hand to stop her. "Yeah. I remember it just fine. But every time I tell you not to kill anyone, you go overboard and I end up on the run."

She continued to stare out the window. "I still think that I should come along."

"No thanks," I replied. "I can handle another trip to the Citadel myself."

"Suit yourself. Just remember that a sharp spike in your throat is never a pleasant experience." Nadia turned her head, that same stupid smirk plastered on her beautiful face, her emerald eyes gleaming in the afternoon sun. I shuddered as I recalled my previous visit to the hallowed halls of Althanas' historical battle arena. I was mere inches from slashing the throat of my opponent, a scantily-clad demoness. But before I could give my dagger a new place to rest, she swiftly maneuvered her tail--which was tipped by a nasty bone spike--out from underneath her and straight into my throat. I could remember the pain of death long after the monks of Ai'Brone had fixed me up.

I walked over and grabbed my jacket, bidding my imaginary friend farewell as I left the inn. The streets of the grand city of Radasanth were especially packed today. Pushing my way through the throngs of humans, elves, dwarves, and other races quickly reminded me of how much I enjoyed my three feet of personal space. I ricocheted against a few people as I made the half-mile trek from where I was staying to the Citadel.

Being born and raised in the frozen middle of nowhere that composed most of Salvar, I always found the architecture of this Coronian city fascinating. The blending of three completely different styles made for a city that was easy on the eyes. However, the thing that always piqued my interest the most was definitely the magnificent Citadel--which I had finally made my way to.

I gazed upwards, shielding my eyes from the burning rays of the sun. The peaks of the steeples seemingly pierced the heavens themselves as they towered above the city. Massive oak doors sat at the top of a set of stone stairs. I slowly made my way up, exerting quite a bit of strength to open the doors. The inside very spacious and sparse--doors lined the walls as sunlight poured through the stained glass, leaving intricate, multicolored patterns on the polished marble floor.

My feet slowly carried me inside as I once again absorbed the splendor and history of where I was. After what seemed like forever, I felt a small tap on my shoulder. I quickly spun around in surprise, my glasses sliding clean off my face. In what I considered a graceful move by any means, my hand shot out and caught my glasses in mid-flight. As I slid them back on, my eyes fell on a monk--he was a few inches taller than myself, his massive physique hidden behind a plain brown robe. His face was kind enough, but had telltale features that implied that he was the kind of guy that you'd not want to catch you cheating at a poker game--take my word for it.

"Can I help you?" The monk's deep voice was amplified by the echoing nature of the Citadel's main chamber.

The reputation of the monks of the Ai'Brone were known throughout the land, so I couldn't help but to feel intimidated by the man. "Um, yes. It's been quite a while since I was able to test my strength, you see..." The monk shook his head and raised a beefy hand, stopping me in mid-sentence.

The monk quickly pointed at one of the numerous identical doors. "Come this way." The monk walked over and wrapped one of his hands completely around the doorknob, giving it a quick turn and a yank. I gazed into the darkness that the opened portal revealed, mentally preparing myself for the battle to come as I stepped into the cold, inky black.

It's been a while since I've actually, you know... Fought for myself. Nadia has always stepped in to defend me... But it's high time to see if I still got what it takes.

Slowly, the darkness brightened somewhat. When my vision returned, I found myself looking skyward at a blanket of stars. Out of the corner of my eyes, I could see something that resembled miniature buildings. Not small huts, but really tall buildings--like the Citadel itself. However, these tallest of these structures were as big as I was, and there were small rectangular holes evenly spaced throughout the buildings, most of them emitting light. That doesn't look like lamp light to me...

I began to survey this strange place some more, only to find that I was surrounded by these buildings. Some of them had brightly colored signs that flashed various, odd-looking symbols. "Drink Coca-Cola? What th' hell is that?" Suddenly, he heard a scream from below. I tore his gaze from the neon billboards and looked down--noticing that I was standing in the middle of a very small street. In the bright light that the signs provided, I could see very tiny people pointing at me, screaming as if I were some sort of giant monster and running every which way.

A cold sweat formed on my forehead. I was transported to a very foreign and futuristic land, becoming a giant in the process! A look of bewilderment much like those of the people below had crossed my face. "Where the hell am I? What is this place?"

I began to wander around the sprawling metropolis, trying to ignore the sickening crunches of vehicles and people that were underfoot as I made his way through the city. Well, at least it probably won't be too difficult to spot my opponent, I thought to myself as chaos ensued around me.

[Eyes of...]

Entry #003

“My study of the curious woman started only within the week. So far I have noted that she has quite the penchant for testing herself against others, interestingly enough against any and all opponents that will offer a challenge. She is oddly enough hardly concerned with how they appear, how they act, or what they look like. To this point, she has only fought one battle (see previous entry), and her actions were cautious and deliberate. The two men that she fought were difficult opponents, when you take into consideration their personal powers, weapon finesse, and strengths.

Noting that, she did not let them sway her style and forced on a few mistakes. As soon as the battle was over, she took to the monks and found herself a new opponent. The following is her encounter with him. My own notes will be added in, but for the most part I’m going to attempt to be unbiased, and restrain from my interpretations. This will be simple fact…”


I would be remiss if I did not give the dedication to both sides, and in doing so, this could take a bit to jot down. Every detail, every intricate action and reaction brings out the personality and prowess of both sides. I will start from the beginning, when the woman Chizu-Miki removed herself from the previous battle and looked forward to the next.

She was macabre beauty, decadence draping her visage. Her torso was barely concealed by a black, laced corset threaded up the side by simplistic black ribbon. Thin, tight black leather pants, loosened past the knees, gave a distinctivly seductive air. A pair of risqué boots, with accompanying two inch heel, held the bottom of the leather pants down. Her final and purely stylistic piece of clothing was the fishnet gloves that wrapped each arm from fingertip to elbow. All in all she was a unique slice of the morbid underground style that predominated amongst the younger denizens of Corone’s main towns.

Though their appearance would allude to a certain level of distancing from the socio-political and economic aspect of society, it was hardly so. Though the clubs for the quiet, black-laced crowd were often set off in a solemn, silent place, the group was fighting to survive day to day like any other. They moved through the streets in their black cloaks and hooded coats, scowls painting their faces, but like Chizu, they were all intricate to the flow and change of the social aspects of society itself. The Akashima native was new to Corone’s main cities, despite her chameleon like adherence to a new sect and style of fellow youth.

In her short time within the massive walled city, she had already discovered the majestic and hallowed halls of the Citadel. She had already fought a battle including multiple people, and relished more fighting and further tests of her skills. The answer came almost as soon as she exited and healed from her previous battle… battles within the grand marble halls of the Citadel were endless and time permitted no reprieve. When she exited she took notice of the passing of time, which had slowed considerably to allow for the change of the politics and war to barely change.

“Stupid fuckin’ kids,” she muttered as she followed another monk to a new arena and a new opponent. I followed on the coattails of the man, remaining aloof from the woman’s progress and making no contact as to not interfere. If she was the one we had chosen, the one that was supposed to take our group from its state of dishonor, she would have to proceed towards that goal alone. Till the time came, I would neither speak with her, or be spoken too. Unless of course she noticed me and acted upon it, the event would create quite a troublesome failure, and possibly elude her to her destiny far too soon.

The monks of the Ai’bron were, obviously, swayed in whatever way the clan had thought of, to allow me to take a place within the battleground as an outside observer. From my position I was allowed to watch and note, but not interfere, not be noticed. It was perfect. I entered through the same door, on the same flash of brilliance that she did, yet appeared as little more than a ghost, and unseen apparition. It was more ingenious than the very illusions and expert healing spells they commanded. There was no telling how many others were within the room, who was watching, or whether anyone else even was. My mission was critical, and there was quite a vivid possibility of others like me watching the same subject, or the subject she was to encounter. There was no telling.

Anyway, on to the setting and her actions – I will again attempt to remove myself from the battle and recount the exact details of what took place. The setting was far from common. It was a world of perfection, masking the chaos and sordid undertones of the society that thrived within it. Buildings stood hundreds of feet high, dotted by small windows. Lights from within glowed softly, alluding at the presence of life within the arena. Large signs were fixed to the sides of buildings, blinking a slew of lively colors from red to blue, obviously indicating some form of marketing for products foreign to me. However, everything was peculiarly small. The tallest of the possibly cloud touching buildings rose to the young warrior’s upper thighs. Underfoot tiny humans ran, screaming, begging for mercy. It was some form of town, of this I am sure, but so different from anything I had ever seen.

By the look that crossed Chizu’s slate-white eyes, it was just as foreign to her as well. One of her eyes scrunched up at the sight of the world below. Her high cheekbones offered a regal appearance, as if looking down at a group of blubbering peasants. Though her eyes held no pupil, and from what I have seen never showed her true emotions, it was plainly palpable that she was lost in a sea of miniscule peoples misfortunes, and a necessity akin to duty pressing her to carry on. She looked up, searching for her opponent.

With the setting the way it was, it was not difficult to find the man. He was a giant, just like her. His high height was difficult to determine within the miniscule town. The man was taller than her, by a few inches, and had a bit of extra weight added to his frame. If he had not been an opponent, she might have favored him with a pleasant smile. He was not unattractive however. Though, since his intentions were to battle, much like hers, she gave him a simple smirk and a nod of her head.

“An extremely odd place,” she commented as she shifted her feet, wincing ever so slightly at the sickly crunch of small people and four wheeled things. “What imaginations these monks possess.” While her stance was being assumed, and her words were finding their way to the man, she let her eyes wander. It was her style, as I have come to find, that she always absorbs the settings. She can take into account advantages, disadvantages, and weigh them equally against her own style and graceful style of combat. In doing so, she is at times able to sway a regrettable loss in her own favor, turning it into a rather profitable victory…

[Elijah_Morendale]

Sorry it took me this long...

Even in the anarchy that my arrival brought upon this strange city and the minuscule denizens who populated it, I easily spotted my opponent. Hell, how could I miss her? She was the same size I was! And boy, what an opponent she was. She was a few inches--or in this case, stories--shorter than I was, with blank white orbs for eyes that sent a shiver down my spine as she sized me up. The strobing neon lights of the city shined brightly off her polished black leather pants and corset.

My opponent was an attractive one, no doubt. She smirked at me, commenting on the monks' ability to produce such an epic arena to do combat in. She had such a sweet voice... I scratched my head and smiled. "Yeah, it's definitely a unique place, that's for sure." Problem was, I've been too busy sizing my opponent up that I haven't quite gotten a bead on my surroundings and how I could use them to my advantage. So shoot me, her cleavage was showing, and I'm a guy after all!

I took a few seconds to further survey my new stomping grounds. There was definitely enough stuff for me to throw her into; I'm pretty sure these buildings couldn't stand up to the onslaught of a couple of three hundred foot tall people. The roads were narrow, meaning that I didn't have much room for my fancy footwork. That was a bad sign. I usually relied on my speed to get out of jams. Oh well, I guess I'll have to rely on actual physical contact.

"Check her for weapons, I don't see any." Nadia's voice echoed in my head.

Instinctively, I replied, "I thought I told you to stay out of this." A split second later, I realized that I spoke to my imaginary friend out loud. Great, this girl is going to think I'm a lunatic... So much for asking her out for a post-battle drink. I slouched a little bit, my face turning red with embarrassment.

"Fine, whatever. Your death and reincarnation, chief." She was right, though--I couldn't see any visible weapons on my opponent. Either she's adept at magic, or she knows a thing or two about martial arts. I was hoping for the latter; dodging elemental bolts was going to be mighty dangerous in this place.

I reached inside my coat for my dagger, but paused. For a brief moment, I decided a different approach to this battle would probably be the best. Besides, it was high time that I tried something else with my icecrafting than making ice balls and kunais. Closing my eyes, I concentrated my energy into both of my hands. I could feel them grow cold as a thin layer of ice molded itself around my balled-up fists. The ice slowly grew to encompass my forearms, until they formed a smooth, solid set of gauntlets. I smiled at my accomplishment, but there was a nagging thought--one of Nadia's probably--that forced me to take it a step further. Concentrating a bit longer, sharp blades of ice began to form on the backs of my hands. They extended six inches from my fists, thinning out into sharp edges not unlike my dagger.

Yes, these will do nicely. I quickly swung at a nearby building. The ice sheared the concrete and steel structure in half like it was nothing. Needless to say, I was quite surprised that my new weapons survived the impact with only a couple shards of ice chipped off. As the dust cleared, I gazed at my opponent with a smirk to match her own. "Shall we dance?"

[Eyes of...]

The man responded politely. It was still something she was not exactly used to. She had grown up in the eastern hold of Akashima, where she was worth less than the mangy dogs that might have prowled the streets at night. Respect played across the tones and personas of each person in Corone. The denizens of the mutli-cultural society were far less xenophobic than the people of Akashima. But each seemed to have an intricate and odd little quirk too… the man before her was no different.

First he talked to himself. His words were sharp, sarcastic. Who he was talking to was not obvious, but it was apparent he did not want the input of the other person. No surprise, distractions from an unseen force were not useful in a battle situation. It appeared that the young woman would have a much easier time casting her spells, though the distraction could also prove difficulty if she could not penetrate all the way to it as well.

The second thing I saw was the man reached into his coat, exposing a small dagger. Yet, instead of drawing it, he let his coat close. It flapped against him, the glimmer of the strange lights flickering off the secreted blade. She lifted her eyes to his. They were closed, tense. He was concentrating, and the product of his concentration came to fruition quickly. Coating both hands thick ice formed, heavy undoubtedly, like a pair of frozen gauntlets. From them he pushed blades of firm ice. It appeared that she would be fighting another opponent with the ability to create blades from his will alone.

However, she was hardly defenseless. If anything had come of the previous battle, it was an instinctive knowledge of opponent’s abilities. She would not underestimate this man as she had the last, which I was sure of, and before I could jot down her actions she was summoning her spells. They were a product of her background, an instinctive and devious product of her background. Her connection to the realm of spirits, on an ethereal level, spurred her spells and gave her power. It was this reason that we wanted her, focused on her, and took note of her above others.

She did not close her eyes to summon spells from the ethereal realm. To do so would provoke an attack of opportunity on her, and it was not necessary. Her eyes danced with color. One shifted to a violet hue, splitting down the center and separating the violet and milky white. The other began to take on a tan coloration, deepening around the edge. They were not instant, but offered a degree of unease to any who saw the shift.

“Dance?” She asked, a sarcastic smirk playing across her sharp visage. “Perhaps you could consider this a dance… I, however, never place so artistic a quality on a confrontation which offers little more than bloodthirsty primates the chance to revel in the misfortune of others.” She was different. To the face of an opponent she could appear demure, cautious, and possibly comfortable in any situation. The simple fact that I had come to know though, Chizu-Miki was no different than the next ‘primate’ with a bloodied past and wake of destruction. She was just as dangerous as the next warrior, possibly even more so than most.

[Elijah_Morendale]

First, I have to contend with the foreignness of this arena, and now I gotta' deal with a girl who can change her eye color at will. Normally that would be a nifty parlor trick to get me a discounted drink at some tavern, but who knows what sort of purpose it served in battle. I guess it would just be one more thing I had to watch out for as we beat the living crap out of one another. But then again, I still have a few tricks up my sleeves and in my shoes, figuratively and literally.

I cocked my head slightly at her barrage of words that seemed to be pulled straight from a thesaurus. "I don't mean to sound unintelligent, but could you use smaller words with me? All your crap about our violence-prone tendencies is going to put me to sleep..." I paused for a second, relieving myself of a terrible itch on my scalp. "Or was that your intent in the first place so you could get a free hit in?"

The lights danced off the both of us as chaos ensued underfoot. But by now, the miniature screams in foreign tounge were considerably softer; most of this city's residents were wise enough to vacate the area. The debris from the building I wrecked seconds before was beginning to settle as I rushed forward towards the raven-haired beauty. It was a reckless idea, considering I had no clue as to what her abilities were, but there you have it. I never really had much of a head when it came to battle, I would just let Nadia take over and wreck shop. But it was high time I actually tested my own skills.

My swift feet echoed against the asphalt streets below, crushing a few unfortunate stragglers and vehicles as I moved towards my opponent. When I was in range, I drew back my ice blade and thrust it at her chest, fully expecting her to do something to prevent my attack from giving her a new hole to breath out of.

[Eyes of...]

The boy was interesting too. He was a regular prankster. I could see a smirk rise on her face, a true emotion expressed and visually confirmed. It wrote it down immediately. From what I had seen in the past battle, and what little I had seen her outside of fighting, I had assumed her emotions were nearly non-existent. It was good to know our new prospect felt anything, made her seem a little more human, a little less like a machine of destruction and anger. She was not just a product of the terrible taunting of her youth, but a beautiful and budding child.

Instead of responding she let the smirk grow into a genuine smile, shaking her head ever so slightly. She leaned down a bit, and brought her hands up. Her eyes were swirling with color. The first one was a light hue of purple along the top and shifted to a deeper coloration towards the base. In the center of it a small black heart began to emerge. The spell was almost created, summoned from the ethereal realm in the span of a few seconds. The other eye had taken on a split color of tan and darkened auburn, but the tell tale sign of its completion – a swirling vortex with the appearance of a typhoon of lightning – was not yet present.

She moved with the man. Her leather heeled boots slipped through the main streets, giving her enough room to allow her footing barely the size of her feet. She shifted her heal anyway, leaning on the forward leg, and spun around with her hands flat. I could not sense the spiritual energy of her Aka-Wa art, but knew it would not be long before she used it. She was a hand to hand adept, knowledgeable in a martial prowess that commanded discipline and concentration. However, it would be ridiculous to use it so early in the battle. I noted her pretentious opponent’s actions, and her own reactions. She appeared to be toying with him, testing him and his command of the ice bladed gauntlets and hand to hand skills.

Instead of standing her ground and catching the blade she spun away on her forward leg. The other leg kicked out over the buildings, fearing their proximity might catch her off and send her tumbling in her fluid motion. She moved to the outside of his extended arm, struck outwards with the inside hand towards the backside of the forearm to push it away and towards the other. In the same spin motion she brought her opposite arm in a wide, horizontal slash towards his close side kidneys.

I took note that of her movements. She had in a split second decided the best course of action. Instead of standing her ground and deflecting the blade of ice, and possibly being exposed to the second, she had moved away. The only other thing she could have done would have been to move in close, but being that close would be difficult to summon strength into her strike. Even without the spiritual blades extending from her finger tips and palms her strike would produce a fair amount of pain, for a woman of her size at least.

However, he wore a chest piece of metal. I could not tell what it was made from, or what exactly it was, but I could hear the light rap of its fit at his movement. Its report was loud and clear. She could not extend her energy through it, as I had taken note of earlier, so she would be forced to stick to the man’s legs, neck, and exposed portions of his arms.

[Taskmienster]

This thread has been waiting for over a year. If you would like to complete it, or work on it further, you can PM myself or another staff member and ask for it to be moved. However, till that time, it will be resting in the Citadel Archive forum.

Thanks,
~Task