Out of Character:
Kazejin sat prone in the center of an arena, surrounded by bloodied walls and spikes stained by remains of warriors. Above them, stands for the cruel and sadistic to watch, though no eyes rested there yet. Before him, a gate cast in iron promising a death. Behind, his entrance, a mundane steel door that slowly faded into nothing. The Citadel held many creative and imaginative battlefields, this was not among them.
With the Immortal across his lap, and his legs crossed in a meditative position, the elderly Ookami-jin waited. Not long had he been sitting here, corralled into this place by the monks once again, as was done every morning and every evening regularly. The fights seemed to just mesh into each other now, however hard he might try to stay focused. Constantly the man had to remind himself that it was an opportunity to train, to battle the finest of Althanas and sharpen his skills. So far only the most meager and disgusting had come his way, falling quickly or attempting to cheat. Scoundrels, deviants, and rogues had come to fight him, hoping for the gold reward that warranted a victory. Rarely had he even bothered to draw his blade, disgusted by their entire lack of honor or nobility in the art of combat. Cursing silently to himself, and breaking his concentration due to his frustration, the warrior stood. Holding the long Immortal in one hand and letting it drag on the ground making a scraping noise, he began to pace. Mumbling insignificant nothings to himself, Kazejin rubbed the rim of his wide brimmed sakkat and impatiently awaited the new opponent.
"Probably just a ruffian, coming in here to make a quick gold piece... Won't even give up a real fight... Run when he sees steel... Try to stab me from behind like a damn traitor... Godless child... Fool... Why aren't you here yet, do you not believe in arriving at a battle on time!"
Cursing he kicked a old forgotten bone across the arena to watch it explode into dust against the grate. Although the warrior had only arrived minutes before, his day had been long and filled with many fights already and this would be the last. To get it begun and quickly over with would be a grace, yet that could not happen if his opponent never arrived. Growling barely audibly, he stared at the entrance, finally taking up a stance. With one hand below and one hand above the nearly invisible line where sheath and hilt met, he slid his feet far apart and hunched low. Ready, with determination and anger in his eyes, Kazejin let a wide grin spread across his face as a steel door finally materialized and opened, his competitor arriving.
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