Versus Episode 1.

(Part of my proposed training citadel series let's see how we do here. Closed to Lona Dim)
( OOC Recruit thread )

There was burning temple around him.

His eyes narrowed as he observed the carnage and destruction. Someone...beat me to this... Nosdyn realized it could all have been a trap, a set up. Protocol...until this situation is neutralized I cannot proceed back to the temple of N'Jal. Back home. In the meantime, I better find out what was the reason for the summons here. Nosdyn looked up at the burnt temple. Perhaps this is a warning...?

His tactical mind was considering things, possibilities of why someone would attack an old temple like that out in the middle of nowhere.

Nosdyn noticed a statue of one of the lesser Thayne on the ground, well the head of it. Someone went really out of their way to desecrate this place. Must of been some battle... Nosdyn knelt down before the statue's crumbling form and touched the face, clean white marble. He narrowed his eyes for a long moment. There was something familiar about the methods employed in the siege.

I have seen this before...elsewhere...something is adding up. He looked up at the sky, it was afternoon. The sun still blazed overhead, he looked back down towards the face of the statue, staring back at him with an almost accusing expression. He held the haft of his iron mace, one of them carefully in his large hand. There is a reason N'Jal sent me out here to the middle of nowhere to investigate this temple...so I am going to complete the mission at hand. He thought to himself.

He started to walk forward towards the temple, his heavy boot falls crunching the grass and foliage underneath.

Nosdyn had never been a stealthy type.

He was built to endure pain...a great deal of it.

His muscles tensed at that point, he felt nervous...he was not sure why. There is a reason this is all happening this way and I don't like the not knowing of this. He walked into the temple, it's burning crumbling walls already were destined to be forgotten. "Thayne Codex symbols...not my master's." Nosdyn said, thinking out loud. The only Thayne he knew exclusively was N'Jal's will. The rest of the Thayne Codex may as well have been chicken scratch to him, or a child's coloring book. As he investigated the temple, the feeling of unease settled in his gut. Something is very wrong here...

(^Enter here with Nosdyn entering the temple if you are inclined you have a free back attack there)

The Citadel. Oh, yes, the Citadel. How strange and beautiful are the machinations of this place. How does it work? The magic? What secrets does this place hold? I, Lona Dim, was certain to find out.

I had to admit, the realism of their little arenas was rather impressive. I couldn't really feel the ground my feet were on. The rubble of rustic ruins were crushed under my boots as I tip toed around the debris. Really, I could taste the irritating dust in the air. Clear sunlight beamed from above, scorching the plain, brown, undressed earth with barrages of heat. Rather annoying, these ruins were. Why, the crumbling pebbles from dying walls and ceilings above could ruin my hair! My blond hair, tips dyed dark blue. Blue hair like a stormy sea was a poor choice in this dull, bright brown atmosphere. The white gamberson and pink shorts caused me to stand out as well.

Of course, the temple had witnessed better days. Obviously, the damage dealt was recent. Fires still crackled here and there. I could catch the faint whiff of rotting bodies. And blood painted the walls too. Festive! All I had to do was make sure somebody, me or my opponent, joined the dead bodies littered here. This would be fun...

I heard boot steps.

The heavy crunching of rocks and dirt ahead caused me to look deeper into the bizarre ruins. The walls were coated in ancient symbols I could not decode. Within the dim shadows of the temple, standing several feet away from a sacrificial alter, was my opponent. He was just as exposed to this place as I, loud enough to wake a hibernating dragon of the deeps.

"Forget stealth, huh, big guy?" I called loudly.

The figure turned around. From the shadows, he wore dark garbs and had a mask on. Stupid mask! I groaned, pointing at the mask covering the big man's face. "Boring! Masks are lame!"

I reached to my back, pulling out my goedendag. Slamming the pole arm's end into the rubble below, I placed my other hand over my eyes to get a better look at him.

I spy with my little eyes, plain old boring maces. Clearly, he has zero taste in style. But more importantly, everything about him points to a heavy, strength based fighting style.

I smirked, pulling my hand in front of me. I motioned for him to bring this fight on. That was what the Citadel was for, after all. Hopefully, his fighting style was better than his terrible sense of fashion!

(No mask by the way so you know. I got rid of all the fear related stuffs and replaced the energy sword. Oh and sorry for short post been a bit hectic here at home going forward posts will be considerably longer.)

He turned around slowly towards the person who called out to him. Likely the reason of the trap here... Nosdyn thought to himself as he looked at the girl. "Stealth...that is an art lost to me young one." He said to her calmly and nodded. He lowered his hood to reveal his demonic features. He had exotic tattoo like symbols etched on his flesh, birthmarks things his tribe was born with. His eyes narrowed as he looked at the girl. "Battle took place here." He said to her calmly, his accent was Alerar thick, but he spoke in the common tongue for her understanding him easier.

"I did not get to see the battle itself but temple inside is a mess, as it is outside." Nosdyn knelt down to the broken statue before him. "Some lesser Thayne was ravaged here." He said to her calmly. He nodded. "Well then, we both came for a reason did we not?" He readied one of his iron maces. His leather clothing was emblazoned with N'Jal symbols and markings.

He clenched the grip of his mace for a long moment, he felt tension but was not sure why. His eyes remained narrowed as he looked at the girl and he started to walk slowly towards her. Speed was never one of his strong suits.

He was in front of her after a moment or two but hesitated just a little. "I wish to see what you're capable of." He said to her. "You have first move here."

A demon... Interesting. Ah, I could remember the history downloaded into my homunculi brain. The history of the Demon Wars. The battles and struggles for survival between Alerar and the Tular Plain's evils. Yet, this demon standing before me was calm, quiet, and observant. He was intelligent, he carried an air of dignity. He spoke of history himself, about the Thayne. I knew little about them. Alerar was uninterested in dated religions and magical affairs. My country rose against the ignorance of such things, breaking apart from Raiaera's foolish trust in ancient ways.

The demon allowed me to make the first move. Intriguing. I pulled my goedendag up and held it in my two hands. Obviously, this demon had the fighting style of a hardened soldier. He was quite large, physically powerful just by the looks of him, and kept weapons of brute force. He seemed to care little for speed, even less for stealth. He seemed to be a straightforward fighter, but I knew better than to judge a book by its cover.

This demonic warrior could still house secrets beneath his stoic gaze.

I decided to play it safe. For now. I pulled myself back, pulling my weapon into the grip and reach of a pole arm. Maintaining distance, I started with quick stabs with the weapon's iron tip. Any attempts to close the gap were to be met with the point of the goedendag. I prodded the cow with a burning iron, testing how the beast would react.

This would be entertaining!

Her attacks barely registered at that point, they connected.

He did not resist at all but they did inflict damage...he just barely felt it at that point, his mind didn't connect he was being attacked. He was so used to pain by that point.

Too many battles...

Too many personal losses...

He looked at the girl for a moment. He nodded at her and licked his lips for a moment. "That felt...like there was lack of intent." The aged demon said at that point. He walked closer towards her, lumbering almost, walking painfully slowly. He would take his time with her. Memories of the past surfaced as he fought the girl, memories were a funny thing. "You remind me of someone...from a long time ago." He said to her, it was a compliment.

"The weapon you use...don't see very many people using the likeness of it. Adjust your stance a little, tighten it." He said to her calmly, his old instructor's habits were kicking in. He'd trained an entire generation of N'Jal's followers virtually by himself. Of his own accord, to impress his master. "Your weapon should be no different than the lover your take to your bed every night." Nosdyn said to her. He was well within striking distance at that point, paused only a moment as memories of the past surface. His life, his long and war-scarred life.

He concentrated on intent to harm.

Demons, no, his people were always at odds with the physical world of Althanas.

He swung his weapon, iron mace, at her midsection. There was no elegance in the strike only a practiced technique of one of N'Jal's most skilled followers. He was testing how serious the girl was in the battle, how serious her intent to harm the demon was he swung his weapon at her. His intent was clear...it was to maim and eventually kill. He knew how the world of men functioned...if you could not handle pain you were destined to fail.

Life was full of misery and loss.

Nosdyn was counting the second of his attack in his head as he waited to see her reaction to his assault.

I stood there, a hand on my hip, as this demon went on and on and on about... uh... something on weapons, sleeping with people, and a memory. Ugh. Even as he raised his weapon, I felt myself glaring in disapproval of his long monologue. As he swung, I lep backwards. Empty air was swung into with a clean, hefty blow as I stepped back in the rubble. "Pfft!" I resumed a stance with my weapon.

"Boring!" Why did this demon with lack of style and taste have to be a philosopher too? Just why! This shattered temple was too dead, it needed to be alive with the sound of warrionrs and battle! I raised my goedendag, intent on reaching a more up close approach. I was using it as a club, ramming it into this depressing opponent with everything I had. He did not even react to the blood dripping from his shoulder from the iron tip of my weapon. He was tough, like a stale piece of bread. And just as boring too. I knew that two blunt weapons so close would be brutal, I craved it. Desired it! Longed for it! If I won, I was a skilled fighter and that was cool. If I lost, I would learn the secrets of Citadel revival. Oh yes, my mission! My missions to retrieve any information possible for my master! Yet, to get there, pain must be felt.

"I'm going to keep hitting you with my club-spear thing!"

Of course, madness was not without reason. I knew that this was a likely aggressive fighter beneath that emo demeanor. My weapon was longer than his tools of war. I would have an easier time blocking, especially with how much smaller I was than him. Still, this would likely end with broken bones and bleeding skin. Let it come!

(We don't need to finish this thread don't worry about it.)