Every Blade has a Tale.

[Jack London]

Just a little battle I've been wanting to have with my new character. I originally planned for this to be a free for all, but we an arrange teams if more people join. I am hoping for this one to be fun and interesting. Give me a good one. Standard challenge section rules apply.

Participants:

1) Myself as Charles
2) Faint_Remnant as Honor [ Position controlled by myself, untill further notice. ]
3) Rokazu as Kiramus
4) Chariot of Fire as Methuselah

Best of luck and have fun ^^.

~~~~

Name: Charles

Alias: Weapon Master

Age: ?

Gender: Male

Race: ?

Personality: Quite the mysterious character, at the very least, his intentions never being as straight forward as most would like, for the most part. Charles was never one to enjoy a fight for gain, but simply to enjoy its strategic concept. Though he appears a calm and serene being, he can be ruthless and almost insane, given the circumstances. However, there are sides of him that he does not like and keeps hidden from most around him. A proud being at heart, Charles is always up for a friendly spar, given the opportunity. Though he has quite a strange outlook upon the world, at the end of the day, he can always been seen watching the waves crash upon the shore as the sun sets, alone. Otherwise, only through battle or a personal relationship can one know who he truly is.

~Personal Theme: “To Live is To Die” by Metallica
~Battle Theme: “Dead to the World” by Nightwish
~Quote: “Search for beauty, find your shore. Try to save them all, bleed no more.” ~Nightwish
~Zodiac Sign: Virgo

Appearance: Charles takes the appearance of a human in his early twenties. Though his build seems weak, he does have muscle hidden underneath his skin, only to be revealed in the heat of combat. His physical strength has grown to be quite broad, through many years of combat and having both fought and trained in countless different styles. Despite this, his body had and always will remain slender; more of a figure with grace rather than one built for fighting. Not appearing too tall, he stands about an average height for his age, perhaps very slightly above average.

His hair is about medium length, sometimes longer, and is usually simply kept parted at the middle. His hair is a dark brown color, being perfectly straight and without fault. Having perfectly symmetrical features, his face has little facial hair; only a light mustache. Though his eyes take a simple caramel color, they are unique in the way that they can be looked at as though they were mirrors. Almost mesmerizing; rumor once had it that one’s true self can be seen within them, before he had conspired against his own existence. His eyes have never been known to change expression and have always been completely intent upon a main and single goal; never deluded.

Around his neck, he always wears a necklace. While it isn’t exactly the prettiest thing in the world, it is a very personal item of his and has had it since the day he was born. It is a simple plate of iron, circular in shape with a loop at the top, for the string to pass through. It is only and inch in diameter, having the words “May the wolf always run with you” upon one side and with a carved picture of a wolf running across a field, with the moon looming over head. The carving looks anything but professionally done. In fact, it looks as though it were something upon cave walls. Another thing he always carries with him, whether seen or not, is a journal of sorts. Within it lie many of his writings, whether it is simply random thoughts, short stories, or even poetry. He writes so that he does not forget his past and because it has always been something he loved to do. A quill is kept within its pages.

Charles’ attire usually depends upon his mood or the occasion. However, he doesn’t usually wear anything out of the ordinary; a simple look always sufficed for him. On some occasions, he may wear chain mail outfits, usually when it came to strictly melee combat.

Fighting Style(Melee): Mantis Style (A combination of both northern and southern, but mostly toward southern.)

Weaponry:

Nameless: A beautifully forged rapier, made completely out of pure and solidified psionic energy. This weapon had been with him since he was a boy and thus has lost its name and primary purpose along with his past. The blade is slightly over four feet in length and has a sphere embedded upon the top of the hilt. The sphere is completely transparent, practically invisible to the naked eye and is the only part of the rapier that isn’t made up of solidified psionic energy. Being made up of such a substance, the blade is able to penetrate through the most powerful of mental barriers and can stun one’s mind for several seconds with a single blow. Another gift given by being made of the substance is that it is extremely light, requiring little to no strength to wield. The rapier takes no physical damage, but simply damages the target’s mind. Given the proper amount of force and aimed in certain locations, the target’s mind can be either damaged greatly or even completely render it useless. Charles keeps this weapon sheathed at his side.

Innocence~Little Dragon: Lost to the deepest corners of his mind; time had stripped him of his innocence. It is now a physical manifestation of its memory, beautifully forged into a naginata. While the naginata is a separate being, in a way, its spirit becomes directly linked to Charles, once summoned, influencing his behavior to the extent of behaving like he once was, when he was still innocent. The weapon emits an aura of healing properties, which can be manipulated by Charles to heal most wounds. Having a spiritual connection to the blade, he can channel his spirit into it with ease and unleash deadly assaults. The weapon, however, resides in the Meadows of Heaven, where it is to rest for eternity, undisturbed. It can only be summoned, returned, and wielded by Charles, since its separate spirit will only react to Charles’ spiritual signature, for its signature is exactly identical to that of Charles’.

Cynical~Darkwing: As time slowly stripped him of his innocence, it was replaced with a cynical outlook of life. Once his innocence had completely left him, his mind was left with nothing more than a mental war between his cynical self and logic, causing him to become something he hated most. Seeing no other alternative, he stripped himself of his cynical self and forged it into a beautiful katana, sealing it deep within a realm of his own thoughts, which only he can access to. The blade works exactly as Innocence does; only its aura is the exact opposite. It emits an aura of anti-life; all of which that is within the radius of this aura is quickly drained of their life force.

Abilities: Having had a strong fascination with wielding weaponry since he was a boy, Charles had learned and gained the ability to summon weapons of legend at will (This can range from tv shows, video games, books, movies, ect.). While this would be proven useful more in the melee category, some of the weapons he summons have magical attributes. A gift he had received from the heavens at birth was for both his mind and soul to be connected to earth and nature, being able to manipulate it fully. He can read minds to a certain extent, but a decent mental barrier can easily thwart his attempts. Charles can manipulate his spirit, to a certain extent as well; only usually used to increase physical potential. His last ability is a technique he personally calls “Way with words.” Whether he speaks it, writes it, or even thinks it, the words involved can be interpreted by his own will and be manifested to perform certain effects, based upon Charles' interpretation. This art of magic can have devastating effects and is only limited by his imagination. Because of this, he can only perform simple ones with ease. Otherwise, it can take up a great extent of his energy, which can also end up killing him, depending upon exactly how much of his energy it takes up. While still quite a strong warrior, his strength is no where near unlimited. Ever since he conspired against his own existence, he has become very rusty when it came to casting complicated spells. He has been attempting to re-learn and train himself again in the arts of psionics, his past specialty, and has had some results, but can only associate it with the abilities stated above and his weapon, Nameless.

Biography: At the sacrifice of all of his powers, he completely erased his existence from history, due to the mere fact that his family and friends were always in danger due to an epic war that would not cease. Without him, the war and the enemy himself would have never existed. However, Charles awoke one day, completely stripped of his powers besides those that were given to him at birth. Although his existence remains, he has not a clue why, and no one knows who he is. Practicing and learning new abilities, he travels to find balance within himself, for the sake of his own mentality. While he still remembers his past vividly, he is beginning to forget. The reasons for this are also unknown, but he believes it to be an after effect of what he had done.

[Faint_Remnant]

Who in the hell is Chariot of Fire, Wolfy?

Either way, I'm using Honor. If a template is needed then i'll give, but he's pretty much a virtue who can create words to reality upon a canvas.

[Jack London]

Haha, Chariot would be cyber's new name, my friend.

And I know your character, a template won't be needed.

[Chariot of Fire]

Yes FR, it is me, Cyber

Wolfy, you know my deal with Methuselah. This is just a post to let it be known that I am joining with Methuselah the Ancient.

[Jack London]

( Alright, this begins now. The post order will be the same as your names are listed upon the "Participants" section. Not entirely sure why Rokazu hasn't posted yet, but I'll make sure he does so. Try not to make an attack in your introductory post; my character will speak first. Lets make this one good. )

The sun was slowly rising over the horizon as its light gently caressed everything within its path, in a morning greeting. The land was flat for the most part, bright green grass being able to be seen for miles on end, beyond the horizon. Several trees could be seen, perhaps one every few yards, but not really so many. A couple of clouds loomed over the area, seemingly moving due east, slowly but surely.

A magnificent cathedral sat upon the grassy plains, its height looking as though it would be able to touch the clouds, given the oppertunity. However, it was a lot taller than it was wide, giving it a more narrow look. A unique design adorned its entire figure, giving it a classic look, as though it had been there for quite some time. Its doors had apparently been swung open, welcoming the air from the outside within it.

Within the mainhall of the cathedral, everything was perfectly symmetrical. Both the walls and the floor were made up of a marble type of material, being clear enough to seen one's reflection in them with ease, giving that strange feeling of being omnipresent. Several pillars could be seen holding up the many levels of the cathedral, for there were stairs just to the side of the entrance leading up to said levels. Hundreds of doorways to different rooms could be seen simply from the first level by looking upward.

At the very end of the mainhall, realisitc portraits of several people could be seen hung up upon the walls, in the formation of what seemed to be a family tree, but in a strange order. Two of which, seemed to stand out more than the rest, for they were much larger than the others and were hung higher than the rest. The one toward the left showed a young handsome man, looking barely twenty, with long hair and grayish green eyes. A tiny and warm smile could be seen upon his face. A portrait of each his parents were shown below him, along with the rest of his family.

The one toward the right showed an older looking man, clad in a mostly black attire, with blue eyes that seemed to glow compared to the rest of him, seemingly expressing no emotion. His family was slightly bigger than the other's, but the portrait which was supposed to be his father's had apparently been torn to the extent of no longer being able to be seen. His mother was a beautiful woman, sharing the same eyes as his, and had a smile that expressed happiness, much more than any other portrait shown. Above the two portraits the rest seemed to revolve around, there was an empty frame.

The sound of footsteps echoed through the mainhall, apparently coming from a single being. He looked quite young, having medium length dark brown hair, wearing a black, long sleeved, collar shirt, left unbuttoned, along with a pair of loosely fit pants. Around his neck, one of his more personal items is worn, though simple in appearance. A belt is worn around his waist, with a sheath for his rapier along his right side and a chain attached to the other side, hanging tightly onto a journal. His eyes were similar to that of the floor and the walls around him; clear and mirror-like, though taking a brownish color.

He examined the portraits quickly, knowing every single one of them, though he couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the torn portrait of the man's father toward the right.

...I wasn't aware of that.

However, his mind didn't linger upon the issue for more than a moment or two. The weapon master drew his rapier and gazed upon it, caressing the transparent orb that was embedded upon the hilt, with his thumb. He could faintly see his reflection upon it, but no longer did it have the power it once had. No longer could he gaze upon it and see the wonders he used to be able to see.

"One day...I'll name you." He murmured to his long time companion, before turning to look outside.

He awaited a couple of his friends, having invited them to have a little fight for old time's sake. The weapon master simply hoped they would show, for this was something he needed quite greatly. He had been wandering aimlessly for quite some time now, confused and unable to think clearly. Perhaps this would do him some good.

[Rokazu]

i'm so sorry guys...it's been so overwhelmingly busy these past few days....so umm like if u guys could, u might wanna go first b4 me...cuz i rly wont have time tonight or tomorrow. ><"

Name: Kiramus

Race/Rank: High Courts Angel

Description: Kiramus doesn’t give much care to his clothing – as long as they hang and as long as they cover up his body, he would have no problem with them. But of course, if the clothes are too strange a sight, he wouldn’t put them on either. All in all, the angel prefers a plain outfit – a pair of leather trousers and tunic with a white sleeved shirt under and on his feet a pair of brown boots. That’s how he travels in the Omniverse, at least. The angel uses his skills at magic to simply teleport throughout the planes instead of flying with wings – he’s one of the few who is been accepted into the High Courts without wings, which are seen as a symbol of power, purity, and loyalty.

Personality: Kiramus doesn’t feel too comfortable in the High Courts; barely anyone talks. His mentality is the exact definition of obnoxiousness that most other angels in the Courts consider to be. Yet, he’s one of the best. This fact doesn’t keep many happy, but they have to accept it. Kiramus jokes rather often and he’s very optimistic; if you’re going to die, he reasons, why die sad? When he needs to be, Kiramus can be very serious and concentrating on the work given – this is what makes him appreciated by the Hierarchy. Although the angel has excessive knowledge in magic and the laws of the Omniverse, he tends to depend much more on his space and time manipulating abilities – one of the rare but natural skills that Kiramus is born with.

Abilities:
Kiramus’s power has an origin indescribable and unseen among even that of the angels. These powers are completely detached from magic itself, which virtually all Omniversal beings and angels and demons draw their power upon. These powers have a similar effect to magic, but are different in that they are qualities of the angel that others cannot change, negate, or even as simple as copy of him or from him. Kiramus can use regular magic to compliment that of his own. As a High Courts Angel, he has mastery over all of the Omniverse’s knowledge. Although he understands – and is able to manipulate – the many powers existing – Kiramus prefers his own power over that of magic.

Time Warp Type 1: Kiramus can decelerate or accelerate the time of a space. Effectively, in the regular space-time, the affected space would seem to vanish from existence. In perspective of the slowed space, time in the affected space travels slower than it is outside. This also slows objects that are bound by time. When he accelerates a surrounding certain space, it would also seem to have vanished from the regular space-time. From that perspective, time travels faster in the affected space than it is outside. This also accelerates all objects that are bound by time.
Time Warp Type 2: Kiramus can decelerate or accelerate the time of an object. What is meant by the time of an object is the rate at which an object exists in the norm of regular space-time. For instance, if a computer can process a certain file within 1 second, if its “time” is doubled, it would process the same file using half the time in perspective to space time. This applies to the object, whether or not it is bound to time. By accelerating the time of an object, Kiramus accelerates the existence or operation of the target. From the perspective of the accelerated target, time seems to travel slower around it. Similarly, by decelerating the time of an object, Kiramus decelerates the existence or operation of the target. From that perspective, time seems to travel faster around it.
Spatial Eradication: Usually, space defines as where a certain substance exists. Kiramus is able to “destroy” space, causing a certain extension of space to completely disappear. Within the targeted extent, any objects within the area whose existence relies on the existence of the eradicating space would also be abolished. This “space,” however, is not limited to material plane and its effects can be felt in other planes if Kiramus wills it so.
Spatial Condensation: Kiramus can condense a vast amount of “space” into a smaller stretch. Anything that is included within the condense space that relies on the space to exist would also be dragged into the process. However, the objects within would not feel anything and they are not condensed as a result. Anything that travels through space – once again, not limited to material planar space – must travel as far as it normally travels through the same amount of space uncondensed using the same amount of time. For instance, if a 50 light-year extent of “space” is condensed into a 2-cm vastness, light would still take 50 years to travel through the new “space.”
Spatial Sphere: If a sphere is created using Spatial Condensation, anything from “inside” the boundary of the condensed space would spend a regular amount of time to travel outside the sphere as though the barely doesn’t exist. In other words, a 50 light-year extent of “space” is condensed into a 2-cm vastness and there is a distance of normal space of 50 meters between a point inside the sphere and a point outside, something from the inside of the sphere would take the same amount of time to travel through the barrier as it travels 50 meters. On the other hand, an object outside would take the same time to travel through the barrier as it takes to travel through the thickness of the barrier.
Space Creation: As simply as the name implies, Kiramus can create space, in addition to the designation of where he wants to insert it. When done so, the newly created space would rip apart the space that already exists and forcibly put itself to place. As a result, whatever matter or body that originally exists over the rip point would also be ripped as a result. No matter how long or big the new space is the process occurs instantaneously.
Space Manipulation: Kiramus can control space – its capacity of matter and energy, its shape, and even its flow in time. He can “fold” space onto another space, effectively making himself to be at two places or more at the same time. However, as he can only enter as one, Kiramus can only leave as one. When a fold is deactivated, Kiramus can only decide to exist at one of the points that overlap during the fold. Similarly, if a certain power is used, he must choose towards which “point of space” the attack approaches. If, after a fold, two “objects” that rely on the plane that is folded becomes overlapped with each other, Kiramus can decide which one to “keep” and which to “eliminate.” The angel would then decide the position of the one that is “kept;” meanwhile, the existence of the object that is “eliminated” would be erased from the plane.

[Faint_Remnant]

OOC: Fine i'll take his turn permanently. So Chariot your next, then the turn will become Rokazu's.

A typical scene. A long plain of grass, with a neverending silence, other than the critters that inhabited the area. Boring in the least to say, from about every battle he had heard about, it was fought in the most random plain imagined. This was no different from first glance. Sighing as he walked up the hill, he only followed the words of an invitation given to him. It was written by no other than Charles.

The note inscribed with the meeting place and for the four of them to have a small battle for the ages, he wondered in the back of his head who the other two were. It wouldn't matter though, this didn't seem to be a life or death matter, maybe just for the mere fun of the art. Either way, a sweat began to fall upon his cheeks, as the sun blazed from above, giving no sign of relief.

Finally relieved to reach its peak, it plateaued into a cathedral. A very tall on that fact. This manustructure seemed to be one of older times, ones resembling castles that would hold ancient creatures such as Dracula. He loved the eerie feeling it welcomed Honor with as he entered through the door. It had already been rendered with, probably with the presence of his friend.

As curious as he was, he took no time, to open each and every door, to behold what was behind it. Instead he followed the sound of footsteps not too far ahead. Portraits and treasures lined the hallways, giving barely enough room to walk upon the velvet carpet. The cleansing of the room seemed to be present, but who in the right mind would even consider cleaning such an enormous place? It wouldn't matter, it wasn't him, Meiyo was only here to enoy the scenery for the time being.

At the far end of the next turn, he saw a man, studying a family tree of memories. Telling from the familiar scent, it was Charles. Relaxed in every way. Nothing could steer him away from his serenity, and he always admired that. And it was always his goal to do so. Smiling as he was near confrontation, he let out a small phrase, that would echo through the ambience.

"Been awhile eh? Where are the others?"

[Jack London]

Alright, I switched the two of you. However, simply for the first cycle of posts, I feel that it would be best for CoF to post last; you'll see why. Rokazu should have time over the weekend and vacation.

[Rokazu]

OOC: sorry for the wait; i tried to post last night, but i've been having some trouble. but here's the post.

IC:
The purpose of life had been one of the greatest inquiries that even angels had. Living was far from purposeful for most were mortal; in other words, most were destined for death. If those belonging to the mortal realm of the Omniverse were considered life, what were angels? They had all that life had, and more – so much more that they were detached from the family of life. They were angels, counterparts of demons, servants of the Omniversal God, regulator of the Planes and reality…Angels were anything but life.

Kiramus had tried so long – perhaps too long – to become a life. The angel had so much connection that his existence in the memories of mortals was significant and acknowledged. This was not correct for divine beings, for they belonged to their own realm. Eventually, the angel knew, he would be demoted from the ranks of angels. It was what he desired, was it not? Yet every now and then the thoughts of being detached from the Heavens frightened him. Without the permission of the Higher Ones he would either be locked in the Heavens or the Omniverse – what was he to choose then? But then again, was the Omniversal heaven not part of the Omniverse itself? What gave this plane the rights of dominance over other “lower ones?”

Yet once again, there he was descending from the Heavens into the material planes. Having received a message from Charles, a fight against the…weapon master seemed too intriguing to pass. “New title eh?” He thought to himself, “back then you called yourself a God…” Kiramus looked back to the days when the man proclaimed the title God of Clarity. Was that all of life – a longing for the rare? The powerless sought power; the powerful sought norm; the poor sought wealth; the rich sought treasure, of which they did not possess.

Was that normal for angels – to long for rarity?

As the sun ascended the horizon, an angel descended – from the Omniversal heavens – and materialized into the Physical Plane high above the ground, amidst the brightening stretch of the azure sky. Nothing would’ve been able to see him, but just to be safe the angel cloaked himself with a spare amount of energy. Any magical being would be able to detect that but then again, there was nothing to see him within miles.

His wings carried him in the currents of the wind as he lowered himself steadily, searching for the lonely structure at which Charles said to gather at. Yet there was nothing to be seen – only miles and miles of green lay before his eyes. A cathedral was the rallying point supposedly, but as the angel scanned the vastness of the plains he began to doubt the existence of the structure – or that he had materialized in the wrong location.

Kiramus allowed a few more minutes of sightseeing before he would leave, and there a black dot began to seemingly magnify itself as he lowered to the ground. The structure was rather narrow in its appearance and immediately he knew this was it. With the location known, Kiramus folded space effortlessly and stepped onto the plane inside the cathedral, just in time to hear a voice.

"Been awhile eh? Where are the others?"

“Here’s one, if you’re curious” The angel asked as he landed, loosening his grip on the spatial fabrics to so that it could stretch itself back to norm. Apparently Kiramus was not the only one invited.

“I’m Kiramus,” he greeted the man, “you?”

His wings folded like a bird’s wings on his back, still reaching as far as four feet to each side. With ease Kiramus dematerialized his wings so that he now looked no more than a regular thirty-year-old man. He never liked the wings so much in the material plane. Most angels had specialty with their wings, but not Kiramus. For him, they were plain white-feathered parts of his body used for flight. He was yet to find their abilities. Then again, perhaps he was too powerful to ask for anything more.

Inside the structure was full of…marbles. For a short instance it gave Kiramus an illusion of space bending; everywhere he looked there was a reflection of himself. In the main hall there stood yet another figure besides the one next to Kiramus. That must’ve been whom the man next to him was referring to – Charles. There were portraits behind the walking man as his footsteps echoed through the hall, vacant and still aside from the three beings now inside.

[Chariot of Fire]

OOC: Sorry for the wait guys
IC:

What was this?

The world was the epitome of normal. The grass was green as an emerald, the wind was as soft as the glove upon a woman’s cheek, and the sun was as bright as a shining pot of gold in the sapphire blue sky. There was a cathedral there, a cathedral built long, long ago. However, the material it was built with still stood beautifully despite the wearing of time upon its surface… It was old… Yet it was simply a child compared to the one that it stood on…

Deep inside the core of the planet, energy swirled about like a miniature sun. It burned with the might that a star could only burn with, and although it still sparked like a hurricane of light and energy, it moved about idly, as if a strange being had somehow dulled its rage. In reality, it was simply calm, eternally flowing, yet simply taking a break… Methuselah the Ancient, was sleeping.

Of course, sleeping was a relative term. All his sensors were active, all his systems were working, and the Living Dust coursing inside him was as powerful as it had ever been. However, was not expending energy in order to move, and he was not utilizing any Living Dust for outward measure. He had simply arranged the atoms of the Living Dust on his surface, so that they would take the guise of a planet, and simply slept, letting his energy flow within him undeterred and letting various simulated thoughts run through his mind… He had lost that tournament battle… By vote of course, he had not been willing to kill the Gilgai… However still, the loss had made him think. So that was what he was doing, sleeping here, letting those thoughts flow steadily through his entire being…

However this was indeed strange. While the thoughts swirled lightly around in his artificially intelligent self, his sensors indicated a strange flux in the space-time continuum… it was possible, Methuselah deduced, that all the alterations to time that had taken place in his previous battle, had inadvertently led him into a wormhole, which had brought him back to a time far before his battle… according to his sensors… it was now far before…

However, it did not dully matter much, and Methuselah went to sleep again, unalerted by any of his sensors for a long time… In fact, he was not disturbed for many years, his internal chronometer keeping track of the time passed since he had awakened last… so when his sensors tripped once more, he grudgingly awoke from his low power state… A thousand years? The emotion of incredulity was hard to simulate, but Methuselah thought he did a pretty good job. He had been asleep for a thousand years? And as his sensors allowed him to see his own surface, he realized that his surface had evolved into an entire planet while he had been sleeping. There were geological structures, whole ecologies, and various stone structures that had been built on his surface. And it appeared. They’re were people. People living on him! This was a very, very strange case… He could not move now, in fear of upsetting the balance that had been created during the last one thousand years… So instead, he would do a little bit of probing…

A small rumble shook the earth. Most would have interpreted it as a small earthquake, but in reality, it was simply Methuselah’s version of a yawn. It was time to investigate what had occurred during his slumber. A small bit of the earth blackened instantly, liquefying as it rose up into a meter-wide, sphere shaped blob of dark liquid. The probe, for that was what it was, instantly began taking in data, the temperatures, the wind speed, the level of energy, etc. It immediately noticed the large cathedral that was standing, and quickly move toward it, instantly scanning it and taking in the dimensions, the building material, and the length of time it had been standing there. Through the open doors it squeezed, hovering slightly as it made its way through the halls. There were pictures there, each one done in beautiful paint. The probe quickly extended a few tendrils to take samples of the paint for further analysis, and further gathered data as it proceeded to hover down the hallway… So much had been done in the time since Methuselah had slept…

Finally, it appeared in a large room. There were reflections everywhere, and the probe instantly began calculating the dimensions and angles of the room, judging the directions light was refracting off of these mirror-like surfaces. There were three other figures there, each one instantly subjected to the probe’s scan… They were all warriors, judging by the apparently primitive weapons that they each held. One had been utilizing wings, which extended from his back before shrinking out of existence. A being of angelic descent perhaps. Methuselah had many dealings with that of the angelic order. Another the probe could recognize as a Virtue. Methuselah had much knowledge on the stories of the Virtues, and the eternal battle the waged against the Vices. This one however, was not that of the Greek or Roman mythologies. Japanese perhaps, considering the garb he was dressed in. And the third… A strange one to be sure. He could not be classified under any preexisting information, although the probe did seem to recall from its short term memory that the Ancient had some information concerning that figure. It took an capture of the environment, and sent the picture via its link to Methuselah. It would be able to find out who this being was almost instantly.

Until then, it simply hung in the air, and the Living Dust inside of it swirled for a second before bubbling with energy. It would not greet them. It was not programmed for greeting, but the peaceful gathering of information. However, it did of a small message from Methuselah…

“Greetings, tenants…” said a voice, emitting from the small probe like it was a loudspeaker. The voice was not static, like from a radio of sorts, but it was not like a person was standing there either. It was monotonous, and perfect in its pronunciation. There was no accent, no hint of slang, or any sign of imperfection in the way the voice spoke. “My sensors have indicated that you three are potentially the most powerful people on this new planet. If you present a danger to the public, I must ask you to get off my new planet…”

[Jack London]

"Been awhile eh? Where are the others?"

A familiar voice echoed through the main room, causing the weapon master to turn his head and look at the newcomer. It was Meiyo, a virtue in the Bushido code-- Honor. He was a man of unbound imagination, his power coming solely from it. All he needed was his brush and canvas. With that, life can instantly sprout at his finger tips as easily as he could end it. Charles admired the art in which he created in battle; it made it that much more interesting to battle him. A friendly smile adorned his face as he approached.

"Patience, we only need to wait for one more." Charles replied, polietly, as he gave a soft smile back. "It is an honor to have you here, Meiyo." he added, with a tiny bow, just before another made his entry.

“Here’s one, if you’re curious,” An angel spoke, upon his descent, replying to Meiyo's comment. As his mighty wings folded, they began to dematerialize, leaving their plane for the time being. He apparently didn't admire them as most would, but he now looked no more human than they did.

“I’m Kiramus, you?" Kiramus introduced himself, looking at the virtue. An angel of the higher courts and probably one of those who still knows of Charles before his desperate move. Having fundamental manipulation over both space and time, Kiramus proves that speed is equal to strength. While being the less serious type, he knows when his attention is needed. The angel seemed perplexed for a slight moment, noticing the many reflections of himself and the other two in almost every direction.

"It's good to see you here as well, Kiramus," Charles said as he repeated the small bow. As he returned to his normal posture, a slight rumble of the earth underneath them could be felt. At this, the weapon master only smirked.

He's awakened.

A blob of some sort could be seen hovering toward them, several yards away, eventually stopping to examine them all. Charles eyed it carefully as his eyes narrowed, though he was quite sure as to what it was. The blob began to bubble as a voice began to emit from it.

"Greetings, tenants. My sensors have indicated that you three are potentially the most powerful people on this new planet. If you present a danger to the public, I must ask you to get off my new planet." The voice was much like that of a robot, void of life and perfect in its pronounciation.

"My apologies, Methuselah," Charles responded. It was Methuselah that had been here the entire time. Or, rather, they were on Methuselah the entire time. He had apparently been in a slumber for quite some time, only to find that he had become an inhabited planet. He is a being of great knowledge, one that observes his opponent's moves before striking, to exploit weaknesses. There is more to him than his size as he proves that knowledge is a weapon greater than any other.

"We were only looking for a friendly battle. We have no intentions of harming your residents. However..." His eyes seemed to gleam for a moment as his head gently shifted into the light. "...I was hoping you would join us. If you wish to battle elsewhere, do notify me, though I can imagine that to be a slightly difficult wish to grant, given your residents. On that note..."

A slight breath escaped his lips as they closed, as all four of them had been teleported at the same time to the top of the cathedral. The top was flat for the most part, other than the towers that continued to rise toward the sky several yards away from their position. There was a gentle gust of wind felt soon after their arrival, blowing Charles' hair to the side as he smoothly tucked it behind her ear.

"As you know, you have come here for a friendly battle. The real reasoning behind this, I shall disclose." The weapon master paused before continuing. "I am no longer the man I once was. In fact...I vaguely remember him. I once had a purpose, a purpose that I thought had been accomplished, but I am here because I am either wrong or with a new purpose. For years I have wandered blindly, in search of clarity itself, but to no avail. With each passing day, I forget a fragment of my past, only to be replaced with great confusion. My mind's eye is closed, and it doesn't seem like any amount of mental focus will open it."

With a swift movement of his hand, his rapier was drawn, lifting it up to his face and staring at the hilt-- the orb. Only the same results ensued. His reflection was still as faint as it was before. "What happens to me...if I can no longer see my reflection? That orb is a part of my soul and it is dying." Charles continued, sorrow within his eyes as he slowly lowered the blade. "I still remember a battle I had with my teacher, the one in which I was then named a God. He told me... that if I should ever lose my own reflection, all is lost." Lifting up his chin, and with determination in his eyes, he continued, "So, I stand before you, with but a single favor. That battle tested the very threads of my being, and if I can feel that same tension at my finger tips...I still have faith."

With a quick glance at the horizon, Charles made a single step foward. "By the end of this day, I will be only one out of two things. I will either be returned of my clarity or I shall lay a fatal blow to myself and be reborn as but an infant, with a clean slate and absolutely no previous memory."

"Give it your best shot, mates" he ended, with a grin as he impaled the ground with Nameless, causing every psionic molecule of its being to shoot outward in every direction. It looked as though stars had erupted at one single point, looking to take anything in their way with them. Depending on how much one is struck with will determine the amount of mental damage they shall have inflicted upon them. Hit with too many, would result in a complete mental shut down. The orb that was embedded in the hilt had rose from its position and made its place upon his necklace, next to the piece of iron.

And, it was at that very moment, that the sun had made it over the horizon line.

[Chariot of Fire]

“I would enjoy partaking in such an interactive study,” replied the small levitating sphere; the probe that Methuselah had sent out to converse with the others. He had quickly established a direct connection to his probe upon learning the position of these beings inhabiting his surface. The probe had sent him the data it had gathered, and now Methuselah was speaking directly through his probe. However, before he could make any other comments, the being who had summoned them here instantly teleported them to the top of the cathedral… From here, Methuselah’s probe could see the vast landscape that had spurted up from this once uninhabited planet. The sun was just beginning to rise on the edge of the horizon, and the golden sphere shone its beautiful rays over the land, gentle fingers upon a celestial hand stretching over the ground.

However, it was then that Charles spoke. He spoke about his own fading persona, and as Methuselah listened on through his probe, he was also searching through his virtual libraries of information… In what seemed like no time at all, he had searched, cross-referenced, and matched each of these combatants facial features and aspects of entry with the stores of knowledge he held within him… Needless to say, he quickly understood the situation that was presented to him…

“I am sorry for your loss,” replied Methuselah, his probe emitting his voice in the same grey, monotonous tone. It was almost depressing to hear the condolences given in such an unsympathetic tone. The emotion of depression was quite difficult to simulate for the small probe. So it simply simulated a blank apathy instead. However, despite the lack of meaning behind its tone, the ancient machine took that moment to broadcast a different sort of tone. “I may be able to help you…” stated the small probe, its voice radiating toward Charles without waver, “Charles, former God of Clarity. Your works and deeds have been inscribed in many texts…. The Servant’s Tale especially has some interesting notations. If you require this information upon forgetting your identity, I shall be glad to give it to you…”

However, the time for aid would come later. Now was the time to battle. If the probe had knuckles, it would have cracked them… There was nothing quite like the starting of a battle to wake an ancient weapon up from its dormant slumber… Charles stabbed his blade into the ground, and a small star-like apparition had exploded. Data, which was constantly being gathered by the probe, determined the small dots of light to be psionic molecules, each of which would be detrimental to any thought process of these organic beings. However, such a disruptive energy would not do wonders for the small probe either… And so, as the psionic molecules shot toward him, the probe’s surface simply bubbled slightly, like the surface of a boiling spring before settling back to a plain, liquid-like black. The psionic molecules collided with its surface, and instantly dissipated into the blackness of the probe’s surface. The surface was no long Living Dust, as it had been a moment ago. Now, it was a conductor of sorts, a lightning rod for psychic energy. Originally, the technology has been used to enhance computer reception of brainwaves. However, over a few thousand years, Methuselah had been able to evolve it into absorbing any sort of psychic energy. That’s not to say that it could not be overloaded. There had to be a release for the energy so as not to risk ‘overdosing’ so to speak.

The psychic molecules were concentrated into a layer single upon the probe’s surface. As more and more psionic molecules crashed into this layer, it grew in power and in concentration, until a visible purple aura seemed to be surrounding the probe… This was a ‘force field’ of sorts, composed of the psionic molecules that Charles had hurled at them. Any one who came into contact into it would suffer as if they had been struck by thousands of these psionic molecules. It would prevent physical contact with the probe, as well as any psychic based attacks, such as telekinesis.

“Ah, and you two are Kiramus and Honor,” stated Methuselah’s probe, very clearly and distinctly as the probe hung in midair, “There is much written about you in various archives… The Bushido Virtues make quite a name for themselves in Japanese lore… And Kiramus, it seems like you have quite a reputation in the courts of the angelic… Such power within such a small spiritual frame…”

With that, an invisible force seemed to explode from within the probe. It radiated outward, passing through grass, air, and space without being affected by gravity, physics, nor any other physical boundaries. This force was a kind of spiritual disrupter, and it would scramble any spiritual molecules that it came upon like a whisk in a bowl of eggs… The result would be quite painful, and would possibly lead to destruction of the spirit or soul that it came into contact with. And since it was operating solely in the spiritual plane, it would not be halted by spatial manipulation, nor the bending of time…. Anyone with a soul, such as Honor or Charles, or anyone composed of spiritual energies, like the angel, Kiramus, would be utterly thrown into chaos and destruction…

OOC: There we go! Just a note, PM me if you have any questions.

[Rokazu]

OOC: sorry for the wait guys.

IC:
Kiramus was teleported to the top of the cathedral with the Meiyo and a probe of Methuselah as Charles began to explain the reasons for this battle. The angel kept his silence as his friend told the three of them about his horrifying…experience of losing his previous conscience. It wasn’t exactly amusing to lose the very essence of one’s soul. The angel realized what loss it would be for Charles to forfeit all his knowledge, all his memories….and all his powers.

Even as an Omniversal-heaven being, Kiramus had no experience of losing himself; he might have gone berserk out of anger or frustration a few times, but the very existence of his soul fading away was unheard of. Whatever happening to Charles seemed inevitable; and what could it mean that the Clarity is fading? For all possibilities a fading in truth could mean chaos to the order of the Omniverse. Charles may be self-proclaimed, but Kiramus had witnessed the awesome power of that orb that used to hang at the end of Charles’s amulet – as the God of Clarity.

“I cannot be sure in what ways I could help,” the angel exclaimed, “but if one battle is all I can do now, then I shall be at….”

“…And Kiramus,” just then did the angel realize the machine speaking, “it seems like you have quite a reputation in the courts of the angelic… Such power within such a small spiritual frame…”

The angel felt rather rude, seeing as he interrupted another one speaking. He could barely finish his thoughts when Charles put his rapier onto the ground, and Kiramus detected a strong spike of magic flow, as a wave of psionic molecules exploded outward, all from the same source of energy as before. That same little orb, which was now part of the Weapon Master’s….well weapon, was the source yet again of Charles’s powers. Before, when the man was a God which played with the conscience of other beings, it seemed logical. However, now seeing as the man proclaimed himself weapon master, it was rather…strange to see that the man manipulated psionics all the same.

“Now that’s a good sign is it not?” Kiramus said, though not intending anyone to hear him as he began working his own defenses, “at least some of the oldies are still here.”

The angel remained in place, simply folding the space an inch away from his physical shell onto the space that immediately surrounded Charles. If he left too much space there would be too much time to react. This space fold efficiently created a portal that would route the psionic molecules back at Charles. As they reached the unnatural bend of space, the molecules would seem to exist at two places at once for the shortest moment, but Kiramus would then have guided the molecules to exit at the other end of the bend. Kiramus’s natural abilities were not primarily meant for battling anyway; they were more manipulation of situations and attacks that brought the angel through most of his…less friendly encounters.

Nearby, Methuselah had already begun his reaction; some sort of aura began to form around the probe of the Ancient, glowing a gradually stronger purple light. Before Kiramus could take another breath the machine had initiated an explosion wave, similar or same in nature to the offense that Charles had just pulled off. It was also some sort of attack against the soul, but this time it did not assault from the physical plane, but the spiritual plane.

Why bother transferring it there? Kiramus thought.

The angel knew that the attack would have the same effects on whatever plane it was sent out at. On the physical plane the material shells could not defend one’s soul against a psionic attack anyway. No matter, however, what plane the attack came from, Kiramus could still manipulate it around to avoid his own conscience. Forming a space curving sphere at the spiritual plane, the explosion’s wave would pass around the angel’s barrier in a curve as though it was traveling straightly. Kiramus would have redirected the attack at Charles, but he wasn’t trying to kill, was he? The angel did not dare overestimating the weakened God’s power; if he proved stronger he would also respond with more fierceness. Still, Kiramus knew that this could be a very bad mistake for him.

He must’ve known my powers, the angel deduced, otherwise he wouldn’t have bothered transferring the wave to the spiritual plane.

However, the Ancient one must’ve fallen for the same mistake many others who had faced Kiramus. The spatial and temporal manipulation power of the angel extended over any planes of the Omniverse, not limited to the physical. True as there were no physical space in any other planes, all of them had a certain capacity of allowing some existence…That was the “space” of Kiramus’s power. Similar, the temporal control simply meant the duration of any objects in any planes within the Omniverse.

Now the way the battle would occur was clear; it was no team battle against the Weapon Master, instead it was a free for all. For the very least, Methuselah didn’t seem too friendly at the moment. Meanwhile, the angel silently formed a barrier around the Ancient One’s probe. This one conjured by Kiramus was a rather tricky one, for it not only operated on the physical, but also the spiritual plane. If the machine could access it, it was never too safe to assume it could enter and escape through it either. The barrier was undetectable for it had, at least at the moment, no effects and that it was invisible.

OOC: arrgh I knew something like this would happen. Chariot if you don’t understand please re-read Kiramus’s template once more, and thoroughly. As stated IC, Kiramus’s spatial and temporal control extends over any plane, not only physical. This, I stated in his template: “not limited to material planar space” and “not limited to material plane and its effects can be felt in other planes if Kiramus wills it so.” If you have a problem then PM me…I didn’t realize that I would make such confusion. Again, I apologize..

[Jack London]

( Sorry for my absence. It's spring vacation now so I want to get this up and running again as soon as possible. FR gave me control of his character for the battle, so we're continuing without him. I also see he got banned -.-...hope it's not for too long. The post order is same as before; post whenever, just not more than once after my post. The cycle will be kept intact. My motivation for this battle still holds strong; lets finish this guys. )

“I am sorry for your loss,” Methuselah had apologized, in response to Charles’ revelation of his situation. The machine, however, maintained its somewhat apathetic tone, despite the meaning behind the words. Most may have taken this response as insulting, in a way, but Charles knew that Methuselah meant what he said, at heart. He didn’t ask for his friend’s sympathy, but simply a battle to reawaken Clarity. Though still vague upon the concept of how exactly such a technique will work, he can still feel that part of his soul speaking to him and reassuring him that this was the right path.

“I may be able to help you… Charles, former God of Clarity; your works and deeds have been inscribed in many texts. The Servant’s Tale especially has some interesting notations. If you require this information upon forgetting your identity, I shall be glad to give it to you.” Methuselah had spoken once more, in hopes that he could help in some way. Though Charles greatly appreciated the offer, forgetting his very purpose and past was simply a side affect of his main problem. Regardless, the Weapon Master smiled understandingly and shook his head slowly, with a gentle closure of his eyes.

As he reopened them, a memory of his past suddenly arrived at his doorstep and asked for permission to be re-entered into the confines of his mind. “The Servant...? You…you mean Tulpa?!” he asked incredulously, looking both confused and happy at the same time as memories began to flood back into his mind, though slowly at first. He remembered the man well—the Egyptian who’s sole purpose was to serve the people of the world for the greater good. There was something about him that still remained a mystery, however, something that seemed to cry out loudly in the darkness, signifying a great importance. Despite his efforts in remembering, all that seemed to return to him was a philosophy he was taught by his master, which was also simply a phrase…

‘Beauty of the Beast.’

“I truly appreciate your offer, Meth,” Charles replied, “but if all goes well in this battle, those memories will be returned to me, as well as much more.” He stated, with a newly found tone of confidence.

“I cannot be sure in what ways I could help,” the angel, Kiramus, began, “but if one battle is all I can do now, then I shall be at it.”

With little disappointment, the combatants easily evaded the psionic molecules and began a launch of their own assaults. At this, the Weapon Master lifted his chin up slightly, in his determination to be ready for anything and everything that came at him. The angel’s speed and endurance made Charles’ assault nothing less than child’s play as he folded the space around himself onto the space Charles was occupied. A simple attack would serve for a simple counter, he would assume. Although, the psionic particles that made up his weapon was of his own origin, leaving it to have little to none affect upon him. The Weapon Master focused and manipulated the psionic particles so that they were simply teleported back to the astral plane.

Making quick work of his brush, Meiyo drew a perfect circle upon the canvas, which resulted in a barrier to manifest into existence around his entire being. The barrier acted as a substance that would neutralize the psionic particles as it passed through it, resulting in simply feeding the virtue psionic energy, which can be used later in time. A smirk appeared upon the virtue’s face as the barrier disappeared from both his canvas and reality itself.

“How’s that?” Meiyo called to the Weapon Master, in a sort of taunting way, though playful, nonetheless.

Charles simply grinned at the virtue and at his desire to construct competition between the two in an attempt to add further interest to the battle. As the neutral psionic particles settled within the virtue’s mind, it seemed as though a small fragment of Charles’ own mind was fused with his own. He now looked at the Weapon Master, as though under a new light, but at the same time saw something else. At first, it was a small sparkle of pure white light, emitting from the sphere known as Clarity, around Charles’ neck, like a distant star in the sky. Even the small twinkle seemed weak within its own way, but within that twinkle, the virtue saw but a glance of another being.

It took the appearance of a snow white wolf, battered and seemingly strained from something. The pure white of the wolf’s coat shined with the brilliance to that of the sun itself. It was also sleeping deeply, looking as though it would never wake, but if looked closely upon, one could see that it was still breathing, though extremely steadily. Meiyo stood still and with awe for simply a moment, before beginning to paint something upon his canvas once again. His hand moved with elegance with each perfect stroke as the very wolf he had seen was painted upon the canvas. With that, he manifested the wolf into his vision, seeing it once again and more carefully. It was definitely Charles, he was certain of that much, but it was something else was well, almost an entirely different being at the same time. However, as Charles had explained, it was slowly dying.

“So…is this Clarity?” Meiyo asked, looking up at Charles.

The Weapon Master laid his hand upon the orb and wondered what he had just seen. He felt the small bit of energy released from the orb, with the little it had left, acting upon its own will as though it had been awake. It did not seem eluded by the fantasies of its own dreams during its slumber, but simply required that much more effort to act. And with the little strength it had, it was almost deathly. He did not understand the significance or purpose of showing Meiyo, but he simply hoped it did not try something like that again. Charles simply nodded in response to Meiyo’s question, only to be faced with an obstacle just a few moments afterward.

A force erupted from Methuselah's probe, threatening the very threads of his spirit and the others. Such a deadly attack-- if there was one thing he could trust from the machine, it was his promises that were not held back by emotion. He wanted him to give it his all and he knew he would get it from him.

"Equilibirum, my shield.
Chaos and distortion, I will see no more.
And let the odds of all be my sword!"

At that moment, a barrier appeared in front of his spiritual self, resulting in the force that came into contact with it to be repelled away from the target and be sent in several other directions. Charles backed up slightly as though he had been holding up the barrier and felt the force of the blow against it. He then felt the psionic particles that were sent toward Kiramus returning to him, in some sort of counter. However, they had no effect upon their owner and simply restored what was lost.

Thinking about the immediate past, he seemed to wince at the phrase he had come up with to save himself. Sure, he liked writing and was still learning, but that was simply trash. My teacher would kill me... He thought as he watched a sword manifest upon the grip of his hand. With the last line of his phrase, he summoned the Possible Sword. It's a blade that existed in a novel known as The Scar by China Miéville. As he gripped the fully manifested sword by the hilt, he looked up at Meiyo to see that he had survived Methuselah's assault by drawing a pillar upon his canvas, which worked similarly like Charles' barrier. It manifested in front of the virtue and caused the unknown force to be repelled.

His eyes narrowed as he looked from one person to another, moving the blade so that it was facing directly in front of him. He first coated the blade in spiritual energy as he focused, his eyes closed and his muscles began to tense up and move in a single swift motion as he swung the blade in a diagnol in front of him, with great phsyical might. The blade was almost five feet in length, but even then, there wasn't a way it could reach his opponents. The motion was almost usless, but there was only a fraction of a second of silence before all hell seemed to break loose around them.

Every tree for miles was cut into countless pieces, along with every blade of grass, every particle of oxygen. Even the cathedral made a sort of sound, as though a thounsand blades had just crashed into it from every possible angle, all at the same time. The Weapon Master's eyes remained closed as a single lock from his hair fell to the ground, holding the sword firmly and in solid position. The Possible sword was a blade that existed simultaneously where the wielder willed it to be and where it already is, upon its activation, resulting in countless strikes within a single visible motion. Charles made sure the people upon the planet, along with himself, were not disturbed, but everywhere else there was a whistling of a blade somewhere. And its existance wasn't limited by the material plane, but its rampage reeked through the spiritual realm as well, causing the spiritual energy that existed upon the blade to crush any spiritual being that came into contact with it.

With an opening of his eyes, Charles took a casual, but defensive stance, holding the blade as though it were a katana styled one, pointing it toward his opponents as he awaited for their response. He knew that they would evade this one, but he would make sure that the loop holes in this strike would be patched in the next one.

( Sick signature, by the way, CoF ^^. )