Free for all.

Link shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He was taking one of his profusion of naps. The dream he was having wasn’t a particularly pleasant one.

“Katka, time for dinner!” Geo called out the kitchen door. Getting no response, he walked out, the screen door slamming behind him and the snow crunching under his boots. Their backyard overlooked a tundra that started almost where their little town ended. Geo walked a few paces past the oak tree that dominated the yard, and took a moment to survey the snowy desert. When he turned around, however, the sight filled him with unimaginable horror. His little sister hung from a low branch by a rope around her neck. Her whole body was slack, her long brown hair covered part of her face, and blood dripped from her arms. Geo sunk to his knees in the snow, shock welling up like the tears in his eyes. “Kat, who could have done this to you?” he questioned, his voice cracking. He had always been there to protect her, but now he had failed. It was at that point he noticed a light blue piece of paper propped up against the base of the tree, her favorite type. He picked it up and brushed off a bit of snow. It read, “Dear Geo; I had hoped it wouldn’t come to this, but I can’t take it anymore. Since I was ten, our father has habitually raped me. I wanted to tell you, but I knew he would hurt me more. I’m sorry, please forgive me. And please don’t tell mother about this note. Love forever, Kat.” When he finished, Geo looked up at the pathetic sight of his sister, her once bright blue eyes now closed forever because of a secret she could no longer keep. He stuffed her final note into his coat. He finally broke down crying, his tears falling into the mixture of blood and snow under his sister.

Link awoke with a start. A dream, it had been just a dream. However, that still didn’t exclude the fact that it was a memory. He never told anyone the truth about that tragedy, and most in his town believed it was the work of a gang. He had avenged Kat, though, driving his bastard of a father out of the city. It still didn’t help him come to terms with it, and he kept trying to run away. It always seemed like he was on the defensive, always on the run. That thought made his temper flare, and he decided he needed an outlet. He quickly rose and strapped on his swords, the scabbards making an X on his back, and then proceeded out of the hideout. He didn’t even bother picking up his muset bag, which contained all of his items.

Outside, the sun shone brightly on the Water Capital of Mac Anu. The cheerful hustle and bustle of the city did nothing to improve his mood, and actually made him even more irritated. He flipped his hood up to obscure his face, and made his way through the crowd to the chaos gate. He pushed past a group of players on the bridge, and ignored the insuing catcalls. Before he got to his destination he wrote a hasty message for the BBS saying he wanted a fight. Almost immediately after he posted it, three successive ‘pings’ announced letters of acceptance from other players. One was Usagi, an old questing partner. As he approached the swirling Chaos Gate he barked out the keywords irately and was transported to the field.

Link appeared in a grassy meadow. Knee high grass swayed in a gentle breeze as the sun shone warmly over the whole scene. He hated it. At any other time this would have been an ideal fighting ground, but now he had wanted a snowy field, to match his homeland. The place that seemed so far away and long ago now, where he had once had a family…

(OOC: Edit to include SP)

Duels were a strange thing. Never once had Dien truly lost one in the sense of his abilities, and yet he'd been PKed his fair share of times. Now that he'd agreed to this new one, he couldn't help but feel some strange sentiments as he logged in. He wasn't just good, he was too good. Some people were sickened by his skills (or so he thought), and he was beginning to grow tired of it as well. A game isn't much of a game if you keep winning at it: then it becomes a habit and a detriment to your actual abilities. You start to get cocky and then you start losing again, all the while thinking that you're still winning. It had happened many times to Dien.

He stood atop a spire that stuck out over the city, taking in the weather that was actually deviant from the norm in the Water City. Instead of being a bright, sunny day like it usually was, this day reminded him of the one time he'd stayed in Boston: the morning was filled with fog, and the sky was overcast, signalling the onslaught of a storm. It was a rare event indeed that the weather deviated from its norm here in the virtual world, but it didn't really matter. The streets were still stirring and whirring with the countless hordes of people who played the game.

It wouldn't be long, however, that he would have to jump down and pass through the ever-so-regularly-spinning Chaos Gate (which was ironic, to say the least). He'd just accepted an invitation to a fight, and knew that once his mental preparation was complete, he'd have to go and repeat the motions once more, proving his mastery of the blade to whoever chose to be at his front (although they wouldn't get to see the whole thing: they'd be dead long before then). For now, though, he was clearing his mind, stopping all thought save for those that would save his life.

One might perceive him as a stoic, standing there with his arms crossed and his eyes closed, his body swaying only ever-so-slightly in the calm breeze. The mist that preceded a coming rain began to slowly soak his garments, and it was then that he knew: he was ready.

How he'd gotten atop the spire was an interesting story that will be saved for later (along with how one of the spires from Dun Loireag had been transported to the Delta Server - which honesly I can't explain), but his descent from it to the bustling city streets below won't be saved. The crowds beneath him were moving rapidly, swarming and swelling around the base of the spire, most of them apparently oblivious to its height. His timing would have to be perfect.

Now! and with a leap of faith, his body shot off the spire's top, beginning its long descent to the cobblestone below. He'd developed a sense for things like this, and as his body dropped downward and downward, one would think that he would surely land atop one of the moving crowd below: no hole appeared for him to land in until the last instant when, sure enough, a gap formed in the players just large enough for him to land in without hurting himself too much.

The impact would have been lessened with wings, but as it were, he landed in a very dramatic style, his feet colliding with the dry stone and his whole body bending in embrace of the impact. All that energy became stored up in him as he crouched, like a spring ready to release at any moment. People were staring at him as he waited, still in his crouched position and waiting for the recoil to kick in. Comments were made, but he ignored them, suddenly pushing off the earth and jumping some 10 feet higher into the air then he should have been able to. Conservation of energy: Physics 101.

The end of his jump placed him right where he expected: about five yards away from the Chaos Gate. The crowd was peculiarly thin in this area, but it mattered not, he had one thing to do and one thing alone. With a cocky smirk, he opened his mouth to the keywords that would transport him to his battle. A triplet of golden rings dissolved his figure, and moments later he was found in the same grassy field as Link, standing some yards away.

The sky was blue, the grass golden, and the scenery majestic. A perfect day, he thought, taking in a deep breath, for a slaughter.

"Hey Link," he said, his hand covering the hilt of Zenganshon, "let's get this thing started eh?" With that, he shifted his weight so slightly that it was unseen by any spectators, and the rare blade he held was now ready to defend. Come on, fight me!

SP: 35/35

A burning fire raged in Raquar's head. He was slowly losing control of himself. Raquar's vision blinked in and out of focus, hours seemed to flow like seconds, as minutes seemed to drag on like weeks. His head burned, and the rest of his body felt like ice.

"I need some air." Standing up took much exertion on the part of the Long Arm. Gasping for breath, Raquar supported himself against the joint corner of the wall. The alley he had occupied for a few weeks now was deserted. He was the only living, breathing organism there.

The leaves at his feet twitched as a feeble breeze tried to stir itself into a cooling wind. Staggering, Raquar placed one foot in front of the other. Managing only a few steps, Raquar collapsed a heat on the paved, brick ground. Heat and cold rolled over him in sporadic waves as Raquar desperately fought to stay in control. His efforts were futile, and darkness, dankness, and numbness overcame him.

Raquar awoke in a tall city. It was unlike any he had seen before. The buildings were crumbling into ruins, the spires of the land were jagged, and many were broken near the base. The place gave off a sense of desolation and desertion. Walking slowly, Raquar ran his hand along the ruinous walls, feeling the coarse, yet somehow soft, stone. His feet brought him to a small ledge.

Squinting over the precipice, Raquar thought that he could vaguely make out the entrance to a concave. Swinging down, Raquar managed to secure his toes onto the ledge, while hanging onto the ledge above. Taking a deep breath, Raquar let go of the upper ledge, and pressed himself against the lower one.

Losing the little balance he had, Raquar pitched forward into the darkness of the cave. It smelled of mold and must. It came suddenly and without warning. A flash of light, stabbing at his eyes caused Raquar’s body to clench and twist. Pain wrenched through Raquar’s body. He heard strangled and muffled voices. Something was happening, and he didn’t know what.

Raquar woke, the bright light stabbing at his eyes. Hastily, Raquar fumbled with his robe until he had created a makeshift hood to shade his eyes. Looking around through the shade, Raquar gaped amazingly at his surroundings.

The town of Mac Anu was absolutely normal. The brightness of the light was the same it had always been. For some reason though, it burned his eyes more. Something unearthed itself in his mind. A burning desire to destroy and demolish. Whirling, Raquar moved in a trance.

Raquar spoke the keywords to command the Gate to take him where he wanted to go. He arrived onto a plain field. Knee-high grass covered the landscape. Standing only a few paces away. Raquar noticed two Blademasters preparing to battle. Maybe they would be too busy to notice him. Maybe he could surprise them and annihilate them before they knew he was there.

Just two, that’s enough. Dien had the decency to confront Link head on, but the longarm was skulking around like a bandit.
“If you want to fight then come out into the open, no need to be lurking in the shadows,” Link called to the longarm. “Okay, so if we’re all here, lets get started. I’m impatient to say the least.” He took out a twirled his blade once, then slid his left foot into a fighting stance. Link was ready for anything, but was prepared to win, at any cost.

The ever-so-familiar chimes indicated the gating in of their final opponent, Raquar. Dien had encountered this player before in the time when he'd fought along side of him against Lyra and Hax to attempt entry into their clan. Things hadn't been going so well on the pirate ship docked in Mac Anu lately, but it didn't matter (as far as he was concerned, the ship represented nothing more than a symbol of skill and a group of friends to be made--nothing so abstract as some made it seem).

"If you want to fight then come out into the open, no need to be lurking in the shadows," the parent of the fight said regarding Raquar. It was true: there were only three of them, so attempting to hide in the shadows would be an exercise in futility. And Raquar, Dien thought, looking over to him, haven't we established that you don't do well in the dark?

A previous fight had demonstrated just how lacking his ability to fight in the dark was: and how he'd sacrifice sight for stealth. In fact, it hadn't been a good choice at all, and maybe, had he kept his eyes open, he would have been able to wind up beating the currently undefeated dueling blademaster. Not once had Dien lost a fight, save for a time when he'd pitted himself against one of much higher level. This time, though, the playing field was even, and if he could prevent a team-up, he could still come out victorious.

"Okay, so if we’re all here, lets get started. I’m impatient to say the least."

The words were simple: the words were clear. Link's desire to elicit bloodshed was made clear through these words, and Zenganshon's wielder had words in response. Patience is a virtue, he thought, shifting his weight once more, and I have no time to teach it! Without a moment's hesitation he was off once more, starting a fight that he knew he would win.

Lightly and swiftly his feet carried him across the ground, and he threw Zenganshon to his side, dragging it along with him through the air and preparing it for an attack. The borrowed rare blade seemed to sing with bloodlust, plenty more than eager to meet the insides of its opponent.

The charge Dien made was a simple one, running low and fast in a path that would take him right past Link. The earth was soft and the grass unhindering to his path, which would make life all the more easy should he miss. Being a heavy class meant taking a detriment of speed, but it didn't matter: he was up against another heavy class and a medium class--and his level was at least one higher than the highest there; he had the advantage.

He ran, covering the short distance between them in mere seconds while drawing Zen back for an attack. He would deliver a quick, passing blow to Link, marking a deep gash through his upper torso or neck. There was no guarantee that the blade would make contact, and if the other blademaster was perceptive enough, he'd likely block, but in that event Dien would just keep running by, allowing his sword to rebound and fall back behind him. In any case, the blade was brought up and aimed, flying ever faster to its destination.

SP: 35/35

"If you want to fight then come out into the open, no need to be lurking in the shadows,"

Raquar balked at the words. Skulking?!?!?! The presence inside of his mind roared to life as the unknown Blademaster spoke to him. What he said was confusing however. It was high noon in the middle of a giant grassland. Where were the shadows? The only inference Raquar could come up with was that the Blademaster had seen his hood and inferred that he was hiding.

The presence roaread again with unimaginable fury, and the feeble barrier he had erected shattered. His tranquil being was interrupted and transformed into a harsh, cold machine. Raquar sprinted toward the battle, feeling every tendon in his legs clench and release to the rhythm of his strides.

He was not able to strike the first blow however, as the other Blademaster reacted first. Through the attack, Raquar saw that it was Dien. New anger coursed through his blood like molten fire. He like the player surely enough but still, it was his turn to fall on Raquar's spear.

A gutteral howl tore itself from Raquar's lips as he charged. This attack was not going to be the usual speed and recover types that he normally used. It seemed that the presence favored power and decimating strokes over anything else.

Raquar stopped beyond reach of their blades but within reach of his spear. That was something he truly appreciated about this class. It's long reach. He whirled his spear in a downward arc, aiming to slash deeply into both of the Bladmaster's torsos.

SP: 30/30

Finally, some action Link reveled in the feeling of anticipation as he watched Dien charging at him. It was one of those meant to cut your opponent in half while keeping you from running into them Thats not how you start a fight, thats how you end one. Old anime cliche. As Dien got close, link sidstepped and spun his own sword to intercept the oncoming blade. The stell rang out as the weapons collided, but Dien kept going, so Link had no chance to counterattack. He cursed under his breath, but he'd get more chances.

At that point Link finally noticed the longarm coming at him. No, he was aiming for a point between Dien and himself. Link kew the range of a longarm and knew he had one shot at this. As the longarm got up to him and attacked Link rolled under the swing, popped up in front of the player, and whipped his sword up diagonally with a good deal of strenth behind it. He hoped the longarm would run into the problem adherent to having such a large weapon, getting caught off balance in an akward position. At any rate, this attack would suprise the crap out of them. Ah subterfuge is wonderful.

30/30 SP

(OOC: penalty on me! w00t!)

The clang of metal on metal was one that Dien had heard many times before. Be it in battle or in play, the sound always sent a chill down his spine, triggering a rush of adrenaline and a check of his focus. Without the sound, it was conceivable that he wouldn't be as good a fighter as he was. This time, though, the sound was aided by the vibrations and gyrations sent down his arm by the impact of Zenganshon on Link's own blade. Its simple form seemed to sing with the impact, crying for more battle. It was this blademaster's job to make sure that the sword wouldn't carry him to a place where he couldn't control it anymore.

His blade had bounced off Link's as expected, proving to Dien that Link was at least an average fighter. What came next, though, was the curdling cry from the throat of his old friend, Raquar. The man had turned into an animal, if sounds could be any judge of it, and he raised his spear high in a rash charge toward the two players whose swords had just met. In spite of how rash and unplanned the movement had been, there was the impeccable aspect of its brilliant timing, sweeping down on the two blademasters just after their own blades had met, giving them almost no time to fight back.

This particular aspect put Dien at a great disadvantage. Not only was his momentum carrying him in a direction that was not conducive to a block like he had to make, but his sword was still singing, trying to ring out the shock of impact. As the tip of Raquar’s spear swung in a long arc toward him, the blademaster who would have served to at least cushion the blade ducked out of the way, sending the whole sharp edge toward Dien and not helping him out any as he rolled toward Raquar.

By sheer luck, the sound of metal hitting metal greeted his ears once more, this time of Zenganshon meeting the head of the longarm’s weapon. Deflect? Dien thought, bending his knees and waist to try and at least allow the spear’s altered path to fly over his head and leave him unharmed. Meanwhile, Link had managed to approach Raquar and swing upward in an attack. Had circumstances been better, this opportunity might have been taken by Dien to attack the ridiculously oblivious blademaster, but for now there were bigger things to worry about…like the fact that he was about to fall to the ground because of the awkward way in which he’d evaded.

Such falls were a rare thing to see. Only once in a lifetime is such a masterful bail witnessed, and only if a person is exceedingly lucky. Bones would undoubtedly break, or people would be in shock over how there were none broken. His body rolled on the earth, his path hindered by the tall grass that shielded his fall a bit. Control was released and the ragdoll physics of the game took over, letting Dien’s body land face up, lying on the earth. Immediately as he could, he stood up, shaking out the bruises he’d just received however painful they were, and snapping back into a defensive stance, watching as the battle raged on between Raquar and Link.

SP: 35/35

(Sorry but I'm going to withdraw. I've got some other stuff going on in my life.)