Mac Anu was deserted by midnight. Even the West Coast insomniacs had to get up for school the next day, Friday. Stane tip-toed around the city, hiding behind light poles and ledges much too short or skinny to fit him. With a few nails in his teeth and a stack of papers underneath his arm, he set out to litter the streets and walls of Mac Anu with posters displaying his plan. He used the butt of his gigantic sword for a hammer, vibrating the walls as he nailed the papers into them, displacing a stone above and below the nail slightly. As the children slept with visions of tests in their heads, Stane slunked around town, quiet as a mouse.
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Stane had spent the better part of last week finding the perfect map for this idea. He knew that as soon as he hit the field, his verdict would be obvious. The whole point of the map would be an obvious, huge obstacle in the vertical direction. Any dispute would lead to confusion and ultimately failure.

The one he had chosen consisted of a medium-sized mountain, with a very peculiar climate pattern. On half of one side of the mountain, a lush forest full of green leaves and vines scaled upwards, until the summit: a flat piece of hard rock about 30 feet in diameter. It would be a perfect place for a brawl. On the other half of that side was the exact opposite, a desert so smooth that it would have appeared to be a dust slide, impossible to travel upwards, if it weren't for the scattered cacti. The other half of the mountain consisted of tundra with permafrost ground and thick pine trees, and a swamp with bubbling pools jutting out from the mountain like ladles and dreary trees, bent over and gnarled. Even more amazing was the lunar eclipse that happened every day at 11pm, eastern time; a perfect marker for the end of the event.

Stane glanced down at his not-watch as Zane checked his real one, lifting up his visor. Three o'clock, right about the time everyone would get home from school; the first wave of guests. The workforce would be another two hours at least. Stane perched himself on top of the pawn shop and spied down at the players entering Mac Anu, cherishing each look on their faces as they spotted thousands of white sheets of paper with handwriting akin to crayons. Almost all of them were shocked, an emotion that sent Stane over the edge of hysteria. Some players were mad, them down and balling them up in fits of anger. Even fewer caught a stray flier in the air and read it thoughtfully, even excitedly. Stane took that as his cue and got into position.
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He entered the field, having recited the name* to the chaos gate, and positioned himself behind a shabby stand. It was made out of scrap wood Stane had knocked off of the pawn shop itself, ducking behind the counter and wedging his sword between planks. Each plank was acquired with one great push, and an even greater run away from a level 99 pawn shop attendant. He never bothered to look behind to see if they were chasing, but he ran anyway, ducking between players and tripping multiple times.

“Donations Here” was written in shaking handwriting across the top, and a piece of paper all ready populated with a few items was on the table. Stane checked to make sure the marker still worked, then walked over to the desert side of the mountain, shielding his eyes from the sun and spotting his old Curing Sword with a red sash tied to its tip. Everything was in place. Only a few more minutes, and the little hand would hit four, signaling the start of the event, and exactly seven hours from a total solar eclipse. Stane took a seat at the base of the forest: his chosen starting line.


*((officially, there's no name for this, so don't worry about it, I made up the field))

"Tick tick tick tick tick tick, TOCK!" Isato kept mumbling to himself having read the bulletin and waiting forever for Stane to get off his butt. Four o'clock had finally hit and off he went lickity split. Isato stared blankly at the really badly torn up plank before him just imaging where exactly it could of come from. "Kay sera sera." Isato chuckled as he left some of his newer cards. "To think I had finally reached level three cards, but hey a fight deserves a prize."

Tightening his bandanna the swordmaster headed west from his position. There his breathe started to crystallize as he looked onward, a partly cloudy snow fall with a chance of blood. Isato's ascent started.