| Wind rocked the sea of grass that was the Overworld Exodus. From out of the thick fog something began to appear... something strange. It was sparks, like the sparks from a fire, thousands of them, all traveling in a pack like a swarm of bees. They drifted quickly to a lone oak tree and began to conglomerate. From this conglomeration, a figure began to form. After a few moments, the figure was complete, a young man of average height, with black hair that covered most of his face. Behind his hair was a pair of sharp black sunglasses, lowered slightly to expose his auburn eyes. He wore a black untucked dress shirt with the top button unbuttoned with a pair of casually-fitting black jeans bottomed off with a pair of black skateboard shoes. He had his various weapons and whatnot holstered in unseen locations, but those will be described ever-so shortly. For the time being, he reached into one of his jeans pockets and removed a pack of cigarettes. He withdrew one, placed it in the corner of his mouth, and pocketed the pack. He lifted his left index finger to the tip of the cigarette and a small ball of sparks formed on his fingertip, causing the cigarette to light. He took a long, meditative drag on it before exhaling, the smoke quickly carried off by the breeze. He would wait here until his opponent arrived. |
Refuse is our inspiration, terrorism our trade, s a b a t o g e and piracy, chaos our mental state...  ...Mesmerizing, festering, intended for the faint of heart, cultish and anthemic, until death us do part... |
| A black shadow like puddle began to form on the ground near the lone tree, it grew bigger until it was a good meter in diameter, then a black body began to come from the center of the dark puddle, the shadowy cicle beginning to become smaller as more of the body came up from it. When there was nothing left of the dark puddle, there was just a black body, then the blackness began to come off the body and form a robe around a man that covered almost all of his body, only exposing his hands and his face. The man was somewhat above average height, had noticeably pale skin, and had hair almost as black as the darkness he came from. He opened his golden eyes, and streched his hand out, "come to me..." he said, his voice accompanied by a darker voice that was too deep to be any human being's, and ball of darkness appeared in his hand, "Maugan Ra," he said then clenched his hand, the ball of darkness turning into a black staff that held a circular jewel at the top of it, the jewel was a brilliant scarlet, and looked as though a fluid was flowing within it. He looked at the man in the tree, then looked around, then looked at the man again, "so, you are my opponent?" he said then cracked his neck, "well, it seems apparent that you are, so I shall introduce myself, I am Slaash Nosferatu, a necromancer, and you are?" |
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| Sage watched with indifference as the figure formed in front of him. No emotion was expressed through what little of his face could be seen. He simply stood and watched his opponent's arrival while the tip of his cigarette slowly burned. After Slaash introduced himself, Sage responded. "My name is Sage," he said in a deep, calm voice, "Sage de la Ros." The cigarette was nearing its end. He was eager to start, though he didn't show it at first. He paused in a moment of reflection and took another drag. After a moment, he said, "Well then, shall we begin?" |
Refuse is our inspiration, terrorism our trade, s a b a t o g e and piracy, chaos our mental state... ...Mesmerizing, festering, intended for the faint of heart, cultish and anthemic, until death us do part... |
| "We shall," he said with a smirk, then lifted his staff and tapped it onto the ground, then some dark magic come up from the ground and formed a ball of dark magic in front of Slaash, he then flicked the ball, and when he flicked it, it seperated into many knife-like objects that speed at Sage, "a light warm up first." |
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| Sage took in one last deep drag on the cigaratte, causing the end to glow bright red. He threw the butt forward from his mouth, and as he touched it, its glow intensified immensly until it functioned as a blinding flash, which would disorient Slaash. A dull thudding sound was heard as every knife contacted, but as the flash faded it would reveal that they contacted the tree and Sage was no where in sight. Instead, thousands of sparks floated overhead like twinkling fireflies. They immediately dived in front of Slaash and quickly reformed Sage, who, from a crouching position, executed a sweeping kick. With the sweep he kicked up hundreds of sparks that would fly at Slaash, distracting in their brightness and their potential to cause irritating singes on contact with his skin. Crouched with his back to his opponent, Sage would follow up the attack with a butterfly kick that would attempt to bring the tip of his left foot into contact with the top of Slaash's head. He would land behind Slaash, facing his back while sliding back slightly with his remaining momentum. |
Refuse is our inspiration, terrorism our trade, s a b a t o g e and piracy, chaos our mental state... ...Mesmerizing, festering, intended for the faint of heart, cultish and anthemic, until death us do part... |
| Slaash was somewhat surprised by Sage's flashbang effect of the cigarette, but did not move from where he was. When Sage kicked up the sparks, most just stopped when they touched his cloak, instantly going out, and not showing any signs of burns on his cloak, some of the sparks got to his face, but he did not even flinch as they burned his skin. Slaash watched as Sage preformed a butterfly kick and the force of the kick made his head and upper half of his body go down and forced him to drop his staff, but he spread his legs so he would not fall to the ground, picking himself up, he felt his head, and there was blood on his hand after feeling his head, he grinned at the sight of his blood. He summoned his staff back into his hand and held it above him, the jewel of the staff seeming as though a hurricane was happening inside it, then abruptly aimed the jewel of the staff at Sage, then three of his flayer skeletons were coming up from behind Sage, their razor sharp talons poised to cut him into shreds. |
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| Sage heard the rushing behind him. He sighed and closed his eyes. When they reopened, the gold bands that encircled his irises began to glow brightly. The world around him slowed to a blur as he went into impact time. He considered the situation and the best method to attack. In this mode, he could place percision blows and consider attacks several moves ahead. Once he had made his mind up, he began to strike. In real time, he ducked under each talon, rotated 180 degress, and severed the center flayer between one of its center spinal vertebrae. He would then continue his rotation until he faced the flayer that was now on his left, step forward with his left foor, then would jump and crush the flayer's skull with a roundhouse kick that brought his right heel into the back of the flayer's skull. Finally, he pivoted one last time to face the right flayer and executed a front tuck and severed both of the flayer's arms in the first half of the flip. With the last half, he delivered a swift kick back with his right heel into the flayer's spine before landing on his right foot. Sage sighed and looked over to Slaash. "Don't waste my time with puppets," he said, levelling the blade in his left hand with Slaash's head. OOC: I know that seems like a bit of a stretch in terms of that almost being godmodding but when you're fighting puppets, I think that's legal. Not positive though. |
Refuse is our inspiration, terrorism our trade, s a b a t o g e and piracy, chaos our mental state... ...Mesmerizing, festering, intended for the faint of heart, cultish and anthemic, until death us do part... |
| Slaash chuckled, "I guess my cute little pets can't take care of you..." he said then tapped his staff onto the ground, then let go of it and stepped back, the staff stayed upright and began to raise upwards quickly then stopped suddenly Slaash smirked, "eclipse," at his word the area whent pitch black, "I like this spell," his voice said, it came from every direction, "it sucks up every kind of energy... light, heat, and even magic," his chuckle echoed through the darkness then he aimed to cut at his opponent's gut with a rather large knife. |
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