The House of Spiders (Location, Training, & Mentorship Thread)

死 History: 死

The origins of the House of Spiders has long been the subject of debate to the uninitiated and scholars of ancient history have long been perplexed as to its origins. Yet, recent discoveries of the so-called Black Scrolls had enabled the outside world a look into the foreboding relic.

Said to be first built during the fourteenth century C.E, originating as a secret outpost of the Kamakura Shogunate by members of the imperial office. It is claimed that due to the attempted Mongol invasions a few decades prior to its establishment, the ninth shogun of the Kamakura was wary of potential threats from the continent. As a puppet ruler swayed by the ministers of the court, he was pressured to expand the army yet lacked the resources and support to raise an already spent land force even further. However, a local lord, whose rice fields had been stricken with blight, pledged two-thirds of the children in his region to be trained in war, so long as his wealth was subsidized and crops delivered to the remaining families of the common peasantry. What was to become of these children? Well, as the story goes the ministers of the court had foreseen internal rifts between the rulers of its own lands as the crop blight spread to the other prefectures. A force loyal not to local leaders but directly attached to the Shogun, and subsequently to the ministers, was needed. The fear of the Mongols had all but vanished after the great typhoon which swept the invading fleet away before it reached the island's shores and thus the development of this secret child army was focused on its own people.

Bringing in professional ninja from the Iga and Koga provinces, the Shogun baptized the children in blood and death. These children, male and female, after years of brutal training, they would come to fruition as talented mercenaries, spies, scouts, and assassins. Legend states that before they were to be utilized, the Kamakura fell and a period of restoration occurred after the deaths of the ministers and the shogun himself happened simultaneously. When the Shogun was found, his body had been infested with Huntsman Spiders, an arachnid that does not spin webs but chases down prey and ravages it apart. Even more curiously, beneath the rafters where the body lay, numerous heads of elderly figures were piled, these had been the Iga and Koga hired to train the children.

Since that period, the outpost was forever to be known as the House of Spiders.

From this period on, this rogue faction had been in an almost continuous secret war against the Iga and the Koga, calling themselves the Kumo, the spiders. Although the Kumo had been a much smaller organization, its members had built a formidable fighting style that was to be the bane of their natural enemies. Unlike other ninja clans, who had developed their skills for utilization in the field, tactics developed to fight the armored samurai and assassinating diplomats, the Kumo on the other hand, did not become sellswords until well into the Edo period, some four hundred years after its establishment of its independence, thus focusing their skills on targeting other ninja.

Since its birth, the society had been shrouded in legends, one of which was its deadly ninjutsu style, Messatsukumo No Kinjite Ninjutsu, in the English language translated roughly as Murderous Spider Forbidden Hand Stealth Arts. Believed to be the most vicious martial art ever produced in Japan, it had been a bastardization of ninjutsu and various southern style kung fu styles from the mainland, where members had been sent to emigrate to Chinese provinces and returned with new methods of unarmed death dealing. As centuries past, this hybridized martial art evolved, with ninja traveling to distant lands only to learn new skills to be imported back into the House of Spiders' famed arsenal. While deemed heresy by the purist fashion of the sixteenth through nineteenth centuries, this constant evolution has produced many of the world's deadliest shinobi.

Also, unlike many other ninja guilds, because of its rather nefarious reputation in the House's home country, it would see a decline in membership after the seventeenth century. Thus, already allowing other fighting styles from other countries, the Jonin began to allow other nationalities into their ranks. This cosmopolitanism would be further beneficial after the end of the Edo period, as technologies in travel such as steamships and railroads began to develop, it dramatically expanded the House of Spiders market into Europe and eventually the New World. But, this day of expanded wealth and subsequently greedy Jonin, the wells of the House of Spiders was poisoned by westernized notions of wealth, gain, and imperialism.

Its members began targeting one another, preying on its own and during the events of World War Two, many Kumo would sell their swords and used against the Chinese and Allied forces in massacres and subsequently, other factions of the House of Spiders would target the forces of Japan, Germany, and Italy. A civil war broke out in the House forever known as the Red Week, where nearly eighty percent of the members had been murdered. It took the wisdom of an upstart Jonin, a man of Japanese and Chinese heritage to bring the remaining forces together and return to seclusion. The House of Spiders would no longer involve itself in world affairs and for nearly seventy years would shut its doors to mankind as a whole.

This period was to be called its formative years, where philosophy and martial skill would be the only directives of the House of Spiders. In effect, it would be the Renaissance of the Kumo, where the vastness of the treasury was spent on only allowing the organization to become entirely self-sufficient. It would generate its own power, harvest its own fields, produce its own goods and develop its collective martial prowess.

However, its mysticism makes it difficult to find, as the stronghold seems to vanish and reappear depending on the season and warriors long dead haunt its halls and mountain passes, rumors of black ninja magic and its Master and his lot are said to be more demon than man...only the bravest of souls dare venture to Mount Kobushi in hopes of gaining the secrets of Kumo no Ninpo.

The House of Spiders currently, has begun to seek new students from across the globe, in order for it to return to the greatness it once possessed.

死 OoC: 死

This, as noted, is primarily a training and mentorship thread for RPGers looking to gain experience, and if they wish guidance, in writing a ninja/swordsman/martial artist character. While these aspects do not necessarily have to be the defining features of a character, the power level of the account being used will be restricted to street-level to mid-tier. Any alignment is welcome, although killing an opponent is encouraged and the aesthetic of the compound is incredibly grim.

I will be open to training anyone who meets the basic requirement above and enthusiastic about becoming a better battler and writer geared towards the aforementioned style. As a mentor, I will be more than happy to aid you in building a strong biography and if needed, consultation on power selection, weapons, fighting styles etc. Ninja magic is well practiced, so even sorcerers/warlocks/wizards etc may find this place interesting for purposes of lore.

As a location, this place is open to almost everyone wanting some Eastern influences for their character, but please respect the thread and its purpose for training. However, this is also Tenjin's Base of Operations and although he may indeed call this home his existence is not known outside of tight circles.

• Following in the tradition of Gothic City, only street levelers and mid-tiers may post IC in this thread.
• No major destruction without my consent.
• The NPCs that make up this location are mostly ninjas of advanced ability and a sparse few are equivalent to Grandmasters, please sell accordingly.
• Tenjin has various secret chambers that are highly stygian and are unknown to even his followers.

Finally, have fun. (b~_^)b

死

Heeeeeeeeeeey, ninja monasteries in the mountains is *my* aesthetic!

Jk, this is great.

Tenjin is back and he hasn't called me yet?!

That's aight, I can wait...

Nice, good luck with this.

Very stylish. Shit's tight

@mourningsparrow: Hahaha you know, the Shaytan needs to come on down to Japan and demonstrate his skills against Tenjin now... :P

@thisisgonnahurt: LMAO

@apex_predator87: For sure my man.

@ali_sani_bashir:Thanks bro, good looking out.

@tenjin: Maybe after Impero, Gambler, and Dreadpool aren't trying to kill me lmao

@mourningsparrow: Word? lol Is this a thread or plot-line?

@tenjin: Plot, but the shits about to go down in the LoS thread.

@tenjin: Nice!

Maybe at some point I'll have someone to try and use here. I might use Jason but way too much is going on with him right now.

@tenjin:

Noice

Love it man.

Quietly waiting on Tenjin's ASMR YouTube channel

Hey hey!

Thanks for the support everyone!

@tenjin:

Gimme that ASMR video baby gurl.

@thisisgonnahurt: Not until you send me the goat and peanut butter video you promised me.

@tenjin:

I'll DM you bby.

Prepare for maximum lickage.

Oh, man, how did I miss this thread?

I'll be dropping by ASAP. This location is dope!

I come back after a long hiatus, and this is one of the first things I see.

Very nice.

"****, it's cold,"

The words were drowned out by the wind, as William Eldrik stumbled his way along the frozen path. Icy shards dangled from his beard, and snowfall continuously buffeted his body from all angles. Wincing, he trudged on, boots intended for snow use standing no chance against the depths of winter's floor. As he went, Eldrik's mind reflected on when he had heard of the House of Spiders, a monastery of martial arts that apparently lived in infamy among the underground. Some believed it to be a myth, others believed them all to be dead.

But others told him the Spiders still resided in the mountaintops of Japan.

And thus, he was there, in the harshest of climates, while his militarized jet was getting repaired by his advanced computer systems. Even as someone used to the snow, he shivered, and stumbled, falling to one knee and immediately regretting it- the ground was even colder. Standing back up, he leaned against the wall to the mountain, deep breaths growing shorter as the air started to thin out. Eldrik shook his head, and continued, legs still shaky as he did so.

Eventually, however, like a beacon in the darkness, the lights of the monastery made themselves seen throughout the gusty winter winds. Finally, he mused, as he walked onward. The Black Brynjar stepped forth, and took note of the quietness of the place. Quite simply walking up to the door, he knocked lightly- and, if open, gladly allowed himself inside, to avoid the cold. "Hello?" He called, his voice in a rasp. William repeated the call, this time in Japanese- whatever would find the attention of whoever was in charge of the place.

@william_eldrik:

An awful wind howled through the courtyard, the frigid fangs of winter bit through the onyx fabric of the shinobi guards, as the gust continued to pummel flesh, the sentinels of the House of Spiders stood like statues, motionless and soundless, watching as the vagabond entered through the enormous banded oaken door. An eerie creak echoed from the rusted hinges, amplified by the long snow-covered stone barricades, alerting the denizens that lurked within the confines of the mountaintop martial den.

The enormous main house was built with the traditional wooden framed paper walls, which in seconds of William entering the compound the front walls slid open in opposite directions. A number of faint red-orange lights emitted from inside its shadow ridden confines, the flames flickered and faded as the forms of dozens of ninja blockaded their dim glow. At the center of the mass of ninja, Tenjin stood wrapped in the thick fur pelt of an amur tiger functioning as a makeshift cloak, a sloping calabash pipe hanging from his lips.

His baritone voice projecting out, drowning out the sound of swords sliding out of scabbards. "Now, now, let's not be so hasty..." Addressing his companions and their apparent readiness for offensive maneuvers.

Hanzo walked down a small set of stairs, allowing the animal skin to drop limply behind him, revealing a brown tweed set of vest and trousers along with red and eggshell oxford beneath. His handmade English leather dress boots treading ever softly upon the snow while he produced a thick cloud of Balkan blend tobacco smoke out of the corner of his mouth before continuing, his Londoner accent strange in such a rural area of Land of the Rising Sun. "This lad must be knackered, arentcha ol' boy? Coming all this way up to die without a proper sendoff."

His head cocked quickly to the side then back again, motioning to William to follow suit as Hanzo pivoted on his heel and began to ascend the stairs before to speak again.

"I must say, if you planned on attack my sanctuary thenol' boy you sure are committed to deception...I feel compelled to throw a handful of quid and a Hail Mary. But, no one comes up my mountain just to beg, fortunately, so what do you seek?"

Tenjin's seemingly lightness of the matter at hand was normal in such a situation, because of his confidence he never truly felt threatened by anyone. Further, he need not test his foe for his competence, that would come later. As a matter of fact, William had proven himself already, traversing up the mountain and entering a facility with such a sinister reputation. An act worth a strong drink.

Before William could answer the Grim Ghost's inquiry, he asked another question.

"Fancy a dram? A warm fire and a brandy cures most ailments I say." Nodding his head in self-affirmation as he walked into the house and to all the mysteries the House of Spiders contained. His hands, large and scarred, beckoned the stranger on while his other clutched his calabash.

(Ohh swiss cheese, I really wanted to kill all these ninjas down to the last dozen D:)

死 A Purge Prelude:

Deep Within the Mountain...

A Hidden Chamber...

Not Long Ago...

A large dome-like room composed of most ancient stone was illuminated by a series of square holes in the rock face, filled with mirrors that directed moonlight where light was not meant to grace. It was a pale light, dust floating in great number in its pallid sheen. The smell, of moss and wet earth but also a putrid stench, not unlike death lingered in the air. A small island of smooth rock lay at its center connected to a series of slabs that acted as a ford to a wall that possessed no door of any kind. Upon this island, surrounded by abyssal black water and floating lotus of an even darker hue, stood Tenjin.

His kimono was emerald in color and adorned with golden embroidery, his dark hair far past his massive shoulders and his brilliant ruby eyes watching the surface of the water, as some portions rolled and swayed with strange movement before an eerie stillness, only to reappear somewhere else momentarily.

Something strange lurked within the black lotus fields, whose foliage was more ashen than green.

“I wish to consult you, Father...”

The water remained still. There was a chilling silence. The Grim Ghost could hear his heart as if it was thunder. Although, he possessed no fear. It was but a stable beat, that sounded like a war-drum in an ancient circle in a sacred grove.

“Our House grows stronger yet in the shadows we remain. Mother has given me mastery of many arts, I command shadow and blade but she has not given me direction, only a drive of restoration and glorious violence. I seek your guidance in this matter.”

Before the Grim Ghost, the water stirred and crest of bone broke the surface and slowly it rose, massive and regal was its appearance yet long dead as the skull of a great draconic snake emerged, nearly the size of the Savage Shinobi. Faded emerald scales hung sporadically, on its neck flowed large swathes of these buckler like scales commingled with exposed ribs larger than men. Black water dripped from a once majestic cobra-like hood, now composed of raw skeletal anatomy.

“You are the Lord of Spiders indeed, but you are also the Serpent’s Son.” The being projected, the water rippling in a small tremor as coils rose and fell in the water, its enormity hidden amongst the lotus. “Mother is ravenous, she delights in your prowess...but Father Naga knows you crave a crown. To be a Warlord. The Cult of Brahma seeks your aid, crush their enemies and in time your allegiance will prosperous. My Daimyo of the Dark.”

The slithering horror descended into the water, plunging into the depths of the unknown. Was it indeed this vile pool or was it merely the mind?

The silence offered itself once more.

What manifested here was a mystery, as Tenjin lifted a small, now empty, copper bowl, with the faint traces of crushed black petals of his surroundings and a substance with the uncanny resemblance of blood. He pondered, strange thoughts and set the bowl down on the ground before him before crossing the ford and he himself vanished into shadows, leaving the chamber behind.

For now.

Fin.

Still lit

@phantomshell: Thank you sir, nothing like creepy ninjas doing weird stuff in his house haha

Should be dope, gonna set up some wicked stuff soon.

Ooooh, I have an ENTIRE house of SPIDERS all to myself?! AWESOME! Wait..

It's a Ninja group...

Nuts...

All joking aside, and 2 years late, awesome job, Tenjin.

THE AMBROSIUS CYCLE; SAGA Ⅰ

Amidst the harsh snow and rugged cliffs, a sole figure trudged slowly through the nigh inhabitable terrain. To the wandering eye, he'd appear to be nothing more than a mountaineer, tackling the mighty mountain for the thrill alone. However, to the man known as Arthur, the precarious climb was not an act he derived joy from.

The concept that one should cherish the journey more than the destination was something he fundamentally disagreed with. All roads were at their core, a means to the end. To claim the journey was more valuable then the goal was to spit on the end you strived towards, an action that invalidated the need for the journey to exist. No. If one could no properly enjoy the dream they had bled and struggled for, then it was merely a sign they failed to dream big enough.

Perhaps it was this line of thinking that brought him to Mount Kobushi, tracking down a group that by all measures had faded into obscure legends. There were few in the world who knew their name, and of them even less could confirm their existence. They called themselves the Kumo, and they were said to reside within the House of Spiders.

They had made a name for themselves as assassins and sellswords, however, this was not the reason Arther sought them out. While he would eventually need forces and an army, that came later. If he was to ask others to lay down their lives for him, he must at the very least be prepared to do the same. This was a philosophy he took quite seriously, for a king to lead other, it had to be from the front lines. As such, it was imperative he mastered the use of Drakengard. Quite the struck of luck then that the Kumo had begun accepting an influx of students in recent years. So while their methods might be distasteful, their skill was undeniable.

Arthur was no stranger to the cold, nor was he a novice when it came to scaling rough terrain. His time hunting Michê in the Himalayans with Vorpal had guaranteed he'd be comfortable with trips such as this. However, even still, he was finding the journey to be quite...testing. With no clear location, he was almost wandering the mountains aimlessly, hoping to stumble across something. This alone would have made things difficult, but to make matters worse, on his back was a massive black case. Even under normal circumstances, it was difficult to carry around, however, the climbing and snow only exasperated the problem. Despite all this, Arthur merely gritted his teeth, dug his heels in a bit deeper, and kept moving.

Then, after what felt an eternity, he spotted something as he reached the top of a ridge. A compound nestled deep within the mountain ranges, with architecture matching what he would have expected. A bonified monastery.

Huh.

Weary, yet willing to take the risk, Arthur approached the citadel before doing what all courteous visitors did upon arriving. He knocked.

Badass

@ambrosius: will have the reply up soonish, as stated killer post bro

@musa_bashir: Right? Wicked sick first RP post

@tenjin: @musa_bashir: Thank you both, it was a lot of fun to write.

@tenjin: I'm redoing Jake Malcom this if you're back in going to join this

@darkchild: wicked drop something

@tenjin: about to

@ambrosius: @tenjin:

IT was not like Jake to sit so idle waiting for something to happen, but when you make a pact with an incredibly boring and slow moving creature as Tenjin you may find yourself at the very top of a mountain, on the tip of the tit in the middle of nowhere in the freezing cold for what seems like an eternity. Sure the random idiot decides to venture into the domain of such a Daimyo? "IS that what he was calling himself now? Ugh I have forgotten....bastard needs to die so I can be rid of him..." But not enough for Jake to feel satiated in his lust for more and more.

Tokyo Japan

IT had been a very quick five years since they first met, yet the man known as Tenjin kept his word, so long as he lives Jake would have a constant source of food, those who fell against his blade. What seemed like decades ago when Jake had fought a new batch of mutant Vampires and Lycans, who thought that they were tough enough to bring him to his knees. They were tough and nearly drained Jake of all his energy but he relied on his necroplasmic abilities to seal their fates. But with no bodies to drain after his acidic necroplasm worked its magic on their flesh he was too weak to fight his newest adversary.

Tenjin had made swift work of the weakened Alpha Vampire, nearly severing his head from his shoulders before Jake made his deal. "Allow me to continue in this life, and I shall give you the edge you need to accomplish anything you set forth to achieve."Jake spoke fast coming up with the quickest and easiest lie he could come up with to save his head just a moment longer, Tenjin not fooled simply chuckled and pressed his blade harder into the Vampires throat. Before he severed his head he stopped for a moment taking in the surrounding, that nearly 30 young vampires and lycans were felled by a single man, even if he currently was hanging on by the scraps of energy left inside he was a fighter, one who could prove to be something worth keeping close.

The blade dropped for only a fraction of a second and that's all Jake wanted, moving with speed unlike his kind he was now behind and biting distance before he felt the cold steel enter his ribcage. Tenjin was just one second faster than Jake, just as he closed his jaws on Tenjin's throat he was gone and reappearing behind the ancient Vampire, slicing clean and precise through his long dead skin.

The undead need not for life in the sense as many, but they do still feel the pain as anyone else could. The ache of the blade twisting and turning as Tenjin flicked the blade ever so slightly as he plunged it deep. Then with another mighty push he plunged the blade straight through and into the concrete on the other side of Jake's chest. Pinning him in place Tenjin simply chuckled speaking only softly to the fact that Jake could escape easily if he had the strength. A fact that burned deep within the old Vampires blood, he wanted to hiss and tear the mans throat out. But before he could even think another second, the blade was pulled crudely from his undead corpse, quickly cleaned against his wrist and sheathed.

Tenjin chuckled again and began to walk away before disappearing completely from sight, Jake laid there for a few moments pondering why he wasnt a pile of ashe and brimestone. An unfriendly friend burst from the ground next to him, the undead body of his old friend Ralph who spoke with a lewd tone "Looks like your bitch ass is finally someone else's bitch hahaahaha" a quick fist through the undeads skull shut him up soundly. But he knew the undead was at least partially truthful, someone such as Tenjin couldn't insult a person more than leaving them alive and in his debt like he just did.

Present

Watching from the shadows Jake saw that Tenjins most recent attempt at speaking with the dead came and gone. Speaking from the shadows in a thick Irish Brogue he mocked "You know there are much cleaner ways of speaking with the dead no? All you need to do is get on your knees like one of ye whores and beg me to raise whatever fool you need." knowing fully well Tenjin would hear yet not listen to his insults he continued "We also have a visitor, this time can you make sure this ones not diseased, I may not die from whatever humans have in their systems. But good lord does it itch....last one had gangrene and all mighty that was unpleasant."

@ambrosius: @jake_malcom:

The same large iron doors which Ambrosius rapped upon opened without assistance by neither man nor mechanics. In due time he would find that this monastery held many secrets, like a hellmouth it swallowed the wicked and in turn it spat forth demons from its ranks. Black sand covered the courtyard, pristine and zen-like but curiously even in the most driving snow and howling winds the sand remained uncovered and unmoved. Only in battle did it yield to forces. Paper walls and doors, dark oaked latticed, surrounded the courtyard and candleflames flickered behind them, casting haunting shadows and forms about them, in the theatre of the night.

The Lord of Spiders was such a shadow, his presence inside a major chamber seemed entirely unnatural, like a great oni against the translucent alabaster sliding doors. Ambrosius was beckoned by unheard whispers, such nightmarish noises that only the soul could hear. Prior to his arrival in its center, Katsuro listened to the Vampire’s taunt and request.

Turning his massive frame towards the cluster of shadows which the nosferatu resided, his musculature encased above in a bone white silk dress shirt and pallid fingers bejeweled with rings of precious stones, casting aside a gilded skull cap which struck the floor. Thus it spilled nefarious concoction which produced a stygian green smoke upon that to the acute of hearing, produced a low muffled scream. Tenjin was a mere dabbler in the necromantic arts, his obscure ninja magic alotted him base magical abilities, but he cared not for such practices in truth and was far more interested in placing bodies in the ground than raising them. However, this did not prevent him from seeking out assistance and as the Daimyo of the Dark, he would need an army and this fearsome creature before him provided such an answer.

His scarlet optics did not blink, he stared down a beast that made most men quiver whilst he nearly came chest to chest with the towering Strigoi, for these shadows belonged to him and his deathlessness was perhaps even more supernatural than Malcolm’s.

“The shades of this mountain have reported his presence since he began the ascent and in their night howls they speak of a great sword and a destiny...this Ambrosius may be useful.” How he came about his name, was another mystery which the black lotus have forewarned many moons ago. “If you wish to feed...”

Tenjin dug his nails into his palm and blood began to trickle from his massive fist onto the ground, his eyes still yet unblinking and the candles in the chamber motioned like turbulent souls. His blood was lethal, spoiled with a biological nerve agent by mutation and Katsuro found it humorous to taunt the monster back. “...then get on your knees and beg.”

For some seconds there was silence, what would seem like a lifetime, Tenjin turned around and made his way towards the exit, not before sounding to Jake “I will need your assistance with our guest momentarily...for now, there are three men in the barracks who lack what is necessary to become Kumo. Their sashes are white. Kill them and feast.”

He slid open the door and stared down the courtyard, his ebon hair billowed slightly in the alpine wind and turned his head towards the vampire again before leaving. “When I take Tokyo, I promise a slaughter and you shall find that the whole of Japan is not enough for my liking and many more will need to die. However, I do not trust you, if you betray me, I will butcher you and your ilk like farm animals and even Vampires will become afraid of the Dark...”

The Courtyard...

Several Seconds Later...

Tenjin marched forth towards Ambrosius, his cybernetic gaze gathered a multitude of information, cycling through facial recognition systems and scanned electromagnetic data from his vistor’s biology, his thermal vision attempted to breach the large black box on his back, to utilize the cold weather and the resulting interior temperature difference to confirm his suspicions on what the wandering warrior carried with him.

Tossing a matchstick from his mouth, his rings glistening in the dying daylight, he spoke. “Welcome to the House of Spiders, traveler...you may know but you will find only two things in my compound. Glory or Death.”

He watched his fellow swordsman with a hawk-like alertness as Katsuro made his way towards a long shadow cast down by one of many pillars and drove his hand into form as if it was water and pulled forth a longsword slowly, which strange webs of shadow constructs clung to it as it was unsheathed. A fearsome smirk was hidden behind his cascading locks “You will find that death is much easier to come by, here.”

Without warning, the Death Poet erupted from his position, now wielding a European style blade and dashed towards the Champion of Ash with an unknown intent, strafing like a fighter jet from the Scion’s western flank with inhuman speed at a great angle before launching a horizontal slash with a single arm at his foe’s torso in hopes of Ambrosius drawing his blade prior and compete with him in a match of swordplay. If his sword connected to another sword, the Red Eyed Fiend would instantly, stagger step back and to the right and whirl the blade with a steep angled two-handed blow from a high position down aiming to cleave the duelist’s face across the cheek.

Tenjin suppressed his great strength and stifled his speed of strikes as it was unknown to him his guest’s physicality. Merely testing his merit and right to wield such a blade as Drakengard.

@ambrosius: Alright my dude, welcome to your first battle on CV lol

I like to use basic geometry terms and shapes to describe what my character is doing in a battle, there are two references to angles in this post but I will go into more detail later on. If you read my posts in the Purge when I am fighting Quintus you will see this a lot especially with projectiles but in swordplay, I will do so here. You do not have to do this, but I find it is specific enough for the opponent to visualize what I am doing but doesn't require a google search for terminology.

@jake_malcom: @tenjin:

No later then seconds after he pulled his hand away from the looming metal doors of the monastery, did they begin to creak open and reveal the desolate temple that lay within. As he stood at the threshold of the compound, the Wahrer Herrscher began to question how apt of a term monastery really was. The title invoked a sense of spirituality and serenity, after all, it was supposed to be inhabited by holy men. Yet this... this was not that. It wore the facade of tranquility well, however it was little more than that, a guise. The way the shadows moved across the walls, the way they whispered. Beneath the calm exterior, he could feel something more sinister, a growing presence. Lurking just below the edge of perception.

Even as the doors lay open Arthur waited for a moment before entering, hesitant to step the yard straight away. He never thought of himself as a coward, however, he still couldn't help to find the temple before him to be quite unnerving. Nevertheless, he had come from quite a ways away, failing to enter simply wasn't an option anymore. So he braced himself and walked past the doorways and towards the courtyard.

Finally behind man-made walls and shielded from some of the harsh winds Arthur pulled down his neckwarmer, watching as his breath turned to steam. Scratching his beard the man began to look more closely at his surroundings. Now that he had entered the monastery proper he could more accurately decipher the faint calling he had felt from the door. It was urging him, telling him to come closer, to head deeper. As any sane man might be, he was hesitant, however, he had already decided to enter the abyss and there was no going back. The only exit now was to go through, to emerge stronger than when he came. So with a hardened resolve, he moved into the center and came face to face with the head of house.

As Tenjin approached The Kindled One, Arthur could feel the man's gaze probing him. However, he was unaware of how truly invasive the man's cybernetic stare really was. Every inch of him was probed, every aspect of his past would be effortlessly displayed, a proverbial open book. With the right scanning software, it wouldn't be difficult to deduce he bore no meta-natural gifts. His genetic makeup showed no signs of abnormality, nor did his muscle density appear any different than an average male. Ambrosius Pendragon was, undeniably, a mortal man.

However, when it came to scanning the box he carried with him, the results were less transparent. On the contrary, the case seemed unwilling to part with any information regarding what was stored within. Yet it could not stop the thermal scan from picking up on heat signatures radiating from the clasps on the case. Hinting at some degree of electronic security.

His eyes tracking the masked man before him, a small smile briefly danced across Arthur's lips as he began to realize the implications of the man's words. He had expected some sort of trial, and given the situation, initiation by combat fit the bill perfectly. So it was a good thing he'd come more than prepared.

Dropping his case to the floor with a loud slam he deftly entered eight digits into the lock, and as The Black Tiger reached into the shadows and unsheathed his blade, Arthur unveiled his. Bringing forth an ornate gold and lapis scabbard from the case, before he took a firm grasp of its hilt, withdrawing a glimmering silver blade with one strong pull. Drakengard, The Root of All Legends, in all of its glory. Even now, within the hands of a mere man, the blade seemed to exude power. Radiating but a fragment of the energy it contained.

"I've never been one to take the easy road. Today will be no different."

As the man rushed him, Arthur responded instinvtivly, adopting the left Ochs high guard in order to defend himself. When it came to longsword fencing Ochs guards had two primary forms. Left Ochs and right Ochs. Each had their own uses, however, both were primarily defensive tools. Taken up by holding the swords next to one's head with the blade slanted down towards one's opponent. No matter which form of Ochs one assumed, both required the right hand be placed closest to the hilt. Putting it in a position of strength in right Ochs, for powerful parries and counter-attacks, and in a more stable position in left Ochs, for guarding. They were simple guards, however, while somewhat limited, they offered consistency. Switching between the two was fluid and could be woven in between slashes with proper footwork, a style the Progeny of the Heroic Age gravitated towards.

Lacking in superior speed or strength, he tended to fight in a more traditionalist way. Forgoing feats of acrobatics to keep his focus on one thing, staying grounded. Losing balance against a strong foe meant death, as such he had to rely on two things. Simple yet consistent foot play, and the power of Drakengard.

Angling his blade down to block the first strike he felt the force of the blow flow through his blade and rattle his arms. His foe hit hard, very hard, and that was merely a one-handed slash. Taking the full brunt of an attack such as that would be disastrous, and frankly blocking it wasn't much better. Still, while the attack had pained him, he was still capable of fighting.

As his opponent flowed into a stronger diagonal chop, Arthur's right foot glid back as his sword crossed his body into right Ochs. He couldn't simply block the high strike like last time, he'd have to redirect it. To deflect the strike away from his head and in a safer direction. Using the side of his blade, he created a slope, one capable of guiding the oncoming attack away from his face. A long shhiiinnnkkk echoed throughout the courtyard, the unmistakable sound of two blades scraping against each other.

The purpose of the maneuver was two-fold. While he was foremost trying to defend himself, he couldn't simply react forever, winning meant he had to strike back. This was where the second purpose came into play, using the power of the man's attack to do half his work for him. By putting pressure onto his sword and forcing it back with such a powerful strike, it set up the conditions for a perfect counterattack. With luck, his deflection would had worked and his opponent's sword would be too out of position to gaurd. Along with that, Arthur's blade was already cocked back and ready to strike. So with one strong twist of his right wrist and the pull of his left hand, he swung Drakengard down diagonally. With the intent to leave his blade wedged inside of his opponent's shoulder with a sickening crunch.

@tenjin: @ambrosius: duuude awesome. I'll add Jake post here soon

Death and Dusklight: The Aftermath

Several Hours After The Battle...

The Reliquary...

Far Beneath The Known...

_______________

______

Deep in the bowels of Mount Kobushi, where daylight never dwelt, Katsuro, burned and broken, wandered in contemplation. Amongst him, statuesque and posed, were numerous skeletons adorned in gilded armor and bejeweled with precious stones alight only through dim candles. A large geometric ruby mounted in each eye socket stared grimly into the distance. Their posture was various but bound together in a collective regalness found in some manner of false sainthood. Tenjin walked towards an empty throne, belabored by a shattered leg, running his fingers across the columns on which every skeleton stood. Awaiting him, several robed figures flanked the seat of power. Braziers alight, casting strange shadows in the otherwise grim darkness, shown the cultists kneel as the Daimyo of the Dark began the ascent towards the throne, his path marked by great crimson silk.

A chant, once nigh silent began to grow louder, yet not uniform as several ancient languages poured from the masked mouths of the berobed toward their master.

“Darkness Never Dies.” was their mutual translation.

Taking his throne, Katsuro pressed his back upon the obsidian rise, a pallid face now severely burned spoke through a lipless mouth. “...another glorious death.”

Thus, his head hung limp, once scarlet eyes ablaze slowly faded into nothingness.

Yet, several meters away, something stirred.

A large tomb, carved with not ancient runes or hieroglyphs but of cascading red digital code, a formation encompassing the lid blossomed like a flower in a spiral of mechanized movements. What resulted was as enigmatic as the lore of the Lord of Ebon Lotus would suggest.

From a sarcophagus, hidden beneath the likeness of blood did rise a figure with skin of alabaster. Clinging to his form, a series of tubes and face encased in a breathing apparatus, the red liquid falling from his muscular frame as he stood waist-deep still. A waterfall of black hair draped his shoulders, he turned his head slowly to gaze over to the throne and the figures who surrounded it. Only to slowly pull the futuristic mask from his face to draw his first natural breath in the stale crypt air.

“Lord Tenjin...” One announced as he approached the tomb bearing a black silken kimono honorifically. “We await your orders.”

Removing the tubes from his vascular system, he emerged from the tomb with hydraulic steps descending in order from the floor, only to disappear as he wrapped himself in the kimono; dwarfing the cultist in his Herculean massiveness.

“It would seem I underestimated my prey, a combined front proved worthy. Their use of explosives at such a level was unexpected, a beautiful display of carnage.” Peering over to the cultists again, a fearsome smile on his face, watching them nod in a venerable agreeance.

The newly risen Grim Ghost now made his way to the sable throne, to gaze upon the body he once inhabited or something far more mysterious and beyond understanding. A still wet hand caressed the charred head in apparent devotion. All his memories shared, Tenjin reflected on the battle hours ago, delighting in his newfound revenge. Quintus, William and Natsya, he repeated over in his head.

He now conspired their doom; a pact of blood and death was between them.

“Prepare the ceremony; consecrate this body and hoist it to dwell for eternity amongst the others...a glorious death deserves the Great Rite.” His voice boomed like thunder, echoing throughout the labyrinth, filled with his former selves.

“Darkness never dies” was repeated in the various languages.

"Alert my emissaries, send forth word to the Raysh that I will pay him a fairly diplomatic visit...We have much to discuss. The Black Matrix beckons haste."

The Reliquary, as it was deemed, held secrets of his fearsome resurrection and only to birth further obscurity into the matter that was the Shadow Eater; Katsuro Hanzo Yamamoto.

"I heard a rumor. A rumor that the deadly Spider of Cybertron had failed."

@raysh_al_shaytan: "Failure is a matter of perspective, Arashikage. My foes succeeded in braving a strong wind, but the tempest has not yet descended upon them. It is only a matter of time before all are consumed in the storm of steel and death."

@tenjin: Wait, are you also Akira Overdrive?

@cutthroatbitch: No, he is just a good friend of mine and we interwove a lot of stuff from our main characters. Kinda preserving his legacy in a way even with my sparse activity. I have bugged him before about coming back for a big event we had in the works recently.

In canon, but never announced publicly, for example, Akira and Tenjin were half-brothers and he builds Tenjin's armor and weaponry.

@tenjin: Okay. My alt sense wasn't always good so I thought that one slipped by me just because you guys were around before I refined it, but I understand that. I was designated LL's spiritual successor should she ever disappear or quit, but even before then I was always paying homage in some way, trying to "be her living legacy." (I like to think I'm a bit more independent now so that's not all I am, but it's still there in some capacity.)

I like the lore-building. Character-centric arcs, detailed interpersonal connections, things like that have always been among my favourite to think about and play with. Probably the best way to get the gears turning.

@cutthroatbitch: No problem at all, honestly Akira and I have similar inspirations and style of writing; very action-oriented, and we have been mistaken for the same person many times. So you are definitely not the first. I see no issues with "living legacy" especially if the User had a profound impact on your character and especially your writing. I think its amazing to see a line of writers paying homage to those 'before' them. We all carve out our own identities and style but it's still present within us for sure.

Akira, Uchiha NeVann and Gambler (especially in the LAS Prime days) are very evident in my writing and Risky was always my biggest fan (and vice-versa). Building the lore behind it is what makes them, when they are inactive, in some ways immortal. It marks a chronology and surely inspires creative inspiration.

I love this conversation.