Three Brothers Unite

[Adam]

(Though the site has not official started, these posts build the background for us three joining Zen, so in a way it is an extended version of peoples palace posts which have already started happening, I hope you do not mind admins )

The great city of Hong Nong... capture it's beauty and you shall soon find a place for it within your heart. It was at this great city that three great warriors will soon meet, the gentle hills which lay outside the city, brushed off into hostile forests, where bandits and thugs made every second survival of your life and the very place our heros shall meet.

Fear would be any normal man's failure to pass these harsh woods, yet Nastyr had none, he was a powerfully built man, his muscles finely tuned to the hardships of war, yet he was not as bulky, as to prohibit his agilitiy, both agile and fierce he was a most deadly of fighters.

He begun to pick up speed through the dense jungle like conditions, a strange figure stalked him like no other, he was not running in fear, more so running to find an opening in the forest to fight on equal terms. Struggling to move he persevered, the branches whiping him in the face, the roots of trees nearly tripping him over several times. The darkness was making it hard to even see what was infront of him, the full moon beemed what little light it had into the conopy of the woodland, having little affect but to attract insects which begun to attack Nastyr.

The darkened figure continued to follow along at the same pace, it was like some sort of game, and Nastyr was the focus of it, he was the king of these lands, yet he was now check-mate by some eerie presence which made anyone has goosebumps.

Suddenly the dark figure was in sight as Nastyr turned to look behind, the running warrior grinned and picked up a large rock from the floor, and begun to run backwards, hurling the rock at the figure, it was a direct hit, but seemed not to halt, or even hurt the being, as if he was immune to pain, now he seemed angry, and it's pace increased. Nastyr turned around back to his frontal view, and increased his jog to a sprint.

The sweat dripping, his legs ached, his head was beating causing him to feel a slight dizzyness. However he was used to long distance running, and begun to remember his training, focusing on his technique, it seemed like the pain had dissapeared, and the gap increased for the first time in the cat and mouse chase.

A dim light could be seen in the distance, as te ground became more runnable, it must have been some sort of lumberjack pathway, because the grass was totally worn away, all that was left was a pure dirt path, and an opening of trees. Nastyr saw this and focused on it, making sure he could make it. It was like a distant star, beconing him to reach it, yet the time he ran from now on seemed to take much longer, as if he was in slow motion, the gap was slowly, but surely closing in as he reached his target.

With a blast of speed, Nastyr had ran through the opening into the open grass plain, he turned around and peered into the opening, awaiting his opponent, his hands on his sabers, ready for anything. He slowly began to bring his breath back in an attempt to match his foe.

[arktivilist]

It was late by the time he had chased his opponent into the opening peeks, the vargite stone work mostly consisting of dead and dry culmac branches which there seemed to be an unusual amount of around the Zenian Provinces covered the fields of which he led them to, he began the short walk towards the enclosed space and then un capped his holster in preparation for what was to transpire.

The campfire was out of sight, but even in the dark woods he remembered exactly which direction to go, was he to fail that is. A gloomy mist then arose around him as he walked. Knowing that this was not the appropriate location and time of year for an evening fog Arktivilist became immediately alarmed to the situation. And by quickening his pace he was only brought deeper into the ever-thickening haze. His joy increased with the concern of the moment.

A violent fury suddenly split the air before him with purple lightning, which stayed there continuing to electrify the air in front of him, rather than disappearing the way that any natural phenomenon should. Arktivilist dropped his bundle of sticks, that he had used to mark this territory with, and desperately sought the merger security of his hatchet. The mist swirled around him in a sudden twister, as the energy before him danced and coalesced, growing larger and more intense by the moment.

Being the son of Baalice, one of the world’s mightiest wizards, the dark knight had seen enough of sorcery in his lifetime to suspect that he was in grave peril. He knew his axe would prove little guard against magic, so he backed away cautiously. He didn’t know how or why this supernatural display had found him, but he did know how to use it to his advantage, so he drew his sword and proceeded through the mist.

Then as if from across a great divide, he heard his name. “Arktivilist!” The voice was desperate, anxious and afraid. Startled, he looked back. The dark energy had grown
And separated, wreathing what looked to Arktivilist's inexpert eye to be a portal to some far off place. Beyond was a murky realm outlined in crumbled buildings and a blood red sky.

He heard his name again, seemingly much closer this time. “Arktivilist!” It was a woman’s voice, he was certain, this time the elated relief was overwhelming. A shape took form within the portal, and the energy whipped to a frenzied climax in a brilliant flash of light.

Arktivilist rubbed his demonic shaped eyes to adjust them to the enveloping darkness. The lightning was gone, as was the portal and even most of the mist. Two words seemed to hang in the darkness though, uttered by a voice he had never heard before, “Good luck.” There was no other sign left of what had just transpired.

Perplexed, he replaced the axe in the belt holster behind his back, and turned back to the opening peek. The haze had floated out, arching back and forth before stationing to the opening peek, where both he and his opponent would stand; now knowing that he was now in no danger Arktivilist began his move against his opponent.

He stood just beyond the moon's watchful gaze, his eyes now adjusting yet again to fix upon the opponent in front of him. He was surrounded by shrub and bush, which somehow crossed with the culmac leaves that shattered over the rigid landscapes, his opponent had stopped.

This act alone stated a simple fact, and that fact wa snone other then his opponent thinking he could match, or even beat him. how niave this man was, and how foolish.

His blade remained firm within his grasps as he proceeded, a dark hood out lined with metal shards covered his face. From an observer's point of view, Arktivilist was nothing more then a demon. Cloaked in a dark hood that would reveal his darkened nature. His eyes were hidden in a metal helmet as well, his face, his nose, all consumed with in the wraith that he had undone so long ago.

He was the son of a powerful man, but unlike his father, who fought to be rid of the chaos, he fought to instead entice it, and form a newer power of evil, that he'd use to destroy anything he desired. He cared little for Zen, or for the other kingdoms, it was him, and then the others, none could match him, and those who had tried had died by his darkened state.

The air that he broth turned into a blue mist that evaportated the heat from his body, it was a cold feeling, but then again, he was cold.

"And so the cat chases the mouse." His words were taunting, a harder edge spitting like a machine gun as it split through the open air before him, his words were bitter with his dark tongue, he was ready, and his opponent would soon realise it.

"For far to long, people of minute strength have plagued what we call this land, little do they know of its original creation? You believe in nothing but the blade, how fortunate my father was one to go by such theories. I see you’re a man of a darkened past, though it matters little to me, you have been chosen friend, you have been chosen to have fate cast an eye upon you, we will see just how powerful these gods are, for none have passed by test as of yet."

With his words also came the cruel realization of his movements, he had drawn forth into what little light the moon would cast upon him. From his stature, he was a tall man, with a black robe that clung to his body as if to act as skin. His hands were not that of leather, or glove, but of a gauntlet. A mass of metal shards strung together, it made him appear, demonic, if nothing else.

His large blade drew out, there would be two, one holstered to each of his hips, yet nothing was revealed, not even the scabbard of his mighty swords. Strung to his back was a bow, coiled neatly by an axe hatchet. He had many weapons for his hunts, yet never needed to use more then one.

[Adam]

Hunted like a rabbit Nastyr awaited his opponent, knowing he was more than able to match or even beat him. No one would have thought that Nastyr would have ran this far, he was a man who did not fear, he more so just fought for his life and for his desire for might. Nastyr had cut down some of the finest warriors of this land, and so why should he fear this man, he was like the rest, soon he would be dead along with the others.

With his sabers in hand Nastyr kept a keen eye on his opponents every movement, scanning his full body armour to look for a weakness, he could see none to the nacked eye, but remembered that most armour was weak at the neck because of movement the warrior needed. He smirked ever so slightly and looked at his blades, they shined in the moonlight like no others, what little armour Nastyr had on also shined an elegant white from the small globe of light which gave the only median of sight in the area.

He gripped on his right blade as while he was staring out his opponent, the man seemed strong, yet Nastyr was young and full of energy, his speed would be the key. After thinking about his move, and thinking of how his opponent would most likely react due to encounters with other fighters, he began to pace forward into a sprint.

His left blade was kept close to his body to be sure he had some sort of defence if his attack was to fail, which he believed was unlikely, his right blade was brought forth, ready for that potentially damaging hit.

As Nastyr ran, he got to striking range from his enemy, a quick glide left to right, with his formentioned blade, aimed for the right side of the man's neck. He launched off the ground to reach such a height, he almost glided with the wind, as he seemed to with relative ease get the height needed, while barely moving any part fo his body but his legs.

He waited to see what his opponent would do to block this, he looked an idiot, and so Nastyr did not believe he was worth much, he would soon perish like so many others, a pool of blood would soon remain, his limp corpse lodged in the ground, rotting away, and eaten by rodents, a fitting end for someone so full of himself. He would soon learn not to cross Nastyr's path.

The weather begun to pick up, as Nastyr attacked, mixing his own blend of emotion into the proceedings, as if to show he was not the only one with small party tricks. He was no fool to see when something was a trick, this mist was no doubt a natural forming, and he cared little for it, all that mattered was his enemies head on a pike.

Nastyr could now only hope his opponent was not one of quick reflexes, his attack left him open, yet if successful would be a most crushing of blows, as he was in mid-jump, his body came more vertical, as if he was a human missile, the blade still aimed, yet it seemed he planned on slashing and ending up the other side of the man's body for an even more crushing blow...

[arktivilist]

Arktivilist stood as the proceedings extended, his eye never leaving that of Nastyr's stature for even a concise second. He watched in wait, his body still obscured within the murky robes that clung freely to his cadaver. He was ready, for both the inevitable and the inadaptable, there was no way Nastyr could match his brute strength, and he knew this. His colder nature hinted at his demonic bearing, he was not waiting aimlessly for nothing, but instead he was waiting for the correct time to reveal his inner demon, and his inner strength.

Nothing but the blustery weather spoke as the two settled their moments with a battle of wits, the deeds needed not verbalize, for no movements needed to be cast. Only silence was forth coming, saved for the cries that the condemned would soon sacrifice, the blood of both the victor and the loser would go to the hellish plains beneath them, whilst the spirits of their blades would fill the heavens they equally breathed, this battle wasn't about wrong or right, nor was it about winning or losing, it was about the ability to adapt, and the ability to seek and destroy.

Nastyr had done everything expected of him, for such a young man, his movements were extraordinary, little did he know that Arktivilist to had begun though, so he attacked regardless, still, Arktivilist would have done the same, was he in the mans position. The winds shifted again though, coming to him from the north, and to the position of his opponent, almost hinting at his opponent's demonic strength, which surprised Arktivilist even though he was ready for the deflection.

And then as if from somewhere across a great divine, a voice echoed throughout him, it repeated the words he had heard earlier, "good luck." The voice lingered behind him, before leaving his side. The entire time, Nastyr had advanced to that of his elevation, an attack was soon to come, and for Arktivilist, it was soon the time to act.

Nastyr had dashed, his head arched right and then left to follow that of his opponents, before springing into the air to connect his Ariel stab, a smile was wanted, yet little did it come.

Any normal fighter would have countered with a dash left and a swing, it would have struck his opponent, but Arktivilist wouldn't, he was too eager to see the man's face rip open before his very eyes. So he stopped, he cared little for whatever move was to transpire. It wouldn't hit, nothing ever did.

His legs slid back in a quick dash, the blade now just reaching out to begin the attack, with his left hand, he swirled his blade in a horizontal/vertical manner, to that of bottom right to top left. His had put little strength into it, but the weight and swing would carry a momentum powerful enough to force back his opponent.

And then with his right hand, he pursued for a counter, he had moved back originally, but after his deflection his right foot drew forward, to move forward his momentum. His right shoulder swung out with his hand, the blade was aiming directly for Nastyr's chest.

[Adam]

Nastyr was certain he was to cut the man down with one single swipe of his eager blade, for fortune shined bright upon him, long he has built up his powers, and too he also had a dark side much like his foe.

Nastyr however did not expect that his opponent would be so ready, he was at first worried that a simple slash would destroy his hopes of victory, but what shocked him more was that his opponent did not do this, he obviously was a perfectionist, wanting that perfect kill, nothing too easy, and nothing too simple.

Soon to follow was the single strike which put Nastyr in his place. His attacking right blade was hit by the being's own left blade, with much more force and velocity than the aerial attack from Nastyr, he was sent backwards from his previous gliding direction.

It struck, the impact of the attack instantly stopping the man, and sending him into the opposite direction. It was like he was traveling in a backwards time zone, his very attack was being mimicked but in reverse, the same angle he took off from was the same angle he fell, and the place he landed, was the very area he took off from.

Nastyr landed, face down on the ground, and instantly knew what any normal fighter would do, and that was to strike the vulnerable fighter. Nastyr turned to look up, and saw the glint of metal from the moon, and without question brought his right blade up, momentarily dropping his left so that he could concentrate on this block which would soon result in his life being saved.

The blade hit with the utmost force, the weight from the blade made it difficult even with two hands, but he held it back from his chest, it was only a few centimeters away, but he could not let it get him. Sweat begun dripping off Nastyr's face as he concentrated, his muscular endurance now the final factor in life or death of this man. A gruesome deadlock of two great warrior...

[arktivilist]

And so it began, from what was but a moments waiting to now a deadlock of gallantry. Arktivilist had red the battle, but he would not take advantage of it so soon, instead he allowed his blade to collide instantaneously, sparks tearing open the fine brass that covered the swords, a dint appeared on his blade, it was small, but noticeable to the naked eye, he wondered when he'd get time to repair it.

His opponent was in every disadvantage known to man, he was lowered, both hands open in hopes of deflection, a mere counter action of his sword, followed with a swing from his left blade would end the duel, but then again, just like before, he would wait his turn, a perfect kill was how he fought, and nothing less.

His wrist twisted from a firm lock, the agile bone bending to snap the sword into a new direction, it was pointing from top left to bottom right, but the flick he had caused reversed it, his blade now very much pointing to the top right.

With the flick, the two blades had collided again and recoiled their actions, he had a perfect opportunity, whilst his opponent recovered to attack, but he didn't, he merely took a large leap backwards, flailing both of his swords in front of him, as if to almost dance his withdrawal.

His body was soon consumed by his darkened nature, the black robes scaling rapidly over his body, he stood, head down, arms straight, blades concealed. He was a dark omen, Nastyr would soon know that he alone could not repel or beat this fierce general.

"You cannot beat me fool, so why and stop the inevitable."

With his words also came the cruel realization of fate itself, Nastyr couldn't have won, even if he had tried his best, it was as if Arktivilist knew his every move, and was always a good three steps in front, every attack Nastyr would act on, Arktivilist would counter with one better.

This was a fight between a tiger and a deer, there was but one victor, and that would be Arktivilist.

[[Ok, time for Reaper to introduce himself, so the posting order from this point onwards is

Reaper
Nastyr
Arktivilist

I have no idea how many bouts it'll be until I can successfully repel you both; I guess I'll have to put in an extra hand in description to win me the advantage]]

[Reaper]

The encampent was brewing with movement as the soldiers of Nastyrs we're all laughing and walking around the camp that was set up. Reaper's men on the other hand where all grooming there horses and making sure there was nothing wrong with them. The commander seeing this smiled slightly as he looked around the camp from the main tent in the center of the encampment.

Yet, as he looked around he noticed one thing that quickly made his mood dark, "Damn, i believe my little brother will be the death of me" where the words that Reaper mumbled under his breath as he let out a sigh of frustration. As he let out the sigh he turned to his right and started taking a few steps before coming across a soldier that was under the banner of his brother.

(i'll finish it when i come on , and anyways i was arsed to do this xD)

[Adam]

(Me and Steve are carrying on Reaper you can join in at a later stage when you feel like rping)

Nastyr was still on the ground, glad he still had his life intact. He watched the large man jump backwards through the air and land on a post not too far away from Nastyr's current position.

Nastyr sighed, his annoyance showing, he could not seem to get an edge over this foe, something he had never witnessed in his life before. He put his hands on the ground and pushed as hard as he could, bringing his full body mass to a vertical stand still. He quickly grabbed his previously dropped saber, holding it with a firm grip, as he did with the other sharp weapon.

He looked at his enemy once more, a stern stare of anger showing, no longer was he worried about this match, his personality came back quickly, as he showed his enemy he was not about to run away, he was a warrior through and through, and like every man, he had a weakness, but where could not be seen. Nastyr was a believer that speed and agility were far superior than brute defence, but he was rapidly being proven wrong...

He begun to tap his right foot as he concentrated on a fighting plan, regular beats of about half a second inbetween like a professional drummer. He then realised something, his armour moved rather well for the bulk fo it, meaning that at the joints, their must be a weaker part, such a rope or some other light material to keep it together but to allow movement, even if their was nothing it would mean their was a place to get his blade into.

Nastyr turned his body slightly to the left, his blades out, his head still facing him. He waited for his enemy this time, nastyr's confidence showing once more. He now knew he could win this, no man was immortal, and no man was undefeatable.

(not my best post, but I attacked last time, and defence would be good for my character right now, anyway lets me see your attack skills, not just your counter attack skills )

[arktivilist]

Why

The question remained, lingering upon his worn helmet over the ages. It was rusty, yet still had a certain elegant finish that made it look as if to be royalty, Arktivilist wasn't any normal man, but nor was he any god either. He was a simple killer, who thrived of those he killed, and craved for those he didn't.

There would be no ending to his tyranny, not until the day someone of superior strength can match or even beat him, still, he thought this as an unlikely option, for one, he had taken far to many lives to have submitted to anybody, and secondly, he was abnormal in the terms of skill, he wouldn't just train, he used not wooden blades to help him. It started with the defiance of his own family, and his own blood.

His father was a competent fighter, who had claimed more kills in the lands then any other, he was finally defeated, but not killed, he was spared, sadly enough. His death had always been of unknown reasoning, but Arktivilist knew how he'd died, for it was he who had killed him.

He was even cold hearted enough to stand beside his little brother Nastyr, and watch as the events of tears unfolded, he shared none, probably out of spite. After that day he left, and had his brother trained under a master of martial arts. He however, left, in hopes of finding a cure for his chaotic behaviour.

It hadn't worked, over the years he fount himself defying more and more people, and now he stood with a blade engraved in a term of defiance. He had slain his father and had robbed his sword, the sword of Nerul.

His opponent arched to the left, Arktivilist spotted it with only mild interest, before thinking back on the old days, he was confused, still.

Nothing could help him un do what he had done, all that he could remember now was his brother who he had left for dead, and together, help bring back the virtue that there once was before he destroyed it. He knew that once justice was claimed, he'd have to remove himself permanently, to stop himself bringing forth a new form of chaos.

His opponent had regained any lost footage, as had he. He stood with an amused expression, Arktivilist noted on it, yet pursued no further on the matter, feared that even this new opponent wouldn't fear him any more then he did himself.

His brought out his sword, his robe pulling out only to then get sucked back into the shadowing darkness of his nature, the blue icy mist that exhaled through his helmet shattered and split, before binding with that of nature.

He drew his left leg forward, and then his right, taking steady steps, there was no reason to tire himself so soon, his opponent was nothing to fear, and he knew this, if nothing else.

His opponent's body was set, firm and in position. There was nothing special about his stance, with both hands fixed on his swords, Arktivilist began his move.

His alignment to his opponent shifted to his opponent's right, before dashing quickly to shorten the gap between the two. With Nastyr slightly facing his own left, Arktivilist had a more open range to Nastyr's back.

He was foolish not to exploit it, so with a swift strike from top left to bottom right, Arktivilist forced across his left blade, whilst holding his right hand close to his chest, so that he could repel any sudden movements of his opponent.

[Adam]

(Not my best dude, but my first post back to this, so it wouldn't have been my best anyway)

His opponent was indeed a great warrior, even the slightesy move seemed to be more than Nastyr could handle. Nastyr had turned his body at an angle, under-estimating his opponent once more, a foolish thing to do by any means.

Arktivilist came forth, steady pacing decreasing the distance between the two firey men. Eventually he was close, and Nastyr instantly knew what he was looking for. Nastyr had his back open for attack and without thought he corrected this before it was too late. A quick spin on the spot and he was facing an incoming blade from his enemy.

Nastyr had no choice but to block it, reaching out he put his two blades in an X sory of shape, the pressure from the blade causing him to go to his knees. The enemies blade rested dangerously close to Nastyr's face as his right knee touched the ground, and his arms nearly buckled under the weight of the weapon and the man's pressure.

He now looked worried, all it took was a quick swipe at Nastyr's neck, and he was gone, dead, faded into history. Such a waste of a life, if he was to die, he would atleast want to know the man's name he was to be killed by.

"Warrior of darkness, please, if I am to die here, at least tell me your name..."

Nastyr waited for an answer, hoping he would answer, and not decide just to slaughter him here and now...

[arktivilist]

Arktivilist, the man whom had hunted the pathetic warrior, stood firm with but an inch parting his blade from the victims neck. All he would need now is to pursue the force his body would grant him, but his opponent questioned him, sadly, Arktivilist held the pressure to a stalemate, so that an answer could be given.

His legs parted, his right arm now reinforcing it even more, he would reply, barely, but he would also attack, and tragically, this victim would die, how niave he was to have fought him, shouldn't the world fear his name by now, how he yearned for such prowess.

"Me." his voice darkened ever so slightly, the hood revealing nothing but a dim glow into the reazilation of his own defeat, Nastyr could do nothing to prevent it, his own life now rested within Arktivilist clutches.

"I am Arktivilist." his words spat eagerly, his arm pressing forth even more, the blade buckled and slid forth, its tip sliding up the X shaped defence to the crest of his opponents neck, it tucked it gently, cutting, yet not piercing the skin.

Arktivilist held the motion, awaiting his opponents final plea, it would be interesting to see what he could make of the situation.

[Adam]

Nastyr's eyes opened in deadly realisation of why he could not kill this man, it must have been something about him, the voice or the height, but he knew who it was, somehow, he just knew it, ever since they were fighting. Nastyr then heard the words "Arkivilist..." it echoed though his head like a broken record.

The blade came to his neck, and begun to cut into him, a small contraction of his neck muscles from the pain and then he realised what he must do to survive. He instantly spurted out who he was in hope that his brother may stop the onslaught and they may once again be united.

"My Name is NASTYR! Brother Stop!"

He said it with delight but also worry of how his evil engulphed brother may react, unsure if he was still totally there, it had been a long time, he just hoped he still had the same love for his family as he once had.

"Arktivilist, do not kill me, I am Nastyr... it has been some time... you are quite the fighter..."

[arktivilist]

Arktivilist felt nothing as the words curged through him, but then as the blade connected more, just tickling the viens without actually cutting them his arm forced backwards. as if something magical had sparked within his darkened presence, he stood emotionless, his own head now dipping bacv into the shadows.

"N....Nastyr."

The once reknown darkness of his tone whelped away into nothing more then a high picthed squal, his face was still hidden, but the noise the large man was creating was as if the demon inside of him was indeed being re newed.

"It can't be." his blade rose, a surge of anger rushing through as his fathers memories plumetted through his blemished face.

"My family are DEAD!!" the blade buckled from his stance and drove through the air, the fight with in him wa snot all but lost, his arm managed to divert the blade away as his body came crashing down, Nastyr's own sword now thrusting its way through his rib cage.

The lade clit and broke one of his ribs, yet buckled and then lodged into one of his other ribs, the dark figure fell to the side, even through the emotions, his face remained nothing more but a dark essence of mist, showing nothing but the glow of two red eyes.

His father had done the same damage but worse, it had been him who had ruined him, and had formed this ocne pure man into a raging murderor, today he prayed to die by his own brother.

"Nastyr, i cannot control myself like i once did." he spoke weakly, lieing flat on the floor, his hand now using the end of the handle to his blade as support, "I cannot grant you protection, and for hat i have failed...surely....if nothing is left inside me that you once knew, then finish me off now...i cannot control myself, and killing you will only firthern my dark rampage...."