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originally posted in:The New Dojo
11/4/2016 4:48:48 AM
12
[spoiler]Just a brief forward, This is going to be shit. It's literally been over a year since I've RP'd. Please be patient until I can brush the rust off.[/spoiler]
[b]Paradisus Paradoxum[/b]
[i]Clad in a cloak of wolf and crow, a figure strode towards the dojo each step seemingly with more purpose than the last. Nearing the entrance however, they faltered. This place was only a shadow of what it once was, ruins of what it had been in it's prime. This had once been paradise to them and the others. Except, not to them but to the man in their head. They hadn't been here, the man had. The man was dead, but still his thoughts invaded the figure who had no memory of their own. They knew the figure and his flaming shadow had no right to exist, the two had been burnt away.
Ever closer to the dojo the figure walked, reaching down to grasp the metaba autorevolver strapped to their hip. They shouldn't be here, they had no memory of this place, yet the man in their mind showed every detail in an almost horrifying realism. Shaking the thoughts of the man and his shadow out of their mind the figure came to a stop before the entrance of the dojo, grip tighter than ever on the mateba as they waited for entrance.[/i]
[spoiler]Open[/spoiler]
English
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[i] The Dojo gates were a wonderful display of ornateness and intricacy, and doing a spectacular job of symbolizing..well..gate things. The massive structures practically beckoned to be opened to see what was on the inside..but that's not what was peculiar. What was peculiar, was the man standing by the gates.. The man stood tall, at about 6'2", clad in a form fitting, pitch black armor. The metal over his form was glossy, having no markings or signs it had ever even seen battle. It was Almost assassin in nature. On the breastplate of the armor, a yin-yang symbol over crossed swords sits. That was the blatant symbol, but a less conspicuous one, was a blood red, coiled cobra on his shoulder, ready to strike. At the man's hip lie three katanas, all with the vibe of mystery and an enigmatic feel..hell, they looked like the kind of swords that needed to be sheathed so they didn't cut the air. The first was a vibrant white and gold; quite the contrast to his dark attire. It seemed to gleam, even in areas of low light. The second blade was more at home and looked like it belonged, being completely and utterly black. No..black would imply color. This was the epitome of shadow. It seemed to want to devour the light of its brother blade.. completely Devoid of light and color. The third and final blade was rather drab compared to the other two, a dull, olive green. Though, the pommel is in the shape of an oriental dragon head. One of the more peculiar and downright unnerving things about the man was the mask he wore. A traditional Japanese Oni demon mask; made of contorted and twisted black metal, with sprouting horns. Where his eyes would be, the mask had coal black abysses that lacked any content. From the few steps he took, it was clear He carried himself with self-assurance and dominion. His very presence emanated unparalleled power, in an almost elegant sort of way. Every movement maximizes efficiency..if Death was graceful, this man was his living incarnate. https://imgur.com/a/MiiYp https://imgur.com/a/CdM6F https://imgur.com/a/SXcJq[/i]
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[b]The figure stares towards the armored man before looking away, clearly unfazed by his looks. They took a couple steps towards the entrance before stopping, not daring to enter. They seemed to know entry could only be earned through bloodshed and violence. Reaching down with their right hand the metaba revolver was loosened from it's holster, while the left hand gave their cloak a flick, briefly exposing what appeared to be a length of chain.[/b]
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[i] The man shrugs.[/i] "Sure, we can go a round." [i] He says, his voice filtered and metallic through the mask. The tone was hard and cold, with an edge..like razors on ice. The man with drew the white and gold blade from its sheath and pointed it at the figure.[/i] "I'm a firm believer in knowing who my opponent is, and vice versa. I'm the Ronin."
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[b]The crunch of the ground underfoot signaled the approach of heavy footsteps, footsteps that were no doubt headed towards the new comer...[/b] [b]As the steps eventually came to an end, a mechanical voice spoke up, coming from about five or six feet away from the new comer.[/b] [i]"Well, well... Yet another comes here... Guess that makes me one of the first to welcome you..."[/i] [b]Despite the obvious voice modifier, the tone held a sarcastic and almost lazy vibe, one of a uncaring yet amused individual... But there was more there, like this person was dangerous just by the presence they gave off... No, to because of magic or abilities... But because they hid something with such a disposition.[/b] [i]"If that is the case... Welcome to the Dojo."[/i]
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[b]The figure turnt to view the new arrival, not daring to speak. A blue eye blazed from the shadows of the figures cloak, and a flash of metal could briefly be seen near the figures arms as they stood defiantly staring at the newcomer. It was obvious the figure was looking for entrance to the dojo and was willing to fight for it.[/b]
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[b]The figure standing before the blue-eyed being stood at an impressive 6'3, but seemed to have a very slim build... But more than that was the armor her wore, a solid black suit of carbon fiber, ceramic plating, and vibranium sheer weave... It had a strange white symbol painted on the chest piece and an almost rippling movement to the design to allow perfect movement. It got like a second skin with the leg portion covered by black and red camo cargo pants and heavy military boots over large feet. Then there was the bullet proof glass helmet with thousands of graphs and neural interface systems pinging and blinking across the glass. For a normal person, such an interface would have been very distracting. To top off the armor the figure had two long noise sensors on each side of his helmet that moved ever so slightly in the direction of noise.[/b] [b]Then there was his weapons... A sidearm on the left side of his hip, and magnum on the right. Next were the two large knives sheathed at each portion of his armor's collar area. Lastly came the large sniper at his back... Enough armaments to handle a small group... Excluding all the possible things hidden in his utility built.[/b] [b]As if sensing possible ill intention and violence, he raised his hands ever so slightly and took a step back with a brisk chuckle.[/b] [i]"Easy there... No need for a fight out of the blue... If you want in, you need a sensei, and by hell's bargain, I'm not one of them."[/i] [b]For such an impressive amount of gear, the man had poor posture with slouching shoulders and an almost tired disposition as if he could use a nap... But he seemed to be more friendly than hostile... [/b]
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[spoiler]Bump[/spoiler]
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[spoiler]Ayyy, you're back.[/spoiler] [i]Xavier opened the gates, going over to greet the newcomer.[/i]
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[b]The figure stiffened slightly as the Gates opened, staring at Xavier from beneath their cloak. They took a few steps towards the now open dojo, but do not enter. They know the laws of this place, entrance is only to be gained by those with the will to fight for it.[/b]
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[i]Seeing that the figure was ready for a fight, because of the rules of the dojo, he pulled out his sword.[/i] "Ready?"
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[b]The figure seemed to nod from under their cloak, before immediately drawing their silver revolver from their hip. Within seconds two rounds have been shot from the gun towards you, blue flame blazing around the bullets. [/b]
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[i]He left behind a remnant of himself, letting it tank the bullets. After he blocked them, he started rushing towards him, pulling out his pistol and firing cryo rounds.[/i]
