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originally posted in:The New Dojo
originally posted in: THE DOJO
11/5/2016 4:10:01 AM
1
[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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