The Honor Circle (IC) [Fa Teen, for language]

[TheGreyRonin]

Stalker sat quietly behind the bar, waiting patiently for the first of the combatants to enter. He held a leather-bound book in each hand, reading both simultaneously while turning pages with the ends of his fingers. Sun Tzu warred with Groucho Marx for his attention on the pages.

The circle of stone thrummed quietly in the background, the sound of unimaginable energy held in check by incredible magics. He found the sound soothing, a quiet reminder of how many worlds he had visited, how many battles he had seen.

His eyes flicked to the rules for duelling hung neatly beside the end of the bar. Worlds turned, universes changed, but the rules never did.


(edited to change the rating. Just so people know. There's not much of it, but... -- llearch)

[Stygian]

The mist that flowed parted slightly, as three figures slowly made their way somehow through it to the plateau. They had walked the void of this world on the edge for a while, seeking things in the borderlines between places and times. They were that kind of people, one could tell just by looking. Not the steady type, or the caring, or the business-motivated, but the kind that seeks, that travels. One figure was large, seemingly carrying a huge baggage with it. Another was slim, sleek, looked sharp against the backdrop of the mist and moved with a sort of visible determination. The third looked almost like a chesspiece from far off, its long coat, profile and stride making it seem like it flowed over the ground as it walked.
   The three figures entered the stone complex, slowly walking into the "courtyard" and becoming more easily visible. And they were a strange bunch indeed.
   The first, the one with the large set of luggage, might have been a representation of how one would imagine a perfect machine-human would look. She, because her shape and movements easily showed that the constructor had very much been thinking about a woman, was a good six feet tall, had a frame that would have been somewhat muscular but very shapely if she had been a real human and was largely coloured a deep metallic black, with silver sections and some visible mechanical parts like vents and small seams in her skin, which flexed and bent effortlessly as if she had really been organic. She had a nearly featureless, perfect face almost like a teardrop, oval with the chin pointed perfectly, with glowing green slit-like eyes and no nose or mouth. She was dressed in a black tank-top in some synthetic material, and baggy black and dull-green pants of quite similar design, and a similarily coloured jacket over her shoulder in one hand. The baggage she carried consisted of a pair of huge metal crates that were locked together, and what looked like a big black gym bag.
   The second one was indeed as sleek as he had looked at a distance, athletic but slim, and one might have mistaken him for another machine from some distance away. He was almost as tall as the "woman", and wore some kind of skin-tight, partly mechanical suit painted blood red and black, with gold mechanic details, under a black leather jacket and straight pants with one leg covered to the side with a red fire-pattern. He had what looked like a pair of bladed batons set into holsters around his hips, and carried another bag in the hand not in his pocket.
   The third figure was just as tall as the machine, athletic too and looked somewhat muscular and long-limbed, and wore a long flowing coat of utmost black which he had removed and slung over his shoulder as he walked into the courtyard. His clothes underneath were similarly black, consisting of a shirt over a t-top and with his sleeves rolled up, exposing black wrappings that covered his arms, and hinted at his neck, above a silver chain that held an upside-down cross. His pants were straight, and his shoes almost boots; plain, tough and rough-soled. His skin was fair, his hair almost white-blond, and his face very, very handsome and well-shaped if a bit hard.
   The three of them stepped in, looking around for just a minute while slowly pacing around at a far distance from the circle, and then heading straight for the bar. Well there, they began to set down their things, while the pale-blond man walked against the counter.
   "There is actually something to drink around here, right?" he said, not quite looking at Stalker, in a low, melodious voice tinged slightly with a sort of British-German accent that very much fit the face.

[Cogidubnus]

  Two others followed the others into the area, of seemingly similar height but vastly different builds. One a mountain of a man, who walked with the swagger of a legionnaire, and the other with the strange grace of a swordsman.
  As they got closer one could see more differences between them. The big one was the more intimidating of the two. He wore dark black plate emblazoned with a golden salamander on the front, and carried a spear emblazoned with a phoenix strapped to his back, tip down. The tip was in a metal sheath next to his thigh. He had deep-set, crystal blue eyes, and would have had fair features had they not been darkened with soot. It gave his face the bluish gunmetal look of cold ashes, and  the rough effect was accentuated by blanket of black stubble. His hair was short, and coal black, and his teeth were the only points of white in the black. He quickly took a seat in an available chair, and closed his eyes, seemingly tired. Heat came from him in waves.
The other couldn't be more different. He appeared to be a dapper gentlemen, although strangely attired. He, like his companion, wore black, although his suit of sorts was highlighted with silver. Silver buttons and silver cuffs accentuated the black of his jacket and shirt. His pants were loose, and his shoes smooth and laceless, all still in black. He carried at his side a sword, also highlighted in silver, and wore a black hat and darkly shaded lenses, framed in silver, and silver hair pushed out from the fedora. He was of a seemingly mild build, and of a otherwise generally grey coloration. He sat down next to the one robed in grey and put his head in his palm.
"I take it you're the one from the brouchure?" he said, grinning somewhat.

[Stygian]

The blond man with the wrappings stiffened. He recognized the voice of the man that had spoken, and now that he was less overwhelmed with the mysterious place and actually took time to heed to what his senses told him, he realized that he was very much familiar with that particular individual.
   The man turned, and walked with a step that was made quick and silent by much practice over to the other end of the counter, beside the man who had spoken. He peered at him over a pair of clear, slim glasses, his grey eyes like awls. Then he spoke, making the other two who had settled by a table look up.
   "Co-gi-dub-nus, my goodness... Had I known you would be the first..." he said, and chuckled. His tone was familiar, friendly even, but as was the case with him it still carried a bit of an edge.

[Cogidubnus]

Cog jerked his head away from the one idly flipping the book and stared hard at the man from behind dark lenses. The one in black armor looked quizzically at him, and then closed his eyes again. Cog paused for a long moment and tried to recognize the stranger, but couldn't quite place it. He stood and walked closer, and offered his hand. He could smell...something, from him, but it was almost as it his scent was dulled, or that he had almost none at all. What he could smell, he couldn't quite place...he smelled faintly of cigars, and something else. It bothered him that he couldn't make it out. He somewhat prided himself on his nose.
"That's COG-i-dub-nus, good sir." he said, proffering his hand. "Do I know you from somewhere?"

[Stygian]

The man made a short smirk with that smooth face, and took Cogidubnus' hand in his own large, long-fingered one in a firm grip. Up this close one could see the thin scar that ran over the right side of his lips, and another one at the bottom of his right cheek.
   "Ah, yes... I forgot. It wasn't yesterday..." he murred, and shook a bit, letting go quickly. "I'd say we're fairly closely acquainted, though you may not have met my companions. As I have not met yours." He looked over Cog's shoulder at the blackened man behind him.
   Behind his back, casually and unsuspiciously, the man made a few short signs with his hand toward his companions, who pretended not to notice, and more meaning than one might have thought was exchanged. Then, as if that had been his intent all the time, the man slipped out a little black etui of cigars, and made a short nod to Stalker.
   "You don't mind if I smoke, do you? I'll go outside shortly," he said, and flipped out a titanium lighter.

[Cogidubnus]

 Cog quirked an eyebrow and rested a hand on his sword. "I'm sorry...I'm usually pretty good with faces." he said, filing that one away. He still hadn't said his name...and shrugged at the cigars. That was the smoke smell then, but still. There was something else there. Something that set off bells in his head. He motioned to his companion. "That's Giles. He's somewhat a quiet fellow."
Giles waved lazily. "Hi." he said, obviously somewhat distracted. He reached into bag hanging from his belt and pulled out a well-worn pipe, and then pulled out a pinch of tobacco from somewhere else in the bag. He placed the thing in his mouth, and proceeded to light the thing, placing his fingers over it and snapping, his thumb alighting with a small flame. He lit his smoke and puffed a bit. As he did, he shook his hand, dispelling the fire.
Cog shook his head and bowed the stranger's companions. "And who do I have the pleasure of meeting?"

[TheGreyRonin]

Stalker watched the new arrivals with satisfaction, quietly observing. "This should be interesting," he thought to himself, calmly folding away his books.

He watched the byplay between the groups, then cleared his throat as the man brought out his smoking case. "Yes, of course, be my guest. I only run the place for now; feel free."

He gestured to the rules on the sign. "Just follow those, you'll be fine. If I can be of service in any way, just let me know." He grinned, showing all of his teeth. "I'm Stalker, by the way."

Stalker nodded to the far side of the room, where a grand piano stood, along with two pool tables and a jukebox. "I'm afraid I haven't grown a pool player yet, but if any of you play you're quite welcome to do so. I do ask that you confine any destruction to the circle if possible."

(OOC: Edited due to interruptions by neighbors...)

[Stygian]

"Perfect then!" the blond man exclaimed. "There won't be any trouble, I think." He rubbed his hands, and then reached down behind the counter to grab a glass and a bottle of Cognac. Without waiting, he turned and paced out of the restaurant, entering the yard again to go and inspect the circle, leaving the others behind.
   The pair at the table looked up from a bit of conversation after him. The machine woman somehow managed to look a bit humorous, while the man... well, there was no way to tell behind that featureless, smooth visor he wore. Then, they looked up at the two men at the bar silently. The man raised a hand at them, but that was all.
   Outside, the blond man walked slowly around the circle, watching it while he held his glass in one hand and cigar between two fingers in the other, the bottle set to the side against a column a bit off. His eyes were narrow as he looked at the thing, but there was a small smile set on his face.

[TheGreyRonin]

The runes of the circle almost seemed to writhe, as though alive and simply floating under the stone. The odd humming sound rose slightly the closer Stygian came to it, and a faint whispering could be heard, if not made out.

[Cogidubnus]

"An interesting idea, no?" Cog said, standing behind the stranger. He stood rather still behind him, the wind whipping his jacket around wildly, although his hat strangely kept quite still on his head. Cog slowly walked up to the edge of the circle, just behind the line marking it's boundary, and rested a hand on his blade. "Not many places where such power like this exists. Old and ancient."
He grinned at the stranger. "You don't seem to be the type who'd come to this place just to drink and smoke." He waited for a response.

[Stygian]

The man didn't turn, just chuckled, and then spoke to Cogidubnus in that low, smooth tone.
   "No. That is true. Me and my companions came here solely because of this power. That it would turn out to be this thing..."
   Slowly, he placed down his glass and took a step inside the circle, and stood still. He closed his eyes, and almost seemed to bask in the power of it, the low humming permeating the air. Then, he turned and looked at Cogidubnus.
   "We never did finish that fight, did we? No..." he murred, with a bit of a grin on his face. He adjusted his glasses, and looked over the circle a bit again. Then, he spoke up in a clear, strong tone that while not very loud echoed out among the pillairs and columns of the place.
   "I hereby challenge Cogidubnus Mithlome to combat, upon conditions agreed on at acceptance. May he respond to this challenge."

[Cogidubnus]

Cog's eyes widened behind his lenses, and then one narrowed. He stood still for a long moment. The wind blew his jacket about him as he looked to the sky and the grey-clouded sun, and then grinned. "As you wish. I accept." he said, also entering the circle. 
"That you know my complete name is interesting...I did indeed know you well then. I don't forget people that easily." His face soured. "I'd very much like to know who the hell you are." He said, sliding into a low stance. He reached for his sword, then stopped. "Ah, one more thing before we can begin. What are your terms?" he asked, returning to a regular stance and removing his hat, letting it blow on the wind and stop at the invisible wall of the circle.

[Stygian]

The man quirked an eyebrow at him, and chuckled again.
   "Nothing complex. You against me, if you will not have aid. Weapons and equipment that you carry is allowed, even though I have none..." he said, turning around and stepping to the other, far end of the huge circle. He took off his shirt, revealing that the black wrappings did indeed cover all of his arms, up to the beginning of the shoulder, and then started taking off his undershirt.
   "Mff... All means and ways to win are allowed, within the winning conditions. The fight goes on either until the opponent cannot fight anymore, or until he yields." He threw the shirt off on the ground beside him. "Are these terms acceptable to you?" he asked.

[Cogidubnus]

Cog nodded. "Fair enough." He removed his glasses and placed them in a pocket in his coat, and bowed to his opponent. "Honor to you." he said, returning from his bow and sweeping his leg behind him, settling into a low stance. As he did so, he reached into his jacket and wrapped a silver charm around his neck: the air around him warped and curdled, and them settled again. He placed one hand in front of himself, palm open, and the other ready at his waist. His sword lay still in it's sheath.
"To the challenger goes the first strike, good sir."

[Stygian]

The man laughed, and waved a finger at Cogidubnus, smirking.
   "No. I have seen that one before. Besides, it wouldn't be prudent. And I haven't even told you my name yet..." he said, taking a step forward and grinning, slowly closing his eyes.
   He raised his hands just a bit, and leaned his head back, still smiling. And something happened. White hinted at his back, and with a fluffing sound it spread. From his back, a pair of large, white-feathered wings with slightly blackened tips slowly grew outward, spreading around him. And his hands... thin lines of black started appearing on them, the skin on his fingers darkening, and that blackness spreading back slowly, as the tips turned into claws. His hands were soon as black as his wrappings. Similarily, thin lines began spreading from around his eyes...
   And then, he opened them, and looked at Cogidubnus, his eyes now having become bottomless wells of blackness, seething as if seeping black smoke. His skin slowly paled, and he smiled, his teeth now having become equally black and glistening, together with all the flesh inside his mouth. He licked his lips with a long, dark and sharp-tipped tongue, and then spoke, in a hissing, dual and slithering voice.
   "My name is Sebastian Simon Lucian Neraux, the first Angel. And I also go by the name Stygian."

[Cogidubnus]

Cog was a trained fighter, a highly diciplined and skilled swordmaster, and had fought many, many battles and not once lost his focus. At that moment, the gentle breeze that blew around him threatened to knock him to the ground. That thankfully only lasted a moment.
"Sebastian." he said, his voice low. He shook his head. "The smell of ink and blood. That's what it was. You've gotten better at that since I last met you." He smiled in spite of the 'angels' two-toned voice, an intimidating wail and growl. "I'd say it was good to see you again, but well, that can wait for later." He pulled another charm out of his jacket, this one of many peices of a broken moon. "For now, you seem to want a contest. So, shade, angel, priest..." he said, his voice rising in tone. "Shall we dance?" he said, murming yet more words under his breath and placing the next charm around his neck. It glowed for a moment, and then seemed to lay quiet.
Cog ran at Stygian, keeping one hand on his sword and the other on his sheath.

[Stygian]

The Fallen laughed, and took up a slightly sideways stance, keeping his dark eyes on Cog and the somewhat black aura of a sort of halo of darkness surrounding his head. The blackness at the tips of his wings started seething, spreading up over them, and the cracks of black in his skin deepened.
   "Come then! There is no dance better than this!" he said with an almost flamenco-like step into his stance. The black claws of his fingers glistened as he raised his hands, preparing himself, and standing still as Cog ran at him.

[Cogidubnus]

Fool, Cog thought. he shouldn't have given me the first strike. As he neared the shade, he stopped running on his heels and started to run on the balls of feet, leaning forward a little, and then yelled out something in latin. The charm on his neck grew brighter, and Cog grinned.
The sound of metal scraping echoed through the arena, and Cog drew his blade. Brght, white light poured from his sword, the blade the color of white-hot metal, or perhaps the color of the moon on a clear night. He drew in an instant, a flash of time, and swung up from his hip and down towards Stygian, the bright, iridescent blade flashing.

[Stygian]

The "Angel" did not move until the very last moment, drawing back and to the side, and merging with his own shadow, his body becoming dark in a flash. His shape glided along the ground and around with mercurial speed, the flashing blade striking at an afterimage, and the real monster dashing to the side. While he did, he raised his hand, and around them long, whipping tentacles of darkness formed and reached out, aiming for Cogidubnus. It was plain to see that while Cog had the advantage of speed due to practice close up, the shadow was capable of moving much faster on its "feet".
   I'll play with him and see what he has... then I'll get close and personal, the Fallen thought.

[Cogidubnus]

Cog soured as his blade passed through the shade, and flowed with the ineffectual strike to bring the blade back up over his head, twisting on the balls and heels of his feet to turn seamlessly, without really having to shift his torso or legs. He grimaced at the tentacles flying towards him. One, maybe two he could hit, but not that many, and certainly not at different heights and locations. Instead, he whipped the sword back down over his head and to his side, a one-handed and low grip, and his free arm raised in front of him. He allowed some of the tentacles to grab him, and when most of them were fairly close, he yelled and clenched his fist. A bowl of force expanded from his body and blew the tentacles off him, the ones merely close being blown backwards. That taken care of, Cog again ran at Stygian, raising his sword to a middle guard and slicing stunned tentacles as he went.

[Stygian]

Stygian in turn smiled, fending off the charging Iaidouka with more barbed tentacles from his shadow, many of them growing larger and some even forming snapping dragon-like heads. He slowly reassumed some of his looks on his upper body as the darkness slithered down and in, while he moved swiftly, gliding on the darkness around his feet. As long as he could keep that sword at a reasonable distance, he could tire Cogidubnus out some and get a feel for his moves, and then...
   Very suddenly, Stygian turned on his feet, reared, and then threw himself in a high leap over the other man, trailing lashes of darkness from his hands that he swept down as he flipped, while leaving the major portion of his shadow behind and having it assume another humanoid shape of black behind him, attacking Cog from the other direction with a broad, clawed sweep. He knew this attack would fail as well, of course. The werewolf was much too fast to be caught by something simple like that. But he remembered clearly that the Dubnus did have problems when facing too many attackers, or too many attacks. And that was something that Stygian was very good at dealing out. Landing with a low tramp from a foot, he crouched down low and slid back to avoid any long sweeps from that sword, and began drawing out a massive amount of darkness from his shadow. He would increase the pressure...

[ardaron]

Above the sea of mist, a winged figure flew.  Each of his golden, feathered wings stretched as long as the height of his body, and his feathers reflected light as if made of real gold.  The rest of his body, however, was the scaled form of a dragon.  His scales were a dull black, and their edges were deeply incised into his skin, forming strange patterns.  From a distance, it almost looked like there was some form of writing scribed upon his hide, but if it was indeed writing, it was of no alphabet known to dragons.  He was no bigger than a man, and possessed the same general shape; although at the moment that form was horizontal in flight.  The dragon was garbed in a simple, brown leather tunic, with large holes cut into the back to allow for his wings.  From the edges of his tunic showed glints of a gold-colored chainmail, made of a metal light enough to allow flight, yet strong enough to deflect at least a moderate amount of damage.  He also wore brown cloth leggings, the same color as his tunic, with a strap over the base of his muscular tail to hold the leggings in place.  His hands were tipped with amber-colored claws, blunter than most dragon claws, yet still fairly sharp.  His face was dominated by an elongated snout, but his eyes were easily seen as belonging to an intelligent creature.  The pupils were slitted, like a cat's eyes, and the irises were colored an amber shade, within a ring of coppery red.  They were focused eyes, the eyes of one bound by a sense of duty, but they also carried a certain sense of deep wisdom.  Above each of his eyes was a sail-like ridge of black skin, supported by bony rods.  Where the final rod should have been, however, was a gently curving horn.  These two horns were a bright, glowing orange, the color of molten metal.  This creature was an omni dragon, and his name was Ardaron.

The omni dragon was gliding nearly effortlessly, guided by a fortunate wind.  He dared not walk through the mist, a substance unlike any natural mist he had seen before.  He knew to be cautious of that which one did not understand, so he flew above the mysterious stuff.  Finally, that which the dragon sought came into view.  An island in the mist.  The dragon pumped his wings, adding his own power to the strength of the breeze that carried him.  It didn't take long for the speck of land that he saw to become a giant plateau, and a black, temple-like building to come into view atop that plateau.  Ardaron slowed his wingbeats in preparation for a landing, bringing his body into an upright position.  His feet, scaly yet lionlike paws that were tipped with the same amber claws as his hands, touched the moist earth.  The dragon folded his wings against his back, and strode towards the black building he had seen from the air, his thick tail swishing back and forth with each step.  He walked through the entryway into the courtyard, and his eyes fell upon the two duelers, particularly the one who had just created a humanoid form out of solid darkness.  Elemental combat was something that Ardaron was very interested in, and darkness was one of the elements he was still a long way from mastering.  The omni dragon stopped walking, and stood a good distance away from the circle to watch the battle, carefully evaluating the methods of the two combatants, hoping to learn a thing or two for himself.  He leaned against a nearby pillar, supporting his weight against it, conserving his energy in case he should get a chance to prove himself in the Honor Circle.  Some part of him noted the existence of a restaurant that was a little further into the courtyard, but for now, the duel was far more interesting.

[Cogidubnus]

 Cog was an erudite gentlemen, able to use words and phrases that most men would have found obtuse, or perhaps opaque, or at least would have left them scratching their heads. As Cog saw Stygian simply jump out of his own body over him, the only words that came to mind were certainly of the wrong etymology, and usually used to describe objects and functions not regarded to be suitable for polite company.
More out of surprise than anything: Stygian had the right idea, certainly. Attacking a swordsman from multiple angles and directions was the best way to get him off balance. Certain prescient knights of old could block from seemingly any direction, but for merely mortal swordsman, seeing every angle at once was difficult. Blocking from every angle was more difficult still. There was one flaw with his plan, however.
Attacking a swordsman from purely linear angles was about as effective as attacking from one. As he ran, he didn't even stop as Stygian flew overhead. He brought the sword down, and then as the clawed hand neared him, up again, in an angled strike. The glowing sword met the shadow and cut through, but Cog didn't stop there. He turned with the cut, slicing the nearest tentacle to his head, and then proceeding to desperately fend off the others. Allright, maybe not such a bad plan. he thought, and he began moving to the right, getting out from in between the two shades.

[Stygian]

Stygian growled with the pain of a very nearly dismembered hand and a whole lot of his other self being sliced up like last day's turkey. Still, he had been counting on some cost for going into melee directly. And as this range, he could start making some very serious damage. The free part of his shadow split and seethed as it assaulted Cogidubnus, and both Stygian and his shadow merged again, moving along with Cog's movement and cutting him off. And now, as Stygian tore out all of his darkness from the shadow beneath and beside him, there was a whole lot of him, many times his own "body size" and weight, to cut the werewolf off.
   A veritable flood of darkness slammed into Cog, some of it being burned by his sword but the majority just not paying any heed. It smashed into him from beside and below, sending him flying like a toy, and then whipped back to surround the black-clothed man from beneath whom it emanated, as he stood straight again and regarded Cogidubnus with vicious eyes.
   "Good! You've gained even more of an edge since last..." Stygian said appreciatively, the shadow circling his feet and clawing and slithering around him. "Not to mention you couldn't keep that holy aura up so strongly before. You improve, puppy." He laughed, and clenched his long, black-clawed hands, one of his wrists piecing itself together before one's very eyes, together with a slight cut to his shoulder that seethed of black. "Don't presume that I haven't too though."

[Cogidubnus]

 Cog grinned at Stygian, despite the danger, and though he was closer to death than he had expected. The longer he stayed in this position, the bigger chance that Stygian would crush him like a bug. Of course, he'd have to break the power in his protective charm first, but that'd take...oh, a few moments at best.
"You know the thing about jello, sir?" he said, tilting his head. "It bends so easily." he said, clenching both fists. A wave of force burst from his body, pushing the shadow back - and in the few moments he had in that black-painted fishbowl, he nearly ripped the lining out of his jacket and grabbed a bronze coin, and rubbed it between his fingers, then flipped it off his thumb. It flared to life with an incredible brilliance, the sun in miniature.

[Stygian]

It had to come sometime, he guessed, but Stygian still snarled as Cog played his real forté. He threw up his arms and dashed back, trying as much as he could to get away from the blinding light. One could see how the darkness that was not directly part of his body seemed to burn and peel off him, being pushed back as if by a strong wind. Dark matter that could usually cut armor and bend steel with ease was turned into little but shadow and smoke as it was forced off him and back.
   There was no time to waste. Since he was vulnerable anyway, Stygian spared no effort in getting away, making a backflipping leap as far to the ring's edge as he could, and then almost crawling on all fours backwards. He made a growl as he swept out his hands, and mystic signs of fire trailed his fingers. A complex circle pattern for an incantation appeared before him, a bit to the side, and an intricate magical symbol that one might have recognized as meaning Posside with an imperative twist to it appeared within it. He was thinking of using another one of the werewolf's weaknesses, though this one might be a bit more difficult to exploit. Or rather, he thought it might be difficult to exploit correctly, and without hurting the man severely...

[Gareeku]

As the two warriors fought, another figure entered the building, his brown hooded cloak billowing from the outside wind. His face was hidden by the shadows the hood of the cloak created, but a blue outfit, black sandal-like footwear and white fur could be seen underneath the cloak as it billowed in the wind. Staying silent, the figure walked to the bar, before turning round and leaning on it, the figure's shadowed face turned towards the duel being played out.

[ardaron]

Ardaron became more and more focused upon the battle as it continued.  The man with the sword seemed very skilled in its use, and Ardaron found himself mimicking the man's sword-strokes as he watched.  Ardaron's imagined sword cut downwards, and back up again, as he mimicked Cog's move that had cleaved the shade's hand, turning his body with the movement of his 'sword'.  His movements possessed a certain grace that was inherent to his draconic heritage, but it was fairly easy to tell that he had very little experience with swords.  He was only acquainted with the simplest of sword techniques, and so was determined to learn everything he could from watching the events that were unfolding.  It was his duty to learn all he could about combat, if he was to have a prayer of halting the war that was brewing between the nations of his world.

Ardaron stopped his imaginary sword practice and turned his attention to Stygian once again, as the shade summoned up a great mass of shadow that left the omni dragon staring in awe.  And at the same time, a twinge of bewilderment.  The omni dragon was beginning to notice that the darkness summoned by the shade seemed very different from the sort of magical darkness he was used to.  But he couldn't quite place what it was that made it different.  Just that the shade's darkness seemed darker, somehow.  Not in any sort of literal sense, not that it was any more lightless than other kinds of darkness, but it was just . . . darker.  That was the only word Ardaron could think of for it.

Ardaron continued to watch as the swordsman brought out a small metal coin which then transformed into a miniature sun, and the shade's unnatural darkness began to weaken.  The dragon would have kept watching, but then he spotted something moving outside the dueling circle, and upon shifting his attention to the newcomer, saw that it was a figure cloaked in brown.  The figure's cloak made it impossible for Ardaron to discern any details about him from the distance and the angle he was at, but it was easy to tell that he was headed for the restaurant Ardaron had scarcely noticed earlier.  This brought the bar into the foreground of the dragon's thoughts, and he began to walk toward it, curious now.  As he walked, he continually glanced back at the circle, not wanting to miss any of the duel.  He noticed Stygian beginning to cast a spell, but whatever the spell was, it wasn't one with which Ardaron was familiar.

[TheGreyRonin]

Stalker watched the duel with intent, gauging each of the combatant's abilities. Without a doubt these two were among the best fighters he had ever seen.

He noted the dragon-man's arrival, and watched as he became enthralled with the battle. The fluid movements and skill held his attention as another person entered the temple.

As the brown-cloaked person reached the bar, and the dragon-man approached, Stalker coughed politely. "One assumes that this will be a rather longish fight. I'm Stalker; if you'd like a drink or food, I'd be happy to provide it."

He glanced over his shoulder towards the kitchen area and clattered something gutteral. Something clattered back, ending with a moist-sounding phlut!

A pretty young woman with dark hair cut in a loose pageboy around her face walked into the bar. She wore a dark blue uniform with a yellow symbol like a clock with the hands on midnight on the chest and black combat boots. On her hip was an odd kind of holster, holding a pistol that looked like it had been carved from black glass.

  She glanced at the ongoing fight, then brushed her hair back from her face, revealing four huge puckered scars in a perfect square, one above and below each eye. Walking over to the table nearest the bar she turned a chair backwards, sat, and lit up a cigarette on the tip of her finger.

She nodded to the dragon-man and the cloaked person at the bar while eyeing the other patrons appraisingly. She sucked a huge drag off her cigarette and blew a large cloud of smoke from her lips.

Her voice when she spoke was soft and pleasant. "So, here we are again. Looks like a better group of fighters than the last time."