At the Edge of Time: Mesiphidon vs Arcerion

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At the Edge of Time: Mesiphidon vs Arcerion

Post by Arcerion on Sat May 09, 2015 5:31 am

((For those curious this is a non-cannon fight against The God-Emperor Mesiphidon and the Exercion of Hatred Arcerion.  This is meant to be more of an OOC training session, as the prospect of both of these power characters fighting to their fullest extent in cannon would result in one or both characters permanent death.This has been agreed upon as a non-cannon fight by the players prior to the fight commencing.))

The stage was set, as if time itself had molded this place at the very edge of reality to their purposes.  The Arena was a derelict now of its former self, with nature having long since taken a hold on the works of sentient beings. A distortion of reality maybe?  It mattered not the the True Exercion Lord.  Tree's and other plant life had crept in through the cracks over ages.  Covering the stonework of a once proud arena.  The pit was still vaguely discernible as were the remnants of stand slong gone by.  This place had drank the blood of countless millions in its time, and now at the very edge of time it would drink one last time.  There was cover to be had here within the foliage, but it was sparse enough to give neither side an advantage over the other.

Arcerion strode through the growing tree's large and thick enough now to easily obscure his form, yet not as dense as the forest he once hunted in with Thargor.  Arcerion moved with the grace of a lord, long legs holding up his tall seven foot frame.  Musculature only vaguely hinted at beneath his worn brown long coat.  Hair of black at the roots which faded into snow white at the tips covered his head.  Wisps of the hair hardly hid the bright red eyes which shone beneath with a predators gaze.  That gaze was matched by the sharpened shark like teeth which fitted his mouth perfectly.  Of course those were unnatural, he had filed them down long ago to not only match the creature he'd mated with, but his own brother Thargor.  His legs clad in simple loose fitting pants moved with the soft sound of metal with every subtle movement he made.  Worn boots trudged through the would be pit of the arena here and hands clenched rapidly as he loosened himself up for the true final test of who would rule all.  Emperor vs Emperor, one on one, it had a certain bit of romanticism to it.  At his sides hung a single long sword with a cross hilt upon it.  The sword was made for a man his own size to wield one handed, giving him a certain reach advantage against those who fought him blade to blade.

"False Poet of fortitude I call thee forth.  God-Emperor of the Second Great Civilization I deny your authority to the blackest reaches of space.  Come forth and face your brother experiment in combat!  I know the truth of you now, I know of our long dead purpose, Let us show our makers just which experiment was the greatest!  My Lord Thargor shall feast tonight upon your core, but not before I've had my fill of it."  As he spoke these words Arcerion's own clawed digits made incisions into multiple pouches he held on hsi form dumping dust and ash upon the ground around him of the cremated.

Arcerion closed his eyes for a moment, waiting to scent his opponent.  Reaching within the hollow center of his metaphysical self and pulling forth just a fragment of the power gifted him by that limitless hunger.  The chains which bound him unlocking as his ebony chains now writhed freely around him, along with a single ivory chain which slithered along his form in the protective way a lover may.  His clawed hand raised as he called forth the banquet of his soul, empowering himself for a moment he dug a single clawed digit into the air and ripped it apart.  Causing a pinprick size hole in the air about him which had a small vacuum behind it.  Eating the dust and particles that moved into the air.

After releasing his bonds, his mind removed from calling forth the power of his soul and simply focused upon his will as Thargor had taught him long ago.  The spirit of change was buried deep within his genetics, but it could be called forth with training.  He was an ascended being who saw reality for what it was.

His right hand moved to his blade and withdrew it.  Taking an even footed stance, with his blade facing diagonally out towards where his opponent would show himself.  The blade was at a tilt to properly defend the majority of his torso with the simple flick of his wrist.
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Re: At the Edge of Time: Mesiphidon vs Arcerion

Post by Mesiphidon on Sun Aug 16, 2015 1:31 am

In typical fashion, the Dra’sin Emperor kept Arcerion waiting until the point of frustration before arriving. The prelude to his arrival his whispered words among the winds, echoing through all ”For one that denounces my station, he certainly calls to me as one might a deity.” The silence almost seemed to echo with humor at the irony. A touch of amusement laced through the words, as Mesiphidon gave birth to an Avatar. The presses of his influence touching the ambient from beyond the veil of existence caused the very fabrics of this reality to tremble. A single pulse as a command was given, a fragment of his core given release into the world before the unseen shadow that loomed over them all faded away.

Twenty feet before Arcerion the world ignited as Core Magi gathered Static Magi, the fires of life burning to creation matter. A living flame of pure white taking shape to that of a man, ever thickening as bone and flesh, tendon and sinew were created from nothing but the world itself. The figure was imposing, larger than life at a height of 6’6. Not quite as tall as the heathen which called him forth, but where Arcerion was tall and slender. The human figure of the God Emperor was broad and built. Reminiscence of a Greco statue, and then some.

In usual Celesin fashion, accouterments of black dressed him. Powerful arms covered with what seemed like inky black metal plates that molded to the contours of every muscle. The contoured vest all but a chest plate and outlined with silver. Dark pants above polished boots and a sash cinched to his waist finished the ensemble. Before at long last the Emperors cloak settled around his shoulders. Twin clasps bearing the Lion of Celesin fastened the void black garment that was capped with a mantle of purest white Harsonan Lion fur. With all but unkempt locks of pure white hair, and beard not quite groomed, he looked both dignified and savage. Refined and yet on the verge of violence. Every inch of the Emperor screamed his station as a warrior and a ruler.

And as the blazing inferno of white fire finally receded within the man only to be kindled in his eyes, that gaze hardened. For all the prowess his form suggested it was his eyes that spoke the silent word; you were beneath him. Few if any could rival the Hubris of a Dra’sin, less so that of a Dra’sin Emperor. And none met Mesiphidon’s; the most feared of them all.  

When he finally stepped forwards it was as if time suddenly resumed again without anyone being aware it had stopped in the first place. The usual apathetic mask of the Emperor almost cracked into what only hinted at a cruel grin. Long dead names, and pleas of resistance. Perhaps time has fogged your memory my dear child.” His word were neither cold nor heated, the complete lack of tone suggested nothing more than a common task was yet again to be performed. He took another step as his right arm extended, an indigo flash extended from the grip of his closing hand as his will was made manifest. Alan’dore actualized; powerful fingers closing now on the wrapped shaft of the legendary polearm.

The Core Magi that suddenly flooded the Avatar brought the blaze of fire in his eyes to greater ferocity as even the air before them distorted with the heat. ”It seems I must again remind you of your place, and the difference between us.” Still those toneless words as his left arm suddenly turned black like one of the Kings. The blackness creeping down and taking shape into a large Hoplon. A gift from his beloved wife, brought to life by his sister in law Konstatine, Lion’s Guard was something Arcerion had never seen before. ”But this time, old friend. I will end your existence and deliver you into the endless black. Prison it seems, is not enough.”

Mesiphidon took another step, closing the gap at an unhurried pace. Alan’dore shifted in his grip as the Core Magi flowed through the focus causing the crystal capped between the blades to take on a vibrant glow. The now forwards tip of the spear seemed to be distorting the very air around it and growing more intense yet compressing with every step he took. His forwards walk seeming nothing more now than a countdown to an execution.
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Re: At the Edge of Time: Mesiphidon vs Arcerion

Post by Arcerion on Tue Aug 18, 2015 10:23 pm

The thought of leaving had crossed his mind as he waited for his rival to answer his call. Preparing as he seeped his hunger ever outwards of his form. His mind worked the complex rotes taught to him by Thargor, disengaging from his own shadow was a maneuver that had become simple after years of practice. Where a shadow once mimicked his every step now there was a simple bit of light radiating from his feet and keeping the darkness at bay.

The Exercion could not help but chuckle at his opponents entrance, of course he would mistake his respect for deification. While the body assembled before him in the arena at the edge of time he would give his own reply so that his opponent was not so glorified. "I respect you, not your station. You are no deity to me nephew, just another link in a chain." He grinned as he saw the weapons of choice for Mesiphidon. He was actually quite elated to know that the emperor at least took this seriously enough to don armor and shield before him. He could sense his opponents resolve or simple lack there of. The emperor knew what he was fighting, which meant that Arcerion could not take advantage of a heightened emotional state as he had in many duel's past. That was fine by him, it made this an even match.

More words and wind were expelled from his opponent, and he took them all with the grace of any combatant that the emperor had faced before him. He did not bend a knee, or quiver in fear, yet he also did not boast and shout about how he would end Mesiphidon. He gave him the respect that he deserved. The ivory chain wriggled down to his free hand where it would expand and fill in the empty space until he was using a kite shield in that free arm. It would do well not to underestimate his opponent. He raised the white shield to block at his body, switching his stance so that he had one foot in the lead and the shield covering the majority of his lean frame save for legs and head. His sword arm had been drawn back, and loose allowing him to quickly change directions as was necessary.

He certainly noticed the glowing tip upon one of the spears blades, he would be a fool not to. Most likely the emperor would be going for a one hit kill on him to finish this off as quickly as possible. Yet he had already made the simple mistake of allowing Arcerion time to prepare himself. Every step, move and breath that he made resonated within Arcerion's hungering soul as something that was not himself, that which was approaching him was prey to him. Once Mesiphidon had taken five steps in, Arcerion would begin to back himself away from his opponent. The first move was a quick flick of his blade at the dust that had coated the arena towards Mesiphidon's eye's in an attempt to blind him. Next an overhand strike would repel the air in a concentrated blade meant to strike the emperor directly in the head. He then kept his distance just far enough away that neither of them could reach each other without the other perceiving it first. As the tension of this fight was reaching a fever pitch the reality around them would seem to agree as sparks and flashes of reality being warped just by their sheer power and presence would be noticeable.
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Re: At the Edge of Time: Mesiphidon vs Arcerion

Post by Mesiphidon on Sun Aug 23, 2015 2:02 am

Unlike so many pups that challenged the Emperor, Arcerion did not declare his fall or offer puffed up rebuttals and promises of his end. That feat alone earned the Excerion a touch of the Avatar’s respect. Fire lit eyes regarded the man with a calculating but predatory gaze. Eyes that saw all, not simply the physical. Unlike the most Dra’sin Mesphidon has become and Ascended Magi Knight, one of only three in all of existence. And oddly enough the previous two were from his very line. Ascension altered the nature of a Dra’sin in that their physical body was no longer needed to sustain their core, or act as an anchor point to keep their core from scattering. Mesiphidon’s true existence was no longer rooted to a form, and he could interact with and perceive the world around him at will.

The Avatars still acted as an original Dra’sin’s body might, however an Ascended Magi Knight was capable of creating new physical bodies, on any world instead of needing to adapt the physiology of the original to the new reality. This also gifted him with an intimate awareness of the Ambient the avatar currently resided in. All within existence could be followed by his gaze and awareness, every move Arcerion made was as visible as the strokes of a brush on canvas. Mesiphidon could not read the future, precognition despite his Al’mir ties was beyond him. Future knowledge was a different matter one thing, but the course of actions and flow of history was another. There was little if anything that escaped that gaze, so if the Exercion as relying on subtly and tricks to see his way through it would be a very uphill battle.

The Avatar’s pace never slowed or sped up, the manifesting of a shield for Arcerion was an oddity, and perhaps and admission that his foe was wary. It wasn’t that Mesiphidon was giving Arcerion time to prepare, but that the Warrior Emperor was setting his board. As Arcerion began his back step to maintain the fifteen foot pace, the Avatars stance altered. Leading with his left shoulder, the large Hoplon reminiscent of the Earthen Spartan’s but bladed along its outer edge was raise and the spear shifted back. Stance lowering as the point of distortion around the tip of the spear grew more dense and condensed further until it seemed but a single point of inverted light on the tip of Alan’dore’s spear.

Arcerion finally acted, the first of his strikes to send sand towards the eyes of the Avatar brought upon his immediate reaction as Core Magi commanded the Static Magi of the Ambient in that which Mesiphidon made his home; fire. The Force Reaction caused the world to ignite in burning white flames in a 30 foot radius around the Avatar. The heat and fire of course, doing two things. One burning everything within them including the sand flung towards his eyes now protected by a shield, and two, draining the area of air and oxygen to fuel the flame. Perhaps Arcerion required the substance, but the burning inferno would effectively sap the air from the second intended strike of Arcerion to nothing. His second attack little more than fuel for the flames.

Fire however was Mesiphidon’s birthright and affinity, the intensity and strength came from his attunement. They cost him little, but served well as the second pulse of Magi enacted his second will. Oddly enough the earth didn’t tremble as the 10 foot thick wall of rock and dirt suddenly appeared in a half circle behind Arcerion as if from deposition. Cutting off his retreat, and beginning to heat, soon to become molten.

That was when Mesiphidon’s pace suddenly changed and he blitzed forwards towards Arcerion with shield raised. Very obviously intending to Shield Rush/Bash the taller man, who was now potentially cut off from further retreat. Mesiphidon in typical fashion struck hard fast and loud, but few ever saw beyond the assault. As two smaller, almost imperceptible distortions were released in the chaos. The glow of Alan’dore’s gem, his Magi Focus increased in radiance as the two small dots of Core Magi made their arrival. One, circling around Arc in the flame, most likely mistaken as simply a part of the heat distorting the air. And the other, remaining rather fixed a short six inches from the tip of Mesiphidon’s spear and the original but now very evident point. It’s density of Magi was such that while it couldn’t be sensed, it was like feeling an impossible weight or density that wasn’t there. A phantom essence just beyond the perception of existence.

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