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Rusting Away. (Open Challenge)



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Perception╘Truth

Deception is Truth, Verity is Lying
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It has been FOREVER since I've been on this site, let alone done a roleplay battle. I desperately need a refresher and anyone who wants to help a guy out would be appreciated.

I would prefer whoever takes this challenge to be experienced at least a little bit, but really anyone is welcome to most likely beat me to a pulp.

Rules:
General RP rules, ie: No G-modding, PP-ing
I'd prefer a melee battle if we could
templates don't need to be detailed, just a general idea of weaponry, looks, etc.


Anything else you need to know, just ask, I'm happy to help.
 

Ðari

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Name
: Daviel "Davey" Domineuce
Other Names: Link
Age: Early twenties.
Mental Age: Twenty-three
Gender: Male
Homeland: Hyrule/Faron Woods
Species: Hylian

Appearance:
He's about five feet and ten inches in height. The shape and tone of his body is about physically fit to every adequate extension. His eyes are the color of liquid blood, baring hair of a charcoal blue, in the moonlight it looks about this color. His ears are connected, and nose rounded with an expression at times really oblivious yet often cheery.

Graced on his form is a black tunic, underneath is a netted shirt which is in best respects a warrior's chain-mail. There is a skinny white shirt that sleeved underneath the chain-mail that extends out of the sleeves of the tunic. Covering his arms are two brown, almost amber coloured gloves, fingerless. Each arm is braced by a guard of the same colour because on the reasons of him being an archer.

His bottoms are also black, a pair of loose clothed pants. Laced in dark brown coloured boots, with ties that come up halfway between the calves and knee. On his back he carries Feral, which is right next to a sheathed Glave. Covering all of this is the shield Harvey. His waist is fastened by a fine leather belt, carrying his bombs, Ivacles, and Lenix.
Personality:
The strong silent type. Usually only talks when people ask him his name, he communicates through his strong bodily gestures and facial expressions. He has these really annoying high-pitched noises he makes based upon his style of melee in combat. He's got a keen eye for battle, a half-skilled sword master thats been drilled by the best in Hyrule. He does however enjoy tranquility and the settings that indulge a lazy and ethereal feel.
Armaments:

Glave
A basic format in terms of just appearance, Glave was crafted by some of the finest metals found in the mines of Ordon. It's about two and a half feet in length not including the guard and grip. Dipped in the and cooled in the Ordon Spring to cool and solidify the still making it exponentially formidable to being shattered by physical means. It's shape from the guard up, is wide then narrows as it flows up to the tip. Its layered over with an indention being a dual-edged blade. The grip is black and wonderfully decorated to portray its elegance.

Harvey
A shield of course what other way is there to say about it. Its made of metal and decorated with the seal of the royal family. The fabled triforce is depicted at the very top of its somewhat rounded diamond-like shape. Its about the right weight so motioning for sheild attacks and defensive maneuvers are within his range of flexibility.

Lenix
A basic boomerang found in one of the old forest during an exploration of Faron Woods. Its aerodynamics support it's ability to be thrown and returned
Feral
A bow along with a quiver that maxes out to fifty arrows. Behind the shield Harvey, Feral is an armament of long distance attacks. His eyes are keen, he holds the feral with his left hand as he is left-handed.

Ivacles
A basic grappling hook with a claw thats mechanical. Similar to those prize grabbers, its grip is controlled by motion or within the range of something its able to grapple. It opens up automatically and locks on, when the rope is spun twice clockwise, the grip releases. Used to scale heights, as a tight rope, and to tie up foes.

Bombs
This is pretty simple. He carries a bombag which holds a maximum of forty bombs at a time. Used in destroying small rocks, tossed and/or thrown at enemies, and even able to latch them onto his arrows to create bomb arrows.

Hookshot
A device that acts as a much more reliable grappling hook in terms of speed. Its an unmeasured amount of chain wrapped around a revolving wheel with a hook at the beginning. Its shot and jutted into wood, rock, and some steel. Then fiercely brings the wielder to the pierced spot. He carries two of these.
Swordplay:
Mortal Draw
The swift extension of sword and hand. A strike the withholds about a second time wise, a swift spin and slash in a full 360 motion.

Backlash
The evasive attack, quickly spinning into a tuck roll around to the back of an enemy and rising up with a twirl spin to slice from the base of the spine to the upper back.

Spin Attack
It covers the blind spots of two dimensions, a full 720, which incorporates two full spins at a high speed. Side effects are mild dizziness which wears itself down in a matter of a moments.

Rapid Stab
A series of countless stabs or jabs with a sword done in concurring rows of strikes at different angles to produce unpredictability.
History:Where to start with this kid. He's got so much history, I guess I could just take parts from here and there if it helps.

There was a point in his teen-hood when he was just a peasant the dwelled in the Faron Woods. Life of normalcy it seemed, and he didn't argue. He lived by himself and not secluded to his sense of loneliness. The neighborhood kids in huts nearby were his friends who'd often get in trouble. As the days of this carefree life seemed eternal he knew no end to these days of peace.

It was later down the way he'd come to grasp with his ancestors were all 'linked' to the same fate in some way. He wasn't an Ordon, rather he was a Hylian. Of some kind of mystical bloodline it seemed, courage was just in his entity. Putting on the tunic passed down from generation to generation. Arming himself with the best and yet unexpected armaments he'd come across.

There was a point where he met a woman, this princess that ruled over this land beyond Termina, even Ordon, by the name of Zelda. It wrang around in the back of his mind for some time, but the familiarity just seemed uncanny. It was as though she had undergone something of the same weight of responsibility in following the chain, harboring the mystical symbol on her hand too.

It only gets stranger, to this stranger.
 
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Perception╘Truth

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Name: Shitsuren

Aliases: Brise, Pena, Agony, The Crippled Warrior, Bleeding Samurai, Battosai Aka

Age: Mid-Thirties

Gender: Male

Origin: Considered Japanese

Appearence: Armor-Basic Appearence

Shitsuren wears the typical armor of a Samurai with a few alterations. Due to his experiences throughout time and space, his armor has slowly been replaced with a lighter, tougher metal of unknown origin. This metal can be damaged with steel and other metals tougher than iron, but cannot be cut through except with extreme force. Besides the physical change, Shitsuren has made some aesthetic changes to his armor. Where there would be shoulder coverings, Shitsuren has removed all but three small plates over the shoulder socket. This allows him a larger range of arm movement and striking speed. As well, weights have been tied to the lower arm and lower leg portions of the armor to strength Shitsuren. Finally his helmet panels extended further down his neck and the "horns" are in two pairs, one pair on the front as normal, and a second, razor-sharp pair the fit into a slot in the center of the helmet and can be removed.

Kimono: Underneath this armor, Shitsuren wears a white kimono. While the majority of the kimono is white, thin lines of yellow run through the outer and inner portions. As well, the pants have a line of yellow at their top and bottom. These colors have meaning only to Shitsuren.

As for his physical appearence, Shitsuren looks like a typical Japanese man, (short, about 5' 5" and of slim build) albeit with interesting eye and hair colors. His irises are bright green with small six-pointed star shaped bursts in a clock like pattern around his pupils which, while being black like human eyes, shine with an inner light that in the dark causes them to appear whatever color they are looking at. His hair is an odd case as well, being very thick and bushy in all conditions, water having only a minimal effect on its puffy grandeur. Because of this, Shitsuren continuely has to shave his head, leaving a thick stubble atop his scalp, but classy like David Beckham. The important part of this isn't the style, its the coloring. Shitsuren's hair has smaller finer hair in the spaces that would be bare on a human scalp. These hairs reflect light on both the infered and ultraviolet spectrum, making them invisible to human eyes, but adding a reddish-purple cast to his dark hair.

Personallity: Shitsuren is much like a stereotypical samurai. Honorable, strong, hot-tempered and bound in tradition. He however is far less prideful than many and tends to underestimate his own abilities. He is extermely logical and tends to predict people's motives and thoughts fairly accurately after watching them for awhile. He has the tendency to not know what to say, so 90% of the time he keeps his mouth shut and instead lets those around him do the talking. He isn't afraid to strike up a conversation though, and has the inate abillity to get others to open up to him.

Arsenal:

Shukketsu- A katana of about 25 inches in blade length, Shukketsu was the sword Shitsuren was awarded at his genpuku. The blade is a simple steel blade with the only defining characteristic being that its curve is about 0.5° less than a traditional katana, allowing for a faster draw. The guard is the only ornate part of the blade, the iron shaped like a mitsudomoe, albeit with the space around the blade closed tightly around it. On each circle of the tomoe is a kanji; falling, spirit, and mourning. The tsuka, or grip, is a simple piece of cherry wood wrapped in simple black leather. The sheath is a simple black one with no defining markings. The blade is worn on Shitsuren's right.

Jishin- A nodachi of simple make that Shitsuren made himself. It is made of simple steel, the blade measuring abou 46 inches with the tsuka measuring another 8 inches, making the whole weapon 4 and a half feet long. The guard is a simple round iron plate with the kanji for explosion on it. The tsuka and sheath are identical to Shukketsu's. Jishin is worn on Shitsuren's back

Suzume- This is Shitsuren's wakizashi and his most prized possession besides Shukketsu. It is incredibly simple, the tsuka being oak and about 5 inches long. The blade is about 19 inches and has kanji down its blade translating roughly to "Death of the Spirit leads to Rebirth". Its sheath is made entirely of oak as well and makes the blade look like a small cane of wood. Suzume sits directly above Shukketsu on Shitsuren's body.

Shi and Saisei- Two tanto that Shitsuren wears on his left and always wields together, they are Shitsuren's last resort weaponary.

Kiatsu- Shitsuren's yumi, this bow stands just over 6 feet, a little short for a yumi, but more than enough for Shitsuren. It is made of a strong bamboo that has been dyed a dark red. It is also worn on Shitsuren's back, just above Jishin.

Style of Battle: Maiagara no Ryuu

A sword style where all attacks focus on speed and fast footwork rather than powerful strikes or defensive positioning. The majority of attacks are small strikes with the edge or point of the blade aimed at the vital spots on the body, as well as the opponents sword arm.

Battojutsu- The technique of drawing the sword from the sheath and cutting the opponent, Shitsuren is able to draw his sword at speeds almost untraceable to the human eye. This style is usually used as an opening into a battle if it doesn't kill on contact. Shitsuren is able to draw all his side mounted blades in this style, each blades reach depending on the size of the blade.

Specific Attacks:

Reverse Strike- An attack where Shitsuren switches his wakizashi to a reverse grip. He then strikes as normal with Shukketsu and adds a spin into the attack, bringing Suzume around behind him and raising it up towards the opponents throat.

Aerial Drop- An attack where Shitsuren uses the force of Jinshin's strike to propel himself into the air and draws any one of his other blades and as he falls attempts to strike the opponent.

History: Working on this. Isn't really neccessary unless you want it.
 
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Ðari

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My bio is half-baked at best, its fine.

Location: The summit of an icy mountain. The terrain covered from head to toe in snow, vegetation is iced over even by a light sheet of slush. There is a gap in the mountain, somewhat round and snow from the ground up about three inches. The field for the most part is clear, just snow covered. The current temperature is about ten degrees farenheit and its broken into a light flurry of snow at the given moment.
 

Ðari

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Lets get the ball rolling.

~~~~~~

Arduous was the climb, and rich be the reward. Amidst the summit, a chest having already been sliced open and the contents raided. The elf-like man turned a watchful eye to the sky as the snow began to fall so gracefully into place. He cleared his throat, and took one step away from the chest and his foot sunk into a steeper sheet of snow. With a deterred look, he raised his legs and made his way towards the center.

His name was Daviel, but he was often referred to as link. By some whim of the sages, he'd been directed to this mountain to find this map. In his accomplishment there was a price to pay, it appeared every time. Looking up and shielding his eyes from the wind blowing the light trail of snow, he looked upon a sky much darker than it was moments ago.

A foreshadow? He didn't rattle his mind with such things, only shook of his distraction and began to search for the mountain pass. With the much darker setting, he'd forgotten where he'd come in, his tracks in the snow had covered themselves. Stranded with an erie sense that he'd always have some bad luck on his shoulders. He wasn't alone.

Like the climb up, there was treachery of the beast that roamed the mountainside. Wolves of white, the demons that lurked within the snow, their red eyes gave them away as they fiercely leaped into the fray to circle the summit's open field almost intangible to Daviel's senses. His hand reached firmly for the grip and hilt of Glave. Things began to complicate themselves, it didn't pose as a shock as the first was struck down in warm blood by the mortal draw.

He sighed and shook his head, this was only the beginning.
 

Perception╘Truth

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Sitting quietly in the cave that had become his resting place, the samurai took a deep breath a pulled himself into a state of deep meditation. For what felt like hours, but was in reality only moments, the warrior sat silently, armor giving him the appearence of an ancient statue. Then there was a flash of light and the temperature suddenly dropped to a degree he had only experienced a few times before.

"Of what must I do now?"

He stood, just as noiseless as before and picked up the weaponary that lay around him. Turning his body to the maw of the cave he resided in, he was suprised to see only open air and a sheer drop ahead of him. He pushed his thick eyebrows together, hoping that some hidden explanation would come to him. But no such luck. Instead, he would have to just test what the gods wished him to do.

As he moved to the cave opening, he realized that the drop was not up against the cave wall, but instead against a narrow ledge that ran past it. In one direction, the ledge descended and widened considerbly, fading off into an infinity of white and gray. In the other, the path rose and remained thin, but the end of it could just be made out from the blanched surroundings. He wished to go down, or at least his courage wished to. But he knew that it was the ascending path that he must follow, as vunerable as it would make him.

Subdoing his fears and gathering his curiousity into a wall of will, he moved his meger body to the wall of the cliff and began to sidle upwards. Going was slow, tedious and at times, painful. But he continued on anyway. He had yet to not defeat a challenge he had been given, and he did not wish to lose now. As he got closer to the top of the path, he heard what he thought was the souund of some demonic beast and then the struggles of a man in combat.

"What have I got myself into now?"
 

Ðari

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He could hear the sound of scowls, howls, and snarls as the vicious monsters of the snow lunged him. He made use of his shield, to turn and use the momentum to throw them into the other wolves. In their tumbling into the other, he broke into a run towards the blind side of the field. There wasn't any visible trace of the trail that he could see. Looking from left to right, he could just see the very tips of the mountain's ridges, which would point to the path.

Raising his head, intaking a sort of telescopic zoom he'd been gazing further up. There was a lone rogue, a soul that seemed to wander up the mountain. As he stood idle, he could hear the sound of the remaining wolves approaching. With his blade clenched and firmly grasped in his left hand he spun as their claws were imminent and tore through the remaining wolves to tumble over and saturate the white sheet with blood. His eyes of the same lust, lurking up the mountainside.

He'd been walking towards the strange fellow since catching that brief glimpse. He came to the very base of the climb out of the field. It seemed unusual to Daviel that someone else was up here besides him. His caution of having to thwart someone other than the wolves fed into his uneasy thoughts. Sliding Lenix from his back, he mounted the bow left-handed and drew an arrow from his quiver. Taking aim, within his peripherals range, he let the arrow fly.
 

Perception╘Truth

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Utter Whiteness. That's all he could see. The blanket of precipitation coated the world in shades of white. The samurai had fallen prey to one of the most dangerous parts of mountainous terrain. Snow-blindness. Stupidly, as he climbed, he watched the ground. The snow fall, in its unfailing blanch had made his eyes used to that brightness. Now, looking towards the dark part of the mountain, his eyes were taking forever to adjust. The light wind whistled in his ears, a calming sound compared to what sounded like a brutal fight down below. Stopping, the warrior let himself listen. If there was danger below, there could just as well be danger above.

All he could hear was the wind; light, sweet, carrying the light snow that had caused his current problem. But along with the wind, a soft buzz suddenly hit his ear-drums. It grew louder, louder. Louder still. What was it? The realization hit him almost as soon as the weapon struck the armor of his upper arm. The point stuck, but did not bury deep into the steel-like covering. But still, it was painful, and the jarring effect of the force made his arm spasm in such away that he almost lost his footing and would have fallen to his death if the arrow had not also knocked him back into the wall.

Grimacing, he drew the projectile from the piece of armor and looked at it. It was a strong arrow. His arm was already dead at his side. It would probably remain that way until the nerves decided to ignore what would become a massive bruise and begin to work again. Ignoring the pain, the warrior kept his eyes peeled, but away from the snow, and continued up the path, albeit moving a pace or two faster than the norm. He'd rather not death with an enemy on such a small slope.
 

Ðari

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It was low visibility, the snow acting like some of the most clouded fog. He'd merely been firing at the silhouette of what he believed to be an enemy. From what little he could gather from the moving shadow, it was evidently still among the living. It tickled his curiosity some more as he began to take steps up the path heading out of the mountain.

Each step, burying yet another one of his footprints in mere seconds. Shielding his eyes with his right hand, the wind began to decorate his arm and hair with a light sheet of snow. The elf sneezed and shook his arm before he wiped the mucus from his nose. He'd been approaching whatever was making its way down, so caution hung over him like an owl's watchful eyes.

He stopped. Looking no more than about forty feet away, he could make the silhouette out. Strange armor, rather tall, and bearing a sturdy helm. He was tracing his memory for this kind of practitioner. It hit him that he was a samurai, and holding much more promise to sword skill than a warrior to hero like himself. He leaned over with caution as he peered upon the enigma from where he stood, distant, yet fixated on him.
 
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