Flash of the Blade, Part 2 [Bastian/Invites]

[Cael Gladius]

3:10 AM
February 4th, 2012
Stygian Tundra

As the two men passed through the tear, Cael took instant notice in the change of temperature. The air was more than chilling, it stung the swordsman to the bone. While extreme temperatures weren't something he was new to, his preferred element in question was heat. This was entirely different than surviving in the desert. He would be fighting to keep his body alive here, just as he had years prior. Another test of willpower, only this time coupled with a test of strength and perception.

"I assume you're more accustomed to..." Cael stopped as he looked around, his boots crunching into the ice below. His vision obscured by the blizzard he'd walked into, he couldn't even see Bastian. The swordsman knew he couldn't be too far away though, they had passed through together. With a sigh, he stepped out further and summoned his sword. The flames that bellowed from his wrist momentarily helped him to see, melting the snow before it could reach his face. This was only for a moment, however. As soon as Honō no hajimari had formed itself, his vision was once more set back.

"I suppose I should have came more prepared. I definitely wasn't expecting these conditions though." He let out a short chuckle before shivering as a strong burst of wind forced him to step back. Cael scratched his head and looked around, hoping to catch a glimpse of something. Anything. Alas, he still couldn't see, for lack of a better term, jack shit. "Bastian? He stepped forward and walked straight into what he assumed to be the man.

"You wouldn't happen to have something to help my eyes, would you?"

[Bastian van Staade]

The Tundra was never particularly pleasant for a Hunter who truly called himself a native of Johannesburg, and its parallel, the Ashland; the frigid temperatures made the stump of his arm begin to ache where it connected to his prosthetic; the endless expansive fields of snow made finding one's direction a difficult enough task... "I assume you're more accustomed to..." And as the Gladius boy was swiftly discovering, apparent from the sharp tapering off in the end of a shout over the residual blizzard, the perpetual snowstorms of some degree or another made visibility a luxury that the foreigners seldom held.

"You would be wrong." The South African spoke sternly in a raised voice over the howling of winds that crashed against his face; he could make out the boy's shape, moving towards him, unfathomably, but that was it - beyond the extent of his own body, really, everything was blurred or completely shielded within this unrelenting hailstorm. Yet it was a double-edged sword; as much as one would find it so very difficult to track his targets, it also made the more scrutinous Hunter essentially invisible to some of the less-acclimatised Tundra Demons themselves. A ghost. "I bring myself here to temper my body and mind, but it is not a place I call home!"

The wind was consistent; though the howling noises weren't - and everything from a subtle whisper - that he was usually so fond of - up to regular speech vanished barely inches from the lips of the titan. He did not appreciate shouting. Too many times he had learnt - the hard way - to stifle and muffle his voice, for the more perceptive of Demons lurked in the dankest corners of Inferis, preying on the unsuspecting and the inexperienced. "I suppose I should have came more prepared. I definitely wasn't expecting these conditions though." Bastian grunted under his breath, knowing the boy wouldn't be able to hear it given their current meteorological surroundings.

"Therein lies the problem, groenkop!" The keyword had been 'expecting'. Expectations in Inferis - of anything - meant reliance. Reliance meant you let yourself lower your guard. And inevitably, lowering one's guard in a consistently hostile environment meant you got killed. "Expect nothing. These lands are harsh. They are the lands of the Devil. They will never be anything else. Plan for the worst every time you cross over. No exceptions." With all this talk of expectation and simply mentioning his lack of preparation in passing, how was he to survive in the machinations and gambits of an Archdemon?

The boy spoke once more finally. "Bastian?" A gentle thud did nothing to shake his stalwart stature as he saw the shape of the boy coming, slowly get more defined, and the swordsman - who was as good as blind here - shunt into him. "You wouldn't happen to have something to help my eyes, would you?" With a grunt, the elder Hunter laid both hands on the scruff of the youth's coat, and with a one-sided hydraulic hiss as the digits of his first-tier metal prosthetic wrapped around the fabric, gently - somewhat - pushed forwards, and, careful not to make it a full-on attack, tossed Cael back into the snow.

"You rely too much on your senses!" He shouted in bold proclamation over the howling, chilled, winds. "Do not!" That was simple enough. "It will be your downfall, Roman Cael Gladius! If the weather can so easily deceive you, think again for what the foul creatures that call this their dominion can do!" This was a lesson he had learnt; it was beyond that of the simple human-on-Demon combat that so many "prioritised" in their novice stages. This was not a lesson when it came to a simple exchanging of blows. This was a lesson in survival. Reliance meant you let your guard down.

Bastian continued moments later. "Cast your senses to the wind and ignore them, for here they can lie to you, and they can kill you!" Perhaps he was better at this teaching thing than he'd thought - if still a little harsh. "The only thing that will save you here, groenkop, is your instinct." It was the only veritable and truly reliable lesson in one's arsenal: when honed, as the boy's should have been. "Use it." That much was obvious. But with this, the one-armed colossus rose his metal arm forwards, and with his hackles up, roared an ending to his speech, weaved in with a challenge.

[INITIATE BATTLE THEME]

"Use it, and show me what you can do!" It was clear now; this impromptu evaluation of abilities would not be between they and the Demonic fauna of Inferis proper - but a test of mettle centred around a battle between the pair of them.

[Cael Gladius]

Cael's blade fell from his grasp as the other man shoved him to the ground. So that was how this was going to be? Just as his swordplay with Matiz, this was not going to be a mere exploration and demon slaying venture. Hurrying back to his feet, Cael leaped to the side and called his sword back to his hand. In a tuft of flame, Honō no hajimari did as it was told.

"You rely too much on your senses! Do not!" Cael kept his eyes on where Bastian stood, ready to strike at a moment's notice. Of course, he could only barely make out where the other hunter stood, and for all he knew his eyes could be tricking him at this point. "It will be your downfall, Roman Cael Gladius! If the weather can so easily deceive you, think again for what the foul creatures that call this their dominion can do!"

"They will do as all other of their kind do in my presence. Die." With that bold proclamation, Cael slowly began to sidestep around Bastian as to keep his own location a mystery. He didn't need the first blow to be dealt to himself here, it would leave him at quite the disadvantage. From what he was hearing he was already at a hefty one though.

"Cast your senses to the wind and ignore them, for here they can lie to you, and they can kill you!" The swordsman only nodded to this, keeping himself silent as he moved back another step. "The only thing that will save you here, groenkop, is your instinct. Use it." Another nod and another step to the side. He had to wait for the right moment to strike, he didn't want this training to start until he was sure it had truly begun. After all, Bastian had yet to attack him, the shove earlier was a love tap compared to what the hulking man was capable of, and Cael knew it.

""Use it, and show me what you can do!"

"Gladly." Cael whispered from behind the man as a sigil began to glow below his feet. In an instant the green haired samurai was back in front of Bastian, having used his flash step to move all the way around him, a spray of snow being the only thing to confirm the way he moved. His blade clashed with the steel fist, sparks flying off both apparatuses as they collided.

"Your words and hand are strong, omone. But one must prove their own wit in the heat of battle to be considered my master. Let us see how you fair against Matiz's training." He flipped backwards, and as Cael landed he shifted stances, his sword held now backwards in front of his face, body lowered forward as if ready to leap at his opponent at any moment. "Garra del Halcón."

[Bastian van Staade]

"They will do as all other of their kind do in my presence. Die."

Bastian was and had often been of the same discipline. But... "That is a bold sentiment!" He called out from within the blizzard. "But sentiment will not save you when the beasts come hunting for you here, groenkop!" It was soon then that with a spray of snow the boy arrived at his front, with the katana he had conjured raised and swept to the side. The elder Hunter did not so much see the blade coming as hear it; and triangulating a rough position rose the brunt of his metal fist to catch the strike.

Metal glanced against metal and sparks flew up, tangling themselves in with the snow. "Your words and hand are strong, omone. But one must prove their own wit in the heat of battle to be considered my master. Let us see how you fair against Matiz's training." Bastian grunted. The old man had given him a royal kicking time and time again. If this man truly held as much of Matiz in him as he claimed... then perhaps this would be more of a challenge than he had preempted. The agile youth displayed to his hulking elder a quick acrobatic flip before announcing a "change of stance" or something similar. Halcon had been a very... vocal combatant, in the same vein. "Garra del Halcón."

His body lowered forward imposingly and his blade flipped, it was a position and a stance of offense and one that meant that the boy could lunge towards him at any time. With a drawn-back snarl the elder titan rose his hand. "I am not your master!" Bastian growled; and within the veil of snow an incandescent light began to gather around his fist, held in front of him like a prosthetic vanguard waiting to strike. Within the snow it provided a beacon; and perhaps it would perforate even the falling hail and frost between Cael, and the light thrum of energy would attract the boy's attention. "Do not deign to make me your superior, Roman Cael Gladius!" The South African concluded.

The light soon began to change and morph. He had used this ability before; but only once he could recall. His true ordinary staple was the simple hydraulic prosthetic, but beyond that he knew, much like the boy, his own abilities could evolve and before longer would hopefully number many. "I will learn as much from you as you will from me!" For he knew that for thirty years now he had been hunting Demons with a simple metal hand and little more; and he wished to live for another thirty more doing the same, so his arsenal would surely have to start spanning further. "Do not concur your enemies' power nor doubt your own!" It was true; every battle, whether it was sparring or real, whether it ended in camaraderie or blood, was a lesson. It helped buff one's skills and strengths; acted as a platform, a boost, made them that little bit more aware and bolstered their willpower for it. "There are creatures of hubris here that feed on their own egoism and on their targets' weakness, do not become prey to them!"

The light had stretched the whole time it was talking; not into another sort of hand, but instead it had elongated; it had thinned; it had refined; and before long it took on a strange dual curvature barely visible in the obfuscating snowfall. "And letting them know the names of your attacks will let them begin to comprehend you, through fear or otherwise." And fear may have been a useful tool for Lucifer and his cohorts... but... "THE BEST HUNTER IS THE SILENT HUNTER!" Bastian finished his speech with a final bellow as the light around his hand faded and in the Stygian Tundra he stood there with two, rotary, toothed, chainsaw blades, each a time and a half as long as Cael's own katana, that stood stalwart and still in the cold.

As he rose it to the sky, the base of the blades first, he jerked back his elbow and a low petrol-fuelled chugging rung out. Before long it faded into silence; but was followed up by another identical movement, and yet the second dissipated into an echo. However on the third, the ruthless and consistent rumbling of an automated, petroleum-based engine - even though his arm had no apparent fuel tank - caused the teeth of the chainsaw blades to begin to whir and spin; and suddenly Bastian van Staade became one step less human and one step more machine, with a metal coating now lining from above the amputated portion of his arm to cling to his shoulder as a sort of improvised armour. Though for all that talk about "the silent hunter" this was probably somewhat contradictory; but he had a fairly good ratio of surviving witnesses to this particular tool in his arsenal.

A sharp inhale and he gathered all the air and might he could into his lungs; an explosive combination to say the very least. Before long he opened his mouth, propping one arm and the corresponding chainsaw on the other side up, letting the fingers of his singular palm open to the sky as he unleashed a harrowing warcry. "GRAAAAAAAAAAGH!" With that, he lowered his body, and the hungry, greedy, rumbling twin blades of the chainsaw in front of him, he dove upon Cael, revving his chainsaw in short bouts, audible to the boy and whoever else may have been within a reasonable radius of earshot, his brow furrowed and face contorted into a convulsive sneer of pure determination as he made the first, automated, chugging slash at the American's lower body. He would block it. He knew he would. It was what Matiz would have done.

[Cael Gladius]

And block the strike the swordsman did, catching his blade between the teeth of the man's chainsaw. The machination, unable to spin as it was constructed to do, gave off whirs and squeals which hurt Cael's ears, but he pressed his foot forward and held back his attacker nonetheless. Most blades would have already broken from such force, both from the South African warrior and the blades on his arm which wished to move freely once more, but his was a special sword. Unbreakable, just like the warrior's resolve.

"I call upon the second gate..." Cael managed to grunt out, pushing forward, his eyes meeting Bastian's within the snowstorm howling about them. Another sigil expanded outward from his sword, shining through the onslaught of hail and snow just as Bastian's transformation had done. The sigil seemed to melt around Honō no hajimari, and the blade extended, its hilt becoming a single steel square. "The lightning, it screams your name! Espada del Relámpago!"

Just as the blinding light exploded outward, his sword released a symphony of sparks against Bastian's mechanical arm. With his own roar, Cael soon found himself next to the larger man, having cut straight through his chainsaw blades. Luckily for the other warrior, he had veered to the left as not to mortally wound his new companion. Afterall, this was but a sparring match. A flash of lightning erupted from the sky, as if marking the swordsman's nature in battle. Then a smirk settled.

"Your weapon is made useless by my own." He turned around, re-entering his battle stance and awaiting the next attack. "But what weapon could hope to match against another which holds the power of lightning itself?"

[Bastian van Staade]

Two blades met with one with a majestic show of sparks and a mechanical whine as the teeth of the chainsaw blades refused to push past, Cael taking up his defensive stance and pressing forward with all his might. The Beginning of the Flame refused to so much as crack between the might of the automated metal sheets until the young swordsman cried out. "Hago un llamado a la segunda puerta..." Beneath the whistling of frigid wind the entire quiet affair was difficult to distinguish, but Bastian knew it was Spanish. More attack-calling. Did the boy not learn? "El rayo, grita su nombre! Espada del Relámpago!"

The glimmer of a fresh Evocation pierced the snowscreen. It seemed he was not the only one with an arsenal up his sleeve; a sigil appeared and in time seemingly melted into it, the blade transforming in shape, first; before the light then gathered, and released in an explosive calamity, temporarily blinding him as he threw the instinctive organic hand up. It appeared the new technique was more than a simple change of shape for his blade, unlike his prostheses. With all the heat and the cacophony beneath the whistle of fresh hail descending upon their battleground, Bastian almost instinctively ignored a massive loss of weight from his arm. Opening his eyes, he saw that with a molten, jagged, angular strike, the blades both had been sheared away; and what had been cut from the length of his arm had vanished back to whence it had came.

The titan growled once more as Cael cried out against him once more from beyond the icy veil. "Your weapon is made useless by my own." Perhaps so; but Bastian still had another trick up his sleeve yet. Just one more. The boy had his speed and his blade of energy, or electricity; the crackling had only intensified within the head-to-head glances they exchanged. "But what weapon could hope to match against another which holds the power of lightning itself?" So it was electricity. The man held himself upwards and raised the maimed mechanical limb; he could just as easily regenerate the full brunt of the rotary chainsaw blades once more, but it would prove redundant against the boy.

Raising his hand once more, the same glimmering light clung to it as had to his original prosthetic, and once more coated all the way from his hand up to his shoulder; but instead of elongating into a blade from his wrist as the chainsaw arm had, this time, the amorphous incandescence formed into a widening, flattening plate. It first began to widen at around his wrist; overlaying charcoal plates formed, solid and around six inches wide, but still able to allow him the flexibility of a regular limb. In their middle formed an odd, illusory conduit, glowing a fierce red; and it became evident what this particular prosthesis was, strapped and engaged to a slender metal hand of its own, as above the elbow, it widened, and became no pauldron: but a flat, large, kite-styled shield, with two circular points outwards each with small orbs to designate the "end" of the conduit. It was a shield.

The best Hunter was the silent Hunter: that much remained true. So the colossus, now fitted with a hulking metal shield to combat against the fresh, crackling blade that Matiz's younger student had drawn, remained without so much as a word slipping forth from his growling lips curled into an aggressive, superior snarl. The boy was good: there was much of the Maestro in him. But the truth in it would soon be found - was he good enough? Raising his shoulder and turning his entire body behind the shield to protect it, he first fastened himself into position and isolated the dim, dark outline of the American's figure through the snowstorm once more. He collected all the tension he could in his ankles, felt his muscles strain and begin to pound as he siphoned every ounce of his might into preparing the temple of fortitude he'd fashioned his body into, through exercise, trials, Hunting, and simply surviving in this inhospitable lands. Preparing it. Preparing it to charge.

With not a moment's notice he released all the energy he held back. Bastian van Staade ground the snow down beneath his hefty boots into a fine white powder, and, with barely the top of his head, flailing plaited ponytail and all from the well-kept short fauxhawk atop his otherwise-shaven scalp, visible above the ridge of the shield, with the plated rampart held before him and the conduit thrumming with a vicious soul energy that seemed to almost illuminate it through the snow, he charged upon Cael. Perhaps the glimmering light in the dark would be his saviour; but there was little distance to cover between them, and the improvised shoulderbarge had taken all of the hulking man's might into it: with the entirety of his energy he had pushed to accelerate at speeds that it would take time for even the swordsman to process. One thing though was certain. His "sword" had been damaged and proven "useless", by the boy's own terms.

In all its might and glory, through all the impacts that Cael could muster, distribution of force and the simple brunt of whatever sanctified or demonic alloy the "armour" was forged of, the same damage would be nigh-on impossible to deal onto the shield.

[Kira]

APPROX 3:25PM
STYGIAN TUNDRA


HOOOOOOOOO!!!! WHAT WEATHER THEY WERE HAVING TODAY!!  Her coat was zipped up against the little pellets of hail that slammed down from the skies above, glad that she remembered to bring gloves today juuuuuuust in case she'd need them.  She slipped those on, both consisting of black leather with warm plush insides that were soft against her skin, flexing her fingers to test her dexterity.  Readjusting her goggles a bit, she exhaled a breath and grinned as it blew back as steam that was already far past her.  Wowowowow, how was she going to see?!  What sorts of demons could be out that found this to be of little importance?  Of little restriction to themselves?  

Giggling to herself, Kira pulled her long legs through the snow, ignoring how her feet sank.  Her brown hair was blasted back around her head, her brown eyes positively GLEAMING as she cast her gaze about herself to her surroundings.  No tall structures from what she could see in the storm.  Not recommended conditions for testing her near gear.  Besides, Petri would probably yell at her….?  Blinking a bit, the taller woman began to straighten as the wind raged on her less and less, the pellets dissipating to reveal that she was, in fact, amidst a tundra of MASSIVE icicles.  Seriously, the things had to be at least fifty feet tall!!  She laughed a bit, immediately pulling out the triggers from their holsters as she aimed herself up towards the nearest one and pressing on them.  A tiny grappling hook on a thin wire shot out and embedded itself in there, a stream of gas propelling her up and forward towards it.  She adjusted her body so she flew straight, swinging in that fashion through the sea of the icicles rose up so high into the sky, snapping her fingers as soon as she neared the edge of them.  It took her probably about five minutes to reach the end of it, and not a SINGLE demon was in sight!  What was this?  

She let herself hang there suspended off of that last icicle, narrowing her eyes slightly as she could see movement in the distance.  But the sudden flash of light… Were those… she straightened up a bit and grinned, more Demon Hunters!  Probably.  She hoped so.  There was still some hail surrounding the pair of them in an almost unnatural fashion (but this was Inferis, she was hardly surprised).  She didn't see anything--- WAIT!  Coming out to the left near her…? Was that…? The wind kicked up around her, but she was already zooming off towards them, snapping her fingers as she moved.  There was a brief flash of light as her spear appeared in her hands, the storm swallowing her up as she went soaring through the air towards the ground.  

As far as anyone could see, a big hulking form was speeding towards the pair, squirming as it fought against whatever was on top of it.  Kira was clinging to the giant spiders back, laughing with her spear in one hand and the other clutching to its body.  "Oi oi!  DON'T SQUIRM TOO MUCH, I JUST WANT--"  She felt it push itself up, unlatching her from where she clung to it, her spear suddenly coming down right where its huge head connected to the body in two swift slashes, the body instantly having a comical tensing limpness as if this were some Bethesda game (*cough* Skyrim *cough*).  To the pair, they would see something go tumbling off and rolling into the snow beside their feet.  It was the giant spiders head, eyes still twitching until a gleaming blade buried itself into its head.  

Kira sighed heavily as she entered the edge of their vision, the storm beginning to blow past the three of them now, leaving them with only a light snowfall.  "I TOLD it not to squirm too much…"  She sighed heavily, blinking in some surprise as she looked up at the two men that stood in front of her.  Definitely Demon Hunters as she assessed, though she HAD sort of forgotten that they were there despite having seen them.  Readjusting her goggles, she smiled and waved before crouching back down next to the demons head, closely examining its eyes while the butt of her spear pressed into the snow.  "Hmm… Never seen these guys travel alone like this… Speed velocity had to be at least--"  Oh.  Right.  People.  She immediately straightened up and spun to face the two gentlemen, offering them a grin as she saluted them for some reason, "Hello!  Sorry to interrupt your duel.  Was trying to catch this little guy, but obviously that didn't work.  However, you should be aware that there will likely be more coming."  She nodded and unzipped her jacket to reveal the crimson shirt that lay beneath it.  

What was she forgetting…. OH RIGHT.  "Ah!  Yes, Kira Unterberger, at your service."  She had to get better at remembering these things.

Note: The storm is clearing up.

[Cael Gladius]

Cael was prepared for a counter-strike against this new addition to the South African's prosthesis evocations revealed. A shield, more than likely far more durable than the chainsaw blades he had sliced through. Still, from the looks of the defensive equipment, it appeared that it hindered Bastian's vision. He could have flash stepped around him and used his own force against him to continue this fight, but instead he did so to end it.

The first even to trigger this reaction was the head of some sort of giant arachnid knocking against his foot. On first instinct, Cael would have leaped back, but it was easy enough to notice that the beast had already been killed. Secondly, a woman appeared along with the head, examining it and speaking in a foreign language, Russian more than likely. Bastian wouldn't be able to see her.

Rather than allowing his new comrade to crush the unsuspecting young woman, Cael's sigil appeared beneath his feet, and in an instant he had jumped over the newcomer and kicked Bastian in the leg to trip him. Disaster avoided, the swordsman gave a shaky, slow laugh. The force required to change Bastian's course had been enough to put the samurai on his bottom in the snow.

"I'm sorry, friend, but it appears we will have to call it quits for now." He grinned and allowed his blade to dissipate back to whence it came. "I am... not exactly familiar with Russian though. Do you understand English, ma'am?"

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