Phoenix Knight Club Battle - Anomaly vs. Akira (invite only)

[Anomaly]

Rain roars across the muddy plains, drowning out the sounds of the thunderous battle raging below. The world is awash with a dim, blue, early morning glow tinged by the light of sizzling bonfires and burning thatch. The fires raging, like the battle, already too far gone to be quelled by a simple storm.

Its too late to define the fighters by one side or another. Covered in mud and blood, men weave through the throng with madness in their eyes, cleaving flesh from bone and limbs from torsos. Already the wet stench of death hangs low over the battle field. The skeletal debris of what was once a town smoulders gently on all sides.

The invaders, of barbarian stock, had struck in the night, but had not counted on an ambush by the settlers. Though poor in strength, the merchant village was wealthier than any other settlement in the area. It was this reason it was sought as prize and also this reason that had furnished them their only defense. The mercinary band was composed of little more than theives and brigands themselves. Hardly noble, when it came time for the meat to be put to the metal, they seemed to worry more about their own hides than those of the villagers. But it was to be expected.

Now what few civilians had not been slaughtered and left to fester in the mud had long since fled. The storm hushed battle had now reached the stage of desperate slaughter.. the poiint where it was clear one side or the other would be put down without any kind of mercy. It was then that a shadow flickers in the smouldering ruins of the town hall. Flickers, fades, and then begins to shift from tottering building to building.

There is a strange, dark flash, and a knot of mercinary and barbarian warriors alike crumble in a bloody mess of spilt blood and organs. There is a wisp of smoke, the the shade flashes on, picking up speed. Heads are seperated from torso's so swiftly they are left spinning on their the stumps of spinal cords before falling into the mud. A black blur moves now, amid the battle, dealing death on every side. Above the hiss of the storm, horrible explosions can be heard as entire swaths of warriors are engulfed in flying bullets. Those closest to the dancing shade fall slashed to peices so cleanly death barely registers that it should claim them.

Just as suddenly as the maelstrom of death had begun, it ends. The warriors of both sides look about, trying to see the cause of so many of their comrades demise, lest it should claim them as well. All that can be seen is mist in carnage. All that can be heard is the ever increasing ferocity of the storm. Then, like a bolt of darkness from the black depths of a starless night, the shadow falls from the heavens, slamming spear first into the muddy ground.

Those closest to the epicenter die instantly from the shock wave. Those further out die in degrees, from being impaled by flying stones, weapons, body parts, or simpley by being smouthered in the avalanche of putrid mud. At the center of a large crater, stands a tall, sleak black figure. Not a drop of blood or smudge of mud shows on the scarab like exoskeleton that covers him from foot to toe. The body armor depicts the anatomy of a thin, but well muscled male, but not a trace of flesh shows.

Various belts, lined with impliments of destruction ranged from throwing knives to grenades, wrap around the figures thin waist and theighs. A rich, black cloak ripples gently in the wind of the gail as black feathers are ripped away from the thick feathered collar. The figures face is completely covered by both the armor and a winged half mask. One set of raven like wings sweeps towards the heavens while a second set of smaller bat like wings curve downwards to the nether hells. This man, this creature, has no eyes like mortal man. Instead a darkness that reflects the carnage all about is all that can be seen through the holes of that mask.

With a flick of his wrist, General Fou-Lu of the Phoenix Knights twirls Yanluo, the legendary gun spear. Ornate blades etched with the black rose, both of an ax, a spear, and a curving scythe sweep from the end of a long black metal shaft that composes the muzzle of the weapon. The motion shakes off the traces of mud and blood, leaving the blades gloriously shimmering in the early morning gray blue light. A deep synthetic cord cuts through the hissing storm. Any warriors that had not already fled, flee now at this unearthly voice.

"Tenold...I am Fou-Lu. My objective is the elimination of all those engaged in this battle. This is what I've been paid for. The time has come, Phoenix Knight, for our blades to cross."

The mists kicked up by the splattering rain are no impedement to Fou-Lu's cybernetically inhanced sight. Already he sees whom he addresses, though his knife edged voice booming over the plains is meant for all to hear. This is a formal challenge from one warrior to another. A test of metal and blade. A quest for blood and destruction.