Raid #96

There is certain abhorrence to living in the brightest of light.

Underneath that harsh glare, all that pomp and circumstance, there’s a hideous need to toe the line, to keep appearances, to always be the best a person can be. Worlds he had observed from afar were rendered stillborn, their development halted as their worlds choked by apathy and torpor. Why they chose to cloak themselves in light so blinding that they lose sight of everything else is baffling. In a perfect world, light would not dominate and choke the life out of worlds, leave them barren of progress and wealth beyond what they could scrape from their stifling mediocrity. Light scorches all it touches, much like how darkness poisons. Reconciling the two was a never ending battle.

It was the only life Gabranth knew.

In a role meant to dole out justice to those who spurn it, Gabranth could rest easy knowing that he was meting out a small dose of righteousness to ease his troubled conscience. Every blow of his sword was a bow of justice, every stricken insurgent another interloper who would halt history’s march with their lack of vision. It mattered not whether they are scum or innocents, only that their deaths contributed to the greater cause of the Empire. They were sacrifices worth delivering and Gabranth could soothe the black river coursing through his soul with these encouraging thoughts of light. Light begets darkness; they are intertwined forever no matter how hard each of their pawns fight to break free. He knew that from example.

This world was peaceful for now. Gabranth ignored the lands of shadow where threatening witches and black thorns reign and instead headed for the epicenter of overpowering light. He could feel in his bones the short-lived grasp of fire and shadow and could see underneath his helm its veins grapple the castle’s walls, never letting go until abrasive light blasted its way through. He did not feel the need to enter. He was content to gauge the apparent worthiness of this world from the causeway leading towards it.

After all, was he not a Judge?

His armor was black of soot and sin that much he knew. In his hand, his tools of war shone with cold indifference. It did not matter to it whether its wielder fought for salvation or damnation. It would cut and tear and destroy any other way. Gabranth felt much the same way. Light has shunned him, the darkness embraced is hatred for the world, therefore it was discord that he will sunder to the worlds. The forces of light think to swamp the worlds with their scorching sun. Yet the brightest light always conjures the deepest shadows.

“Who dares hope for a peaceful world?”

He raised his blade of chaos and felt the ambient Mist Charge into his blood.

“A false promise.”

He had foreseen much more than this sorry spectacle.

The castle behind him was a glorious edifice, a towering statue of rock and mortar, piercing the sky with its lofty magnitude. It dominated this tawdry, empty world as its lord and master. Surely the man who lifted it to the sky, the king who ruled by right of power, surely whoever that person was, he would lead the charge to defend his home? By any rights, any man would be brave and willing to defend their home, let alone their castle. No man should cower behind walls and doors when their very home was at siege.

But it seems Gabranth is to be disappointed today. He had brought no armies, no batteries, no siege machines, no drums nor flags beyond the one on his back. All that he brought with him was his tools and his guts. He was willing to take on armies, contingents of knights, any warrior willing to lay down their lives for their home. To find no one willing to come and engage him, instead relying on a burly boisterous buffoon of a bear man to defend its land, it as reprehensible to find such a stagnant and lazy world. Every man was accountable for his home.

It was an anathema to Gabranth.

The man looked like he could punch boulders into dust but instead he chose to hide. Covered by the castle’s shadow, his bulk shimmered into nothing. Gabranth would call him a coward but he can appreciate tactical move every now and then. He instead brought his swords together and let the Mist Charge around him once more. The worlds were always thick with Mist, even if their natives give it other names. It was almost comforting that certain rules were the same for each world.

His opponent finally struck and it was an attack Gabranth failed to anticipate. Four doppelgangers of the bear man appeared from nowhere, two in the sky and two on the ground, their fists all aimed at the armored Judge. The attack moved with such speed that all he could do was take a step back before the two on the air collided with Highway Star and exploding on impact. Gabranth was thrown backwards and slammed on the ground, his armor singed but intact. He felt his bones ringing from the shock but the Mist overflowing through his veins was more than enough to cushion the blow.

“Is that all?”

Gabranth decided to throw away all pretenses and brought his swords together. The Mist covered their blades and crystallized into potent, powerful force. Gabranth let the swords sing in the air as he threw blades of power to the remaining two clones, cleaving their Innocence apart.

Gabranth was home.

The song of swords in the air, the charged fury of the atmosphere, the frenzied pace of fighter against fighter, the gamble of lives thrown in the air, it was what he was bred for. Peace, Landis, all that was a fallacious memory now to him, a bygone blur of an era that he could no longer conceive existing. Why search for a peace that is temporary in the face of a never-ending conflict? All of his pontificating cannot hide the fact that Gabranth only truly belongs in the endless, scarred battlefield. He only comes alive with Chaos in hand, bearing down on his foe with justice on his side.

He was getting tired of his foes shenanigans. Preferring to hide behind a whirlwind of clones and fists was all well and good but that only meant to the Judge that he was afraid of getting into the thick of the fight, scared to see what failure will bring. A pity he could not be bothered to put in an actual fight but one must learn how to use the tools they wield to wage war effectively. He cannot fault his opponent for unsubtly raining blows and punches at the armor-clad Judge, hoping that one or all would disable him. As it stands, Gabranth would find it a terrible way to lose to such a buffoon.

Very well Let overwhelming force meet overwhelming force and better come out triumphant. The Judge would prove this hound had a fiercer bite than he looked.

For all his display of skill and prowess, Gabranth’s opponent was incredibly obvious in his intent, running and flailing as if his foe would be intimidated by such a display. Instead, Gabranth was content with watching as his foe laid out his plan of attack for all to see. Was he not tired of phantom clones? They were as weak as paper and easily foiled but it seems his opponent was content with sticking to one strategy and hoping it works. A shame then but he should learn never to expect much in tactical acumen from his enemies.

A hail of fists and fury he might withstand but Gabranth was not wont to risk trying out uncertainties in the face of battle. He brought Chaos Blade and Highway Star together, blocking the first initial blows before gathering the Mist to their blades and blasting them forth, casting Aero and blasting and unholy whirlwind unto his foe. The blowing wind was just a cover as the Mist gathered in Gabranth’s hands. His swords began spinning around him as Gabranth let loose a jet of powerful black energy through the whirlwind. He did not intent to prolong this farce any longer. Even if he had to drag his foe to a Fulminating Oblivion.

"Give up? How absurd. We've only just begun."

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Move List

Mist Charges- 0

Innocence- 3 posts

Aero- 2 posts

Fulminating Oblivion

In his mind, divorced from the chaos of battle, Gabranth felt at peace.

It did not matter that his foe was a bruiser hiding his moves through a barrage of fists and fury, a laughing buffoon confident in ways the Judge’s wrath could not duplicate. It did not matter that he was adrift in the oceans of the worlds without a cause for his swords to defend, that the country whose flag he bore on his back has left him for more peaceful shores, his young lord off to better pastures. It did not matter that this was the only worth that the broken war hound can find for himself.

When those swords connect against steel and flesh, Gabranth was alright in the world.

Until his opponent took out a crystal from his pocket. Until a shrill cry to the skies heralded the appearance of a winged devil, power simmering from its pores. Suddenly Gabranth felt the earth, the sky, the cold, blood-stained steel, everything just drop. His bones shook, his flesh crumbled but Gabranth was above pain. He was above such trivial matters as a puppet’s fury burned through his soul.

You dared?

The gravity receded back to normal and Gabranth felt his breath come back. His senses reorganized, his body still burning in Mist’s fire. The brawler might have thought to have finished him off with that farce but the Judge would not be broken with pretty crystals.

“You dare use a trinket of the gods?”

Gabranth rushed towards the bear-beast fool, throwing away all pretenses to the wind. To hell allegiance! Chaos Blade and Highway Star came forth, the Judge throwing himself into a Relentless Lunge, all vows of justice forgotten in his rage.