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// Throw this music on to set the mood....

~: It was another cold night, winter's chill seemingly everlasting on the landscape. The waxing gibbous above told him the full moon was near, also serving to illuminate the night as he strolled between the trees. The shadow he cast strode between the elongated darkness of the trees, the moon serving to paint the forest in monochrome upon the snow-covered ground. His boots crunched against it, uncaring of stealth as he went for his usual midnight stroll.

And a fearsome thing he was, walking with shadows in an armor befitting of their company. He's a muscular man focused on the strength of his arms and a stamina to run around the world. He is a warrior, whose physique shows a training in no trade but combat. And his garb certainly speaks for his reputation. Armor the color of midnight from toe to shoulder, a shield of the same black steel upon his back. Hung at his right hip was a longsword befitting this gladiator. But it was his face that caught the eye and struck terror in the hearts of the weak. For upon a face as white as the snow was a terrible thing that spared no amount of gruesome or monstrous.

This ivory white face wore upon it a mask of the blackest obsidian, the moon reflecting upon it's perfectly-polished surface. A piece of art...nay...a masterpiece from a creator who had befriended him so long ago. And upon this black exterior blazed 7 stripes around it's right eye socket. Stripes that were as fresh blood, slashed across the obsidian and arranged from the top of the forehead to the chin of the jaw. A hot exhalation came out between gnarled teeth, the maw of this mask only accented by it's hideous array of sharpened fangs. And so one of the actor's of this night's play was described...

And this actor could only muse that this night was different. In his mind the gears turned as to why..why why why did this night feel off? It was rather often he went for such a stroll, but it was rare he would do so in full suit of armor and as armed as he was. He thought of the wars and the preparations for such. He remembered the thrill of battle and the excitement...a giddiness he felt getting ready for conflict.

He felt whole for the first time, with no true understanding of why or how. His mind was restored and with that restoration came an elation at a great many things. The joy of clashing steel had returned at last, and he was quite content to be at the top of his game. And yet here was this night, spoiling his fun. Rotting the festivities he so wished to celebrate. It was as though he was born again, and free from some sort of shackle that had been holding him back. Damn those who spoke of the inevitable, he felt now more than ever his path was his own to set in stone.

But still it nagged in the back of his mind, that bit of dread. It was not truly fear, as he was a being that took fear and turned such into a weapon. He devoured fear and engaged it with bloodlust and hatred, overcame fear by smashing it into the dirt with sword and shield and boot. So what was it now? What could possibly ruin such joy at such a terrible moment? What did he feel that had so completely halted his momentum?! :~

"It's fate.."

~: He had halted a second before the words came from behind him. He didn't know why he had come to a stop, he only knew that it had been for the sole purpose of ceasing the crunching of the snow to hear that one simple line. What had possibly been a smile behind that maw of daggers became a scowl as he stoop tall, upright. He turned slowly on his heels to bring himself to face the voice and already felt an anger rising in him. Even seeing this person from the corner of his eye set his blood to boil, set desire to draw his sword upon him in his heart.

Our second actor has arrived on the stage. And this one is not too much different from the first, save a few minor details. His build is not as the first, more lithe and nimble. A mobile fighter who prizes dexterity and accuracy over brutal might. His garb consists of a pair of baggy pants and a quilted shirt, both of which are dark as the armor of the first. Upon his arms and back hanging down almost to his boots is a large coat of mostly leather make, but not a fabric leather. An armored leather, cut so it remains highly unrestricting for quick and precise engagements.

Hung upon his left hip are a pair of short swords, sharpened on one edge and straight-bladed. And one may surmise as those are the only visible weapons upon his person that he is very proficient with them. They are a pair, as deep in darkness as the blade of the first. But it is as we rise and see the face that the largest change of all occurs.

For where our first actor wears such garish obsidian the second actor sports the most brilliant visage. His alabaster skin is hidden behind solid gold beaming in the light of our waxing gibbous. And set upon it, similar to the obsidian face are red markings. But unlike the stripes of the first this one bares several different patterns and symbols; important markings to a race not truly of this world.

Not only that but the eyes and mouth are far different on this mask. If one were to take a mask of comedy and tragedy and toss tragedy aside you would see this face. It's eyes are upturned and excited, it's mouth a permanent grin. But the mouth behind it is not grinning. No, not for this meeting. Far from happiness, far from comedy. But the first actor speaks, that hideous jaw working in parallel to the one it hides. :~

"Fate?" He spits. "Fate is a joke. I've heard enough about fate to fill a section of Brandybuck. You know what I think about fate? It's horse s$*#."

"Then why so heavily armed tonight?" The golden mask replies.

~: And to this our black beast has no answer. For there is truly not one he can surmise that serves to answer in his favor. He has walked this path so many times with such little arm and armament, and only now had his chosen to walk it in full regalia for battle. And this only boils his blood further, and places red at the tinges of his vision. But he manages to compose himself, and he looks upon the golden rogue and makes for a point to this midnight meeting. :~

"I didn't think you'd ever come back. Thought you found everything you were looking for in your little paradise."

~: And to this the gleaming smile replies. :~

"Questions come up, even in paradise. Questions that need answers. I'm here to find answers."

~: And with that statement our actors both speak in unison, as if by one voice for there is an understanding that echoes through both. And they say. :~

Seek the truth. Behold the truth. Reveal the truth. That is the law and the whole of the law."

~: They both pause for a moment, having truly heard that same line come from the others' mouth. And for several agonizingly long seconds they both contemplate the meaning behind this moment. The first is infuriated with it, to have anything to do with the second any longer since they went their separate paths. The second however...simply sees it as an understanding, and gives a small nod and even a chuckle. And this further enrages the first, who bellows at him for information he does not grasp. :~

"What the f$%@ are you chuckling about, you little s$*@!? What stupid little reason do you have to find humor in this?!?"

~: And our aureate individual makes a simple reply, in stark contrast to the fury of the murky man. :~

"Simple really...I found the answer. It's staring me right in the face."

~: The dichromatic eyes inside the sockets of the golden mask regard our black warrior with a somber silence after that, and he thinks to himself that it is fitting that changes have occurred. Here now he sees one he took a separate path from...only to have their paths come colliding back into one another. And he can't help but wonder...what the immediate future holds. For he is truly in belief of Fate, and the stars have set his path. And they told him to be here, now, and find the answers he seeks in the soul of another. What a terrible hand you have dealt, Fate.. :~

// And next we begin to build....

~: Eyes lock as one has come to an understanding while the other comes up so short it is maddening. Black fists ball up in response to the rage that wants to let loose from inside that dark armor. Such outbursts however are meant for enemies. As the eyes inside that hideous visage pan up and down the frame of the other they study it so tediously. Perhaps not as sharp as the senses of the golden-clad lad but there is a keen intellect and a focus on detail.

So once he is done examining the other there is a snort and even a chuckle. Because as he has been studying memories are returning. Memories dredged up and returned to him, rightfully so, with the aid of friends and a loved one. And perhaps it is thinking of her that calms the savage temper that smolders in him. And he catches the tilt of the head of that gilded mask and can't help but reply with his own revelation. :~

"Hasn't that answer ALWAYS been staring you in the face? Wasn't I always the answer to the hardest problems? A tool to be used for blunt force when finesse has failed? What is your question now? No wait. Let me guess. It most certainly has to be 'Where did my spine go.' I'm right aren't I. You're wondering where your strength went."

~: Our coat-clad swordsman didn't falter in step, but there was a narrowing of the eyes at the retort from the black berserker. But that was all that was needed for the midnight-clad man to take a step forward, voice growing bolder with the hesitance of the one before him. :~

"So I AM right...when we split, we split right down the middle practically, didn't we... You took everything you had learned and harnessed in your time...and I took everything I had achieved during mine. Only problem was...when you dumped me in the fishing village you took more than you needed."

~: The voice of the warrior became acid, speaking of an atrocity committed against him. An act that had only been righted so recently. And he took another step towards his lightly-armored opposite. His shoulders broadened, he stood as tall as possible. A show of force, of intimidation, perhaps even a sense of superiority in this meeting. But he is startled as the comedy mask moves. It's wearer takes a step forward as well, aiding in closing the gap that much more between them. And his voice is just as powerful. :~

"I took what you didn't need. I left you everything you were, everything you are. You didn't need MY life to make yours whole. You didn't need my experience to bolster your own. And look at you now. You're fixed, or so you say. But in my eyes you're still as broken as ever. You may have all your parts, but they're in the wrong places. And so long as you keep thinking yourself the better of us you'll remain that way."

~: The distance between them is a leap or a bound, but the tension could be cut with a knife. Almost a tangible thing as the malevolent mask's maw parts in a snarl. It's owner does not agree with one word spoken from it's shimmering counterpart, and perhaps in earlier times would have immediately gone for the throat to drive it's point home. But still the fire is contained, even as it threatens to spill over and consume it's master. Instead of throwing a sword he throws his words, reckless abandon for those to truly drive a spike into what he truly now sees as an enemy. And it is a terrible thing he says as he speaks. :~

"Of course, I am the one who is still broken. The one who has settled and found a modicum of peace, whereas you're still picking playground fights. I'm the one who has a drive, where you've been trying to find a path since we separated. I'm the one who protects what he cares for most, while you let slip away the things you love never to be found aga-"

~: It's that moment when it snaps. When the golden mask is in motion once more, because it is rushing headlong towards the one who brings such awful words to bare. Attacking a moment in his life when he was weakest, causing not the one of fire and rage to lash out but the one of calm and calculation. In his right hand is the hilt of his upper shortsword, poised for a critical strike that has cut men down without a follow-up swing. And in a style learned from friends, and enemies, of old he draws his blade in one fluid motion and moves to slash his opponent from right hip to left shoulder.

But his eyes go wide with surprise as a metallic clangor echoes through the trees. Because in such a short amount of time, barely enough to even ponder how to stop such a blow the black gauntlet is wrapped about the hilt of it's own longsword. It has brought it only half-way from the sheathe, but it is more than enough to catch the blade in the shining-faced figure's hand upon it's broadside. And those eyes peer down upon the one who has made the first blow. Because both of them harken back to the exact moments this has happened before, for that number totals 3. But it is the first that rings true for both of them. And the jaw works again in speech, it's razor teeth clicking against one another on each word. :~

"Avanguard. Oni-no-Shizukana. Did you really think it was YOU who blocked that blow?"

~: Now the physical prowess came into play, as a bit more of that longsword left it's confines and that black armor began to move. Legs pumped, boots planting through the snow to find grip on the forest floor beneath. The midnight mask moved eerily close to it's lustrous counterpart. At this distance the dichromatic eyes of the one being shoved saw that it too formed a smile, albeit a very cruel one. And the mouth behind it was smiling as well.

The gauntlet drew the blade completely from the sheathe at last. A motion with enough force that it tossed the one it had caught back a few steps, putting some distance between the two once more. But the combatants wouldn't remain separate for long. The faster of the two drew his second blade in his off-hand, bringing both together and swinging them in for the armored foe's right flank. Once more a clangor rang out, this time as the black knight had unslung his shield, placing it between himself and those twin shortswords.

So in this moment both combatants, for that is what our actors have now become looked up to one another, eyes once more locked as they attempt to stare the other down. But neither shall ever back down. Not from this fight. They'll throw everything they have to settle a dispute so many years in the making. Begrudgingly they both understand this...and nod to one another. A sign of respect before the battle to come. :~

// Winner take all....

~: Surprise would be the best word used to describe the wideness of eyes. Dichromatic eyes that had taken in the sudden leaving of the ground as the body they were attached to had been physically hurled away. The sight of the opponent, distance growing before the owner of the eyes met the ground once more. What should have been a vital strike had turned into a complete rout, and impact with that black shield had been the cause of the momentary flight. But he landed with a cat's grace in a semi-crouched position, and he still retained both swords in hand. So he gave no time to relax, surging forward at phenomenal speed to close that distance made by the enemy. For that was the only way to see this one: an enemy through and through. The nemesis that must be destroyed...no matter the cost.

Another set of eyes, these set within the confines of a brilliantly black mask were not shocked to see their adversary back on his feet so quickly. So alike they were, knowing the intricacies of one another. Knowing the limits, the strengths. The weaknesses. Which made this fight all the more difficult. For in their time apart they had consolidated their skills differently. So they brought a medley of new and fantastic things to the table. Now he brought his shield up once more, weathering a rain of blows from a pair of equally dark straight-bladed shortswords. His own longsword hadn't gotten much use, primarily there to knock aside the offense of the other when it was most critical. Otherwise he just hadn't gotten to swing it much. He couldn't keep this golden-faced fellow back long enough to bring the blade to bare. He'd find a moment...or he'd make one.

The strategy had been working thus far. He had completely prevented his stronger foe from wielding his weapon by simply pouring on his own offensive tactics. Kept the black knight on the defensive until he could find a way around the greatest obstacle: this goddamn shield. The enemy wielded it with amazing precision, and he had yet to get a decent swing past the guard. He had to get it out of the way...but how? If he could only get his opponent to discard it willingly. A dangerous ploy; he knew the strength of this one. Superiority by strength...but he saw no other way. So he used a weapon he had yet to utilize: his mouth. For the first time he broke off contact, leaping back before taking a few quick steps. Then he let loose.

"I guess I've gotten a bit curious since our separation...I really must know. Since you aren't tagging along with me anymore what sorry sap are you attached to?"

That had the other stop dead from what might have been a charge towards him, a confused stare in those eyes. The golden mask continued, having seen the crack form. Now to widen it as much as possible.

"I mean look at you. You're completely incapable of functioning without someone to hold you up. You're a parasite. You were attached to me for years. Now you're loose in the world, but you're no different. Just a sidekick. A lackey. A little dog trying to play with the big dogs. What poor sonovabitch is stuck with you now?"

Fire in those black eye sockets. There was a red swiftly forming at the words of this insignificant little insect. But he wouldn't be baited. He would continue to stick to his plan. Wear down this gilded annoyance before finishing it off with a sure swing. But before he could advance it was talking again. And it's next words proved too much even for all of his will.

"Of all people I feel bad for Noble. He's had to put up with you for years. The real brains of any operation that one. And you've been nothing but a little extra muscle. Tell me. Does he feed and clothe you as well? Or am I wrong. Maybe he isn't your caretaker. You passed up one person so entirely...could it be. Oh man, it is isn't it! You're with the elf! That's why! Oh do I feel sorry for her! Are you her pet? Nothing but a dog begging for scraps under the table?! What a poor soul she is! To have to put up with the likes of y-whoa!"

He had begun to advance as he spoke, but found himself cut off as he finally found the tipping point. There was a feral scream that shook the trees around them. Caused him to halt that forward momentum to nill if just to see what was coming next. And what came next was exactly what he wanted, and exactly how he didn't want it. The black knight brought it's left arm back, let go of it's shield and with a quick swing of it's arm physically hurled the defensive plate edge-first at the taunting golden smile! The one wearing that golden smile proceeded to bend back at the knees, falling back as swiftly as he could to watch the shield fly inches over his face. It slammed into a tree behind him with enough force to become embedded in the trunk, but there wasn't time for that. He had to lean up, look forward and focus on-CrUnCh!!!!

That sound came as the boot of the black knight, who hadn't slowed a bit following the launching of it's shield met the golden face as it came up to find his nemesis. He found it alright, but the onslaught had just begun. The golden face. It was everything he was looking for. The only thing he had to find. The only thing he had to break! The sword came down, but it zigged to the left. Took the sword with both hands and swung for it. Felt stings and bites against armor, didn't care! It didn't matter! Both of it's stings came to block his blow, enough force behind the swing to lift the golden masked bastard off his feet again. Press the attack! BREAK IT!

"Break you...break you.....break you kill you crush you END YOU!"

And what was going through the mind of the one who had just unleashed the beast? Well, the one wearing the golden mask was suddenly wishing he hadn't pushed and prodded this much. Now he was landing blows, but just defending against the swings he had been preventing earlier was tiring him. And swiftly. So he attempted to get a bit of time in, to bring more accuracy to his blows. But for that he had to slow this juggernaut of his own creation. So he waited, began to jink and juke around that longsword and the clumsy but brutal swings being thrown his way. He locked it up with both of his blades as it came around for him, using both hands to draw it away and to the ground and to his right. His left leg came up, a terrific resounding CRACK! letting loose as his boot met the face of the more aggressive midnight monster. The head cocked to the side with the blow, but if he was hoping for a reprieve the golden warrior was sorely mistaken.

Hit to the face?! Pay him back for that. Make him pay make him suffer swing back damnit! And he did just that, letting go of his blade with his right hand as he turned his eyes back to his enemy. As his head came up and those black teeth parted. As he full-on roared at this little shit that dared strike him. His right fist, fingers clenched into his palm came up. With such speed and ferocity it had those dichromatic eyes widening. That was the look. That was what he wanted! And he connected, a violently impact that once more had his enemy air-born. Bodily hurling him away like a sack of manure. Before he even hit the ground he was moving again, rushing forward to bring on the pain!

He landed with such a thud, and he was still seeing stars from that impact of fist and face. Lost one of his blades, his right blade in the process. Had he been hit by a fist or a falling tree? Hard to tell, but he had to get back on his feet. He couldn't stay down. So he mentally willed himself to stand, his body following albeit shaky as it tried to heal from the effects of that horrid blow. Barely any time though, that black suit of armor was rushing at him again! He made a mad thrust with his right blade, watching it connect with the left shoulder-pauldron of his obsidic opponent. Saw it cleave into the armor, a gout of blood trailing as the edge found flesh beneath! But what should have been a victorious hit was a sad realization that he could have done better. Black gauntleted fingers wrapped around his face, temporarily obscuring his vision before he felt himself leave the ground again!

Got him got him crush him smash him cut him make him pay for what he said! Clutching his prey in his claws the dark warrior lifted him up, carried him forward without so much as slowing. He slammed his cargo into the first tree in his path, with enough raw force to cause the trunk to buckle and snap. Lifted him up as high as he could before bringing him to the ground. Hearing a gasp of air as he knocked the wind from this troublesome little pest. Looked down at him, eyes aflame with a burning hatred as he brought his sword up. To strike..and be done with this!

Blood in his mouth, tasting copper as he tried to catch a breath. He'd lost most of it when he hit the tree, the rest when he was back on the ground. But the claws covering his face had splayed enough that with his icey blue eye he could look up and perceive the next threat. Pinned to the ground the black brute was preparing it's sword, actually aiming for once! And of all places, right for the eye that saw it, to try and slam his blade through the golden eye socket, the face and the head behind it. Well, we can't have that! The sword stroke came, the thrust! The golden-masked rogue would have to make a sacrifice! He used his left arm, bringing it partially between himself and the blade. Moved to deflect it with his forearm and the minimal armor covering such! And he succeeded! The black longsword piercing dirt and digging deep, but he had to let loose a grunt, then a howl as he felt it's edge biting into his forearm.

DAMNIT! Missed?! How! Try again again again cut him until nothing is left! Rip him tear him slash him cut him kill him! But as he went to remove his sword from the dirt he found the wind leaving his lungs?! Because this little nothing, this golden shit had brought both of his feet up, tucked to his chest before both boots caught him in his black pectoral plating. Knocked him back, loosened his grip entirely from his sword and the golden mask he had clutched in his claws just moments before. He came up on his feet, but now he was moving again, and not of his own accord?!

He'd dropped his left blade when he took that sword strike to the forearm, no matter. He'd managed to disarm his opponent. Now it was his game again, and he'd play it out to completion. Because he still had one more trick. He was on his feet and running, but not away. Towards. Towards the black knight. To bring the fight right back to him as quickly as possible. He lowered his right shoulder just before impact, tackling the heavier foe to the ground. Before he had a chance to react he was throwing punches, his good right arm delivering hit after hit! He rained blows around that black obsidian mask, down on the shoulders and neck, anything he could hit! And he spoke as he did, shouted down at the one he was battering so thoroughly!

"Enough of this horse shit! I'm not going to put up with you any longer! I've turned myself around, but I guess you really are that part of me I don't need! Black and white, night and day! I'm good, and you're just plain evil!"

The next punch thrown was caught. Caught in his right hand, claws closing over the first of the golden-faced fighter who had just thoroughly jarred him. Because one word had snapped him from his blood frenzy. A word he despised so much it alone was capable of bringing his mind back to the forefront, if just to refute the claim. And with it came a renewed focus on strength. His left hand came up, fingers wrapping around the throat of his enemy. Squeezing, causing the right arm to try and pull back. He let it go, if just because it was going to try and loosen the grip of that left hand around his white neck. The obsidian terror began to rise, to stand. And with one hand held his other half by the throat above him. Their eyes locked, dichromatic irises in their golden housings meeting the normally dull irises in the black sockets. And he spoke...his voice trembling with the rage that threatened to return.

"Evil...You call me evil...for what I've done...for all we've done.... No.... You just don't understand. The world pushes us without mercy...and when some push back the world points...and cries evil. And all those people that live under it's finger point with it.. People like you...who will never know what that's like...well...I'm not going to give you the chance to know what that's like."

And he began to squeeze. Close his fingers in as tightly as he could. Choke the life from this speck of dust. This former problem. He'd won. The black knight had triumphed over this self-righteous little prick. He looked up at him with...pity. That a life would be cut short now. Defiant to the end though, words gurgled from behind the golden mask. Now he was curious. Last words perhaps? He...couldn't pass this up. His grip relaxed only slightly, and he drew the golden mask in towards his black visage.

"What was that? I couldn't hear...tell me...what is the last thing you wish to say to me? What does an insect say to a god?"

"...it says......Godslayer..."

His turn. For his eyes to widen. For them to practically fill the black sockets of his mask. As the right hand that had been clutching feebly for his own hand, crushing the throat of this golden-faced failure, dropped towards his belt and came up with an all too familiar form. A black blade, a skull of gold at the crossguard. Up only a slight way before it plunged downward. He dropped his charge, suddenly losing the strength to hold him up. Suddenly losing the strength to hold himself up. Pitching down...down....down to his knees, where he stopped falling. Still upright...but upon his knees...

Those dichromatic eyes had been studying, waiting, looking that armor over. Cool under pressure, even as he had felt the rest of his air leaving his lungs, as he felt the burning in his muscles from suffocation. But he had dealt with it before, and it gave him the training to endure. And the time to prepare. So when he unleashed his trump card his strike was true. He drove that black blade into a familiar spot; embedding it down between the bones that made up the left collar. Deep enough to pierce a lung from above, and inflict enough punishment to force him to be released. When he dropped he coughed, sputtered, grabbed his throat reflexively. Only when he was sure his windpipe was intact did he look up. To see the black knight just staring forward, almost completely bewildered by this turn of events. Now it was his turn to reply.

"I know all too well what that's like. I knew it before you were even born...but no longer. That time has passed..."

A somber retort as the victor of the conflict, with golden mask intact stood fully. He flexed his left hand, feeling returning as his ring worked it's magic to restore his vitality. To mend the wound that had it go limp in the first place. He walked slowly back, to collect up one black shortsword. Then the other. He looked back, noting his dagger, Godslayer, unmoved. He'd leave it there, a token of a life changed, of a past now set as such. He passed his opponent, who had not yet stood from his spot on the ground, who had not yet risen off his knees. But as he passed him he spoke, a tremble of pain and confusion replacing the fury of before.

"W..where...where are you going..? This isn't over....this isn't done yet.....we aren't finished....I still live..."

To which the golden fellow replied.

"Yes...yes we are. I'm going home...and I will never see you again. You can keep the dagger...As a memory of me.. I'm not going to kill you, because you have people who care about you...and you can go home to them. I'm doing the same..."

And with that he began to move, to head for the portal. His path clear, his duty concluded. His only ordeal now...to return to those he had so suddenly left...and hope they would accept him once more.

As the golden warrior, the seemingly victorious rogue headed for the portal the black knight stirred. For he too had been healing his wounds...but at a reduced pace due to the dagger embedded within him. Slowly, agonizingly the right hand came up. He took the hilt in his hand, and began to draw it from the sheathe it had made in his flesh. He did not scream, just grunting with the pain as he removed it...because this wasn't over. Not by a long shot...

// STAY TUNED FOR THE THRILLING CONCLUSION TOMORROW! (6/6)

// An end once and for all...

~: Trudging through the shadows of night, looking left and looking right. He followed the path of carnage that had clearly been made; splotches of crimson in the moonlight. Pieces of armor here and there. The black warrior's shield still embedded in a tree trunk. Furrows from swift movements and clearings from bodily impacts. An easy-to-read warzone, even in just the light of the moon above. He had grabbed up his shortswords, had left his dagger behind. He flexed his left fist, feeling returning to his fingertips. This golden-masked warrior had come out on top. Despite the odds. Now it was time to head home...to deal with the repercussions of his actions. The portal was ahead. The gateway to home.

He went to the interface for the portal now, taking only a moment to channel magic through his right hand. He places it upon the interface, allows essence to flow between himself and the portal's controls. No different from imbuing a weapon, at least in method. Outcome however was far different as the portal's panel became aglow in the night. He began to input coordinates, knowing his home by heart. Once he had entered in the correct symbols he took a step back, looked to the portal in preparation. A surge of magic as the symbols correctly aligned, and then the circular frame was filled with a soothing green light. He smiled behind that golden mask, and took a step towards it. Then stopped dead in his tracks as he heard it.

Breathing heavy. Blood still leaking in his mouth. Injuries weren't 100% healed. But he was walking. And he'd made it just in time. Eyes down, looking towards the ground. Holding the dagger, still wet with his own crimson life upon it's black blade, clutched so tightly in his right hand. Spoke, voice a mixture of a deep animalistic growl and cold disdain for the one standing by the portal. A voice that had the dichromatic eyes of the golden rogue go wide once more.

"GoInG sOmEwhEre...? DiDn'T I TEll yOu...WE arEn'T FiNIsHeD..?"

Standing there, eye of red and eye of blue so very wide at hearing the voice. Perhaps refusing to turn if just to spare himself from seeing the source. But he had to. So he spun slowly on his heels, until his eyes fell upon the sight. The monster, standing there in battered armor. Still leaking blood from his wounds. The bloody dagger in his right hand. Did he have a reply? No...not this time. Not anything he could think of. So they stood there, staring at this thing that hadn't yet brought it's eyes up to meet his. The green light of the portal bathing them in an earthy glow.

"...We are...you just don't know it...."

"AnD yEt..You'Re THe OnE RuNNiNg..."

Then the eyes came up, and the gilded gladiator took a step back in shock. The black mask, and the eyes within those sockets locked on that golden mask. And he wouldn't give this son of a bitch any chance now. Right arm moved. The dagger was in flight. He'd never been good at throwing weaponry, but it didn't matter. Sheer force had the dagger sailing towards the brilliant yellow face. And even before it reached it's target he was already at a dead run, to meet the enemy head-on. To end it once and for all...

He moved, mostly on sheer reflex. A burst of adrenaline to fuel the motion as his right hand came up. He leaned back, putting as much distance between himself and the tip of that dagger coming for his head, hand clamping down on the crossguard to stop it from impaling his face! He brought it up and away, to twist it and utilize it as swiftly as he could. No time though. He felt a thud that elicited a few cracks from somewhere in his chest, and taking in a breath became a lesson in pain. The black beast's shoulder had plowed right into his chest, slamming him against the frame of the portal. The dagger slipped from his hand, stuck into the floor of the platform built before the portal. But he reacted as quickly as he could, dropping both elbows down into the shoulderblades of the person who had crashed into him.

What had been his arms locking around the chest of the Rogue became limp noodles hanging worthlessly at his sides, a quick strike from his enemy simultaneously disabling both arms. But he had more than one weapon in his arsenal, even without a single blade upon his person. He brought his head up swiftly, that black obsidian visage catching the golden chin on it's way up. Smacking the back of the Rogue's head against the portal to momentarily dizzy him. He took a step back as the golden face drooped slightly, seeing stars from that clatter of obsidian on gold. The moment his face was lowest the black knight struck, his right knee coming up to catch the Rogue in the side of the head. Dropping him to the floor, buying him time. He began to work his shoulders, trying to get feeling back in them. So he could use them to beat this little golden bastard into pulp. Where'd that dagger go?

An answer came quickly enough. Shaking his head, regaining his senses the gilded little fighter took only a few moments, watching the midnight monster trying to regain use of his arms. But it should take longer, and he wouldn't give him the chance! He sprang up into a crouch, then launched himself for the warrior's chest! Right hand clutching the Godslayer so tightly. To drive it home into the heart! To finally end the nightmare! But then he saw the black knight move, shift out of his field of vision...and saw the arms moving again. Damnit... They circled around his arm as the dagger and it passed along the knight's left flank, biting in and drawing blood but not enough to deter him. Snared him there at the elbow, bracing so he could twist it in to try and stab the knight in the back. He looked up, into eyes that he swore held the utmost hatred within them. The next moment all he could do was realize he was screaming, as something broke like a twig.

Take that from him. Take that arm. Make it so he can't use it again. Not against us. Not against us ever again. So he did just that. He applied the right amount of force, brought his own right arm up to the joint of the elbow, to bend it in the entirely wrong direction. And he broke the arm clutching the dagger that had almost ended his life. But he didn't let go. He held the arm there. He heard the scream. But that pain was quickly replaced with anger, and the golden face was looking up into the depths of darkness upon his own ivory face. Then the Rogue started throwing punches, but those could be ignored. He didn't have the strength to hurt him anymore. Not without that dagger. He wrenched the broken arm, another scream. The dagger clattered to the platform. Another punch. He caught the left fist, held it in place so he couldn't annoy him with it any longer. He leaned in, the terrible maw of his mask separating as he spoke. Blade-like teeth clattered against one another with each word, a chilling accompaniment to his own voice.

"NoW iT's fINiShed..."

His broken arm dropped to his side, completely and utterly useless. His left hand was clutched in a grip that wasn't letting go any time soon. He felt a punch, felt a few more cracks in his chest as that armored fist hit him square in the sternum. Pushed until his back struck the portal's arch again. Black tinging his vision; a combination of shock and blood loss setting in. Those claws were coming towards him, tried to raise his right arm. Could feel it regenerating...not fast enough. The claws wrapped around his face, around the golden plate he wore. To protect his face. To be a symbol. That symbol was removed, pulled away. He blinked. Saw the interior of the mask being drawn away from him. Blinked again. Coming straight at him. Everything went dark...

The crunch that accompanied this impact was...satisfying....on a deep level. The black knight brought his hand back, the shards and pieces of a shattered golden visage dropping to the platform of the portal. He let go of the Rogue's left hand, the body slumping to the floor with little resistance. It twitched, it staggered. He noted a piece of the golden mask missing from the pile of it's remains on the ground. No matter. He turned. Grabbed the dagger up from it's spot set in the platform. Turned back to the figure convulsing on the ground. Crouched down, brought the dagger in. Let the edge rest on the throat...but it did not move the blade. He just stared. Blinked a few times. An end...once and for all....? He...smiled. And he spoke.

"..No...no...you..you gave me a chance. So I guess...I guess I owe you this once..."

The black knight slipped that dagger into a pocket on the fallen Rogue's tattered and brutalized jacket. Then he lifted the frail body from the ground, and looked to the portal. He chuckled, looked to the face that streamed blood from a head wound and a broken nose.

"...Isn't this a familiar scene...leaving someone to rot in a state of total helplessness. Fitting. Consider us even."

With those parting words he passed the loser of their bout into the portal, to be taken wherever the coordinates he had set wished. He watched the portal take it's charge, then waited until the green glow abated. Once it cleared, and the portal was inert once more, he stooped down. Picked up the pieces of that shattered golden mask. He gripped them tightly with his left hand, his strength returning by the second. Then he stood again, and headed back down the path of carnage. To find his sword, and his shield, and care no longer for the one he had triumphed over. :~