et in over Lómëdor, it’s heat beating down on Termáre Dagor, more commonly known as The Battlestand. The spectators cheering and jeers melded into one roar as people shouted for different people that would be in the upcoming match. Today the match was a Free For All in which six contestants would fight each other, anything goes in this fight as long as it does not kill any of the onlookers. The fee to enter to be a spectator in this match was 50 gold a person. The prize would be a great deal more than that and the betting tables slowly filled as people flooded in a single file line. Several minutes of people cheering and settling into their spots amongst the crowd to view the battle passed before a man dressed in formal clothing approached the center of the sand-filled arena. “If I may have your attention!” He shouted, his voice was loud but not quite loud enough to pierce the roar. He cast a small enchantment and his body glowed with a brown aura. “Ladies and Gentlemen of this event!” His voice boomed and the roar slowed as the people paid attention to the announcer. “I would like to inform you of several things. First, we are not responsible for anybody being killed or injured if they are so unintelligible that they will disrupt the fight! Second, Presenting personal weapons is allowed in this fight but you should not expect to get your weapon back! Third, you may not attack the contestants in the arena with your weapons and you will then be thrown into the arena to fight!” The rules were plentiful but they were informative. “Now, without further hesitation I bring you a fight of spectacular force! These contestants are highly trained and may not stop during combat! You may want to get refreshments before the battle fully begins because you will not wish to miss a moment of this extraordinary battle!” The roaring continued until it deafened most other sounds. The crowd expected to see a tremendous fight and that is what they shall receive.

ay Yoshimitsu had noticed a sign that announced a Battle Royale with a grand gold prize. This greatly intrigued him and he looked around Lómëdor a bit before rushing in one direction. He found Termáre Dagor, the Battle Stand and looked around it. He found a man inviting people who seemed to have skill to join in the Battle Royale and several of those people turned him down. Yoshimitsu approached him and volunteered to join in the battle. The man gave a laugh and informed Yoshimitsu that this was a competition for powerful people. You do not believe that I am strong.” Yoshimitsu’s old ghost sounding voice said to the man. “Correct, you are quite small. But if you are so determined to be a competitor in this battle than I shall have to test your skills, please step inside, you shall be greeted by one of our possible combatants.” The man gave Yoshimitsu a bow and pointed to a door behind him. Yoshimitsu entered and was greeted by a dark room with torches lining the walls. In the corner a very muscular man noticed him and approached him. Once the giant man got closer to Yoshimitsu he swung his fist at Yoshimitsu’s head. He dodged the giant man’s fist and launched into the air, landing on the man’s shoulders. Yoshimitsu brought his fist down and hit the enemies head. The monstrous man fell to the ground and Yoshimitsu jumped off. “You are too slow.” Yoshimitsu said. The man lie there unconscious from the blow as Yoshimitsu walked to another door. When he entered through the next door he was greeted by a man who showed him to a small room to prepare.

A young man by the name of Bantorra had been staying in the inn in Lómëdor when he had heard of the Battle Royale from the old innkeeper. He told Bantorra that it would be glorious and impressive, and that there would be a grand prize of a considerable sum. Bantorra left the inn and started walking towards Termáre Dagor, the Battlestand. He felt slightly uneasy and restless, for good reason, he was going to enter the competition. He fondled the handle of his great mace for it's strength, it always reassured Bantorra when he did this.

When he arrived at the arena he was impressed by it's size and grandeur, the walls of it stood high, he looked around and saw a small entrance at it's base. When he entered, he saw a flight of stairs on either side leading to the seats, and going on straight was the battlefield, it's ground stained red from blood, everything about the place was primitive and chaotic. Bantorra looked to his right and saw a path leading into the area that warriors were signing up for the fight, he went there and signed up for the fighting.

After he had signed in, he wondered why he wanted to join. He disliked chaos, but he was about to join the definition of chaos, a free for all between six combatants, one of them being him. As he was thinking a small boy came up to him and showed him to a room where he could prepare for the fight. Bantorra looked around and saw that this room was much nicer than all the others, there was no blood or bones or any remains from a fight, for no fighting happened there.
"You wouldn't happen to have anything to drink, would you boy?" asked Bantorra as he turned to the boy attending him.
"All we have here for the fighters is ale, sir." said the short, small boy attending him.
"I'll pass, I don't want to get drunk before a fight for my life." said Bantorra as he checked his sword and mace, then he wiped the nervous sweat from his brow and awaited the opening of the steel gates to lead him to the fighting.

Lómëdor, it wasn’t where Merenwen would normally choose to be yet she was there. She had come to the city looking for a place to hide out and rest. Some may think that the city would be a stupid place to hide but for Merenwen it seemed right. She was normally found in more open spaces and so no one would expect her to be in the city. Besides, she wasn’t really hiding from anyone in specific, she was just hiding from life in general. She would wonder the city and pretend to be an ordinary person. No one had to know that she was a Guardian, no one needed to speak with her, she would just take time to think and pretend to be like everyone else.

At least, that was her plan in coming to the city. It seemed as if her plans never went through, something was always there to interfere. In this case it was a tournament that she had no intention of watching, let alone joining. She was passing by the battlestand planning to go to the inn and find a room when she heard the crude comments of the man who was taking sign ups. A young female, about 20 years in age it seemed, had taken the initiative to place her name in the running for the fight and the response she received angered Merenwen.

The man laughed at her and said, “Little missy, there are some things I would be more then happy to have you around for but fighting isn’t one of them. Little ladies aren’t made for fighting so why don’t you just head on home and let the boys fight.”

Upon hearing this Merenwen’s rage began to take over. The man had obviously spent too much time in a dark hole if he thought that “ladies” couldn’t fight. It was obvious that he had not been in the war and that he lacked knowledge of the world outside his little hole. Merenwen knew that if she walked up she would also be turned down, she doubted that even if she showed herself he would realize who she was, and even if he did she expected he wouldn’t care.

Then again, Merenwen was wearing her armor and could always change forms to join the tournament. She knew that joining would ruin her plans for relaxation but it was time that someone proved to this overgrown pig how mistaken he was. She just wished that he would be out there fighting; she would have loved to cut him down to size.


Merenwen slipped into a nearby alley where she would be out of sight to change forms. When she was sure that no one was looking she transformed herself into a 6 foot tall, 190 pound, man. She made her hair short and black and her eyes a piercing blue. The form she took wasn’t a muscle man per say but was very toned and looked capable of doing a fair amount of damage. It felt odd, being in a man’s body, but she would only be in that form long enough to get by the man and join the match. Then she would turn back into her normal form and fight as herself, she would prove that gender didn’t matter, that ability and courage could over power all else.

When she had completely transformed Merenwen once again stepped out onto the street. She walked over to the man who was taking fight sign ups and said, “It’s about time a good fight was put together. Sign me up and I’ll show everyone what real power is all about.” She spoke in a deep voice and gave a smirk when she was finished speaking.

The man looked up at her and grinned. “Man, am I glad to finally have a worthy competitor. Head on in; I can’t wait to see what you can do,” he said. He pointed toward a door at which a guard stood waiting to let the competitors in. She stepped towards him and without question he stepped aside to allow her entrance. Merenwen found it sad that they would allow her just on looks without any thought to whether she had skill or not but was glad that she would soon have the chance to prove their beliefs wrong.

Once inside a young boy, probably about 15 years in age, waved to her and told her to follow. He led her down a dark hall to another door and when he opened she saw a small room with candles lighting the walls. The room was empty but for one chair and that chair didn’t look particularly comfortable. Still, Merenwen expected the fight would begin soon so she wouldn’t worry about the sad accommodations. She stepped inside and the boy closed told her that he would return when it was time for the battle to begin. With that he closed to door and headed back down the hall towards the door heading outside.

He is in for a big surprise when he returns, Merenwen thought to herself. She changed back into her true form and examined her gear as she awaited the boy’s return. It seemed that everything was in order, at least as far as she could tell in the dull lighting. Feeling as prepared as she expected to be, Merenwen went over to the wall and sat on the ground. It wasn’t exactly comfortable but she expected that it was more comfortable then the chair would have been. She then closed her eyes and let her mind relax as she waited for the call to fight.

Silence, nothing but total silence! However this was soon boken as the sound of raging wind was heard throughout the grasslands of Arda where a figure was seemingly walking towards the grand city of Lómëdor. His movements were mostly covered up by a large black cloak, which covered his entire form including his face that was covered by the cloaks hood. Walking at the side of this cloaked being was a rather large dog of some kind, a Dire Wolf to be exact that went by the name of Kōtarō. The two figures continued to head for Lómëdor as the sun rose higher into the sky sending waves of heat upon their forms. With the heat increasing the large wolf seemed to being to growl while the one walking with him only let out a small ripple of laughter from his lungs.

It was another thirty minutes before the cloaked being and his wolf managed to get to the grand city only to learn that the city was holding a special battle on that day, a six person free for all to be exact. From below the hood of the cloak a smirk crept along the lips of the cloaked figure before he said towards his wolf, “Go to the Inn and wait there, they should give you some food and water. I will be there later on ok Kōtarō?” The Dire Wolf nodded before turning from its master and heading off in the direction of the Inn. Kōtarō knew exactly where the Inn was as he and his master had been in Lómëdor many times before, although most of said times it was on ‘business’ and not to enter in on some kind of battle.

As Kōtarō made his way for the Inn the cloaked being whom had spoken to him stepped forward towards the mighty Battle stands of Lómëdor. Once getting there he slipped his way pasted most of the crowd until finally he managed to get to the sign up area. Still keeping his form completely hidden the figure parted his lips once more and said in a dark and rasping tone, “I wish to join this battle.” The man signing people up looked towards the cloaked man and raised an eyebrow as if not sure if he should allow him to enter or not. After a few silent moments had passed the man said, “Well we do need three others so you are in, which name shall I sign you down as good Sir?” Hearing this reply caused the covered up man to smirk more before he answered the question asked to him; “I go by the name Hanzo Hattori, now if you don’t mind get out of my way so that I may prepare myself.” Nervously the man nodded and moved out of the way to let Hanzo by, it seemed like he had heard of his name before, which Hanzo rather liked.

As he walked past the man who had signed him up Hanzo was then greeted by a rather small child who asked him to follow him to the room in which Hanzo would wait in until the match started. Having nothing better to Hanzo followed the child and then soon found himself in a rather run down looking and uncomfortable room. A small sigh passed along his lips as he thought to himself, “You would think they would show a little more respect for the fighters…” With the thought staying in his mind the man known as Hanzo Hattori finally removed his basic, everyday black cloak and threw it towards the ground. There he now stood, his true form showing in full and his blue and golden reflecting what little light there was in the room perfectly.

While waiting in the room for his call Hanzo made sure he had all the things he would need in the battle ahead of him. He had all of his armour, as well as the rings which lay upon his fingers below his gauntlets and the large silver bangle that he had on each wrist to increase his physical power in battles. Other than these items the twenty seven year old Dhamphir Ninja had a dagger strapped to the lower section of each leg ready to be used when truly needed, he also had a magnificent red coloured blades on his back which of course would come in handy if it was really needed. However the weapon Hanzo favoured most out of his many deadly items was a unique weapon called a Kusari-gama, said weapon was a hand held Kama used for close combat slaying with a long chain attacked to the bottom of the hilt. At the end of the chain a heavy iron weight was placed to make the weapon that much more effective, Hanzo had used this tool in also all of his battles and thus had become rather skilled at using it. Making sure all of his weapons were held in place Hanzo, who was sometimes known as Silent Death, waiting to be called out for his battle.

With his face fully covered up it was always hard to tell what emotion Hanzo was having, all that could be seen of the young mans face were his eyes and upper nose arch section. Clearly a scar could be seen marking down his right eye and another across the bridge of nose, which showed that Hanzo had been in many battles before yet lived to tell the tale. Even know he did not like to show emotion to others Hanzo was still a little nervous about the battle he was about to enter into as since it was a six person free for all anything could happen! Hanzo would really have to think on his feet in the battle and maybe try and make an alliance with one of the other competitors to team up and take out the others members before fighting against each other. Gently closing his eyes Hanzo sat down on the rather dusty floor and crossed his legs over each other taking in all of the sounds around him and concentrating his energy together, he knew it would only be a matter of minutes before the true battle royale would being once and for all.

Daylight... he did not welcome it during most times. He often preferred the cold night to sooth his ever-scalding insides rather than the shade the sun created. However, he has spent a great deal of time walking the night lately, so perhaps this was a slight change of pace, at least for now. And fate always had a way to "smile" upon you when you had a break from the ordinary.

Today, Lómëdor's weather seemed a little warmer than usual, something Valafar noted as he wiped the sweat off his brow and flicked the perspiration away, accidentally splashing a commoner's foot. It sizzled and burned through his leather shoe like acid before his howls of pain reached the demon's ears, the people of the semi-bustling street turning their attention towards the agonizing man. Noticing what he had done, he turned away from the man, shrugging ever so slightly, That was not my intention, but it's amusing nonetheless.

Unable to endure another day of this city that was choking him with a constant vibe of life, the demon made his way towards the city gates, wishing he had gone earlier in the morning when it wasn't too busy, but he was... occupied with other matters. The past had no meaning now, despite all regrets or accomplishments, it was the present that held significance... and at this time, Valafar abruptly sensed a barrage of emotion; excitement, anticipation, ambitions... all centering on one place: the Termáre Dagor.

He knew of this place. Many fighters, warriors and gladiators gather here to battle for many things: money, freedom, honor, glory, or merely a passion for disemboweling. However, for today, it would seem that there was a six-man battle royal to be taken place, as stated by a poster Valafar spotted. He was intrigued to say the least, for he has not had a worthy fight for many years, and surely this event would beckon some fine warriors to prove themselves.

Deciding to take this offer fate has shown to him, the demon set foot inside the arena building, walking past small groups of people who eyed him suspiciously but he ignored them as he searched for the registration desk. After only a minute, he found the authority he was looking for, and stepped up to the table, pushing his spectacles up with a finger before speaking in a charming and benevolent voice, "Greetings. I understand that this is the location to apply for the event being held today?"

The man in charge of the registration looked up at the disguised demon, examining his blue and gold noble outfit and relatively weak-looking body, giving a smug expression before responding, "Shouldn't a guy like you be counting his gold coins or something. This isn't a place for the ritzy unless they're here to place a bet. Bartholomew, show this... 'gentleman' out the door."

Just then, a big, brutish-looking muscle man with a stupid grin on his face approached Valafar from behind. Noticing the hooligan, he cited, "Bartholomew, I presume?" But the big oaf wasn't interested in talking as he reached to grab the demon, but instead his arm was caught by Valafar and he pulled him in fast, thrusting his other hand into the ruffian's throat with a loud THWAP!, the force of the impact flipping him around until he landed on his belly, twitching slightly before laying still.

Turning to the registry fellow, he saw that he was in a state of shock, snapping to attention when Valafar stated in his unchanging charm, "Now, may I enter, or shall I use your blood for the access fee?"

Shaking profusely from fear, the man struggled to let out a couple of simple words, beads of sweat running down his face as if someone poured water on his head, "N-n-n-name, p-p-p-lease?"

"I am Valafar." He answered kindly as the man unsteadily scribbled his name down on a paper, waving over a small young boy who was also washed over in some dread of the demon. The child gave Valafar the notion to follow him and he did so, leading him into a small room before the boy said, "Wait and prepare here." With that he closed the door, leaving the demon to his lonesome.

He enjoyed chopping down those who think they're in power, it makes them see how weak they really are... eventually he'll teach the whole world this lesson, but that's in the far, far future. Unsheathing his hidden scimitar, his red eyes analyzed its pristine design before rapidly twirling it around him like a sideshow swordsman, demonstrating his fondness for the blade as it turned into a blurring silver smear in the air somewhat similar to a piece of cloth. He stopped his little act, boldly smiling, and laid it on a nearby desk, his glasses following soon afterwards. He then took off his upper attire before slipping his vest back on, fixing and brushing his white hair back with his hand afterward and his thoughts drifted to the battle ahead as he sat on a decently-crafted wooden chair. Who will he meet? Will they prove worthy? Only time will tell...

Yoshimitsu continued to meditate, his air shallowed and his heart beat slowed as he awaited the beginning of the battle royale. His mind was blank as he tuned out the sounds of people going through the hallways outside of his room and the feel of the stone ground dissapeared as he sat there. Finally, a knock on the door followed by somebody calling out for him and informing him that the battle would soon start awoke him from his meditation. He opened his eyes which remained hidden behind his mask as he stood and tunred to the door, exiting the room and following the young man down the hallway.

"I don't know wheather to envy you or feel sorry for you." The young man said as they made their way through the hall. "Why do you say that?" Yoshimitsu's old voice rang through his mask, he was interested in knowing all he could about this battle royale. "Well, today there are several powerful opponents, waiting for a chance to fight each other and you. It will be a fight that anything goes. Anything could happen on the field and the winner gets a grand prize if they live through the competion." There was a moment of silence before Yoshimitsu said anything. "Powerful?" His voice had deepened as he became more serious, his old tone had been dropped and he was on the verge of being beserk before the battle.

A feel of incredible power took the attention of Yoshimitsu from a room they were passing. Yoshimitsu turned his head to the room that one of the fighters was in and he let out a low growl. "I see, powerful people of enough power to level a village." He turned his head in front as the young man led him to a gate and left him alone, shutting the gate behind him and wishing him luck as he went to gather the rest of the fighters.