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Bloody Revelations     Arthur hadn't specified much, or elaborated on a preference, for grounds of engagement. In fact, he'd carefully professed little of either of those things at all. Something about "training for war, not the arena" and all. Of course, that opened up a lot of possibilities, but for entertaining the challenge, Bloody Revelations hasn't gone /too/ nuts with her irresponsible powers.

    For one, nobody has to brave the Labyrinth. It's difficult to tell precisely where the final coordinates are, somewhere under a rather bleakly grey midday sun, out in a rolling field of autumn grass, littered with the fallen leaves of countess gnarled, possibly dead trees, but it doesn't have that nightmarish, supernatural pressure. It's incredibly still and quiet, even including the silence of the huge black crows that watch in anticipation for corpses (which there shouldn't be today), but it's more like a spooky, inner city cemetary that nobody visits, in the middle of the day.

    Somehow, a space has been cleared in the natural scenery, where a wide section of the grass and soil has given way to a table of dark bastalt scored into gridded lines, ringed with widely spaced, square pillars of black jade, carved with a single brass skull at the top of each, and a little wrought iron just for kicks. A respectable distance away, a short, triple stacked partial ring of benches has been made of the same, in fanciful twists of what is thankfully just regular black iron, like extremely gothy bleachers.

    Bloody Revelations is waiting in the middle, dressed as darkly and eccentrically as always, only with the lacquered black scabbard of her sword planted against the ground, and her hands folded on top of the hilt.
Young Arthur The boy, for he cannot be called a man just yet, arrives clad in a tabard of purple and red, blazoned with the arms of house Pendragon. Half his face is covered under a steel helmet, and the fuzz of a boy just not quite capable of growing a proper beard adorns his chin. Chainmail covers his arms and legs. He stands a mighty five foot and three inches tall, and looks up at his adversary for the day, yet unarmed.

Then, a pair of retainers carries towards him a massive stone anvil, five inches thick, a foot wide and three foot long. A round shield adorned with the arms of house Pendragon lays atop it. The young king accepts the two objects with but one hand, rests the shield to his legs and rests the stone on the ground, easily revealing the hilt of a blade coming out of it.

"He whosoever pulls this sword" His right hand grips the hilt, "Out of this stone and anvil" he starts to pull, the first inch of the blade coming out, already reveal a radiance that would make the Wyld Hunt take notice. "Is rightwise born King of all Britain."

The sword is pulled out in full, clad in this light it's nigh impossible to see the sword itself, and the young king puts the stone it came from in straps on his back, then picks his shield back up. "I am ready, Lady Verminion, come at me as you will."
Leyanne Leyanne Mace arrives pushing... a very large mobile popcorn popper/peanut roaster, almost as tall as she is with glass sides and a striped lower section contaning the workings of the device. Workings which emit a slighty concerning whistle, along with the constant rolling popping sound.
She sets up near the bleachers and waits for both customers and the duel to begin.
Bloody Revelations     For Bloody Revelations, seeing Arthur stride onto the field in fine but ordinary chain and tabard is a cautious disappointment. Her eyes narrow and her lips twitch, even with his retainers present, at seeing a boy not quite ready to hit his growth spurt, arriving like that. When he begins reciting his oath, of sorts, that expression turns to curiosity, and then finally to something nakedly impressed, going so far as to shield her eyes against the glare with one hand.

    "That's significantly fancier than I expected." she remarks, not without pleasure, though at the same time, she looks at that light with a measure of suspicion, not sure what to expect from it. That might be why her opening move is to take a deep breath --one that seems to stir up a faint wind from nowhere that ripples through her hair-- and smack the butt of her scabbard against the tiles, whereupon a host of translucent figures rises from the ground mere seconds later.

    There's a dozen or so of them, luminous, pale blue, and partially see-through, but seemingly solid, all human in countenance, but haggard, emaciated, and defined by rictus tendons, snarling teeth and sunken eye sockets, clad more in the ruins of armour than functional equipment. They're like ragged remnants of battlefield ghosts, or perhaps the ghosts of starved deserters, twitching and snapping their teeth in agitation. The instant they spy Arthur, they all let off blood-curdling howls of rage, and descend upon him with nothing but their bare hands, practically foaming at the mouth, without strategy or foresight. They're much stronger and tougher than they have any right to be, but surely the Deathknight isn't expecting to beat Arthur with /that/?
Young Arthur Whether or not the Deathknight is expecting to beat Arthur with that is of little concern to the young king, for the blade moves long before they close the distance, and the light takes on substance, a sharp edge of sacred light that cuts forwards in a wave. Certainly, the wave can't hit all of them at once, thus his aim is such to hit their master along with as many as he can fit within the wave.

The others, he deflects one with his shield, and another finds purchase at some unprotected skin on the wrist that wields the blade. That may have been a problem, if the young king was like any mortal king, but his skin is tough like stone, and while it hurts him, and even draws blood, its effect is much diminished.

"I thought I said no-one but the two of us." The young king admonishes, though he sounds amused, "If you wish to do away with this rule, however, I'm not too inclined to deny you this." He quickly glances towards one of his retainers, who raises a horn to his lips but does not yet use it.
Leyanne Leyanne Mace leans against her cart to watch. She nods approvingly at young Arthur's sword swing, taking some fresh popcorn and nibbling on it.
Bloody Revelations     Arthur vs the hungry ghosts isn't even a contest. It'd be unfair were he even just wielding a normal sword, but where the light of Caliburn touches their ghostly flesh, their translucent corpus boils away like bubbling tar, splitting their bodies like a hot knife through candle wax. They shriek, they howl, they writhe in agony, and they claw at Arthur in what impotent fashion they can, but dispatching them is a matter of almost trivial ease.

    That'd been about what Bloody Revelations had been expecting. Seeing her ghosts bite it immediately, she is quick to get out of the way, leaping clear of the cutting arc of light by at least several meters, before tapping back down on the stone tiles a second later. "Ah, but you also said anything goes, right? I thought magic would be fine~" She looks to the retainers. It's really no matter. The hungry ghosts served their purpose.

    "If just the two of us your wish, though, then so be it." she replies, lips twisting into a smile. Her fingers reach for one of the ghastly white crystals at her belt, which she crushes by clenching her fist, letting the dully fragments clatter to the ground. For a moment, she is surrounded by a corona of bright sunlight, soft, white and pure . . . before it somehow peels away from her, melted away like a layer of frost, and replaced with a faint aura of deep shadow around her outline. At the same time, she touches one hand to the bizarre, black glass flower jewel at her throat, and a wave of inky darkness washes over her clothes, momentarily rendering them hole-in-reality black, before they start twinkling with starry points of light.

    Finally, she draws her sword. The sound emerging from the scabbard is the very traditional rasp of steel, but the blade is anything but normal. All that can be really said about it is that it looks like some sort of relatively lengthy uchigatana. Otherwise, staring straight at it feels like trying to recall something from a dream --like it's not really entirely /there/. It has some kind of matte black finish (or is the metal itself pitch black?) which turns to a scarlet hamon, but it somehow comes off as the mere suggestion of a sword in her hand, rather than a real one.

    It certainly works, though. Putting both hands on the hilt, Bloody Revelations finally shifts from an aristocratic posture to a battle stance, holding the blade level and out to her side, lowering and controlling her breathing. Any expectation of some Japanese Zen technique is immediately thrown out the window, when she flashes a wicked grin, her eyes light up bright red, and she practically vanishes through the space between herself and Arthur, like a streak of ebon lightning that carves at his side on the way through and past, spinning to face him from the rear on sheer momentum, leaving a sharp line of dancing black motes in her wake.
Young Arthur Though the young king is good, his reactions swifter than would be expected from any mundane warrior, he isn't quite that good, not quite that fast, and it's his unnatural toughness that prevents that initial attack from tearing out his life more than the speed of his response. He knows in an instant that he is outmatched, it shows on his face, before his face was without much in the way of emotion.

Now it has grit and determination. Not to win, he's already more than confident this won't happen. It's to make this into a fight rather than a beatdown, and to take away valuable lessons for the future. "Excellent." He states as he catches the blade with his shield, straining to hold his position under the blow.

Still in that position, he acts, he sword moves but a fraction, the movement nigh-invisible due to the light in which it is clad, but it's enough to send a small wave of cutting light straight for the tendons in Abyssal's heel.
Bloody Revelations     Seeing Arthur is still in one piece, the Deathknight gives him a purr of appreciation, flipping the sword adroitly from one hand to the other as she saunters into another stance, practically playing with it in the way someone only does when they've had a particular object for a very long time. "Ooh~ Not bad at all~ You're not an ordinary kingly type are you? It's rare enough to find them that can know how to properly use a sword at all, never mind with those reactions and that fortitude."

    The cheeky smaller projectile seems to catch her off guard in the middle of it. Even if she only sees it at the last instant, Bloody Revelations is flat out inhumanly quick on her feet. There's no mistaking her movements for anything natural. Frighteningly quick as her twist and shift is, the wave still clips her ankle, knocking it out from under her such that she has to spin all over again to hastily regain her balance instead of falling over. Where the pure energy strikes, Arthur can plainly see the haze of shadow about her outline, flare up against it, actively consuming the holy light and heavily blunting its effects against her.

    "Hahaha! Nice try! Clever, I'll give you that, but you're not going to really hurt me with half-hearted attacks like that!" The Deathknight closes back in, this time directly to Arthur's front, flashing up to him like a true horror movie ghost. Though her sword doesn't appear to be overtly magical, much less legendary in nature, the battle magic the Dusk Caste specializes in plainly flows through it. It accelerates to a barely-visible pace, whirling through the air in scything arcs of black and crimson. The air doesn't just whistle, but shrieks with eerily human cadence in its wake, and that of the illusory doubles that seem to proceed before it, ruling out that they might be afterimages.

    Though extremely, overtly supernatural in nature, it can't be said she leans on magic as a crutch. For an experienced warrior like Arthur, it should be plain as day to his eyes that her footwork, blade control, and balance are all phenomenal, and her stances and strikes are all perfectly executed by muscle memory, with no wasted motion. It'd be easier to study, perhaps, if it were much slower.
Leyanne Leyanne Mace lets out a low whistle after a few moments. She's got the ability to view playback in slowmotion, and she does so. "Dayum..."
Young Arthur "I've been told some legends about me in other worlds refer to me as The King of Knights, but nay I'm no ordinary king." There's a grit in his voice that makes it clear he's suppressing pain as he gets hit by the first of the afterimages, though his blade is raised in time to block the second, this throws him back. The boy has promise, but he is yet young.

"I have been trained by the Wizard Merlin, whose powerful draughts have strengthened me, but I admit, single combat is not my strength. For I am a King, not a Knight." He makes sure to keep standing, "I have seen enough. I am no match for you, and as much as I wish I could learn more, your speed is such it's hard to keep up, and your magic augments it to a terrifying degree."

Thus, he lowers his blade and makes it very clear. "I yield, Stand Down." There is a weight behind that command, it doesn't compell to follow, or even suggest any more than a mundane one would, no.

It merely makes those who would follow his commands more able to do so, and his confidence is on clear display, and despite his youth, in that moment where he commands rather than speaks, his place in life is clear. He leads, whether others choose to follow or not.
Leyanne Leyanne Mace looks over at the Arthur. "Takes a lot of courage to admit you're out-classed." She comments, crunching popcorn.
Bloody Revelations     Though it's a bit of a pity, Arthur lowing Caliburn is all that's especially needed to get Bloody Revelations to pause. She had agreed to a charmingly formal request for a duel, not proactively pursued a murder, and so continuing would be against (what she thinks are) her refined sensibilities. She makes a long, drawn out "Hmmmmmmmm." noise, but does eventually lower her blade, flicking it clear, and then sheathing it in a single, sharp motion without looking.

    "Alright alright. Fair enough. Commanding is a lot different from fighting and all. I have to say though, you've got some potential~ Don't slack off, you hear?" Finally, she begins tapping her chin, tilting her head in thought. "I wonder if I could find something for you that would help you out. I'm curious to see what you'd look like with something to properly go with that sword." She then puts her hand on his helmet. It's honestly a little condescending, but not in an intentionally insulting way. "Make sure to get big and strong too~ I already like you more than that other girl your age. Grow up really tall and built like an ox, and get in as much training as you can when you're not stuck staring at a map."
Young Arthur "I couldn't allow myself to slack off even if I wanted to, my people deserve a King not a Tyrant. If I am to lead them, I must do right by them, and how could I ask my men to fight and die for me if I'm not willing to fight alongside them?" Implied therein, of course, is why he needs to be a competent warrior, "And I know not who this other girl may be, but I've found not many in the multiverse learned to wield a blade the moment they could walk." This is not said in a condescending way either, merely a statement of fact. "As for something else, I'm curious what you mean."
Bloody Revelations     Bloody Revelations takes her hand off Arthur's head. This is probably good. "Good, good~ I hate weak men, and weak men with power are the worst of all. As for what I mean, weeell . . ." She takes a few steps back, and then turns to glance over each of the brass skulls staring inwards, before finally coming back to him. "It's all well and good to have a sword of destiny and everything, but if you're an important king, shouldn't you be taking more measures to protect your own life? You're clearly comfortable in armour, but isn't it kind of boring? Plus, you're using all your energy to guard yourself when I'm on the offensive. When you have a blade that powerful, trading blows is pretty much always going to be in your favour! What do you say? A new suit of armour? A special shield? A magic talisman? Of course, it's not really up to me to decide --the whispers will reveal their will when it comes to it-- but I'm /sure/ we could find something suited to a king destined for war."

    "That, and maybe I just want to see how you tick, just a little~" No further elaboration is given.
Young Arthur "The armour is just an extra defense. My skin is stronger than it is, and I heal quickly." Arthur answers with a confident grin, but then he adds, "Of course more never hurts, and I would not be averse to a better suit of armour, should it suit me and my strengths." He pauses, "And it does not rely on powers I cannot abide."
Bloody Revelations     "Ah, that explains why there wasn't a ton of blood." the Abyssal finally concludes, as if that were the first thing on her mind already. "We'll see then~ I warn you, it wouldn't an easy trip, but I'm sure that somewhere in your head, there's an idea of what you could see yourself wearing that you can bear, if you're willing to face yourself."

    Apparently she intends to just leave this whole basalt arena here for someone else to stumble upon. Metaphorically 'packing up', she makes sure to raid Leyanne's popcorn on the way out.
Leyanne Leyanne Mace is quite happy to hand BR a box of hot, jet-cooked popcorn, and some roasted peanuts to go with it. "Good fight. I'll have to download the view from my eye and play it back in slow-mo."