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"It wont take long" Do'Roelin assure him, though in truth extractions took quite a while for such a large amount of essence. Reaching forward with his glowing palm a smile broadened upon his features, for he was beginning to realize the truth behind the dengen ailment which this man faced.

It must be of the mind....after all no physical features were corrupted... I've yet to see a creation from a phase Erzelemmentes...this technique will be astounding. So unfortunate that I must remove his brain however...poor lad. A greed for power rising within him, Do'Roelin stepped forwards once more, attempting to remove enough space between the two to place his palm upon the wanderer's forehead.

As Do'Roelin nearly clasped his hand upon the man, he became confident that he would receive great strength from whatever technique he developed from this man's essence. Unfortunately for him, this particular subject was not so willing to be collected.

With a swift motion, far too quick for the master to phase his body, the wanderer caught Do'Roelin by the neck, removing his feet from the ground as he was thrust across the room. The master was fortunate enough to not discover how well constructed the wall had been however, for the phase he'd attempted to activate for the man's hand was now present as he passed through the structure. With a solid thud and a rather large amount of pain flowing through his back, Do'Roelin landed upon the roof to the building opposite.

"Blasted Erzelemmentes, that felt like Titan's Grip!" He spoke with anger, referring to a dengen technique known to give men the strength of titans. Lifting himself from the shattered boards below him, Do'Roelin leaped from the rooftop, levitating down to the ground below.

"There you are!" Do'Roelin roared upon sighting the wanderer. "Such a fool to run through the front entrance!" The calm demeanor which had previously been displayed seemed absent from the man now, the master having rarely faced such pain as colliding with a distant rooftop. It was apparent that the injury had taken him a few moments to become used to by the way he avoided a particularly bouncy step with his overly confident strides.

"Erzelemmentes, I shall not be so nice any longer." Do'Roelin growled, striking viciously into the earth to apply a familiar technique. The move which had been used to remove the warrior's blade from his grasp was now channeled into the earth, sending shards of stone upwards from the ground towards him. Many of the stones would fly past, striking new wounds into the old inn. The shower however would not ignore the wanderer, for many broad stones made their way towards him this moment.

With the charge of the warrior approaching, the master knew too well that he could not phase through every assault, and thus refrained from casting the phantom's path technique. Instead Do'Roelin weaved his hands about to create quick blades of wind, as if the gusts were made of iron.

Each new weapon he crafted would collide with the massive weapon, struck only once before each would dissipate. Unfortunately for the white haired man however, exhaustion soon began to settle in. Sweat ran down his brow as the man who was not so physically capable began to succumb to the overwhelming force of each blow. The wanderer before him was steadily driving him into the stony ground behind him, soon to have him upon his back for Do'Roelin was already struck down to his knees.

"As I kneel so shall you!" He spat, breathing out a great gust of icy breath. The cooling air soon turned to ice upon the ground before the master, becoming solid and slippery.

As his intended victim fell to the ground bellow, the heavy blade striking near to Do'Roelin's neck as it cleaved a thick stone of the road in two, the dengen expert lifted himself with the little time he'd brought to himself. Turning on his heels as if to acknowledge who was the better of close quarter combat, Roelin heard the sound of shattering ice bursting from this Erzelemmentes's strength. This one will be much more difficult to extract than the others... He thought to himself.

Rushing towards the other end of the street, the master smashed his fists into the sides of a rather unsteady building. The resulting destructive force of his favorite combat spell, the Burst Shot, tore the walls from their respective locations, the bulk of the building leaning ominously forwards. Do'Roelin then rushed through the doorway, the building collapsing towards the wanderer, shattering into a hill of dirt as it struck the earth.

From within the remains of the torn structure, the dengen master stared hard at this man who'd withstood a falling home upon himself. Even through the dust it was unmistakable that the man before him was far more resilient than any other he'd encountered in his time.

Perhaps this is the affects of the Erzelemmentes...Such a strong form would serve me well in future conflicts. He thought weaving his fingers about each other in a form of greedy habit. It then struck him that his foe was still standing...his foe...still...standing. Even after all the force which had been thrust upon him the wanderer lifted himself from the pile of rubble to pursue Do'Roelin. Something which he now knew would be rather upleasent.

"We shall meet once more Erzelemmentes!" He called, "But this day you've proven your worth to live...I shall spare you for now." His confident tone would not suit the slouched stance which had befallen the man, his heavy breath pouring out with each gasp. None the less he had not lied entirely, he would let the battle sit for the moment, allowing himself to further prepare.

OOC: Sorry for lack of posting. And this one isn't even going to be that great. sweatdrop

Safira slept more soundly that night than she could ever remember sleeping. After years of being plagued by nightmares, the mere idea that her problems could be over was a beautiful prospect. It wasn't that she had pleasant dreams. She dreamt of nothing. And it was bliss. When she finally woke up, her first thought was to leave. She had a goal in mind for the first time and was eager to get started. Which meant leaving the city. It was too crude for her purposes. She needed a large library and an array of scholars to help her. She checked out of the inn and quickly made her way out, pausing only when she noticed the destruction of a building. She was positive it had been standing before. She frowned, but her face quickly cleared. What did she care? She was leaving. She wrapped her cloak tightly around herself and hurried out of the city.

Mountain Troll
Ochiru Bache



The crowd roared with enthusiasm, as the helm of yet another combatant became bent inwards from the fatal blow of a mighty hammer. They howled with enjoyment as his body was sent flying through the air, lifeless and unmoving. Blood dripped onto the dirt and stone of the arena, and added itself to the thin layer of dry fluids which coated the entirety of the floor, a layer which often could be see flaking off onto the bottoms of the feet of surviving combatants.

“Troll, troll, troll, troll!” They chanted, as the likewise armored warrior sat within the middle of the ring. Resting his chin upon his fist, as he awaited the king’s announcement, Troll sat motionless and relaxed. Soon however, Arkadius Marchus, king of Aroch and greatest warrior of the iron kingdom arose to address the roaring crowds.

“Warriors of Aroch! You have watched this man climb since the week that he arrived, from a brawler without talent, to a true gladiator who has captured your cheers!” The iron king complimented the sitting brute. It was true of course. In the days that the Troll had spent since his humiliating defeat within the streets near the tavern, he came to a realization that he must be humble, far far more humble than he had been in the past. Thus he came to the arena, as if admitting that he needed to practice his skills of battle in order to properly train and become strong, and so he did. Within the week, by realizing his faults and training constantly to fight against them, the once bull headed mountain troll had become a cool headed warrior who constantly bested the challengers of the arena with his cracked hammer.

“Troll! Are you ready to face a special challenge that we’ve managed to obtain for you this day?” Arkadius offered. With a slow nod, the shattered features of the once clumsy brawler nodded below his helm.

“Very well…bring out…the hydra!” the crowd roared with approval, a blood thirsty beast arising to face their most recent beloved challenger. Typically if the champion could not compete with the chosen beast, Arkadius himself would announce that one must fight like a man, and would take on the creature himself, but Mountain Troll had no intention of allowin him this pleasure…