Welcome to Gaia! ::

((I''m giving you a chance to set the surroundings, something which can be used to your advantage. So far I''m rather clueless as to an environment. Its something that needs to be known in any fight.))

((I''ll be using one of my lower characters so as to ease you into the fight you''ll have with Torment.))

A high pitched squeal pierced the area, slowly changing in pitch and volume, growing deeper and decreasing in volume to become a deep, bellowing laugh. The very air seemed to be torn asunder as a great metal pillar in the shape of a long needle pierced the very boundaries of time and space. The Spire extended from the tear at an angle, dripping with a thick noxious ooze, which only increased in volume as a sickening sound like thousands of needles puncturing the skin at once rang out through the air. The Spire retracted into the tear as it sealed, leaving behind a battered old man, his skin littered with puncture wounds that all seemed to seal up before he could even stand. His eyes were black as night and his skin was a pale grey. He wore no clothing save for a belt, having no need to hide any ''bit and pieces,'' for he was androgynous in all respects. The stench of undeath was rife in the air, but the glimmer of intelligence could be found in his lifeless eyes.

His voice was as if needles were plucking at the very soul of anyone who heard him, "Pleasantries are for the living. I have been sent to test your strength, nothing more. If you should die, then your ultimate opponent will be only that much more pleased. Prepare yourself, for you never thought your own blood could hate you quite this much." Several bones seemed to crack within his spine as he straightened himself out, reaching back with one arm and flinging it forward with as much might as it seemed the old man, undead or not, could muster. He was far from being close enough to attempt a melee attack with this swing of the arm, nay, it had a larger purpose. Out from the foreflesh of his arm came several moderately sized Bone Shard needles, tipped in the same noxious black ooze. Furthermore, a large spike seemed to have grown from the wrist of the arm that had made a pass, like some form of buckler with sharpened edges.

((An interesting clash of metal and bone. This will turn out to be an interesting fight indeed.))

The old man didn't even move as the blade pierced through his hide and out the back. The noxious black ooze began to flow out over the blade, sticking to it and attempting to eat away at it like some form of partially coagulated acid. The old man was smiling, "You first mistake, sonny." He reared his head back and spit a globe of the black ooze at Zaroe as the bones within his body began to flow and wrap around the blade so it could not be thrust upward or forced down through the increasingly dense bonematter. A dim purple light ran across the old man's eyes as his fingernails seemed to elongate and a rash of sorts started to break out across his skin. The tips of each finger seemed to be soaked with either a purple fluid or actually dripping magical energies. whichever it was, one thing was certain. This old man was no ordinary undead abomination.

The old man wasn't impressed, pausing for a moment as the bone flowed with the chain saw motions and began to harden around the blade as a whole, one solid mass of bone. The electrical charge that pulsed through the blade seemed to do little, except cause some strain upon the old man which manifested in a rather comical look on his face. That is, until his right leg pulled up from the earth, revealing a long thin piece of metal jammed into the ground covered in his blood, though it did not seem to be deteriorating from the ooze. The old man grabbed the filament blade and pulled it from the earth, grabbing it with his left hand as it sailed over his head. The ground around where his foot had been was singed and burnt, he had grounded himself to the electrical charge with the blade. With his right hand he balled his fist, causing a layer of bone armor to cover it as a gauntlet before grabbing the blade from his abdomen. It would slip out easily, covered in a growing mass of bone.

The old man's gaze followed the ground up back to his opponent, "You seem to be prepared, sir. Though now missing one weapon. I debate telling you my name, because then you might have to take it with you to the grave. Tell me, do you think yourself worthy of knowing your assailant?"

((Because I have no bio to supply at this time I'm going to give you a synopsis of the character, so you at least know OOC that I'm not just making up random bullshit.))

((What is it about the abilities that confuses you?))

The bone growing around the blade held a large majority of the blade intact, even if it was fragmented inside. The small bits that did hit IV passed through him with sickening slicing noises as they exited through his backside.

He chuckled slightly, "Unless you're going to throw some more interesting attacks at me, I may well just have to kill you. In either case, I'm sure you'll be taking my name to your grave either way. Unleashed upon you in the fury of battle or whispered to you as you echo it with your dying breath, its all the same. I am Inferi Vulgus, IV to most. If you're quite done,..."

He lunged forward with the incomplete Bone Blade in a horizontal slash whilst the Filament Blade jabbed forward in an attempt to run his neck through.