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And Roland's author almost kissed Clash for using 'pugnacity'. Well done. +2

The ability to muster energy in human beings is simply the will power to show their abilities against their personal worth. Basicly, one can acquire energy faster than usual, at the expence of their health. Think of RPGs for a second, and think of that one skill where you can turn HP into MP. Yeah. That.

So, Roland basicly executes that roll as planned, but when he feels the edge of the platform, it continues to grow, not even giving him the time to actually get past it and go for an attack. So, landing with a thud, Roland closed his eyes for a second, crossed his arms over his face and pumped his arms back, letting off a blue flash of light. Instantly, he seemed a little worn, though not horribly. His eyes were pointed right at Tacitus, and he was looking rather annoyed that he wasn't a lot closer than this. So, standing in this box, Roland stood, getting into the flow of charging for... something.

In the stands, amoung the crowds who have gathered to watch the fight for no reason other to see some pointless violence, sat a man who apeared in his late thirties, maybe even his fourties. His hair, although still thick and full, was greying. But to any who had known the man in the past would reconize him without a problem.

Clint still wore the same style grey long sleeved button up shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Baggy jeans that don't seem to fit with his age, and a pair of loose fitting sneakers. Cought in the past? Could be, but who's to say?

Having decided to check out the Tournement, X had looked over the list of people who were participating, he reconized a name or two, namely Jans Viper, and Tacitus Nusradai. Having met the two in the past, greiviously wounding Tac and having Viper say hello in an unwelcoming manner.

Sitting quietly in the Arena seats, in the front row as well, watching the fight with more than a passing interest.

The energy gathered by the smiling man began to flow out in a violent chain as the entire area seemed to begin to come to life under his power. The image of seeds began to dance about in the air, a wistful representation that would be an indicator to the progression at hand. Time seemed to flow as it had moments before in terms of the speed of motion and energy gathering, but a force was applied, a mass convergence upon the area from the energy drawn.

Tacitus came to a halt as the ground began to wear away around him, a platform of halted air molecules left for him to stand upon. The depiction of the seeds dancing about the air began to sprout and grow, shifting quickly into seedlings and beyond. In the blink of an eye the delicate flowers had whithed and vanished, the new generation doing exactly the same.

The arena was aging.

Everything in it was going as well, the ground was eroding out underfoot while those within were being aged horribly. The effects would be lessened upon a target with willpower, much moreso against a living target. This would mean that Tac would not be aging Roland, but everything and anything he had about his person. This also means that the regulation arena would no longer have a legal floor to stand upon. Oddly though, Tac seemed largely unaffected by the aging process, streaks of green running up his hair instead. His equipment was likewise unaffected, save for his coat, which dissolved to nothing in moments.

In a second blink of an eye the box around Roland vanished and a large gridwork appeared, glowing in orange. Tac gave a smile and an awkward gun-handed wave to Roland, "First to fall, eh?" If by some chance Roland would be naked by this time, Tac really wouldn't seem to notice. Even so, the armor growing around Tac seemed to slow slightly, but continued to grow, covering his torso from the upper reache of his neck down past the base, concealing his groin, the growth so far not yet travelling down the legs.