Claiming The Shadows(LoS) RPG

Jean Lebaue was the legend and self proclaimed king of kings but as always he had other things going on. Called away he could no longer be apart of the League of Shadows something more crucial had come up. At the time much to Alezra's surprise the Cajun had no son or daughter in the league and while he might of had a lady or two none of them were a wife. There was no heir to the clan. Impero was a prime choice for the title of course, he had however fought Gambler and almost had Jean roaming around as a mad man. His allegiance was hazy the title could not just go to him. Sun Pao or his daughter were a nice call but they seamed partial to their current role. There was no way to be sure who wanted it or who deserved it so it seamed best to be earned. Tonight the walls would know war, the throne was to be open territory. To be the clan leader one just had to rise to the occasion.

Noir the hand maiden of Azrael had brought the speakers used from the KOV. Salem had helped run the tournament and won it a thing that made the Dragon of the League very proud. Tonight though those speakers were going to be used for a different kind of tournament. The Keresh that guarded over her by command of Ravek had helped the blood red haired beauty set up the devices. Readying for the announcement. It was the logical way to go about things, assassins fought for fame and power it was a piece of all of them this was the right kind of prize. Stage set the next command was made, to both Keresh and Symaarian forces.

The mountains became a unseen fortress snipers hid in mountain tops. Soldiers clustered about in fire squads, the occasional tank with them. Softly engines hummed as machines of war hung in the skies. They were not here to do anything other then keep people from coming out of or into the temple. If you were apart of the League you stayed inside the room waiting for the conflict to blow over. Or you fought, that was it no retreating or calling in back up it was just every assassin for themselves. Through arcane arts of the warp there was even a block of the more spiritual psychic and magic kind. Hellish powers adding a barrier against what natural guns could not oppose, They might not fight to the death here, still Alezra wanted to see them fight to the brink of it. Everything set in place the demoness tapped the microphone the sound carried throughout the entirety and echoing along the mountain tops. Loud and clear there was no sleeping through the speech just as the demon wanted.

"We were all recruited by primarily one man, sought his appraisal and joined his clan. As great as Jean Lebaue is though this clan is more then his dogs of war. We are each knights, castles, and bishops and far from measly pawns. As the King of Kings left before he had another Queen there has been a lingering questionability of what comes next. It is in my good friends name and the honor of the warrior I am that I present to you tonight the answer. This mountain is for the next twenty four hours closed off by all means as we raise are blades. You want a army, the ninjas are waiting your orders. You want money commanding these forces gives you the wealth of a nation. Crave power or a good fight there is no greater recognition then defeating the clan that crippled the Justice League. I for one am eagerly awaiting the one to come and oppose me. There is no better challenge then to surpass the ones you fight beside to be crowned supreme by not diplomacy or heritage but through blood. You are all apart of the shadow its time that you claim the shadow as your own."

Azrael stood on the platform just outside of her room, the cold winds could be heard as snow whirled about the mountain range. Her red and white kimono flapped about in the wind along with her long tied up crimson hair. From the dress the jade eyed dragon blinked the ink like appearance racing down to the ground and then expanding. Raising into a demonic dragon, a secret she normally kept hidden. It was just one of the many pets to the demon, here though she wanted no surprises just her and the blades she carried, So the dragon slithered to the ground and grew to its full size big enough to be ridden on and entirely black and comprised of a swirling black structure as if made of darkness it stretched. The demon raising the mike to the dragons lips as it roared at the end of Azrael's speech. A gong to her would of seamed a bit cliche, a demon dragon roaring though seamed just right as her final shout to the team to draw a blade.

The Shogunate listened quietly, his young face dripping with apathy. His eyes seemed unfocused, as if he were delving into the deepest of thoughts, his features statuesque, unmoving. The tips of his unnaturally lengthy hair resting below his waist, a minimal majority of it draped across his small shoulders. The white robe in which his torso was garbed in seemed a little too big for his frame, his tiny hands concealed by the garment's sleeves. The tights that hugged his legs were as black as night itself, and it's form was broken only by the child's shockingly white feet, revealed only between the strings of his wooden sandals.

His arms hung loosely by his sides, feet touching at the heel. Despite his diminutive figure, and the utter nonchalance with which he stood, it appeared as if the Shogunate's pure composure sang with royalty and beauty.The child's innocent form lead his enemies to believe him harmless; a joke. This played only into his little hand, the sheer effortlessness with which he dispatched life an unwavering testament to the raw and otherworldly evil which lurked in his icy heart. Its undiluted scent seemed to linger in the air, poisoning the atmosphere with its foul essence. Nobody quite knew who, or what, the Shogunate was.

The boy blinked his wide, ebony tainted eyes, poetically brushing a strand of hair from his face, the refined perfection with which he performed movement almost unreal.

"You are all apart of the shadow. It's time that you claim the shadow as your own."

For the first time since the incredible demon, Alezra, had begun speaking, the child raised his round eyes, blinking once. He watched the dragon come up out of the floor, swirling with thick darkness, it's blood-curdling roar reverberating throughout the interior of the expansive League of Shadows temple. The boy's features remained unchanged, his figure a portrait of calm. He blinked again, brushing another strand of jet black hair from his eyes.

Slowly, the numerous shadows situated around the large room began to slip away from their owners, as well as the nooks and crannies of the Monastery. The child was one of the only elite members of the League currently situated within the large temple, the remainder of his squad members spread out across the Himalayan base of operations. Besides the boy and a few other beings, the large room was filled to the brim with shinobi shozoku clad warriors, each listening to the demon queen's words with trained obedience. With each syllable, they grew more excited, every individual sensing an opportunity to succeed the other. Shogunate stood at the back of them all, silent and poised as ever. Slowly, each of the assassins' shadows slipped away from them, crawling precariously across the stainless floor, pooling along with all of it's brethren, right beneath the feet of the Shogunate. He was sure every single one of the perceptive murderers would realize the subtle alternation in the brightness of the temple, as they should. It mattered not. The boy closed his eyes slowly, pale hand rising to his face, moving a stray piece of his hair from his features, tucking it behind his ear. He exhaled quietly, disinterestedly speaking beneath his breath as pandemonium was born.

"Che... Let it begin."

With dimly lit candles artistically positioned around the elegant Emperor in a wide circle, a rather deep session of meditation was steadily taking place. Tapping into the colossal reserves of his inner chi, he beautifully harmonized with the ambient external chi of his immediate environment. His iconic mask resting eerily before him as the hood of his dark militaristic attire cast a looming shadow over his flawless face. Since the conclusion of his brief yet eventful battle with Jean, it was clear that the legendary Cajun's intentions of resuming his position as leader of this elusive guild of assassins had all but withered to nothingness. Jean's unanticipated decision to relinquish the responsibilities of leading the lethal League of Shadows was an unforeseen turn of events. And while mysterious Impero himself had patiently waited for anarchy to descend onto the League of Shadows' prestigious monastery, nothing to his surprise had occurred.

However, it was not baffling to him that the Living Legend left without appointing a proper leader for the deadly assassins, perhaps the potential chaos of a leaderless League of Shadows was too entertaining a possibility for him to ignore, or perhaps it was a simple matter of no longer having any concern for the feared organization of masterclass assassins. Recent meetings with Jean in Iberia had given enigmatic Impero some insight on his rival's decision to cut all ties with the League, and to his lack of surprise, Jean's reasons were quite plausible. But of course, there would come the time when an attempt to claim leadership of the guild would occur, the Nefarious Neutral however, wondered who would bring about the commencement of such a situation. As the candlelight flickered erratically, the Witch-Hunter Grandmaster had reached the conclusion of a three hour-long session of meditation. Distinctly colored eyes pierced the room as his eyelids lifted. Calmly setting his foreboding eyes onto the expressionless mask sitting a mere foot away from, the deadly strategist calmly reached for it, briefly admiring the unique markings and aesthetic craftsmanship of his alabaster mask.

Gently putting the symbolic mask on, Impero calmly glanced over at the twin ebony Chinese straight swords that rested gently beside him, their blades crafted from the self-developed and incredibly difficult and costly to make metal, Trion. Prior to any following thoughts, a recognizable feminine voice echoed across the League of Shadows' prestigious monastery. To his surprise, it was Alezra, the demon-queen who had ignited the undying flames of desire within the ambitious members of the assassins' guild. Her verbal announcement of a battle in order to determine the organization's rightful leader was certain to incite powerful delusions of grandeur in many. Remaining true to her unorthodox nature, rather than the cliche use an ominous gong to make clear the unquestionable commencement of the battle, she instead opted for the fiery roar of a mythological dragon. "It seems that things are finally getting interesting", he thought to himself, still seated in the center of a fiery circle. While quite confident in his own capabilities, especially as he has yet to display their full extent and deadliness, attempting to do this on his own would be undeniably foolish.

While indeed a martial arts grandmaster of rare caliber, cunning Impero was still prominently a puppeteer and schemer, one who prefers to plan for such drastic events rather than leap into action without any prior preparation. His time with the League has enabled him to collect some information on the abilities of certain members, most recently the powerful child Shogunate who apathetically showcased his impressive selection of powers before him. Utilizing either the communications technology of his intricately constructed mask, Impero contacts his beloved daughter, Kratesis. "Kratesis my dear. Come see me in the monastery. There is something of interest you may care for", he concludes before directing his following message to fellow League member, Fowler. "Mr. Fowler, I may require your aid". Calmly reaching for his twin Trion swords, he sheathes them onto his back and waits for the arrival of his requested allies.

For the moment Red was doing his best to keep his head straight and get in some good practice for the upcoming battle, but damn it's hard to keep you mind straight when you're about to face off against some one like Impero. *what's even under that mask of his. He's probably part shark part bull for Pete's-sake. My katana isn't made for cutting through SharktaBull man* Red thought to himself. The joke was dumb sure, but at least the small chuckle he got from it distracted him from the anxiety he felt going into the plumbing fest. Soon of course play time was over and he had to dawn his work suit once more and prepare to take on whatever came his way out there.

While he was basically being debriefed on the whole situation by the intimidating Alezra, Red did a little scan of who he was about to put his skills to the test against. Red was relatively new to the team so he didn't exactly know each member as much as he had hoped he would going into this battle, so getting a good feel of what he was up against at this point could make all the difference between success and total failure as you could guess. When the whole detailing of the event was over he pulled out his katana and inspected it making sure is was at hair splitting sharpness, once he could confirm it in fact was he sheathed his blade on his back and whispered to himself rather confidently "Lets get this show on the road."

"Theatrics huh?" A somewhat eerily sane and calm Marcus Withers said to the poisoned assassin that sat in the small child's seat beside the bed. The demon girl's message had just finished with a thunderous roar from a beast of myth. "Well it seems its my time has ended," With that said the eyes of the well dressed individual began to glow. Great energy pushed out from his pores, creating a bone crushing pressure in the immediate vicinity that ravaged the fatally wounded assassin's carcass. His once tame brown hair became a loosely disheveled shade of ivory. The suave designer suit was replaced by a form fitting black outfit with blue lightning streaks made of an unearthly skin like material. His muscular figure was accentuated by the new choice in clothing and his eyes continued to glow with a crazed grin keeping them company. "Claiming shadows? Fuck that! I want the Glory." The Glorious cackled upon his return to the conscious mind of the body he shared with another, more civilized being. He spat on the body of the assassin as he stepped over it, entering the corridor.

The halls were filled with blood. Not only had the premier members of the League been invited to battle but the entire facilities lackeys felt they could make the same claim. Swords clashed as the men and women met one another in mortal combat, never realizing that not even the greatest among them could stand a chance in the battles that were to come. The stench of chaos filled the air and the Glorious saturated his lungs with it. White light appeared in a violent vortex around his figure and he hovered off the ground. A lone shadow killer dropped from the ceiling above the Glorious. His blade barreled towards the maniac who was oblivious to his presence. His approach was superb, silent and unsuspected. Just as the tip of the blade was about to connect with the Glorious white tendrils extended from his aura, grasping the assassin in their clutches. Black energy coiled around the tendrils as it flowed from the captured body, blending well wit the once white vortex. The body was cast aside once the process was completely and the Glorious continued through the halls, repeating the attack as he came into contact with the grunts.

"This is BORING! HEY! Is everyone hiding in their rooms? Well we can't have that." The Glorious transformed into form of pure energy, his speed immeasurable he seemingly teleported to the outside, hovering above the monastery. "Now let's pop the hood." Glorious reclaimed his physical form and the tentacles sprung from his vortex of puissance once again four in count. They penetrated the ceiling and curved the inner tips like hooks in for key spots on the structure's covering. With a forceful tug the roof was lifted off the building and tossed casually across the long mountain range. The Glorious' eyes widened with excitement as he gazed down at the infighting and saw more blood splatter along the now damaged walls. He smiled wide, then looked up. The rain fell, but was impeded by an invisible force field. "Well the weather did say thunderstorms.." Flailing his arms heavily the Glorious began sending charges bolts of lightning down upon the monastery in all directions, rapid fire. The energy bounced and ricocheted causing widespread damage in a small amount of time as the vicious warrior's cacophony of laughter rang out in the skies.

Fowler was at the same cave he was in when the battle with Kratesis commences; the bioborg is in solitude as the rest of his team waits out in other sub burrows. The super smashing machine does a series of warm ups which shook the internal foundation of the mountains while holding back. Aerobics started by running laps throughout every conceivable surface of the caverns, starting from a normal horizontal to upside down angles which humans cannot replicate. Keeping himself accounted for an opponent that may arise from unconventional situations, and connected with stretching that includes dislocating every bone joint and re-morphing his body structure before returning them to 'normal' state to account for blunt or accumulated damages. Simple stuff, which was continued by a rigorous shadow boxing session, firing rapid salvos of straight punches that evolved towards a fire works display of a hundred hands that further multiplied to a thousand hands. The numbers mutating into a incomprehensible blur that distorted external view, and loud thunderous noise made by fists that have left mach five behind as they ascend to higher speeds. Afterimages fade and flicker as they caught flakes of snow entering from the cave openings alongside the wet drips from the stalagmites found on the ceilings. Long hands covering every possible spot at a 360-degree angle mixing jabs, straights with hooks and uppercuts in a localized hurricane of violence. With a skill that can create what was essentially a spherical barrier made from punches.

- "It is in my good friends name and the honor of the warrior I am that I present to you tonight the answer. This mountain is for the next twenty four hours closed off by all means as we raise are blades" -

Because now the match is set to king of the hill, and the stops are pulled so the kiddy gloves are off. The snowmen that are too young or needed to raise the elders have been evacuated to a safe location three weeks prior. In hindsight the departure of the leader from the team is not such an unpredictable one, as there had been subtle hints about his fleeting grip on power. There was that little scuffle between the assassin extraordinaire and the masked hooded man, to say the least the assassin extraordinaire did not escape in prime condition. What may come from a sour match are doubts that may cloud his minds, the scuffle may also affect the hooded man but all of that is merely the speculation of a combat cyborg. The leader was a great man but he was too open in choosing allies, letting potentially stronger associates in is an acceptable practice however when the associate has equal ambition then things will derail very quickly. A head functions as the central unit, giving orders to the rest of the body but even the head will fail when it stands on its own, A head is helpless when the hands betray it. There were hints during the event that a line was drawn between two sides, and the bioborg chose to stay in between. One party opens with the idea while the old leader persists to impose a dichotomy, as far as to threaten the safety of the Snowmen.

- A demon dragon signaled the end of the old and the beginning of the new -

Fowler was done with his training and makes his way into a sub burrow containing eight yetis led by the Alpha Male of the tribe, the snowmen known as 'Fred'. The fifteen foot bioborg announced the moment to these creatures "Time tof*ckingkill sh!t, hey everybody remember all that training I have given you? Its time to use it!" The beasts roared in unison that blocked out the Dragon's own and set off an avalanche that covered the mountain that they were in. The entrance to the cave was now officially shut off. The Himalayan Yetis are staying to brawl alongside their leader and their friend, because they are warriors. Due to the scarcity of their numbers that are present at the moment Fowler asked them to do the customary warrior dance before they go into battle. As they will remember their fellow snowmen brethren if any of them perishes in the bloody tides of battle. Held on their hands are gigantic custom-made Kaiser blades around the size of surfboards; weapons that can be swung at tremendous force. They are essentially giant pom-poms with cleavers on their arms, cleavers that can dig through the mountainside and rearrange boulders. Weapons that can be weighed in terms of hectotons, such weapons that the Yeti can swing as if they are made of goose feathers. White furballs with mouths large enough to swallow a humanoid being whole and strong enough to chew down grown bison’s like a piece of jelly.

They screamed and dug out the mountains to make their mark in this war, unwary of the happenings of the outside world and preparing to dish out the worse. Ever member of the nine-man unit is a weapon to fear. As Fowler is about to drill through the strata his specialized two-way communicator signals a message from a certain friend.

- "Mr. Fowler, I may require your aid" -

With that in mind Fowler arms the explosive charges set prior during the three weeks of exodus and pressed the button as that pushed the detonation at the top of the mountains surrounding their cave to announce his presence to everyone else, several snow avalanches fell as walls of ice and rubble wipe away impurities. A solid unstoppable mass set forth by a sequence or synchronized explosion angrily pushing, crushing and compacting anything that does not move away. An act of aggression simply performed to wash away-unwanted hurdles that may pop up later and to set as a valid warning for his imminent arrival. They are unseen as they are under, but they will come swift as thunder.

The mountains shook with the advances of some, Alezra betting that the one to orchestrate the avalanche the biomechanics cyborg. At least that was what she thought he was. Never the less the Dragon of Shadows didn't mind it was but another means to restricting this fight to be just those who bothered to raise their blades. Blair felt pretty sure he would be under alliance with the one who had fought with the previous leader the ever manipulating Impero. That was fine however it was only common sense some would have allies in this battle to come. Honestly the demonic queen loved that factor, a strong leader had supporters it was crucial that this place be ran by the strong and motivating. That enigma of intellect however was not the first target that the demon would peruse.

Snow began to form up in the building white frost dyed maroon by the blood of ninjas and assassins. Most were wise enough not to step in the ring as it was futile. As the saying goes however absolute power corrupts absolutely and so some of the shrouded minions of the nefarious organization did step up to raise a blade. They would kill each other in the name of the trademark of human civilization. The sin dominant in every soul in almost one way if not several. The cold porcelain to paint the structure thanks to Glorious who had ripped the roof clean from the building. He was a tank, an architect of deconstruction. Again however that was not the interest of the crimson haired beauty. Strolling through the corridors the Widow of Roxom made her way to Oxred.

There was a method to her madness, a flick of the wrist and a flame ejected from her palm before forming into a shurikan. The throwing star hurled deep into a ninja's skull before Red, the blade almost loss thanks to how deep it was lodged. "Ox was it? From what I understand you are the newest to join are ranks? You are presumably of but flesh and bone a skilled killer yet not super human? Be it true or not that you are no meta it is safe to at the least say you are the freshest to the high ranks. You are only as strong as are weakest link and be you that or not the arrow points to you. This is no insult for none of us are weak mind you. Still if I am to lead I need to know the potential of those I work beside. So please show me just how strong are we, what are the flaws to are clan of killers?"

Her questions were true, and serious she wanted his opinion. There was room left for him to answer every thing she had asked. No lies laid behind those jade fire eyes. Words a calm respecting measurement of the quality of the League of Shadows not with aim to lash out or belittle. Everything she said and did was trying to treat the opponent and team mate as an equal despite the difference in who they were. As soon as she had gotten an answer to her questions the demon would surround her hands in fire and turn hellfire to cold steal. Several throwing knives chucked at Red to insight instant challenge to test eachothers capacities. The blades were scattered just aimed to hit not so much cause dramatic damage. The demon wanting to test the man not kill him.

The throwing star was quick, but lucky for himself, Red was a bit quicker with his hands. He caught it quite quickly sure, but he would be lying to say it didn't come closer to contact with his skull than he had expected. Red moves the star to the palm of his hand and begins to twirl it around in place with his other pointer finger while answering the opponent assassin's questions "Why yes you are right! I am the newest of this band of assassins and i am just a shaped bag of flesh and bones! Oh and you can just call me Red." He flicks the star back at her like a paper football aiming it at her left hand, which was covered in hellfire and made a joke of Red's attempt at a head start.

Red could tell that the flames emanating from the demon's hands where not just for show so he got into his fighting position and mentally prepared himself for the worst. "So if you don't mind telling me, how far are you willing to go to earn this leadership huh?" Red says and immediately he gets a feeling of what the answer to his question would be when a set of knives are thrown his way. He was able to doge his way through almost all of the knives, except for one that caught him straight in the shoulder. For a second he did panic, but he was trained better than to let it distract him for to long, so he removed the blade from it's unconformable position and chucks it to the ground below him.

Briskly though he charges toward his target and threw a barrage of quick ,but energy saving, kicks. If any of the hits connected they would for sure inflict a good amount of damage at the moment, but the pain would wear off soon. Though time Red has learned that fighting is a lot like a race at times, in which you should never use up all of you energy and best strength from the start. Besides if he threw all of his cards out there from the start, the femme fatale would be able to defeat him with her hands tided if all he had heard about the woman where true. He was saving the ace up his sleeve for a weaker or more tired Azrael.

Graceful movement stopped the blade hurled at the ninja beside Red, a shame really. Bloodshed was always such a high, the discipline showed however in the snatching of the blade with perpetual ease. The freshest chain not tested had commendable speed and dexterity at the least. He also seamed to take excitement in being but flesh and bone. Alezra rather liked this fact it suggested that even if she put his low status in the lime light he was insistent on proving worth while. Potential for an actual decent fight coming from a human. Azrael would have to avoid telling Salem of the fact that a human might be of actual merit. Now was not the time to focus on the outside world however had to keep a level head. It was a interesting question he proposed the answer though was best delivered first with action however. The plotted course did not sway even the slightest.

With skilled precision and fluid movement commending the training the assassin with cloaked history received almost none of the blades landed. His skill was to high to be lost to such mundane means of assault. A single throwing star digging into his shoulder easily removed and shrugged off. Then the ball fell into Red's court to see what tricks he held up his sleeve. A quick succession of kicks tossed her way. The first blocked by her right forearm, the second pushed away by her left hand. The slight counter giving the skilled combatant time to go into a low kick that required the demon to put her balance off center. Granting a opening for a knee to collide with her gut, stomach might of lost its lunch if she were human. That was far from the case however it hurt sure but not nearly enough to phase her even in a pleasurable fashion. It was no jab at the assassins skill, simply that what could he do if holding back her body would recover from the bruises soon thanks to the healing factor.

"It would be a waste of resources to kill my own team which I try to consider family. However I train my family by forcing adaptation by pushing them to the brink of death. So if I can put my own bloodline on the border its safe to say I won't hesitate to do the same to anyone here. I don't know if you plan to continue beyond this fight if you really crave the title. My recommendation however is that you get rid of the restraints. Show me the real you, not some kick boxing tricks. Make the game fun so I don't end it soon" charismatic ever in her approach. It was not her intention to make Red feel inferior only to teach in her way. A small pace in the corridors of the hallway like a tiger in waiting. The Leagues Dragon on edge with anticipation "lets get to business shall we?" WIth that came the next attempt at almost taking the team members life. He was only human she wanted to keep the game somewhat level her speed was not as blinding as it could be granted she still put a variety of attacks down rage in impeccable time.

She charged blades ready to cleave flesh the arm blades reflecting flames and snow of the surroundings before she reached her prey however she leapt into the air. The slight take off accompanied with a small explosion of roaring flames from the elemental. The first move aimed to daze and burn perfect for the follow up. Before descending from above a set of thirteen stars were flung towards Red, barrage of steel piercing blades directed at the upper segments of the body including arms and skull. Landing softly she polished off her set of attacks by trying to run her blades through his chest. Organs were not necessarily the target of choice just a would that would remove the opposition.