Prologue

Since the dawn of time, long before the time of man, creatures of supernatural power have existed and walked this earth. For as long as anyone could remember though, there had been the war between the Oni Clan and the race of demon’s known as the Genma. Aided by the Crow Tengu Clan, the Oni Clan drove the Genma back many times and protected the earth realm from the destruction and evil the Genma would bring to it.

And then human’s appeared.

The Genma found human’s to be bountiful and a appealing food, and saw that they could be used as slaves too, and tried with renewed vigor to wrest control of the earth realm from the Oni Clan. But, the Oni Clan would still have none of this, for they and the Crow Tengu Clan had taken a liking to these human’s and thought it their duty to protect the destiny of all man kind. Some Oni and Tengu’s even fell in love with human’s through the many ages that would pass, and half Oni’s would be spawned.

The Genma would not be ignored though, and with each new Genma lord that would take control, new kinds of Genma would appear, and they would grow bolder and more vicious, smarter and more skilled in the arts of fighting.

As time passed though, the Oni Clan hid their most powerful weapons all over the world in shrines they had built. Weapons of many types, that would be wielded by warriors chosen specifically by the Clan that would be able to bring out the full power of the weapons, and of the Oni Gauntlets they had forged to allow them to absorb the souls of the Genma to increase their strength even further.

The stories of Samanosuke Akechi, Jubei Yagyu and Jacques Blanc have already been told, and the fall of two Genma Lords have come and gone.

Now a new story unfolds as a new group of Warriors are chosen.

Now is the time of a new Genma Lord.

Now, is the Age of Demons!


Year: 1945 East Germany

The bunker was deathly quiet. The only sound, was the constant and eerie noise of leaky pipe and every few minutes the sound of an explosion, far off in the distance going off would penetrate the bunker, causing dust fall from the ceiling each time. Outside the attack on Berlin was being carried out by the allied forces, the Capital was a shell of its former self and still they kept coming with more bombs, blowing away more and more each time.

Inside the bunker, the bodies of children littered the floor, lying where they had been consumed by the poison that had taken their lives. The bodies of a man and his wife, both having died of gun shots to the head. Their lifeless eyes staring at one another.

Another explosion went off, this one was much closer and the reaction was much more violent. The bunker shook and the lights went out briefly, plunging the bunker into what felt like an eternal darkness. Never Once did he flinch though. He just sat there with his back against the wall with his knee’s slightly raised and his arms resting on them, holding the revolver loosely, seeming to contemplate its purpose as he stared down at, seeming to take no notice of the woman next to him.

They were the last two left of those he had brought down into the bunker.

Hitler knew, it was only a matter of time before they found the bunker. But they would be in for a nasty surprise when they did, he had seen to that.

Another bomb went off, not as close this time, but it was enough to make the lights flicker madly. It was while the lights flickered that Hitler turned to Eva and fired three shots into her chest. Her eyes went wide and she was knocked back a little. She looked at him in shock, slowly slumping to the ground as blood gathered in and spilled from her mouth.

Her last sights would be seeing Hitler raise the revolver to his head, and start squeezing the trigger.

But before he could fire the gun, a bright light filled the room, and when it disappeared……… he was gone…….

* * *

Year: 1657 Kyoto Japan

Though the sky was clear and it was a nice day, Seijun felt weary as he entered the, usually crowded city of Kyoto, but today, there was very few people out and about, many shops were closed and the one’s that were out and about seemed to be trying to keep a low profile, never looking at each other in the face, and when he looked around and caught some staring at him they would quickly look away and then walk off in a hurry.

Something wasn’t right, he could feel it in his bones.

When his stomach growled angrily from lack of contents, he pushed his concerns ands paranoia away and walked quietly into a restaurant. There was a couple people already inside having hushed conversations, but when Seijun entered everyone went quiet, almost as if they were afraid of him hearing what they were talking about. He frowned slightly, ignored them and sat down and ordered, ordering a beef pot, some rice and a couple of bottles of saki.

When it came he ate and drank slowly, deep in thought as he tried to figure out what was going on around here.

As he was eating, three large men walked up and stopped in front of him, looking down at him with deep frowns, he simply looked back at them innocently though as he sucked up a long strip of beef and swallowed. He smiled.

“Can I help you?” he asked casually.

“Your not welcome here” said the tallest of the three.

Seijun smiled cheerfully. “Last time I checked, anyone was welcome in Kyoto.”

“Then you should check more often” snarled one of the others.

“I’ll keep that in mind” he replied and fished out another piece of beef with his chopsticks, just before the third man in the kicked the steaming hot pot to the side. Seijun frowned and looked up at them. “I can handle people trying to tell me off, but when someone interferes with my lunch, they had better be ready to run.”

He stood up slowly, reaching for his naginata that was leaning against the wall and stared at the men angrily.

A few seconds later one of the men, the tallest of the three came flying out of the restaurant with terrified scream. His friends followed soon after, running out after him as Seijun stepped slowly outside of the restaurant with his naginata held at the ready. The one he had knocked out through the entrance had a nasty gash running down the side of his arm where Seijun had got him with the weapon. Seijun’s blue eyes seemed to burn with malice as he stared at the three. All of whom were busy pulling out their katana’s.

As one the three attacked. Seijun struck the closes across the face with the flat side of the naginata and knocked him unconscious as he was flung painfully to the side. He planted the blade end into the ground and used it to support himself as he flipped off the ground and twisted over the second attack that was aimed at his legs. He landed gracefully in a crouch and spun in a complete circle as he drew his katana and sliced off the legs of the second attacker. Without stopping he sheathed the saw again and pulled his naginata free of the ground and blocked against the attack of the third man. The sudden block sent the man off balance and he stumbled backwards pathetically and Seijun lunged forward, driving his naginata towards the man.

Time seem to slow down for a split second as the man stumbled back into the wall of the building across from the restaurant, and the blade of the naginata slid cleaning against the side of his head and sliced off his right ear. Normal time seemed to resume and Seijun came right up close to the guy and whispered into his left ear.

“Next time I’ll remove your nose” he said coldly, the man whimpered in fear. Seijun stood back and pulled his naginata free of the wall. “Get out of here, and take your friends with yah, they’re cluttering up the street.”

Seijun put the naginata back into its special sheath on his back and walked off calmly. Leaving a crowd milling around the three defeated men. He never noticed the man that watched him from the shadows with great interest. A low chuckle escaped the man’s lips…

Nearly twenty minutes later, Seijun found himself standing outside the gates of large mansion. He seemed to stand there for what felt like an eternity, then without another thought he launched himself into the air and grasped the edge of the torii and pulled himself up. He kept in a crouch and looked across the estate. There were few guards about, and nothing appeared to have changed in the last three years. He looked about cautiously to make sure he hadn’t been spotted.

He dropped down off the tall torii and landed behind a bush. Slowly but cautiously Seijun made his way past the guards. He climbed up onto the outer ledge of the house roof and pulled himself up and continued until he was on the upper section of it and then quickly made his way to the other side of the estate, knowing exactly where he wanted to go. A few seconds later her crouched at the edge of the roof on the other side of the house and over looked a beautiful enclosed garden area, where a young woman sat with one of her servants. Seijun smiled and waited till the servant was dismissed.

Quietly he jumped down behind the girl and plucked a flower from the garden next to her and lightly ran it along the side of her cheek, startling her. She snapped her head around ready to scream, but went silent with shock as she saw his face, then slowly she smiled and then jumped up and threw her arms around him.

“Hello Natsumi” Seijun laughed quietly.

“Seijun, I’ve missed you” she said as she hugged him tightly.

“I know, I’ve missed you to. I’m sorry it took me so long to get back here” Seijun told her. He accidentally brushed aside the shoulder part of her kimono and found a large angry bruise covering a sizable section of her skin. He pushed her back a little and looked into her eyes. “Who has done this to you Natsumi?”

Natsumi looked down at the ground.

“It……..It was my father….” She said reluctantly.

Seijun drew his sword and turned to go inside. “His blood will stain the floor.”

“No, you mustn’t” she said, grabbing him by his arm.

“He cannot be allowed to get away with this. It isn’t right” he told her quickly.

She shook her head. “You don’t understand Seijun. He isn’t well. Something’s happened to him, that has made him act different. He’s no longer thinks clearly. Last year a strange old man came to the estate. Father allowed him to stay the night as it was storming and the man claimed he had no where else to go. But come morning, my father seemed to have forgotten the condition of letting him stay. Soon a week past and the man was still here. This was when my father started to change. It was small at first, he’d just ignore me and sometimes wouldn’t speak to me for days on end, but then he started to act violent, he hasn’t hurt just me, its been servants too. And that old man, he’s still here, he has my father hanging off his every word. The whole of Kyoto has heard about the change in my father and think that he’s made a pack with demons and blame him for the lack of people visiting the city.”

“That would explain everyone’s attitude” he thought aloud.

“And there’s also the strange noises at night, and the disappearances of some of the locals” she told him. He looked at her questioningly. “For the last couple of months, people have been disappearing and symbols drawn in blood have been appearing on buildings. People have been saying they’re the marks of demons.”

“Well I don’t know about demon’s, but I think I may need to have a word with this old man” Seijun said as he sheathed his sword and started inside, only to stop has a mad cackle filled the air. Slowly an old man with a strange looking staff stepped out from the shadows, followed by the man that Seijun recognized as Natsumi’s father.

“And just what is it that you’re going to have a word to me about, young man?” the old man grinned evilly.

Seijun immediately unsheathed his sword again and backed back, guarding Natsumi.

“What are you?” he demanded coldly.

“I don’t have to explain my existence to a mere mortal such as yourself, especially one who only has a few minutes left to live” the old man snarled.

Seijun’s eyes widened in shock as a fire ball blasted from the top of the old man’s staff and raced at towards him like a bat out of hell. Seijun turned his back on the fire ball and threw himself over Natsumi to protect her. The blast impacted and he let out a roar of pain. His skin burned and pain exploded through out his body.

He and Natsumi fell to the ground in a heap. Natsumi cried out Seijun’s name, fear and concern evident in her voice. Seijun groaned in pain and tried to collect his thoughts, but the pain just kept shooting across his body like a thousands fire arrows. Natsumi’s father walked across to the two and rolled Seijun off his daughter using his foot and quickly pulled her up off the ground. She struggled uselessly as the old man cackled arrogantly.

“You foolish boy, you might have lived had you not came here today” he said evilly. “Once we sacrifice the beautiful Natsumi here, everything will be in place.”

Seijun growled and pushed the pain aside, he would deal with it later. Slowly he raised to his feet, much to the shock of the old man.

“I…. will not….. let you hurt her!!” he snarled as he got to his feet and pulled out his naginata, holding a weapon in each hand now. “I will kill you first, old man!”

“I think not” replied the old man. He waved his staff across the garden, and all around him circles of dark green mist appeared, then creatures came out of the mist. Seijun was taken aback by this, causing the old man to laugh again. “You’re a strong mortal, but you’re no match for the might of the Genma!!”

The old man, Natsumi and Natsumi’s father disappeared back into the darkness of the house. Seijun went to ran after them but two of the Genma jumped down and blocked his path. He swung his naginata around, slamming it into the four legged creature and knocking it aside as he blocked another with his katana and planted a kick in its abdomen. He knew he wasn’t strong enough to fight them and quickly rushed past the two, well aware that they were going to be close behind him, snapping at his heels.

He rushed through the mansion, listening for Natsumi’s frighten screams and followed them. Then he crashed through the final pair of sliding doors and found Natsumi tied to an alter with the old man standing over her with a dagger in his hand. Immediately Natsumi’s father was all over him, unsheathing his sword and attacking with a mighty swing.

Seijun ducked under the attack, and quickly followed through with his own. Natsumi’s father had once been a great samurai in his younger years and it was quickly apparent that his skills had not diminished in the least. He easily parried Seijun’s attack and delivered a back hand attack that sent Seijun reeling. He felt like his jaw had been shattered by the attack. He regained his composure as best he could and blocked his opponents next series of attacks and then lunged forth with his own.

All the while the old man continued to mutter an incantation while Natsumi struggled with her bonds.

Seijun parried another attack that set his opponent off balance and without a second thought he spun around and sliced Natsumi’s father’s head off. The head rolled across the room and came to a stop at the base of the alter. Seijun turned to face the old man, who stared at him with sadistic glee in his eyes, and then, as the young samurai rushed forward, the old man plunged the dagger down, into Natsumi’s stomach, who let out an ear splitting scream of agony.

“NOOOOOO!” Seijun cried out.

The old man let out a deep and evil laugh. Seijun jumped across the alter and delivered a kick to the man’s head and sent him flying backwards into the wall. Seijun quickly turned his attention back to Natsumi, blood pumping out through her wound.

“Natsumi, please… you can’t leave me” he told her as his eyes moisten.

“I…. love…… you……” she whispered, blood spilling out of the corners of her mouth.

“I love you too” he replied, a tear escaping from his eye. He squeezed his eyes shut and moaned in anguish as he felt her body go still in his arms. He held her for what felt like the longest time, and then he the old man groan and he snapped his head around with a feral snarl as set his eyes on his prey. Seijun laid Natsumi down and picked his weapons up. “I am going to rip you apart!”

The old man laugh. “It doesn’t matter anymore you foolish boy. I have accomplished what I was meant to do, and now the world will feel the might of the powerful Genma.”

“I don’t care about any of that! You took away the only person I’ve ever cared about, and for that I feel kill you” Seijun said darkly.

He raised his sword and with a scream of anger and rage and swung the sword forward. The old man squeezed his eyes shut. The death stroke never came though, only a flash of light that the old man was able to sense. Slowly he opened his eyes and found that he was alone. The samurai had disappeared…..

Ashes blurred the feral yellow vision of the last of the Magatamashi. Years had passed since the incident that brought him to where he was now. The body was strong, stronger since the Union, but it was by no means invincible. Hefting the scythe over it's right shoulder the Magatamashi strode through the eternal darkness that once was Saito Clan territory. In recent years it had been renamed Gifu keep, since the disappearance of the one who could destroy the Genma. A cold smile passed it's blue lips at the look of suprise on the Genma Lords face when the young half Oni delivered the final blow not so long ago. The memory would remain with the Magatamashi for centuries to come, that was assured. The chaos that ensued after the Genma Lords death left Gifu in ruins, and the Genma scattered to the winds. Some still roamed the grounds, foolish enough to attempt the life of this being. Others were smarter, bowing before the presence of the Magatamashi as it passed them. Still, this would never last, the Genma always had a lord in waiting. Thanks to their scientists and corrupt human Mystics a Genma Lord was always present.

Those sensitived to the mystic realm avoided the Magatamashi at all costs, his body was always encompased by three strands of light. Each pulled in a seperate direction. Always to his right was the light purple glow of the Oni, humans, and tengu, pulling for him to join the side of the righteous. To the left was the blackened energy of the Genma, always trying to persuade him to help in the meaningless conquests. And directly beneath him was a white light, none could fathom what it stood for. Only Nocturne, the last Magatamashi knew that, and he wasn't telling.

Several lower Genma stumbled into view. The large orange straw hats they wore cast shadows over the eyeless sockets of their rotting faces. With a low hiss they began to sorround the Magatamashi with rusted katanas drawn. It was the same tactic all lower Genma used to take down prey. Unfortunately for them, Nocturne always struck first.

Directly in front of him the Genma split in half, rotten innards spilling out in a flower of gore as the ancient Magatamashi whirled the scythe under it's arm and forward, slipping it through the Genma and straight up to slice it neatly in half. Those at his sides didn't have a chance to respond as the hook at the end of the scythe protruded from the backside of one Genma and flung it into the other, taking it's head clean off with the katan of an ally.

The fight was swift and lacked finesse, but Nocturne wasn't out to impress people, he simply killed. Firmly planting his boot in the muck that was the dissolving Genma, Nocturne continued on. The winds of change were blowing and Nocturne could feel something large was coming it's way. Slipping the staff portion of the scythe around his shoulders the Magatamashi moved on. Gifu would be rebuilt soon when the Genma Lord made one last bid for conquest...and failed. Such was the way of things. The Genma attacked, the Oni fought back, and the Oni won. In these pitiful conflicts up to now, Nocturne had been a wild card. It always came down to the Oni Chosen, and a Genma. Nocturne never entered the main skirmishes unless he sought something from them.

A low, annoyed huff echoed from his throat as the light of the Oni broke through the mystic realm and encompassed the dark form of his body, the Oni were calling him forcefully. They should know better than to force him. In a flash of purple light the ancient creature vanished.

The victory over their rivals was worthy of a grand celebration. Many of his fellow Viking warriors piled out of their wooden boats, their axes, swords, and shields clattered about as they prepared make their way back to their village. Each carried a brown woolsack of their spoils. A few of the younger and more eager warriors had abducted some women. Their leader, Errick The Red, as he was called and referred to, was not one for taking women; he preferred to have a lady who enjoyed his company rather then fight him during intimate relations. The winding line of twelve or so warriors made their way up the steep embankment towards their home. They began to sing old Nordic songs of victory in loud baritone voices, often a signal to the villagers that their band of warriors was about to return in victory.

Errick stopped his men with a raised right hand, held tightly in a fist. Something wasn’t right. He took a few steps forward and beckoned his two most trusted warriors to his side. He looked about the foliage suspiciously before he spoke in whispers no louder then a wisp of air. Both men nodded and unsheathed their weapons along with Errick The Red. Without hesitation the rest of the legion pulled their own weapons and formed a circle, all faced outwards, ready for combat.

Their eyes searched the brush intently until Errick caught the bushes ruffle and without a word men with javelins had them at the ready. Errick held off on the command to fire, he desired to be absolutely sure. A few moments later a young boy burst out of the brush with a huge smile on his face. The warriors laughed off their nervousness and slapped on another on the back, to be wary of a young boy no older then twelve. Errick broke into a frown then a smile. His nephew was a trickster and if he weren’t careful next time he’d receive a javelin to the throat. The boy came up to his uncle only to have him grabbed in a headlock and dragged his knuckles atop his head.

“How many times have I told you never to do that young Aron?” The young boy squirmed as he might but eventually gave up and agreed hastily to have his head released.

“I know uncle, but it was fun to see all your warriors draw ranks and weapons within seconds.”

“That may be young one, but it is not wise to provoke any with a weapon lest you also carry one and have the means to use it. Now then, how is your mother?” He inquired of his sister as the group continued on their seven-kilometre trek back to their village. Errick inquired as to the health of his sister, his brother in law and the rest of his family including young Aron’s sword and axe practice.

The conversation and mood of the legion was amicable, they were weary from adventure and dearly looked forward to reuniting with their family and close friends. It had been nearly six weeks since their departure. The campaign had been successful, but gruelling, Errick had yet to lose a single warrior on the battlefield. A fact that only further heightened his almost mythic reputation around this region.

At four kilometres left in their march Errick and his fellow warriors halted at a familiar smell. He turned and looked down at his nephew. “How long have you been waiting by the river mouth?”

“Three, maybe four hours. I had hoped you’d return today, I’ve been there a couple hours each day around this time. Why?”

Errick and his comrades looked up into the skyline just above the thick trees and saw the tell tale signs of black smoke. Aron’s face drained of colour as he too looked up and saw the flicker of orange flames. The legion stormed forward at an unholy pace, weapons draw with roars of fury to summon up the berserker rage his legion was feared and well known for on the battlefield. They burst into the village to see massacred bodies of their friends and family strewn about as though they were rag dolls. Huts were set ablaze and burnt savagely in the heavily wooded region.

A distinct aura of horror and dismay engulfed the legion. They remained paralyzed by the destruction of their home. Errick’s eyes flickered with fury as they searched about for the invaders when he caught movement on the far side of an inferno. He reared back in mortification.

“What sorcery is this?”

A legion of ten walking corpses with massive great swords trudged through the flames as though they were nothing more then an illusion. Guttural noises came from their skeletal mouths with strips of decayed and bloodied flesh plastering their faces with hollow eye sockets. Errick pushed Aron behind him as he caught sight of the first archer and roared at his men to raise their shields. Most heeded the order; two of the younger warriors were too mortified at the destruction of their homes and were dispatched by two archers, which rested above the cliff that backed onto the village’s town hall. Another set of guttural noises caused Errick to turn his head sharply to their left flank. More of these foul creatures, this time bearing axes, cut off their route of escape.

Errick barked gruffly at the javelins to be thrown and so they were. In the process three of his best were struck down but the two archers had been knocked off their perch and landed rather harshly into a pit of flames. Only one managed to escape the ensuing collapse of the hut. As the swordsman came forward Errick raised his axe and bellowed for the charge. Enraged by raw emotions of the most primal nature the Vikings surged forward towards the swordsmen. Errick had grabbed Aron about the collar and hauled him alongside him.

“Do not step out of my shadow!” He snarled in his berserker rage as he locked metal with metal against a swordsman. Errick’s massive biceps rippled and trembled as he held the swordsman at bay. He let out a roar and the swordsman acquiesced to his roar with one of its own. Incited by the creature’s mocking tone Errick threw his impressive weight forward and knocked the creature off guard before whirling his axe in a deadly arc, which would decapitate most men. He looked up to see the swordsman pull its nearly decapitated head back onto his neck and swing downward with a mighty stroke. Errick sidestepped but cost him a nasty gash along his right arm, nothing deep but in the fiery heat the sting was amplified a thousand fold.

All about him Errick saw his allies slowly be dispatched one by one. They fought valiantly but as the slower and heavier axe men came within striking distance their lives were quickly hacked short. He heard their screams and was helpless to do anything; he was having enough trouble with this lone swordsman. He heard the shrill cry of an arrow and forcefully grabbed and spun the creature into his previous position in time to see three arrows impale its chest in a perfect trinity pattern. Before he could do anything Aron had picked up a bloodied sword and axe in each hand and charged the archer, whose arrows were depleted due to the fire consuming them. He cried out to his nephew in time to see his last living relation strike the creature with a perfect arcing upward swing of the axe and a cross slash of the sword and gave a small whoop of cheer as the creature which was deceptively frail, fell apart into bloodied chunks before evaporating in what looked to be a cloud of murky purplish blood. With renewed vigour, Errick kicked the creature back and with two hands firmly wrapped around his sweat stained axe handle, brought the mightily weapon down atop the creature’s head and split it down the middle with a hellish war cry.

Aron jumped up and down with pride and delight at the slaying of another beast only to suddenly go silent except for a few gurgling noises. He looked down and saw a broadsword sticking through his chest. Errick spun around and cried out in horror as he watched the swordsman kick off the limp and lifeless body of his nephew to the blood stained ground. The axe men encircled him along with the stoic swordsman. Bleeding from the original fight from his arm, the axe began to weigh heavier in his hands. Yet he would never relinquish hold of it, even in death he would bring it with him to the afterlife. He reared the axe over his bloodied arm and ran in a blind rage towards the one who killed his nephew and then before he could strike a brilliant white light blinded him and everything vanished…

The crowd roared as the body hit the ground bloody and open cating cavity on the torso. The man raised his sword and screamed his glory. He'd entered three days in a row now as a voluntary Gladiator winning money and respect.

The next man charged at him and he raised his sheild blocking the sword swing and pushed the shield forward hitting the sword again as it came down in a repeat motion and hearing a huge thud. Lashing out he kicked the attacker back making him stumble and pushed forward attacking and slamming the shield into him and swinging with his sword. Catching himself just before he hit the ground, the attacker brought his sword in front just in time to block the swing and then rolled to the side avoiding another hit to the ground.

The current champion laughed, he'd just slain his opponent moments before and this one was even worse and kept swinging at the ground lashing out with violent sword swings.

Up in the crowds.....

"He's still doing well but he can't keep this up, he won't last through the day"

"Your wager" replied the second spectator and the first moved his hand over placing 5 coins in the others hand.

Back in the stadium.

Tymaxis stabbed his sword down missing his opponent again as he had jumped back and dodged it and then swung forward in a horizontal attack that was blocked with a sheild again and used to knock the sword away and slashed forward opening a gash on the other mans abdoman. he attacked forward as he dropped cutting open Tymaxis's leg a little but it was negligable and he proved it by kicking his adversary down more and driving the sword into his throat and pulling it out.

"Come on, there must be someone here who came face me!!!"

Round the collosium a number of gates opened and more men stepped out along with another five holding back a lion on a long chain.

The current voluntary champion looked placited, this would be a good fight, "More than one, interesting"

It was after a moment when none seemed to move for him he began to wonder and then at the front of the Arena a man stood, "Tymaxis" was all he called out till the man in the center turned and fully had his attention on him, "You fight well, so to test your skill. You can fight him....however we've given you men to help you"

Tymaxis eyes widened and his pupil's contracted, his eyes twitched. They weren't serious, he was only voluntering, he wasn't going to fight him. He wasn't skilled like that.....

The last and final pair of gates opened, a figure walked out huge and with a limp in his right leg. The shadow and light flashed on him as he moved to make it out. Shines reflected from the helmet and caused glare but not as much as the heavy lining of metal played armour on his arm, starting from the shoulder as a large gaurd with a curved part to catch blades going for that side of the kneck and then plated armour on top of each other going down the arm till it hit a huge metal gauntlet. The main body was covered with a torso armour peice scratched and marked in drawings and names of people who were long since dead, the other arm had a heavy metal fore-arm gaurd and the open legs bare except for the lower leg gaurds and heavy boots.

Tymaxis stumbled back, he seriously doubted he had skill enough for this. What he looked at was a man made an animal, the person coming towards him in that slow daunting limp like walk was close to forty years of age and almost all of it spent in the games, for he was no volunter. He was a slave Gladiator and he had not yet lost a battle. It was said his owner, his main keeper was the only one who could really command him, even the armed gaurds in the cells retreated from him at times even when he was un-armed from either fear, respect or both. Armada.

There was other names but Armada had stuck, christined with his name's by the crowds they all punctuated his evisceral nature but Armada had stayed for his ability to keep fighting like a force of men despite what was happening. The worst of his wounds, the gimp in his leg and the slash on his chest gained when fighting a horde, the blood that poured from his when the carriage was impeded on him and it's occupunent sprung and slashed him.

When Armada fell and hit the ground that day the stadium was silent, for a breif moment everyone had entertained the thought that he was at last killed, finally slain in a battle. Crushed beneath a carraige and cut down to the groud but somehow he still rose and fought, taking the sword used to slash him and using it to open up it's own owner.

Tymaxis retreated back more, Armada had came to within mere feet of him. He was armed with a net and trident but it was more than enough. The other men had started to close in while the ones with the Lion were whipping it in the way they wanted it to go while the others held it on the chains.

Up in the crowds the man handed over 10 coins, "You win"

"I know I do" smiled the other ashe put it back into his pocket.

In the Stadium, Tymaxis hit the ground his face burst open and the Lion lay dead beside him as Armada pulled the trident from it and the net laying back somewhere half tangled round a body, half wrapped round the kneck where he was strangled.....

The other men had taken up arms and were preparing to charge when one stopped stock still, not al teh other saw it immediately but Armada was staring at it which was what caused them to turn. The man dropped and from behind him what seemed like a half decaying corpse stepped forward holding a short sword, from no where others appeared and slayed the men just as fast.

When one lunged for Armada he was ready as he impaled his trident onto it and brought it over his head throwing the weapon and picking up a short sword from the ground that tymaxis had dropped and turned to the closest slashing it down the chest with uncanny speed for a figure of his own size and then stabbed it through the stomach when it ceased to die however and instead brought it's own arm down at him and he blocked with his heavily armoured fore arm and kicked it backa s he pulled his sword from it. Armada was not pleased, he sliced open it's gullet and impaled it straight through, yet the thing would not die. Organs were hred and ripped apart by such an attack. The Gladiator could not fathom what these creatures were nor why they refused to die and having sloan through it's body to see it still move disturbed him, inside his helmet his eyes contorted as he turned quickly and stepped to the side to see the one that had impaled on the trident try to slash him from behind.

He grabbed the trident to gain some measure of contorl over the thing and holding the sword in his right hand threw a slice for it's kneck cleaving it's head from it's body causing it tod rop and fall from the three pronged weapon. When it did not rise Armada released a breath of victory, as the next one lunged for him he blocked with his arm again and and cleaved down slicing had and all the way to the chest through the shoulder crippling the arm and then hacked the head off once more.

Armada lost track of the crowd in the stands and what they were or might be doing right now as he fought with another and one handedly drove the trident through it's face before yanking it out, despite the fact that it appeared dead he quickly bent and sliced the head from the body to be sure, in all reasoning he wasn't sure if taking the heads did kill them but it worked for now to put them down.

"What fight you put up mortal" and Armada spun seeing a much more filled out fuller life like figure chunkier even than Armada himself with a contorted face of inhuman-ness. It carried a long broad sword, similiar to the typical short sword he had had but far more in length with slight protrusions at each side at the top of the handle acting as a hand gaurd.

He charged at the thing only for it to block with the sword deflecting the trident in his left hand and move swiftly enough to avoid the short sword he attacked with and then kick him to the ground and brought his foot down again breaking the weapon. Armada rose grabbing the Trident with both hands and using it to block a one handed vertical stroke from the creature. As it pulled back the Gladiator went on the offencive using the trident as a brace for his body and planted a two footed kick to its chest with all his weight behind it. It stumpled back from the blow but looked up just in time as Armada drove the trident straight into one it's causing it to drop it's sword as it staggered back.

The life long slave picked up the sword as it hit the ground it beign the closest weapon he could see and was abotu to swing for the grotesque figure when a flash occurred stealing his site from him and then he was gone. The Genma demon looked round as the Gladiator had simply vanished.

Modern Times:

Darrick Black quickly and quitely made his way through the old japanese shinto(sp) shrine. He knew he wasn't surppose to be doing what he was, what with the myths and tall tales of seeing ones wife-to-be before the wedding and all. However, Darrick didn't belive in any of those silly pre-wedding myths. so with our a care he made his way to the brides room.

Stopping a few feet from Michie's room he shut his eyes, steeled his nerves, and slowed his labored breathing......cept his breathing wasn't labored and the sound was coming from......

Truning around slowly with all the grace of the guilty thinking Michies creepy old man had cought him. Darrick didn't know what it was, but there was just something not right about the man. He always seemed to have an other worldly air about him and there where times Darrick could swear he'd seen the mans eyes glow whenever he got really mad about something but had passed it off as just a a trick of the candle light sense the shrine had no real power installed as of yet.

"I'm really sir....." Darrick started to say but stopped as he came face to face with a half decayed face. Darrick's brain went into shut down mode as he simply stared at the thing standing in front of him. Then just as suddenly as it had shut down it came back up.

The hallway was filled with two screams. one befitteding a little girl the other befitteding a warrior out for blood. In terrifed panic Darrick ran for the nearest room.

Shoving open, then throwing shut the door he threw his back against it as he heard the thing begin to pound on the door. It was then he looked away form the floor only to wish he hadn't.

the room was a mess as if their had been a large fight of some kind. Witch there had been for in the corner of the room, in a puddle of her own blood was michie...no that couldn't have been right as last he'd known michie had had legs below her waist and not the snake body he was seeing now. He also wasn't alone in the room as there where three more decayed faces standing over the body.

Darrick could fill is mind start to crack as reality as he knew it began to fade. so far into shock had he fallen that he didn't even notice the sword blade stab it's way through the door untill the second time when it cut into his side. Grabing at his side he stubled forward as the door blew open and in stalked the frist decayed face he'd seen.

Deep in shock and terrifed beyound all reason Darrick only had one thought as the other montsers joined the frist and the lead monster stepped closer as it raised it sword for the kill.

"I should have but more fath into the old myths"

then the blade fell.