Maluk would take the blade inquisitively, holding it by the sheath in one hand and the hilt in the other, looking at the gift set before him. He would make his way through the rift and it would close behind them all, wondering what this blade is capable of. Instead of dwelling on it or testing it himself, he'd look to Dervain and simply ask as he begins to walk across the battlefield towards Siral the ogre several feet away, ready to intervene as Kallen's first distraction instead of Nericaru as he sees the situation going on. "Lord Dervain, what is this sword's properties and what is its name? I wish to test it now with all my might. Things are about to get bad here soon. I wish to stop it before it does and help just a little with my aid as Grounds-guardian." Soon, his skullcap would shift into a tri-horned carnivorous dinosaur bone skull helmet, which would form plates swiftly around the neck like a protective collar, and soon his whole leather suit would be covered in bones stronger than steel, as the shape-changing goblin gets bigger, turning twelve feet tall in a matter of moments, sounding like an orc as he growls, steam pouring from his now sharper maw. His voice still well mannered as always however, even if he sounds more savage now. He'd take the sheath in his large left hand, covered in jagged bones, and his right would hold the grip of the sword as he walks with a boom with every step he makes towards Siral as dust gets thrown in his face. "I want to know now so I can use this wonderful gift on this pitiful excuse of my races blood. As a goblin, I cannot stand for an ogre like him falling so far into depravity and self-power." As the situation stands, Maluk may not even get his chance.
The ogre would take his charge, only to be met with a hit to the chin and a cloud of ash to the face from cremated bone. Making him stumble back two steps. He'd groan and roar, swiftly swiping his cleavers aimlessly in a huge arching 'X' formation, making a wail of despair come from both his cleavers, preying on the presence of fear in the area. The large 'X' would swath through the air and cut the grass over her head swiftly. He'd hear a small goblin speak, then an even larger more savage Orcish beast speak off in the distance almost immediately right after the goblin said something.. He'd close his eyes, take his right finger, and wipe away the ash from his eyes one after the other, then he'd wipe it on his cheeks as war paint as he recovers quickly. He was stunned briefly, and his sight is slightly blurry, making this field evened slightly. However, that gave him even keel to start rampaging like a bloody monster. He'd blink with blurry eyes and roar in rage at the level of frustration he is feeling at this very moment. The damn veins popping out on his arms, legs, and neck are proof enough of how angry he is when he roars and flexes his body all at once in anger. "GRRRRAAAAAAAHHHHHH! Dirty mongrel! I knew this is how this was going to be played! I will crush you! And when I find the Bloodkin that said those words, I will tear out it's teeth and wear them!" Siral would swiftly pull back both of his arms and start lashing the grass and bones apart around him, ripping the battlefield around him apart as he rampages and tears it all apart with his stomping, slashing, and roaring, making the whole area around him, hollowed bones and all, roaring with him at once as well, making the whole area surround sound his rage.
The calm, collected Nericaru would only watch with a straight face, crossing his arms as his two clones move to avoid the rocks and debris that clutters and flies around as their eyes watch her steadily become more instable. The clones eyes would shift to watch the scythe just as Kallen seemingly backlash strikes it's trajectory away, utilizing the Vibranium and Oricalcum inside of her sheath to it's fullest apparently as she quickly parries and impales Saiya with her own weapon. The lead Nericaru would only smile, and walk towards Saiya as she lays on the ground like a dead rock, stunned. The middle Nericaru would speak calmly to Kallen as she words her plan to him. "Alright. Before I deal with big, ugly, and tactically predictable, I'm going to have tweedle-crazy and tweedle-angry here wail her into the ground for a couple goes…" With that said, Nericaru would pace across his battlefield through the mist and between the dead trees, disappearing between them as wouldn't you know it, the two manifested clones would turn and bear menacingly down on Saiya in her weakened state. The psychotic one with the long, malicious thorn chain would merely pace at her like a murderous figure in a twisted horror movie, the only sign of life from that copy being the dark glow of his red eyes inside his mask and the constant glow from his mask as he breathes in and out, chuckling lowly and wickedly, seemingly to himself, even though it's very clear he's laughing at the depravity of Saiya's situation now as she's been impaled by her own weapon. The bestial clone would only roar and run forward, disappearing between the trees only to appear a good five and a half feet behind her as she lays on the ground, growling with the fangs of his curse mask dripping with mana and darkness that he's been eating. It's very clear both types of energy and matter would dissipating from his jagged teeth fairly quickly as they both disappear into the mask. Out of nowhere, a swishing would be heard across the air and the psychotic clone would hurl the chains through the air and swiftly and skillfully they would twist and glide through the air without rattling a single bit before landing on the ground underneath her head and her waist, before her would swiftly heave his arms back like a maestro pulling his symphony back for another encore, and the chains would all swiftly split apart into separate links before all reforming at once into a spiral around her and all at once, in a split second time window, the chains would tighten and attempt to wrap around her a bind her in their dark, floral, miasmic binding. The lead Nericaru's voice speaking out again as an echo across the mist. "You're right Saiya, you cannot be tied down by a leash. That's why would me and my father would offer you isn't leash. It's a prison sentence with the only enjoyment being that you get to manifest as yourself and have your power used by someone who would use it better than how you would use it yourself. Though, that's merely a matter of opinion when it comes down to using someone's power better. Now why don't you enjoy that death hug my more twisted counterpart has to offer you while I deal with mister septic diarrhea of the mouth and with tremendous fear induction disorder…Some people just don't learn that you can't project your fantasies on others. Nobody else wants to wallow in a pit of self-shit like your buddy over here." If the chains worked, she would be pulled up to her feet to watch Nericaru start the beginning of a now dual torture session for both Saiya and Siral as Kallen goes and does her thing to assist Kurai and Kendrix was his best guess. Siral would still be rampaging and wiping his eyes as he finally sees a figure moving towards him through the burned dead grass a few feet away from him. His blurred vision not making it clear to him that the figure isn't Kallen, and not thinking to breathe and think while fighting, he'd lunge forward and roar as Nericaru only smirks through his curse mask, still walking as the behemoth charges at him, Nericaru would only bend his stance by his knees and walk under his legs with ease, sending his elbow into the back fastenings of his knee-cap armor on the right side, making the plates covering his knee fall loose to the ground and clang against the stone floor. No sooner had it hit the ground, Siral would take a step back and attempt to backhand Nericaru, but Nericaru would duck, and seemingly tuck and roll in a somersault to the left, this time getting up and jumping through the air, landing on Siral's back, Nericaru would hold on to the back fastenings of his large armor, while Siral reaches around aimlessly and roars in anger. "Get off me your grimy little bastard!" Siral would finally get a chance to breath, realizing whoever is on him wasn't his last opponent. "…Wait, who…?" Nericaru wouldn't give the quick thinking ogre ay time as he flexes with all his might, and roars himself, heaving Siral by his own tremendous soul energy, with Nericaru pulling the giant over and now landing on his feet like a feather, he'd pick Siral up by his back, making the monster freak out and start brandishing his cleavers wildly, trying to get free, even though Nericaru's grip is supernatural, and not physical whatsoever, holding on to not the giant he would be incapable of carrying, but onto the massive amount of energy he keeps releasing, ignoring his fear aura altogether thanks to his mask, he would merely heave the giant with no effort, then bring him up and around, barreling the monster over his head and rolling his body over his shoulder as he slams the giant in a Mar'tallian Seismic Toss into the ground, rattling and unfastening most of his plate armor slightly from the tremendous shockwave of giant against tower floor. The ogre would only ground, paralyzed from the shellshock of being hit with the force of his own armor and the combination of his own weight acting against him as he had hit the ground. The only words out of his mouth in his daze as Nericaru walks away from the cloud of dust, grass, and bone shards would be a simple, "…Damn Envarius brat…" Nericaru would only smirk before making his own retort as the ogre goes back to groaning in pain and his fear aura gets weak and dies down lightly, having little effectiveness at all now and the two cleavers sounding only like gentle sobbing(like a Witch from Left 4 Dead). "You just wait there and sit pretty now until Kallen gets back to you ugly. I got my own fight to worry about. As much as I hate interventions, I also enjoy taking situations into my own hands even more. And in the case of your intervention, you could use a wardrobe change. All that armor is stenching you up fat man. Maybe if you're lucky, you'll end up somebody else's bitch after this is all done, eh Mr. Terribly Unfrightening? This is only round one for you two lovelies. Hold that into accord." Nericaru would then pace back over to his battlefield, having accomplished his job as distraction, as Siral slowly recollects himself, refastening his armor and recovering as much as he can from such a devastating blow, growling as he looks around for Kallen, now simply using his sense of smell, as the ash is still making his sight hard to see properly still to boot. Nericaru would gently pace away soundlessly towards his fight again, appearing a good eight feet ahead of Saiya in front of her, ready to deal a few finishers on her now that she's weakened. "So, all theatrics, dancing, stomping, and being dark like dainty little emotional children, how about I start ending our little sonata now and turn this quickly into a requiem. Being as how you are only here as an example anyways, I'm merely trying to 'provide' a quick end to this, Saiya. Not make this any longer than it has to be. I know you like your games long, and drawn out, but a real fighter for life, for that rush to live…" He'd clench both his fists with a confident grin, holding the trench-knives in his hands as he looks at his fists and her in comparison. The bestial clone behind her would growl and viciously scratch at the ground with his claws on both his hands and feet and his knives as he waits impatiently. The psychotic clone–If-(the binds hold chains wrap around Saiya in a high-tension 'tornado twist' bind style with the long five and a half-inch pestilence thorns digging into her and holding her scythe into her body in a wedge cyclonic fashion so both her and the scythe can't be a problem anymore unless she forces herself out)the bind held, would only grimace firmly as he attempts to hold her longer with the extended chains and pestilent, rot-inducing thorns that threaten to eat her clothing and flesh away like a virus would eat away a corpse, much like turning her into a walking zombie. Which she kind of already is as a witch, it would merely make it worse faster, threatening to make her look 'wicked witch' in this nightmare she'll experience before she ever gets old in her lifetime. He'd attempt to hold her and decay her and weaken her body more, forcing her to heal with darkness while the bestial one takes magic out as a factor. –If Not- (Situation that chains fail to hold her) The psychotic clone would only lash the chains around as he pulls them back in a protective parry so she can't use them against him as he reels the chains in for another attack from a good fifteen feet away as a ranged fighter from her right side. If he had a fourth clone of himself right now, this would not be very challenging, and he would have her surrounded. He was giving her a chance to fight, and he hoped it was clear. Though, to her, it may just be like throes of death, and the only thing she's noticing is a crazy fucking murderous assassin trying to kill her with split-persona manifestation as he fights. Nericaru was capable of other emotional manifestation clones as well, but having three out is more efficient than all of his emotions running around raising hell again. To Saiya, it was probably more like an overwhelming feeling she hasn't felt in a long time. Whether it was good or bad to a socially crazy person, it didn't matter. It was probably just the same as so many other people who feel that crucial moment in a fight to occur when the heart seems to skip a beat, in either fear, nervous tension, excitement, or sadness. Nericaru preyed on this moment more than anything else, and enjoyed this moment of a fight the most. The Heartbreaker Round where all of her soul energy, physical energy, magical energy, and her now fully apparent darkness power source are fully visible to his type of Mar'tallian eyes. This was his moment, one way or another, and it was in his favor. He was going to make this fight end in the next few moves. One way or another…
Racutio would keep running on the catwalk even as she bashes away the debris he sent at her and he'd marvel slightly out of the corner his right eye as she quickly and efficiently smacks a forklift with her gauntlets. He'd respond by stopping, turning on his right foot's heel, he'd lift his left foot, and step up onto the rail in front of him, and he'd swiftly and soundlessly like a ninja step on and balance on the ends of his toes on the rail, with his knees bend and stance quickly firmed up, he'd breathe in to force soul energy into his body, then he'd hold his left hand out, catching the hurled forklift in the palm of his left hand by one of the front forks on the piece of machinery, holding it effortlessly in Nev'ra's grasp as he uses it to club the two tiny black fireballs like a giant fly swatter, one going to the left, the other going to the right, each out of harms way as he holds the giant forklift out and lefts go, dropping it without his feet ever leaving the rail or moving his stance. He'd now rest his palms on his knees for a moment to respond to her in their combat conversation, keeping his stance firm and defensive, while also keeping note with his soul vision of his brother, and Iridan's arrival, and his Manservant and friend Maluk doing as he asked him to over their soul resonance with one another, allowing them to telepathically convey commands and responses to one another. Making them a vital team, even back in Racutio's darker days. "You know Rei, I'm starting to wonder why I haven't met you sooner. As it just so happens, I know the Furinji family, more importantly, Master Hayato Furinji. That big ass guy reminds me waaaaaayyyy too much of my Grandfather, Ryotosai, though…They act a lot alike, and are big like one another, except my gramps is as big as the average Doomday, with the looks of Hayato and the pleasantries and culture of Akisame, and the sense of humor you'd expect from only Kensei Ma himself. Not that I'm calling my gramps a dirty old man…Because he isn't…" Racutio would say that last bit with nervous hesitation, wondering if his grandfather is watching him now, really hoping his isn't. He'd go back to looking at his opponents, and smile, back to his conversation. "As it stands, I'm the one who invested in Ryozampaku no more than five years ago to help bring them back up to a proper dojo and help pay for their future dilemmas. The few times I met those masters, including Apachai Hopachai, was in their consecutive relative countries before their formed Ryozampaku. With Apachai, we were both technically teenagers comparatively, and I met him in Thailand in the Underground Deathmatch Circuit. I nearly lost and got smashed into the ground if not for the factor I head-butted him and axe-kicked him down onto his already damaged shoulder. It was a very close fight. With Hayato, I met him in the Amazon Jungle in South America as he was leaving the United states with tiny little Miu as a baby. It surprised me how well she grew up into such a beautiful fighter, and I'm glad Kenichi has a girl like that to love and care for him every time he goes down, ready to help pick him back up." After saying that, Racutio would lower his head and sigh, almost as if he missed that thing he lacked. Companionship. He'd shake his head lightly, saying no to himself almost. He'd close his eyes, and his mouth's expression would go calm and concentrated. He would hold out both of his arms, keeping his legs bent, and his hood would go up on it's own, and his hooded vest would grow longer, now having vicious looking reaper-style coat-tails in the back, and his hood would go up, as the right side of his vest manifests into a long sleeve, and fabric tears as it extends near the ends of the cuff, swiftly wrapping and weaving around his right fist and palm, and as the vest turns into a robe-like reaper jacket, his hood would also get longer and thicker, and at the end of it, a slight point would form at the end of the back of the hood before extending a few more inches, showing the signs of a reaper's hood manifestation. The shadows of his hood would make him look more like a slayer than full-blown reaper however with the way his bright red soul-seeing eyes would glow before dimming and dying down to no glow at all, making the shadows of his hood dominate most of his visage beyond his nose, making his mouth expression and his chin the only parts of him that are visible under his hood. His expression still his same confident smile. He'd continue to lean there, now in his wandering soul slayer gear he was known for as his darker side and alter-ego, Silencer. However, when he wears this jacket in a fight, it makes his openings and tell-tale signs in combat almost gone completely. Something he learned in that dimension a long time ago. "I hope this doesn't make me look too notorious. The reason I had that change of gear is because I feel like you came to me because you know of me now for more than just a game, and I feel that wearing what I wore back then might make this easier and more nostalgic for me. I find it surprising we've never met before, Rei. You seem like a fairly decent planes-walker and dimensional traveler yourself. I'm wondering why you haven't brought yourself before my tower or myself in person sooner." Racutio would look to Dervain out of the corner of his right eye with his soul-sight, making his eyes glow again. "Hello Dervain, glad you could come and enjoy the party. I had a little game brought before me, and me being me, I simply could not refuse the offer for something fun like this. It's been a long time since I've seen so many warrior's fighting at the top of my tower at once. I feel honored in fact that I'm getting to witness and experience this today. Iridan, it's also a pleasure to see you again. How goes the donation I made to helping you rebuild your palace and your kingdom more efficiently working out for you after our fight in that city? I hope you understood what I meant by 'No city is yours, for you must remake your own much like I must remake my own world' after our fight way back then now after seeing my planet for yourself. I made that donation in hopes that you can remake your kingdom with my brother's help efficiently. With him by you all the way, you should also have no problem with rebellion. My brother has been a contractor, like myself, for years, and knows how to deal with insurgency and hitmen alike. Anyways, you two can even find an open space up here. There's a good several miles to go around, and with you two fighting, you may even get a Drazien environment of some sort. Or the tower will change to something suitable to your fight, like all of us. Or you can wait until Nericaru, Kallen, Kurai, or Kendrix are done, and have a round with them. Up to you two to be honest." Racutio would look back to his opponents, his eyes glowing brightly as he smirks and grabs the rail under him in both hands and begins to pull back on it, making footholds for himself to widen his stance and lean forward, he'd hold on to the rail, ready to make his move next, he'd reach back with his right hand, hand-poised over the hilt of his great sword, with his left gripping the small rail maliciously, with each finger moving rhymically like a notorious cliché villain tapping against a flat surface in thought, all of which, on it's own on it's own accord. "Right now, I have two well-talented opponents in front of me I need to give my full attention to, and I don't have time to play host for very long, so enjoy yourselves how you will. Just don't interrupt anything. Or I will hurt you guys. And you know I will." With that, he'd wait for their next move, waiting to draw his great sword and start things off with some explosive and stunning defensive and close-quarter's combat moves. "We can talk more after this sparring game here. I would like to hear of your adventures and what brought you here to me really. The way you act, you're a lot like a Mar'tallian, but you're not one. It's…Curious, to say the least."
