Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-35000153-20180614210314/@comment-33719112-20180822210450

From the smeared chalk marks, a figure, clad in slightly rusted armor, emerges from the ground, tattered sash rippling from the gush of wind that erupted from the summoning site. His sword was raised to the sky, a bony, toothed monster of a weapon that glowed with a reddish hue. He faced his summoner, performing a curt bow.

Then it hit him, the wave of cherry infused smell of musk and sweat. He was here. ''Again. ''How the hell did he get summoned back into this strange, perverted land? His sword faltered, and he brought it back into his sheath, and threw his hands up in the air. A fight club would've been a nice change of pace, but this? At the very least, he wasn't a summon for a dire situation that was called out of haste to bail out his summoner at the last minute.

However, from the shouting and crack of bone and sinew behind him, he felt that he was brought forth from beyond the veil for exactly that purpose. Fight something the summoner couldn't handle themself. Slowly, he turns to face the thing that he was most likely summoned to fight, and is greeted with bodily horror, with some sort of -it's always a woman, isn't it- riding atop it. This isn't his first rodeo with an eldritch horror. He fought against demon hordes during the aftermath of Gwyn's crusade against the monsters that plagued Izalith, then against those knights themselves as they fell to insanity and corruption. Even the Soul of Cinder, an entity created of all those who had given themselves to the flame, couldn't best him in a duel to the death. He wouldn't let some no-name creature defeat him so easily.

He turned back to his summoner, and held an open palm out to him, a warning to stop, and stay where he was. He unsheathed his sword, his other hand erupting in blackflame, the pitch black energy a dark simulcra of real fire, burning with an unnatural chill that coated his hand and engulfed his blade.

The fighting seemed to be fierce. Multiple combatants, all against one. They were all strange to him. A dragon, he hated fighting those things, a handful of humans, or the local species of fauna close to the human form, and a face he did recognize, another armored figure he remembered fighting alongside some time ago. At least, he wouldn't be fighting completely independently.

He sprinted towards the beast, no battle cry to signify his presence, aside from the cackle of the false fire that he tossed at the vile creature.