Jin vs Doctor Rozel | 2020 - April 17-22

Victors: Jin (Abel Hatzis/Trey Casius revamp)
Deceased: Doctor Rozel✝
Battle Duration: 4/17 - 4/22 2020
Round 1:

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Tyson post:

Somewhere in a realm far away is where the Heavenly Tournament begins. A single satellite tower drifting in the endless void of space. The satellite offers a variety of illicit entertainment, booze, women, underground fights, and gambling. It is a place where strangers can safely rest, get news of the world, and purchase illegal goods. All species are welcome despite very few knowing who is the proprietor. Its owner is an absolute mystery. Nobody knows where he came from, why he decided to build this satellite, or why he decided to name it “Your Mom's Playhouse”. Many have asked only to get a free drink and a smile in return. In terms of layout, “Your Mom's Playhouse” comprises a dozen floors. Each respectively contains casinos, restaurants, gardens, lodgings, nightclubs, and shopping complexes. A well inhabited space station famous for black markets and large rambunctious ambiance. Your Mom's Playhouse is an oasis for everyone.

If you enjoy pancakes, striptease, and some of the universe's most expensive and exquisite spirits on the rocks or mixed, one of Your Mom's most popular places is the “Candy Shop.” Just like the rest of the satellite, artificial oxygen flows in the 3,000 square foot establishment that triples as a bar, diner, and burlesque club. A dress code is strictly maintained despite the depravity that commonly occurs here.

Navy jeans and an amethyst dress shirt adorned his body. Both composed of a special fabric that could withstand his surreal strength and the presence of his mystical elements. Upon his wrist was a silver/burgundy bracelet, Nyx his Caxius bracelet, a weapon of sentient Nothing. A weapon that was similar to the Apio seal tattooed on his tongue: he preferred never to use them unless pushed to his limits. Clipped to his alligator skin belt is Pip, his mystical coin purse that carries Eko weapons: daggers, bolas, and various bullets. Another item of Eko was his right appendage. From shoulder blade to his very fingers, is his prosthesis bearing a pores within the forearm and a white noise emitter within. The Last Aria is what he called the arm tattooed in glyphs of Axiom magic. Leaning up against the stool Aerys sat on is his pride and joy, Raza his sentient claymore. The sword of the Astral Dragon. A weapon that is the heart of a Sun, is what made Aerys the heart of a Storm. Raza is a large claymore roughly about 55" in total length, with a 42" straight, two-edged blade weighing about 5.5 pounds. The handle is long enough to accommodate both of his hands even though he wields it single-handedly. It is wrapped in ethereal purple fabrics. Despite being a blade, it contains a Dracarys who instills several passives within Aerys and acts as his trusted companion and friend. It was what allowed him to channel Zhato; Nether based ergo-matter created for plasma/water bending. One of four Sabres, Eko metal based 7 inch hilts, sat next to his left hand along the counter top. Left hand moved to tussle the wild mahogany and ivory tresses upon his head whereas auric hues focused on the black and white boxes in front of him.

At nine in the afternoon, the 6'2” extraterrestrial vampyr known by his alias “Aerys Rïvia” sat at the bar with a pen in hand, a newspaper, a bottle of Ol' Dusseldorf, and several napkins sprawled in front of him. Many know him as one of the candy shop's frequent patrons since the Nutella crepes are worth dying for. A taste that made enhanced senses explode in absolute euphoria. Aerys liked this place so much that he decided to have his match for the Heavenly Tournament here. Surprisingly enough, the owner agreed and reserved the entire space for the fight. The lights for the entrance were off while at the far end, past the many poles and center stage sat Aerys on a stool underneath neon lights. The Eternal struggled with a crossword puzzle that baffled a hyper-intellect such as his own. Hopefully his match would be much easier.

Doc's Post:

Who would've thought that there would be the collective of civilizations in one place, situated adrift in a place of the unknown no less? Established to provide the usual convenience for the needs and the surplus of any being, yet it is catered to an anthropological sense—something considered to be quite too convenient to be real. Built and run, like one of your average shopping malls in daily life.

He's talking about how the space station is being run right now.

Nonetheless, it is said to be where the the first round of the so-called Heavenly Tournament, and one of the Doctorate is invited to participate. Exploration is but one of their motivations, seeking to discover the significance of the world around them from within. A motive considered noble, for knowledge and understanding paves the way for enlightenment; a state to be best pursued during a mortal lifetime.Truly sit back and relax at the oasis provided by the proprietor, and see this Doctor striding to the bar in a dark doorstep. Clad in the corporate clothing of black and white, would the monochrome color scheme grant him the impression of being bland and mediocre, or be regarded as simple and classy? Specially crafted to withstand supernatural power to an extent and be an extension for his abilities, he came prepared. To his appearance, he may not look like much; but I tell you, he's the kind to keep the cards close to his chest. Marks were drawn to his palms, front and back, a series of ornate patterns tattooed and blanketed by his own black gloves. A wand can be seen resting on one side of the hip. Crudely shaped akin to a twig, with an onyx jewel embedded to its head. Accompanying Rozel's arsenal are the glyphs and sigils, along with his knowledge and understanding of alchemy for it served as the base foundation of his abilities, particularly his forte—spellcrafting.

Peering through the entire place, with a peculiar setting adjusted so that the lighting is focused on that one particular person, the Doctor huffed under his breath. Deductive reasoning ran across his mind, like gears spinning rapidly for an overclocked machine, he pondered upon with impartial focus; to both the person lighted in the center stage, and the darkened environment. And there he drew out his wand, with slender fingers feeling its warmth while one of the jewel's magick began to pulsate and ring with harmless waves of azure light like ripples in a pond, traveling across every solid surface; a wordless invitation. Perhaps, has he already noticed the Doctor's presence given that the former is no ordinary individual to begin with? Such ambient darkness need nay suspense; if both of them are able to navigate through such opacity, then it would not be needed after all. Maybe Doctor Rozel would let his would-be foe finish his preoccupied activity first. But clandestinely, the wielding palm that holds the wand began to give out a glow on the etched mark, a notification of its activation.