[h1][center][b]The Names of Men[/b][/center][/h1]

[center][url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N3472Q6kvg0]Theme[/url][/center]

Dark wings shadowed the sun above as a single raven flew overhead while the two opponents below prepared to square off. Tablurath could feel the tension in the very air as he observed his opponent. The Lord Cardinal noted a strange pulse of power from one of the six threads that made up this one constructs strand of fate. Then came the appearance of something that instantly changed the face of the coming fight significantly. His opponent possessed a shield? He knew already that this would affect how he could approach the situation. Adjusting his strategies to compensate. 

An aggressive approach however, may still be preferred, he’d just need to get...creative.     

The wind blowing in from the west was picking up slowly but surely- something not lost on Tablurath. His opponent started walking toward him then at a steady pace. His posture rather neutral for someone who was about to engage in a life and death battle. Perhaps this suggested a lack of self-perseverance that existed in many similar constructs?  

His opponent chose that moment to introduce themselves, which Tablurath accepted with a single nod of the head. [color=black]“Isaiah Core...”[/color] Khanza breathed under his breath. A name could speak volumes of a man; especially self-given ones. Tablurath had never been given a name when he was but a simple trainee in the Project Tribune program. He had been a number. Nothing more nothing less. Stripped of mercy, humanity -- guilt. Left with only hatred and a will to survive. The Angar-Rylla had sought nothing less than the creation of the perfect weapon. In him they had succeeded in that much at least.

As always remembering those cold lonely years before he had been reborn were painful. He had gone on to fight for the honor and glory of the Empire. Honor? What did his opponent know of honor? It was but a word used to enslave men to the cause their sovereign deemed just. What could a mere machine know of the implications and struggles brought on by that simple word? It lead to death more oft than justice. This was his truth. 

Tablurath cleared such distracting thoughts from his mind as he exhaled, focusing on the task at hand. He could feel the slow increase of the drumming of his heart as anticipation began to swell within him. Very well then, let the dance begin.

Knowing that the Mibs still coated both his blades Tablurath raised his right hand sword so that it pointed directly at his opponent. Then without blinking an eye he underhand tossed it directly into the air, measuring the exact strength and effort needed. Already he had calculated the probability of success and the time of its flight. No sooner had his saber been sent up did Tablurath suddenly bend his knees and raced forward. Closing the gap between them currently in moments. 

At the distance of five feet, unless his opponent drastically changed his position suddenly before then, Tablurath whipped his left hand sword up then forward in a tight swing from lower left to upper right apparently aimed for the young mans head. His left foot leading and right foot braced, ready to shift position; not forward but in the exact opposite direction. Combat had officially began.