A Unrealistic melee/blade fight between two new users.

.. The cancerous sun, the cankerous heat and the cantankerous cold are heart-haunting. Everything in this God-forsaken place is either wicked and warped or blasted and burned. Golden Graisn shimmering in the trillion of sun-spears that rained down from the ball of fire that hung in the sky arrogantly; its callous face toasting the skin of men and women who ran to the wintry cold arms of the ocean. Minerals in the sand swayed to and fro with each passive wave.

Above it, the sky leeered down at them with a manacle-grey hue, like an ashen face. It seemed to compress down upon their minds, such was its throttling effect. Their hearts became heavy, sinking their weights down into the sparkling ocean. Pebbles whisked about the underwash like the little pieces of glitter. A galaxy of dragonflies fizzed through the beams of light, wings a-glirr in the magical space between water and air. The sounds of children playing enlightened spirits.

The ground shook compellingly, cracks revealing its true nature of destruction with the area. The source of the beach had become engulfed in flames of red. The crimson red optics poking out from the fire and revealing phalanges that reached out into the air. Flames dying out, sinking into the ground below the heels of his naked feet. There the muscular figure stood at six feet tall, the ruby red kimono tucked into the long and drooping white overalls. Expanding the aura of fear about the beach.

Quickly, the immediate vicinity was infected with the aura of his power. The sword lay sheathed in its imprisonment that was tied to his back, right above his buttocks. The sword was named Sinryuishi.. given to him by an older brother. They were both indeed erudite in the ring of blade fighting. Though, the thing about it was.. it was a switchblade katana. .. It had been roughly measured to about fourteen feet long, the circumference curved inward so that it could easily catch blades and parry them to the side; whilst disarming them.

His long, obsidian black hair had been stuck in a pony tail, the scraggly strands of hair had ran down to stop at the middle section of his spinal cord which was draped with olive-skinned flesh. His hardened jaw bones had tightened along with his teeth crowns pushing and scratching against eachother. The cross shaped scar upon his right cheek had been shown within the vicinity with a slight look from the people about. He stumbled onward; like a drunken fool, the toes digging into the cracks of the ground created by his enormous strength.

A blade in his right hand signified himself to be ready for his opponent