A Need for Speed (Copy/Pseudo-Exam)

» "Mh.. For someone who prides himself on travel. I can honestly say- I've never been near Motor City" He muttered to his diminutive companion, whom trotted beside him with vigor- to keep up mainly.
"Of course! For good reason; us nobles shouldn't ever come close to this hell-hole!" Excalibur somehow scruffed his nose to look disjointed and displeased. It was no surprise. But in-spite his verbal reluctance, the otherwise formally adorned pip-squeek. Was entirely decked out in biker gang gear, black military helmet, leather jacket with shoulder spikes- Whole deal. It was quite entertaining for Copy.



Having taken a deep breath, the travel was appreciated no less. The sandy-dirt and dryness didn't seem to bother Copy- In fact, through his travels. Nothing environmental seemed to bother him- Strange.
Excalibur on the other hand, was a net for wind and sand. He looked genuine at-least.
It was around this point the two had pulled into sight to Ardere. Granting the Guild-Leader with  a wave to notify him of his good intention and arrival. "Hey! Sorry I took so long." His tone always carried some monotone hints, but it sounded sincere.
Excalibur rolled its bead-eyes at that comment. "You're miserable with having to see everything!" throwing a scoff, he stood an inch in-front of Copy, as he looked over the bikes. A show of superiority over Copy; or that was his intent.
Motioning with his left hand to Excalibur that stood significantly shorter than the two. "If you two haven't met. This is Excalibur, my companion by fate." Having eyed the bike himself he nodded in approval, thankfully Excalibur was a small and short individual, he could easily fit with Copy.

---

Moving over to the bike after they discussed the matter and Ardere's inclination to get mounted. Copy did just that, having tied his hair back into a pony-tail, leaving some fringe to be desired in-front of him. Testing the functions of the bike and seeing what did what. For a wanderer, he often stuck to his feet. So it came to mind "What have i gotten myself into."
It was answered with the low-roar of the bike's engines. And Excalibur's cheers of eagerness.

"Onward we go then, lead the way sir!"

» (Making your text color different, since we use the same #)

The abnormal sounds to Copy of the engines, the clanging, banging and other unruly echoes of the city were causing a stir in Copy's mind to stay focused. He had to of course, they were in hostile territory and that was an understatement for Infinity Hydra especially.
"Watch your back. We've got company." the words resounded in his mind and stirred himself into the now. The young-man's eyes steeled and narrowed into focus. "Understood!" With a roar of energy around Copy, the bike and its riders were coated in a grey-steel color aura, that flowed much like water and flickered like fire. A strange sight for sure, but it was no better timed when a knife had been tossed from the rooftops down towards Copy. Only to have the tip meet with Copy's skin and 'ting' right off. "Hn..? Our foes are bold.-- Tch. Excalibur take the bike!" in hind-sight, leaving a motorized vehicle to a barely child-height creature wasn't ideal. But for the future reference, he somehow managed.

---

In the stir of the moment, Copy had stood atop the seat of the bike and maintained its balance long enough for Excalibur to switch out. At that point he extended his left hand and the aura contorted into a body-sized ethereal hand. "Transportation of the Broken!" firing out at bullet-speeds to the roof tops, Copy's body was drug along with conviction. Namely he launched himself skywards. To get a birds-eye view- Literally.
As he lofted in the air while gravity took its time to change his direction. The man reached out to his side as the tattoos along his right-arm oozed and created tendrils of energy that manifested ultimately into a blade. "Shiranai's Grimoire!" and so a blade of pure dark-blue/black energy with a holy-cross handle-guard and handle was created. Ardere, could fairly easily tell it had some ties to something evil. But the wielder told a different story, having been entirely good himself.

Now as he fell. He took sight of a number of the riders, it would be a long-shot to see if he even managed to hit; but it was worth the try. If to show the strength of what he could do.
During the descent a high-pitched screech started to erupt from the blade itself as his aura began to flow into his blade. "Destiny Destroyer!" wielding the blade to his right side, he swung in three swift arcs. Why? One would typically ask as he was quite a distance from the targets. But were soon answered- with the flowing energy slashes that caressed the skies and cleaved through the buildings. By the time it reached the enemies the wave was 10-Feet wide, the blades themselves soared at 30 feet a second! It was notably, a very destructive technique. Having halted none against the metallic structures and other miscellany of the environment.
Without much else he could do at such a distance, his body fell with grace to the top of a building. He knew despite their bikes, they used metal. He was good against metal. And so he collided with the top, one knee to the material and the other lifting him slowly. As if the landing caused no damage to him. They fought in his environment now!

» Or so he initially thought. While Copy was successful for the initial confrontation; their opponents weren’t necessarily genius-archetypes, but they were combat clever. With quick realization that Copy was otherwise safe from the ailments and injury that would normally be inflicted by metal.  Their tactics had to change, or at the very least- Some of theirs did.
Had Copy known that a number of them devised ulterior tactics, he could have prepared; but none the less. He stood there prepared and willing to combat those that homed in on his bike-less self; while from his angle he couldn’t entirely gauge the numbers, his sense was developed enough to tell him ‘enough’ were coming to be nuisance. While he wielded his blade of energy afore him, his stance was solid; with potential in force and agility- Much like most of his combat, he resembled that of a Ronin that ‘took’ what he needed from tradition, and fought a lot more free-form beyond that. Perhaps that would be his saving grace in this conflict.

With the velocity of the bikes in tow, it took very little time for the foes to close their distances. The first slew of strikes and ‘drive-bys’ were with crowbar, shiv and other unwieldly items that were fashioned into tools of killing, these folk were of course not entirely aware of the silver energy that warded away the effects of tool. With each, passing blow that he ‘parried’ with his blade, which in reality was far from necessary. The bone like apparatus’ that ethereally formed in each direction he was struck seemed to be draining the essence of life from his opponents. Not enough to force them to drop, but more and more their states grow sluggish.
While the clangs of steel quietly and briefly muffle out the churns of the world around them, it struck drums in Copy’s heart and mind, each passing moment drew his focus into a sharper steel. Elevating his prowess of combat and attributing himself into the element of combat.

This of course, is too in a sense. A burden, when one grows too engrossed in a traditional fight- They sometimes miss the magical components. This had occurred with abruptness and force. As a colorless wave of wind-magic busted through the clashing duelists and forced its way into Copy and his defenses. While he was able to stifle the impact to some extent, his form however was still sent flying backwards across the rooftop- inevitably into a concrete protrusion, one that lead deeper into the building below- A stairwell.
Call it a reality check but the bludgeoning injuries from both the wind and concrete were painful reminders that he was far from invincible. If a bit short-lived in his descent into the abandoned metallic complex below, he was going to have to play it carefully. Mages and combatants, he was clearly out-numbered with the metal objects, so it was wiser to maintain that soul. But the wind was going to be a challenge he thought. The hollers of a break in Copy’s defense were heard, followed by the charging steps of the lot into the building he lay in. The dust and debris served as a temporary bed, whilst he bathed in the glow of light that poured through the windows.
“What a bother…” He belittled himself in tone and the circumstances that found him in his position. The blade was still wielded as if it were tied to him, and his clothes were very quickly shown the flavors of battle. His armor, damaged but repairing itself endlessly. In the moment, he took a slowly drawn breath- eyes closed for the moment and allowed his body and mind to reposition themselves for more of a hybrid combative scenario. – Sure he had Ardere to back him up. But this wasn’t Ardere’s fight.

“It’s mine.”

---

As the numbers expanded into the floor he resided in, there he was already somewhat prepared. Standing, with his blade held to his right-side; left hand pointed towards them. “Arsenal of the Broken” He uttered in simple tones, as the aura around him visually contorted and manifested a slew of spears and swords impaled into the ground. With a flick of his wrist they all lived and unleashed themselves, pointed ends directed at his foes.

And when the dust settled…

(Going to leave the actual ‘success’ up to you, makes it more challenging for me and uncertain; at this point it gives you room to add or interject if you want)

» It would be quaint, almost reassuring to be able to say 'When the dust settled'.
This however, is not the case. As the screams, hollars and rallying cries of his foes pierced through the debris and dust that had the room they inhabited swollen with misdirection of environment both visually and audibly. The only sense of direction and eventually a staple of where is enemies lie, was when the plumes of dust were pierced through it's veil, a handful of chains of magical properties erupted through and were targeting Copy with little regard of anything near him; perhaps something he could wield in his advantage. If only for some minutes.
With his own powers in tow, the grey-steel aura that surrounded Copy was more than sufficient to deal with the chains. But Ardere was concerned regardless, so there was perhaps more to it than what he saw. Convincing? Enough to be drawing this from the young-man. As the chains lofted mid-air for the split seconds they traveled. The air seemed to still for only a moments pass as a roar echoed
"Mocking Blade!" Within' that vacuumed space that Copy inhabited a sharp hiss and cracking force of power, the grey-steel 'aura' condensed in on itself, wearing itself around Copy in a five-foot radius like some sort of state-of-being. The ground around Copy started to slowly crack, giving out piece by piece; the windows rattled and shattered. And the chains that came veering towards and around him; were immediately expelled by the sheer force being exerted. An unreal show of his power for sure, but what could be discerned is even Copy was slowed, heavily during this state.
While the chains had been expanded and extended, and not directed at Copy. They were directed towards the walls, floor and ceiling of the damaged building. Causing even more collateral to ricochet through the metal and concrete.
All it took was one progressed step across the concrete to send the remainder of the building falling in on itself- This included Copy, falling a few stories through the collapsing concrete and metal; a combination of both his mocking blade and wanderer's soul were more than sufficient to sustain the staggering damage to anyone else- Unfortunately, he cannot be certain those that afflicted themselves with the collapse could say the same.

It took a few moments of what felt like forever to Copy to pull himself out of the wreckage, the flaring force of his former spell still actively ravaging everything near him without relent, the debris, the steel, plant-life and anything near him was begin weighted down by an unseen force of power. Granting him a relatively straight-path into the main street where Ardere was located.
Inconveniently, where Excalibur was not located. He assumed he got too excited and started joy-riding...

So he stood there, gauging what was happening in-front of him. Namely Ardere and his opponents.

» After the sight afore him settled down between Ardere and his engagement. His attention was inevitably drawn to where his Guild-Master's was. The billowing smoke was by far difficult to not notice. It was at that point that the sound of another motorbike had revved up from behind them.

"The King as arrived!" It was of course, Excalibur back from his joy-ride. Given the distance of their opponents, it gave ample time for Copy to hop on and get a grasp of things. Revving up he stared at the incoming smoke, their foes were still a minute or two away.

"I don't have to tell you to be careful, Copy. So let's just make it through these guys, then try and find their base."

He had let either hand fall to his sides and watched silently for a moment, his body was exhausted and shown signs of wear. But judging from his ally; he might be in worse shape than himself. A troublesome scenario; there was of course Excalibur and Shiranai. Excalibur wasn't much of a direct fighter and calling for Shiranai was both a boon and burden, besides. Ardere may not appreciate a god of death showing up to aid them, might speak some negativity in terms of who Copy is.

Having run a hand through the fringe of his hair. "Ever get the feeling we face armies for only so few of us- All too frequently? I do."
It wasn't really clear who he was talking too, perhaps to himself. Or Excalibur whom didn't respond. And so he brought either hand to the handles and revved it once more. The screeching smoked behind him and the two on his bike took off, presuming Ardere would be shortly behind them.

Weaving through a number of streets to close the distance from the source of the smoke; it was safe to assume that was the area their base was. Upon the sight of their opponents arrived, it was no where near as many as before- Only two people. A woman and man.

The woman appeared rather roughed up, more toned and refined than the man from where they were; more revealing clothes and otherwise seemed the better of the two.
The man was big form wise, but not terribly muscular and decked out in spikey-stereotypical biker gear. While neither had weapons on them, it seemed they were prepared for combat, mages most likely.

To start things off, Copy had called upon the love-craftian blade from his tattoos and drew out an energy store. With a horizontal frontal slash it started towards their foes with relative speed- something they both were able to evade but caused a brief separation once they drew in about forty-feet from the two Hydras.
Copy, as always. Was standing on the bike now, Excalibur prepped to continue controlling it. The battle was to begin, what was Ardere going to do?

» After Ardere had taken the lead in combat. It left Copy to kick off the bike, Excalibur mounted still but not departing. After-all, he’s faced many foes and Copy was showing signs of wear in-spite all of his resilience.

A slow drawn breath is what it took to bring the steel back to Copy’s eyes. The blade of a Shinigami was resting for blood in his hand. All that was needed was to act.

”Act.”

The words wielded a certain power of initiative in his body and mind. But they appeared to do so for the man that stood across from him- They had some distance between them thankfully. Besides, his opponent was pretty—rotund. What’s the worst that could happen he thought?

Upon taking his first step it started. The man slammed both fists together at the plenty-yards away and a black ooze started to gloop from his hands- or where they were. “Tar-Make! Geyser!” without a moment’s notice, either of his hands railed into the earth and a black blob begun to boil underneath Copy. Firing skywards with him in harm’s way.

”Tch- Not prepared for this!” He yelped, he felt the sting on his feet as soon as the boil launched into the air; thankfully some of the stonework held out long enough for him to lunge towards the man. Unfortunately, he was sky-bound- And a swordsman they didn’t mesh well together.
But, such is something he did prepare for. With a swift reaction of his left arm, he fired out an arm of auratic energy that careened nearby to his opponent and drew Copy at remarkable speeds to close their distances. Flipping through the air once he found his motion, he landed with a spray of dirt and debris, sliding ten feet behind and to the left of the man. Ideal positioning he thought; but his foe was plenty aware of where Copy was.
With a quick slash horizontally he had utilized a thin wire of energy to fire out a wave of aura towards the man. Which was swiftly deflected with a spray of the black-tar. It was thick and magical; something that he was also not capable of merely adjusting his aura to match. A trying situation, but one he must learn to fight against. So he drew the blade forwards and pointed the tip towards the man.

”I am Copy, today I will be your opponent!”

» The fight was brought into closer-quarters. Thankfully, it was an advantage Copy needed against his opponent, while not fully connecting the dots; he had gathered some brief moments that it took for the magic of his opponent to travel to himself. With a buffer of transfer of his foes magic, it was ideal for Copy to force him no time to cast. Or so he figured.

"Copy...? What a goofy name. Sounds more like a nickname! Haha! No matter, I won't introduce myself, I'll crush you here and it won't matter!"

"Ah-- Uh.. Right. -- It is my real name really!"

Perturbed if only a little by his opponents mannerisms, or his subtle and poorly designed insult.
If only encouraging the grip of his blade further, he felt a growing inclination to defeat the man before him. Perhaps it was warranted, he saw Ardere bleeding earlier; whether he required aid or not, Copy felt as if he needed to at the very least grant the option to his Guildmaster.

During the lull of combat, it may have been visibly noticed around Copy's body. The wounds that were inflicted from earlier, gouges, bruises and cuts were slowly sewing themselves closed with what looked almost metallic. A wound on his hand drew his attention as it grew a sleeve of metal to atone the damages.

"Right... Well, I think I'm ready to pull out my stops then. Here's to hoping Ardere doesn't catch wind right off the bat."

Clenching his left fist, he directed the front of it towards the sky. "Bullet Rain!" and with an audible 'fwomp!' a blast of metal roared into the skies and molded near instantly turning hundreds of bullet points towards the foe and sequentially begun to fire a horde of raining bullets down atop him. Impacting the earth and stone near sending the 'clinking' sounds of metal to stone with a blur of debris and dust to inflect the force.

Sprays of tar were seen splattering through the plumes of destruction.

"Tar-Make! Tor-!" A blast of tar was unleashed through the continuing and perpetual blasts of magic, until the end of its resource of magic. Granting Copy full control of himself to deal with.
This enabled him to stride through his own elements and close the distance of his foe- hearing the moment of 'tar-make' granted some clarity of where his enemy resided in the mess.

"Destiny Destroyer!"

A shrill screech of energy coursed through his magical blade, sending shivers to nearby listeners. As he had leaped just barely over head and fired a full-forced strike downwards, granting an allowance of bullets to rain into the tar-mage, while enforcing a full-blown knock-back to careen him into the earth.

Amidst the dust, Copy had been trying to regain his wits int he disorientating blur of dust. But it was of his own creation. And the sound of shrapnel and bullets continued to course into the clouded field. His foe was still here, whether he was conscious- Or alive, he wasn't sure. So his guard retained its poise. Awaiting to see.