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Thank you.

America Gladiators was creepy. Those women looked like men... no boobs whatsoever... just pecs. Seriously like WTF?!

lol Y'all are so funny thinking I'm all serious and offended. When I'm actually offended by something you say, Jest, I'll let you know. Hell, I'll straight up cuss your ass out in front of everyone. That's when you go about apologizing or explaining.

I actually used the name because of its meaning, Rhyykol. I didn't even pay attention to your signature until just now...
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Sounds like a plan. And yes, finally a post. Wasn't so much a lack of time but sometimes putting my ideas to paper just doesn't seem to work out right. But I managed.
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Billows of dust and smoke thicken the air, Kain clenching his teeth in frustration as a haunting voice ripples through the Force. "Kyōbōna..." ir murmurs, the single, nearly silent word weighed with such dark power it seems to slither across his skin, echoing in the depths of his mind. The vampire growls, the sound low and primal, cutting the air with a silver-hued sword, the powerful swing producing a small gust of wind which parts the obscuring cloud around him.

Hakai dramatically emerges from a similar formation of smoke and other particles, the identical yet blackened blade he wields imbued with a ferocious spirit which screams through the Force. "Kyōbōna!" it cries violently, Hakai flashing a wicked grin as those two blades suddenly clash in a heated frenzy.

"Bastard!" Kain curses through barely constrained rage, releasing an intense burst of Force energy which propels his demonic counterpart away from him. Hakai flips, successfully managing to regain his footing before he skids to a stop. Kain releases a heavy breath, his shoulders slumping slightly as if he bore some tremendous burden.

"Kyōbōna..." he whispers breathlessly, leaning upon that ageless sword for the support his knees refused to give him at the moment, his eyes tracing those ancient words etched deep into the blade. Etched deep into his soul. Blind destruction. He'd forgotten his own power. Forgotten how easily it could devour him.

Hakai cocks his head to the side in amusement. Kyōbōna was a dangerous ally and one it took a great amount of strength to bring to heel. His King's strength, however, seemed more focused on fighting the guilt of past wrongs. If he were careless now, if he did not prove himself a worthy King... then he would cease to bear that prestigious crown.

"What's wrong, eh, King?" he taunts on a small chuckle. "I'm just tryin' to 'ave a lil' fun wit' ya," he adds innocently.

The redhead's eyes narrow, a dangerous gleam to their golden shine. "Shut tha f**k up."

A devious smile curls Hakai's lips, the black-haired demon suddenly attacking Kain in an effort to make sure the other was alert and on his toes. "Don't lose yer focus!" he warns, silver and black colliding again and again, Kain struggling to block Hakai's increasingly aggressive blows. "Unless ya want me ta chop that ugly head off yer shoulders!"

"Try it!" the vampire challenges on a short breath, mustering his strength. He pushes back against Hakai's blade, forcing the other to put some distance between them. Golden eyes flare with terrifying power as Kain then brings his word up in a sharp arc. "Kyōbōna Gekido!"

For an instant, Hakai's eyes widen in surprise at the unstable arc of dark energy which erupts from Kain's blade. His King was certainly bold; he'd give him that much. Not that it would be enough to end this. Hakai raises a quick arm, the simple appendage −clad in iron skin −acting as a mighty sword which splits the beam of energy so that it misses him completely. The two halves do, however, impact with the building behind Hakai, the structure immediately crumbling as a result.

Kain gasps in shock, the insignificant sound escaping him before he can stop it, Hakai smirking in response. The demon then vanishes for an instant, reappearing as he bears down upon Kain, their blades viciously locking in that timeless struggle neither seemed to ever truly win in the end. A feral grin teases Hakai's lips. But this time would be different. This time there would be no escape for his King.

He leans forward until his words are nothing but a ghost of a whisper in Kain's ear. "Checkmate... Kyōbōna Gekido..."

o.O.o

It seemed like an eternity waiting for this nightmare to come to its final conclusion, and he was beginning to worry. While Kain's struggle with Hakai was a constant one, he'd only undergone this stage once before. Even then it had only been brought about by Slade in an attempt to confront the origins of the younger vampire's rage. The ensuing battle had lasted less than a minute, and yet it had devastated an entire city, Slade forced to combat Kain's uncontrollable inner demon on a physical as well as mental scale.

But this time, Kain was fighting against himself. And his inner demon was not a submissive beast easily quelled by an uncertain hand.

o.O.o

George walks down a narrow hallway barely illuminated by some unseen light. He seemed to know this place and the way which would lead him to his desired destination. And yet at the same time he didn't. Were he to stop and contemplate how his feet knew which path to take he would be utterly lost among a labyrinth of incomplete corridors and collapsing ruins.

The Jedi suddenly steps into an open area, sand scattered across the floor here and there, an ancient altar surrounded by unnatural flames of blue which emit an erie feel. Tattered drapes, faded by time, draw George's attention up where from their lofty height, two intimidating stone statues overlook the room. Sets of stairs lead up to another doorway which Leina and the others had slipped through not long ago.

George begins to head towards this door but finds his eyes drifting towards that scared altar as he passes, the very blood in his veins demanding he answer its silent call. The fire around the altar dims as the Jedi approaches, however, and with one last flicker it dies. The ground beneath his feet trembles, and an enormous beast bursts forth from beneath the altar, the entire ordeal throwing George against the nearest wall.

The beast abruptly turns to face him, multiple tusks protruding from jaws hidden behind an age-old mask. It roars in furious rage, pinning George beneath its bloodthirsty gaze as it charges towards him. A flash of silver suddenly brings the creature violently to its kness, however, the smell of burning flesh singeing the Jedi's nostrils. The beast groans in pain before its cry is silenced by the lightsaber plunged deep into its skull.

Slade stands to his feet, yanking that silver blade from its victim. Blue and gold seem to swirl in some fateful dance within the depths of troubled eyes as the vampire turns to face George. "It's done, dalit," he whispers, the words so soft the Jedi almost doesn't catch them. "We shouldn't waste time," he then adds, his voice still low but audible. "We're close."

...Central 49; unknown location...

Heavy footsteps send faint echoes across the massive room, armored boots clanking against that ancient floor as he slowly makes his way towards the center of the large room illuminated by a single beam of light. "Tyrael," a familiar voice calls from the darkness. "You return. I suspect the matter has been properly dealt with?"

The valsai'ium steps into the light, the putrid stench of blood suddenly so overwhelming, and the sight before them so foul, that a number of those within the chamber almost vomit. Horns protrude from either side of his skull, an eye now void of all color bleeding profusely as a darker substance leaks past his lips. Ancient words lie etched into the flesh of his chest above the universal symbol for chaos, the tattoo surrounded by skin barely held together by poor stitchwork.

Tyrael raises a weak arm, the palm of his hand marked with the blood of that demonic king, claw-like nails reaching towards the darkness as the valsai'ium falls to his knees. "I... I failed..."

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Still trying to decide what I want Dmitri and them to do next. I know I've been putting it off for a while but I mean I have an idea... I'm just trying to decide if I like it or if I just want them... idk... I'll figure it out. Anyway, I know you're probably wondering how I mixed a badass double bladed lightsaber with a knife and just got a sword. But this is only Kyōbōna's first release. You don't see the true form until the second release. Besides that sword still kicks ass.

Kyōbōna Gekido: Berserker's Roar
     A special attack with devastating power and massive destruction capabilities. A mixture of dark energy and its wielder's life force. Impossible to survive at close range.

Alright so Tyrael wasn't that torn up looking but I couldn't post something really grotesque. Besides I want him to still kinda look okay ya know? And in case you're wondering... Tyrael's now a newborn. Mortis up and changed his ass into a vampire. Wonder where all this is leading...

Also I'll be reintroducing a few vampires in the coming posts. Don't ya wonder what Razvan's been off doing this entire time? XD Think that about does it. Everything else is rather self explanatory I believe. Coming your way Prince.

Oh hell no it won't. There will never be that many Mexicans. They may bred like f**king bunnies but the actual American races (i.e. blacks and whites) got them beat by a long shot... a f**king long shot.

Mighty as in strong or vigorous. Mighty doesn't mean might as in maybe.

First of all, Prince and Jest... y'all have a tenancy to gang up on George especially recently, and I have plenty of evidence to back up my accusation so feel free to try me. Y'all need to get over whatever the hell is bothering you about him and move on like grown adults. He's a Serb. So what? He doesn't like America all that much. So what? If this is the America we claim it to be then he has a right to his own damn opinion, and y'all don't have any authority or right to berate him about it.

George... don't give them fuel for the fire. You know the sore spots and you have a tenancy of pushing their buttons. I don't have time for this constant back and forth bickering among y'all so do your damndest to avoid the crap which lights that short fuse of theirs. I understand your unfortunate feelings about America but we can't do anything to change her past so there's no point in getting all worked up about spilt milk. Let sleeping dogs lie for crying out loud.

Everyone's at fault here. I've already established that so don't none y'all whine about me being partial to the other party. I don't want to hear it. I'm not trying to be mean. I simply care about y'all too much to just sit here and watch ya eat at each other all the damn time. I understand a disagreement here or there and an argument or two but this is f**king ridiculous. I'm completely fed up and utterly disappointed that you have not the respect for me nor yourselves to end this pointless rivalry.

Thank God for all those years of foreign languages. ^_^ Que tal is Spanish for "that so." I believe Prince means "hermano" as in "brother," however, and not "hermando."