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I want to fight a veteran. If I feel you are not a fitting challenger, I reserve the right to decline.

Yuki is restless...

Don't worry, I'm not trying to fight you, I know I'm obviously not a veteran. I just posted here because I hope to see a good 'ol Veteran match.

See my open challenge. You may not know me but I've been around a long time.

A vet match eh? I'll keep an eye on it.

If you're up for it, IRHP.

I didn't mean for that to sound like I was planning to participate. I was only intending on spectating.

Sorry for the confusion. I'm certainly no veteran, but I am glad that you would have accepted a battle with me.

However, if nobody else takes you up on your challenge here soon, I'll have a go at it with you. I'm only kind of declining right now because I am already in a number of active and inactive battles.

Bomby, entrance. My brain needs a jolt. It's stalled and won't start, like a car with a near dead battery. Keep turning the key but get nothin'. I would not be surprised if that was the case for some of the other lurkers.

Awesome. My entrance will come after I'm done with my homework.

You are not a normal child. You are a being of hell, brought to this world for the sole purpose of avenging your family. Your heart is so dark, even the Buddha himself couldn't save you.

These words reverberated through Yuki's head as she wandered by the side of the lake. God knows how many times she'd heard them as a youth. Only now at the age of 20 did she really understand what they'd meant. What an unfortunate woman, to never even have the option of a normal life!

Yet to those who did not know her, the sadness of her existence was nearly invisible. To those who would pass her by in daily life, she seemed to be just an average woman, more beautiful than most, but also very kind. Little did they know that the umbrella she carried with her everywhere was actually a sheath for her blade.

On this particular night, the weather was relatively warm, but windy. Her long black hair was tied back into a knot, so as not to blow into her eyes as she stalked out a Yakuza clan who she'd been hired to take down. However, something told her that she would have another distraction tonight. Perhaps it was a family member of someone she'd killed, thirsting for revenge. Perhaps an officer suspicious of why she was wandering at night. Perhaps a warrior who had read her the story Ashio Ryurei had written about her in the paper, curious to test her powers.

She stopped in her tracks to listen for others. Beneath the soft slushing of the waves hitting the beach, she could hear footsteps approaching. Who could this be...?

At first, he was not much to look at. There was something odd about him however, while he looked in his early thirties he held a sense of age. Like silverware passed down threw generations. A bit of polish and it was as new, but he held no such coat of polish. His sunken eyes were proof of that, they held much of the sense of age. The eyes of one whom had lost everything and just lived day to day waiting for the sweet embrace of death.

A battered, and chipped breastplate, and greaves went clickety clack as he walked. His right gauntlet more of a bracer now. The hand it should cover grasping his spear, exposed. It's twin was the only thing about the man that looked in relatively good condition. Mostly that was because of the shield strapped to it, and strapped again and again as each strip of leather tattered and lost it's ability to support the weight.

A shield that looked little like the well decorated emblem of honor and justice it had once been. Once gilded in brilliant colors, such a glorious symbol of nobility it had been. War came, and it fell in the hands of a looters. Then into the hands of a present as barter for a loaf of bread. On and on, handed as a gift, or piece of currency and rarely as an actual tool of war, until it ended up in it's current state, strapped to the arm of it's current owner. Dented, batered, chipped, scraped, it now looked like a trash can lid after a date with a dozen baseball bats and a miner's pick.

His ragged clothing fluttered in the breeze as he approached Yuki. Old and grayed, much like the rest of him. The haft of yellow bone tipped with slightly rusted steel grasped in his hand slowly rose and pointed at the young woman's head. Steady and true. His voice came, old and haggard. He truly seemed to be nothing but a relic.
"May peace be with you."

He charged, spear held firmly, aiming to thrust into her bosom and and the beating of her heart.