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Many things are often lost or forgotten by others. These lost items can turn up in the most unusual places at the oddest times, however some items are seemingly gone forever, these items are the ones that end up in the Plains of the Forlorn, a vast seemingly endless stretch of land where everything from loose change to aircraft turns up when it is considered well and truly forgotten by time immortal.

It is in this monument to the lost where we find a pitiful sight. Standing atop of a slowly rotting sailboat is one of the few people who can accesses these plains for he belongs there for he is truly lost to his home. So when he wasn't aimlessly wondering through time and space he found himself here lost among mountains of the cultural and technological runoff of the many civilizations that were spread across all reality.

Lawrence Williams, was a thin built man standing at Six feet Seven inches tall, his shoulder length black hair streaked with gray framed his lightly wrinkled face, red eyes staring across the vast horizon before him. A worn white trenchcoat over a chain mail vest and blue shirt. There was large black leather messenger bag slung across his chest resting just above his fading olive drab pants. His brown running shoes looked to be on there last legs as well.

Will sighed deeply as he gazed at the gray clouds above him. Pondering just how he had wound up here again. The last thing he knew he was in the middle of a fight with that rather powerful time traveler, he shuddered at the thought time travel didn't agree with his sanity at ALL, then he was back in his new “Home.” Pushing those thoughts aside Will continued his walk through the plains keeping an eye out for anything that caught his interest as he did so.

Roughly ten minutes later he froze mid step, having felt a chill rush down his spine. Will's breath caught in his throat, eyes widening in fear. There was no mistaking it he could feel it the familiar dread that he often likened to the thunderous chime of church bells! A time traveler was heading here! He darted behind the nearest towering pile of odds and ends he could find.

Slowly Will reached into his bag and drew out his trusted sling, Quickly he placed the small loop over the first finger of his right hand and loaded a lead round into the larger center loop. He fully intended to defend himself if need be, breathing deeply to try and ease his fear. Slowly but surely he calmed himself down some. Though his hands were steady and his breath calm the light sheet of sweat on his brown and panic in his eyes said far more then words could. He didn't know why this time traveler had broken his mask of apathy even before he had fully appeared from the time stream but he did. Will once more steadied his breathing and got ready to fight, for the sooner this was over the sooner he could retreat to the safety of his mask, and his isolation.

A distant howl echoed across the Plains of the Forlorn, bringing with it a certain moisture in the air, similar to the feeling of a beach. It was a humid sensation that crept its way across an empty car husk, swishing through a shattered helicopter, and finally crashed against a solid, blood-splattered slab of thick concrete before approaching, without warning or hint thereof, the tall man whose tension might as well be written in his face for how obvious it was expressing in his features. However, it was only ever a sensation-- a breeze which had no origin, purpose or essence. It struck the man and caressed his exterior with a harsh push, not dangerous in the slightest, and yet the feeling would certainly feel... uncomfortable. No one would blame the man for feeling a sense of dread: certainly, most knowledgeable people would consider this an 'omen', a sign of... something. Someone. Perhaps anything at all at this point.

Far off in the horizon, a spark flashed in the environment, moving left and right erratically. However, upon closer inspection, one would see that the spark was, in fact, a humanoid shape, slowly walking towards the position of the only other living being in the place. He stood a flat six feet tall, with short brown hair and matching brown eyes, middle-age complexity, though his body was slim, it was also well-trained, hardened and scarred by many battles. He wore a clean green metal vest, shimmering in the sunless light that bathed the plains, along with a pair of black, wide pocketed pants. Over the ends of his pants and outside of his bare arms, he bore a set of platinum gauntlets and greaves, their design masterfully carved and smoothed, with the symbol of the Uroboros clearly visible behind the palms and to the sides of the heels. However, the figure, as healthy as one would think it would be, walked hunched and with a limp, white teeth gritted and eyes squinted in apparent pain.

-"Ah.. gah... urgh..." the male figure moaned in the distance, his noises reflected and increased by the sheer silence of the plains. Every crunching step and heaving breath he took echoed in the open of the area, where the faint, salty ocean smell still permeated. His gauntlet hands grasped the sides of his head as he moaned, the flat edges of his fingers pushing into his skull as if he was trying to numb down a major pain. His eyes ran in circles and sometimes locked into blank spaces in front of him, and his mouth was agape and slightly drooling. In his mind, though, contrary to the outside, a perfectly healthy conversation was being held by the sentient spirit of his armor and something much more vicious and unknown:

"Katzbalger... why did you never tell me about this?"
"What should I have said, Arkimeth? That it was wrong for you to pursue your self-righteous path in service of a God?"
"You never told me it was wrong! You never told me what I should have done!"
"You keep misunderstanding the situation, Ark! I am but your weapon, the source of your power as granted to you by Lord Horen! Whatever you used me for was your decision, and in that choice, you chose me, and not her."
"So you're telling me... if I had chosen her instead, then you would have come to me like this the same way she is now?"
"Yes. Your nature doesn't allow you to keep the scale tipped one side or the other, Arkimeth. There must be a balance, like in with all things."
"And in either case, I would have been brought here, to this place...?"
"This place is a dump for things that have no place in their original worlds, or whose 'time' has already run out. The discharge of your opposing energy is ideally done here, so--"
"STOP OFFERING SO MUCH RESISTANCE, HUMAN!"

"GRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!" Arkimeth Seizen's thunderous, wild roar resonated into the oldest, sturdiest carcasses of the plains' various random articles, and quite possibly, all the way into Will's unwilling eardrums, who was now about 50 feet away from the walking wreck of a man. And yet, upon his desperate cry of pain, Ark's back instantly bulged, the back of his vest snapping open and his skin tearing apart with a disgusting retching sound, and from the mound, two masses burst from underneath the skin, branching out to either side like wings, before condensing into double pillars of black, slowly chiseling and toning themselves to appear like dark liquid arms, pulsing with Arkimeth's quickened heartbeat. Settling their massive hands onto the battered earth with a vicious thrust, they forcefully lifted Ark's body off the ground, his body grown limp and silent with whitened eyes. Controlled by an as-yet-unknown force, one of the giant arms extended and grabbed a large metal canister from a couple of feet away, and tossed it bowling-style at the spot where Will hid, in such a manner that, if he didn't move, he would quickly become part of a very painful Strike.

While Will was an immortal who was less then Twenty years shy of seven centuries and was quite capable of defending himself he wouldn't call himself skilled or intimidating by any means, aggravating and adaptable though were quite accurate. So as the metal canister was thrown at him he returned fire and in doing so over extended himself while swinging his sling overhead. This awkward motion caused two things to happen, first it forced him to fall forward thus allowing the canister to embed itself into the pile he had been leaning against moments ago, it also through off his aim horribly.

It was a shot he'd made with practiced ease many times before, had he not needed to overextend himself his lead round would have struck the man before him in the throat delivering it's sarcastic message of “For your heath.” with brutal efficiency. However not only was the arc higher than normal but was also drifting quite a bit to the left.
Moments after he had hit the ground Will was scrambling to his feet and hastily shoving his sling back into his bag. Now that the Time traveler had arrived the aura that he gave was more palpable to Will, though it was mixed with... something else an aura that he normally shouldn't be able to feel but could. 'How though? Ever since I became immortal I've only been able to detect the Grim Reaper, Time Travelers, and those with chaotic power like that of my field.' Will thought as he dashed up the mound of miscellaneous objects.

Shaking his those musing away as he ran, looking around himself for something to use, somehow luck was on his side as he found a large butcher's knife and a pressure cooker within arm's reach. Snatching them up as he assented to the top of the mound, once there he turned to face the stranger who was currently after his hide. Sucking in a deep breath Will decided to bring forth his most useful strategy unnerve and improvise. Will dashed forward and lunged into the air at Arkimeth, all while his mind screamed at him that not only was he a ranged combat specialist but that this one was a time traveler mixed with something not only unknown but outright WRONG!

Pushing away the possible outcomes of mixing those last to factors with the unstable chaotic energy field that was bound to him he hit the ground running a flurry of swinging metal as he swung his improvised weapons once he was within striking range. Will had been expecting to get a few licks in because of his outright bonkers attack. He had been expecting to see both confusion and irritation in the eyes of his foe. However as so often happened his expectations had not been met.

One of the viscus black arms had seized both of his weapons mid swing. Instead of the intended emotions he saw nothing but a white in the void like orbs before him. The alarms were beyond blaring inside his mind at the moment, it was becoming extremely hard to focus on much of anything at the moment thanks to the...aura that was being put out, still Will found himself able to do one simple task a simple objective that helped him face his endless life. This simple task was... cursing out death itself. “Damn reaper I swear I'll stuff that scythe blade first down it's spine one day.” Will deadpanned waiting for a blow to land.

Edit: Yeah I'd love to continue this fight, I'm having alot of fun with it so just post whenever you're able to.

((Hey man, like I said before, I'm sorry if it seems like I abandoned this topic, but I was busy, yet now I'm ready, able and willing to continue. Would you like to continue as well, sir? So I can start making the next post ASAP.))

Okay, it's over.

((Sorry for the absence, but we got pushed pretty hard as we are preparing to leave South Korea and go back to the States in a few days. However, now we can continue for sure-- and I'll be sure to follow it this time! ))
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The viscous black masses from Arkimeth's back stopped inches before swiping at Will's torso, the sharp edges of the bony fingers in the right arm glimmering in the absence of absolute light with an odd, vibrant glow. The limbs trembled, as if struggling, being pulled back and forth inches at a time until the abomination stepped back, using Ark's unconscious body as a vessel. Inside the brain, though, away from the physical plane, a furious struggle of wills was going on-- Katzbalger, a divine entity that manifested as platinum gauntlets and greaves and gave Ark the power to control and become wind and lightning, had internally split into two parts due to Ark's heroic good tendencies and behavior, giving birth to a counterpart which encompassed all the suppressed evil inside Ark: Khalitzburg. Now the inner conflict was trespassing into the real world, Khalitzburg's essence dominating Ark and manifesting as those humongous arms that had sprouted from his back. The pause and the momentary retreat would give Will a brief reprieve, enough for him to back off, get his footing, and attempt to retaliate somehow.

Or would it? The left black arm rose high into the air, and was brought down with force into the ground, shaking the nearby area and kicking off dust. Pulsing, two balls appeared underneath the shimmering skin, slithering their way back into Ark's body using the arm as transport, and once they met the torso, they merged into the body, causing the body to tremble violently, and the legs of the thrashed body became covered in the same substance, sprouting large legs just like the arms. The right arm, meanwhile, slammed the ground, propelling the body upward, and once the legs came out, both arms came down and forward again, leaving the body hanging in 'all fours' facing Will. The body continued to pulsate and morph, yet nothing was changing externally. However, the right arm raised its fist and lurched forward, trying to slam the traveler into the beaten dust of the landscape.

Will had learned many things over his unwillingly extended life one of the first lessons he had learned was how to take a hit. Another skill he acquired was how to judge the speed of an object moving at a rapid pace, this skill was part of the reason he was so accurate with his weapon of choice. Thinking quickly Will was able to make the most of his situation, he relaxed his muscles and stepped backward just at the moment when the massive fist struck. He still took the hit, though thanks to some on the fly improvising he was able to lesson the impact of the strike and use the momentum to get himself some breathing room.

After he had landed semi-gracefully a few dozen feet away Will began to slowly climb to his feet wincing from the pain, he was quite sure that at least one of his ribs had been bruised by the powerful blow. Sucking in a shallow breath of air he grabbed the first thing he could lay his hand on. It turned out to be a rather worn looking baseball. With hardly a thought Will threw the ball at his staggering “opponent” beaming the seemingly comatose man in his left shoulder. In spite of the throw being dead on and the impact causing a rather resounding thwack the ball might as well have missed for the good it seemed to do.

Deciding that keeping mobile would be a wise idea he began to run backward. while he wasn't supernaturally fast by any means Will was quite the capable runner. He had rather impressive stamina, a long stride and most important more practice then many star sprinters. As such Will was able to not only keep a good pace but also handle the rather inopportune terrain rather well. So he kept on eye on the figure in the distance when he wasn't stealing glances over his shoulder to navigate the treacherous landscape behind him. As he did so he began to ponder the situation he was now in.

'Well, whoever that is he doesn't seem to really be aware of much at the moment. I don't know what's going on but I can tell that whatever is happening to him isn't normal by any means. He could use some help, though I doubt that I could really do much for him at the moment. Whatever is going on in his head must be pretty bad if a sudden burst of pain won't snap him out of it. Though it's not like I could do much for him, even if those odd tar like limbs didn't want to make paste out of me. Ugh speaking of that, I hope this doesn't drag on too long bad enough I've got a bruised rib I'd rather not spend the next few weeks in a coma while my head slowly reshapes itself after being squished like a grape.' He mused as he jumped over an old ten speed bicycle and continued his attempt to lose the steadily advancing figure.