In the Shadow of Mount Obsidian {BG}

[Cirrus]

The shadows hold the best stories.

If shadows could talk, the world would be a much different place. Shadows were the essence of secrets and deceit; darkness woven from the souls of liars and backstabbers. If the shade could talk, then they'd find their own little niche as brokers of information. Why? Because no one takes notice of a shadow. Shadows are just blobs on the wall. Shadows are background-dwellers. Shadows are inconspicuous.

But what if shadows had more malicious intent? What if the shadows were spying on you; deliberately eavesdropping on whatever dubious conjecture you had to divulge, using that information as leverage or something equally as deplorable?

- - - - -

Dylan Wolf stared up at the foreboding silhouette of Mount Obsidian, taking in its omnious air; relishing the odious reputation that went along with it. The black rock glinted malevolently in the moonlight -- this island was always better in the nighttime. His sword, Polydeuces, hung off of his hip; its usual home. His suit was in a pristine condition, despite the pouring rain. This was odd, but quickly explained by the distinctive trails of water vapour that danced around his head before disappearing into the onslaught of precipitation. That was the first clue to the true nature of the doctor standing on his lonesome at the foot of the mount. Indeed, he was not as normal as he first appeared.

The wanted head turned. Someone was approaching, whichw was odd, considering that all others stayed away; either too low a calibre of bounty hunter to handle him, or an innocent civilian scared for their life. A reputation got one a long way. This was the second clue. He was an enemy of the world government; his corpse would brighten up their day. That was something that brought a smile to his face. He was a doctor; one that heals. To think that any of the pathetic efforts of the marines could even begin to trouble him...that was a spectacular notion indeed. Still, someone in the war had shot him...with seastone too...perhaps they weren't as moronic as he thought. However, he had recovered, he had slaughtered their resistance, and he had gotten away without further trouble. No doubt his bounty would have increased due to his actions, something that he now welcomed. His goals now were to eventually become a Shichibukai -- one of the seven warlords of the sea -- and rule this place...build it from the ground up and spread his reputation far and wide. Retire in peace too, perhaps...

That'd be the day...

Dylan heard footsteps above the gentle hiss of evaporating moisture. His yellow eyes darted about, scanning the mostly barren landscape while his hand reached instinctively towards his sword. His lips were tied in a tight scowl. In his other hand streams of pitch black particles coalesced and formed into a ball; emanating such heat that a slight mirage appeared to the left side of the doctor: that side of his body would appear to be much closer to whomever was approaching than his right. By the combat-ready way he prepared himself for whatever was coming, one would discern the third clue as to who he was. This had happened before; someone else had broken the sanctity of peacefulness that had reigned over the doctor as he observed the castle. Someone had riled up the doctor -- the same doctor that rarely fought -- to such lengths that he was ready for this altercation.

Someone had disturbed the doctor.

[theblackglove]

"Well, well, well.... what do we have here?"

Shotgun still holstered on his back, Doctor Gregory Shotskavich stepped from the shadows. In his hand, he held a single sheet of paper, a poster with a picture of the man he now faced in the shadow of the mountain. "'Black Cloud' Wolf, a doctor and well-known Pirate" He smiled. "There's quite a bounty on your head, my friend. What does one do to earn a 48 Million Beri bounty?"

Despite the late hour, both men were now equally visible in the moonlight, the bright light poking out from just behind the rainclouds. As the water poured down from the sky, Shotskavich was thankful; it hid the nervous sweat he had going. Facing down a high-ranked Pirate like 'Black Cloud' wasn't exactly a tea party, and he was a bit inexperienced in actual combat. Sure, he'd been great at spars, but who could believe his first actual battle would be against such a powerful opponent.

"Well, I'm a nice guy," he sighed, putting away the poster, "So I'll make a deal with you." He reached up, placing one hand on his shotgun. "You can go quietly, and I'll try to get you pardoned so you can continue to heal people, like a doctor should. Or-" he pulled 'Bessie' off his back, and she gave a gleam in the night light. "-you can have Bessie blast you apart. Your choice."

Secretly, in his mind, Gregory prayed. Please come quietly, please come quietly, for the love of crap, please come quietly...

[Cirrus]

"'Black Cloud' Wolf, a doctor and well-known Pirate" Ah...a voice to the footsteps. The perpatrator seemed to have a confident air, addressing Dylan with apparently genuine interest as to how he obtained a large bounty such as his. Dylan stayed his hand. It wouldn't be known to the man, but at any moment the wanted head could extend his right arm and blast a smouldering hole in his chest. It would be so easy just to end this here and now, but that wasn't in his nature. His nature was to observe, to pry and to discover; it was what made him so suited to being a doctor. And so, Dylan entertained the notion; obliging the stranger.

'Oh? A little ultimatum here, is there? How...interesting.' Dylan put emphasis on the last word, letting it be known that he was relishing the meeting. The three distinctive white stripes on his hair bounced as he tilted his head in intrigue. He walked with a confident air; almost gliding serenely across the rain-soaked ground, which one would notice dried up immediately as he stepped upon it. Coming into quarters that would be considered a little creepy for most, Dylan put one hand around the shotgun the stranger held, and kept on walking. The barrel of the firearm piereced through his blazer, through his suit and touched against his bareskin. A little ash poured out, settling into a pile on the head of the gun. All the while Dylan smiled chaotically, enjoying the effect his weird spell would probably be having on the stranger, who was clearly a bounty hunter of somekind. The heat of his touch would no doubt mess with the shotgun's integrity, although Dylan wasn't so cheap as to disarm a man before a fight had started. So, he was careful as he guided the shotgun further through his anatomy; pressing on and impaling himself on the barrel. Eventually he had most of it in him, and a little protruding out of his back. His yellow eyes locked with the stranger's own, seeming to pierce through to the man's very soul. From this range Dylan could see the sweat forming on the man's brow; little rivulets of fear coming to light, no matter how hard this bounty hunter tried to hide them.

'So, it seems you can't blast me from here...and I won't go quietly...' He mused, as if he wasn't standing nose to nose with a stranger with a shotgun poking out of his backside, the creepy demeanour suddenly gone.

'You're hoping that I come quietly...you're not as confident as you'd like me to believe...that was rather foolish of you. Here, let me educate you...' Starting out slow, he raised Polydeuces as if to strike, before exploding into ash and flying backwards. The black material formed again, well in the range of the shotgun, and Dylan's body was recognisable once again. His hand, however, was still gripping the sword and waved tantalisingly in front of the stranger. An ashen trail led back to Dylan.

'Shall we begin, stranger?'

[theblackglove]

'Oh? A little ultimatum here, is there? How...interesting.'

Ah, Horsesh*t.

Unintimidated by 'Bessie', the more experienced of the two men walked slowly across the ground, almost gliding towards his opponent. Frozen in fear, he could only stand still as Wolf slowly pushed himself forward. Soon, they were standing face-to-face, eye-to-eye. Even now, Gregory could tell his facade of confidence had been seen through in the man's penetrating gaze. Gregory silently cursed for not having loaded an explosive round. On the upside, his opponent had revealed that he was (as expected) a Devil Fruit User, of the Logia Type.

'So, it seems you can't blast me from here...and I won't go quietly...'

He's good...

'You're hoping that I come quietly...

...really good...

You're not as confident as you'd like me to believe...that was rather foolish of you. Here, he smiled, raising his sword let me educate you...'

Gregory closed his eyes and braced for the worst, but when it didn't come, he re-opened them. His opponent was reforming from the ashes on the other side, having spared his life, but the blade was still nearby his head. A trail of ashes connected the disembodied hand holding the blade to it's owner.

'Shall we begin, stranger?'

So. This is it. This is how I'm going to die. Even as his opponent reformed, his legs shook, and his bladder barely held in control. This wasn't some random mook off the street. Heck, if the world was a game, this was another player- one of many levels higher.

[OOC: >_<]

Stop! yelled a little voice in the back of his head. Where's your Pecos City Pride?

I don't HAVE any, he replied, hence why I left.

Doesn't mean they didn't make you what you are today. The voice countered. Think, what was it that was so important to learn?

The doctor, despite his circumstances, smiled. He inhaled deeply, and almost immediately, his knees became steady, his gun held firm, and his bladder weaned no more. His eyes lost any and all sense of fear, and became eyes of concentration. In one swift and perfectly rehearsed movement, he took aim at his opponent's eyes and pulled the trigger.

*BANG*

"Gregory Shotskavich. Pleased ta meetcha."

[Cirrus]

The bang rang out, indicative of the shotgun's firing. Shot flew at unmatched speeds, slamming straight into the doctor and tearing his arm and right torso off. Dylan, however, remained unfazed. With a quaint expression on his face, Dylan reformed the damaged parts, ash pouring out of the stumps that the shotgun had left behind. However, instead of his limbs and torso coalescing into skin, they retained the pitch black colour of the pyroclastic ash. As the ash condensed, its structural integrity increased. Unbeknownst to the other man, who had called himself Gregory, Dylan was going on the defensive. However, this was belied by the menacing claw of ash that was taking the place of his arm. Reacting to the probably puzzled expression on Gregory's face, Dylan said;

'What kind of doctor would I be if I couldn't heal myself?' To be honest, he didn't know what he was playing at; he already had the claw out, why didn't he just end it? He pondered this, before coming across the answer: it was fun to study people. Toying with Gregory would be pushing it, Dylan preferred the term 'observing and analysing'. In the end it didn't matter, for the outcome would be the same: the doctor would triumph over those that tried to stop him. Indeed, the title of doctor was fitting: he who teaches. It denoted expertise; superiority. Dylan would never admit it, but he loved being called by his title. It was the little things that made a person, and this was one of them.

The wanted head stopped musing and retracted the sword from Gregory's vicinity. Sheathing Polydeuces, as it would be foolhardy to go against a firearm with a melee weapon, Dylan decided that defence had had enough for one day. Using the move known as 'Hai Hai no Pariah', Dylan released a large mass of pyroclastic ash over the area. The effects of the rain were instantly minimised; no more precipitation reached either of the two combatants. The black mass in the air then started to move, as if possessed by a whimiscal spirit that delighted in dancing, before amalgamating over the doctor and settling. It was like a second skin. A really dense and durable second skin. Dylan's other hand was now a claw, screaming hot and ready to lacerate whatever they could. His face was also hidden behind a mask of ash, although ironically the three distinctive white stripes remained. The 48,000,000 bounty head assumed a monstrous appearance, but left no time for his new form to sink in.

Quick as a flash, Dylan was on the move, propelling himself with a stream of pyroclastic ash at high speeds towards Gregory. His matte claws crossed in front of him, Dylan prepared to lash out. He did so as he drew near, the sheer heat of his body propagated with force at the shotgun-wielding man. The claws themselves were aimed at his chest, moved with intent to maim.

Not minding the outcome, and actually hoping Gregory offered some kind of defence or evasive measure, Dylan then veered to the left. The stream of ash ground to a halt too, moving as an organised mass into the doctor's waiting hand. It formed a swirling sphere that seemed to draw all of the ash used for the 'Pariah' attack into it, growing menacingly larger. Dylan gestured, and the sphere moved in front of him.

'You're not the only one who has a firearm.' He said from behind the huge ash ball. Instantly, it exploded with a powerful gust; there was such force behind it that it scorched the wet rock and ploughed through the derelict shacks scattered around Mount Obsidian.

The nagging voice in his head told him that he'd over done it.

Sighing, Dylan agreed.

[theblackglove]

Unsurprisingly, the blast Bessie released failed to do any damage to his opponent. It certainly made an opening statement though, tearing off his opponent's arm and part of his torso. Any normal man hit with that blast would have been killed instantly. Sadly, Logia users tend to have bullet insurance.

As 'Black Cloud' reformed his arm, it cloaked itself, forming a pitch-black claw of pyroclastic ash. Although menacing, it was also thick. And what does a thick formation mean? In that area, he's solid!

'What kind of doctor would I be if I couldn't heal myself?'

Judging from the fact that you just took it head-on, Gregory thought sarcastically, not a Logia user... or dead. He pumped the gun, and prepared himself.

Slowly, his opponent sheathed the blade, then released what appeared to be a giant cloud of ash. It filled the clouds before settling over it's creator, from the looks of it, forming a new layer of skin. This struck Gregory as odd. Why was he using a defensive technique as a Logia User? Something was off.

Before he had any more time to think, the ash-covered man flew forwards, riding on a stream of ash. His mind wiped, and he became a man of reflex, sidestepping to the right in the nick of time. Even as the claws passed him by, he could feel intense heat radiating from his opponent. In response, he pulled the trigger again, releasing a burst of power at the blackened arm. The moment ended before he could assess the damage, but he followed with his eyes and began to run back, hoping to get some distance in between them. Luckily, the Ash Man turned the opposite way, putting ground between them.

Gregory readied his shotgun, preparing for yet another attack, but was shocked to see the armor his opponent had constructed peeling off his own body. The mass of heat and destruction formed into a ball, with an obvious target.

'You're not the only one who has a firearm.'

The earth shook as an explosion burst from the orb, scorching the rocks regardless of the rain that had fallen earlier. Gregory's entire life flashed before his eyes as death came to greet him. It was then that he remembered something incredibly important his gunmanship teacher had (literally) hammered into him.

"DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOODGE!"

His mind unable, his body took control, and leaped clear of the debris, landing behind a protruding rock. An instant slower, and he knew he would have been roasted alive.

It was oddly quiet after that. Perhaps the villain was contemplating whether or not his opponent was dead, or at the very least, near to it. This was an opportunity.

Reaching into one of the pockets on his belt, he pulled out a syringe and loaded it into his gun. If he was going to have a chance during this battle, he'd need this to hit. There had been rumors that Logia users who haven't undergone advanced training were susceptible to sneak attacks, so his best bet was to use that to his advantage. Naturally, that meant using anything he had at his disposal. Keeping himself hidden, he carefully aimed his shotgun at his opponent's torso, knowing it had the highest probability of a successful hit. He prayed, then fired, quickly withdrawing to load another syringe and move to new cover.

[Cirrus]

Pew!

The noise of something being fired alerted Dylan, causing the doctor to go into high alert. He dispersed instantly into a mass of ash, floating menacingly above the ground and spreading out to form a thick smog. He felt a dart of somekind fly straight through his 'Black Cloud', whistling harmlessly off somewhere. He had grown bored of this game; hide and seek was never one of his favourites. The wanted head's body, now in an ethereal form, rose up, going higher and higher into the sky. Soon Dylan was at an altitude from which he could see the scope of their little 'battlefield', and nothing was hidden from him. From his aerial position he could see Gregory hiding behind a rock, and smiled inwardly. All of a sudden the ash swirled and coalesced, shaping the body of the doctor in his 'Pariah' form. Pitch black claws seemed to draw in and absorb what little moonlight was perceptible; darkness seemed to follow the doctor. Dylan swiveled in the air and began to fall, gaining speed and approaching maximum velocity as he descended upon his opponent. Accuracy wasn't an issue here; the second he hit the ground he'd explode into a life-extinguishing wave of deadly ash. Even if the intial shockwave didn't wipe out the shotgun-brandishing guy, the few seconds he'd probably have to spend in the ash would.

Thermal shock was a bitch.

If Gregory didn't get out of the way, the sudden rise in temperature would fry his brains. Literally. Dylan didn't relish the prospect of being covered in human fritatta, but sacrifices had to be made. As he neared his opponent's position, he braced himself; waiting for the moment that his claws touched the ground or, more optimistically, flesh.

WHUMP!

That was the noise of impact. Dylan was suddenly irrecognisable, lost in the cloud of ash released as he hit the ground. Suddenly the black particles were almost palpable in the air, even from afar, as the vicinity was saturated with the cloud of death. The temperature skyrocketed; signified by the distinct sounds of rocks shattering. This only served to add the the maelstrom of deadly debris in the air at that moment. The ash then started to settle, almost as if allowing its victim respite...but of course no one was so kind. This was a fight, and the only way a winner would be determined was if one fled, or if one was no longer able to. Dylan knew this, and he was pretty sure Gregory knew this too. That knowledge softened the nagging feeling of remorse that bit at his bones...just barely. The few seconds passed, and the ash became active in an instant; forming constructs with frightening alacrity. Tendrils spawned from a central point, groping and slithering over every surface it could. They'd find the shotgun-weilder, and then...

...they'd crush him.

[theblackglove]

Gregory swore under his breath as opponent parted himself, allowing the syringe to pass by harmlessly before landing in a nearby rock. Then suddenly, he was gone.

He's not in front... Gregory reasoned, and he's not behind or beside me... that just leaves...

Even as he looked up, he almost regretted doing so. Wolf had taken to the sky, and it didn't take a genius to figure out that he'd been spotted. As the ashes solidified and hurtled down, Gregory did the only thing he was capable of- he ran.

He would later look back and realize that running was perhaps the smartest thing he ever did in his life. If he hadn't that pyroclastic cloud would have crashed down on him like so many elephants, crushing, if not frying him from the immense heat, by sheer dumb luck, he made it to the treeline, ducking behind a rather large cedar before the shockwave passed. The very area shook with incredible force, sending rocks and bits of debris flying in a giant cloud of ash.

With all his will, Gregory held his breath as the ash passed. He knew inhaling it meant death. Figuring the cloud would prevent a clear view of him, he quickly retreated even deeper into the forest.

As he reached a small clearing, the ash seemed to be settling behind him, giving Gregory the chance to think. His shotgun wasn't working- to be expected when the opponent is a logia user. Did he have any other weapons? The doctor glanced down at the Bonesaw on his belt and shook his head. Close combat was the worst possible option.

As the doctor pondered, the ashes that had scattered nearby took on a menacing shape. Slowly, like the approaching tide, long thin tendrils of ash snaked across the ground, searching for a target. Closer, one of them passed by the doctor's foot...

The Doctor leaped, jumping over the tendril just in time. Once again, he resumed running, stopping from exhaustion on the other side of a small stream. Even now, the ashes surged forward- and slowed to a stop?

Gregory watched carefully as one of the tendrils dipped into the stream, and then solidified and crumbled.

Water He realized, Ash is forced to solidify in water. And if he's forced to stay solid, he can't release ash. In if he can't release ash...

Bessie shone with a menacing sheen.

He knew there wasn't much time, so Gregory grasped at what he had on him. Extra syringes. He dipped these in the water, filling them full up. Even if he couldn't hit with them, they could still give him something to shoot with. A surgical mask. It could keep germs in- or more importantly, ashes out. A beaker--- would simply splash all over the place. He didn't bother. He did use it to coat Bessie in a layer of water, and gave his bullets the same treatment.

Newly outfitted with his water weaponry, Gregory loaded Bessie. "Let's go practice Medicine."

******

It had been an excruciatingly nerve-wracking game of hide-and-seek to reach the area, but this time, he was ready. Gregory, standing behind a tree, took aim once more. A single shot, a syringe, hurtled towards the target, but before it reached it's mark, Gregory had reloaded and fired again, this time with a normal bullet. With less air resistance, the bullet quickly caught up to the syringe, shattering it before it connected. If he couldn't shoot him with a water filled syringe...

Gregory smiled ...then I'll hit the syringe myself! Immediately taking the chance, Gregory moved again, careful to keep hidden from view.

[Cirrus]

(OOC: Some minor accidental God-Modding in your post, so allow me to rectify your mistakes. Firstly, Dylan's logia is that of pyroclastic ash; the stuff that comes from volcanoes. It is typically 1400 degrees celcius - a lot higher in Fahrenheit. Simple river water wouldn't cause it to crumble. Only sea water causes it to clump, by nature of being a devil fruit. Is there even a river on Mount Obsidian? Also, I have a question about the "layer of water" on your weapons. Since it's just river water, I'm pretty sure it lacks an effect on devil fruit users. Even if I am mistaken, I'm sure that the recoil of a shotgun would cause the droplets to fly off anyway. Oh, and Dylan hasn't formed back into humanoid form, so I'm assuming you fired at the centre of the tendril mass.)

A hail of glass landed on the centre of the pitch black ashen mass, quickly lost in the seemingly perpetual motion of the life-extinguishing particles and crushed under the weight of the ash. It its wake was a cascade of river water, which quickly evaporated into wisps of translucent vapour upon contact with the ash. Dylan, being in this form, lacked eyes, and thus couldn't see where the attacks were coming from. His tendrils hadn't found Gregory yet, but most of the forest was scorched and some trees were alight; it would only be a matter of time before his opponent would be forced out by the flames...

...and into the jaws of death.

The ash seemed to form a twisted mouth at its centre at that thought; the anticipation of victory was an emotion that only Dylan could express in the most unholy way possible. His claim to abhor both good and evil wasn't looking to good at this point...but no matter. He'd focus on the now, and right now he was fighting a shotgun-weilding bounty hunter in a burning forest in an effort to protect the ruins of Kurohari castle. He had plans for that place; big plans that involved his ascension to Shichibukai. Mount Obsidian would become his base, and it would be from here that he watched the world go by. Maybe he'd import some Humandrills or other predatory animal to look after his keep. Indeed, it was a notion he relished.

By now the forest was fully aflame; the incendiary nature of the tendrils blackening the plantlife and razing the ground. What few animals lived in the forest were now gone; consumed by either the ash or by the flames: both a terrible fate. It was left to be said whether Gregory would suffer the same end.

Dylan sighed from within the ash, releasing a gale saturated with the steaming hot particles that blew down trees. He'd probably have to get someone in to rebuild the castle, and the forest.

[theblackglove]

[OOC: OBJECTION!

So let me get this straight- your character is an Ash Man who's body is made out of pyroclastic ash. He can create and control tthis ash at will. This ash APPARENTLY has a heat source, preventing it from ever cooling down. If rain ever happens, he has a technique that allows him to block out the sky, preventing him from getting wet, and he's so high temperature that he can start fires scorch rock, and evaporate water before it even touches him, making me wonder why you'd need a move to block out the rain at all. You can react to having a bullet or sword swung at you and part yourself before it hits, making explosives and seastone weapons useless, and on top of it all, you can reduce your weight by scattering your body into ashes, allowing you to fly out of range and (theoretically) above the sea.

Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but I think it's perfectly justified for me to call bullsh*t on this. Based on the above information I have uncovered through looking at your profile and during our fight, you are effectively invincible, and can only be defeated by either an ice logia (the only existing one is taken by Aokiji) or if you were to walk into the water (something which a smart character like yours would never do). This breaks the very rules of the site in that it is IMPOSSIBLE for anyone other than Aokiji to defeat you, unless you act completely out of character and walk into the ocean.

I'll give you that the water would likely fly off the bullets, but regardless of what type of water it lands in, ash will be cooled off and crumble. And a stream on Mt. Obsidian is hardly impossible. After all, if you read the description, the mountain is rich with local wildlife, including plants and animals. What do both need to survive? Fresh Water. They can't get that from the sea, so where would it have to come from? A fresh water source. Ie., streams, ponds, lakes, rivers, and rain (which would be highly likely to gather into a stream anyways. NOT TO MENTION it also was raining at the beginning of our battle, so water managing to form a stream is not highly unlikely).

As for your argument of only seawater affecting Devil Fruits, let's take a look at canon for a moment, shall we? Crocodile, like Dylan, had the exact same weakness- water. If the opponent used water, he was solid. When Luffy fought him the first two/three times, he didn't have a source of water, and therefore, could not harm Luffy. The next time they meet, Luffy possesses a barrel of drinking water, which he covers his body with. This allows him to hit Crocodile. Now, if this water was dug up in the desert, and it is safe to drink, odds are that it's not seawater, it's fresh water. It worked on Crocodile.

I would also like to point out that after Luffy loses that battle, he comes back and uses his own blood as a source of liquid. Luffy's body does not contain seawater. This leads me to believe that so long as it's water-based, it will work.

I should also point out that when "reflexively avoiding attacks", Crocodile, and many other Logia users, don't spontaneously turn into their element. Logias are ALWAYS made of their element, and the gaps that you see when Luffy tries to punch them are made as a result of Luffy's fist passing through them, not the DF user using his ability to make a gap in his body. If this was the case, all Logia fruit users would be effectively invincible because they could dodge any and every attack except for those of the Logia who's element trumps theirs, like a game of Pokemon where only legendaries count, and everything else is weak as Magikarp.

My point is that before you accuse me of god-modding, perhaps you should check your own horribly broken character.]


Note to Mods: Due to extensive debating and arguing, we are shutting this thread down because we can't stop fighting over it. Please just assume that Mount Obsidian erupted, forcing both of us to retreat. Thank you.