In the middle of the remnants of an ancient city, torn down by the ravages of weather and time remained one last standing structure, what from the shape and size appeared to the martial eye of Tatsuya to be an arena. He had no pressing business and his nature was such that examining the building was of interest so he turned the dappel grey stallion on which he rode towards its entrance. Slow paces of a horse accustomed to war, raising spirals of dust in the midday sun, no breeze to blow it away, silence so heavy that the sound of the horses breath seemed to echo with Tatsuya's hearing. An ancient pathway, or simply a commonly used animal track leading to the entrance, dust and gravel crunching under the steel shoes of his mount, the suns heat not touching him for in his transformation a melding of the Fire Dragons will had slipped him from the normal path of solar reaction so common to the undead.
Six foot four of solid, work and war hardened muscle, arms as thick as most mens legs and wrists under his gauntlets that the clasp of two hands would not reach around. A torso, hidden beneath his cloak that had in the course of his training had men jump upon it and rocks broken on its surface and skin as hard as leather armour. Yet for a man his size, his motion as he dismounted his horse was elegant and graceful, he was very light on his feet and confident in his body. Legs like tree trunks supporting the supple muscle as he left his stallion to feed, no need to tie him for there existed a bond that the animal would come at the merest thought.
Turning and striding forth through the open stone tunnel leading into the arena, not expecting to see another being, pausing suddenly in the cool darkness on seeing in the arena's centre the figure of a man standing behind a sword driven into the earth. Pausing to study the figure, determining what it was, a sense of familiarity emerging from the cloistered recesses of his mind, the touch of reminiscence to the aura of one familiar with Dragon Kin emerging, but what was this figure doing here and whom did he seek to challenge. Stepping out into the brilliantly lit field of conflict, sniffing and smelling the aroma of ancient battle, hearing in the depths of his soul the taunts and roar of a crowd filled with bloodlust, screaming the name of some favoured challenger, blinking a moment and the silence returning reminding him that he stood alone in this place with only one other present. Still within the urge to face this unknown figure building almost in response to something buried within the ancient walls, some call to honour and glory captured within the ancient stone, implying its will upon all that entered.
Seeing a hook beside the tunnels mouth he paused removing his staff and swords from the loop holding them to his left shoulder, then unobtrusively uncloaking to reveal the smooth shaven pate, a single lock of dark hair at the back woven into an intricate plait and tattoos of blood red running down his face. The undercloak reaching to just above his knees, his feet bare for the hardness of skin was unbothered by rock, heat, cold or thorn. A belt made of bronze disks around his midriff and one shoulder bare, his right arm unencumbered so that he could wield whatever weapon he carried. Essentially ambidextrous, he tended to only wield a sword or staff from his right, simply for the fact it was useful to have the left unwatched since after all, a good punch at an opportune moment could decide a victor. Dropping to the ground, legs folding underneath him, arms spreading to the sides with palms facing forwards, taking a few moment to meditate and centre himself, eyes closing as he invoked the Fire dragon in simple prayer, the habits of his schooling hard to break even though he was now an undead thing, no power or potency drawn as the prayer was more to focus ones own thoughts and still the inner being.
Finally Tatsuya's eyes would snap open and in a single flowing motion he would stand, leaving his outer cloak hanging and taking hold of swords and staff before confidently striding to where the figure stood unmoving before him. Stopping some ten feet from the man, studying him, then gaze dropping to study the sword at his feet for a moment before the fire of his eyes would again meet the man's gaze. Again in his mind he could hear the roar of a crowd filling is vision and in the corner of his vision see crowds in the galleries facing where they stood although the logical part of his mind said no one had stood upon the ramparts in centuries. Left hand carrying his weapons, right hand raising, fingers splayed to show it held nothing before crossing to rest over his heart in salute. Dropping it back to his side, his gaze never leaving the man's eyes, wondering if the man was as the crowds, a relic of past glory or if he were indeed here and to what purpose... "I am Tatsuya Matsumoto... and I stand before you to take whatever challenge offered." As he spoke, right hand would reach across his body to claim the hilt of his ordinary sword, the heavy Dai-Katana, tossing the Dragons tooth and his staff off to the left, fingers seeking the worn grooves in the hilt to their most suited grip and waiting for the man to either accept or move away.
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