Not... Isolated [Mod]

[Crux]

Oh yes, he was back for more. These pieces of artistic poo had no idea what was coming to them. The hammering in his head came back after only a day (or maybe it never really left), and he had a grudge against the Shadows that inhabited the paintings. Crux had decided that these pieces of abstract art are pretty bad. The portraits are no less better since, apparently, their heads drop and fire spells at him. Very unfriendly of them.

Stepping through the doors once more, the android scanned the area for any immediate Shadow response. He cut to the chase this time, ignoring the distracting images and paintings of whatever was being portrayed within those frames. There was no way that he was going to any other section yet, so Crux kept his investigation within the Gallery. Aimless running around was amateur, leading to death and subsequent failure of the mission.

Crux placed a hand on his chest, and from the depths of his 'soul', he called upon his Persona. Tsukuyomi appeared in the same manner as he always did, crafting himself from shadow. He readied his blackened sword, and he stood silently still behind his master.

At the moment, he was in a 'living' mood. It is a mystery how long this 'moment' will last.

[Erithania]

Beware, the Ice Man Cometh!

Frigid Magus

Skills
Bufula
Zio
Garu

Null: Ice
Weakness: Fire

[Crux]

A few of the paintings already started to shake, all of them dropping onto the floor at once. They spasmed on the floor, vibrating as wildly as a console controller. Black streams poured from the images, emptying them of artwork and leaving behind blank, white parchments within gold frames. These streams combined and merged, creating two clasped hands. They opened up, revealing a masked figure with a jester cap. Its robes were frosted over, and the air around it was as cold as the interior of a deep freezer.

It was a little taller than Tsukuyomi, but its height didn't even make Crux cringe. He saw all Shadows as the same; size and shape are factors that only matter to humans. All Shadows will fall the same way: dead and subsequently non-existent. Everything is fated to end, and this applied to these beasts especially so. 

The Magus stretched an arm out in front of it, the hands enveloping its body opening up to allow it space to fire the spell. These processes were quickly done, and Crux only had time to raise both arms in front of him. A giant ice crystal shaped like a spear was discharged from the Shadow's hand, and its point clashed with its intended targets' arms.  It melted quickly, but it pushed the Unit backwards into a wall. The sleeves were ruined and iced over, but his arms, taking the full brunt of the attack, were border-line non-functioning. 

Crux pushed himself back up, his arms hanging limp by his sides. His face didn't seem to contort in pain, holding on to a very neutral face. His Persona replaced himself in front of his user, and automatically rushed forth to make a horizontal Cleave into the hands that gripped at the main body. They split into two each, and the four segments of the hands convulsed simultaneously. 

Seeming to have been angered, the Frigid Magus sent a Zio down on Tsukuyomi. Static surrounded both Crux and the Persona even after contact.  Crux knelt in his place, feeling some of his internal systems sputter off and on. However, he propped himself up against the wall, watching Tsukuyomi stand right back up as well. 

It was here that he gave himself up to the rhythm of the battle, changing up his own/Tsukuyomi's fighting style into something so gracefully animalistic. The Magus held an arm out again, charging Bufula. The instant before it was fired, Crux's Persona slashed down on this arm with his blade, and the spell exploded on the floor in front of him. He then raised his katana again, letting the dark energies pulse around it. Tsukuyomi slashed down again, propelling a crescent-shaped Mudo at the Shadow in such close range.

It shrieked and staggered backwards, and its condition was shown to be summarized in one simple adjectival phrase: absolutely trashed.  Its enemy finished its offensive with the final act of slicing its jester head off cleanly. The Frigid Magus shrieked loudly and shattered into tiny bits of black ice.

[Erithania]

Behold!



The victory of you!