Round 1, Match 5: Monado vs. Boreal
Monado
From: Xenoblade Chronicles
Wielder: Shulk
The Monado is a legendary sword that can cut through almost anything, most notably the robots who serve as the main antagonists of the game. Interestingly, it cannot cut through people, merely bouncing off of them. The Monado will puppet the body of anyone who attempts to wield it and will kill them–that is, anyone except for Shulk. Instead, Shulk receives visions of the future from the Monado. These visions are cleverly utilized in the game’s battle system to allow the player to take actions to prevent the negative visions from coming to pass. Furthermore, the Monado can grant other skills, such as a boost to strength or speed. There are many more mysteries to unfold about the Monado, which are one of the main driving forces for the plot of the game.
Boreal
From: Sword-Dancer (Tiger and Del)
Wielder: Del
Boreal is an enchanted sword that can only be touched by those who know its name. It was used to kill a powerful swordmaster, and absorb their power. Boreal can also summon a snowstorm if the blade is sung to.
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Performance
It was Fourth Elmsday night of the moon, and in the ForgePit, business was booming. Tankards and horns and glasses were filled and emptied and filled again for the crowd of men who kept pushing and shoving their way through the doors, xerx, human, pexach, even a kief or three.
And not all men, either, there was more than one woman of one race or another sidling in or shoving in or, in the case of one very nimble and imaginative xerx, crawling in between the legs and feet of others until she reached the bar and popped up to order a beer.
Women danced on the stage, hips and bosoms moving to the beat, laughing as their bright colored silks caught the candlelight, the badge of the Pillow Guild somewhere, usually around their neck or slung on the golden chains that jingled from their hips, rings and toe rings and bells in their hair; some on stage and some wandered the crowd, promising delight and rapture in the back rooms.
But it was Fourth Elmsday of the moon, and those sisters of the Pillow knew that they were not the show this crowd had come to see. At half-nick to Middle Bells, the dancers left the stage, the four-person band to the side stepped away as well, and the crowd began to still; now would be the worst time of all to be thrown out, to be so close and not to see?
Mallow the Hornman was led to the side stage, the bandage around his eyes white and clean, and his little box, ragged and scuffed, was opened to reveal his gleaming brass horn, polished as if it were a king's coronet, and he picked it up as gingerly, too.
The nickwick snapped Mid-Bells, and Mallow played a single note, low and sultry, it rippled through the crowd, igniting a low flame in almost every person's guts, a flame that only rose when the candle flickered on the blades.
You always saw the blades first; no one ever could tell why, unless maybe a mage or something, but it was often discussed at length by those who had seen the show more than once.
The swords, each a hand and a half, rose to the air and crossed, and then you saw her. She was Xerx, no doubt; her fangs and tusks were snow white, her hair dark, dark brown, like good rich earth. Her skin was gold, not just yellow, but gold, and as she stepped up to the middle of the stage, the candles caught on her skin just so, to show the oiled muscles of her arms and calves and thighs as she began to move to the music Mallow played, the swords always moving with her.
They were proper blades, too, as she showed when she sliced right through a dozen candles to one side, hot wax sputtering over a man who had dared to reach for her ankle; Dav and Cars grabbed him up and dragged him to the side door as she kept moving, dipping, blades spinning, her breasts never quite escaping the low necked, short cut silk blouse, her skirt just enough to hide her buttocks and her pleasure away; she danced and flung the swords round and about, up and down and back again, twirling until the blades moved fast as ribbons round a maypole, and as Mallow hit the last long note, she flung herself up into the air, turning once, twice, and came down on one knee, swords crossed, back to the crowd, and laid down flat backed, chest heaving from the exertion, sweat darkening her blouse, to thunderous screams and applause.
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