OOC: It has been a LONG while since we've had one of these going. Anyone who wants to play out a fight to the end is welcome to join. I'm only really likely to be able to post on Wednesdays, so as long as you can post during the six days between then we can have this carry on through for however long it needs.

Pillars of chalky marble encircle Eli as he walks across the deserted arena. Large chunks of stone, some bigger than Eli's head, lay by the ancient stone decor. A statue of Caesar, missing its head, towers in the center of the arena. Eli turns, looking around at row upon row of vacant seats stretching up and out. This arena hasn't seen violence in centuries. Civilization has become more civilized than the brutal massacres of the Coliseums. Instead of chariots and lions and gladiators we now use guns and grenades and bombs.

But not Eli. Modern warfare bores him. True grace in battle was found in ancient times, among the Roman Legions, the Greek Phalanxes, the Japanese Samurai. It is to these warriors whom Eli has dedicated his studies of battle. He draws a line in the sand with his black katana, then another line, and two more joining together. A box, not unlike the shape he envisions during meditation. He sits inside the drawn box, sword resting in his lap, waiting in peaceful meditation.

He is here to test his skill. His competition will be arriving soon. The primitive part of him aches to draw blood. To feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins. To be a dealer in death.

Tonight there will be blood. Eli opens one eye, fixating on the headless statue.

Caesar, we who are about to die salute you.