This round begins at 12:00 PM PACIFIC TIME on Friday! Good Luck!!!
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This round begins at 12:00 PM PACIFIC TIME on Friday! Good Luck!!!
Duffy Bracken did not like liars, cheaters, and most certainly he did not like thieves. He had spent all his life in their company, by all means, but he tolerated them, and in turn, himself, because they never stole or lied to him. Mere minutes after meeting Aimer, his tale of the loss of his wallet, and not by accident, instantly riled every bone in his body, every fibre of his being.
“You’re going to be a pussy and let her?” he dropped his mouth open, for added expressionism. His voice was already high pitched, and his arms wide in a shrug. He was feeling particularly dramatic; given it was the day of the Lornius.
“What else am I supposed to do, Mr Bracken?” the gentlemen shrugged, though his own motion lacked any buster or conviction. “I’m not a fighter like you, nor have I got,” he hesitated, “your peculiar brand of talents.” The two gentlemen stared one another down for some time before either moved an inch.
“Aimer…Aimer…Aimer…” Duffy sighed. “Sei has been an enigma in my life all these years, so when I say this, I say it to you as a member of the Ixian ‘gang’…” He leant forwards and rested his cane less hand onto Aimer’s shoulder. He squeezed just enough to convey sadness. “I came here because Sei instructed me to teach you a thing or two about defending one’s honour.” In truth, Duffy had expected that to involve a parry or two with a cane and a seminar on concealing knives. He had something else to teach the boy now. “It seems like today’s lesson,” he stepped back, or rather, hobbled back on his broken shin, “will be instead about something much more fun.”
The breeze flicked Duffy’s hair to one side quite by chance. His marl eyes, which shone of their own accord and sadness tore through Aimer’ rising resilience. The bard could see that his team mate was by no means capable, or at the least, no means capable on first glance. He had taught many different people to do a wide array of things over the years, some not entirely moral, and some not entirely legal. He had every faith that this pupil would be a shining feather in his ageing, direction-less cap.
“Do you know what that might be, Aimer?” Duffy waved his free hand down over the balcony, into the bustling cityscape of Lornius’ cloud capital. The wavering, ever present sense of vertigo did not waver his enthusiasm. Neither did the constant roar of the strange machinations that kept the xenophobic citadel aloft.
Aimer shrugged.
Duffy rolled his eyes, “we’re going to teach you about larceny!”
For a brief moment, Aimer might have heard a burst of song. If it wasn't for the several fingers of bourbon both men had consumed over the course of the evening, he might have forgiven himself for going mad, what with all the excitement, imminent fear of death, and the disappointment he would feel if he went back to Sei without at least one tall tale to tell…he just bit his lip.
“I guess…” he mumbled. He said it again with a start when Duffy slapped him on the shoulder boisterously, gave the city one last forlorn glance, and disappeared back into the chambers gifted to them as ‘envoys’ of Scara Brae to the isolated island. Aimer was still not sure quite how Duffy had blagged them both into the grandest of the rooms set aside for visitors, but he was glad, given that tomorrow would be a test of his very soul, for the comfortable bed, the array of liquor, and the amusing company.
“I am so very glad to have met you, caned, but so very able all the same!” he bellowed, trying to be heard over Duffy’s burst of singing. This time, there was no mistaking the croaking warble of a man who thought himself Thayne’s gift to Thespian living.
I had always admired each of the Ixian Knight Captains. They were, after all, the elite in an army of great soldiers. The best of the best aspired to join the legendary Nine Generals who liberated most of Corone with their abilities. I never had such grandeur visions. In fact, my body is best described as ‘weak’ or ‘scrawny’, though those words did not quite apt describe me I was able to lift anything a man my size should, and in no way was I ‘see my ribs’ skinny. I suppose people just see what they wanted to see.
Which made me wonder what exactly what Duffy Bracken (one of the Nine Generals) and Sei Orlouge (The leader of said Generals) saw in me. I was a glorified baby-sitter, and here I was beside one of the most powerful men in Althanas history. This would be a great honor to practically anybody on the planet, yet I was reluctant to accept the man’s help.
The crowd of people we passed through seemed to shift away from us with each passing second. I had heard that Lornius was a continent made completely of xenophobes, but I guess I had not believed it until now. My clothes, the scent of my cologne, and probably even the way my hair was styled were all dead give aways that I was not from this part of the world, who seemed a bit more modest with their dress code and a bit less adventurous with how they wore their hair.
I shifted my shoulders, trying to make the situation less awkward. It felt as though all eyes were on us at all times. Perhaps that was how my wallet had been stolen in the first place; I was so concerned with what others thought of me, that I was ignoring things going on in my very own back pocket.
The smell of the industrialization brought me out of my thoughts. I could taste the smog in the air as I lead Duffy Bracken towards where I had my wallet stolen, a part of the dock covered by a massive canopy, with many tables set up and wares laid out on fine oak. I tapped by cane uncomfortably on the ground, as I had a bad tendency to fidget when I was doing something I did not want to do.
I started to breathe heavily, wincing at the stench of bourbon in my hot breath. I had let Duffy talk me into drinking with him, and while I could handle my liquor, I always found myself in the most precarious situations.
Just like this one.
The people around us started to shuffle back, once assessing that we were no threat, and continue in their day to day (or rather, night to night) routines. I could feel Duffy’s hand upon my shoulder, urging me to pick someone to …. I don’t know, ‘mark’ I guess is the terminology? Maybe he was just leaning on me for support; he had a lot more to drink than I tonight. My eyes shifted through the people as they passed by, my eyes being drawn to a beautiful blonde woman, holding something peculiar.
I furrowed my brow, trying to make out the object she was so callously holding. Even from about fifteen feet away I could make out the rippled and worn edges of my most cherished possession. I froze, my eyes growing wide as I pointed towards the woman. “Her…” I said, barely audible enough for Duffy to hear me.
“You chose her…?”
“No,” I said, shaking my head, my legs wobbling a little, “She’s the one that took my wallet….”
Misery Business was huddled at the corner of one of many tables under the canopy, conspiring quietly amongst the crowd of feasting and drinking Lornians. The outside space was an extension of the bar in the first floor of Duffy's and Aimer's lodgings, tented seating mingling with street vendors who called to tourists who came to the capital to ogle the spectacle of the rush of outsiders for the tournament. It sat at the very edge of the floating city itself, these "docks" suspended in midair with glorious aerial views of the island, crowds kept safe by the precautions of railings and trusting human nature... something absent in many of their current guests.
To Ags' chagrin, Zack convinced her of the benefits of blending into this unwelcoming culture, so her inhumanly vibrant features were toned down to a spectrum more friendly to human senses and slightly less conspicuous. Still, it was difficult to rein in the radiance of fey royalty, and no amount of heckling from a business partner would keep them from catching some roaming eyes.
"This, my friend," the fairy chimed over the noise of the crowd, holding up a worn, folded piece of leather in her partner's line of vision, "Is how one sizes up one's competition. In my years, I have developed an art you may think of as pocket divination. You'd be surprised what you can learn about a person by what they carry around with them." With that she winked cheekily at Zack, as if she'd checked his pockets when they first met and found something of particular intrigue.
He likely felt a bit violated in response, but the young man covered it well. "What about the other guy?"
Her response was a simple shrug. "A mystery. To be honest, I'm not sure what to make of a man with nothing in his pockets, save that you better be dealing with him tomorrow and not me." The fey had no delusions about her capabilities in an arena; if she was lucky, this other chap would turn out to be someone she could actually contend with and rise above the flattering label of 'distraction'.
Colorfully embroidered, draping sleeves flounced as Agnie dissected Aimer's wallet with careful deliberation, discovering no small sum of money first –– it must have been at least three hundred. "Oh, dear. I'll feel guilty if I don't give this back now, unless this is how much he usually spends on a night out drinking. I wonder what his goal is here. Fame? Infamy?" With that she took a break, reaching out to raise her glass for a long sip of some ridiculously expensive house cocktail she'd ordered on her colleague's tab. It was deep amber, and the fizzy liquid glowed richly under the warm bar-like lighting that reflected off the polished tabletops and made everyone look a bit better than they did during the day. Or was that delightful fuzziness just a buzz coming on? No matter. "Now, let's see what else."
Next she found the little pocket which housed half a dozen little scraps of paper, all slightly different and all with various penmanship, and they fluttered to the tabletop like precious petals. Each one bore a feminine name, some sort of contact information, and many were punctuated with hearts and impressions of lipstick. "Oooh," Ags tittered, "We have ourselves a ladies man." She always had good luck with those sorts, and thus was positively delighted.
The wallet was disappointingly empty, and when Agnie gave it one last open shake, only a few bits of lint fell out. "Hmm." She checked the spare compartments again, all of them empty, save the last which she'd neglected the first time through. "And what is this?" With utmost care, the tattered edges of the heavy piece of paper testimony to the value of this artifact, she extracted a well-cherished snapshot of an adorable little girl. Ags let her manicured thumb run over the rippled surface of the photograph, absorbing every last detail of that cheery face. "Bingo." She'd found her key.
Pleased with her accomplishment, she looked to Zack with a growing Cheshire grin, then downed the remainder of her drink in preemptive victory.
Zack leaned back in his chair, rocking the legs of the furniture back and forth as Ags searched through the man’s wallet. Watching the fae pilfer through the belongings was endearing to him, like watching child play around in their parent’s clothes. Misery Business Incorporated had asked Zack to participate in the Lornius Corporate Championship, an opportunity the street fighter jumped at to accept. As for the matter of his partner, Zack knew when he signed up that he would enlist the aid of the fairy princess Agnie.
After all, her particular skill set up until this point had proven very useful for advancing Zack’s goals.
The sheer number of contact information that fluttered onto the oak table shocked the teen a little bit. “An incubus, maybe,” he spoke, though it came out as more of a question. It was an interesting game, trying to determine what kind of person this mystery man was. He had a decent amount of coin in his wallet, so obviously he was well off. The obviously feminine information strewn about insinuated that he was a playboy as well. The biggest enigma was the photo that Ags currently held. From Zack's seat across from his partner, he could not make out who or what the picture was taken of, so he straightened up his chair and stood up.
Zack walked over to the fairy, looking at the little girl in the photo. She seemed no older than about eight years old. Zack looked for a moment, taking note of the sandy blonde, well groomed curls, the blue and green mixture of color swirling in her eyes, and the very sophisticated white dress she wore. He bit his lower lip as he pointed towards the photo, drawing Ags attention towards where he was aiming. “The right side of the picture is missing.”
“How can you---“ The girl paused for a moment. Zack assumed that she finally noticed the seared part to the right part of the photo, a trim of brown cut away so it was made to look as if the picture was complete. Someone went through a lot of effort to hide the other side of the photo.
Zack looked up towards the crowd, his eyes meeting that same blue green swirl that he had seen in the child. They belonged to a grown man, who was visibly shaken. He didn’t look like he would be a problem.
The other guy however appeared to be a threat. While it looked like he was leaning on his friend for support, Zack could tell by the firmness of his arm around the sandy blonde that ‘The Drunk’ was actually keeping ‘Shaky’ up. “Ags…” Zack spoke slowly, his hand resting on the woman’s shoulder and squeezing, trying to alert her without drawing too much attention. “Ags…get ready. I think your prey just became a predator.”
Circumstances prevail in the strangest of ways. Duffy groaned when Aimer suggested they ‘take a walk’ in a motherly fashion. The man insisted that he was by now quite drunk, when if anything, he was only just getting started. He had, in fairness, prattled on about morals for nearly thirty minutes before he had succumbed to Aimer’s wiles and let himself be whisked outside. Outside transpired to be a bitterly cold and bitterly heaving Lornius proper.
“You let that steal your wallet?” he said, somewhat taken aback at the rambunctious mix of beauty of oddness the woman in question possessed. He cocked his head to the left and then shrugged. It was by no means least an eloquent display of his confusion, but it served its purpose.
“She was quick,” Aimer objected. Duffy had no question about that, if rumour about Mr Rogers were to be believed.
“I’ve no doubt,” he said snidely. The bourbon on his breath was by now just vapour, but he left a trail of its sweet sickness behind him as he waded through the weaving crowd towards the seated individuals marked out as responsible by his team mate. There was no point in double-checking. Duffy was doubtful Aimer knew how to lie at all, even if his life depended on it. “Excuse me?” he said softly, hobbling with a little much meekness until he stopped some twenty feet from table’s edge. “Excuse me?” he repeated.
Indifferent to the medley of brightly attired noblemen, valets, and assorted hangers on that streamed around him, Duffy stood defiant of the duo. His hands, shaking, pallid branches of dexterity embraced the bulbous tip of the Cane of Eraclaire, and used it to support his weight. The burst of speed served as adrenaline, and that in turn served to burn away the drunken haze, or at least the air of he had been using to hide the lancing pain that rendered him constantly miserable. They were unimportant distractions, men and malice alike; at least until his work with Aimer was done.
“Are you perchance a follower of the good customs of the womenfolk of Scara Brae?” Aimer appeared at his side just in time to frown. His dashing good looks, which could have wiped the smirk of a whole gaggle of women’s faces turned swift into a dead pan expression. He mouthed ‘what the?’ silently.
Ags looked up, just momentarily, from her triumphant rifling. Duffy got the sudden sense of déjÃ* vu a thief got when he recognised another thief. He felt lighter in her presence, though, ironically, he never carried anything worthy of a pickpocket’s sticky fingers.
“If you mean the women folk of the slums, I’m game if you are?” she said smarmily. Her intention may well have been to insult, but Duffy, prudish as ever, saw it as a sign that she was well aware what happened to a woman who crossed a man of the courts of Valeena, Scara Brae’s queen.
If keeping your pockets empty was lesson two, and if keeping your employer rich was lesson number three, then it was only right that the first lesson in larceny was in turn the most important of all. Duffy had learnt it many a time, the hard way, and with bruises that still lingered on skin and soul.
“Excellent,” Duffy said, feeding off the reply like a prompt for a carelessly forgotten line. Without hesitation, but with plenty of gentlemanly grace, he leant over to Aimer and whispered into his ear the immortal phrase, “This fellow, is lesson number one. If they play dirty, play dirtier.”
A crack of thunder and a bolt of white light formed about his cane. In its stead, after the cries and whelps, and unladylike fainting died down, was a black sheathed katana.
I was unsure which was more shocking; Duffy’s forwardness with the thief or the casual way she seemed to be talking to him. Her voice carried with it a sweet melodic tone, the kind that would make people want to listen to whatever she had to say. Standing by her side was a blonde man in a fine looking leather jacket. He had some visible muscle to his form. Rather, it looked as though he had more muscle than me. He stood there, his eyes darting all over Duffy’s form as the crippled man conversed with the lady.
The second Duffy transformed his cane into a blade; I quickly began to make my way over to the three. Staying back would have been preferable, but once the weapon was drawn, I also noticed the blonde man slightly bending his knees. I don’t know why it sent alarms through my head, but I had the image of a cheetah pouncing upon a deer in my head by watching this man. I quickly came between them, my arm nudging Duffy backwards while the other was careful not to actually touch the other man.
“That’s enough,” I tried to say with authority, and the two of them seemed to lighten their threatening postures a bit. I walked over to the woman now that the pre-tournament conflict had been avoided. I looked to her with pleading eyes, trying not to be thrown off by her own differing amber and gold orbs (her left and right eyes, respectively). She had a wide, somewhat creepy smile on her face, and her eyes were getting slowly wider by the second.
“Ummm,” I took a step back, slightly put off by the attractive young lady, “I was just wondering if you would be sokind as to hand me my wallet back. It’s got a few things in there I really don’t want to lose. I don’t really care about the money, but the rest of the stuff is kind of important to me.” My eyes trailed off for a minute towards the slivers of paper and makeshift papers I had been given by female friends. “So, if I could just have it back….”
“Of course.” She said, neatly arranging each of the slivers on the table back up and placing them in my wallet, followed by the money, and finally the most important item. The photo of my little sister Amara had been a keepsake of my ever since I had left home. It was the only thing I had left to remember her by, as I had left home years ago. I thought about her age for a few moments now that I had her picture. “Wow….she’s thirteen now…” I whispered to where only I could hear, before drawing my attention back to Duffy.
“Calm down, Mister Bracken,” I slowly approached my fellow cane user at a moderate pace, “We need to get ready for tomorrow. We don’t even know who our opponents are yet…”
At Aimer's last emission, Ags covered her mouth with her hand to hide a coy little smile as she looked to her partner. "I almost forgot that they don't know," she said lowly, just loud enough that the other gentlemen could hear. This was on purpose, of course, and her musical voice carried well in the fresh silence of the crowd as it slowly backed away, thanks to Duffy's stunt. Now the center of attention of a throng of inebriated, xenophobic locals, all four of them were in a precarious situation, to say the least. Zack tossed her a knowing smirk in response, then they both directed their attention to their opponents.
Rising from her chair, the fairy smoothed her dress and offered Aimer her hand for a friendly shake. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Caned But Able." Her eyes glanced between him and Duffy, then suggestively at the sheathed katana. "You've certainly lived up to your team name, that's for certain."
Whether Aimer accepted her sportsmanlike gesture or not, she backed up to stand next to Zack and placed her hands on her generous hips. For someone so small, she certainly had presence. "I suppose it'd only be fair to inform you that you are conversing with your first match-up, gentlemen. I'm Agnie, this is Zack, and we come to the Lornius Corporate Challenge as representatives of Misery Business. I should clarify, we're much more delightful than our name insinuates." The glimmer in her mismatched eyes and merry blush in the apples of her cheeks betrayed that she was just as liquored up as they were, and enjoying this awkward situation far too much.
It was likely a strange affair for Duffy and Aimer, considering it was presumably against the rules to meet in such a manner; randomized match-ups were allegedly kept secret until the day of the fight. Apparently these Miserable Businessfolk had an in with the tournament organizers, or they'd been busy with some organizing of their own.
Either way, Agnie wasn't ready to shut up yet, fizzy drinks helping her feel even more talkative than usual. "We really lucked out," she said, glancing up to Zack. "I'm fairly confident we can handle a pretty boy and a gimp."
Zack smirked, standing tall in light of the big revelation to his opponents. He quickly stifled some laughter as Agnie referred to the crippled man as a ‘gimp’. He looked around; the eyes of the xenophobic people of Lyridia seemed to be concentrated on what was going on between them. Apparently, Mister Magician Man‘s little ‘cane to katana’ technique had drawn more than a few passing glances.
“Be careful,” Zack whispered low enough to catch Agnie’s ear, and calm enough to not drawn extra attention to themselves, “We aren’t supposed to fight before the tournament starts. We might get disqualified for starting a brawl with our opponents early. Pretty sure the Lornius Council would from upon a ruckus in one of their most populated cities.
Ags eyes shifted over to Zack, a wry little smirk painted across her features. “Are you saying not to do it? I never thought Zack Blaze, Finalist of the Adventurer Crown and Misery Business lead agent would be cowardly.”
Zack moved his own eyes to his partner, his own grin forming. “Quite the contrary,” a cool breeze blowing through which caused some strands of hair to fall back in front of his face, “We just have to make sure we have a good and convincing cover story that paints them as the bad guys.” Zack formed as fist as he spoke, turning his head and giving a small nod to the fairy.
“Well then,” Ags spoke without whispers now, as if she now wanted people to watch them, “Shall we?”
“Way ahead of you, Ags!” Zack shouted as he made an uppercut motion towards the opposing duo. The actually uppercut was designed to whiff, to completely miss, for it created a moving flame, about the size of a camp fire, hurtling towards the two across the ground. It was the opening move in an act of aggression towards a team that seemed more caned and less able.
Duffy restrained himself through Aimer’s show of weakness. It was not because he believed the man’s decision and course of action was correct. The bard was, to say the least; curious to see how the duo would react to a more civil approach. His eyes, though sullen and devoid of life, remained utterly fixated on their hands, their feet, and their facial expressions. They, to a man well versed in the dramaturgy of life, would be the tell that made or broke their attempts to reunite Aimer with his absent pride.
It did not take long for his doubts to be proven correct. As all down and outs were want to do, they turned to the only thing they would likely find solace in; violence. Duffy was by now quite used to it, receiving, and of course, delivering it. Aimer, on the other hand, had only really been exposed to the rough and tumble of wayward Orlouge children and their pets. With a snap that belied his apparently frail form, he pushed Aimer, hard.
“What the hell are you doing?” was all Duffy heard before the inevitable thud of a man crashing into cobbles. If the bard had remained on this plane for long enough, he might have replied with a pithy ‘saving your life’ or some such other clichéd retort.
By the time both the fire of treachery and Aimer’s gaze crossed path with where Duffy had been, it dawned on flame and futile minds alike that the bard had vanished. The ribbons of light that had always followed in the wake of The Aria’s presence danced for a moment in the darkening evening air. The onlookers gasped, cooed, and continued to slowly and surely edge away. The sight of the Thayne Tantalus’ power was commonplace in Corone and Scara Brae by now, but here on Lornius, it was an enticing, unfamiliar air of the wondrous.
“Oh, great,” Aimer said, cursing under his breath. It still smelt of bourbon, and now the unmistakable taint of failure lingered in every oaken scent. He pushed himself upright, picked up his scattered cane, and levelled his eyes onto the encroaching pair.
Duffy re-appeared, in an equally vibrant display of light, song, and colour. The sound of staccato drums rattling into a crescendo masqueraded the impact of Zack’s fire against the palisade wall behind them that divided boulevard with alleyway. It left a singe mark in the red brick that would have surely made short work of their less rigid flesh.
“You can thank me later,” was all Duffy said, before he leant his weight onto his untarnished leg and unsheathed the Katarhna from its lacquered scabbard. The blade, dull and long hidden from the world sang as it was revealed. The melody behind it was joyous, though in a negative key, and the words mimicked Duffy’s sentiment. Oh he of little faith denied, through chorus thick and love denied. “For now, watch and learn.” He slipped a dagger from the small of his back, which he usually kept neatly in the hook of his belt, and forced it upon Aimer.
Part of playing dirty, in Duffy’s book, was to trick your opponent into making a mistake they would pay dearly for. Though he remained still surprised and shocked at not seeing their twist and turn coming, he was certain he could use it to their advantage. The rules and edicts of the tournament, from what he read in the library of the floating city, were simple; if any team fought outside the tournament before the scheduled engagement, they would be…dropped from the roster. Duffy assumed this also meant dropped from the city, which would be a satisfying way to do away with both the woman and the mage.
“Gloves off, Aimer, you’re a long way from the brothel now!” he chuckled, skittering forwards with an unkindly gait and a strong, unmistakable limp. With a deft grip, Duffy held the Katarhna to one side, blade and tip down to the ground, and made straight for the woman. He longed very much to wipe the smirk off her pudgy face.
Quote:
One use of Union of Ages, to utilise Arden Janelle's 'Blink' ability.