Veteran Bracket: Dissinger vs. Amaril Torrun

[Tainted Bushido]

The match begins at Midnight 7/31/2009 and ends at Midnight 8/15/2009.

Beat the ever loving stuffing out of that emo ghoul!

[Amaril Torrun]

Be careful. It was the last message sent by his dragon child, Naryx, and Amaril could feel his young companion’s twinge of fear.

The half-dragon and his three Draconian brethren slowly drifted toward the ground below, aiming for the driest floor possible. Suthainn’s magnificence had mystified Amaril the moment he came to the city, but the swamps below always put him on edge. The murky depths hid the many dangers of the region well and the seemingly never-ending fog made navigation nigh impossible for all but the most experienced guides. The small company though, wasn’t in need of a guide for their particular endeavor. They were on a hunt.

The loss of travelers in Fiorair was nothing new. Unsuspecting men and women became victims of carnivorous reptiles hiding just below the watery surfaces. Many more simply lost themselves in the stretch of unforgiving land, never finding their way back out. It was a known fact. It was understood and accepted. The most recent disappearances however, warned of a new threat. Not only were the losses becoming more numerous, but humans were no longer the most represented victims of the land. Draconians had proven their ability to dominate and thrive in Fiorair, rarely falling to the environment. The distress of the recent disappearances was brought on by the uncharacteristic number of Draconian deaths. Alarmed, the four volunteer warriors had been tasked to find the source.

“Humph.” Rayane was the first to land, his thick, black boots immediately covered in a mix of mud and water. The other three experienced the same thing.

“What do you think it is?” Elereth, the youngest of the volunteers, questioned. His voice held the same note of fear as Naryx, giving Amaril the sense that the Draconian may be a bit too young. He held his tongue.

Rayane, the only one with true military background, did the speaking. “It doesn’t matter. Whatever it is, we’re going to put an end to it.” The assumed leader gave the immediate area a quick scan. “Stay together. If it is something nasty, we can’t afford to go at it alone.”

Almost unconsciously, Amaril reached over his shoulder to touch the hilt of his large prevalida blade. The need to check on his prized weapon every now and again had become a habit long ago. The cool metal meeting with his clawed hand heightened his lust for the coming battle. It was an odd characteristic that was slowly beginning to grow on him. He had once only used violence out of necessity. Now he felt anticipation.

“Scared, Elereth?” Daedan teased. He was the largest of the group, wrought with muscle on every visible part of his body. He was also the most arrogant. “Don’t you worry. If a big Nasty comes at you, I’ll take care of it.”

Rayane gave the Draconian a stern look, but left it alone. Daedan’s words were harmless. “Let’s get moving. The more ground we cover, the sooner we’ll find whatever it is we’re looking for.” All obliged, causing an instantaneous chorus of thick plopping sounds as eight legs trudged through the mud. With every step, Amaril was sure that his boots would be sucked right off his feet by the coagulated dirt, but they managed to stay in place.

It was only after they began searching that he realized the lack of light. The massive trees created an extensive canopy that hid most of the sun’s rays from the distant ground below. Mid-day meant little to the wooden titans. Coupled with the fog and opaque waters, Amaril began to feel a sense of dread.

If we run into this thing, it won’t be because we found it. It’ll have found us.

((The NPCs involved are the brainchild of both participants. These NPCs can be used in any way by both of us. Have fun trying to eat me. ))

[Dissinger]

There comes a time in everyone's life where they find themselves in an unusual situation. Perhaps it is Fate, using her hand to deliver a blow to lower one's ego. Perhaps it was the gods themselves, tired of the cavalier attitude of the once proud Lavinian, but when he was forced into the form of a ghoul, hungry for the flesh of the living, Seth Dahlios, had reached his limits. Further, he was feeling more cravings even now, merely a week after the last feeding.

He sat in the darkness, his eyes closed. Not that he needed them, his senses had long attuned to the point he could find his targets without need for sight. It was a habit, one of a man who had many, more than a few deadly. The tree's branch he sat upon had the girth of a giant's leg, and with no rot to weaken it, held the massive ghoul, even as he leaned against the trunk. His hair drooped in front of his eyes, hiding them even as the sounds of the insect life and the wildlife filtered into his ears.

Even now his vest still bore the hole where the hand had punched through. His shirt bore a similar hole, the edges long since stained a rusty brown, and his skin, while flawless beneath, still bore the scar of the hand that had ripped his heart from its resting place. His chest inflated and a large sigh left it, even as he didn't need to breath, the reflexive habit giving some semblance of life to the long dead ghoul. It was then he heard or, and felt it. His meal had come to him...a large one.

Opening his eyes, he sprang from off the branch, moving to another tree nearby, heading towards the pulse of life that far outweighed the surrounding life. No longer was he just a brutally efficient fighter, he was a well honed killing machine, darting from tree to tree until finally he could see them below, searching the area. The vines that clung desperately to the trees, attempting to choke and degrade them rustled with his passing, causing one of the watchers below to look about.

"Hold, I think I hear something..." One of the Draconians below held up a hand, the fist a visual sign of the order. There were four men standing below him, some more along the lines of the kin their name evoked, and some more like the ghoul before he had died. A soft snicker left his lips as the biggest of the group seemed to call out to the darkness;

"I think you're just hearing things. Gods above and below know you should be careful giving orders like that, might give poor Elereth a heart attack."

With a mental command the chains dropped from their position around his wrists. A feral smile crossed his lips, even as he thought about how to tackle the largest of the four. From there he'd need to pick out the smartest and destroy him, before heading onto other threats. Still as he moved about the tree the boasting draconian let out a brave chuckle even as he looked about the area.

The draconian opened his mouth and craned his head back, cupping his hands to his mouth before he bellowed, "Come out come out wherever you are!" It was at that moment the Lavinian Demon had made his way to just above the draconian. The soft clinking of chains floated upon the winds as the humid temperature of the area forced his clothes to form a second skin upon the long dead flesh.

With a loud rattle the chain sped forward and wrapped cleanly around the Draconian's neck, before the ghoul leapt off the branch he was on. Using the large draconian as a counter weight he slide down, the rattling of the chains continuing as the large man was hoisted above the air, and hung. A jerk caused a sickening snap! to echo through the area as the human landed in their midst.

Only, he definitely did not look it. He was first of all larger than the usual human. His bulk and height had been increased when he received the curse of undeath. It had given him strength, and further, speed. His body looked merely like a larger form of the one time thief, but the clothing was tighter, showing off the ropey muscles of the Lavinian. His face contorted into a sickening grin of perverse pleasure.

As he jerked the chain, it unhooked from around the man's neck, causing his body to fall lifelessly to the ground before his words echoed in the small clearing, "And then there were three..."

[Amaril Torrun]

They traveled for little more than an hour, making their way a mile or two from Suthainn. The lives of future travelers and the citizens of the Draconian capital depended on their success, but the darkness and fog made the search seemingly hopeless. How successful can we be? I, for one, can’t see a damned thing, and our trampling through this watery land is signaling every creature within a mile of us that we’re here. He desperately wanted to prove his worth as a new citizen of Suthainn, but couldn't help wondering how long it might take for the rest of the party to give up. What if they refuse to give up until we find this deadly creature? Who knows how long that could take?

It didn’t take long.

Daedan’s playful beckon was answered with a swift death. Before anyone could react, the other three were forced to watch as the large Draconian’s neck snapped, the dead body supporting their attacker’s descent from one of the massive trees. A small cry escaped Rayane, for the two had been good friends.

It’s not a creature at all. It’s a man!

Amaril didn’t know what to make of it. Something wasn’t right. The man’s only words indicated a countdown for the remaining companions, sending a slight shiver down the half-dragon's spine. The assailant was too confident that he was going to kill them all. It sounded as if it might be a game for him. The anticipation he had felt for battle was dwindling quickly.

Drawing his sword, he heard Elereth and Rayane do the same. The situation felt odd. Were they meant to arrest their prey if it turned out to be human? They had received no such instructions, but then again, their orders had been quite vague. He wondered what to do next, but dared not take his eyes off the enemy to find answers from Rayane. The lead Draconian seemed to read his mind.

“You’ve lost your chance for a lighter sentence, murderer. By killing him,” he pointed at Daedan’s body, “you signed off on your own death sentence.”

Without waiting for any sort of response, Rayane swiftly charged at the large man. The Draconian went directly for the front of their enemy, vengeance written all over his face. Amaril hoped that his ally could remain calm enough to stay focused and survive. For the moment, the man simply stood there with a sly grin, his arrogance hinting at several tricks up his sleeve.

The half-dragon took short notice that Elereth appeared rooted in place, most likely out of fear, before joining the attack. Deciding to go for the man’s back, he swung his massive sword in a horizontal arch, meant to cleave the murderer in two. Allowing the momentum required to move such a weapon to spin him around, he whipped his lethal tail for a second strike. The tip of the scaled appendage jabbed violently toward his enemy’s lower back.

[Dissinger]

"Death? Hah!"

The words were lost in the maelstrom of chaos, even as he brought his arms in front of him. With a flick of his wrist the chains began to wrap around each arm, until finally they charged. The chains had only completed one revolution by the time they had engaged the Lavinian, and forced him into a defensive posture. The blades arced for him and he managed through a bit of luck to deflect the first blow, the chains rattling as the blade bounced off.

The second blow struck deep, coming to a halt somewhere in his stomach, and out the back. The second blade cut a deep strip and came to a ruthless halt somewhere against his spine, even as the tail punched through his chest and emerged from the other side, splashing ichor upon the Draconian's comrades. All this happened in the span of seconds, precious seconds were wasted as that grin never left his face.

"Was that supposed to hurt?"

The eyes of the Draconians whipped him with disbelief, even as the grinning Lavinian let his smile widen, revealing a predatory smirk. Immediately a punch went out and caught one of the men fully in the face. The smaller draconian cried out in pain as he backed off. Meanwhile Seth roughly pulled himself from the embrace of the blade that had been nestled firmly against his spine.

As he stepped forward, over the fallen draconian he felt the tail roughly pulled from his wounds, wounds that should have killed him. While not lethal to the ghoul, he had to be careful, lest he take much more damage and be forced to regenerate them. Looking over his shoulder he saw the man held a bit of fear in his eyes, much like the Draconian he had punched. No, they were no threat.

The one before him holding his sword came at him again, even as he dislodged himself off the only other standing fighter. This one held no fear, only a simmering anger, and seemed to shake off the initial shock of their comrade’s death. This one was the smart one, the veteran of the group. As he brought the sword up again, the sound of metal upon metal could be heard, before a single dagger blocked the blow.

"I must say, not everyday someone forces me to stop playing with chains, a name for the deceased?" The words dripped with a friendly sarcasm, even as the draconian growled lowly, a rough shove sending the Demon back a step. The muddy ground clung desperately to his boots, and caused the Lavinian to frown in irritation.

"Rayane, friend of the man you just killed," He managed through clenched teeth as he brought another attack up. The Lavinian managed to move and deflect that blow before another blade joined the mix. This one, unlike the previous was a black matte finish that refused to reflect any light.

"I figure its only good form to tell my victims the name of their killer..." He said even as he clutched the gift of the magi. The downed draconian had finally managed to recover from the blunt trauma of taking a punch from the strong ghoul. Blood and a tooth were spat upon the ground, only to be hungrily gripped by the muddy ground.

Everyone soon saw, that despite the holes and terrible damage, the skin of the man before slowly sealed up and healed good as new. A minor sigh of irritation at feeling the pain of those wounds for the first time crossed his lips. He then dropped into the tradition Lavinian fighting style, by reversing the grip on his blades, so that they ran along his forearm rather than towards his foes. It was then he told them his name, "I'm Seth Dahlios, the Lavinian Demon at your service..."

[Amaril Torrun]

Now Amaril knew why the man had acted as though their deaths were assured. He watched and felt the many fruitless attacks do enough damage to kill a person several times over. The man simply took it in stride and knocked Rayane back with a swift blow to the mouth, the eerie grin never leaving his face. He hadn’t even tried to avoid the many attacks. The half-dragon took several steps backward.

A demon…

He had only one previous experience in dealing with demons, but he had one fight on his side as well. If his ally, Zieg, had taught him anything, it was that mortals should not get involved with demonic enemies. He was doing a pretty poor job of capitalizing on that lesson.

“What the hell!” His outburst couldn’t be helped.

He and his companions watched in horror as every single scratch on the creature healed. Elereth shook his head, acting as though he was ready to run at any moment. Amaril found himself agreeing with that notion, but neither budged. Rayane stood poised for battle, his face blotched and lips bleeding. He wasn't giving up and they couldn’t leave him alone.

The half-dragon's mind raced to figure out a way to kill the thing called Seth Dahlios. The demon had shown a small amount of pain when healing, proving that he wasn’t completely immune to death. If the wounds they had already dealt weren’t enough to do the job, losing his head might. Amaril gripped his sword tighter, the blood of his previous attack still sliding off the edge of the blade. Still slightly behind his enemy, he felt safe catching his companions’ attention with a quick wave before sliding one claw across his throat. He hoped the signal would be enough to explain his plan.

“Alright Seth,” he declared, trying to get the demon to turn toward him. “Since we’re playing the introduction game, my name is Amaril Torrun.” He allowed his inhuman glands to start forming a deadly ice dart, just in case things got a bit too close for comfort. “I doubt you could actually be of service to us though, seeing as how you seem hell-bent on our deaths.”

Raising his sword, he prayed that one of the Draconians would lop off Seth’s head before he got himself killed. He lunged forward, slowed slightly by the mud’s suction. As soon as he got within range, he swung his sword at the demon for the second time. This time he tempered his swing, holding back just enough so that he could easily go on the defensive. His attack was just a ploy, intent on distracting the lethal being just long enough for his allies to do the real deed. He dimly noticed Rayane on the offensive as well.

[Dissinger]

The eyes don't lie...

The man had no intention of killing Seth. As soon as that was figured out the reaction was simple. The dagger swung out, clanging off the metal of the sword, even as he noticed the Draconian sneaking up behind him, attempting to finish the deed. Those eyes held the fires of death, the look that he had seen countless times before. It was the look of a predator, one who had made peace with killing a fellow sentient being.

He had made a living extinguishing those flames...

The brightly colored dagger in his offhand clattered against the metal of the sword, and the Demon was forced between the two swordsmen. His hair had fallen over his eyes, hiding them, showing no trace of emotion, even as the grin continued on his face. Slowly it was erased, as he realized it was time to end this farce of a contest.

"You couldn't kill a chained Lavinian...pathetic," His voice echoed, showing an intense bitterness at the situation. His fun was ruined in almost as much time as it had taken the former thief to exhale from the exertion of keeping the blades from his skin. A low growl began deep in his chest before with a roar he flexed his muscles and shoved back, sending Rayane stumbling back across the mud, and onto his back.

With an artistic twirl the daggers were holstered once more, before he gripped the chains with a furious zeal. Whipping them about he cut deep into the flesh of the poor draconian who was left close. The frailest, and the one exuding the most fear fell to the ground, surely by now terrified and on the verge of a mental collapse. There was no rationalizing what was going on, even as the demon turned his back to the other fighter who had tried to distract him from Rayane.

Moving towards the downed Draconian a chain whipped out before it wrapped about the man's leg, the links snatching the limb firmly in a vice grip. Soon with another bellow of rage, the Draconian was sent flying through the air, before his sojourn was abruptly ended by a collision with a nearby tree. The sickening snap of bones filled the air before the Lavinian sneered and with a jerk once more released the grip upon the body. The man was still alive, much like the other Draconian who he had savaged with the chains.

Cold eyes looked out from under the hair before the Demon spoke, "If that was the best your group had to offer, commend your soul to the Thayne."

[Amaril Torrun]

The Draconian race boasted of a proud existence. Even children were shown how to fight for their lives. A nation capable of turning every man, woman, and child into an able-bodied soldier could be found nowhere else. Warfare wasn’t something that every Draconian found themselves completely dedicated to. Their ferociousness and prowess in combat was simply one racial trait out of many. That zeal for battle, combined with an extreme religious devotion however, gave them the ability to look death in the face, accept it, and fight until their bodies finally gave up. For those that could find honor in death, cowardice was a sin.

For a moment, oblivious to the heat of battle, Amaril cringed at a painful realization. He felt no comfort that dying to this murderer would bring him honor. He wasn’t ready to die. He was scared. In spite of all his strongest desires to finally belong, to finally find his own kind, he lacked one of the most pivotal characteristics he had hoped for. He couldn’t find that needed bravado. He wasn’t Draconian. He was still alone.

Elereth was truly terrified now, wounded and in serious pain from the chains. It was a different kind of fear compared to the half-dragon’s though. He feared the demon before him, but not the death that demon could bring. Sword still held feebly in his hand, the young Draconian’s eyes still held the smallest amount of pride that seemed impossible to completely stamp out of one of his kind. He was ready to die.

I can’t do it. Amaril slowly started to back away.

Rayane gasped in agony, his death all but certain. His injuries were too grievous for him to make a recovery. Elereth slowly pushed himself back up, blood dribbling down his powerful forearms and torso. The willpower it took to raise his sword and brace for an attack showed in the strained veins on his neck and the rigid jaw line. His wounds gushed, spilling his life with no end, caused by his reckless movement. He could still survive, if allowed to heal properly, but Seth’s presence obliterated that chance.

We’ve lost…

His mind was in torment, conflicted more than he had ever experienced. He saw his companions, muscles flexing and lungs still pumping out ragged breaths. To leave them behind was a disgusting proposal. The idea was despicable. Yet, in a way, they were already corpses. The Lavinian Demon no longer appeared to be having a good time. He was ready to put an end to the ordeal. There was nothing in the party’s disposal that could put a stop to him. The half-dragon’s conscience retreated, allowing his primal instincts to take command.

“I…” he began, to no one in particular, “can’t die here.”

Suthainn was just a mile away. He turned and fled.

[Dissinger]

Seth heard the other one get up, the grunt of determination filtered through the thief's numbness. Even as the Lavinian turned his baleful glare upon the downed Draconian, he could see it in the man's eyes. The desperate last stand, a karmic strike meant to bring balance to the world in a manner that would see this murderer harm no more. It was amusing in a brief moment, even as the Demon could feel the futility of the action.

"At least you fight, I'll make your death fast," Seth stated cleanly. A chain wrapped around the man's sword as he jerked, tearing it from his grasp. A sigh escaped his lips before he moved forward wrapping the chain casually around his wrists. Forgotten for the moment was the fleeing Draconian, he would be dealt with shortly. No, now was a time of battle, and Seth could almost feel his heart beat in anticipation.

The man rushed him; sword held over his head, it was the amateur move of a rookie. Seth only shook his head as he blocked the blow, with a chain wrapped arm. As quickly as the anticipation had come, it was gone. Seth was just too strong now. The sword clanged off the chain links before he said softly, "Not like this...you wish to live right? Or at least die gloriously?"

The man let out a cry of anguish as the sword was brought about in another wild swing, which would see the Lavinian raise the chain clad arm again, and intercept the lethal blow. Again and again the man pounded at the thief, to find the arm move to counter the acts, until finally the man had slumped to the ground, his cries of anguish now to a lament of tragedy. Tears streamed down the man's face as he was forced to acknowledge his worthlessness.

"I know, it's not fair, the righteous and just don't get to win, only the cruel and evil. That's the problem with a world like this, evil isn't cut and clear, it doesn't step forward and introduce itself. It's cold, and sly, it slinks past your defenses and wears you down. You think at first, 'Why not? What's the worst that could happen?' Then, you realize you've slipped, only a little, but enough. Evil now has you..."

The Draconian looked up at the Lavinian in disbelief as the rogue slowly picked up the man by the front of his jerkin. Lifting him up the man cried out in pain as Seth casually strolled over to the downed form of Rayane. Upon reaching it he tossed the other man next to his dying friend before he continued, "So you resolve not to fall again, but it continues. You've had a taste; you know what its like, so you think you're immune because you've had it once. Power, power unlike anything else was in your grasp and for one second, the world was yours. Do you know what its like to turn that down? Didn't think so..."

The man looked up at him with a fear in his eyes as the Lavinian crouched next to Rayane. There was a feral glint in the Demon's eyes before he said softly, "Not a day goes by that I am not reminded of how far I fell, thinking I could control this hunger within me. You two are the lucky, and if you work quickly, you might just save yourself. But your two partners, they are mine. I would suggest not moving him too much, his lung is probably punctured, and that’s why his breath is a wet gasp. If they both aren't punctured he'll survive when it dries in the lung, but he'll not be as swift as he once was. Pray that it’s only the one..."

A clawed hand gripped his chained arm tightly as the Demon stiffened under the hold. He didn't move, waiting for the blow, and it came, across the face so hard he was more than certain a tooth or two were dislodged. Spitting out the mixture of blood and bone he smirked looking at the man who had done so, the same man who had attacked him earlier. Breaking the Draconian's grip he spoke softly, "I deserved that, but that's the only free shot you get for this. I suggest you figure out a way to live..."

Looking out over the swamp he moved from the two remaining Draconians before he arrived to the corpse. Tossing it over his shoulder he spoke firmly, "One of these days, you'll come seek me out. Go to Reven, and I'll have no doubt you'll find a way to reach me. Get stronger if you do, because I won't give you the same shot twice."

It was then he sped off after the escaping Draconian. The first sprint took him to a low branch, before he launched off and sped up, racing from branch to branch. He was sure he'd catch the fiend at the edge of the city, and give him the scare of a lifetime...

[Amaril Torrun]

His escape was haphazard at best. Unable to find a clear flight path amongst the gigantic trees and their countless branches, he found himself stuck on foot. His noisy footsteps splashed the muddy water onto his chest and into his mouth and eyes. A stench of death enveloped his nostrils, though that was most likely the guilt he was trying so hard to suppress. He had to spit out his unused ice dart in order to ease his increased breathing rate. Though stronger than most men, his endurance wasn’t something he could boast about.

I’m such a coward.

He could hear nothing from behind. There were no cries of pain from Elereth or Rayane, though he supposed the demon could have finished them off without a chance to react, even verbally. His icy blood got even colder, and he felt as though a hollow cavity was slowly take form in his chest. The depressive shame was retaking its hold.

“No!” He stopped for a moment, battling his own thoughts. “They’re dead by now! I have to keep moving!” His conscience wasn’t satisfied, but his body grudgingly obeyed.

Through open patches in the fog, he began to see the edges of the Draconian capital. Unaware of the violence below and surrounding it, Suthainn was the calm center of a lethal and unforgiving storm. The half-dragon sheathed his sword as he trampled through the swampland. A young faoi barely lurched into a nearby pool of water, almost crushed by the sprinting giant. A clearing started to come into view, created by the Draconians in order to help winged travelers enter the city. Further into the open expanse was a rope elevator, for those not blessed with the gift of flight. He spread his wings just as he entered the clearing, beating them powerfully to propel himself into the air.

The deadliest of storms show their true power just before the calm center.

Out of nowhere a large mass collided into Amaril’s back, sending him falling back to the ground. The mass landed on one of his wings, tearing into it as the thin membrane folded awkwardly underneath. His cry fell on deaf ears as he rolled over and found Daedan’s body to be the source of his plummet. He pushed the corpse off his injured wing, fear bearing down on him as he struggled to get back on his feet. He tried to get back into the air, but the crippled appendage wouldn’t allow it. The pain was immense, causing him to grit his teeth.

A shadow flew over his head, and he turned to watch the last figure he wanted to see land in the clearing, having launched himself off a branch. A maniacal grin spread across Seth Dahlios’ face, and he realized the Draconian body had been hurled into him intentionally. Amaril was no longer the predator, but the prey. He couldn’t kill the man. He knew it, and so did his foe. His only chance to survive was the elevator, but he had to pass the demon to get to it. Something told him that he wouldn’t be able to simply stroll right by.

“Damn it Seth!” he spat. “Why? Why are you here? What’s the point?”

He redrew his sword, unsure of what good it would do him. He needed to figure something out. He needed to stop the Lavinian for just a few seconds. He needed to live.

((The bunny rabbit running around at the end of the post was approved via PM. In fact, consider all bunny rabbits to be approved unless noted otherwise.))