Blaze International Round 1: BlackAndBlueEyes Vs Redford

[Zack Blaze]

((No time limit guys. Create the fight you two want and PM me when you finish! Good Luck!))

[Itinerant]

A man in a traveler’s cloak walked up the cold stone stairs to the foot of Radasanths’ ever famous Citadel. An impossibly large building, it loomed over the city, great stone spires casting shadows across districts of the city. Jacques stared at the ground, feeling rather insignificant. Yet, not one to balk from a challenge, he raised his head up, facing the seemingly oaken doors towering above him, framed ominously by a pair of braziers. The chilly fall breezes ruffled his hair, dancing through the strands. It was late and the streets were near to barren, the bustle of the daytime gone, replaced with the rustling of leaves on trees and the faint sounds of music from the few bars in the area.

Jacques looked around, and with a hand trembling slightly with the chills, he pulled open the door to the famed establishment. Swiftly he departed from the shadow of the stone spires to the stark firelight of the Citadel. Blinking quickly for a few moments, he reached into a pocket and From beneath his cloak he drew a wrinkled sheet of paper, with the carefully inscribed notice of a tourney that he was apparently invited to participate in. One Zack Blaze was hosting it.

“Odd name. Huh.” Jacques muttered to himself as he unclasped his cloak, slinging it over his shoulder with a snort. He walked forward, his footsteps echoing on the stone floors in the silent vestibule. Monks padded around, their cloth slippers muffling any sound besides the whispering of heavy grey robes on the stone floor. Jacques raised his hand in greeting to one of these monks, a man with a hawkish nose and a severe-looking face. He raised an eyebrow, nodding in the direction of the invitation. Jacques held it up to the monk, who read it quickly. He nodded, his demeanour lightening a bit. He motioned for Jacques to follow.

“Wait here for your opponent, sir. He should be along shortly if he’s not here already.” The monk said, nodding as he led Jacques to a small corridor, lined with doors and containing several wooden benches. The monk, once Jacques was seated, turned on his heel, his robes fluttering behind him as he walked back down the hall.

Jacques sighed audibly and settled against the wall, closed his eyes, and waited.

BlackAndBlueEyes offered up his spot to me around 4 days ago from time of posting

[redford]

Post is pretty short because we agreed to let Itinerant lay up the setting here. He's dope as hell with that.

Cold air bit at John's exposed skin as he rounded a corner, bringing him into the courtyard of the Citadel. Yes, he was here again, come to test his mettle against the best that Althanas had to offer.

He strode amongst a few booths through the open yard, noticing that the chill in the air had dampened the conversation he heard. There were fires lit for heat, and the place smelled of smoke as he walked up to the massive doors of the building and entered. John absently hoped that Jor was working around today, his jovial nature had always been immune to the Citadel's reputation for bloodshed.

And my own, John thought as he cast his eyes about, but not finding him among the monks. He took a few steps forward and rounded a bend in the hallway, making his way to the glowing portal marked '19'. This was where his opponent would be, and where one of them would be advancing to the next level of this "Blaze International" tournament. To be honest it had been a little publicized affair, with John only knowing of it since he'd gotten an invitation to attend. He noted to himself that he didn't usually attend these things.

But prize money is prize money, he thought, as he stepped into the portal. A flash of blue, and he was elsewhere.

[Itinerant]

Jacques raised his head as a shadow passed through his line of vision. Readying an inquisitive “Who’s there?” on his tongue, he traced the shadow back to its source, only to find the towering form of a man walking through the arena’s portal. Jacques nodded, chuckling to himself. The man would, if luck were to favour him, be short enough to avoid what was to come.

Jacques stood, tossed his cloak into the chest marked with his name. He slipped into the freshly oiled hauberk and grabbed the somewhat weighty dehlar dagger he’d bought. Jacques brushed a bit of dust off his pants, staring down the corridor to the glowing blue portal, starkly contrasting the dull grey stone next to it.

“Well, might as well dive right in.” Jacques said to himself, voice echoing in the empty room. He lifted his feet and began walking down the hall, stepping into the portal, and preparing himself for what the monks created based on his request.

The blue glow faded from his vision, and as it did, Jacques realized just a brush of the monk’s power.

Before him stretched a forest of seemingly endless trees, stretching and branching up into the heavens. Jacques walked up to one, running his hand along the spotted bark, feeling the rough, nearly sharp surface. He traced the bright white lines of sap dangling from above to a broken branch, hanging on by only a fiber. He flicked his fingers up, catching the strand. It dangled from his hand like a web dangled from a rafter. Jacques lowered his hand to his nose, inhaling deeply of the sickly sweet scent of the sap.

It was all too perfect for such an occasion. A dark, chill forest for a cool autumn night.

Jacques walked forward, exploring deeper into the forest, when he came into a break in the trees. He poked his head around one of the trunks, laying his eyes on the massive rock formation that towered above him. The sharp spires cast shadow upon the thick carpet of leaves below. Glimmers of minerals shone forth under the strange, ethereal light streaming down upon the formation.

Jacques looked up to the canopy above, casting his judgemental gaze upon the dappled light passing through, a strange violet color falling through the mesh of leaves to meet the undergrowth. He smiled and cast out his hand, conjuring a vortex of air, disturbing the multi-hued leaves on the ground, disturbing the deep and somewhat eerie silence of the place. The leaves whipped around the vortex several times before falling back to the ground, rustling as they did so. Jacques stalked forward, undergrowth and fallen leaves crunching in his wake. He grinned, drew his dagger and began his search for his opponent, ducking under the strings of sap and low hanging branches as he walked.

[redford]

John appeared in a forest, instantly looking around in the darkness for an assailant. The half-giant had lost two fights already to the unscrupulous tactics of opponents who chose to attack the moment one emerged from the portal.

But as no surprise attack came, John took a moment to analyze the terrain. Trees extended in all directions, and as John looked further he saw there were more kinds than he was able to recognize. There were oaks, pines, birches, some with strange bark, and some with drooping branches that touched the ground. The air was cool and dry, giving the forest an eerie, yet comfortable light.

John wondered yet again how the damned Ai'Bron were so good at crafting these kinds of arenas.

But regardless of their mastery over the forged reality, he still needed to find his opponent, who was somewhere in here already, he supposed.

He strode forward, ducking under an occasional branch, beginning to see a rock formation in the distance. A break in the trees came, and he saw a mountain of rock, quite unusual given his current surroundings. He looked around, but saw no one.

"Well," he yelled into the forest, "Where are you?"

Armor flowed down his arms to coat them as he walked around the mountain.

[Itinerant]

Jacques snapped his head to the left as he heard the telltale voice of John. The bartender growled, mildly annoyed. The man outmatched him by far. Jacques turned on his heel and raised his hands, flowing tendrils of subtly glowing air enveloping them. He stalked forward towards a tree bordering the clearing.

He slinked up to the tree, pressing himself against the marred bark of the trunk. He tucked the dagger in his belt, freeing his other hand to work his craft. John stalked around the mountain, looking like a bear on the hunt for fresh meat. His massive form, dwarfed by the rough pillars and peaks of the rocks towering above him, was coiled, ready to spring into an attack at any given time. Jacques had no intention of being victim to that attack. He rubbed his hands together, the streams of air combining with crackling static electricity. On any other day, he’d have reveled in the sheer power he felt, the energy of the arcane coursing through his veins, filling every muscle with a tense anticipation for the coming lash of power. But not this day. He had to be careful, stay in cover. He stepped forward, letting the small vortex whisk its way across the clearing, directly into the waiting form of John. With luck, the man would at least be knocked back. If not, he’d at least be partially blinded from the walls of leaves thrown skyward by the streams of air.


The wind kicked up in the trail of the magic kicked up a flurry of leaves into the air, the silence breached soon after by the howl of wind and the sudden rustling of hundreds of leaves thrown into the air. Jacques darted forward behind the wall of falling leaves and sticks, ducking into the cover of another tree, only a dozen feet from the one he was just behind. Jacques stepped lightly, fearing any sounds he may produce. He pressed himself to the woody form of the tree, drew his dagger, and with bated breath waited for a reaction from the mountain of a man he was seemingly facing.

[redford]

John rounded a boulder, still searching for his opponent.

Blast it all, I've rolled a coward, haven't I? He lamented his bad luck, glancing up at the stars, barely catching an approaching light from the woods.

The magic crashed into his side, ripping the sleeve of his shirt to ribbons and burning into his armor with electricity before his armor compensated.

There was always a familiar rush when a spell charged his armor, but different with every spell. He tasted iron and as he turned he smelled ozone, feeling the static of his stolen spell as he collected the energy into a point, barely catching a human form among the trees.

"Ha! Take THIS!" he yelled to the darkness, launching the absorbed spell back at his yet unidentified opponent. It struck the tree, for John was not quite a marksman with his finger, and blasted chunks of bark off the branches. He called to the shadows again.

"Come out and fight!"