(7) Dark Phoenix v (18) Circus

[Ashiakin]

Round One starts at 12:00 AM EST on Sunday, April 30th and will last two weeks. Good luck!

[Dissinger]

He walked into the building, knowing full well what lay before him. The road of slaughter that had ended abruptly at Serenti now lay before him again. The blood sweat and tears of fighting to the top of the mountain almost consumed him again. However, once again he was focused. Following the Serenti he had wandered Althanas for gods knew how long, trying to find the one he sought whole heartedly. He knew that today he wouldn’t find her, but now that didn’t matter, the task at hand did, in a morbid way.

As he entered the building he saw a fence of chains before him, criss-crossing at various angels, trying to prevent one from escaping through them, but all the same the metal shone in the light. It was steel, hard and cold, the impersonal bringing of death to those that would oppose it. The idea was clear; this was a cell, of which only two could be set free, the bloody victors of this first round of torment.

He had left his partner back at the hotel deciding to investigate the site, come up with ideas beforehand. And now he was glad he had, this would be far tougher when there was no escape. He could see a few Lornious officials around the cage, in order to make sure the potential victors would survive the encounter. As he walked around the cell his hand trailed along the chains, causing them to clink softly starting a chiming chorus of voices all pronouncing their strength.

The demons within him raged as they knew today they could be sated. Seth held them in check for now, not wanting to let his contained anger free quite yet. He moved slowly each footstep echoing through the cold void of the room as the officials watched the first entrant. He stopped once he reached the entrance to the bizarre contraption, a gate that was fused to the frame of the structure. He then smirked as he flipped the catch.

Walking inside the cell he looked around taking in the sheer volume of it. While it was a good fifty feet high, it must have been at least a hundred wide. It would make a terrific battlefield, one that no one could escape. As he heard the gate close behind him his eyes closed, as he listened to the chimes of the chains again, feeling them dip into the darkness within him. He grinned as he felt the demons within him get louder, the cacophony of their voices entering his ears. He stifled them for now, he had to defeat his opponents, and that time would come soon enough.

He was in a dome of steel, a carnal house of pain, and he was smiling.

[Nightsangel]

Sivienna sighs as she sits in the dark hotel room. She had thought that when the tournament began that Seth would have at least woke her up. But know he had simply let the pretty night vixen get her 'beauty' sleep. Sivienna normally woke up at the slightest sounds, it came from her years of sleeping alone and having to worry about being attacked at the slightest moment. However it seemed that she had been so comfortable, that she had stayed locked in her dream world. Even when Seth had opened the door and had slipped out earlier in the morning light.

She had thought she had heard a click, but she had attributed that to the dream she had been having. In it she was dancing with a shadowy individual, and when the click had happened she had just thought it had been her dress heel clicking against the solid marble of the floor. She had merely sighed as her unknown partner twirled her lightly in his arms. She had slept for a few more hours lost in her world and endless dance.

Finally she had been awoken by a slight knock on her door, it seemed that housekeeping needed to come in to straighten up the room. Rubbing her eyes the pretty woman had padded her way to the door still clad in her sleeping clothes. She had opened it up for the young elf girl, and it had been then that she had noticed her partner was missing.

Sighing audibly as she listened to the cheerful elf girl straighten up the sheets and tidy the mess she and Seth had left from their dinner remains the previous eve. She sighed before she slipped into the bathroom and changed into a pair of soft leather pants and a tie back halter style top. Sighing as she fixed her purple hair into a sleek and straight ponytail she murmurs to herself "Damn you Seth....just why did you go on ahead? You could have taken me with you know! Instead you make me look like the fool who overslept!" Still grumbling to herself Sivienna made her way out of the bathroom. Smiling briefly at the elf girl she murmurs softly "Just straighten up the place then you can be on your way....I have to go meet my partner...at our designated battlefield...."

The elf girl fluffed a soft white pillow as she looked quizzically over at the vampiress. In a soft voice she murmurs "Its not unusual for partners to meet each other miss...are you sure he didn't leave you a note?"

Sivienna sighs as she moves towards the door murmuring "I’m sure miss...but thank you for the concern..."

The elf girl laughed softly as she murmurs "You might want to grab a bite to eat miss, the competition. here for the Lorinius Tournament is rather strenuous. Why don't you get a bite to eat before she running straight to the center?"

Sivienna sighs as she murmurs "Thanks for the suggestion...I’ll just go grab something quick...then be on my way..."

The elf girl smiles as she murmurs softly as she begins to fold up the extra sheets that were strewn around the room "Sounds like a good plan miss..."

Sivienna nods as she softly closes the door and murmurs to herself "Yeah...it sounds like a perfect plan...." Groaning as she begins to walk she finishes softly "What would be more perfect is if Seth and I didn't seem at odds with one another...."

[chumley]

"By Ezekiel's flaming chariot!" Chumley heartily bellowed, pole-vaulting over a smoking fissure in the earth while picking his teeth with the fingerbone of a skeleton he had passed on the way through the angst-ridden nightmare that was this corner of Althanas. "My, what a Plutonian landscape this is! I do believe I passed Cerebus on my way here, the snarling cur!" Flicking the bone away with a deft twirl of his wrist, the pacyderm walked toward the... well, whatever in Hades it was. It appeared to be a spider's web of chains, a confusing mass of metal wrapped around more metal, with some metal spikes for emphasis.

"By the dusts of Dakota!" Chumley chortled, pulling out a cigar of his own brand and sniffing it delicately. The delectable odor, a smell such that might emanate from the seafoam of Venus' origin, caused Chumley's nose to run, and he immediately tucked the tobacco away and pulled a handkerchief from behind his ear with his nose. "What useful things prehensile appendages are!" Chumley bellowed, snorting his proboscus clean. "Now, to battle!"

The elephant had only the vaguest idea of how he had come here, whereever "here" was. It was a tournament, he knew, but its ultimate goal was a mystery. How had he entered? He knew not. Who was he to fight? 'Twas unclear. Would he win? Most certainly. The pride of his nation, the American Republic, depended on it. Chumley felt a cold chill pass through his chest at the thought of the United States. The dark palor of depression passed across his visage, if only briefly, but Chumley pushed down his emotions. His Excellency, Abe Lincoln, had never expressed the deep fear and doubt he must have brooded under during the War Between the States, and Chumley was resolved to live in his mold. By the saints, even if he was divorced from his adopted homeland, he would fight for its honor and its memory. Neither would fade from his thoughts. This battle was not for him, but for his mistress: America.

"Hello, my fine gentleman!" Chumley saluted his opponent, ignoring the gates that opened and clanged shut as he walked into the arena, an abstract and confusing space. The elephant could only vaguely assess its appearance, yet its size was relatively clear. The penumbrae of sickly depression looming above and about him did not penetrate his outer shell of geniality - he could not allow it. "Ah! Sausages!" Chumley said approvingly, and stepped up to a hot dog vendor standing to the side of the gate. Handing over a farthing, or a penny, or a pfeffing, or whatever the blazes this country's coins were, Chumley snatched up a weiner and bit into it, savoring the slight flavor of industrial grease and flies that had gotten mixed into the meaty chum at the packing plant.

"Delicious!" Chumley announced, and finished it off. "You really should try one! Oh, I do believe I didn't catch your name! I am Chumley de Rochfeltingham. You, sir, are?" Chumley focused on his opponent, and tried to hide his wince. "GOOD GRAVY AND MINCEMEAT!" Chumley thought to himself. "He looks like he's had a bit of brain softening! Judging by his miasma of ennui, his granny just kicked it. I should keep a wide berth from this one, for surely he's unstable!"

[Ranger]

Time had come and gone.

Ranger had let his companion precede him into the arena. Chumley had a way about himself that the drow found rather humorous. He was jovial and outgoing. The elephants voice (the fact it had a voice still gave the drow a soft smile) was off-setting at first and as it continued the insane ramblings that came from it were even more bewildering.

Around the elf a silent crowd had gathered. To either side, surrounding the circular cage that would be his first arena of the tournament, were people of every nation, race, and age. Most had their arms crossed before them. A rather morose and grim silence had befallen them. There were no cheers for blood, no cries calling for the fight to begin. From what the elven prophet could tell the Lornius Corporate Challenge was not a tournament that people took lightly, unlike the Cell or Serenti which he had taken part in so long ago.

Seth Dahlios…

The thought was one that had been settling heavily on the drow since the brackets and opponents had been announced. The man had been younger and more brash when the drow had first fought him, so long ago in the Theater of War. The dispute seemed trivial, now that Ranger had grown so much in maturity, but the basis for it had been a vital mistake in his life. The first time the two had met was over words exchanged in the failure known as ‘The Black Hand’.
~*~

"When we first met, I had been in conversation with Hikari; you came in and took a tense situation even further by assuming mutiny. That sort of prejudgment only went further when you assumed I held the same racist and bitter views you did. Let me tell you something Grandpa, I'm considered an adult by my race, and I have no such racism. One who is racist opens himself up to many weaknesses. You should also know I don't break any oath I make willingly. I gave my oath to Azrael that I would stand by the Black Hand. Your assumptions only pushed a tense situation closer to the boiling point. Now that that’s out of the way.”
~*~

At the time the young human, no more then a child had been enough to grate on his mind. Now they seemed to strike home. Ranger knew he had been racist, not only against demons but against all who would ally themselves with the race. It had been the will of his ‘god’ Pelor. But truth had shown the drow that the hatred that came from his false deity was only Pelor’s way of using others to cast out competition. The god had been a demon, bent on using those thinking they were doing the righteous thing to destroy other demons that were growing in power to rival his own.

It had been disgusting. But Ranger had been accepted as a prophet of the Thayne, a devout worker of miracles. Now he was a sage. However, before him was still mistakes of the past, of a life that seemed so long ago. Under the hood of a rather dark cloak he watched his partner give a show for the opponents. If he had to accept the beast as his partner the least he could do was use it’s rather… flamboyant personality to his advantage. After all, how many were used to a walking, talking animal the size of Chumley?

Time to begin this next chapter.

Without further ado the drow stepped up to the steel cage and let his hands slip across its cold surface. It would be the prison that the first round of the tournament would take place in, a prison that would confine the elf with his past. Beneath the hood of his cloak only his eyes and tip of his nose could show. His eyes were sharp, platinum embers lit with anticipation. The door closed and latched behind him, ominous in its finality.

In his right hand a gloved hand held tightly the oak shaft of his monks spade. Luckily for the drow it was not till very recently since he had become known for his weapon of choice. When first he and Seth had met it was dual short-swords that he had taken as his signature arms. Seth looked like much had happened since their last meeting, much indeed.

A light hand touched the shoulder of the elephant. Ranger was tiring of its loud voice and antics. Before him the cold gray eyes of a past adversary waited. The thief should have had another at his side, some woman, but her absense meant little to him. Instead of speaking up Ranger opted to keep silent, give the lone opponent something to ponder over. “Chumley,” he whispered in a soft tone, quiet enough for the elephant alone to detect. “That is the one I was talking about, the male. I do not the woman that should be showing up soon enough and have no desire to deal with her. If you keep her out of my way then this first round will be much easier for the both of us.”

[Dissinger]

(If Ranger has edited his post with a timestamp after this post, understand I gave him permission to fix an error he made in his post.)

So this is what fate throws in my way, a talking elephant and a former enemy... Seth thought as he smirked. Moving about the cage staying away from Chumley and Ranger Nailo he moved about slowly his hand dragging along the cage, once again setting the chimes in motion. The clinking of chains expanding as he thought about how to approach the situation.

"It’s been awhile hasn't it Ranger. Are you still as dead set on destroying all demons as you were when you began your journey?" He said as he waited for the response only a moment, "So much has happened since the Black Hand fell, and the Red Hand in its wake not long afterwards. I can only guess what atrocities you've done, as you can only guess at mine."

He then turned to the elephant, Chumley showed a far more straightforward attitude. Talking of the vendors and trying to be a clown. It was this that made Seth smile, something he hadn't done in awhile. As much as he knew he would have to kill Chumley, he was thankful knowing the elephant wouldn't suffer eternally. He then thought out his next words before he spoke, "A talking Elephant, well wonders never do cease. I would assume your pious friend here would have told you my name, but if you need it, I'll be surely glad to give it. I'm Seth Dahlios. I still have to wonder, what would place an elephant and a cleric to a fanatical god together?"

He then waited as he let the sound of steel upon steel echo through the room as he said, "Well I guess that’s enough idle banter for now. You came for a fight as did I, lets get this started, my partner should be joining us shortly..."

[Nightsangel]

The sun's rays were bright as Sivienna ventured out into the open market place. She had thought that the hotel would at least have a small restaurant. But no...not one place to eat. All she had found was a small gift shop advertising goods being sold that were related to the Lornius Tournament. It seemed that they had small bars of chocolate for sale...but nothing that the night vixen would deem suitable for breakfast. Sighing as she tore her eyes away from the display of plush teddy bears wearing small t-shirts advertising the very tournament she was in. However since the dancer didn't see any actual place to dine for breakfast, she decided that her best bet would be in the small marketplace that was situated near the hotel.

Making her way through the double doors of the hotel, she covered her lilac orbs once the sun's pale rays struck her delicate skin. Still shielding her eyes, the beauty begin to slowly make her way into the busy and crowded street. Sighing as she sniffed her way towards the food carts, she begin to head to a place where she smelled fresh popovers. Smiling as she licked her lips, her eyes fell on a small vendor that was smell plump and freshly made popovers. Taking out her money purse the exotic dancer avoided a rather large woman that was tending to a horse and cart.

Finally reaching the popover vender, she ordered one popover. Paying the man she begin to wander away from the food carts contentedly munching on her yummy breakfast. Enjoying the delicate flavor of the pastry, Sivienna quickly trotted past a cart that was displaying a dazzling array of jewels.

The vendor however, noticing the woman's delicate figure and carefree walk. He grinned before he called out "Hey miss! Yeah you beautiful! Why don't you buy yourself a jewel? With that pretty face and dashing body a gorgeous gem would add to your radiant beauty!"

Sivienna scowled as she licked crumbs slowly off her face. Shaking her head as she spotted the center where her match was taking place, she begin to head there before a hand was placed on her shoulder.

The vendor's greedy green eyes were bright as he cooed "Aww honey your a contender there? Well then that makes things all the better! Why don't you buy a jeweled dagger? A flashy pretty weapon would just match that lovely outfit of yours!"

Sivienna flipped her neat ponytail behind her back as her lilac eyes narrowed at the vendor. Jerking her shoulder away from him she said directly but softly "No sir. I don't need a flashy weapon to prove I’m a good fighter! Now then if you'll excuse me!" Without waiting for a reply from the vendor, Sivienna strode purposefully towards the center. She knew she wouldn't be there directly, but she knew in not more then five minutes she would be next to her partner Seth. Pursing her lips as she kept her eyes focused on the center she thought softly to herself I don't care what Seth says...I don't care that we have two other fighters fighting against us! I’m giving that arrogant Lavinian a piece of my mind the minute I step into the arena!

With that thought in mind she continued her approach to the center, her mind clear, once she had told Seth off for leaving her behind, she'd focus on her opponent. She knew that if she didn't speak her mind her fighting would falter, and despite the fact that she'd love to see Seth struggle, she knew it wouldn't be right of her. After all he had begrudgingly agreed to help her and she couldn't just leave him to do all the work on his own.

[chumley]

Chumley listened to his partner, waving his sail-like ears to catch his whispers better. "A clever plot, my priestly pal," he hoarsely whispered back, rubbing his clubs of hands together. "Your hieratical bearing is belied by your knowledge of the martial arts, dear sir. Although you may have a grasp of combat, I am not without experience. Allow me to explain..." Chumley broke from his partner, plodding cautiously towards his angst-racked opponent. His hair seemed to be prematurely gray, undoubtedly a product of constantly wallowing in a self-pitying puddle of pugnacity. Perhaps he was strained by the effects of some dark madness, reminescent of the late British monarch, the former oppressor of the American states George III. Whatever his disease, be it mental, emotional, or venereal, Chumley knew there was only one way to combat the morose atmosphere surrounding him.

The elephant raised his trunk in the air, spouting a long, sonorous toot, a musical note worthy of Pan's flute. Chumley lowered his nose, and pricked up a wavering sound, echoing over the last decibels of his own trumpet. It grew louder and louder, rocking the pebbles on the ground and causing the chains hanging overhead to shake violently. It was... the sound of bass drums, tamborines, trombones, and dancing feet. It was the sound of music!

"As I was saying," Chumley said, directing his voice back toward his partner. "I have some experience in fighting, myself!" With that, the arena exploded into a flurry of noise, sound and movement. Hundreds of dancers in blackface, dressed in waistcoast and straw hats with canes, leapt through gaps in the fence surrounding them, breaking out into a well-choreographed softshoe routine. Several hanggliders coasted overhead, dropping pianos and steel drums, complete with players, onto the field like apples from an orchard tree. A marching band, resplendent with the finest shining brass instruments and xylophones, burst into the arena, lining up against one side.

Chumley broke out into a dance routine, implausibly well for an elephant, his arms and legs flashing in precision movement. The dancers flanked him at either side, creating a pyramid of flying feet pointed at Seth. Dust into the air around their deft dancing, which pounded the ground in time with a chest-thumping beat. The dancers whipped off their hats, spinning them on one finger. Chumley complimented them by tossing his hat on the ground and bursting into a Mexican hat dance around it as a mariachi band appeared from nowhere, playing on the top wings of a triplane that buzzed around the arena at low altitude, spraying confetti out of its tailfin. Chumley stopped in front of his hat, locking eyes with Seth, his displaced handkerchiefs whirling about him. As the music played to crescendo, his lungs filled and he burst into song.

My fine folks let me tell you a rousing tale,
Not a whale of a tale or a tale of a whale!
It's the story of a barfight in '68
I'll go right in to it, 'cause I know you can't wait!
Johnson was stepping down and needed replacing.
Seymour and Grant were the ones who were a-facing
Each other for the honor of being, by dint
Of winning the election race, our President!

I sat in a saloon on a cool December eve
Ah! 'twas the night I knew, or at least I believed
That Seymour would win, Horatio was my man.
Of the drunkard U.S. Grant, sirs, I was no fan.
So I sat and I waited that fateful night
Happily unawares of the close, coming fright.
A Chinaman blundered in, his face was all red
Grant won! Hip-Hurray! Was all the coolie man said.
Well I look'ed down, a-frowning at my warm beer
And across it, I saw the ripple of a tear.

With blurred eyes and runny nose in my seat I cringed
Till I jumped up, my man's honor impinged
"A lie!" I cried, and punched in the Chinaman's nose
He yelped like a wet dog being whipped with a hose.
Now in California you don't punch a fella
Without knowing that you've made a casus bella
And I guess I didn't cause next thing that I knew
The bartender smacked me up the head with a shoe.

The fight, she was on, and as I fell to the floor
Three men from Cathay a-rushed in through the door
Quick to the aid of their friend who I had knocked down
Some drunk fellows took them back down to Chinatown.
Ole Fat Larry jumped down from atop a dresser
And was felled by the Deputy Sheriff's Winchester.
I jumped to my feet, as I tore up a floorboard
From behind me, around my neck was wrapped a cord
It was Grim Freddie, the tiny town's long-time wag
As there we grappled together, in burst a hag

Who passed as a whore in that dusty trailhead
With her, Freddie had defiled half the town's beds.
She jumped to his aid, a-punching at my gourd
I hit her in the temple with my trusty floorboard
Then I stomped Freddie's foot and bloodied his chin,
Punched him in the stomach and then did it again.
He fell away moaning, so I unveiled my gun
Took aim, and shot a nearby Republican.

It was the bloodiest battle in that old town
But when the blood dried and the fight settled down
I laughed as I guzzled the last of my beer
Nodding to my buddies, we raised up three cheers
And rode into the sunset, a battle well fought
To the Democrats: 1. To Republicans: Naught!

Chumley spun on his heel and turned to the men behind him. "STOP!" He yelled, and they paused in mid-step. "Chumley Time!" he roared, and the band roared into an even more vigorous melody, as Chumley turned into what it was every elephant's dream to become: A dancing machine. There were tears in the eyes of most onlookers as the pachyderm unleashed a fury of choreographed stylings unseen since the Muses walked the Earth. Spinning, twirling, gliding across the ground like it was glass, Chumley's dancing was spirited, yet sublimely calm. He was in his element, and he knew it.

With a final backflip and an explosive last bar from the band, Chumley bowed and, huffing heavily, walked back toward his partner.

"So you see," he managed between breaths, "I know my way around the arena! Leave his partner to me!"

[Ranger]

Somehow the drow could never see himself tiring of his partner’s fluid and melodious diction. It always surprised him. The very ability for the elephant to speak so elegantly was only outdone by the fact it spoke at all. Ranger listened to both his opponent speak and his companion. Seth only dully noted the absence of his partner, and as far as the ex-cleric could tell his old nemesis held a grudge better then any deity ever could. His hair was a prematurely white in coloration, his eyes were a faded gray, and his very choice of clothing supported the down-cast appearance. He was the very effigy of what Ranger had predicted so long ago—though at that time it was out of spite more then foresight.

Before the prophet was an adversary, but at his side was an anomaly.

A smirk rose on the dark-skinned face of the drow, the edges of his lips curling and giving him an air of authority that accented his already noble features. He could not help it. His companion was beginning a strange spell of some form. Around him the call of the elephant was booming like thunder. Accompanying the thundering report was a rain of performers and musicians. As if the talking elephant was not strange enough a hat appeared atop its rather large skull and it burst into song and dance. It was enough to even turn the smirk into a smile on the face of the normally solemn drow.

What situation have the Thayne positioned me in now? Ranger questioned as he took refuge along the edge of the fence, letting the downpour of bands fall and play their instruments in front of him. Dancers separated the elephant from the sole opponent present and all but surrounded the only other entry that Seth’s partner could come in from. The first round of the most important tournament in Althanas and I pair myself with an elephant with aspirations of song and dance, and the means to perform. And to make matters more chaotic my first foe is one of my past, perhaps the strongest of all my former rivals.

Ranger held no desire to belay Chumley in his song and dance; he seemed to be enjoying himself. As long as it could fight the drow did not care what song it sang or how many people its spell filled the arena with. The long, thin ears of the elf were twitching with the cacophony of noise that was surrounding him, drowning his senses as well as any torrent could have. The rather copious noise was enough to mask any sound that the drow himself may have made while moving, and so he assumed beginning of the fighting would be on him to initiate.

To either side he saw only a small, rather precarious distance between the band and the edge of the outwardly animated chain-link fence. It was enough for the dark elf to find his way around though. Ranger assumed a ghost-like stride as he followed the very edge of the colossal cage, his footsteps were as silent and as calculating as only one of elven birth could assume—as needless as it was. He followed the edge, moving with wall-body-weapon tactics in case Seth happened to burst into a surprise attack during the pinnacle of the song.

No attack came though, but instead Ranger found his way to within sight distance of his opponent once again. He allowed his platinum eyes to catch the pathetic facade that once held a vibrant young man before speaking loudly. He could have attacked, opened up the battle without responding to Seth’s malicious tone and malevolent condemnations. Instead he wanted to show he had changed, had become better then what the thief remembered him as. “As a prophet of the Thayne I am no longer a zealous follower of a false god,” he called loudly over the noise. “Now is no time to be toying with past grievances and religious disagreements, nor is this the place to ask for or grant forgiveness on either side. Now is a time for battle…”

With that the drow sprung forward, lunging at his opponent with the broad titanium head of his spade at the forefront of the attack. There was not much power behind the attack, no more then a simple lunge to test the strength, dexterity, and speed of his opponent. After testing each other true combat would be exercised, to begin with it would be nothing more then a simple attack here and a slight counter there. Ranger’s face had gone blank, as most warriors’ faces did. His muscles were fluid like water and yet could become steel at with only a split-second decision. Grace and dexterity allied themselves with drow’s movements, and underlining all was a form of beauty that accompanied the uniquely stylistic dance of combat.

Before all was an unsurpassed serenity over his mind, soul, and body.

[Dissinger]

As soon as Chumley began his song and dance routine Seth was feeling the beginning of a headache. The pachyderm had effectively cut off what little patience he had, for the tom foolery of the elephant was clearly just the act of a rather inept man. Or rather in this case, it was an inept elephant. Knowing now that the elephant wasn't truly a threat he turned his gaze about the arena for his other opponent. While Ranger Nailo was honorable, he wasn't stupid; he was looking for an attack.

Moving through the dancers and about he frowned as he couldn't hear much over the cacophony of music. Closing his eyes surely wouldn't help as his other senses were dulled by the musical dance, and Chumley didn't seem to be wrapping up. Undoing the clasp on his cloak he let it fall to the ground as he quickly pulled Spite and Malice from their holsters, preparing for treachery from the Dark Elf.

He needn't have bothered, for while Ranger was questionable, he certainly wasn't dishonorable. Shouting out in full warning over the sounds of the music, he told Seth everything he needed to know, and a few things he didn't care about. As the errant elephant began to go into what could only be described as "Chumley Time" Seth saw the glint of the weapon. Swiftly moving Malice parried the blow as he spun moving to the side of Nailo before he said finally, the end of the performance leaving dead air throughout the room, "Well now, I never expected to get music with this dance..."

Keeping his eyes on the Pachyderm trying to waltz towards his partner Seth moved swiftly, "However, seeing as how this is a tournament, and I have to win at all costs, hope your partner has some ample dexterity..." With that he jumped back pulling on the ring of a lung popper. Letting the bladed kunai fly he sent it with dazzling grace towards its intended target, the very face of one Chumley de Rochfeltingham.

You want to play the game Ranger, let’s see you save your comrade; I don't feel bound by trivial things such as honor. I'm fighting for my future, what do you fight for chump? He thought bitterly.