Because One Name is Enough: Dra vs. Logan

[Dra]

As in the outside world, within the Dajas Pagoda the young are taught by the old. They are shown how to clean, how to pray, and how to do all the other things required of a monk. Not only that, but they are also taught how to stay safe within their duties. In this way they are told both which rooms and room occupants to avoid. Though this is normally done through word of mouth or possibly with a very large piece of wood, it has only once been done with a sign.

Posted outside of the Warrior's domain, it was designed to warn any monks or combatants about what they would be facing when they entered. Though those who put it up doubted that those who ignored their warning would be hurt (unless they wanted to be), they did acknowledge the very real possibility that they would lose hours of their day and have their sanity tested. It's thus that they bid all who were to enter to read it.

The note was as such:

Before you stands the room of a Warrior in the Dajas Pagoda. Depending on whether you are a member monk caring out his daily rituals or a challenger wishing to test his mettle, you will either find what awaits beyond a test of your composure or a brutal trial in battle. In the former case, we advise you leave as soon as your duties are done (and as quickly as possible). In the latter case, we remind that you may battle to the best of your abilities, without restriction, and that even should you lose, we will be there to revive you.

Even so, however, as a boon to both our own and the challengers, we present this description of the room before you and of the Warrior within (to a lesser degree). Though we doubt not your resolve or abilities, we know well of the things you will face and find it necessary that you know.

- Note: We use the names that the Warrior has provided, for he would have removed the sign otherwise. -

Of the Room

In the South-East section of the Room one will find the Realm of Discarded Furniture. It extends from the eastern sluice to the southern sluice and to five feet from the wall. It contains a maze of discarded and forgotten furniture of various types. In its great weaving mass one can pieces such as small chairs, large chairs, desks, small serving tables, bar stools, couches, and even a simple throne or two; none of which are for sale.

- Warning: Do not, under any circumstance, stop to take a nap in a chair. -

In the North-East section of the Room one will find the Realm of Discarded Metal Bits. It extends from the northern sluice gate to the eastern sluice gate and to ten feet from the wall. It contains an impenetrable mound of discarded metal show pieces from other rooms in the Pagoda and scrapes the ceiling at its highest points. Within it are housed a number of gargoyle heads, sprockets and gears, stylish pieces of webbing, and a number of other things less definite in nature. Oddly enough none of the pieces show no signs of rusting, though the inner ones do have a nice layer of dust about them.

- Warning: Do not, under any circumstance, stop to climb the mound. -

In the North-West section of the Room one will find the Realm of Nothing Much At All. It extends from the northern sluice to the western sluice and to the wall. It contains a large, imposing mound of nothing. It is there that one can stretch out on warm, white-washed stone and stare at the artwork that has collected on its outer walls. If one does, one will notice that the series of work seem to have been drawn from the talents of two different artists. The first—decidedly the more professional of the two—is a lover of oils and the ancient battle scenes that painted with them. Meanwhile, the second—certainly the more disarming of the duo—is a lover of finger paints and whatever he wants to draw at any given time. While passersby often give monumental praise to the more experienced of the two, they still remark to each other that the more immature artist's mother must love him very much and that “it's really heartwarming that they allow those sorts of kids to do such things these days.”

- Warning: Do not, under any circumstance, stop to paint something yourself. -

In the South-West section of the Room one will find the Realm of the Disarming Entrance. It extends from the western sluice gate to the southern sluice gate and to the wall. It contains, depending upon how close one is to the center of the section, either a nice red carpet or nothing at all. The red carpet extends from the simple oak double-doors poking out from the wall to the edge of the fountain in the middle of the room.

- Warning: Do not, under any circumstance, stop to look at the fountain. -

In the Center of the Room one will find the Fountain of Infinite Oils, which gushes exquisite, fragrant oils rather than water. Essentially an exercise in making artificial waterfalls, the great construct consists of six different layers. The first is the largest with a diameter of some fifteen feet. It acts as the platform and collection pool for the rest of the fountain and opens in each of the cardinal directions to a series of draining canals (or sluices). In its center is a raised island some seven feet in diameter. As for the other platforms, they are piled behind the island in a semi-circle that grows from the left to the right as the smaller, three foot by one-and-a-half foot platforms pile on one another. Each is a different color and thus tints the oils that flow down from the pipe on the top platform.

- Warning: Do not, under any circumstance, stop to anoint yourself with the oils. -

Of the Occupant

His name is Dra and there is no more explanation of him than there is of the Heavens. Do not mistake this wording, however, for his providence; he is not so. Consider him a dullard if you must, or more prudently a madman, but in no case consider him harmless as a foe. His wiles are many, his wits far less, and his movement that of the oils within his chamber, though possibly more haphazardly so.

In proceeding inward, we suggest you keep your introductions short. Though he will not attack you until either you seem prepared or initiate it yourself, you do not wish to prolong the proceedings. If he finds you friend an you are conscious after your battle, he may take many an hour from you, even as we mend your wounds.

Good Luck.

Of course, in the face of such a warning one is left to wonder if the occupant of the room even cares about his supposed reputation. Does it affect him negatively or is it a boon to him? Oddly enough, that's an easy thing to divine. After all, what else could be inferred from his present position, laying on top of the oaken doors within his domain? It wasn't a fluke that he could hear the steps from the hallway outside.

Anyway, as he sat on top of his door, which he decided had really nice wood, he didn't even bother to hum. If his opponent was going to come, which he probably would in the next couple minutes, he wasn't going to give him any clue as to his position. Not only did he want to see him walk around confused for a bit, but he also wanted to see him freaked when he jumped down. Even if he was only wearing simple plain clothes, it would still be rather disturbing—especially with his Squig around.

[Logan]

“Uh…sir,” the scrawny man in a grey pinstriped suit stumbled into the Vice commander’s office. He had been looking over some plans that he had masterminded with the leader of the power group, Max Dirks, but he never turned away someone within the organization no matter how high or low within the ranks they may have been. He motioned for the man to take the seat in front of his desk as he responded, “Have a seat, Silvio. You know I always have time for a visit from a DiMarco.” Silvio smiled as he bowed his head just a little in a sign of respect for the psion as he slipped into the seat Logan had pointed to.

The DiMarco’s were one of the five families that filled out the majority of the ranks of the Vice division known as Plebian. All five families had been very dedicated and committed to furthering the cause of Vice, and as such, in serving the leadership Maxwell Dirks had set in place, but the DiMarco’s were one of the most loyal. “Well, sir, as per your previous request my brother and I have been out observing and listening for rumors of special talents and abilities,” Silvio said as Logan rubbed his chin and nodded, “well, we may have found someone. Joshua Cronen.”

Logan eyed Silvio cautiously, “Joshua Cronen, hmm. And what exactly about Mr. Cronen has caught the attention of the DiMarco brothers?” The suit-clad man rose from his seat and placed a newspaper upon the desk. “He killed Shadar in the Pagoda,” Silvio continued, “and he has yet to lose a Pagoda battle.” The psion’s eyes grew wide as he reached down and grabbed the newspaper reading over the article quickly.

“Six battles. No defeats. I’d say you shall be rewarded if this Joshua Cronen should find reason to join our ranks, Mr. DiMarco,” the psion lowered the paper to his desk as he reached out his hand. Silvio DiMarco extending his and the two shook before the scrawny man in the suit left the office without another word. Logan’s hands clasped together as he began to form a new plan in his mind.

=========================================

Logan entered the Dajas Pagoda and immediately made his way to the registration desk. Throwing some gold onto the table he grabbed the parchment and quill from another warrior and wrote his name down in his stead. The registration clerk looked up from her glasses and pointed at the stairs, “Mister umm…McCloud is it? Well, you are to face Dra in the room up those stairs.” The psion smiled as he popped his knuckles. He’d have to dispatch this Dra character before getting his shot at Joshua, and there was little time to waste. Taking off towards the stairs the warrior he’d snatched the parchment from yelled out after him, “You’re lucky you aren’t facing me. Bastard!!!”

The psion took no further steps before turning around and glaring intensely at the warrior. Within a moment the warrior was on his knees grabbing his head with his hands and Logan was up the stairs and standing before the door to the room. Entering Logan turned his head to glance at the environment. “Ahh, good, some chairs I can relax in,” he spoke aloud to only himself. Resting himself upon one of the twenty or so wooden chairs with cushions in the big heap the psion sighed relaxedly. He could really care less about his opponent, but he certainly was glad the arena had some chairs.

[Dra]

As Dra lay upon the door, thinking of things inconsequential to all, his opponent entered below him. The man did not wait and the man did not worry. There was no trepidation in his movement, no thought that he was extending himself beyond his due. It seemed that he owned all that he came in contact with or, at least, did not care enough about boundaries to be concerned otherwise. This perturbed the Warrior who he would be fighting.

In his time as a fighter in the Dajas Pagoda, the man had experienced a range of opponents. Some had stopped to greet him and conducted their matches in a very gracious manner. Others had woken him up from naps or taken him away from his painting so that they could share blood. Even still a couple more hadn't even bothered to make sure they had the right guy before they started attacking. It was this newest of opponents though, the one who totally ignored even the possibility of his existence, that really irked him in a bad place.

He needed to do something about it.

Hefting himself from the top of the door, he landed on the ground with an inelegant grunt. Not wasting a moment's thought or annoyance, he began a slow walk forward. As he went, his Squiggle descended from his former hiding spot to hover above shoulder. A dark little thing, made of animated bits of ink, it bobbed in the air without a care in the world. The same, however, was not true for its master.

Though he normally would have been hospitable, if not outright genial, to visitors, he hated the total lack of concern that the man before him projected. Unlike in other situations where his opponents at least acknowledged his position before ignoring him, his opponent now didn't even bother with that. It didn't matter what he was, what he could be, or even what he could do to him. He was inconsequential. Simply the thought of being in such a position summoned flames unbidden to his mind.

And they burned.

Stopping in front of the man, who continued to rest comfortably in the chair largely unaware of him, he said, "You could at least acknowledge that I'm here before you go about sitting in my chairs. It's only some common courtesy that you could extend as a challenger."

As he did so, he readied to defend himself should the man continue to act as abruptly as he had thus far. Images of flames, vague but for their intensity, ushered through his mind, with little else bothering join it.

[Logan]

Stretching gingerly as he opened his eyes, the psion yawned exaggeratedly. “AAaaaahhh. Yeah, that feels good. That really was a nice quick nap,” he spoke to the air once more completely oblivious to the character that had meandered his way so intently towards him. It was at the sound of his voice that Logan turned his head to meet eye to eye with the one and only Dra.

“Common courtesy,” the psion questioned as he began to chuckle. Is this guy for real? The psion chuckled again, but only to himself. “Well, sir, in order to extend common courtesy some must be given,“ he was playing with the one before him in an attempt to see if he’d bite, “I mean, was I not the one napping and so rudely interrupted? Courtesy, the word you so delicately used, is a two way street, my man. Unfortunately, you tried to turn it into a one way street where all courtesies should be extended to you, but none to any others.”

Popping his knuckles as he rose from the chair he had been relaxing in, “I suppose I could have come in and addressed you as ‘The Great and Illustrious Warrior of the Renowned Institution of the Dajas Pagoda’, but then, you know, I’d be lying. You think you are some great warrior because you are in a position of respect, but the only reason the position commands respect is because of the pioneers who came before you!” He felt his own rage building as he focused intensely upon his opponent.

“Until you prove to me that you are worthy of my respect, you better as hell not try and command me to give it to you,” the psion unsheathed his swords as he stood stoic and unwaivering. ”Now, come get some, punk,” he shouted telepathically as he raised one of his hands into the air and motioned for Dra to approach and attack. The battles of the mind and of wits had begun, and as of that moment the psion had the better of the warrior, although his focus wasn't on Dra, it was on the invisible barrier he'd created around himself.

[Dra]

Sorry about the lateness and the crappiness, but I couldn't remember the fighting type (Open, Closed, Hybrid) and didn't feel like looking it up while the ability to write was still with me.

The thoughts came as easily as they ever did. Pouring through his mind like water from an opened sluice gate, they had just about the same ability to stay in one place and actually matter. Even so, though they would not hold even as much as a bag in the wind, they came.

Did I ask to be called the Great and Illustrious? Do I care if he regards me as the best or the worst of the bunch here, or there, or anywhere? No, I simply asked for some courtesy. Regardless of what he thinks of me or my Pagoda-kin, he should recognize that I am a person with things and that those things should be respected. Not only that, but the space in which I keep my things and also me, as their owner, should be given some decent regard. But no, he just has to be angry and start us off fighting right away. Well fine then, I will.

Raising his left hand about to his shoulder, he used it to wave his familiar forward. Though made purely of ink with no visible means of pushing itself, it still managed to. Resembling a flowing ribbon as it did, it was plain to see that even if it turned out to be as soft as a downy pillow, the head of the creature still at least looked sharp. That possible deadliness, however, wouldn't be what made meeting it painful. No, its owner had something else in mind.

Shooting a small bit of flame from his palm, he used it to set the ink-entity on fire even as it continued towards its target. Whether that would be enough, the man didn't know. Even if it didn't, however, he wasn't about to give up.

The man had been rude.

[Logan]

Remaining almost completely focused on the invisible barrier he’d created around him Logan barely noticed the ink blob, and even less so did he worry about it. He’d seen plenty of strange and liquid familiars in his time on Althanas, and this snot bubble was no exception. This was, however, the first time the psion had to defend against a flaming one. That was, however, the almost accidentally perfect thing about it. The ink blob neared his invisible barrier and then smacked right into it, or at least, the creature should have.

The invisible barrier was Logan’s most effective defense against most attacks from his opponents, but he rarely used it. Defense was not something the psion enjoyed. On the contrary, he enjoyed the sheer pleasure of his swords ripping through the flesh and cleaving the bones of his opponents. He found excitement in the feeling of slicing his weapons into his opponent’s various organs and limbs. Perhaps that’s what drove his next move and caused him to change his focus from the barrier to his most impressive offensive psionic power.

Closing his eyes quickly, the psion focused all his mental energy into an outward psionic push. Nothing could really protect itself from the push, as long as it had any sort of mind. The creature was the only probable issue with his attack, but then again, it was a blessing in disguise. Pushing outward, the psion felt his mental energy shoot from his body toward Dra at an intense speed. It wasn’t like a single man pushing. It was like three Logan’s, and it was also outward in a radius, so unless Dra managed to run away at a speed faster than light, he’d feel the effects. The blob was another story, of course.

[Dra]

The Squiggle continued as it was ought to, a weapon flying towards its target. Though it at first smacked into the invisible barrier, which did little more than addle the beast for a moment, it still continued forward regardless of it. Ramming its fiery form into the transparent shield over and over again much like a fly into a kitchen window, it eventually found its opening.

As soon as the opposing psychic had dropped his shield, the little familiar shot towards its target. Though it moved quickly and with purpose, it soon found out why many others would be wary of an opponent who drops their own defense. Mere moments after the fiery missile began its attack it and all that was around it was sent flying backward. The telekinetic push that echoed forth from the moody psychic disrupted all that it came in contact with.

When it touched the tables that surrounded the man, they were toppled. When it came into contact with their accompanying chairs, they went flying. Miniature waves appeared in the flowing oils when the force flowed over them. On meeting the inky familiar however, the push did little more than knock it back a couple inches. Though it also slightly disrupted the flames that consumed the familiar, it did not stop it from continuing the assault. Barreling back towards its target, it abandoned any inclination to save its master. Even if it could do something with enough time, it hadn't nearly enough now. Anyway, defeating the opponent would be a quicker method of ending the fight.

Meanwhile, the psychic's attack reached its living target. Slamming into Dra like three reasonable well-built men, it sent him flying backward five feet before causing him to land rather painfully on his back. An unpleasant experience to say the least, it elicited an aching, breathless cry. That wasn't all however. Even disregarding the bruise-worthy damage that the initial assault had caused on chest and arms, the drop had caused a shocking impact in his back. Even with all that though, he decided that he still needed to persist.

Thus, he dragged himself up from the ground and started a slow walk towards his opponent. While he could have pulled off a gimp jog, he wasn't about to be caught off guard without good footing. Not only that, but he also wanted to give his familiar a chance to hit first.

[Logan]

The effectiveness of his barrier was exactly what Logan hoped for as the little ink blob that resembled more of a snot bubble than ink rammed full force into it not just once but multiple times. As he lowered the invisible force field around him, the familiar shot at the psion with a speed he'd not truly expected. It was all for not as the Mind Push he'd mustered up sent the familiar back a few inches, which was all Logan needed. His eyes darted from Dra to the familiar; his real opponent was on his ass in a heap of bruises and scrapes.

The psion blades slipped around his back and slid with a shing sound into their sheathes as he slid one leg behind the other and bent his knees slightly. To any who knew, it would look like a martial arts maneuver, but it was something entirely different. As the flaming familiar neared he slipped his right hand around his side, out of the vision of Dra, and grabbed the leg of the one of the chairs on the ground. At the very last moment the psion swung his right with all his might, sending the chair in the direction of the familiar as his body leaned down to where the chair was.

Rolling to his right, he quickly unsheathed his swords and made a quick dash for Dra. He wouldn't waste more time with the deflected familiar, at least not at the moment. His right sword swung down at an arc aimed to slice across Dra's face while his left aimed for a slice that would cross from the opposite side but much lower where Dra's abdomen was. Even if they missed, the effectiveness of the attack was the lack of counterattack moves.

The psion's eyes stared a line straight through Dra. He no longer cared who this bastard was; he didn't want to know either. Logan was sick of dealing with people who thought they were some tough guy or slick shit because they had defeated someone at some point. Unlike most of them, the psion was no one hit wonder.

[Dra]

As he walked Dra watched his familiar assault his obviously psychic opponent. Using the same tactics as it always did, the flaming inky familiar made no attempt to hide the fact that it was trying to hurt its target. In part this was meant to intimidate lesser opponents and cause them to drop their guard, but mainly it was just a by-product of its master's use of it as a diversionary tactic. In the fight against Logan though, both purposes of the attack failed in their entirety.

Having seen the fiery familiar coming his way for a good time, the man simply responded by throwing a steel chair at the squiggly mass. Caught underneath the chair's assault and unable to get around it in time, it was carried by the force of the blow to wherever the piece of furniture landed. Once that finally came to a rest, or at least a slow enough speed to escape from, the familiar pulled itself from the material and flew back at the opponent.

Meanwhile, the man that threw the chair changed his target to the familiar's master. Rushing forward with blades drawn, he proved an imposing figure to the fire wielder's disheveled mind. In fact, the man was just the right amount of intimidating to temporarily relieve the Warrior of his stupor.

Thereby enabled, the man quickly formulated a plan. Though hardly original, for it was his backup whenever his familiar failed to keep his opponent busy, he thought that it would still be rather effective given his opponent's concentration on the physical. Keeping his hands to his side so that he wouldn't seem that much of a sudden threat, he turned his palms toward his opponent. Then, concentrating on things such as what would happen to a bag filled with shit in the hands of a teenager or a daycare under the watchful supervision of a fire elemental, he loosed a concussively powerful, but fire deficient blast.

Slightly winding, he hoped it would jar his opponent long enough for his Squig to return. Even if it didn't though, he was still quite willing to fall back down.