Breaker vs Cesarino: Santeria

[Breaker]

"Demoted."

Weeks after being stripped of his rank, the memory still stung.

Lodged like a poisonous barb in the back of his skull, it drove him to train harder than ever. Breaker had battled for months as a Pagoda Warrior before finally achieving the rank of Master in a storm of sweat and blood. But circumstance had kept him away from his duties for too long, and before he could enjoy the new position, found himself back where he started.

A warrior again. At one time he felt honoured to be a Hierarch of the fabled Dajas Pagoda. Now he felt robbed. His victory against Shadar amounted to nothing tangible. But he had learned something valuable from that fight. The half elf had pulled no punches, used every dirty trick in the book in pursuit of victory. Josh came away from that battle with the win, and a new perspective on his job. The duels no longer represented an honourable sporting event. Instead, he saw the reality of the situation. He was in a fight to the death. Each would be a ritualistic sacrifice of the challenger.

Breaker sat on his island, alone except for the waking birds in the trees. A dense jungle dominated the centre of the land mass, vines and leaves shining sickly green in the post-dawn sunlight. Waves lapped the sandy shore in a gentle caress, soft sounds completing the serene morning. Josh felt his jaw clench and forcibly relaxed it. This new arena mocked him, its peaceful atmosphere opposing the slow burning rage that drove him. At a glance he looked calm enough; reclined against a broad tree trunk, dressed simply in black pants and an army green wife beater. The enchanted breaker boots adorned his feet, looking like any ordinary black leather shoes. Only a trained observer would notice the metallic sheen of the boots, and the heavy clasps that fastened them. It would take as much perception to see the deadly determination in the warrior's eyes.

As the sun crawled higher over the distant island of Scara Brae Breaker became glad he had seated himself in the shade. His position just inside the tree line served a dual purpose; he avoided the intense heat and remained virtually invisible from the beach. The challenger would arrive soon. He had scheduled the battle in a vindictive mood, preying on the possibility that his opponent would not be a morning person.

"Jared Cesarino. You've wasted your money today."

An enchanted boat would deliver Cesarino if the Lavinyan could not find his own way to the island. The Pagoda Council offered Josh a ship and crew to chauffer his challengers but he declined. A simple wooden rowboat, he requested, enchanted to travel between Scara Brae and his own little island. It was a slow ride. Let the challengers sweat it out, all alone in the ocean. Let agoraphobia overwhelm their senses. It would be appropriate to feel fear en route to his arena. Breaker would settle for nothing less than destroying his opponent in hot blood.

"Break their hearts, break their spirits, break their bodies. The first sacrifice to the Pagoda Council is about to begin. Before long I'll dye the sand red with the blood of would be warriors."

[Lavinian Ambition]

Jared yawned as he stretched, being carried along in the waves. He only barely registered what time of day it was, as he was seldom used to being up at such an hour. Scratching idly behind his head he shook his head, all the while riding in the small rowboat whose oars moved on their own. He was more than certain that there was some symbolism here, probably related to entering the afterlife, but he was just too damn tired to care. The Pagoda seemed filled with people who preferred to use dramatics to entertain their esteemed guests.

The notice for him to appear at the crack of dawn this morning had been met with a question about rescheduling later. However, it was then he was politely told in no uncertain terms, that the Pagoda didn't give a rat's ass about the fights, only the results. If he didn't show up, he had basically thrown his money away, and he could have used it to much better effect than that. It still nagged him the thought of paying for a fight, especially when the legendary Citadel near Radasanth was so blatantly available, for the low price of absolutely free.

However, where the Citadel carried raw quantity, he wanted quality. It wasn't enough to be able to fight and fight and fight; he wanted the fight he was to undergo to matter. While all who knew him knew of his rather pacifistic motives, none could have even ventured a guess at the reason Jared now sat in a wooden rowboat, going towards the Pagoda Warrior Joshua Cronen. He had heard the man was a master of close quarters combat, and that intrigued Jared enough that when the man picked up Jared's request for a fight, he didn't regret it.

However, that was all he knew. He didn't care about the gory details; he didn't care about all that. He was more than certain he was going to get beaten up, torn to pieces, and possibly killed for the first time today. That prospect elicited a small amount of fear, enough to increase the rhythm of his heart as it thudded against his chest in the faux anticipation that had overtaken him. This was the reason he had come looking for a fight, it was these feelings, which relished combat, and he had to know. Was this him, or was this something far more sinister.

He wasn't sure if he could get the danger level high enough to draw out these emotions. All he knew, was when he stood over the dead forms of the men who had attempted to avenge Lord Roland of Radasanth, he had felt a disgusting and twisted pleasure. Their cries of pain sang in the empty void he had felt his entire life, and he wasn't sure why. It disturbed him, even as he tried to bury himself in the romance that had blossomed between him and the ninja Kyosku Tetsoma. Even as he tried to bury himself in the task of rebuilding the Bandit Brotherhood, he could not escape the nagging doubt in his own moral code.

Even as he realized how weak he truly was, and how far he had to go.

The boat touched upon the far shore as Jared remained still in the boat. He almost had not registered the trip in his mind as he looked out on the horizon, feeling the eyes of someone upon him. He didn't bother acknowledging the presence as he stretched for the morning again and got up. He took off his satchel as he tossed it with a resolute thud in the boat. The boat remained on the shore, almost inviting him to go back, to escape the island he had come to.

Jared was dressed in his usual button up shirt, the scar over his eye was still a bit red not having fully healed, covered by a thin veil of red hair. His grey eyes where tiredly half open as he took in his surroundings, even as the hide pants were barrages by a light wind. His boots sank into the sand with a crunch, as he turned about slowly to look at the man who would kill him more than likely. His belt of twin daggers was perched upon his hips, waiting for a chance to unleash their payload upon the flesh of his opponents.

Not that he cared much about the outcome. His eyes slowly took in the arena as the dark black of the night’s sky slowly faded into the blue he was more accustomed to waking up to. A jungle covered the forest, and his eyes could make more than a few pathways that would lead a person into that jungle, but not guarantee their exit. As he looked down at the beach he looked up at Joshua as he spoke plainly, "We fighting on the sand? I hope not, kinda hate sand in my boots."

[Breaker]

A floating speck appeared in the distance, and with each wave that lapped the shore it grew in size and detail. Soon Breaker could see the boat clearly. He focused on his breathing, allowing a void of calm confidence to build within him. All emotion drained from his mind, leaving him level-headed and ready to fight. As he meditated his senses sharpened and the world became more real. He heard the whispers of wind in the trees, the flutter of a bird flying from one perch to the next. He could see ants on the beach, working tirelessly to move individual grains of sand. The smells of nature meshed in bittersweet fashion. The rank odour of a rotting stomp to his left clashed with the pleasant aroma of the flowery bush he had concealed himself behind. The overwhelming assault of new sensory experience distracted him until the boat landed. The harsh scraping of wood on wet sand brought him back to reality.

Like a panther he rose from his hiding place. Surefooted steps carried him down one of the many overgrown paths that scrawled across his island like the strands of a long forgotten spider web. As he stepped out of the tree line the sun struck him, building beads of sweat on the back of his neck. The sudden heat gave him an itch, but he resisted the urge to scratch at the coarse stubble on his chin. Instead he made a quick study of his opponent.

"Great... they sent me a kid."

The one thing the Pagoda had done reliably in the past was deliver competent opponents. Josh had won no easy victories in his time as a warrior. Examining the red haired boy, he felt this might be his first. The Lavinyan looked ready for a day at the market, not a battle. A button down shirt and leather pants, weapons displayed for all to see. The twin steel daggers screamed a message that Josh read loud and clear. Look at me, I've got knives! Better not mess with this tough guy. Breaker's own weapons were sheathed on the back of his belt, out of sight until he deemed them necessary.

A lump of disappointment knotted his throat, but he dry-swallowed steadfastly. A worth opponent would have helped his cause. Slaughtering a trained knight would show the Pagoda council he meant business.

"What will I prove by killing this skinny kid? That I'm a bully?"

He decided at that moment to let Jared determine his own fate. If the boy had come to the island with an earnest desire to learn, Josh would teach him. A harsh lesson no doubt, but valuable just the same. On the other hand, if the Lavinyan arrived in arrogance hoping for a quick rise to stardom, Breaker would do his work, and a cleanup crew would arrive shortly to put Cesarino back together.

"It's up to you, kid. But I'm through with handing amateurs lessons on a silver platter. If you're here to learn you better be ready to work, and you better show me."

Breaker moved down the beach, walking with a deliberate slowness. Men of his musculature often moved slowly, and his speech matched his pace as he answered the challenger's question.

"Sand in your shoes is the least of your worries, Jared."

No special inflection on any of the words. His voice merely sounded low and dangerous. Still, the hint existed for the boy to catch. About four yards from the Lavinyan, Josh's next step turned into a short kick. His boot struck the ground, sending up a swarm of grit aimed at Cesarino's face. Against a more impressive opponent he would have followed up with a deadly technique. Instead he merely stood, watching, gauging the younger man's reaction.

What happened next would determine whether Jared became a student, or a sacrifice.

[Lavinian Ambition]

Jared watched as the man looked him over. Jared couldn't help but feel inadequate under the gaze, he was no warrior. He wore his daggers up in front, he stood in a relaxed posture, and he even remained silent as he eyed the man across from him. It was unnerving to say the least, when he looked into Joshua Cronen's eyes, he didn't see the Hazel color, he saw death. Death was in those eyes, waiting and watching for the opportunity to claim his soul.

Had he not been searching for the angel of mercy, surely it would have scared him. As it was he felt a cold trace of fear run down his spine as the man spoke of sand in his boots being the least of his worries. Kicking up sand into the thief's eyes he instinctively turned his head away and put a hand up to shield his eyes from errant grains of sand. As he did so he realized he had left himself wide open, and braced himself for the brutal attack to follow. When none came he shook his glove covered hand to free it of the more moist granules of sand.

He looked at his opponent as if in disbelief. Finally he found his voice and spoke plainly, figuring honesty would get him farther than hoping for his wish, "I left my self open, and you didn't attack. I understand, you must get tired of just relentlessly beating on people, but that’s exactly why I came here. No bones about it Joshua, I am no warrior. I signed up to find something out about myself, and I need you to put your all into this fight, even if I don't last two seconds. Otherwise I've wasted my money, and your time. I will be guilty of the first, but I refuse to be the second."

Pulling the daggers his hands began to twirl them in a practiced maneuver, and already he could feel that void in his chest trying to suck him in, draw him back from the fight. He resisted the urges for now, knowing that he was studying this void in him, not succumbing to it. He came close in the travesty that had been the Conquest Trials. Already at the thought of them a hot anger washed over him as it was bolstered by the otherworldly anger of the void within him. It was all he could do not to launch himself at Joshua in a futile attack born of this anger, which already threatened to overcome him.

Jared wasn't an angry person though...

...so where did this deep seated anger come from?

The answer he knew was lurking in the depths of his mind, and he wasn't sure he liked it. He could only hope to see what would come of this as Joshua either took his request to heart, or mocked him and kept the battle at such a trivial stage.

[Breaker]

"Pathetic."

The Lavinyan recoiled like a frightened schoolgirl, turning his head away, a frail hand thrown up in front of his face. The action reminded Josh of a bad actress pretending to feel faint. In any other situation it would have been comical. But as the sun glared down on them Jared's unworthy display stoked his anger. The boy should have moved, repositioned himself somehow, perhaps rolled away. Instead he all but turned his back. Josh felt the urge to spit. He could have killed the boy a dozen different ways in that instant, and regretted not doing so more and more by the second.

Breaker listened to the thief's monologue. Quirked an eyebrow in confusion. "You came here to get beat up? Shit kid, you should have saved your money. Find a big mean guy in a bar somewhere and tell him you fucked his mother. That'll get your bones broken, and at no extra cost." He wondered if Mrs. Cesarino realized her son had Houdinied himself from the knots of her apron strings.

Breaker considered the situation. The Pagoda Council must be trying to spite him. In the past, his challengers had each brought something unique to the arena. A mage, an assassin, a vampire, a tribal. Seasoned fighters all. The Lavinyan was a gift-wrapped victory by comparison. "I didn't know Ai'Bron monks could be this sadistic. Oh well. They're the ones who write the cheques, so to speak. If they want a human sacrifice, that's what they'll get." As Jared spun his daggers, Josh advanced once more. He was going to tear the child limb from limb.

As he took the first step Josh reached behind his back with both hands. Unsheathed his bayonet and held it in a hammer grip. The sun glinted off the dagger, its razor sharp blade reflecting the ocean's deep blue. As he closed the distance between them he raised the weapon, as if preparing for a lethal slash. Danger true as the knife itself glinted from hazel eyes that focused on Jared's throat.

"What did you come here to find out about yourself Cesarino? How quickly you bleed to death?" A hollow mirth embodied his tone. He licked his lips.

Just outside of dagger range, Breaker's left arm shot out. The bayonet held high, the bloodthirsty glare, and the mocking question had all been misdirection. He had kept his nunchaku folded and concealed behind the thick muscles of his forearm. Now he used the whippy weapon's surprising range. It struck like a viper, first at one of Jared's wrists, then the other. Certainly Breaker intended to kill the boy, but a cracked radius or two might serve to teach him a lesson first.

"Those things are weapons, not toys. So quit playing with them."

[Lavinian Ambition]

Jared got his wish as the man pulled a long slender knife from somewhere he had not noticed before. As he brought the knife down in an effort to stab into his ribcage, probably trying to disrupt the blood flows of his heart. His blow could have even punctured a lung such was its course. Jared however, went back into his normal defensive stance as the man's knife came down. He asked Jared for his reasons, his motivations. Jared ignored the question until their knives locked and he deflected the blade in a practiced parry.

"I want to find out exactly what I am."

He, however, didn't take into account that it was a feint. Still quite a novice on the cloak and dagger routine, when a nunchaku flipped out, it struck the wrist sending pain flaring up his arm. It was all he could do to hold onto his knife as the blunt weapon continued to flick again, going for his other wrist. Jared pulled his wrist back as he gritted his teeth hissing in pain. His opponent was toying with him, playing a game of cat and mouse. Jared couldn't blame him, he was obviously the strong opponent here. However, it sent forth a wave of heat from his chest as the empty anger began to flare.

What is it?

He was however shocked when, instead of another wave of anger, he got a response;

Don't just stand there, he overextended, gut him sternum to crotch!

Jared immediately floundered back as he muttered, "What the hell!" Jared's footing was already unsure as he was on the sand. The act of trying to move quickly backward only netted him and end result of land ass first onto the sand. Looking up at Cronen he felt a cold fear grip his chest tightly as he thought he had heard a voice. It was cold, yet practical. It spoke much like his teachers, encouraging his actions, giving him advice. However, the advice was far crueler than what he was used to.

Realizing he was in trouble he dropped the blade in his now hurt wrist before he grabbed a handful of sand and sent it for Cronen's face in an effort to get his feet under him again. If he could manage that, the rest of this would be bearable. While he figured out what the hell that voice was. It wasn't him, and he had a sinking feeling he knew who's it was, but why he was hearing it, was another issue entirely. Hissing slightly in pain as his bruised wrist was flaring in protest he balanced on his good hand as he swung his feet back underneath himself.

[Breaker]

Breaker's attack forced his opponent to flee, blundering backwards and stumbling through the uneven ground. Sand spat from beneath him as he hit the dirt. A downed opponent to Josh was like a fly caught in a spider's web. A bleeding salmon in a shark tank. He darted forward but had to detour around the handful of grit Jared flung from his seated position. The copycat tactic renewed his contempt for this lamb the Pagoda had sent him. "I'd give up the breaker boots before I let a kid catch me with one of my own dirty tricks."

The warrior squinted as he dodged left. Most of the sand missed him completely, with a few grains glancing off his face and settling in his hair. Unfazed, his change in momentum had still given Cesarino enough time to scramble to his feet. But Josh's motion never ceased. Sand churned beneath his black boots and sweat flicked from his hair as he turned a quick corner, approaching the boy from a cunning angle. Jared would have to move sharply to get his remaining blade between them as Josh rushed his unarmed side.

Breaker's heightened hearing picked out the boy's racing heartbeat above the gentle lapping of the ocean. The rapid thump-thump reached his ears so clearly he could have struck the boy blindfolded. His squinted eyes focused on the boy's midsection though, and again he lashed out with the nunchaku. The exotic weapon flicked like a wet towel, aiming a crushing blow for the floating ribs on Jared's side.

Despite his anger, Josh knew he would never be a person who enjoyed beating on children. But still the rage pressed him onwards, urging him to finish the battle so he could forget that Jared Cesarino ever arrived on his island.

"Just another day at the office. Can't wait to punch my card and go home."

[Lavinian Ambition]

Jared found his footing, even as Cronen with no effort came about the sand. He gritted his teeth before he heard the voice, distant and almost mocking him. He ignored it as He tried to clock the blow only to get his dagger torn from his grasp rather painfully, and the nunchaku struck his already bruised ribs. A hiss of pain escaped Jared's lips as he was defenseless, with no weapons to speak of. Had Cronen wanted him dead now would have been the chance.

I tell you, goes to show some things only get worse with time...

Would you shut the living fuck up! Jared railed at the voice as he tired a feeble punch at the man's face.

Lots of anger for a pacifist, The retort seemed almost amused at the words as Jared tried to get some distance between him and his opponent. The voice in his head was maddeningly annoying. He wished it gone, dead, and departed from his mind, as he tried to calm himself down. His temper flared defensively at the abusive words. If he had to endure this for the rest of his life, he had to apologize to Kyo before he committed suicide. He doubt he could have lasted a week with such a bitter and morbid voice flitting from the dark recesses of his mind.

From the sounds of things, you won't last ten minutes, The voice retorted. Jared let out a mental sigh as he took stock of the situation; Cronen was standing over his twin daggers. He was utterly defenseless. How he had gotten to such a state, he was more than certain Darith would have pounded into his head at some point or another. All that was left was the surrender of Jared, or Cronen crowning him with those club-like sticks. A good solid hit with those would probably do the job, if he felt nice, if not, Jared was in for a painful lesson.

And to think, I paid a hundred gold to listen to this crap... Jared mused.

You could have just kept it, I'd have kicked your ass for free... The voice offered.

Just shut up... Jared mused.

[Breaker]

The nunchaku thudded off Cesarino's midsection, the fleshy sound of a living drum. Breaker had expected the blow to drop his opponent. In fact, he was so surprised Jared didn't collapse coughing up blood that he forgot to evade the boy's lacklustre punch. It struck his nose dead on, jarred his head a little.

"Kid's tougher than he looks," he thought. Blinked his eyes clear and felt a little blood trickle down his upper lip, seeping from bristle to bristle. "Either that or I need to practice more with the chucks." He scrunched his nose and wiggled it once. "Not broken. That boy needs to put his shoulders into the punch." Cesarino danced away, light on his feet but unarmed. "Where are you going baby J? You left your toys behind."

The fallen daggers actually looked drab on the sparkling sand. The nunchaku spun once in Josh's left hand, folding itself around his finger. Before it could finish a second circle he slapped it into its sheath. His right foot stepped onto one of Jared's daggers, static friction building in the bottom of his boot. He lifted the foot with uncanny flexibility for a man so large, passed the clinging dagger to his free hand. A curtain of sand fell from the boot as he gripped the steel hilt. The sun had made the sand hot as yesterday's coals, and the dagger felt cool by comparison to the bottom of his black boot. As if the thief's hands had lent it no warmth.

To Cronen's sharp eyes, the boy looked conflicted. Anger roared from his posture but a shadow of fear haunted his eyes. For a moment Jared reminded Josh of a younger version of himself. Not afraid to die, but perhaps afraid to kill. Breaker remembered the fear of taking life. A foolish notion left over from his teenage years. The half elf Shadar had decimated that reluctance when he killed Josh in a previous Pagoda duel. The warrior had learned that a man who won't fight to the death is a man who can be defeated.

"Maybe Cesarino needs the same lesson Shadar taught me." The steel dagger swivelled to a throwing position, pinched between his thumb and forefinger. "Besides, you don't need morals when the damn Ai'Bron monks can heal whatever ails you." His arm moved in a blur, up and back then snapped forwards. "They sent him here on a serving tray; I'll send him back carved and quartered."

The dagger flashed like silver chain lightning, lethal blade pin wheeling towards Jared's midsection. Either because of the blood leaking down the back of his throat or the memory of his demotion, Breaker aimed for the target's stomach rather than his chest. A painful place to take a knife. The sacrifice's blood would stain the sand before the monks arrived to retrieve their offering.

[Lavinian Ambition]

Jared meanwhile was trying to put on a courageous front as he heard the voice insist he was stupid. It had to do with the fact that his weapons had been left with the more dangerous opponent, and he was unarmed, and without a prayer. Jared would have of course taken the criticism, had this voice not been in his damn head. Sighing he shook his head as he saw Cronen retrieve one of the blades from the sand, a bit of the grainy ground flying into the air, only to cascade down upon the beach.

The sun had already begun to reach perhaps through midmorning, and without anything to shade him, sweat had begun to form on his forehead, and his back. He merely shrugged off the repulsive feeling, knowing that he would have to probably clean himself upon getting back to the inn he had been residing in. In fact the thought of surrender seemed all more favorable to the thief, who was blatantly not a warrior. He had definitely not expected to be played with in a game of cat and mouse. Who ever had decided to whisper such an idea into Cronen's ear before facing him, Jared would have loved to have hit, because he was more than certain this match was over before it had even began.

Still Jared remained still, fighting the urge to cradle his bruised ribs; the damn things had never healed properly after the fighting in Roland's manor and were a constant thorn in his side. The nunchaku, while not breaking them, had in fact aggravated the wound, making Jared question his decision all over again. Still as Jared had barely taken stock of the situation he saw Cronen heft the dagger in a practiced manner, and knew instinctively what was going to happen.

Let me fight him, he won't last a minute... He heard the other voice whisper. He seemed sly about it, as if he knew something. Still Jared refused on principle alone. After all this was his fight, not some washed up has been's.

As the blade had flown across the air at him, he reached out in an effort to grab it, only to realize he had started way too late. The blade sunk to the hilt in his stomach as he groaned in pain, falling to one knee. Hissing in pain he reached up and grabbed the blade, before he tore it from the wound, biting back on a scream of pain. His breathing took on a haggard quality while he remained there on one knee before he spat, rather caustically, "Stop playing with me, we both know I'm no fighter, so end it and stop playing with me you son of a bitch!"

[Breaker]

Molten rage simmered in Breaker's veins. Not a result of the kneeling Cesarino's insult, but rather his persistent hypocrisy.

Shadows of seabirds and buzzards flitted on the sand as hot blood stained the beach. It made a crimson-brown mixture, and Josh smelled the gore as well as the airborne scavengers. The birds screamed in anticipation of the kill; a free meal. But even their raucous cries could not drown out the furious thoughts that blazed through Breaker's mind.

"His stomach is leaking his life onto the ground, and he still thinks this is a game!"

With deliberate slowness Cronen walked towards his wounded opponent. Normally he tried to avoid long conversations with challengers. He preferred physical exchanges to verbal ones. But in face of his own fiery anger he could not hold his tongue.

"Damn right you're not a fighter," he growled, voice low, barely audible above his own muffled footsteps. "A fighter wouldn't take a knee and beg for death. But you knew that about yourself before you came here. I wasted my time finding it out."

Such squandered potential. Jared possessed all the tools a fighter needed. Speed, strength, and extremely evident toughness. What he lacked was heart. It took desire to win battles, and he hadn't shown a single grain of that. Josh held his bayonet in a hammer grip, knuckles white as he closed the distance. His voice crescendoed in a release of rage as he delivered a parting message.

"If you take one thing away from this experience, remember: You don't stop fighting 'till you're dead!"

The roar of his last word filled the ocean air. Many of the gathering seabirds wheeled away, frightened by the concussive sound. Every fibre of Josh's being urged him to take the last few steps and kick Cesarino's teeth through the back of his skull. But the soldier owned too much experience for such a rash move. The severity of Jared's wound wasn't clear to him, and the boy had already displayed a massive threshold for damage. Breaker took no chances.

As when they first met that morning, his step turned into a short kick. Sand sprayed like a granulated geyser at Jared's eyes. But this time, Josh showed no mercy. He darted at an angle, planted his feet to the thief's right. The bayonet sparkled in the sun as it swivelled to an ice pick grip. He stabbed diagonally, aimed to impale the back of his opponent's neck. Nothing playful about the killing stroke, nor the stony eyes that watched for the final spatter of blood.

[Lavinian Ambition]

Jared remained on his knees before Cronen. A thousand thoughts running through his head, some his, many not. He was being encouraged to fight, to win, to prevail. The pain however was overwhelming. Jared was no fighter, he was no Joshua Cronen. He merely was a Lavinian Thief who had entered into a fight he truly shouldn't have. As he rested there in the blazing sun, the heat of the world rising up to him, he felt a serenity overcome him. He closed his eyes as he felt Cronen hover over him, waiting for the inevitable blow.

When it came, he felt no shame, no disgust. Cronen was a warrior; he deserved none of his anger. Still, it was amusing for the thief to be berated about being a warrior, about fighting to the last. It reminded Jared much of the stories of Seth Dahlios, who had pulled himself through hell and back in order to try and beat some of his opponents. However, he was no Seth, and the voice that spoke seemed to underline that particular thought clearly.

You're certainly no warrior; you can't even get off your knees and fight. What makes you think when the time comes to protect those you love, that you even can? The voice berated.

Only a stupid thief gets himself pulled into a fight. The smart thief fights on his terms, never his opponent's, Jared countered back.

The voice seemed quiet, even as the bayonet tore through his throat, leaving him to die, almost instantaneously upon the sand. As his body slumped he felt something oddly chilling, a satisfaction that washed over him. It was eerie, and he didn't know what it heralded, but part of him was happy with the rather brutal fight. It enjoyed the contest of wills. He never did like the thoughts of fights, and it was probably this feeling that made it the most apparent how much he lied to himself.


~*~

Jared awoke with a gasp as he clutched at his throat. A soft sigh issued from his lips as he realized he was not on the Island. He wasn't sure if he could suffer a lecture on being a warrior in that overbearing heat. Jared on the other hand relaxed in the cool room of the Pagoda, his mind wandering as he looked up at the ceiling. The stonework was masterfully done, leaving a minimum crack between each stone, the masons surely were proud of their work.

Still he sighed as he spoke softly, to no one but himself, "So, where do we go from here?"

If I were you, I'd hit the training course a few times. That was horrendous, The aged voice said. Jared snorted at those words prompting another berating, Oh? You don't think so?

"I'm no warrior, never was supposed to be," Jared muttered.

Only a fool or an idiot doesn't prepare for the eventuality of fighting. You didn't even protect yourself, I know you're a pragmatic pacifist, but that only explains so much of your ineptitude. You should have been able to defend yourself at the very least, The voice counter.

"I suppose you have a point there, albeit a small one," Jared returned.

Of course I do, it's frustrating to see someone like me, not even know how to hold onto his damn knives! The voice countered.

"Yeah, I guess that was pretty embarrassing, if I cared at all about the fights outcome." Jared said while he relaxed on the stones. His mind was wondering how to get back to Dheathain. Probably would have to enter the port city.

Being cavalier about it, doesn't mean you get by on being stupid Jared, The voice interjected.

Jared sighed before he said, "You know it’s often rude to be offered your own name, and not given another in return."

Oh come now, you couldn't figure out who I am? You've only been going through my memories for as long as you can remember, The voice shot back.

"That’s what I was afraid of," Jared replied sighing heavily. As he sat up he muttered softly to himself, "Well Seth Dahlios, we have a lot of talking to do, because I sure as hell don't think our current relationship is going to work...."

[Breaker]

The boy's blood spilled onto the sand, painting a masterpiece of psychotic abstract upon the shining granules. Breaker breathed heavily as he watched his victim bleed out. Sweat hung heavy in his shirt, darkening the army green in a triangle over his chest. He breathed long and slow, expelled the noxious battle lust from his lungs. His heart slowed from the pounding pace it achieved with the thrill of the kill. The shadows of scavenging birds got smaller as the winged vermin circled lower. They would not land while Josh remained. He waited until the flow of crimson diminished to a trickle, then turned and walked to the sea.

The gently lapping salt water cleaned his blade as he scoured it against the coarse sand. Shining like new, he wiped the bayonet on his pants and sheathed it. Cupped a double handful of water and splashed it against his face. The chill calmed him, like the first breath of fresh air on a winter morning. The soldier shook sand from his hair as he paced to the rowboat.

"Did he really think he'd be returning this way?"

Jared had left his satchel in the bottom of the enchanted boat. Josh reached down and plucked it by the strap, then tossed it end over end towards Cesarino's corpse. It landed in a puff of sand. Scared away the few vultures brave enough to have landed. They would return soon enough. Josh wondered if the Pagoda's healers would reach the boy's body before the carrion rendered it unrecognizable. No matter. The Ai'Bron monks could put anything right.

The boat coasted through the water, enchanted oars working tirelessly to propel it back to Scara Brae. Breaker reflected on the battle as the water reflected the sunlight. It made the sea sparkle like an ocean full of stars. He had practically killed Jared in cold blood. The oars sloshed and the boat shook as it passed through a cross-running current. The Josh who had first joined the Pagoda would not have sacrificed Jared. The former warrior would have consoled his downed opponent, offered instruction. Breaker breathed a lungful of heady sea air. Somehow, the changes that had overcome him did not bother the soldier. More and more, the clarity of his conscience appealed to him.

"This isn't a one time thing. It's going to happen again and again. Until I command the respect the Pagoda owes me, the only thing my challengers will learn is a new way to die."

Cronen cast his hazel eyes upward to the clear blue sky. What did that make him, if he didn't hesitate to kill? The sun, still hot on his tanned skin, seemed to provide the answer.

"A very fucking dangerous man."

[Logan]

Joshua Cronen



STORY



Continuity (8/10) ~ The mention of previous battles with Shadar and the demotion at the beginning were perfectly placed and gave me the almost necessary look back at his previous experiences. There was a sense of why Josh was there, but I would’ve liked it fleshed out more, maybe even more of the internal conflict that captured Josh halfway through the fight.

Setting (6/10) ~ The only thing I found intriguing about your use of the place was the sand. It was a nice added effect, but nothing until your conclusion post really screamed setting. It could’ve taken place anywhere else and nothing would’ve changed in my opinion. As for setting, that is a bad thing. My thing is always make it unique. This…was not.

Pacing (8/10) ~ I have a feeling you wanted more to come out in the comparison of who Josh was before and who he had become, but it just felt either forced or lacking at times. I would’ve suggested more fleshing out of that. On top of that, everything else about the pacing of the storyline in the thread fit and did well.



CHARACTER



Dialogue (7/10) ~ I have to say I wanted more from Josh here, and not just because he has such potential for cocky prose. His thoughts seemed odd for his character and his body language never really screamed confidence except at the very beginning. You might consider even going a little overboard with the cockiness. After all, Josh is damn lethal.

Action (8/10) ~ What the dialogue lacked in, the action did excel in. His battle actions did show some confidence, but I wanted more. Josh just comes across as a cocky ass, but it didn’t feel as much that way this time. I would strongly suggest utilizing the over the top style for battles like this where Josh should win without much question.

Persona (5/10) ~ I want to cry at this. I know Josh is a cold-blooded killer who’s been changed by his battles, but to some degree, even a slight hesitation to attack the kid here would’ve gone a long way. At times I just felt like you were going so heavily in one direction that you lost the fullness of Joshua Cronen and became Josh. I think you know what I mean, so I’m not going to beat the dead horse.



WRITING STYLE



Mechanics (8/10) ~ There were a few mistakes, and they were very few and far between. They were there however. Well written in terms of the English language.

Technique (9/10) ~ Ok, I have to say this was the first time when reading a thread I laughed out loud a particular statement written in it. The Houdini from mother’s apron comment was so well timed, so well placed, and so well said, that I literally chuckled out loud. Good use of various things, and they all helped the readability of the thread. Well done.

Clarity (8/10) ~ You were usually very succinct and to the point when necessary, and that was a good thing. However, sometimes, it made for some choppiness, and that’s just one of those things that going back a day or two later to read your post can fix. It’s an odd thing to even comment on, but I wanted more fleshing out of the battle, and as such, I docked it here. It really kinda hurt the readability of the thread at times. Kinda made me feel like I was in a car with a driver’s ed student who can’t figure out he needs to remove his foot from the brake before accelerating. WHIPLASH ALERT



Wild Card (7/10) ~ The points here came from the mother’s apron comment, the excellent conclusion, and the decent intro. If you’d have given me a reasonably done middle, you’d have scored far better and really made your point clear.




Jared Cesarino


STORY



Continuity (9/10) ~ I love how you incorporate use of Seth Dahlios and his voice into Jared’s thoughts. It really adds a lot to the overall feeling that this is more than just another battle; it has purpose and reason. That really goes a long way in making sure everything is more than just part of the storyline, it is itself a storyline that ties IN with the overarching one. Well done.

Setting (6/10) ~ See comment under Joshua’s score for Setting.

Pacing (9/10) ~ Well-paced all the way through. Blows landed and made total sense. Dialogue was right on cue at the right times. The internal struggle fit well. It just read nicely. Well done.



CHARACTER



Dialogue (8.5/10) ~ This was nicely done for Jared. The internal mixed with the verbal, and it was just genuinely fun to read. It was all well intertwined with body language that said yet another thing. Like when Jared stood even with the pain of his ribs, it was beautiful man. Just beautiful.

Action (8.5/10) ~ See same as above.

Persona (8/10) ~ There were only a couple of minor spots where I was confused by something Jared did, but it was so minor that it was probably just the way I read it. However, I still docked for it, because as a reader, it should all be clear. The persona was right on point, right on cue otherwise. Nicely done.



WRITING STYLE


Mechanics (7/10) ~ Only a couple more spots of minor typos or misused words than Josh, as such your score reflects it. Still, well-written.

Technique (7/10) ~ Because of Josh’s use of quality techniques, you lost a few points, because you just never matched it. While the thread was overall well-written, you could’ve really helped your cause here.

Clarity (8/10) ~ See Josh’s comments. You both were on par here, and for the most part I was able to read the thread. However, there were a few moments where I was hurting from the constant whip lash.



Wild Card (8/10) ~ Your points here come from the beautiful concluding statement from Jared to Seth. It was so picture perfect and really tied off that end for me that needed to be tied off. WELL done.



Total Scores:

Josh: 74
Jared: 79

Jared Wins

Exp and GP:

Jared gains 2188 Exp and 500 Gold(Figured as the normal 200 from the battle plus 300 for the thread)
Josh gains 550 Exp and 300 Gold

[Cyrus the virus]

EXP added.