Yuuto’s Battle Flamenco

[Chandra]

Reserved for MetalDrago. Bunnying of Yuuto and his band is permitted, but is limited to the music they play.
It was in a moderate paced three-fourths time signature, with a bittersweet tone to it. The lyrics were romantic, and the accompaniment consisted of a great harp, five violins, a cello, and some hand drums. On the surface, the touring musical company named Ambiance was performing an opening number that didn’t fit the premise of Radasanth’s Citadel at all. They performed in front of a captive audience of warriors and monks inside the compound’s vast atrium, and at first they were given only passing acknowledgement. Then the band’s vocalist and leader, Yuuto Chandra delved deeper with his lyrics.

…This war is my lady,
And these blades are our babies.
Feel free to berate me.
It’s how I’ve made my living lately…

Through the lyrics and the soothing accompaniment Yuuto and his band essentially venerated war, and made it as innocent as nurturing a family. The blind Raiaeran Elf knew what he was doing with his lyrics. He knew that everyone saw themselves as the hero of their own little fairy tale, no matter how pragmatic they may seem from the outside. He was letting these violent men and women know that they were not the villains civilians may claim them to be. Passer by’s slowed their gait, and soon they paused to listen closer. Ambiance began to build an audience. Afzel Chandra was a part of that audience, but he had been captivated by his brother from the beginning.

Yuuto Chandra was the first of the five children to be adopted by Elranatil and Yora’Xil Chandra. He was born blind, with a mute silver abyss of an iris in each eye. As soon as he was born he was sent by way of opulent carriage across the Twilight Mountains and to the Chandras, for what reason they did not know. There were orphanages in Raiaera, ones that would have a much easier time finding a foster family for the child. Instead he was sent into the land of the Dark Elves, where his chances of adoption were nil, not because he was blind, but because he was obviously of Raiaeran descent. Knowing this, the Chandra parents took him as their own without second thought.

The Chandra parents never allowed Yuuto to use his blindness as a crutch, and rarely did he ever try save for the mischievous cons he and his siblings may have attempted. He had always had a talent for song, and would often sing his younger siblings to sleep in their early days. When he was old enough he returned to Raiaera and entered an intensive conservatory program in Istien University, and emerged a maestro with the voice of an angel. He even had a few magical tricks up his sleeve. Perhaps even now the warriors were under some sort of spell. Near the end of the third verse, Yuuto segued into a popular folk song and invited the audience to sing along. A makeshift men’s ensemble rocked from side to side as they chanted.

…Ride on! Ride on!
Take it all by the reigns,
Despite banter or bane.
Ride on! Ride on…

By the time Ambiance had finished their opening set, the warriors had become their own little chorus, singing even without the band’s assistance. Afzel figured this was the opportune time to greet his older brother, so he swam through the sea of armor and muscle to the stage area. Over a dozen familiar faces scurried about the area changing and tuning instruments. In the center of the stage an elf sat in a chair wielding a guitar. He had short auburn hair, fair skin, the signature pointed ears, and the aforementioned muted silver eyes.

Even after a lifetime of having a blind brother, Afzel had to fight the urge to give a futile wave. As a measure against the dimwitted move he folded his hands under his big black poncho. He walked up on stage and stood beside his brother for a while, watching over the crowd as he spoke. “Good performance.”

“Thanks.” Yuuto said in a voice much deeper than that of his singing voice. It always left Afzel dumbfounded as to how a man with such a deep voice could sing such high notes. “Have you enjoyed your stay in Corone so far? Gone to any good pubs? Seen any good attractions?”

“Do you want me to be honest?” In saying those words he was being honest. Afzel had been to some good pubs, but the ones here were prone to violence, as opposed to Ettermire’s pubs, which got you a job that led to violence. He went to see a horse race, but it didn’t last too long. There was one good thing about Corone though. “Good people. Good conversation. They’re more used to unfamiliar and exotic faces than they are to their own. Hell, if there weren’t a civil war going on I’d buy mom and dad a house here.”

“You know. I was thinking the same thing. These are nice people. They’d probably be more accepting of our kaleidoscope family.” You haven’t even seen a kaleidoscope Afzel immediately thought to himself. Yuuto continued. “I’m glad we had to perform here. Otherwise you may not have even come to the Citadel. I figured since you’ve seen me perform countless time, maybe you could perform for me in a controlled environment.”

“You wouldn’t even be able to see it!” Afzel said as Yuuto turned towards the sound of his voice and smiled. “Nevertheless, the chance to go to battle full on without any consequences besides gaining experience shouldn’t be passed up. I’ll fight.”

“Good.” Yuuto said as he stood up and cleared his throat. “Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to introduce you all to my dear little brother, Afzel.”

“You can see the resemblance, right?” Afzel motioned towards his dark olive face with a smile. The large crowd voiced their amusement.

“Like you all, my brother is a warrior and this is his very first time in the Citadel.” Applause followed that statement. Afzel wasn’t sure if it was to welcome a young new warrior, or a cry for fresh meat. It was probably a mix of both. “He has just agreed to partake in a battle, right here in the Citadel atrium.”

Afzel could see a few bald headed figures pressing the crowds to make room. One monk standing in the center of the room began creating strange shapes with his hands and mumbling in broken Common. Moments later a blue light emanated from the marble floor. It drew a circle around the monk, and then slowly expanded to a fifty foot diameter. As it expanded, those near its edge were mysteriously compelled to make way. The monk in the center of the space gestured for Afzel to enter. He dropped down from the stage, combed through the crowd where the smell of sweat went up one nostril, and the smell of steel went up the other. He finally found air where the luminescent ring gave a blue tint to his black suit. Below his oversized poncho, he secretly prepared for battle. His right hand clenched the cold pommel of the Schiavona at his left side, and his left hand clenched the end of the warm crimson wand at his right side. That wand was the very wand Yuuto had given to him a few years ago. He had to show that he could use it.

The monk in the center of the circle began to speak aloud. “This ring is impregnable, and cannot be penetrated by any outside object, being, or spell. The only three allowed inside this ring are myself, the man you see before you, and his challenger, who is now being selected.”

[MetalDrago]

MetalDrago had been listening with quiet amusement at the music that had been playing up until the very end. He'd been moved into singing along with the rest of the crowd, but with a much more malevolent hiss hiding behind his words. Years of hatred, of a constant search for vengeance, had come to pass, and he was now a much more sadistic being than he'd been, even mere months ago. It was almost as if some alien force was guiding his soul down the path to evil. His intrepid kindness and insatiable lust for an honorable fight still stuck with him. He felt his inner darkness taking a toll on his soul, but he didn’t care. As long as he could find and destroy the one’s who’d made him suffer, he’d gladly give himself completely to those new, destructive urges.

He was driven to go to the Citadel by a primal urge, and a desire to sharpen his skills for combat with Terramat and MetalDrago’s brother Seraius. Reiana, he’d had no problem with from the beginning, and he couldn’t bring himself to kill her unless she attacked him.

The band played beautifully, bringing in the crescendos at just the right places, playing peacefully, yet with ever loving attention to the details of war and fighting. He slowly caressed the blade strapped to his side as he watched in awe as the blind singer painted the lives of the warriors in the room with such enthusiastic power. Oh, there was more than a little magic involved, MetalDrago was sure. He could sense the impossibly hypnotic aura surrounding the band as they played.

As the band finished, MetalDrago felt no rush of remorse, or feeling of sudden loss. It felt normal, as even a word must die in the air, eventually. He felt a rude shove behind him as a being made his way up to the stage. MetalDrago didn’t understand the rush, but watched with mild interest as the young being bounded up to the stage. When the young one was introduced as the singer’s younger brother, MetalDrago almost smiled. It was when he was proclaimed as a warrior that MetalDrago actually did begin to smile. It was as if the power of his own hatred had turned him into that which he once hated most.

MetalDrago’s eyes began to glow a bright green as he allowed his sadistic bloodlust overtake him. He felt the aura emanating off of his own body, seeking to draw in anyone it could find in order to fight them. This wasn’t a fight for more experience. It was a fight to test himself against an opponent, to find one who was worth defeating. All that he now desired was a challenge, and he would find that, perhaps, in this young man. MetalDrago wasn’t sure why he believed he would be the one to challenge this young soul, but he desired it greatly, almost more than he could bear.

As the monk made the circle of power appear, MetalDrago looked around, craving to see the face of all the other battle-hardened warriors as the very atrium of the Citadel was made into an arena. A sadistic expression appeared on his face as he registered each person. There were many men and women crowded around the circle, waiting for the challenger to appear, and MetalDrago, it seemed, was destined to fight in this match.

He stepped forward, his clawed feet clacking, echoing against the white marble walls of the atrium, as he entered the circle. As he’d predicted, it was not rejecting him as it had all the others. It was caressing his skin as he entered, billowing the crimson cloak behind him, and tossing the cowl back to reveal his face. A few people stared in open shock, some grunted about his appearance, but most were just impassive at the worst. MetalDrago’s silver scales shown in the light of the atrium like coins grafted to his skin by the forge of Fate. His all too human face frowned, predicting an interesting fight, way apart from the norm.

He tilted his head to the side as he heard the band strumming up, getting ready to begin playing again. …In tune to our battle? MetalDrago thought to himself. He thought it strange to have music accompany a battle, though it invigorated him all the same. “Heh… This might actually be more interesting than I thought.” He said under his breath. The dragonian warrior unclasped the cloak from around his neck and let it fall to the ground, letting his wings, which had been wrapped around his torso, to hide them, open up completely, reaching their complete span just to make an impression on the young lad.

“I’m MetalDrago Scorpio, and I’ll be your opponent.” MetalDrago said, his wings closing onto his back. He bowed formally, exposing himself for only a split second, and then laughed as he stood back up. He drew his sword, the amber-bladed Dragon’s Honor longsword, and said, “I’m sure you know this, but don’t hold back against me, because I won’t be doing you that courtesy.”

At that point, a sadistic voice spoke up from within the realms of MetalDrago’s unconscious mind. Why offer him the courtesies of combat when no one offers me the same? Why shouldn’t I just attack him outright and take his miserable life? MetalDrago couldn’t bring himself to respond to that voice, and a sadistic smile appeared on his lips as a different voice continued. You’re kidding me. You get more enjoyment by playing honorable, by being helpful and noble, because it gives you more of a challenge? Or is it because you enjoy seeing the pained expression on their face as they see an honorable fighter has bested them, that an honorable fighter has seen through and dismantled all their tricks, one by one?

MetalDrago nodded as the music began to play again. He felt an excitement build in his blood that he hadn’t felt in ages. He wasn’t completely above playing dirty, but he was not going to demean his honor by allowing himself to fall into the degradation of fighting based solely on trickery and deceit. What fun as a fight if it was over before you could enjoy it? No, MetalDrago fought with his all, and could never allow himself to do less, or resort to lowly tricks. Within his mind, he felt his own voice boom. I fight the way I do, because I enjoy the challenge of defeating someone who challenges me in different ways. I find joy every time my sword bites into the flesh of another being, and feeling the caress of their weapons against my scales… To me, this is fun.

He understood, finally, why it was that he fought so often in the Citadel. It wasn’t purely to gain experience. It was to test him against others in the hopes of having a good time. He enjoyed fighting, and it was as much a part of him as his father’s dragonian blood. It was inescapable, this lust for battle, so now, here in the atrium of the Citadel, standing before Afzel, he let it envelope him like a miasma, and breathed deeply of it, this new lust for battle now a part of himself. What’s more, he found this not only easy to accept, but almost as if it was meant to be. His eyes gleamed with an inner light of untold excitement. Life was about to get a whole lot more interesting.

[Chandra]

Only a few seconds passed, but the pure anticipation of Afzel’s first battle in the world famous Citadel had already caused a rush of adrenaline. Those seconds felt like minutes. He had been a part of battles before, whether they were real or not. He’d had his fair share of diverse opponents. Over the past year he had even taken a handful of lives under his new profession as a mercenary. The adrenaline still kicked in, and his sense of time always went haywire. Moments of stagnation seemed to last an eternity, and moments of action seemed to be accelerated to the point that Afzel would have to look back at the end of the day and ask himself did I do that? It wasn’t that he was faster than the average person. It was because his brain was rushing.

A curved claw tapped the space beyond the luminescent ring, almost as if to test the waters, and finally a crimson figure entered the circle. In a single moment Afzel’s opponent discarded his cloak, revealed his argent silhouette, and spread his wings. Never had he seen a being stand in such contrast against a dreary backdrop of earth toned warriors. It reminded Afzel of a peacock, and he couldn’t help but smile at the thought. He didn’t voice the observation though, not because he was afraid but because he was polite. The two were going to battle anyways. What would be the use of pissing his opponent off?

Yuuto’s band rang in Afzel’s ear and cut his attention in half even as the silver scaled warrior introduced himself as MetalDrago Scorpio, and warned Afzel not to hold back. He smiled as he walked further into the circle. “Well, Mr. Scorpio, this is the one place I wouldn’t hold back.”

Afzel stopped in the dead center of the ring as the monk backed away. The pommel of his Schiavona was now comfortably warm in the grip of his right hand, and he was now allowing the very wand Yuuto had given him to twist between the fingers of his left hand. An eerie silence befell the atrium. The band stopped warming up, the spectators stopped talking. It felt as if the entire world was waiting to hear what the young mercenary was about to say. Even the Niema River stopped blowing its sour breath in through the entrance. “I’ll be waiting for you to make the first strike. Mind you, this isn’t me holding back.”

Just then the sound of Yuuto’s guitar echoed throughout the pallid walls. It was the only sound in the room as the blind virtuoso guided it up and down the musical scale in ominous tones. A dark prelude to the battle.

[MetalDrago]

As the young man stepped forward into the center of the ring, MetalDrago couldn’t help but smile. The monk had stepped well out of the way, obviously wishing not to interfere in an honorable fight here in the Citadel. MetalDrago made a mental note to remember to thank the monk for staying out of the way. As the entire room quieted, the only thing that could be heard was the young man’s voice. MetalDrago laughed softly to himself as the young man spoke. He proceeded to twirl the Dragon’s Honor, watching as the silver hilt and amber blade caught in the sunlight streaming through the open Citadel doors. His longsword was his pride and joy, and he was planning on using it to defeat the young one standing in the middle of the ring.

Of course, he had something of his own to say before he did it. Walking in careful, measured steps, the dragonian warrior could still feel the silent anticipation of the crowd around them, even as the band started playing the dark prelude. His talons clacked softly against the stone floor beneath him as he thought carefully about what he was going to say, almost as if he was tapping his fingers impatiently. His talons finally stopped tapping against the floor when he figured out what it was he wanted to say. He smiled, almost evilly as he said, “You’re a confident one, aren’t you? Well, I suppose that’s the way it goes, sometimes, isn’t it?” MetalDrago didn’t say one word about being allowed the first strike. He merely let his grin get wider as he began walking toward the boy.

His eyes were glowing in anticipation of the coming battle, and he wouldn’t be content with just defeating this child. He wanted a chance to actually test the limits of his abilities. If Afzel didn’t put up a good fight, MetalDrago would be disappointed. He walked around in a circle, ending up back where he stood, in front of Afzel, before he decided what his first act would be.

MetalDrago smiled sadistically as he flicked his wrist, one of his Fireball spells appearing in his hand. The flame burned, casting red shadows on his scales, a stark contrast to the emerald color of his eyes. Admiring his handiwork for only a second, the warrior tossed the fireball at Afzel, following it closely with his sword post to strike from behind the Fireball.

MetalDrago laughed in his insane, newfound lust for combat. Where before he had been calm and collected, now he was wired, and ready to do whatever it would take to win. There was a unique darkness to his personality now, a shadow that seemed to cling to him as he swung his sword. The sword in his hand echoed his newfound darkness, and seemed to scream as it was swung through the air, a scream of evil… and of pain.

[Chandra]

Afzel’s smile would have stayed on his face, but as the emerald eyes of the scaly warrior began to glow something else came to mind. Something about this battle bothered him. He had been in battles before, real and for practice. That didn’t bother him. The mercenary had taken lives before, but he could count those occasions on one hand. That didn’t bother him either. What bothered him was that he and the lizard man were participating in an all out battle based on a promise, the promise of the Citadel. These two combatants were depending on the ability of people they didn’t even know.

Afzel’s eyes narrowed slightly from the light of MetalDrago’s handheld flame. Soon after, the combatant unleashed the fireball towards him. The Half Elf mercenary’s solution to the problem was simple. He pressed the majority of his weight onto the ball of his right foot and pushed off, allowing him to make a well grounded lunge to the left. With little effort, Afzel was out of the way well before the flaming projectile reached him. It was clear that MetalDrago was not plagued with the same concerns Afzel was, and if Afzel was to win this battle he couldn’t allow those concerns to plague him either.

It was the dragon warrior’s sinister laugh that gave away his next move. He was traveling behind the sphere of fire using it as a luminescent veil. Afzel calmly unsheathed his blade and waited for his opponent to charge past him. Once he did Afzel made his first offensive move, a backslash with his Schiavona. A silver blur emerged out of his poncho from left to right, and with anticipation towards the dragon with the brown blade.

[MetalDrago]

MetalDrago was aware that the child was going to dodge his fireball, and shifted his direction slightly to the right, and using his wings as a parachute, slowing his advance. As he passed Afzel, he turned, waiting with his sword drawn straight up the flat of the blade on his left hand, the hilt in his right. What he expected came to pass. A flash of silver and the blade of the young halfling connected with his own. The half elf was fast, and smart. MetalDrago couldn’t help but find himself becoming more excited. But there was something in the child’s eyes that made MetalDrago slightly less excited. It was apprehension, like he doubted the Monks of the Citadel.

MetalDrago caught the air with his wings and flapped once, sending a strong gust in the direction of the Half Elf, as well as being thrown backwards by the force of his own wings. MetalDrago connected to the ground with as much grace as he could muster, which is to say, not a lot. He landed, with one knee on the ground, one foot on the ground, and his left hand helping to balance him as he tried to stand up. He’d never done that before in the confines of the Citadel. It was kind of fun. “Heh heh. Kid, this is kinda fun.” MetalDrago’s emerald eyes became alive with light again. “Now, you seem apprehensive, like something doesn’t seem right around here. Care to share, or should we just continue fighting?”

MetalDrago brought his sword to the ready, his eyes closed, almost as if waiting for something. He was waiting for something, alright. He was waiting for one of two sounds to reach his ears. One would be the footsteps of the kid before him, and the other would be the kid’s voice, giving name to his concerns. MetalDrago already had a guess as to which of these would come first, but he was willing to wait, to let the kid make his choice. He has every likelihood of wanting to attack and save questions for later, but what fun is the Citadel if opponents can't have a little chat while they're fighting? It's not like any of these fights are life or death situations... MetalDrago chuckled lightly to himself. He'd 'died' in the Citadel more times than he could remember, several times due to an impossibly powerful elven warrior name Xanith Trailweaver. It was absoluterly the most annoying thing in the world to be dead for a few minutes and then brought back to life after a battle. MetalDrago didn't exactly want to kill the boy, but that was how most of the fights in the Citadel just so happened to end. Man are the priests going to have one hell of a mess to clean up when we're done.

In the sky, through the high windows of the Citadel, a thunderhead bade welcome to the warriors, cracking ominously in the sky. Along with the music being played, it sounded like a giant bass drum. MetalDrago couldn’t help but smile as he listened to the music cascade around him, increasing the fire deep inside, the fire of passion, a passion for battle that, if let unbound, could burn the entire world around him. As the candles slowly became the only source of light in the Citadel, a blinding flash appeared in the sky. Lightning… A storm was here, and it would only serve to add to MetalDrago’s battle lust, as the energy cackled through the air.