Bazaar Blues (Closed)

[MetalDrago]

MetalDrago approached the monks slowly, his blood red cloak wrapped securely around his body, his hood thrown up. He smiled from within the shadows of his cloak. He had a feeling that today’s Citadel battle would be one of the most interesting he’d go through in the foreseeable future. One of the monks, his old friend Eins the monk greeted him and motioned him off to the side. “Master Scorpio, your request has been fulfilled. You always come up with some of the most interesting battlegrounds we have here at the Citadel. You sure you want to be the one to fight in the first test match? You could always watch while some others fight for you, so you can make any changes you’d like as time passes.”

The orchid eyes of the Dragonian Paladin of N’Jal looked down at Eins with a withering gaze. “If I intended the arena to be used first by anyone else, I’d have said so. Besides…” he smiled easily, putting away some of Eins fears, “It’s been a long time since I’ve had the chance to experiment with new ways of fighting, and this new arena will make for interesting sport.” The monk merely nodded and began to lead the Paladin to the room they’d made into his new arena.

“Please remember, Master Scorpio, there are things in this room that we had to craft from scratch. The people are, of course, illusions, but no less real in their ability to hurt you should they wish.” The monk opened the door carefully as the Dragonian smiled and nodded at him.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He said as he walked through the door. Eins smiled. The Master Scorpio was never one to back down from a challenge this interesting. Now all that was left was to find him an opponent.

The door creaked open, and the Paladin walked out of a makeshift hut and into the midday sun. The smells and sights around him were something wondrous to behold. The hot humid air surrounded him like a blanket as he walked down a well-worn path into the street below. He still had his cloak wrapped protectively around himself, but he could smell it, a smell all too familiar. It was the smell of burning coals, charred wood, and sulfur. The monks had outdone themselves. This was a perfect reflection of his favorite shopping district in the entire world of Althanas, the Bazaar. Street vendors haggled with various people of all colors, races, and creeds. Long-established shops dotted the road, signs reading everything from fine china to music instruments to weapons. The sounds, the smells, the sights… It was exactly as he remembered, and now he’d be free to fight here without interruption. He laughed evilly as he looked up into the clear blue sky.

Today was going to be the best day ever...

[Enigmatic Immortal]

Today was a really crappy day for Jensen. A bird left it’s marks upon his jacket when he woke up, a badger had stolen ten gold, and a raccoon squared off with the immortal for the rights to who could eat the last wedge of cheese he had left in his satchel. He was disappointed that the raccoon had defeated him.

He couldn’t even bring himself to be optimistic about the situation. Just how the hell could a glass be half full when so much bad news headed his way. Not that good news often stopped to say hello and chat for that matter. No, the Knight of Apocalypse was guessing that today was just going to be another bad day, and low and behold he was already of to a great start.

Jensen’s trek to the citadel was a bit more calm than his morning. A few travelers stopped to chat with him, and in return for entertaining five minutes of conversation he managed to acquire enough of a breakfast to keep him happy until lunch. Otherwise the sky was blue and the sun shined like a dazzling performer on stage.

As he stepped up the hand crafted steps he looked at the vastness of the building with an unappreciated eye. The Citadel was boring to Jensen. He didn’t really fathom why people would bother fighting to the death if they weren’t really going to die. It didn’t bring out the latent power inside of anyone, because the body knew it was being tricked. Still it did have one redeemable quality. Jensen never was left wanting for a sparring partner.

The immortal walked to the front counter and looked at the current open invitations for a brawl as well as what the room offered in terms of scenery. Nothing really caught his eye except for two rooms: a fight atop a rainbow with a strange request for male combatants only, and the other was of the local Bazaar. He got into the flow of looking at that fighting script and he nodded. That room would do.

“I want to fight whoever is in the bazaar room.” Jensen looked around the room and sighed as he leaned against the desk. The monk nodded setting up the paper work and within moments he was escorted to the portal where he would be fighting.

As he entered the arena his eyes took in a scene of complete organized chaos. There was no other way to describe the hustle and bustle of activity as the people moved around each other like a colony of ants. He smelled sulfur, fresh bread, rotting fish and other unique spices and smells as he closed his eyes taking in everything. This was a rather elaborate room, he concluded.

Pulling out his punch knife he walked as one amongst the people, his eyes darting around looking for whoever his foe may be.

[MetalDrago]

MetalDrago watched from slightly off to the side of the largest crowd of people, blending in with the shadows. He could feel the excitement buzzing inside his very soul. Illusory or not, there would be a lot of innocent bystanders getting killed in this Bazaar today. He felt his newest target arrive before he saw him, and he could tell this was going to be a very interesting fight. His orchid eyes began to radiate with the intensity of a man possessed. As he watched the crowd, he slowly reached up and very dramatically took down his hood. His crimson scales glinted in the sunlight, even from the shadows. He smiled venomously as he walked slowly out from the shadows, his hand resting on the pommel of the Dragon’s Betrayal, his serrated-edged katana. Then, without warning, he jumped into the nearest crowd of bystanders and mercilessly slaughtered three people, dismembering them with a sadistic grin.

As he stood up from his kills, his sword and armor soaked with the blood of these innocent people, the crowd scattered. No guards would come, no shops would close, and soon, this would all be forgotten by the illusions at hand. The Paladin had made certain that the only real combatants in the arena would be himself and his opponent, to facilitate at least the façade of a fair fight. The sun beat down with an oppressive force as the dark being threw himself into the next group of innocents, who happened to be browsing a weapon stand. They too scattered as he crashed into him, screaming bloody murder and hoping against hope that something would be done about the madman that had attacked them. He took a dagger from the vendor’s stall and pushed it into the neck of the nearest screaming woman, watching with apparent glee as she was silenced, the crimson elixir that gave all things life spraying from the wound in her neck. Unable to speak or even breathe, the woman collapsed to the ground, asphyxiating in her own blood.

The Dragonian looked at the weapons vendor and smiled icily at him, but the elderly gentleman just looked back at him, a half-smile on his lips. This man had seen much carnage, apparently, and did not shy away from the Paladin. Instead, he merely went about taking the dagger out of the woman’s neck and cleaning it, humming a half-remembered song to himself.

“That was fun, but I need something a bit more challenging… Where is my opponent?” the Dragonian wondered aloud. Senseless carnage without provocation or punishment was fun, but he was more interested in what this latest fight would hold for him.

[Enigmatic Immortal]

“That didn’t take long,” Jensen whispered under his breath as he watched his foe start randomly killing innocent illusionary bystanders. Blood already sprayed many people and in a very unusual disinterest they carried on moving from one store to the next. He couldn’t quite understand the point of why his foe was a psychotic blood crazed sociopath, but to each their own he surmised with a grin.

He moved deep within the crowd as he reached a weapons store. It was one of those ratty places where everything was second hand and nothing of any value could be found. He pretended to be interested in a long curved dagger, lifting it up with an appraising eye. The surface wouldn’t do as he pointed to a large bastard sword along the wall with a polished sheen. The shop keeper nodded grabbing the blade and handing it to him. He held it upwards and smiled at his own reflection before he turned his head as well as the blade ever so softly to the side.

He could see the street behind him under the canopy he loitered in. His foe was looking for something else at this point, apparently already bored that people weren’t bothering to fight back. He kept his eyes upon the man with his back turned, watching every movement through the sheen on the blade.

“You going to admire yourself forever, Narcissist? Or do you plan to actually by that thing?” the shopkeeper said angrily. Jensen gave him a dirty look before he realized he didn’t have to put up with the man. He slipped his fingers to his throwing knives and in a fluid motion he lifted it up and swiped it across the neck of the shopkeeper. He gurgled loudly and thumped upon the table before falling to the ground where he drew his last breath.

Jensen’s eyes flashed to the blade and he was happy to note the opponent didn’t seem to notice the kill. Of course he didn’t’ know this for sure but he took it as a sign as he put the blade down on the table. His eyes scanned the rest of the shop and with a pilfers intuition he found a small fortune of gold laying in a sack on a chair near the corpse of the shopkeeper.

The knight moved along the table at the speed as the rest of the fake inhabitants of the bazaar so not to draw attention. When he felt confident he reached over and picked up the gold sack. He opened it and noted that there seemed to be several bundles tied in stacks of ten coins. Jensen patted the soft leather and moved as one with the crowd towards a group of thugs.

“How much to hire you guys to pick a fight with a freak of nature?” Jensen asked in tradespeak, his tone causal and his posture relaxed to further blend him in. The group looked to him and then to each other as they talked it over in hushed whispers. After they reached a consensus the shortest member of the group spoke for them.

“Five hundred gold.” Jensen nodded as he tossed them the bag. The short thug looked inside and his eyes went wide. “Damn, you really want the hurt put on this guy.” he whistled as he pulled the string taught and placing it on his belt.

“Just make sure he doesn’t know I sent you and wait two minutes. If you can see me, don’t attack him. Wait until I blend back with the crowd. Understood?” The thugs nodded as they lifted up their makeshift weapons. Jensen smiled turning to the bazaar and walking deeper inside its depths.

[MetalDrago]

MetalDrago looked up and down the street, wondering the whole time if his opponent would make a move. He had not seen the swift and merciless kill his promised opponent had made with the old shopkeeper, and it didn’t register that he would be facing someone as crazy as himself. He turned and began walking down the street when he heard one of the illusionary people call out to him.

“Hey, freak!”

The Paladin stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes burning with a furious blue-violet light. “What… did… you… just… CALL ME?!” He screamed at them, his hissing voice rising up into a roar full of dark purpose.

The short thug walked up to him and poked him in the chest. “You heard me, freak.” He said again. MetalDrago punched the shorter man in the face and watched him sprawl out on the ground with some satisfaction. And then, it hit him, like a bolt out of the blue. There were myriad weapon shops around here that he could use to his advantage. Of course, he was going to have to rush, because about ten men were standing there ready to beat him into a bloody pulp… Thwap! A rock bounced off the middle of his forehead. The Dragonian turned and ran to the nearest shop and dove in through the large bay window… right into a large shelf of fine china plates. He crashed through the shelf like a boulder and hit the ground. He could hardly believe it, the first shop he found, and it sold fine china?

“What in the name of… N’Jal help me…” he hissed under his breath as he stood up, shaking off the broken bits of porcelain as he did so. He walked through the shop while the shopkeeper was berating him over the broken merchandise. Without even thinking about it, the Paladin drove his sword through the shopkeeper’s body. While he was attempting to pull the sword out, the thugs from just a couple of minutes past showed up in the doorway.

“Well lookie here, boys… we found ourselves a freak. Let’s get him.” They slowly approached him. Without thinking, the dark one picked up the nearest object and tossed it at the goon’s head. The porcelain serving dish shattered into pieces on contact with the rock-hard head of the man, some of the shards falling and catching in his arms and on his shoulders. The rest of them picked up their pace, and the Paladin was forced to let go of his sword and find some other means of protecting himself.

He picked up plates, bowls, anything and everything he could find, and began tossing them at the goons furiously, his injured pride well-evidenced in his eyes. Once he’d run out of plates, he ran to the dead body of the shopkeeper, placed his foot squarely on the cadaver’s chest and pulled up sharply on his sword. He then turned to the goons and brandished his sword, making them pause for just a second. Then, he had another brilliant idea. He took his sword and pressed it up against one of the glass display cases in the shop and pushed very lightly, causing the case to topple and cause a domino effect in the shop, ending up with a lot of broken glass and china piled up on top of a group of dazed and confused goons.

Then, he left the shop to seek out his opponent again.

[Enigmatic Immortal]

Jensen could hear the destruction a few yards away from him, his smile never fading as he walked along the bazaar with a fleeting desire to explore everything at once. He eyed a small silks shop and entered the door, a small bell ringing to alert the keeper of the cloth to his presence. A small older lady walked up to him, a measuring tape draped across her neck and a smile as warm as freshly baked cookies.

“Welcome to Splendor in Silk,” she said softly. “May I take your measurements while you await a seamstress?” Jensen shook his head softly as he looked at the finished products of several silken clothes. He took particular interest in a vest and walked over picking it up and feeling the smoothness run along his fingers.

“How much?” he asked. The woman gave him a grin as she waved him over to the desk where business was conducted. He removed his coat and put on the vest, enjoying the class it gave him as he looked in the mirror. He then placed his modified trench coat over his shoulders and nodded once patting his belly. “Looking good,” he whispered loudly.

The old lady sat at a chair and opened her center drawer revealing the combination to the safe located in the back room. He felt a twinge of guilt and a thrill of terror run along his spine as he sat at the chair offered to him. “Color, size, and workmanship would bring the price to four hundred gold coins, sir.”

Jensen frowned. The makeshift bazaar was as accurate as the real thing alright as he mulled the price over in his head. “I would like to see a seamstress then, can you grab me one?” Jensen said lightly. The woman nodded once and got up walking to the edge of the room behind a rack of jackets. As soon as he couldn’t see her he opened the drawer and picked up the combination to the safe. Moving swiftly to the door behind the desk he opened to see a stately office with the safe in the side room. He bent over the metal protector and his fingers delightedly cracked open the safe using the combination.

The gold sitting in front of him was just obnoxious and he greedily pocketed most of it and then grabbed a silk satchel tossing the rest inside. He shut the safe and twirled the dial in glee as he moved outside and sat at the chair whistling like everything in the world was fine. The older woman and the seamstress returned and both looked to him with glowing smiles.

“Changed my mind, I’ll buy it as is,” Jensen said dropping the amount on the table. The old woman gave him a pleased expression as Jensen walked out to the outside world again. With new funds in his pocket he began to think of what else he could.

Easily he turned towards the shadier region of the bazaar and walked carefully to not attract attention. He searched for a weapons shop and found one lurking in a corner trying to hide. He entered the shaded umbrella and the man looked to him with a toothless grin. Jensen dropped five hundred gold in front of him, making sure each stack was easily readable until his gross display of wealth was made note of to the shop keeper.

“I want a hidden wrist dagger and a cloak to hide it with.”

“Cloaks are too easily suspicious. Take this sweater.” the shopkeeper mumbled handing him his purchase wrapped underneath a sweater. Jensen dropped fifty more coins in his hand.

“For the clothing.” he whispered as he moved back to the central bazaar area. His eyes found his target and he let a small smile engulf his face as he chuckled walking up a set of stairs to a small pavilion over looking the dirt road that his opponent was walking. After the man passed by him he took a heaping handful of coins in both hands and tossed it overhead so it showered the man behind him.

Within seconds the poor slums of the bazaar descended upon the coinage like moths to a flame.

[MetalDrago]

No way… MetalDrago thought to himself as he turned around and saw the group of people descending on the coins like moths to a flame. Then, it hit him. He was being toyed with. His opponent was probably an ordinary human who’d blend in to the Bazaar like a drop of water in a rainstorm. This was not going to be fun. “How dare he mess with me…” the Dragonian hissed under his breath. He sheathed his sword and got as far away as he could from the din of people struggling for that one extra gold coin and sought higher ground from which he could survey his surroundings. Eventually, he did find an odd-looking building with a balcony and decided to knock on the door. A young woman opened the door and led him inside by his arm.

Once he was inside, she forced him to sit down and walked out of the room. When she came back, she was accompanied by about twenty scantily clad women, each as beautiful as the next. Oh, shit… I’m in a whorehouse! How he would ever explain this one, he had no idea, but as one of the women approached him, he could feel himself becoming more and more obviously uncomfortable. He’d never been very good when dealing with women, at least not intimately. The very thought of it made him sick. He stood up and tried to squeeze by the woman, to little avail. She brushed up against him from behind and wrapped her arms around him. This was, apparently, a very high-class whorehouse. She smelled of sweet perfumes and was soft to the touch. It was at that point that all of the Dragonian’s mental facilities shut down. His body went completely rigid and he held this pose until the woman sighed and let him go. It was at that moment that he realized he’d been holding his breath, so he breathed out and in very deeply.

Why? Why did it have to be a place like this? He asked himself in his head. He could feel the blood pounding in his veins. His body began to shake as he looked at the women around him. So, he relied on the only weapon he had to combat feelings like this, his bloodlust. His eyes shone with a blue-violet light as he struck out with his sword indiscriminately, killing all of the women where they stood. His body tensed and relaxed in spasms as he watched his sword drink of their blood. Then he ran up the stairs and pushed through the upper floor until he reached the balcony. His eyes surveyed his surroundings, but he still couldn’t tell who his opponent was in the din of loud, obnoxious shoppers and haggling merchants.

His fist smashed into the railing of the balcony as his other hand gripped it. Then, he heard a creaking sound. “Please, no…” he said. The creaking got louder. “No, no…” Suddenly, the entire ill-constructed balcony fell with him on it.

About ten seconds later he was pushing aside splintered wood and broken tile, not to mention the occasional nail that got stuck in his scales. “This… is ridiculous.”

[Enigmatic Immortal]

Jensen watched from a bench in the pavilion as the draconian warrior free fell to the ground below. He pressed his lips into a grin standing up and walking with the crowd towards the food district and the unique smells he took in was just marvelous to the knight.

The immortal had stopped at an apple cart dropping off a few coins and taking a large bite out of the crisp fruit letting the juices run along his lower lip like dribbled ale. He scanned for what he had in mind and at long last his nostrils picked up the scent.

The sound of cows echoed in his ears as he approached the caged area. A cart of dung was attached to a pair of oxen who grazed on the dead grass near the edges of the bazaar. A farmer approached the immortal and tipped his hat to him in greeting, In kind Jensen did the same with a nod of his head as he pointed to three bulls standing together near the middle of the herd.

“What can I do fer ya, friend?” Jensen smiled boisterously as he pointed out his choices.

“I was wondering what those three bulls would be worth to purchase?” Jensen jingled his inflated silk bag of coins. The farmer lowered his smile into a sly grin as he wet his dry lips.

“Each bull will be two hundred gold coins.” Jensen shook his head as he pointed to the one on the far left.

“That one looks ill,” he said. “Look at the coloring of its eyes compared to the other two and how slowly it shifts around. I won’t pay more than one hundred for each.”

“I’ll agree he isn’t in his prime but ta drop the price of the other two healthier bulls? What makes ya reckun ya can do that?” Jensen gave him an irritated look.

“If he is diseased he may already have spread it to the others in this herd. Consider the reduced price my fee for keeping my revelations a secret between two gentlemen.” he extended his hand. The farmer looked to him with a dark look but took the hand spitting on the ground next to the knight. Jensen pulled out the money and the farmer called one of his sons to grab the bulls.

When the boy came forward with all three bulls attached to a rope Jensen leaned in closely to the child.

“What are you, sixteen?” he asked. The boy shook his head.

“Fourteen. Ma says I’m older than I look.” Jensen smiled to him pulling out his gold again and playing with it in his hands so the farmer’s son could get a good look at it.

“I was wondering if you would be interested in doing a little errand for me. I will of course pay you well for it. All I want you to do is go down to the local bazaar with those bulls and let them loose by the whore house. Stampede style, if you couldn’t understand my intent.” Jensen smiled pulling his satchel upwards and pulling out large bundles of coins stacked a hundred high. He counted eight of them and looked to the boy who already was reaching his hand out to grab it.

“Nuh uh!” Jensen said lifting a warning finger. “Two rules. First rule is you cannot reveal who gave you this money, nor who owns those bulls. Second rule is you may not do this task if you see me at all. Wait until you can no longer see me before you piss them off. Understood?”

The boy nodded furiously and Jensen dropped the money in his hand. He placed all the gold into his overalls pouch and grabbed the rope walking off with Jensen towards the main street again as he searched for the man he was fighting. When the immortal spotted him he pointed in the direction that his foe was and moved with the crowd to drop out of sight as he quickly put on the sweater he was given earlier taking his jacket and stuffing it into his bag.

[MetalDrago]

The Dragonian stood up, his knees weak, his head throbbing, and his spirit almost completely broken. “I’m being beaten by my own arena. How is this even possible?” He asked. He stumbled away from the broken balcony and looked up and down the street. It seemed way too quiet all of a sudden. Then, the Paladin heard snorts coming from behind him. He slowly turned around and saw three bulls staring him down with a young man leading them by ropes. Somehow, he knew what was about to happen next. The boy took a standard red cloth and tossed it in front of all three bulls, immediately attracting the attention of the first two, while the third took a couple of seconds to recognize it for what it was. Immediately, the first two took off, and MetalDrago barely avoided them, turning sideways and hoping to squeeze between the two. His cloak got torn by one of the bulls’ feet, and he cursed silently to himself.

Of course, by this time he’d forgotten about the third bull, which charged only a moment later and knocked him over, trampling him underfoot as it ran forward. “I’m having a really bad day…” the Paladin said as he slowly stood up. He winced as he felt his arm, broken and twisted in the wrong direction. Without an actual battle, this pain was nothing more than pain. The euphoria he often felt in the afterglow of a strenuous battle was not there. This arena was maddening.

The Dragonian bellowed loudly in a combination of pain, frustration, and pure anger. Where was his opponent? The only thing he felt like doing now was tearing whoever it was limb from limb. The sounds of people screaming as the bull rampaged through the Bazaar was somewhat comforting, but it meant nothing to him if he couldn’t hunt down and kill his prey. “Where are you?!” He screamed at the sky.

[Enigmatic Immortal]

Jensen laughed to himself as his plan was taking fruitful leaps and bounds better than he even anticipated. The look on the paladins face was sweet broken anger. His eyes frantically looked for whoever was orchestrating this event and the Immortal gave a mock bow to his turned back as he prepared for the final phase of his plan.

Despite a stampeding bull the people moved back to the street as normal and Jensen moved with them, acting like an idiotic pre-programmed robot to draw no attention to him. As he crossed the path way he entered into an ally and found a small urchin sitting with is knees drawn up to his chest and a small piece of bread in his fingers.

“Hello there, child,” Jensen said happily. “Would you like to do me a favor?” The child was a little girl with dirty blond hair and blue eyes that shined despite the crap hand life dealt her. He pulled out all his money and dropped it before her, taking his sweater off long enough to drop the vest upon it. He put the sweater on again and made sure his knife was ready.

While he was doing this the girl played with the gold and put the vest on like it were a life vest. She peered up into his eyes with those blue orbs and Jensen playfully ruffled her hair feeling the dirt and grime build up between his fingers.

“What do you want me to do mister?” She asked innocently.

“I want you to watch me walk down the street, and when I get half way towards this big ugly monster looking thing I want you to shout and call him a freak and anything else you can think of that would insult him. Whatever the hell you can come up with. Then when he comes after you I want you to tell him Jensen Ambrose would like to thank him for the opportunity to humiliate him. Turn and run for you life after that, and never see my face or his again, got that?”

The girl nodded.

Jensen patted her on the head one last time as he walked out back to the street and kept his posture neutral. He felt the weight of the weapon clear as day now, and he resisted the urge to laugh as he moved about with a crowd of nobles. He stayed on the edges to avoid eye contact and watched through the sideways glance of his eyes where the warrior was.

When he was half way to his target the curtain rose.

[MetalDrago]

“Monster! Freak! Doodie-head!” MetalDrago heard these words, but they barely registered with him anymore. He turned and looked at the small child screaming at him, and walked toward her slowly, already beaten and broken in more ways than one, but to let a small child insult him in such a way… it was more than humiliating. It was an outrage. With a strength he didn’t think he had, he sprinted toward the young girl with the most speed he could muster. He stopped and looked down on her, his unbroken hand grasping his sword resolutely. No matter what she said next, she would inevitably die.

However, he then heard something different. His eyes registered something akin to pride in the little one’s eyes, as if she had done her job perfectly. “Jensen Ambrose would like to thank you for the opportunity to humiliate you.” She then turned and ran as fast as she could, but MetalDrago wouldn’t let her. He started to follow her, his eyes intent upon his target. He’d squeeze the location of this Jensen out of her, even if he had to torture her. But then, he realized what she had said. As if she had done it on cue. He tried to turn around, but it was already too late.

Thousands of battles in the Citadel, and this had probably been the most one-sided of all. He’s fought many strong opponents here, many smart ones, but never had he fought one that only had to attack once to win. The sting in the back of his neck told him that his opponent had hit his mark dead-on. MetalDrago struggled to turn his body around to get at least one look at his opponent before he blacked out. All sound quickly fled from him, all vision soon followed, and then, he couldn’t even feel anymore. He’d lost. In the most humiliating way, he’d been defeated by a man who he never even got to see.

Memories danced past his closed eyes, like half-dreamt dreams, and then nothing. There was only one thing he could think as he slipped into unconsciousness: Critical Failure.

[Enigmatic Immortal]

Jensen felt the body slump down in the ground and the weight nearly dragged it down with him. He laughed, laughed wildly as he saw the broken body of his foe before him, bleeding out his neck as he wrenched the weapon free from it’s fleshy and scaly prison. Joy abundance danced across his eyes and he laughed so hard to know this fight was probably one of the most entertaining waste of time he ever experienced.

“I thank you,” he whispered into the corpse’s ear wiping the dagger clean on the hair of his foe. “That was quite titillating.” he joked tossing the dagger on the ground as he walked towards the edge of the bazaar where he entered from, seeing the portal open up.

He left the citadel and the monks looked to him with suspicion. There was no blood on Jensen, there was no gore save the violence caused by the paladin of N’Jal. Jensen lifted the sweater over his head and tossed it to a monk as he waltzed down the marble hallways of the Citadel and towards the outside world.

He hummed to himself a little happy tune, thinking of what a great day it was as he looked up at the sky, feeling satisfied.

“Good day,” he whispered to himself smiling brightly.

[Silence Sei]

Judging Time!

Drago [/b]

Story (15/30) ~ There was no real story here, other than Drago wanted a fight. Taking the character into account, that's enough for an average score.

Character (10/30) ~ Though seeing Drago so humiliating was funny, I find it hard to actually imagine someone like Drago continuing to indulge the silliness when he could have just admitted defeat and left. Though that's not usually in his character, neither is indulging the home alone-esq antics that went on here.

Mechanics (20/30) ~ The mechanics here were better than what I've read of Drago in the past. You're obviously getting better with your writing style, keep up the good work!

Wildcard (9/10) Only a one point away from perfect because while I found this thread so damn funny, I once again couldn't grasp Drago just letting this stuff happen. It'd be more in his character to run through the entire bazaar, hacking and slashing everything until he found Jensen

Total 54/100

[u] EI

Story (15/30) ~ Same as Drago. Given Jensen's pension for just enjoying the fight, you got an average score here.

Character (20/30) ~ Jensen is an asshole, through and through. He will also use whatever he has at his disposal to be an asshole. While Drago's part of the story left me second guessing the character, I asked myself 'is this really something Jensen would do?' Then you stole money out of a safe and I said 'Yes.'

Mechanics (10/30) ~ There were several spelling errors in your posts that caused me to re-read the sentence they were in. I was informed of the conditions of this battle, but you may want to still run the posts through MS Word and double-check behind its spellcheck capabilities. I'm assuming that's what Drago did here.

Wildcard (10/10) ~ You got the additional point because it actually fitted Jensen's character to be doing such actions in the battle. Be a douche as much as possible before going for the kill. Is that Jensen Ambrose? Hell yes.

Total: 55/100

EI gets 1000 exp, 100 GP, and an exact replica of that sweater waiting back at home for him, courtesy of citadel monks. Sweater can not be sold.

Drago gets 300 exp, 50 GP, a set of broken fine china, and a torn red cloth for enraging bulls. The china pieces can be sold at the bazaar (though I imagine for not much), but the cloth can not.

Good job gentlemen, this was a completely fun read that really brightened my day!

[Taskmienster]

Exp and GP added.