The Quickening

[Dissinger]

Closed.

Seth entered into the halls that had always accepted him for who he was. It mattered not what he had done, what sins stained his hands. All that mattered was that he had come, and was willing to fight. The halls of the Citadel were a welcome sight to the aged thief, who had become far more than his titles. Seth Dahlios had come for one fight, something to relive the olden days.

Moving up to the counter he smiled at the monk standing there, who held a blank sheet of parchment quill at the ready before the man nodded and spoke, "How can I help you?"

"I came for one last fight, one last trip down memory lane. I have a feeling in the future I won't get a chance to get back here ever. I don't mean just any fight though; nowadays I'm too strong, lived too long to actually get much of a challenge. I need something to even the score, but not so much that my opponent can walk over me. I want to earn a victory, just like I want them to have to earn it too," Seth said explaining. The monk nodded sagely jotting down some notes before he sighed and looked at the parchment.

"I believe we might have just the thing. What would you like the theme to be?" The monk asked looking up at the Lavinian.

Seth considered the question, wondering just how to answer. The Lavinian Demon had embodied so many principles it was dizzying to think of any one thing to attribute this last hurrah to. He had seen victory, watched the bitterest of defeat. It was hard to define everything in one word, and that’s what he wanted to do. If he could theme this fight correctly he could perhaps capture what was missing in his life till now. Looking around he scratched the back of his messy brown locks before it struck him, and he looked up at the monk, "Sin."

"Excuse me?" The Monk replied.

"I want to theme this fight off Sin. I want the fight to deal with sin, either in living in it, or overcoming it. I don't care; just want Sin to be the deciding factor in some way. And I don't want to know how either, make that a surprise," Seth said firmly. He slapped the top the counter excitedly before he nodded feeling the adrenaline rush through his system for the first time in awhile.

The monk nodded before he handed Seth the parchment rolled into a scroll and spoke, "Take this to any door lacking a paper and put it upon it. Count to five and go in, for your sake, don't read the parchment and your surprise will remain intact."

Seth nodded feeling that roguish grin light up his lips before he gave a casual two finger salute to the monk and echoed his thanks. The Lavinian moved down the hallways finding his mark and pinning the scroll upon it. Silently he counted and upon five he opened the door. His eyes took a bit to adjust from the torch lit hallways to the new arena, but when he looked upon it, he could only grin in respect. This was exactly what he wanted it to be.

Here was a den of vice and sin, and only in using sin, could one get ahead.

Stretching before him was a warehouse, left wide and open. Lights littered the ceiling in equal intervals, casting their rays of light down upon him. His boots echoed in the empty air, as he moved about the area looking about. Fourteen strips of lights hung from the walls on either side of the arena. Each held above it a sign that simply listed off the various deadly sins, from which all other sins were created.

Wrath, Gluttony, Envy, Lust, Avarice, Sloth, and Pride hung above each strip of lights that seemed to remain stubbornly off. Seth didn't know what they represented but he was sure by the end of the fight, he would have the answers he sought. Perhaps in doing this he would find out which of the sins he held closest to his heart, and which he had finally cast off into the darkest nights. He knew this would be interesting, and as he continued to walk about Seth couldn't help but feel the excitement, until he saw his dagger belt was missing.

He frowned thinking upon it, and realized the comfortable weight had been missing since he entered. This had to be part of the fight, and so he accepted it, knowing damn well the monks were not thieves. Many a time they had a chance to rob him, and they had not taken as much as a copper. The thief had been paranoid at first, but time only repeatedly showed him the error of such thoughts. Waiting for his opponent, he continued to look around, drinking in the scaffolding against the back of the warehouse. Of the stairs lading to what had to be the offices of the warehouse. Yes, everything was as it should be.

He wouldn't trade this for the world.

[Enigmatic Immortal]

Jensen Ambrose had walked once more into the Citadel, feeling the tension in the building as a tangible object, curling his fingers in anticipation as if they held some sort of magical secret. Several warriors had gathered around the front bar area, a hushed whisper moving upon rumor mongering lips. It seemed someone of name had entered into the hallowed halls of the building and wasn’t just here to fight. No, this tense feeling was of someone who was here to end a legacy.

A trickle of excitement, a small spark of energy pulsed outwards from warrior to warrior as they all looked up and pointed to one room in the available battle slots. It seemed all fights had been postponed, or more likely nobody had decided to create one or engage in theirs. Jensen curiously lifted his head up and saw the reason why.

Seth Dahlios

Jensen’s heart began to race, his lips curling into a smile. The immortal shifted softly between the throng of gathered people, his blood pounding in his ears as he managed to squeeze past two large barbarians and reach the counter. The Ai’Bron monk turned to the immortal, they meeting more than once before. He saw that look in the knight’s eyes, that hunger for battle every warrior had felt at the current moment. He lifted up his hand, placing it upon the smooth, polished granite surface as he reached his hand towards the quill. The monk merely shook his head, pushing the immortal’s hand aside.

“Come, I’ll take you,” he said, a mischievous smile upon his lips as he moved from behind the counter. The gathered warriors looked to the Knight of Apocalypse, some as if he were crazy, others in disrespect, thinking he shouldn’t be the one to have such an honor. Jensen ignored them all, feeling a terrible weight build up within his chest as he grew closer to the portal door. The monk looked to the immortal with a kind hearted smile.

“I would very much like to see how you handle this one, Jensen Ambrose,” the monk said calmly. He patted Jensen on the shoulder, walking back down the hall as he alerted the mass that he would open one of their rooms to allow those who wished to watch the fight a chance.

He looked up at the door, feeling a rush of inexperience hold him back. He was about to fight someone who was far stronger than he, and he knew it. Yet ever since the immortal had fought with Seth’s sister, Sarah, he had pondered what the two would do to each other when the time at long last came. Now that the time had come he couldn’t help but feel he had just stepped into a fight he was fundamentally unprepared for.

He loved it.

With a boisterous bow to the door he bent up, ripping the doors open as he walked into the warehouse, taking in every sight and sound. It was a stale air, foggy and smelling of sea salt. Several lights adorned the walls, but their were fourteen of them that did not shine, a silent defiance of the light. Each side of the warehouse housed seven of the fourteen lights, an original sin etched into the glass. When the door shut he felt significantly lighter around his waist, touching his hips and patting himself as he realized all his weapons were missing.

The feeling left him thinking he was naked, for not to have his throwing weapons and trusty punch dagger was a foreign concept. He began to suspect foul play, but quickly he dismissed the notion. Seth Dahlios was many things, but a coward? He thought longer about that, and concluded it was in the realm of possibility, but he highly doubted it.

He stepped into the center of the warehouse where it was most barren, several lamps illuminating down upon the cracked concrete floor. His boots echoed in the building, the soft pitter patter of dripping water from a leaky faucet adding to the feeling of aloneness. He observed the ways the catwalks ran, looking up to the office and mentally remembering its location in the room.

Another set of footsteps echoed behind, sounding ancient as the worn out leather clicked against the floor. Jensen didn’t fully turn, instead merely tilting his head all the way back as he looked into the eyes of a demon, the Lavinian Demon. He continued to walk, a wide berth of respect, but not so wide that he couldn’t jump out and attack him. The immortal watched his every movement, thinking of all the names he had associated with him. The boogieman, the Hex Mage, the Traitor General, yet right now all those names seemed dated, old and unfitting to the man before him.

Seth rounded the edge of the light, skirting it as his boots echoed in the warehouse. When he reached the outer point directly across from Jensen he turned, facing the immortal with determined eyes.

“You afraid, boy?” Seth asked, his voice a gruff tone, full of pride and a veteran’s edge of someone who has seen it all. A person who’s been there and done that. At last Jensen met a man who could look at all the pain he had been through, and reply with a simple ’that all?’

Jensen’s lips pursed into a bemused smile, showing no fear to the Lavinian. He didn’t fear Seth, not in the slightest. The legend had indeed endured his own pains, but so had Jensen. He wasn’t intimidated by Seth at all, either. He simply did not care for the demon and his triumphs, his failures.

“Don’t be silly,” Jensen spoke, his voice even and in control. “I no more fear you than I would my own shadow.”

In response Seth had merely echoed the grin on Jensen’s face. He eyed him once, taking in his every being. Then with a dark chuckle he replied,

“You should be.”

[Dissinger]

It was at this time Seth removed the leather duster, the hat that had covered him up. The Leather vest he had stolen off the dead body of a guard at the Zirnden in Scara Brae. The Changeling Amulet that hung about the leather clad gauntlets he had stolen from a museum in Radasanth. Reclaiming a Dahlios Family birthright in the process, and further it kept him deadly in this game of cat and mouse. His shirt was the same as always dirty white never to reach the clean white it had once held, so numerous the times it had held his blood, or that of an opponent. His leather pants were similarly ancient as the boots on his feet.

You could tell a lot about a person by their boots. A good pair of boots like Seth told a hundred tales, holding the dust of about every corner of the world. A quick glance at the upstart's boots showed a similar dusting, but none of the ancientness of Seth's boots. He had been around, but he hadn't stayed long enough to experience anything. He was seasoned, but not quite experienced yet. He kept that in mind as he thumbed his nose, remembering the boy was a warrior, he certainly held himself as such.

"Fear nothing, this is the citadel. Death means nothing here. I just get to fight an old fossil and show others why you aren't someone to fear, that's all," The enigmatic warrior said.

Seth snorted in derision at that comment. The boy had spunk, he gave him that. Instead he let the roguish grin light up his face before he spread his arms wide, in no openly hostile gesture, "You'd be surprised what you could live through…"

He frowned, seeing no energy, feeling no tug upon his soul. The crimson orb that should have formed was no longer present, and he now understood why he felt so giddy, his magic was gone as well. The Lavinian Demon would have to fight this one out as a true thief, rather than as a mage. That got the blood pumping, even if the spell had failed. However, sensing something was off the man rushed forward and began a flurry of punches, keeping his arms in as he began to lash out at the elder Lavinian. Each punch rocked him as he felt the fresh feelings of pain, and came to the second realization in as many minutes.

He couldn't block the pain.

Finally recovering, he thought desperately, Get me a damn knife now!

On it Seth, what's going on!? The grizzled voice of the spirit possessing the changeling amulet echoed in his mind as he fought to begin to parry and recover his balance.

It seems like every good part of my fighting repertoire has been taken away. This is going to be a rough fight Karel, Seth replied even as he fell back on the ground.

"That it Seth? That all you got? I'm shocked; perhaps you shouldn't have rolled out of the retirement home to play with the big boys if you forgot your dentures back on the bathroom counter!" Jensen replied throwing another punch at Seth who deflected the blow, even as the amulet about his wrist began to glow and slide like quicksilver across his hand, forming into a dagger.

"Don't count me out yet, kiddo…" Seth replied throwing a punch that rocketed the immortals face back in surprise, even as he reversed the grip on the knife and took up a defensive stance with blade in hand.

[Enigmatic Immortal]

Jensen looked to the knife, the weapon forming from the circlet around the thief’s wrist. The knight then proceeded to look down upon his own hands. He saw no weapon, no knife or throwing glaive, no sword or spear. With a glance upwards he took in Seth’s defensive stance, seeing the weapon ready to strike for a multitude of angles. He kept his body tight, not over extending any part of his body.

The immortal toed his boot along the smooth concrete, feeling it’s chilling mortar through the toughened leather. He made a half circle with his foot, rolling his shoulders back as he softly moved in place like a dancer. His hands swayed like in a breeze, side to side in opposite directions of the other. Feeling his body grow limber and ready he advanced forward, quickly as he gave himself wholly into this Caeiporiea fighting style.

He twirled in step, cart wheeling around the Lavinian Demon as he looked for opportunities. Seth followed his movements, his feet inching outwards only to rotate. It seemed the elder man had been in his fair share of fights to know how to leave weaknesses hidden. He grinned to Jensen, a roguish smile of someone taking great enjoyment of what he saw and Jensen voiced his thoughts.

“Do you find my fighting style funny?” the immortal asked, moving in and then back in a quick bobbing step. Seth merely chuckled his reply, relaxing his posture as he inched backwards.

“If we were in a dancing competition I’d feel terror at someone actually beating me in a fight.” the thief’s hand lifted up, blocking an incoming kick as Jensen rotated on his other leg, cart wheeling backwards and out of range. Seth made a few steps forward to exploit the weakness, but the knight held him back with a couple of probing kicks.

They both were moving now, trying to the circle the other like sharks quarreling over prey. It wasn’t really clear which warrior was moving or advancing, retreating or merely biding their time. Jensen looked up at the cat walks, seeing a long slender bar run across the bottom as a support beam for the central plates. He looked to Seth seeing the demon’s hunger for violence.

“I’ll admit it’s not conventional, and probably more on the esoteric scales of fighting.” Jensen smiled, rubbing the back of his head as he moved closer to a set of stacked boxes to his right. “Yet it does always offer me some simple pleasures.”

“And what would those be?” Seth asked, clearly entertaining the youth with his words. What Seth really was saying to the immortal was ‘keep talking like a dolt so I can stab you.’ Jensen observed his careful movements, seeing how his muscles tensed with each step he took. He decided to speak, feeling that he should enlighten the thief as to why he enjoyed the fighting style he favored so much.

“It gives me the greatest pleasure of wiping the grin off my opponent’s face,” he said casually, moving to the beat of a rhythm only he could hear. His eyes followed Seth’s boots, seeing their ancient dust collecting in the cracks of the beaten leather. At long last he smiled in triumph, a cruel chuckle escaping his lips as Seth crossed an imaginary line, the knight springing into action with haste.

One flip forwards, hands pressing down on the pavement as he pushed himself off and back onto his feet, turning profile and cart wheeling behind Seth as he swung horizontally to catch the immortal with the knife. Had the grip not been reversed, blood would have been shed, but luckily for Jensen it wasn’t and so he enacted the next stage of his plan as he leapt upwards, jumping atop a steel box along the edge before launching himself higher as he grabbed the support beam.

When Seth had turned around he received Jensen’s boot right in his mouth, pushing him away and into the stack of crates that he carefully positioned Seth into. The knight’s finger’s slipped off the pole and he landed in a crouch, returning to his fighting stance as he moved in harmony with his body. He felt an urge to charge, take swift advantage of the man, but instead he just watched, observing Seth.

He would learn of Seth Dahlios, and all his sins.

[Dissinger]

Seth lay back in the crates for a second, feeling the pain arch through his body. He felt a tooth loose and with careful exploration with his tongue confirmed the tooth was indeed loose, and about a good push shy of coming out. Not one to want any distractions he reached up and ripped the tooth out, before spitting out the coppery fluid that erupted in its wake and tossed the tooth aside, wincing slightly from the pain. He hadn't felt pain like this in awhile, and he attributed it to the arena, before that damnable grin lit up his face.

The boxes creaked and broke some more as he carefully got up. Jensen awaiting his return to the fight as a patient fighter, something Seth noted. However, as soon as he got to his feet and back into position, a loud claxon erupted across the arena. There was no telling how it had occurred; only that it had, and suddenly on the far side of the arena, one of the lights for sin lit up. This one bore the name Sloth, and Seth frowned upon seeing it.

Jensen moved in to take advantage, weaving and sliding about in his funny stance, only to get caught off guard by a boot hitting him in the midsection. He was done feeling his opponent out; the kid was smart, the stunt with the catwalk showed that much. He was also agile, that stunt told him that much too, but he was a talker, and it was time to shut him up for good. As the man was sent stumbling back a step or two Seth was right in his wake, slashing forward with the dagger repeatedly.

Unable to get solid footing Seth's opponent was forced to keep retreating back hoping with each retreat, and never getting solid enough footing to actually get an effective dodge. Seth continued the onslaught as he swung each slash getting dangerously close to the boy's skin as he did so a savage grin on his face, before Jensen ran out of room to evade. Suddenly with his back against the wall Seth let his predatory grin widen, showing his teeth before he muttered, "Just ran outta luck…"

Slice after slice rushed into the boy's body as he tried to cover up his vitals, tearing through the fancy uniform that Seth didn't even acknowledge. He drew blood with each slice and continued to do so until the knife became liquid once more and moved to his wrist again. At that point he was only throwing punches as he continued to try and keep his opponent off guard. Each punch thrown was ill aimed and timed, but the initial shock of the first punch allowed him a few more, before another claxon went off.

On the other side of the arena, across from the lights that had triggered when Seth got up another light lit up. This one held only five letters, but letters that defined the career of the Lavinian Demon.

Wrath.

[Enigmatic Immortal]

Blood poured forward from his lips as the thief backed away, the immortal’s body hunched over as he groggily took a few steps forward regaining his bearings. His stomach muscles ached and contracted, hindering his ability to stand to his full height as he felt a sharp tug whenever he tried. His upper arms felt deadened as well, the muscles sore from the beating he took, but in the end he was alive, and not out of the fight yet.

He wasn’t sure what the hell these sirens meant, but he glanced upwards to see two lights lit up, one on the left, and one on the right. On the left side of him was Wrath, a bright red that ominously illuminated the shadows around it, while on the right side he noticed the area was a bright green as Sloth was lit up.

Before he charged forward he glanced back towards Seth, nothing seeming to be out of the ordinary, but then again he wasn’t sure what these lights and claxons meant. A soft patter of rain fell upon the tin roof, echoing in the spacious warehouse as a flash of lightening darkened the room, showing the knight of Apocalypse his foe’s excited eyes. When it all returned back to normal the immortal cautiously stepped forward.

The first thing he noticed was a weight upon his right thigh, something dangling from his belt that he hadn’t noticed before. He kept his wits about, still looking to Seth as he approached cautiously, using his hand to feel a soft diamond shaped vial about as large as his hand made of some type of glass. He jingled it, hearing the swishing sound of liquid and he concluded it was a potion of some kind.

He glanced back towards the green light, seeing it’s presence like a hungry predator looking out towards him with a bored expression. Risking it he glanced to see a jade colored glass object, glittering golden letters surrounded by precious gems spelling out the word socors. It was an old dialect, one rarely used anymore, but he realized what it meant after racking his brain as he patted the vial softly.

He quickly surmised that this was awarded to him for accomplishing the feat of Sloth in battle, but he couldn’t recall exactly how he did this. As he thought to the vents that passed an image of Seth rising out of the crates flashed across his mind, giving him clarity. He felt his wounds gingerly with the tips of his fingers, feeling his pain at each tender spot and glancing to the word Wrath. If he received this vial for his Sloth, what did Seth receive for his Wrath?

He grinned wildly as he figured there was only way to find out, moving along the floor in a low sprint, aiming for Seth’s knees as he attempted to shoulder tackle him.

[Dissinger]

Seth watched the boy rush at him, and being in the better position jumped grabbing onto the catwalk above them. As the immortal rushed underneath them he let go, landing with a firm finality as he let the grin cross his face once more. Things were beginning to heat up in the arena as Seth moved forward slowly yet surely, even as the man began a spinning twist that saw his legs spread out in an attack that would have been painful to watch. This man was an enigma to the aged Demon, and that was refreshing.

Still, Seth wondered just how the arena worked. Two claxons had gone off, yet neither of them had really received anything. Seth was still armed with just his hands, and the man was by far superior in the art of hand to hand combat. He would have to bide his time for another go with the Changeling Amulet, and then figure out what the hell was going on. The chaos of the arena called to him as a siren's song, and unfortunately he didn't have time to decipher its alluring lullaby.

Still, the fact all this chaos was going on still made Seth laugh aloud, even as the immortal cocked his head.

"What's so funny?"

"We're both scrambling about like children with no toys," Seth returned. The immortal nodded as he moved forward, grin lighting up his face, as he began to kick and punch at the Lavinian. Figuring the pain was only going to get in his way, he let one of the kicks connect with his side. As it blossomed in his ribs he slammed an arm down upon it, barely having the presence of mind to do so. Finishing this he sent another punch that rocketed the immortal's face back before letting it go and slumping to a knee. "Gods be damned that hurts…"

It was then he finally noticed the change. He felt the tug of his soul in a direction he knew all too well. Apparently when he was taking stock of the situation he had not thought to check on his magic. Figuring he would have to go without, he was surprised to say the least when he realized the spell that had lead to the revelation he had none, was returned to him. Sensing a connection between the sin of Wrath and Seven Deaths he nodded purposefully even as he barely managed to get on his feet. Surely he had a bruised rib from that savage kick to his side.

Still he bided his time seeing the other man gently wipe the blood from his lips. Seth threw out, "Oh come on, I know you got more than that in you!" He was just getting warmed up, and this guy was already beginning to slouch from a couple of gut punches and a shot or two to the face?

Not on his watch, this fight was too entertaining to let end that fast.

[Enigmatic Immortal]

Jensen breathed in large lungful of air, his body aching from the pain he experienced from Seth’s onslaught. He flexed his knee out, gently running it along the ground before shaking it in the air. He bounced back and forth, the beat never stopping in his head as he watched the man taunt him, but Jensen let it slide.

The storm outside roared against the window panes, the droplets making tiny sounds like a demon’s fingers tapping at the glass to be let in. The light’s in the building flickered back and forth, but only the ominous lights to the left and right of the room seemed to remain stoic in this advance of the weather.

Both men looked to the other, each wanting nothing more than to go at it like jackals, ripping and gnashing their teeth at the other’s throats, but both also knew they were both far to advanced in combat to degenerate into raving lunatics. He let the echoes of the warehouse build up his chuckle as the immortal stepped forward slightly, Seth’s body going into a rigid defense position, taunting the knight forwards with one finger.

In a flash of lightening Jensen was on the move, his body running to the side. Seth moved to mirror his speed, and the immortal slid on the ground changing direction as he ran at Seth. The Lavinian demon grinned as he let his run round out and turned to meet him head on. When they met it was like two primal forces colliding, Jensen’s feet kicking upwards in a back flip lifting his feet up. Seth pulled back, watching Jensen land on his hands, holding himself as he fell back down bringing the heel back like a swinging axe.

Seth’s arms lifted above his head, holding Jensen’s boot up, and he snarled as he felt the weight from the blow and the pain surge through his arms. Unused to pain the demon didn’t seem ready with a normal counter, and that opening allowed the immortal to twirl inwards and shunt his foot into the demon’s chest.

Seth’s body rolled back from the impact, and Jensen’s body was back to a vertical base as he ran forwards, his foot whipping around in a series of violent round house kicks. Seth blocked two, maybe three before the knight’s momentum swung in his favor, the side of his foot connecting against the former thief’s jaw line. Feeling a solid connection Jensen dropped in low, lifting his clenched fist up into the Lavinian’s stomach, doubling the man over.

He gripped Seth’s matted hair, pulling it back violently as he brought his knee in, smashing it into the demon’s nose. A sickening crunch echoed in the warehouse, the gods themselves startled by the ferocity of the attack as another strike of lightening hit the building. A few of the florescent lights sparked out of life, their energy source overwhelmed.

Jensen wrenched Seth’s face back into position, bringing his knee up again two more times, hitting the demon’s mouth and bridge of his nose. He yanked the body up, feeling his knee muscles sore as he brought in a closed fist, punching over and over into the demon’s face.

“Ya alright there, gramps?” Jensen taunted as he held the last punch, letting his laughter bubble up in his throat and come out in a joyous choir of madness howling in mirth as fingers collided with flesh over Seth’s right eye. Seth’s body became a ragged doll as he stumbled backwards, stooping to one knee as a siren erupted over the warehouse grounds, blaring in the immortal’s ears like a trumpet of war. He let the sound fill his being, and he roared with it until it disappeared.

Jensen felt something heavy tug on his right leg, and he grinned dropping his fingers into the old, familiar worn leather grip of his punch knife. He pulled the weapon upwards, looking to his side of the wall seeing a bright, vibrant shade of pink illuminate the word Lust on the left side of where Sloth was. He grinned, saluting the sign with weapon in hand as he looked to Seth with determined eyes.

“This isn’t over yet! I’m just getting into the swing of things!” Jensen cried out, rushing forward with weapon in hand. Like a trained warrior Seth’s eyes assessed the weapon in the immortal’s hand, which was only natural. He observed the weapon, took in the design and calculated the reach quickly, but what he didn’t take into account was Jensen eccentric fighting style.

Like an insane clown he howled his amusement to the heavens, the warehouse echoing it, the claps of thunder accentuating the maddening laughter. The immortal feinted with the punch knife, instead bringing his knee up into the Lavinian Demon’s stomach. Seth doubled over again, the wind taken out of his sails as Jensen felt the climax of the adrenaline boil upwards. He moved quickly in time to the beat in his head, even going so far as to hum the tune. The knight twirled to the side of Seth, jumping and landing a scissors kick on the back of the legend’s head.

They both crashed on the ground, the pavement offering no comfort to either man as Jensen and Seth both let out a pained grunt. Jensen’s feet rotated upwards and he rolled standing up, jumping in the air and screaming his joy for the thrill of the fight as he brought one foot down upon the back of Seth’s face, just as it had bounced off the ground. He stood upon the back of Seth’s head, balancing the one foot as he slid off in a graceful twirl.

“Come on, Gramps, you‘re boring the crap outta me…” Jensen sassed, taking labored breaths as he grinned vilely looking upon the downed form of the so called monster.

Lightening flashed, thunder boomed and the building shook as the wind beat against the fragile frame like a horde of demons wanting to break into the warehouse, another siren erupting into the air as Wrath lit up in a blood red color.

[Dissinger]

Blood pooled upon the concrete. The body of the Lavinian demon rested lifelessly in the center of it, the corpse-like state seeming far too peaceful to ever be broken. Slowly the immortal prowled about the Lavinian, pondering just what was going on before another Siren lit up. Looking at the lights on his side he frowned, seeing nothing appear to light up on his side. Jensen had managed three of the seven deadliest sins that the world offered, and when he looked over his eyes widened to see something he had not expected.

In large yellow letters lay a single word, brightly lit up next to its brother Wrath, Gluttony.

He looked down upon the body as he scratched his head in bewilderment before he heard something, a rasping rumbling sound. It started softly but grew in tone with each passing second. He recognized that sound, he had inflicted it upon the enemies he had fought countless times. Something was off though, the pitch the timber, it wasn't one who had embraced madness. This laughter was something else entirely. This laughter, was of a man who was pleased, happy with the state he was in.

Slowly the body began to move, and Jensen jumped. Attempting to stop the Lavinian from rising once more, Jensen slashed out before with speed that should not have been possible, the blow was not only deflected, but turned upon the owner. Jensen grunted feeling the pain of being slammed into the concrete enter his frame, before he looked upon the face of Seth Dahlios, the face he had trod upon only moments before. The face was a bloody mess, beyond the repair of mundane medicine, yet smeared across it in a sick and twisted light, was a grin.

"I didn't think you had it in you punk," Seth breathed, blood falling upon Jensen's face as a cruel chuckle escaped his lips. The immortal moved to avoid any of the flow pouring into his eyes before he looked up and saw the bracelet about the gauntlet mold once more. Forming into a knife Seth looked upon the blade with a sadistic grin before he spoke softly, "Luck's run out…"

Rather than stab the immortal then and there the Lavinian slowly pulled the immortal up before he began. A series of kicks followed by slashes that sang to the rhythm only a soldier could appreciate as he moved, no longer hampered by the pain. His nerves had finally shunted out that blasphemous white noise, and now he was content to fight despite everything that Jensen Ambrose had thrown at him. The immortal seemed in blind shock as with ever punch, ever kick, every swing he laughed aloud, as a child playing in the school yard.

The immortal saw an opening and kicked at the man, only to find the blow was ignored and a punch sent rocketing at his jaw. His mouth felt the coppery taste of blood begin to fill it, and before he could even get a breather to spit the Lavinian was upon him once more. The Demon was using a highly sacrificial style, because he didn't seem to care about what damage he took. Instead, Seth seemed to relish in the pain, reveling in its intricacies, before unleashing it upon his foe. The knife cut and stabbed going for crippling strikes rather than deadly blows. Blood began to pool upon the concrete pouring from the wounds of both fighters as they continued to go at it. Soon Seth was forced back by a flipping back kick that he managed to spot in time.

He looked at his opponent before he spoke, his words echoing through the room, "Hey buddy…" The Immortal looked at him confused for a moment, "…you'd be surprised what you can live through!" With those words Seth rushed forward and sent out a punch low and into Jensen's gut. Red Energy cascaded down Seth's arm, dancing along the blood stained clothing, while allowing the demon to chuckle darkly in his ear, "Seven Deaths may be too much for you…"

Pushing the immortal back to work his way through the illusions he looked down on the bloody mess that was his opponent. It was hard to tell where Seth's blood began and the boy's began, but it was there in copious amounts. As more blood began to flow from wounds another light turned on its siren wail hearkening to Seth's inner demons. He didn't even need to look at the pink light to figure out which one he had triggered…

Lust.

[Enigmatic Immortal]

Jensen watched in horror as the tables began turning violently, the knight unwittingly unleashing the primal power of Seth Dahlios into the warehouse. One of his most trademark legendary traits was the man’s ability to ignore pain. And not just ignore pain in the ‘whoops I’ll think about that later‘ fashion, but flat out ignore the aches and pains. This quality was the key to the man’s success, nothing anybody could ever do would phase the man, and Jensen felt a mind numbing buzz in the back of his head. A small voice; A nagging sprite of malicious intent speaking over and over in a cold, cackling laugh.

You set this loose…This is your fault…

Then the former thief used one of his infamous hex spells, red energy slamming into the immortal’s body as the energy ran its coarse through his veins, each ripple of vivacity sending a sharp pain through his body as he slumped to his knees and finally to his face. He experienced a pain that was akin to death, but forcing every ounce of his will the immortal pushed back against the hex magic. Seven Deaths was powerful, very powerful indeed, but it didn’t have power over those who had already died.

At least, that was what the immortal thought.

Jensen felt the vision breaking through his mental barrier, his own life being tossed before his very eyes. First he saw torrents of fire ripping his flesh off, burning him away as his skeletal hand gripped his face, tearing the flesh off his cheek as he pushed through the vision. He breathed a deep breath, and the vision swirled in a flood stream, water splashing into his face as he felt his lungs collapse. He pulled his body up, willing it forwards as he screamed out into the air. When the flood receded he saw a dark hooded figure with a scythe stand before him, weapon raised as if ready to strike. Jensen felt his body grow stiff, fear gripping it’s muddy talons around his mind as it clawed to break him, tearing him limb from limb. He shook the visions away, but the hooded man stood forwards, lifting his weapon and striking. Jensen’s eyes popped open, a scream eliciting from his lips as he fell flat on his face, breathing in large gulps of air.

Jensen lay in a pool of his own blood, but he knew he breathed and lived. Death had no sway over those who did not fear it, and in all honesty Jensen would have embraced an ending to his immortal curse. He felt a gripping calmness quell the rippling red energy, a peace emanating over his twitching carcass as the violent spell ended. Disappointment clouded in his eyes, a slack jawed stare as he drooled onto the pavement, blood pouring down the sides of his face and into his gaping mouth where it dripped out off the tongue like tiny lemmings at the tip of a cliff.

Rain slammed now against the windows, large chunks of hail it seemed as the tip-tap sound was replaced with a pounding crescendo of a primal force trying to break in. It had seemed the more sins the two performed, the worse the storm got, and currently both men were reveling in the debauchery of mankind’s failures. Lightening struck the warehouse again, and this time all the lights in the building shuddered their final breaths before giving out. The storm’s rain was the only sound, aside from the soft chuckling of Seth in the corner as he watched Jensen.

A claxon erupted into the air, and the Lavinian demon causally glanced to see that Jensen’s side had brought forth a yellow hew into the dark lit room. The letters of Gluttony peered their judging eyes upon the warehouse and Seth laughed seeing it.

“Eye for an eye, punk.” he taunted, looking down upon Jensen. “You done already?” he called out. Jensen didn’t move. He willed his body to function, but it stubbornly refused. The immortal fought for control of his body, willing it to stand, but all he could do was watch blood seep outwards on the floor before his glazed eyes. Lightening and thunder boomed against the building, the wind balefully pushing against the building shaking the rafters as Jensen felt the world slowly lose focus.

Jensen wheezed painfully, the onslaught of Seth to much for him to handle. His body was beginning the process of shutting down, death preparing to take its toll. This was the end. No heroic speech, no maddening laughter, nothing. Just Seth watching and Jensen bleeding out. He calmed his thoughts, avoiding the panic of losing in such a humiliating fashion. He had an answer, he had a solution, but he first had to do some basic movements. If he couldn’t move his body, he would do something else. He bent his entire willpower into his eyes, his head throbbing in pain as he blinked once. The sensation sharpened the world around him, fighting off the effects of death. A shuddering painful breath drew in from the act, and Jensen blinked again.

The effects of bleeding away into the nether was slowly fading away, and Jensen willed himself to blink, just simply blink. He did it again. Now that he returned his vision he looked down to his outstretched hand next to him. The immortal noticed a black glove was upon his flesh, silver plates wrapped over the knuckles. He mentally thought about the gift of Gluttony, the sin granting him punching gloves. It made sense, he used his fists when he got punch drunk, and he would be using them again very soon.

Pain wracked through his arm as the nerves tingled back into life, his fingers clawing into the blood, raking trenches in the crimson pool. He felt his fingers nimbly move around on his other hand, and Seth just chuckled more, clapping slowly for the immortal, trying to get him to rise with his support. Painfully he groaned, muscles twitching violently as he pushed himself just to his side. It was rather pathetic to see him like that, a beggar with nothing left merely trying to roll over. It took all his concentration, but he was on his side. He fumbled with his hand, trying desperately to make the dexterous digits bow to his whim as looked upon them.

Shakily he brought the hand down, the immortal’s face a bloodied mask. The fingers gingerly touched the tip of the elixir bottle, taking several attempts to grasp it securely in his hands. Seth wasn’t moving to stop him, and Jensen knew why. He was fulfilling his own sin of Sloth at the moment, the same way Jensen watched him when he had the perfect moment to end the battle.

He pulled the vial to his lips, his other hand weakly twisting the cork. It took a long minute, his bloodied, sticky hands falling off the vial. At last he uncorked it, and greedily drank of the elixir of Sloth. As soon as the first drop touched his lips a rush of warmth washed over his limbs. He hadn’t even realized he had grown numb from the cold, his breaths creating small clouds of vapor. That warmth turned to a burning sensation, and Jensen rolled to his back, arching in agony as he howled out in suffering. The burning sensation never ended, his muscles constricting and spasming violently. He breathed out his mouth, feeling hot smoke escape his lips and nostrils as he curled his fingers in unending pain.

Then he felt a sensation he hadn’t in a long, long time.

The burning sensation faded, eldritch energies pulling him back to his feet. Jensen slowly brought himself up, first to a knee.

“Oh?” Seth said, a guffaw of mirth escaping his patient lips. “You still get up?” he watched Jensen stand upon his feet, fresh vigor in his body as the elixir pulsed through his body. Before long he was moving in rhythm to his beat once again, and another siren erupted in the warehouse, the storm’s rain turning into a tornado of violence as the lightening struck the warehouse multiple times. The ground flashed white for several seconds, the maddening grin of Jensen matching the haunting features of Seth’s bloodied smile as the two prepared for the next round.

[Dissinger]

The immortal shook off Seth's illusions to come back. He could see the unfocused eyes trying to look about him, and this was the first sign that he had a true opponent. When he managed to blink and refocus, he knew the man at least had some willpower left. The ability to uncork and drink a bottle of what he could only surmise was a healing potion, told him that this man was determined. Finite resources spent on a fight that had no consequence? This man had pride, perhaps guts too…

…and Seth was going to figure out what they looked like by the end of this.

The two locked up again, this time the man coming out with a right cross that would rocket Seth's head to the side. He felt a tooth loosen with the blow as he staggered back and frowned spitting out the blood. He looked back at the man before a grin lit up his face. This guy was packing some power behind his punches, now that they were weighted to feel like hammer blows. Things were going to get interesting, fast. As the Immortal closed the gap Seth began to deflect the blows, imagining them as knife strikes as best as he could. The parries weren't perfect, since the weight was no where near equivalent, but it was turning haymaker punches into bruising blows.

A knee was brought up only to be blocked by a similar attempt by Jensen. Seth used the situation to push back gaining some room as both men seemed to chuckle, coming to the same conclusion…

…they both fought dirty as hell.

Jensen came in again this time dancing to a rhythm as lighting flashed. Hearing a distinct clink of metal upon metal Seth already knew what he had gained from Lust. The Familiar weight, the location, the sound they made, just as it was hard for a parent not to recognize their child's voice, so was it hard for Seth to forget one of his knives. As fingers looped through a metal loops he said coolly, "Yeah, don't mind me if I pass up this dance."

Three Lung Poppers we flung with all the force the injured Lavinian could muster. He was certain they still had the ability to pierce skin, but his strength was beginning to wane with the fact he was still taking damage. While it was true, Seth's ability to endure pain was legendary, it didn't magically fix the fact that if you shattered the bones, or tore the muscles, he couldn't act. He just didn't bother telling anyone that last tidbit. He figured it was good to have an element of surprise in a fight, even if it was a pleasant surprise.

He then looked down at his hands before he shook his head and gripped for the Gift of the Magi, feeling the energies swirl about him. A grin crossed his face as he felt all the pain flush through his system once more, on its way out. Never before had he thought of it in that sense, but never before had it made more sense. His eyes held a flicker of life, as even with the demons howling for control he wrested it back quickly. Feeling the magical energies begin to wash over his system he promptly dropped to a knee, and began the process of purging the excess magic that had healed him.

More than used to the process he gently wiped his mouth with the back of a gauntlet clad hand before he looked up at Jensen, a wary grin on his face, "So, you going to give me a challenge, or am I going to walk out of here without a blemish…"

For both men, the fight had just truly begun.

[Enigmatic Immortal]

Jensen felt his blood drip down the side of his arms and chest, the three lung poppers hitting home. When they were thrown, Seth didn’t seem to have any of the vitality he had at the start of the fight. This led the immortal into a false sense of security, rushing in only to find the demon’s strength returned after a vomiting fit. They squared off and lightening flashed in the sky, thunder echoing down the hills and slamming into the warehouse quaking it. He pulled the throwing weapons out with a grunt, dropping them on the ground and kicking them away.

Soft, maddening laughter echoed out from the knight’s mouth like the breath of a dragon, a vile chuckle of a deranged madman. Smoke vapor rose into the air as the building temperature seemed to lower, the hellish prison the two fought in lit only by the deeds of their sins. He glanced at the sins he found; Sloth, Wrath, Gluttony, Lust. He grinned to see them, giggling like a parent who was proud to see his children as they watched ominously from their seats inside the light booth. Seth also seemed to be glancing to his own inner demons on his side of the wall, both men enjoying the slight pause. A surprise assault from either man was just not worth it anymore, as they both learned the other’s tricks far to quickly.

The immortal took note that Seth tapped into his Hex Magic, healing up all his wounds and nullifying everything that he had done to the Lavinian. A frustrating prospect, but he paid it no mind. It was really no different than the elixir running through his veins that kept his body together. Yet how long he had for the potion of Sloth to work before it gave into its namesake and drained out, he didn’t know. That left him one very simple, logical, conclusion. End the fight, and fast.

The Knight of Apocalypse had lost his punch knife in the onslaught from earlier with Seth, and groping his body quickly he had found three small throwing knives in hand, his gift of Wrath. With the legendary abuse the man could take, Jensen wasn’t sure he had enough. It would have to do, he resolved, gripping one handle in a reverse grip and bringing the other up in neutral hold. The immortal’s eyes watched as Seth cocked his head over to observe the younger fighter, standing tall and prideful, that same characteristic trait that all Lavinians shared.

In a flash of lightening both men were snarling as they closed the gap, Seth’s hand gripping the wrist of Jensen’s reversed gripped dagger, the other hands pushing into the other as both men tried to go for the same gut punch. The knight’s knuckles had turned white, pain running through them as he felt his nerves being pulled taught like a rope. He cringed and winced in the pain, but pushed back with all his willpower, not backing down to the boogieman, Seth. He let out a whimpered cry of mirth, pain etched in the tone as Seth smiled to him, bringing his head back.

Bingo… Jensen thought, his tongue licking his lower lip in anticipation.

He twirled inwards as Seth brought the head butt attack in, the immortal’s back pressing against the demon’s as he bent over, the former thief’s hand still gripping onto his wrist tightly. He let out a moan of surprise as his dusty boots left the floor, back slamming on the ground. Jensen dropped to both his knees, pushing his free hand on the pommel of the reversed grip knife. The tip of the blade was mere centimeters away from Seth’s eye as he cursed blasphemous words of spite, using all his enhanced strength to push back. Jensen lifted up from his knees to a widened stance, putting his entire being into stabbing Seth through the eye.

“Persistent…bugger…aren’t…you!” Seth spoke determinedly, the words seethed out through his clenched teeth, his position not allowing him to draw upon much of his strength. He brought his other hand in to brace himself, keeping the dagger away as Jensen pushed with all his might. Securely holding the immortal at bay Seth took in a deep breath, shoving his head to the side as he let go of his hands, the knife slamming down quickly. Blood glistened in the light of the gods, a strike of elemental rage striking the building as a few sparks erupted off the ground. Seth rolled to his hands and feet, pushing himself up as he brought his hand out.

“Karel I need a-” but the former thief never finished his sentence, Jensen rolling with him after the strike, abandoning both blades to the ground. He brought himself up in a low crouch, grabbing the Changeling Amulet from Seth’s wrist, and pulled with all his might. The weapon shined as if trying to accomplish Seth’s request, but after the grip of the immortal’s fingers pried around it the spell was broken. He lifted himself up, dropkicking Seth in the chest and pulling the amulet off the Lavinian Demon.

Both men soared away from each other, Seth slamming into a stack of crates and Jensen rolling on the concrete with a wet thud, his body moving through the blood he had leaked not moments ago. He lifted up the Changeling Amulet in a showy fashion, laughing hysterically as he placed it upon his own wrist.

Boy, that is the last mistake you ever make… he heard a voice sass inside his mind. Jensen looked to the amulet, feeling a thrill of terror knowing full well the implications of what he just did. He stole one of Seth’s legendary artifacts. Question was, now what?

Another siren echoed over the warehouse, the wind shattering the glass in the building as lightening struck inside the building, hitting one of Jensen’s sins, illuminating it in an eerie golden glow. The words looked down upon him an approving way, but the way it did so made the others sins appear aloof, or disinterested in the deed he had just performed.

He let his fingers slenderly move down his body to his last throwing knife, gripping it as he grinned devilishly to Seth, the golden aura of Avarice shining behind the immortal giving him a soft glow.

[Dissinger]

Seth slumped in the boxes, feeling a bit of fatigue plague his form. He had been fighting for a good ten minutes now, and his energy was beginning to wane. No matter how much he tried, Seth knew even his limitless willpower could keep him going for so long. The exchange of blows, the thrill of reveling in their newfound toys, all of this was secondary to the objective. That one fact both men seemed to forget in the drive to sin further. Much as their lives had been devoted to overcoming their flaws, here they were on display, encouraged and rewarded for giving into their primal urges.

Slowly the Lavinian got up, feeling the wood fall from him. He couldn't feel the pain, his own immunities to such things ignoring it as water off a duck's back. He looked over at Jensen, who looked at his prize, the solidifying amulet in his hands. He looked back to Seth, a crazed look of euphoria on his face as the siren blared once more over the men. In golden letters Avarice lit up on the warrior's side and Seth grinned softly, a grin that only showed teeth. Looking at the Immortal he gestured to the amulet, "You got five seconds to give that back, or I'm going to rip it from you and then kill you as painfully as I can…"

The immortal laughed at the comment, before he lowered a hand to his belt. Seth knew what was going on before the Knight did, in drawing the throwing knives he had given away his plan. In looking at the thief, he had given away his intent. In throwing the blade he had committed to action. In releasing the blade, he had committed the biggest mistake in the fight. Had he any more knives to distract the Lavinian, surely one would have landed, or Seth would have just taken the blows. Instead, in throwing a solitary knife, he watched in amazement as Seth caught the blade.

Seth then began to twirl the knife about in a theatrical display that would make any carnival clown jealous. His finger's never stopping as the blade took on a life of it's own. The immortal looked upon Seth with a mild look of surprise, and in the moment he went to open his mouth, Seth threw the blade. The man was somewhat predictable in that he would taunt his opponents with a barbed tongue. Seth was much the same way, so he knew when a quip or bit of acerbic wit was on its way. The blade sunk Into flesh before Seth casually pulled out the lung poppers, lighting striking as he glanced upon the two left.

Tossing them at Jensen he rushed in. The man was forced to react to one or the other, in a move that would seem grossly unfair. Even as the knight began to react, Seth noted the man was far too slow, perhaps having spent too much energy in trying to off the Lavinian once and for all. That was the problem, Seth was a slow burn, and so he stretched a fight out as long as possible. Taunt the enemy, annoy them, make them blow energy on trying to make him suffer. Seth was able to bear the brunt of many a temper tantrum gone awry. What they didn't know, what he never told them, was that with each minute that went by, he was watching, waiting. He was thinking around the corner that would lead to their death.

When he had it figured out, he either offed them, or used Gift of the Magi to restart the battle in his favor. From there, he could dismantle almost anyone on Althanas. The only man who had come close to making him hit his limits was Letho Ravenheart. Even then, this kid wasn't even the dirt on Letho's boots. He didn't have what it took to understand the tactical decisions a battle required. Even something a trivial as a one on one encounter, required a depth of thought that would stagger any rookie fighter that entered the citadel. This guy had done his homework, and that was the only reason he was still alive. In the end, he just didn't have the ability to put that work, to work.

Gauntlet clad hand brought down to face, Jensen rocked with the blow feeling his face split open under the vicious onslaught. Seth grunted as a knee to the gut was blocked by Jensen's own knee in an effort to get rid of the Lavinian. The fight had gone feral as Seth pushed and forced Jensen to be unable to do his dancing fighting style. He moved quickly so Jensen couldn't try to draw a weapon, or counter back with many blows. Ultimately, when Jensen Ambrose had not finished Seth Dahlios in one hit, he had failed to win the fight.

Seth continued to pummel and beat at the man who was reacting as swiftly as possible. The exchange of blows going until Seth reached out, and grabbed for the Changeling Amulet. Feeling his hand grip the metal, he smirked to see the amulet immediately go to a liquid state where it flowed over his hand, and took form as a iron gauntlet around that hand. Seth smirked, pulling back from Jensen before he looked at the gauntlet. Nodding he looked up…

…just in time to see Jensen was already flying through the air. Seth took up a defensive posture, only to find no defense could fully stop the immortal's attack. Gripping the underside of one of the walkways above them, Jensen brought both feet forward in a drilling kick that rocketed Seth across the floor. He skipped across the floor, feeling a slight jolt of pain at the abrupt end when he hit a larger pile of crates and shattered through them to the walls. He remained down for what seemed like forever, even as Jensen laughed.

That was, until Seth's fifth sin went off.

A deep purple light lit up on Seth's side, showing the one sin that Seth held closest to his heart. There was no mistaking which one the Lavinian had succumbed to, for it was painfully obvious to anyone who had watched the match. Thunder struck the warehouse causing the walls to shake violently. Lightning arced from the catwalks until it discharged upon the ground, in some cases shattering and igniting the remaining crates in the warehouse. Jensen looked about him as the doors to the warehouse were torn off their hinges, the raging tornado that marked the nearing end of the battle. Wind whipped through the air, carrying with it the rain that pounded the ceilings outside as lightning flashed once more, and Jensen saw Seth standing amidst the crate.

In his hands, were two daggers.

These were no throwing knives, they were utility knives of the Akashiman ninjas, nor were they short swords or any other blade in the world. These were the type of blade that had made the Lavinian famous. These two in particular could have easily been mistaken for his first blades, but anyone who studied them would know the difference. The darker blade glinted in the remaining light from the sins, while the white one remained stubbornly dull. A grin lit up Seth's face before he raised an eyebrow and spoke, "You shouldn't have stolen from a Lavinian Thief, don't they teach you anything in basic?"

Lightning flashed, and the battle was joined once more.

Jensen tried to throw punches, get in kicks, do anything he could to tear Seth apart. The problem came that, the blocks he had been doing while seeming funny made sense now. The immortal had failed to take into account that Seth truly had no hand to hand combat experience. Had he pushed the advantage, perhaps he could have annoyed the Lavinian more. The problem was, now that Seth was armed, he was tearing into the man, and no amount of time would remove this advantage.

The blades continued to cut and slice into the immortal with a ferocity that matched the wrath in the Lavinian's soul. Jensen was put out of his misery as a timely slash finally removed the last bit of resistance the immortal could put up. As he collapsed to the ground in his own blood Seth snorted softly before he shook his head. Flicking the blood off his blades he sighed before he sheathed them muttering, "Kids, ain't worth the spit to talk…"

[Enigmatic Immortal]

Jensen’s vision blurred and faded black, his body arching upwards as blood sprayed along a vertical horizon. He felt his lips quiver, knees quaking upon an earth shattering impact as his entire body heaved from the chest wound. The immortal opened his eyes slowly, looking at Seth from his hunched over state. The Lavinian spoke words, something probably to taunt him, but he couldn’t really comprehend them.

The immortal’s eyes glossed towards his sins, learning what he embraced in the darker aspects of his life. Sloth, how fitting that be the first sin he commit. How many battles could the immortal have ended had he not been so lax in his fights? Lust, surly that made sense. He may not have given into a blood lust many times, but the maddening fits of laughter, the howling cries of mirth? Oh how he longed to be in that euphoric state. Wrath? It made sense, but it wasn’t what defined him, so it was fitting that it was one of the two last ones he achieved. Avarice even made sense to the dying immortal, for how many times had he stolen his own life, stolen the life of others for his own personal entertainment?

He noted that the sins of Pride and Envy were not lit. That made sense, ironically, for Jensen wasn’t a prideful man. He was eccentric, he was insane, he was a jackass and a jerk, but prideful? No, that wasn’t Jensen Ambrose. Envious? No, that wasn’t Jensen either. Just not his style to long for things of other people.

Jensen took in a shuddering breath, falling flat on his stomach, his face bouncing off the pavement as he saw a brilliant flash of white. Thunder echoed off in the distance, the sound foggy and so distant in his ears. He watched the feet of the Hex Mage shuffle in place before they turned and began walking away. The worn leather, the years of dust, all the experiences he had made manifest was walking away from the immortal, and shakily he moved one hand out to reach towards Seth.

The knight’s fingers clawed at the distorted image of the former thief, blood dripping out his mouth as he dropped his hand to the ground in defeat. He had no more will power to fight, no more energy to perform one last desperate attack. Jensen Ambrose was defeated by Seth Dahlios fair and square. Yet he couldn’t get a nagging feeling out of his mind. As he watched Seth walk towards the swirling mist of the forming exit back into the citadel, Jensen couldn’t help but feel he was watching a man leave for the last time.

“Hey…” he spat out in a guttural yelp, blood pouring out his mouth as his chest heaved in pain. He wheezed dryly, coughing up his lungs as more of the crimson life spilled out over him. The pain was excruciating, but if he didn’t stop the Lavinian now, he never would get this opportunity ever again.

“Hey…boogeyman…” Jensen weakly sputtered. He dribbled a bit of saliva over his lips, reaching out again as his nails clawed into the pavement. He looked up at the sins of Seth, seeing each one cast a baleful glow upon the legendary fighter. The rain had slowed down, the crescendo of lightening and thunder at last ceasing it’s unrelenting pounding of the warehouse.

Seth’s feet continued to echo as he walked, either ignoring the immortal, or not hearing him. Jensen pushed with all his might to prop himself up on his palms, filling his lungs with air despite the agonizing feeling of doing so as he called out again.

“HEY! GRAMPS!” He shouted, clutching his chest as he stumbled back to the ground to wade in his own life force. Seth’s boots stopped echoing in the air as he stopped, his face half leaning towards his foe. Jensen looked to the back of his head, trying to peer into the eyes he couldn’t see. “I…I got something…I wanna say…” he mumbled.

Seth shook his head as he turned, placing his hands upon his hips like a scolding father who was about to beat an ignorant son. He glanced at Jensen, lifting one hand up in a showing gesture. “You barely can stand, and you think you still can talk trash?” He snorted at the immortal. “Kids like you never learn to-”

“Shut up,” Jensen wheezed, interrupting the demon. Seth’s eyes narrowed a fraction, a sly smile creeping upon his face. Jensen pushed again, trying to lift himself up, but all he could manage to do was turn onto his side. Mentally he chastised himself, but he pushed back his frustrations as he worked with what he had. Chances were good he didn’t have a lot of time left if the encroaching darkness in the corner of his eyes was any indicator.

“You…you can’t leave the world yet,” Jensen said, fighting for all the strength he had left in his body. He looked to Seth, who cocked his eye in challenge. “This is no different than running away like,” Jensen built up spit in his mouth, the word creating a venom in his tone. “Like a coward.”

“What are you, crazy? The loss of blood getting to your head? I just beat the shit out of you,” Seth said pointedly as he motioned to all the blood on the ground that belonged to the knight. Jensen shook his head. Jensen’s eyes flashed with life as he nodded to Seth, agreeing with him. This in turn confused the Lavinian.

“Yes, exactly!” Jensen said happily, his head moving up and down without his will power to stop it. “You don’t feel like anybody in the world can, can stop you!” Jensen spoke rapidly, afraid to lose his train of thought to the loss of blood. “I saw it Seth when you fought! In your eyes I saw what truly is bothering you!” Jensen pointed to the man’s heart. “You don’t feel challenged anymore…”

There was an awkward pause as Jensen pointed to the man, his accusation either dead on, or horribly off. Yet Jensen didn’t feel like he was to far off on this feeling. “The big dogs in the world are fading away, giving up their mantles and leaving. Some return in a whirlwind of fire before leaving again, others content to stay in their hiding places, and now you as well Seth,” The immortal said softly. “Now you too feel the call of time whispering your name. That big shining light in the sky that will lead you away…away for ever.”

Seth relaxed his posture, crossing his arms over his chest as he looked to the knight as he bled out, his eyes never leaving their gaze from Seth’s. He breathed heavily, he was surly going to die any minute, but he spoke with a passion that Seth hadn’t heard in a long, long time.

“You feel like you’re the only one left in a world that would rather forget you,” Jensen coughed violently as he clutched his chest, the pain from the wound biting into his nerves and setting them on fire as he moaned turning onto his back. He heaved twice, letting his lungs fill with air again. “That nobody can touch you anymore…But you know what Seth?” Jensen asked. “The world isn’t over, it’s growing. We may not be ready yet, but people are catching up to you. Give us time, give me time, and we’ll surpass even you!” Jensen gripped one fist into a determined fist, holding it up over his head in triumph. “Don’t take your ball…and go…” Jensen’s fist fell limply to the side, his entire body numb and cold. He blinked shyly a few times, the blackness waning as it turned into light.

“Home…” his last breath trailed out, his eyes closing as Jensen faded away.

[Dissinger]

"Proud words for a dead man…"

The words echoed through the warehouse, the winds outside dying down, even the rain slowly disappearing. Seth moved forward slowly, each boot step deliberate before he crouched down and watched the last breath leave Jensen Ambrose. He looked the man over slowly and surely, even as he felt the tools of his trade slowly appear on his form. He saw other weapons make their way to Jensen's form, and he shook his head slowly before he began to get up, and stopped.

Sitting on the ground, rather than crouching he looked upon the downed form of the immortal before he spoke, seeming to let it all out, "You got it half right Kid. I do feel like no one can challenge me. I knew coming in here I was wasting my time, but I wanted to relive the old days one last time. Back then, you didn't give two shits about what was going on, you just did what you wanted and damn the rest. Perhaps I am getting too old for this shit, but you certainly are getting there too…"

He sat there for awhile, sure that anyone watching was in for a show, before he slowly pulled the sheathes of twin daggers from his belt. Tossing them onto the ground before Jensen he spoke softly, "They're yours. If you're going to surpass me, you're going to have to learn to use those, because just being a good fighter ain't enough. You have to surpass me at my own game…" He grunted, quickly rising before he looked down on the body, "Every generation there are two stars that shine brightest. My generation has me and Letho Ravenheart, the two old fossils of an expansionist era. The gods were in their heavens, and man himself was beginning to learn his place. Before us it was Findlefin Ap Fingolfin, an Elf who fought for his country with all his heart and soul, and even saved it once or twice. The other one, was Devon Starslayer, the man who killed a god with a sword made of metal no better than those knives. They were part of an era where the gods themselves trembled before the power of mortals."

He turned to leave before he stopped at the doorway, looking back at the downed form of Jensen Ambrose. His eyes held a mischievous glint to them before he spoke clearly, "There can be only two in each era. We're in an era of man, everyone wants to be the best, and they fight, piss, and moan for that title. They seek to tear down the old legends and erect new ones with themselves as replacements. As far as these 'Legends' go, I'm by far the weakest, and yet here I am, shining brightly for all to come and get me…" He looked to the walls before he snickered, "You by far pass all these apes who are watching this. At least you had the balls to step forward when everyone else was back peddling. Rather watch me fight and hope to learn how to beat me, rather than participate and gain that experience first hand."

"I hear there's a shining star in the sky of the new generation, some wizard calling himself Blue Raven. If he's one of the two, you better get to work buddy, cause there can be only one," Seth called before he exited the warehouse, and found himself standing in the corridors of the citadel. Many people were gathered about the door waiting for the fight to finish, even as others were rushing out of the nearby doorway, so they could see the victor come out in the flesh. Seth watched them all with disdain painting his feature before he gestured for them to scatter, "Get out of here roaches, you'll get nothing out of me!" They fled to the other parts of the citadel, some remembering fights they were supposed to be watching, others trying to shadow the thief.

He moved out to the foyer of the citadel, and saw the one thing he was certain to find when he got there. Standing in the center watching him with her foot tapping lightly on the flagstones, was an older woman. Her brown hair had the occasional grey streak, showing her age, even as Seth looked no older than when he had died. Her eyes spoke of amusement, even as her body was stiff and confrontational. Beside her was a young woman, who seemed a more contemporary form of the elder woman, except for one difference. Her hair was a bright white, and her eyes held the keen interest that lit up Seth's own. He moved to the two women before he let out a lopsided grin and spoke, "So how in trouble am I?"

"Ask your daughter, this was supposed to be a vacation for her birthday, not for you to go around beating people up," The woman replied firmly. Seth chuckled at the words before he looked at his daughter who put on a playful pout before she moved over and hugged her father.

"It was nice to see you fight; I could see what the teacher was telling me in the last moments of that fight. Though, I didn't want you to be gone so long. You owe me, big…" His daughter Samantha replied looking up into his eyes. He looked down in the orbs before his ruffled her hair and spoke plainly,

"Yeah, I suppose that was a rather jerk move on my part. I guess we'll just have to get you a bigger cake for your birthday." The girl raised an eyebrow at the comment before he sighed and shook his head. "Alright brat, I'll make sure to get you something good for your birthday as well…" She squealed hugging him tightly as he looked to his wife who was smirking the entire time.

"You think bribes will work forever?" She asked firmly.

"I know better than to assume that Angel. I'm just seeing how far I can get before I run out of money or worse, it stops working," Seth retorted. She chidingly slapped his shoulder as they left the Citadel. Seth had accomplished what he wanted to, and looking at the hallowed halls for what he felt would be the last time he waved to the monks and left.

Seth Dahlios loses the twin steel daggers currently in his profile, and gives them to Jensen Ambrose.

[Revenant]

Condensed Rubric requested. Dissinger in red, Enigmatic Immortal in blue.

STORY: (17/16)

CHARACTER: (17/16)

WRITING STYLE: (17/16)

WILD CARD: (5/7)

TOTAL: (56/55)

Dissinger wins.

Dissinger receives 3917 exp and 135 gp and levels to 14.
Enigmatic Immortal receives 1125 exp and 115 gp.

[Taskmienster]

Exp and GP added!

Dissinger is now level 14!