Dark Messenger (Closed)

[Enigmatic Immortal]

“Jensen do this, Jensen do that!” The immortal scoffed as he walked towards the Citadel of Radansath. His hands were pressed firmly against the back of his skull as he marched, an irritated scowl on his face. Once again he found himself following the footsteps he kept mentally thinking he would never walk again. He hated what the Citadel represented; immortality to those who wanted to test their skills. Well Jensen was already immortal and he knew that people who thought they couldn’t die would never really reach their potential. If the fear of death wasn’t creeping into their eyes and gripping their minds then the reserves of such a feeling the body kept hidden for those emergency situations would never uncork. It was just a useless exercise if a battle to the “death” was fought in the Citadel.

Growling angrily he looked to a rock and kicked it. The whole situation was brought upon when he was training with Ta’gaz a few hours prior. Jensen had been fighting the legendary warrior, feeling out for his new found martial prowess. The fight was quick, bloody, and over in two punches, one to the gut, and one to his chin. Ta’gaz looked down at him and said Jensen lacked worldly experience of a multitude of fighters. He looked to Stephanie, his lover and closest friend, and she merely nodded in agreement. Jensen just sulked out of the dojo and headed towards Sei’s room, where the Mystic had been babysitting his little girl, Azza. One look from the Telepath and he pointed towards the Citadel, telling him with his telepathy that Jensen was no good as a body guard if he couldn’t handle the myriad of warriors the world had to offer. It seemed like a damn conspiracy to him.

But as the immortal walked up the steps into the building of the grand Citadel he did feel a certain primal chuckle in the cockles of his heart. A little welcoming chuckle so-to-speak from a darker presence and Jensen felt the side of his lips curling into a smile. If there was one thing the Citadel hadn’t forsook the immortal it was always a good time. He had met William Arcus, his hated Rival, Sei Orlouge, and even the Boogeyman himself, Seth Dahlios at this coliseum of carnage. Today’s opponent would be another unknown, but Jensen didn’t worry so much about those details. The only thing that mattered to him was his arena and the malicious intent behind it.

He felt his feet walk upon the marbled floor, his boots clicking with each step. The breeze in the air was artificial, the enchantments to keep the place at a comfortable temperature generating a soft breeze. His fingers danced next to him as he felt the wind brush through his fingers. Lazily he turned towards the greeting desk, where he had found his favorite fat Ai’Bron monk sitting at his chair looking bored until he looked right at Jensen.

“Oh Thaynes be damned! Not you again!” He said far louder than Jensen was sure he intended to. The immortal stepped up to the desk, the back of his hair tingling in excitement as he felt the magical energies of the building form new rooms. Jensen tapped his finger on the oak desk, looking to the list of rooms currently available. He made sure each digit drummed the desk loudly, a bemused smile on his face.

“I suppose I can’t have a visit to the Citadel without my favorite room on the board,” Jensen observed pointing to a room he had seen since his first visit. A rainbow battlefield with a request for only male combatants. Jensen and the monk looked to it together, and without any coordination they both shook at the same time. They looked to each other and the monk quickly regained his bearings as he slid the paper to Jensen for him to write his room requirements.

“Nah, today is simple, I don’t want just a death trap this time!” Jensen spoke like a mighty orator in front of the masses, and he dipped into each detail with passion as he rose and lowered his fist at the appropriate moments.

“Today’s battle will be held in a crystal realm! I want to be surrounded by a sea of blackness that whenever myself or the foe fall in we are transported to a randomly generated location upon the battlefield. There is to be an island that is made of crystal, solid crystal mind you, this detail is important,” Jensen said looking to the monk, who looked at Jensen oddly before catching the hint and began writing furiously to keep up with him. “Make this island shaped like a twenty story dumbbell, and have it surrounded by six solid mini islands around it, three in the sea of darkness, a story high, and three floating stationary, about enough space for two men to move comfortably but not have to much breathing room.” Jensen waited as he tapped his foot, giving a chance for the monk to catch up.

“Anything else?” The monk asked. Jensen nodded as he looked to the door that would soon lead him to his vision.

“Yep, I want there to be crystal hexagon shaped steps leading up and around this place covering the gaps. Some of them I want to regenerate when shattered. The idea is these ones aren't solid so if an opponent goes through them,”

“It would be like falling through glass. Hmm, interesting,” The monk admitted. He was used to Jensen’s more insane filled arenas of mayhem like the butcher’s shop and the gladiatorial ice pit. This one was no less dangerous, but in a softer, more subtle way did it hide it’s dangers. Suddenly the monk thought of something. “You said two things, the other?”

“Yup, I want you to lower the gravity in the room to allow my opponent and I to jump a bit farther and higher. But I don’t want to lose traction either. Wait, just had a brilliant idea!” Jensen looked to the monk like a kid before a gift bearer. “Can you also make it so we have traction to run up the crystal wall?” The monk looked to him, and then nodded.

“SWEET!” Jensen cried out ripping the paper from the monks hand. “Send in the fodder whenever you find someone with balls to handle this!” Jensen called out running to his room, his excitement akin to a kid in a candy store.

[Duffy]

Duffy looked out across the crystalline realm with the wind in his locks and the fury of battle snapping at his heels. Dramatacism tended to follow him wherever he went, and he lapped up the chance to at least feel important as he climbed the stairs to the central column. The leery silence gave no impression of danger, covering the impending battle with a blanket of serenity and a twinkling backdrop of calm.

His footsteps seemed to fade into the hollow, his heartbeat into the night, his dreams, seemingly made real before his eyes, could not believe themselves. For so many days he had fought here, in the arena, training for the coming conflict on all fronts between the troupe's enemy's and Sei's, but not once had he had his breath taken away. After a few moments, he arrived at the centre of the central platform, and turned on a heel to lap it up one last time.

"Perfect," was all he could and all he needed to say. The sickly colour of the quartz and the glass surfaces reflected a hint of necrotic end back at the thief, and his white demi-cloak and bandages gleamed amidst the endless and infinite and incorporeal abyss that the platforms were suspended in. Somehow, he doubted his opponent would be so squeaky clean.

He withdrew Wainwright's Riposte from it's sheath on his waist and span it as the steel scrape echoing outwards in a paean of initiation. He tossed it several times, catching it's razor tip between forefinger and thumb and then it's hilt with delicate finger work and used the motion as a focussing mantra. Something, and he couldn't figure out what, didn't quite seem right.

He felt light, whimsical, empty. His heavy meal of potatoes, carrots, venison and gravy served in the company of the other nervous fighters had sluggishly impaled his intestines to the ground and his feet to the sand as he walked through the catacombs of the fighting arena, but here he felt angelic. "Hmm," he jumped a little, like a child testing a rickety plank or a log over a stream on a dawn ramble into the unknown.

He expected to land considerably quicker than he did. A jump that took a second took five, and he felt the ambient magic of the dome delicately bring his body back down to earth. "Haha!" He boyishly jumped again, and sprang twenty feet into the air. When his feet touched the crystal and spread hairline cracks along the perfect plane of glass, he wasted no time to leap with bent knees and kick up with all his strength.

The arena left him, and he span in a triple back-flip that would have made lesser hearted man throw up. As he came back down with a quicker pace from his momentum, he felt bile rise and his feet kick into the platform. It shattered slightly, cracking and crumbling beneath him.

"Oh tempest fate, you've gone given me 'eaven' and a dagger to smite down teh gods!" He cackled with good humour and sheer enthusiasm for whoever was going come through the door - for whoever was going to dance a midnight tango in an acrobat's wet dream.

[Enigmatic Immortal]

The place was perfect and Jensen felt his blood already singing. Not even three seconds into the arena and he could tell his steps had a lighter weight to them. He looked at the raked steps that led to the central column, wrapping around it like a coiling snake, hearing somebody having the most splendid of time as he flipped high in the air. He was happy to note that he had the greatest of ease landing, and the immortal felt an artist’s pride in seeing his work appreciated so. That being said, there was a time to gawk at art, and a time to smash it!

His boot tested the crystal columns side, and with a malevolent chuckle he stepped back, getting in a few steps before he ran at the wall and then up it. Each step he made was light as a feather, but he didn’t feel the tug of natural physics holding him back. Instead he tucked his head in and sprinted upwards, trying to get the top as quick as possible. A deep bit of laughter opened up in Jensen’s stomach and he let it out screaming his joy as he came out over the top.

“YEAH!” Jensen cried, flying high in the air, only ten feet or so, and flipping until he came down in a graceful bow before his opponent. “Welcome to my masterpiece!” Jensen said lifting himself up. He eyed the bandages of his foe, the white cape, and then something in his mind was attempting to warn him, like a third sense. Yet as he looked at his foe the thought never finished. Like a butane lighter low on fuel and clicking noisily he never felt the spark light in his head as to whom this person was, and why he knew them.

With a shrug Jensen dropped the matter, looking over the man as he eyed his movements. “Now that we are both here, I think we can just skip the pleasantries and get to what I do best!” Jensen twirled his fingers to his belt nimbly, tossing out a throwing glaive at his foe as his other hand reached over his belt and pulled out a knife. He ran towards the bandaged warrior with a maddening laughter that echoed in the crystalline arena, the precious material seemed to absorb his laughter and intensify his bellows of glee like a harp.

[Duffy]

The barrage of pomp as Duffy's opponent entered the arena with a grandiose announcement sickened even his sycophantic need to make his presence known. The wave of arrogance, cocky sure-stuff and dramatic flair to move told Duffy who his sparing partner was before he connected a name to a face. Ever since he had joined the Ixian Knights, or rather, been cajoled by the Fates into forging an alliance with Sei Orlougne's Paladin's of 'Good,' they had started to crop up everywhere.

He rolled his eyes and muttered Jensen Ambrose, but no sooner than he had done so, and no sooner than his opponent had dispensed with the pleasantries he found himself snapping his spine to the right to drag his lithe form out of the way of a glaive. With a cautionary glance to check that it wasn't embedded with trickery to come back around into his neck, he cast the man a cheeky grin and stoop upright once more.

"It appears you still ain't one to share a potato!" He threw the obscure reference back at his opponent in the place of a dagger or a jet of flame, and kicked into a triple back-flip to bring himself to the edge of the central platform in a triple thud of hollow crystal cracking and leather boots slap-slapping against the cold and foreboding arena.

Jensen ran, and Duffy unsheathed Tooth to accompany Riposte at the zenith of his third flip, and landed on the very edge teetering to topple over into the unknown beyond. He lifted his body up onto it's tippy toes, twirled both daggers, and winked. "Bring it, bitch," he snapped, and fell backwards arms wide out of sight of the Enigmatic Immortal. He had been waiting for this moment for so long, he wanted to make the spiky youth fight for the chance to wring his pauper neck.

[Enigmatic Immortal]

“Well, that was a waste of a glaive!” Jensen snarled to himself as his weapon flew wildly off coarse when the man avoided it. Still, the knight was pretty fast and not many people could outmaneuver his throwing arm these days. He had at one point had trouble hitting the bulls-eye, but nowadays he hit them all in the center while splitting the darts to make room for more. His newly found enemy had to either been lucky, or insanely agile to block his blow.

His retort was what slowed the knights pace, thinking to himself how in the hell his foe would know about the potato fight he had with William Arcus a few weeks prior. The conclusion was very easy to see, but Jensen still didn’t know how to connect the dots. So he did what he did best when he couldn’t figure out what to do in a fight; charge forward and smash his fists into the opponent‘s skull.

His foe backpedaled and flipped away from Jensen, taunting him onwards with his motions until he gracefully teetered on the edge of the abyss. He then did the last thing he expected to ever see anybody outside himself do; Fall to their death. The insane man's parting words enraged the immortal and he ran forwards to give chase. His blood screamed in his veins, pounding behind his ears as he moved, each step in time with the beating of his heart. Without even thinking for two seconds he dove over the edge, hands gripping the pommels of his other throwing knives. He let two out in his descent when he berthed over the crystal sanctum, feeling the wind howling as his hair billowed behind him in their free fall.

“Catch, you faggot!”

How and why at that exact moment Jensen remembered the information about who he was fighting was something he would ponder for hours after this fight. Yet as the wind whipped his face he knew exactly whom he was fighting against. The dramatic poise, the elegant thrust of words and the whimsy of which he tossed his body over the edge into the unknown were all warning signs. Signs like these were not what made him remember though. In fact it was the opposite, as it was the potato comment. The potato Jensen fought over had a few spectators, and one of them, the man in front of him in the line he ignored because of his bad day, was none other than one of the nine generals of the Ixian Knights, Duffy Bracken.

“Oh my,” Jensen cooed with malicious intent. “I got me a celebrity in my grips!”

Jensen gains 1 EX bar

[Duffy]

Jensen might have gotten a grasp of many things in his time, from basic dwarf to flirting with strumpy, lack lustre women he couldn't ever properly have, but a hand on Duffy Bracken he would never have.

The fall from grace was in fact a fall into perfection, a trick to gull his opponent's ego into the open for all to see. As he dissipated, Duffy had rolled prone and kicked his boots with a heavy thud against the crystal wall of the central pillar. Two spikes had emerged from each, part of the Trappings of Sparrows he had custom-built to ascend the Windlacer Mountains months before. They had proven useful many times, and here, today, they would sing a sweet bird song for Jensen to be reminded of a few things.

Duffy caught his daggers into the crystal and skidded to a halt halfway down the pillar. He let his weight hang when he came to a stop, testing to see if he was secure, and ran upwards like a spider in a flurry of crystal shards and cunning. Right on cue, Jensen came tumbling over the edge and tossed two daggers down into the projected path of Duffy's fall. His eyes glimmered, and Duffy's glinted back, catching the points of the blades as they spiralled down in unison towards his climbing body.

He pulled the chords of The Aria into existence and as he climbed, he vanished, gone in the blink of an eye and out of harm's way once more. It wasn't luck, as much as Jensen would like to believe, but the brevity of trust in friends that protected the thief. The daggers shot through where had been and Jensen tumbled through Duffy's ghost trail.

In a flash of blue entrails and magical threads, set to the sound of Brahm's Concerto 124 Duffy re-appeared, ten feet or so higher from where he'd vanished. Without wasting a second, and all timed well, he pushed back from the wall and clicked his fingers. The snap of bone in the cold atmosphere sheathed the crampons and retracted the claws he had produced in his deft ascent, and he arced back until he twisted and turned into a reversal of fortunes.

He fell, and smiled at Jensen's back.

"Catch this!" He roared, his Scara Braen twang ripe with irony, the rush of air past his ears a tumultuous cavalcade.

Tooth span downwards, helped along with the hardest toss Duffy could muster. His heart beat so strongly it threatened to shatter his ribs, and all his energy fell from him as they tumbled down to the smaller platform below, which was connected to the central pillar by another bridge; a feeble tendon of hope that their combined weight threatened to snap.

[Enigmatic Immortal]

The following Duffy moment was Duffied approved for all the Duffy needs! If you feel this Duffy moment didn’t quiet catch the Duffy pride, poise, and grace as you think he should have then send me a PM and I’ll Re-Duffy it to be the Duffiest moment ever! Have a fluffy Duffy day!

Jensen looked to the air noticing that something was suddenly missing, and the should be dead Bracken was instead gone, vanishing in a cute little display of blue magic ribbons. This was fast becoming a rather irritating thing. One over the ledge, two down the hole, three to get stabbed, and four to disappear? That wasn’t the battle plan Jensen thought up on the fly. He made a mental note to think things through next time.

His back however reminded him that even if Duffy was gone from his vision, he wasn’t gone from the fight. A feeling of metal piercing into his upper shoulder made his eyes flash with red and he let out a groan of pain as he looked behind him to see Duffy falling along with him. Jensen felt his anger rise to the fore but another convenient reminder from the forces of gravity applied as he slammed into the crystal steps below. His arms reached up to his face to cover himself from the impact, the sound like a thousand mirrors breaking echoing in his muffled ears. The crystal shattered from the impact, sending shards slicing along his skin and soon his arms looked like tapered coils of meat.

The knight hit the floor with a thud and a grunt, his breath ragged as his body bounced a bit off from the floor. As if his entry wasn't enough, he felt the kiss of Riposte slash his tender back. He arched backwards in pain, seething as he rolled to the side, breathing heavily as his chest rose up and down. He watched as the Ixian Knight rose upwards, a smile on his face like a rabbit who outsmarted a fox. That was all Jensen needed as far as timing.

Jensen jumped sideways towards Duffy in a corkscrew fashion, bending over and spreading his legs out like a wheel. He was spinning in place like a wagon wheel, rapidly slamming boot after boot into Duffy’s face with his EX spin kick overdrive. The strikes each lent themselves perfect timing and each hit slammed into him with ferocity. A bit of blood escaped out the actors mouth, landing on Jensen which made him smile.

When Jensen landed he touched both feet down on the floor and knelt looking up at Duffy. “Shut your damn mouth!” Jensen breathed as he came up in a violent flash kick. “And die!” He screamed laughing hysterically once more.

[Duffy]

Duffy's vision blurred the moment his confident swagger towards his downed opponent was knocked eschew with a delicate heel. The second, third and fourth blow to his chin and face ricocheted his senses back into the dark ages, and he stumbled backwards, arms a flailing and stomach churning with the sudden and innocuous scent of blood. They compensated quickly, and left him with a crimson nose and a bruised larynx.

"Fuckwit!" He roared childishly, a deep echo to his voice as he swallowed and spluttered betwixt every annunciated agony. He had heard tales of Jensen Ambrose's flawless dichotomy not with magic, strength or courage, although he seemed to posses plenty of that; but with tactical flexibility, an endless repertoire of manoeuvres to draw upon in a time of need.

Even as Duffy tried to gather his wits, down went the nimble pit fighter and up went his feet once more. He spluttered to speak, to utter a defence, but found the boot pounding him upwards into the air as his limbs went numb and he briefly, if only for a second, gave up.

The world span.

Duffy peaked at thirty feet, and began to fall backwards head over heels. Gobbets of blood floated around him, satellites to his creative planet. He gritted his teeth, wiped his face clean and felt the strange gravity give way. He fell suddenly, and landed in a crouching position on the stairs that connected their broken platform with the central column behind them. The grass cracked beneath him, splintering and scattering dust to the endless night.

"No..." He glared at Jensen, clenching his fist and lifting it up slowly.

"I will not shut my damn mouth."

He drove his gloved hand down, and down, and down again. The stairway broke apart with a crystalline rain and Duffy grinned as he dissipated once more from view. Jensen might never give in, and pull shapes with the gods to proove his worth, but Duffy had a more subtle science to his prooving of points.

As he tumbled down in a weightless mess, he spiralled in a slow spin and drew the Katarhna from the sheath on his back.

His feet connected with the lowest platform of the arena with a soft echo and Lysander Brandybuck, a True Hero of Radasanth, of the Civil War, and of Althanas proper looked up to the stars to await his opponent's return to form.

[Enigmatic Immortal]

Jensen watched as the lighter gravity sent Duffy soaring up into the nightline sky. He was so enraptured by the sight of the crystals he hadn’t even noticed the beauty of the sky. It shimmered three different colors: Deep blue, aquamarine, and a moonlight silver. The sight took the immortal’s breath away, and he smiled to himself. Damn do I make a good arena!

Sufficiently feeding his ego he heard a crash of crystal and figured that Duffy had at long last landed. Not losing his sense of self he ran around the bottom pavilion before a wicked idea came into shape. He turned his steps and ran right at the wall of the central column of crystal, running on it’s surface and turning until he was parallel with the ground. He sprinted upwards in a diagonal until about half way and kept his gaze out for Lord Bracken, searching as he continued to laugh to himself.

At last he found his foe rising, pulling out a sword of some nature he didn’t really particularly cared to know, and everything within the actors body seemed to change. He looked far more noble, far more determined, and a lot less cheeky. He also had his back to the immortal, which was a nice change of pace. Perhaps it was time to return the favor the Tantalum Troupe leader gave him. Pulling out the last two of his throwing weapons, his glaives, he took careful aim and tossed them both.

“Why so serious, Lord Bracken?” Jensen taunted as he changed his course. In effect, he hoped the bastard would turn and get a nice surprise for his efforts. But just in case it never hurt to ram a punch dagger into somebody’s throat. Laughing gleefully he equipped his weapon and jumped forwards, launching himself at Bracken’s location.

Jensen has 2 EX bars

[Duffy]

The slick movement of the blade into Lysander's shoulder brought the Blade-singer turning and screaming in pain with the ferocity of a cornered beast. Without a humble decline of Jensen's question, the hero of the Western Weald brought his blade up through the air and cut a mock cross through the distant dancer's advancing form. Weakness settled in, and an enfeebled sense of grandeur crushed his soul. His chance was fading, his life force fell to the floor like a rag doll.

Duffy watched from The Aria, looking out in pallid visionary fields through his own body's eyes, but possessing no control over his own muscles, limbs and blades. The sensation was odd, and it was why he feared his own power and seldom drew on the Blade-singer's talent in battle. He watched, waited, and held his breath. Jensen had to learn his lesson, and he had to learn it before his fists and dancing broke his spine and skull.

"I am no Lord, nor Bracken titled, but you assail a legend all the same!" Lysander took a hold of the Katarhna with both hands and slid his feet wide into a firm and stoic stance, ready for the turning aside of behemoths rushing in foolishly to his prominence. The Aria ruptured the atmosphere and permeated an ominous, righteous song that transcended time and space.

Duffy had heard it before, and Lysander marvelled at it's uplifting melody (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YGg_mVBqXVo&feature=related).

He gritted his teeth, knowing that removing the blade from his shoulder would spell his time, and thought of home.

The rolling grass of Corone and the love of his life waiting for him was all he needed to bring his magic to bear, and he sang a simple verse to charge the blade in his hands with a powerful magic that was found in Raiera, and held in the turn of the stars. "Love lifts the heart on high, turns the souls below, cast my mind to the heavens, in love I'll always know."

The Katarhna burst into vibrant life, and vibrated with strength, gusto, and the same passion that Duffy and Lysander alike held in their heart for all things.

He charged head forwards towards Jensen as he advanced, and brought the blade back to his left, and cut it with full deft swing through the dancer's advancing form as they crossed paths.

Jensen...see the people around you as more than a target...please, without that, you will end up like Sei...like Wainwright, like all the selfish sons of the world...without the support of friends, you are nothing, a shallow wreck... Duffy pleaded to no-one in particular from his soul bound prison in his own realm. With every heartbeat, he leant closer to the Oratory lens and prayed.

[Enigmatic Immortal]

A maddened laughter bellowed out from Jensen’s lips, a crashing crescendo that fought against the lyrical rhapsody of the enrapturing melody. The sword arm of Duffy had improved, and Jensen was using all his skill to keep the dance at a high tempo. He prodded his defenses, feinted and countered. The strikes made a chord that added to each man’s personal symphony, like cymbals clanging in the still air. The crystals absorbed these sounds and it became a concert hall of madness. A soothing melody, an obnoxious laughter, and the striking of metal against metal.

“Are you there, Duffy?” Jensen hollered with giggles. “It’s me, Jensen!” Again they crossed blades, and this time it was Jensen who found himself in a powerful position. Back and forth the two went, striking like animals, but it was Duffy who was losing ground.

“Once more I am not this Duffy!” The Tantalum shouted. His sword arm came up in a quick riposte, darting outwards to cleave Jensen’s chest in two. He flipped backwards to avoid the strike, coming up with a roundhouse to keep the pressure off him. Now it was Jensen who was on the defensive, losing ground yet again as he felt his feet slide upon the crystal steps. “I have fought brigands like you before! I will not let you-” Jensen punched the method actor right square in the jaw.

“I never thought I’d meet someone who talks as much as I do!” Jensen said in a low growl, chuckling darkly. “Seriously, Duffy, or…whatever the hell you're pretending to be, shut your damn-” Now Jensen felt his world rattle as Lysander returned the punch, with a bit of change. The immortal stumbled backwards nearly losing all his ground, but the hit didn’t leave him entirely exposed as Lysander would think. Jensen felt his feet find the right position and with a whoop of laughter Jensen took advantage of his enemy’s footing as he attempted to come back in.

“Round and round we go!” Jensen cheered as he corkscrewed again, this time hitting the man with his EX spinning wheel kick. The attack came out flawlessly, and suddenly, striking Lord Bracken several times once more in the jaw. Four strikes in all before Jensen rotated back to a kneeling position. True to his beliefs, the warrior blocked the foreshadowed Flash Kick, but that wasn’t Jensen’s goal at all. He exploded forwards, but onto his feet instead of upwards as he grabbed Lysander by the head and forced it down for his EX power bomb.

The knight reached both arms in a tight embrace under the actor's belly and lifted him up, slamming him down onto the crystal steps. The crystal fractured fiercely, then with a loud groan and more cracking the step shattered. Jensen jumped backwards onto another step, waving goodbye as he watched the mad man plummet.

“Oh how I love to see a hero's fall!”

Jensen has 0 EX bars, Duffy Approves the Bunnying

[Duffy]

Lysander died.

Duffy rolled his eyes in The Aria, and felt himself dragged back into his own body with the grace of gum-less angels and the love of a mother slapping her own child. It was a cold, blunt affair, a reunion with a twang of pain and sudden return to the harsh reality of living.

He did not register the pain, for it was not his to bear, and fell lifeless and limbless and once more whole. The brutal exchange of blows had drained all of his talent and power, and he dwindled like a star spluttering out with one last burst of transcendence, one last glimmer of hope, fire and life.

The fires of his dissonance danced in the air as the power of the arena revealed itself. He did not fall to his doom, as he expected, but through the folds of time and space. The magic plucked him and lifted him up, up and up further still, and he continued to fall as if Blank's Blink ability had triggered without cause. Jensen's dagger fell into nothing, it's target dragged free of it's entropy, blood trailing along with it as a testament to it's determination, it's stubborn echo of it's owner.

Instead of the last curtain call, Duffy opened his eyes to be greeted with a sharp and heavy thud with the top of the central pillar, and the brittle snapping of tendons and bones and muscle. Jensen's gambit, his dance finale had taken it's toll, and with a shatter and a crunch the thief was broken and lost.

He rolled his eyes as he rolled onto his back, blood pouring from every orifice and new ones too. Whatever had born him aloft had given him something more valuable than strength, it had given him time. The opportunity to teach Jensen a lesson fighting couldn't was too great, and he dropped the Katarhna from his icy grip and let go of the tenets of war. His heavy breathing and almost vanished will forced him upright, forced him to a crouch, to a stoop, to a stance and to a defiant erection of posture.

He breathed slowly, and finally, with a defiant cut of the chord Jensen had formed in the air with his melody of malefic wounding, he shouted through a bruised lip and a concussed daze to the stars.

"Lose yourself in the solitude of infamy, Jensen Ambrose, and you will turn into the shallow wreck of a soul you follow - I wish that on no-one, not one, sodden soul!"

Duffy smiled, or tried to behind his plump, ripe damson grimace.

"Come, shut this mouth o' mine for me, caus' whilst I is talkin' and the heroes of the world are fightin' true enemies, you and Sei and all the others will still be prattlin' on with words unspoken - show me, show me you ain't nothing more than an arrogant git, a son of a gun and a low dastard scoundrel!"

The thief wobbled on his knees, and the bone, broken and splintered rinded in it's socket. He grimaced, and tried to hold out for one last suicidal stance against the pummelling fists of the Ixian Knight's premiere douche bag. His voice echoed down across the arena and brought Jensen screaming upwards, far too eager to prove himself once more, a showman to rival Duffy's theatrical prattle to the very last second.

[Enigmatic Immortal]

Jensen heard Duffy’s rattling, heard his words, but what he was saying was well beyond the immortal now. He was screaming his laughter, his blood pounding in every inch of his fiber as he came up to the top, scrambling like a lunatic rushing forward. There beaten and busted was the man who taunted him, had the gall to play games and then make such a grand speech. Who the hell did Duffy Bracken think he was? Jensen would find out one way or another!

“Here comes the finale!” Jensen grinned as he pounded forwards. Duffy’s body was a wreck, he was done with the fight and anything, even a simple push from a solitary finger would have ended him, but not for the enigmatic immortal. He wanted Lord Bracken to understand the meaning of pain through sense memory. He wanted his laughing echo to wring in his mind over and over, he wanted his smile painted on the inside of the man’s eyelids. He wanted to break Duffy Bracken.

“Curtains Rise!” Jensen taunted as he was within range of the actor, and with a beat already in his head he let himself get lost in his passion. One fist flew out, hitting the wounded shoulder of the man, making him scream out in pain, seething. A kick to his shin, an uppercut to his jaw, a series of rolling punches, a knee, a kick, a groin shot, another uppercut. Jensen moved his body like the sea rolls its tides and the entire time he never stopped laughing, making sure each grating note from his lips pierced the skull of his enemy.

Jensen dashed back and forwards in again, this time his laughter a mere whisper. One gut punch, another gut punch, rolling and rolling like Duffy was his own personal punching bag. Each jab smashed into the actor and each hit rose the laughing tone. A breath of laughter, a whisper, a chuckle, a giggle, a laugh, a roar, a violent bellow as he laughed insanely, until the final blow. With the loudest cry of impassioned glee that reverberated off the crystals shattering some of the already broken ones he struck Duffy right on the jaw, his body lifting with an uppercut spinning and pushing Duffy off his fist. The actor arched his back from the blow, landing in a heap as Jensen fell before him on his two feet, landing in a polite, textbook perfect bow.

“That’s all folks,” Jensen chuckled.

The air stank of blood and Jensen watched as Duffy made no more movements to try and get up. The fight was over and he felt a certain joy to have thoroughly trashed his opponent, yet as he took his first step away something glittered out of the corner of his eye. He looked to the object, seeing a small flower like wreath floating lazily downwards, and instantly the immortal snatched it from the air with deft fingers. He held the Nierika Necklace in his hand, and instantly all his blood thinned out, the pounding beat in his head echoed away until there was silence broken only by the heavy breathing of Duffy.

The necklace was a gift to him, fashioned from the flowers of a spirit creature who had attempted to make the sea of madness within Jensen go away. What held the flower together was a few strands of beautiful hair. The woman who summoned the beast, she had the fine hair, and he killed her, screaming and hollering and laughing like a jackass. True, he was in a fight and he did his best to win, but like he had done with Jennifer Oakley he had done to Duffy Bracken. He went way overboard, into a shameful and tasteless territory he hadn’t gone into since that fight with the summoner so long ago.

Not to mention he knew Duffy was one of his people. He was an Ixian Knight, and to boot, he was a braggart and a showman. Jensen figured he lost control having to share the spotlight with him. Well, Jensen felt silly now. He looked back to the necklace. He really could have used that reminder before he went nuts on Duffy’s poor face.

“Ya know,” Jensen said in a soft tone, feeling all his energy lift out of him and away as the necklace soothed his energetic spirit. “It’s been a while since I even looked at this thing. I don’t think seeing it now was a coincidence.” Jensen turned back to Duffy, his footsteps echoing off the crystal as he approached the fallen warrior.

“I don’t know what to say really,” He looked back at the necklace, feeling a warmth inside where he had started building a void. He really lost it in this fight, and he felt ashamed to have done so. Jensen had come a long, long way, and to see himself going back was a little harrowing. He looked back down to Duffy. He still didn’t know what to say, but he knew deep down what he could at least do.

“Assuming you have the strength to do so,” Jensen joked, but it was more light-hearted and friendly. “Then get your busted body up and shake my hand, and I’ll buy ya a pint. Got a story for you if you’re keen on hearing it.” Jensen lifted his hand out to Duffy, placing it right by him. He could take it if he wanted, and it wouldn’t have to be much of a stretch either.

[Duffy]

Try as hard as he might, Duffy, through gritted, broken teeth, couldn't muster the courage and bravado required to swallow his pride and take Jensen's hand. Something about it didn't seem quite right, after all. He was the thief, the troubadour king, the honest man of honest intentions - he held the speculum to the window of troubled souls to show them the error of their ways, but here he was, committing the sins he tried to cleanse.

"No."

He spat blood, and swatted the man's hand from his vision. "I will not take your hand." He rolled away from the Immortal, and slowly, with aching limbs and painful pangs of distant summer heat in his heart pushed himself upright. It was a long, slow, agonising journey through self-defeat, one fraught with the dangers of sounding like an idiot, coming across as a fool. He had taught Sei the same lesson in The Cell, and vowed never to give in to the destiny he had carved for himself in the stars above Scara Brae - what made Jensen think he'd cave in here and now?

Finally upright, finally strong, he turned on his heel and glared poignantly into the eyes of his opponent. The crystal realm was inspiring, a frivolous journey into his childhood and youthful exuberance, that much he knew. Everything he had heard about Jensen was bullish ignorance, a dose of arrogance and an endless need to prove himself, but here, he had been proven wrong. Hearsay, as they say, is nothing more than rumour cresting a wave.

The dark night beyond the arena sparkled with empty promises and the ring of crystal dust shattering in the atmosphere filled the silence. Duffy thought to himself for a moment, feeling his life-force torn apart by will fading. He did not have long, and thought to deliver his closing line, his finale grande, his soliloquy to seal the metaphor and promise he had been trying, somewhat unsuccessfully to impart to his opponent.

"You write your own destiny, Jensen. Nobody, not even Sei, especially not Stephanie, can carve out a path in life for you other than you - don't let prophecy and command take control, or you will end up like me, a pawn to a god long dead in the stars and a wraith born of sin that controls my life with penumbra strings."

Duffy pulled his last weapons from his inventory from their sheaths, the short swords Tristan and Isoulde, and mentally noted the irony. They had been forbidden to cross paths centuries ago, a pauper and a princess, and now they would unite two polar opposites, bring two forces of good in the world closer together and closer still. Duffy's plan to unite the Ixian Knights and the Tantalum as one to achieve a destiny only he understood required trust.

He cut both blades across his palms and then held them crossed towards Jensen.

"I declined, because I wish to offer you more than my hand - I offer you the blood of the Thayne Tantalus, I offer you kinship - a token professed in earnest. Be my blood brother, Jensen Ambrose, and let us show the world how to really have a party!" His extended palms, already bloodied by the pummelling from the dancer's fists glimmered with his own thick blood, concluded yet another conflict of interests between the two groups.

This time, however, Duffy had been man enough to fulfil his promise to Ruby to let someone else take the lead for once in his life.

This time, Duffy thanked the stars that he did not have to be the Dark Messenger.



Spoils:

The Arrogant & The Stubborn - Duffy has offered Jensen Blood Brotherhood, should he accept it, the bond formed between them will allow Jensen to begin to develop some of Duffy's enigmatic acrobatic ability as well as his punching dagger fighting style. In return, Duffy can add Jensen's Spark to his repertoire of potential personality's to develop with the Method Acting skill.

[Enigmatic Immortal]

Jensen stood watching the man get up, felt his hands hovering at his side ready to attack. Like chained wolves he felt the blood start to run again, but holding the necklace firmly in his grip kept the emotions from stirring out of control. Watch him, see what he does first, a voice in the back of his mind said. It was a claming voice, a voice of reason that he seldom had heard in his ocean of insanity.

He declined his hand, pushed back his attempts to bridge a gap he had started to form, and Duffy was talking about some grand vision. Jensen didn’t, and couldn’t, know what the Tantalum was thinking. With a careful shuffle he moved forward, noticing he drew two weapons. Jensen observed him, and the voice spoke again. He’s tired and will not fight you, just wait and see. Jensen did so, and watched as he drew the daggers across his palms.

The offer wasn’t something he had expected, for the man wanted Jensen not just to be partners, not be friends, but to be brothers. Comrades in arms. He spoke of destiny and the chains of fate, about how he had to carve out his own life. The words were sweet, honey like, and had a measure of genuine emotion to them. Yet, something also felt wrong, like the offer wasn’t face value. Was Duffy in control of his own destiny? Could he speak of things of such magnitude without really knowing the implications?

Jensen didn’t know what to do, and the necklace offered no more advice. He looked to this offering and then to himself. He wondered what he should do, and the answer at last came. He felt that there was something right with everything that was wrong, and the confusion that came with it was its own answer. The unknown was a terrible thing, but also wondrous.

“You make absolutely no sense, Bracken,” Jensen said at last with a snort of mirth. He looked to Duffy's bloody hands and with a shrug he pulled out his punch knife again. “You give grand speeches that just drive me nuts, cause I don't grasp a single damn thing you say. On top of all that you speak in riddles! Do you know how frustrating that is?" Jensen joked, but kept his tone somewhat serious. "Your life is a Thayne's be damned theater show, a giant production.” He lifted his arms and circled the sky in a grand poise. “You talk big about destiny and how others control me, but you need a little insight into trusting others. I chose to live life in solitude to cope with loss until I was ready to choose Stephanie to open up again. I chose to follow Sei’s dream, and choose to follow his wishes. I chose a little girl, and choose to raise her as my daughter. I chose the paths I walk, Duffy, and I will choose this path as well.”

Jensen dropped the punch knife across his hand and winced a bit in pain as he cut across his palm. He dropped the weapon and it clattered against the crystal, echoing in the stillness. Blood poured out the wound like ants fleeing from a flooded hole, and Jensen stepped forwards taking Duffy’s hand. “I choose to be your comrade, your so called blood brother, because as infuriating as you are, Bracken," Jensen smiled. "I like your flashy style, you damnable show off! It reminds me of…me!” Jensen said gripping the man’s hand tightly and grinning.

Duffy gripped it back, clasping his other bloodied hand on the top of Jensen’s, smiling back. “This coming war, heh heh, it’s going to be one hell of a party!” Jensen said walking out with Duffy at his back, both men chuckling.

SPOILS: Jensen wishes to receive a following upgrade to the Nireika Necklace: Blood Bond - By pressing his bloodied hand into the bloodied hand of Duffy Bracken, he unknowingly forgot he had the necklace in his hand at the time. The flowers however absorbed the crimson liquids and now every third petal is a mixed color of red, a perfect harmony to each other. This offer Jensen no special abilities, but does remind him that Duffy and he are Blood Brothers.

This Is My Show!: Jensen is now a blood brother to Duffy, and when he fights with him at his side Jensen gains +1.0 to his Agility to attempt to outshine Duffy in a brotherly rivalry. This cannot for any reason raise his agility to above 2.5. Should Duffy wish to add this to his profile, he may do so.


((Been fun, Duff man. Let me know when your ready to submit this.))

[Revenant]

Condensed Rubric, with some light commentary requested. Duffy Bracken’s scores are in blue, Enigmatic Immortal’s are in red.

STORY: 17 / 18 – Neither of you did much to explain who your characters were, despite the fact that both of the characters have a lot of depth to them. Score goes to EI on this one because he used the scenery better.

CHARACTER: 20 / 19 – Enigmatic Immortal, your character flip-flopped between old Jensen and new Jensen, as if this were just a thread for you to ignore all of the character development you’ve been building up. That’s why Duffy eeks ahead here.

WRITING STYLE: 19 / 17 – Strangely enough, Duffy had the more clear writing in this one. Jensen, the descriptions of you jumping from one move to the next are difficult to understand, especially for someone who doesn’t know just what the move you’re trying to describe looks like.

WILD CARD: 5 / 3

TOTAL: 61 / 57

Duffy Bracken wins and receives 2475 exp and 140 gp.
Enigmatic Immortal receives 675 exp and 130 gp.

Spoils:


Spoils: The Arrogant & The Stubborn - Duffy has offered Jensen Blood Brotherhood, should he accept it, the bond formed between them will allow Jensen to begin to develop some of Duffy's enigmatic acrobatic ability as well as his punching dagger fighting style. In return, Duffy can add Jensen's Spark to his repertoire of potential personality's to develop with the Method Acting skill.

Spoil granted, though why you would want to be blood brothers with Jensen is beyond me.


SPOILS: Jensen wishes to receive a following upgrade to the Nireika Necklace: Blood Bond - By pressing his bloodied hand into the bloodied hand of Duffy Bracken, he unknowingly forgot he had the necklace in his hand at the time. The flowers however absorbed the crimson liquids and now every third petal is a mixed color of red, a perfect harmony to each other. This offer Jensen no special abilities, but does remind him that Duffy and he are Blood Brothers.

This Is My Show!: Jensen is now a blood brother to Duffy, and when he fights with him at his side Jensen gains +1.0 to his Agility to attempt to outshine Duffy in a brotherly rivalry. This cannot for any reason raise his agility to above 2.5. Should Duffy wish to add this to his profile, he may do so.

Spoils granted.

[Taskmienster]

Exp and GP added.