Pre-emptive Strike

[Enigmatic Immortal]

Closed to Rayse

Wind blew against the back of the jacket that Jensen wore, small ripples of pressure pushing the fabric back and forth as it lightly massaged his body. The immortal lowered his hands into his pockets while he lifted his arms up in a shrug letting a sigh escape his lips watching the vapor turn to smoke before his very eyes.

The knight had waited for hours on the pier of one of the docks that lead out of Corone to Scara Brae for one of Talen Shadowalker’s informants to drop off information for the ever growing Ixian Knights. A tip from a local had filtered through the social circles to the child general’s ears, and with nobody else to really go and check the information the youth had asked Jensen if he could meet with his informant at this specified location he waited at. It was a reluctant yes for the immortal to agree to go, but times around Ixian Castle had been rather rough as of late and at least in this way Jensen could somehow feel like he was doing more than being an annoying pest and grunt line fighter.

There had been a bout of bad publicity as of late that had fallen upon the House of Ixian, painting Sei Orlouge’s warriors in a very negative light. There was also the moral blow dealt to the army when the entire Mercenary Company was wiped out save for three souls. William and his monster hunters did a fantastic job of killing the sacred guardian of a village, and Cassandra Remi, infallible serial killer and Sei’s trump card, was trumped in turn by the sudden appearance of her own father who apparently had the skills to not only best Cassandra, but utterly control her movements and actions and limit the Gisela Reaper. And if things weren’t already off to a bad start for the spring season, the Knights of Dawn decided to declare open war against all Mystics.

Yet like a stoic leader, Sei shouldered the burden and addressed each situation one at a time and managed to even turn some bad news to good as he utilized every resource available to him. Valdta, a city of Corone, was assaulted by the prophesized army that Sei was getting ready for and thanks to Adolph Gretzle the town held off long enough for the might of the legion to come and crush the opposition. Now the army fed off that victory and continued to surge forwards to make the name known throughout the world that the Ixian Knights were ready for anything and would take on all comers.

Which came back to why Jensen waited for the informant. The youth described the man as a bald, average looking guy who would be wearing a wind jacket and carrying a fishing pole. Jensen waited as he sighed again. He searched for signs of the contact when he felt a presence coming from above him. With a kick off the railing he looked upwards to find a man who was in the process of setting up a fishing pole, his jacket attached to his waist as sweat dripped from his bald head.

“Fishing on the tallest pier here gives you a better vantage of the area, friend,” The man spoke in a casual manner, his lips parted to show a friendly smile. Jensen nodded his head as he leaned forward on his elbows. His eyes gazed at the sea and all its beauty and he felt a twinge of calmness settle over his restless spirit.

“And why does the vantage point offer you the potential for a better catch?” Jensen inquired with a soft smile of his own. The man shrugged as he attached bait to his hook, eyes cast to the sea for a long moment of silence. With a crack and a whir, the fishing pole cast out the hook and string, and landed thirty feet out into the water.

“You can find the deeper holes in the sea where more fish are likely to congregate. It’s like a cave, but for only certain fish. The big ones, none of the small time tuna.” Jensen snickered as he heard the logic. “This is how you find yourself the nicest fish to catch. Worthy of a banquet table in my humble opinion. But you got to be a little quick on this, get your lure in the water fast so they don’t have time to get startled and swim away.” Jensen watched the lure in the sea, the man above him had sat down and placed his boots next to him as he sat with dangled legs over the edge of the dock.

“Thanks for the tip, I may have to try it sometime,” Jensen said casually lifting a hand to wave the man goodbye. The fisherman nodded and waved back, never letting his gaze drift away from the sea. The immortal shuffled up the planks, the wet wood creaking beneath his leather boots. He walk towards the edges of Concordia Forest near a set of caves that ran underground.

“Big time crime in a little pond,” Jensen said with a chuckle of anticipation. He pulled a pair of his studded leather gloves over his knuckles, feeling the fabric creak against his skin as he flexed his digits. “Let’s see if a little blood can bring me a shark…”

[Rayse Valentino]

Footsteps echoed on the dock behind the docile bald man.

He didn't turn around as he said, "You're too late. The fish has already swam away with the lure."

The one behind him was a masked young woman with long dark hair held back in a ponytail. She was wearing loose-fitting clothing bound together by several straps, and in her grip was a sharp knife.

"So you knew you were infiltrated?" she asked.

He looked back at her and smiled, "When the line breaks, it can be easily replaced. But if the pole breaks, it's time to go back." She knew what this meant: His death was coming, and it would notify the organization that they were infiltrated. They would pack up their operations here after this.

Several minutes later, a crow cut across the sky at blazing speeds to deliver the message in-between its claws. It dove into the trees and passed by a long caravan that was headed towards an underground tunnel. Several men eyed the crow suspiciously, but went back to their work after recognizing the cross-shaped red mark on its side. It flew into the tunnel, through an arrangement of horses and wagons, and into a cavernous shipping facility that was brightly lit due to focused strobe lights powered by Light Crystals gathered from the mines of Kachuck in Alerar. The largest object in the room was a giant, ovular ring made of gold-plated metal that had ramps leading up to it and wires that extended all the way to the rock walls. It was one of the Rings of The Sun, the huge mass transportation devices that allowed instantaneous travel between them. They could not be used very often, but when they are active they transport huge quantities of material between the two active rings here and the one hidden in Salvar.

Overseeing the operation was a tower in the center of the large room, with a long winding ladder leading up to a control room. Inside of it were three men: Rayse Valentino, known here as one of The Supervisors, a short contracted engineer from the technological group known as The House of Sora dressed in a lab coat, and a young messenger in a black long coat who kept a window open and looked out impatiently.

To The Salvaran Mafia, Rayse was known as one of The Supervisors, a group of leaders that worked directly under The Don, the grand mastermind of the organization. Due to the Forget Orb, people would be unable to recognize Rayse's appearance or voice, but each Supervisor carried a small technological device that could be plugged into a magical recognition device carried in every TSM facility that assured their position. He wore a grayish-blue striped suit with matching pants, and was halfway through his current cigarette.

The crow flew into the room and landed in the messenger's hands. Unfurling the quickly-scrawled scrap of paper, the messenger's feverish look turned to one of shock, as he quickly turned to Rayse and told him that there was trouble.

"How did you let this happen?" Rayse asked calmly, blowing smoke into the air and looking out a window himself. "The Don thought he could rely on the network here in Concordia to prevent precisely this situation."

"We-we-we're very sorry!" replied the messenger. "The Ixian Knights have been setting up intelligence in this area, and their network is so tight that it took us this long to get in. The bright side is due to that tightness, exact information has not been exchanged between their operatives. The one we took out was the only one who knew!"

'All of these cretins are completely worthless.'

"Him and the stooge that's heading for us right now, you mean," he said, finally turning to the messenger. "What are you going to do about it?"

This was it for the messenger. He knew that this kind of failure was not tolerable in a criminal organization.

His eyes drooped down in despair, "It's Jensen Ambrose, sir. He's one of their top men, and we don't have anybody around here that could even slow him down. But! We could collapse the tunnel and use one of the alternative ones. He only knows about one of the entrances!"

"Are you mad?" the engineer piped up. "We would lose a month's worth of goods! Hundreds of contracts would be defaulted on! We would lose an incalculable amount of credibility."

'I can't trust anybody but myself.'

Rayse took another drag on his cigarette and sighed, "Then I guess I better go take care of it."

"With all due respect, sir, there's not much that you, or anybody, can do alone. It's a suicide mission! We just need to keep him away for a little longer until we can get the shipment safely into the facility, then we could collapse the tunnel."

"I'll hold him off until then." Rayse dropped his cigarette into an ash tray and started walking out the door. Without looking back, he announced, "I want you to keep them infiltrated. If you can manage that, your life will be spared."

The messenger's jaw hung open in disbelief. He never expected to live another day.

He blinked twice and then remembered his manners, "Y-yes! Thank you, sir! Thank you!"

Rayse had neglected to tell the engineer that he was wrong on one account. Namely, that this was a suicide mission. After all, how was he supposed to know that this particular Supervisor was also The Don?

[Enigmatic Immortal]

Concordia Forest was one of the largest forests on Althanas with several caves, tunnels, rivers and lakes that ran the breadth of the island nation. This made the lush green land a tempting prospect for evasion, solitude, and of course, crime. The Ixian Knights had spent several man hours to determine exactly how the prophesized enemy troops had set foot upon Corone without Sei Orlouge even knowing about where they came from.

These searches became Talen Shadowalkers primary goal for a long while, and the answer he came up with was confirmed by Kyla Orlouge’s intelligence unit. The answer was simple: The Rings of the Sun. Simple archaic relics that had the ability to instantly have anything travel between two connected Rings. It was not the only lead they had, but it was the strongest belief Sei’s warriors had to go on. And even if it turned out to be false, owning such a relic had benefits.

Jensen’s boots made soft indents into the fresh dirt of the forest, protected from the sun by the vibrant green and brown flora and fauna. Wind howled as he made his way deeper into the dense terrain, several leaves crushed as he moved. There was only one network of caves close to the docks, and he was sure if it were further away the informant would have tipped him off. The sensation the tingled down his spine only served to feed the idea he was on the right path.

When he spotted the first signs of the moss covered caves in the distance he slowed his pace. It would do him no good to alert the entire enemy forces of his arrival by foolishly being hasty. Back when he was a Knight of Apocalypse he used to be one of their Jesters; Assassins of the Horsemen’s will. Though most people did not think much of the immortal, he was actually rather well tuned with the art of killing discreetly. Besides, if things went downhill he still felt more than capable of defeating anyone with his fighting skills.

The immortal’s left ear twitched as he heard the awful cawing sound of a crow overhead. His eyes turned to look for the source and he spotted the creature in the tree next to him. The tiny beast cast both wings to the side, cawing again as if challenging the knight to a battle, both talon claws digging into the branch to root itself. With a light sigh he focused back on his task at hand and moved silently forwards. The crow continued to caw at him, as if it mocked his actions, almost like a deep laughter.

He heard a soft whine, felt something rumble, and his world then went black rather swiftly as his feet came out from under him, body tumbling in the air like a rag doll as he landed in a heap near an overturned moldy log.

[Rayse Valentino]

The ground trembled before the tree that Rayse leaned against. Birds scattered from nearby trees and flew off from the loud noise that accompanied the blast. Stepping out from under his cover, he checked to see if his little proximity mine had done the trick. He saw Jensen's figure sprawled over an overturned log, with what appeared to be branches sticking through his torso. He walked closer with his hands in his pockets, in his eyes a look of optimistic cautiousness. The sight of the intruder made him grin, however. He got close and got a full view of the wounds: A huge burn mark on Jensen's back, and the aforementioned branches sticking through his body. A stream of blood stained the log his body was slumped over, pooling on the moss-covered ground below.

Rayse got close and lifted one of Jensen's wrists, dropping it over the man's head. No pulse, no breathing, no response. He was deader than a Salvaran snowboar in hunting season. The Don backed up and fished through his pockets for his pack of cigarettes, pulling one out and lighting it with a flame on his thumb. He took a drag and sighed. He would probably need to send someone out here to come pick up the body. Honestly, he expected more of a resistance from this one, since he set up a few extra presents, but a crisis adverted was always a welcome sight.

His relaxation was cut short, however, when he noticed a green mist coalescing about the body. His cigarette slipped out of his mouth and fell to the ground.

"...The fuck?!"

Jensen's body was moving! He saw it starting to pull itself off of the branches. After a few seconds of this, his shock faded and he could only come to one conclusion: 'This guy is a damn zombie!'

Sticking his hand into his pocket again, he produced a small alcohol-based mini-molotov and lit it with his thumb, chucking it towards the rising body of Jensen Ambrose.

[Enigmatic Immortal]

Death came for the immortal, the blackness of eternity gripped his mind and shut his thoughts as he remained dormant. Blood continued to flow down his body, but as the bomb’s effects wore off pale green energy coursed through his body. Each strand danced along his veins, crossing paths as his body violently twitched off the branches of the tree he had landed on. Recognition slowly stirred his eyes to open, fresh wind, bile and coppery taste upon his tongue, weak, trembling fingers opening wide as his body arched upwards in a violent thrust.

With a deep inhale the knight was back upon his feet, doubled over as he fought the effects of the power of the Storm Lord. Though the gift of the magical orb, known only as the Breath of the Undying to the immortal, was always a welcome gift, the effects were not. He felt the regeneration of his wounds that normally would take one days time speed to mere minutes, and his body took several seconds to adjust to new life after death.

No more blowing up, Jensen thought, his mind filled with a foggy feeling.

With his wind sufficiently caught he looked forwards to see a lit bottle coming right for him. Dumbfounded and fully off guard he had no defense prepared as the glass shattered against his stomach knocking the new found wind out. Tiny shards drifted upwards, the fragments cutting his face and arms. He wretched, turned sideways and dropped to one knee as he wheezed out a curse. He smelt the burning concoction and felt the tingling sensation on his body as his the liquid that splashed his body ignited and ran along his flesh. Without even a thought he grabbed his coat and furiously unbuttoned it, his fingers clawing the leather and gripping it tightly as he slid out of the burning coat and tossed it away from him, twirling to face the source of where it came from.

The man before him had a smug triumphant look, a sneer of one who felt calm and in control, but the look faded to a less enthusiastic one when he noticed the immortal was not dead. They gave each other an appraising look, one warrior’s did before they began the ritual of beating the shit out of the other. With nimble fingers he reached down to his belt, looping his thumb around the smooth cool steel of his throwing knives and hooked the ring bringing them to his hand. Jensen eyed the opponent carefully before he began to run at him, tossing one of the knives aiming for the man’s left arm.

[Rayse Valentino]

Rayse was pissed. Not only did this bastard come back to life, but even catching fire didn't seem to bother him. Didn't zombies have a weakness to fire? Although, that theory was not holding up the longer this went on. The Ixians were quite discriminatory against necromancers, which wasn't a surprise given recent conflicts around the world. Things like pain, the need to breathe, and whatnot were all affecting this man. Zombie or not, all he had to do was completely eradicate his opponent's body.

He didn't have much time to plan his next move, as he suddenly found himself at the wrong end of a throwing knife. As it careened in his direction, he moved as much as he could in the split-second he had, allowing it to cut into the side of his left arm and continue flying off down the road. As his eyes moved to the wound and the newfound pain, Jensen was already rushing him. Once again, the speed was remarkable, leaving Rayse with few responses.

He felt the blood pumping into his body, the rush of adrenaline overtaking him. He hadn't felt this way in a long time. The stinging pain from his left bicep, which was now leaking blood from an exposed cross-section on his flesh, reminded him of an ability. He hardened his skin, using his fire powers to rush hot blood throughout his body and galvanize his skin. It scathing hot to the touch and tough as steel.

Jensen's movements seemed to flow, his muscles relaxed and his body almost skipping along. He was even laughing as he ran, the kind of sadistic chuckle that accompanied a love for fighting. Rayse had seen many brutes tense up all their muscles and charge their opponents, sticking everything into vulnerable punches, but this was different. It reminded him of his uncle's Waterdancing. He had no time to dodge after dealing with the throwing knife. He followed Jensen's feet with his eyes and raised his right arm, letting the man's incoming kick make contact with his steel-skinned forearm. His felt his bones rattle from the impact, the precise kick pushing into a point on his flesh and nearly piercing it.

The warrior apparently didn't expect such a move, since as he pulled his leg back Rayse moved in and just barely grabbed hold of Jensen's shirt collar with his left hand. He took a step forward and threw the man with all his strength, pulling him off the ground and swinging him to the side, letting go and allowing the confused warrior to fly off into the forest.

After the throw, Rayse's breathing was heavy. The blood was staining the suit, which made him gnash his teeth, take it off, and throw it aside, revealing his typical black under-shirt. He put his right arm over the wound on his left bicep to stop the flow of blood.

'A perfectly good suit- ruined!'

It was an immediate thought, but his focus was on the pain he was feeling. His right forearm had a large bruise across it. A bead of sweat rolled down his cheek. This man was not only fast, but strong. Someone who could come back to life... He wasn't going to underestimate his opponent anymore.

[Enigmatic Immortal]

Bunnnying from here on out has been discussed and approved by both players.

Jensen felt the wind push against his body as he soared from the throw. He collided into the tree with a crude gasp of pain and a bit of spittle flowed from his lips like droplets of rain. He dropped onto all fours, his left hand slowly lifted to his mouth to wipe it. He put on a dark grin as he tilted his head to the side, his right hand drifted to his punch dagger upon his belt. The immortal grinned as he felt the cool leather strap on the handle beneath his own leather gloves. The two materials creaked against the other as he tugged the weapon off the belt, eyes never once being taken off his opponent.

“Not many people can dodge my knives,” Jensen mused loudly to his foe. To be honest, the truth was that most people always dodged when he flung the weapons outwards. Usually the opponent ignored the attack all together, but one look to the suited man’s arm and he could see the crimson droplets from the wound. The enemy’s face was contorted in rage, each muscle taught as he grimaced to the immortal.

Slowly the knight took his first steps forwards towards his foe. So far he had been blown up, impaled in the chest, and nearly lit on fire. On the attack he had observed the man’s impressive reflexes, but was haunted by the endurance of his enemy. It had felt like he had kicked a boulder, or a metal shield with his attack. The shock of the blow exposed him to his opponent, who flung the immortal into a tree before ripping his shirt off in a temper tantrum. His foe was resourceful, but by the agitated look in the man’s demeanor he could tell the bastard was low on tricks.

Using all his speed and agility Jensen launched himself forwards, punch knife held to his side at the ready as his other hand gripped one of his iron Glaives. The thrown weapon in his fingertips was prepped to be released at a moment’s notice as he attacked the weakened arm of his foe. Though the man had tough skin, he already cut it, so perhaps he could use the wound to inflict more damage with his blade. In the meanwhile he figured he would stiffen his kicks and punches, as the man did seem to react to blunt blows.

“Let’s see how long you can dance for me, puppet!” Jensen let out another hysterical laughter as he felt his blood begin to flow around his heart and pump his body with fresh adrenaline. With ease he slipped into his favored combative stance of Caeiporiea, each movement in time to a rhythm only the immortal could hear. He danced with glee towards his foe, flipping and cart wheeling just out of range to entice his foe inwards where he would punish each missed attack with a kick.

When Jensen came closer, his foe let out a haymaker aimed for his temple. With ease given to him from years of fighting William Arcus he let the blow breeze past his face, body tilted downwards to allow him to knee the body of his foe. When he connected the attack the immortal let out a grunt of pain and a giggle as the feeling of kicking a stone made his upper thigh spasm. Jensen twirled backwards, bringing his body in tight as he waited for another opportunity. He had to be patient and strike at the right time like a viper. Eventually one mistake would give the Ixian Knight the advantage he needed.

Another tight hook came for Jensen's ribs, and again he turned his body to avoid the swing. In his rotation he let out a joyous laughter as his foot came out in a stiff kick to the opponent's kidney. His foe's eyes lit up like a struck match, illuminating the pain as he let out a grunt of pent of frustration and pain. The awkward buckling of his knees indicated extreme pain and discomfort, and it was then the immortal knew he found his opening.

Obnoxious laughter echoed in the tree line, the skylight making their shadows dance along the open path as leaves and dirt kicked up while they scuffled. Jensen remained on the offensive, blow after blow with brutal, short toe kicks to the man's kidneys and knees continued to chop the man down to size. When the man who tried to blow him up lurched forwards, mouth open in a silent scream Jensen let out another chorus of cackles as he began to slam his boots repeatedly into the spin of his foe. He did not know much about his opponent, but he did know that the average human body could not endure his assault much longer.

[Rayse Valentino]

Rayse turned around and lowered his body after Jensen's last attack, throwing his fist up in an uppercut that the man dodged with a sidestep. He tried to follow it up with a roundhouse kick but Jensen stepped into it and smashed his fist into the side of Rayse's face, sending him reeling backwards.

'This little shit!' He thought as he rubbed his bruised cheek.

Jensen was putting his entire body weight into each of those kicks, and the punches had stopping power. If he hadn't hardened his skin he would have some broken bones by now, but it wouldn't be long until his defense fell apart. He considered pulling out his knife, but there would be no point if he was too slow to use it. Not only that, but it could be used against him if he wasn't careful. It was unexpected, but Jensen's priorities shifted towards taking care of Rayse before doing anything else. Did this mean that he would give chase?

The Don threw out another series of unsuccessful punches, and skirted a boot to the knee by twisting his body, but this gave Jensen the opportunity to sweep the back of his calves and make him fall to the ground. His back hit the dirt road, and before he knew it the man had another dagger in his hand and was jabbing it downwards into Rayse's throat. He grabbed Jensen's wrist, squeezing tightly and pushing the dagger upwards away from his throat. Jensen's continuous laughed disappeared for a moment as the searing heat from Rayse's touch burned into his flesh, with sizzling smoke rising from his wrist. He momentarily succumbed to the pain and allowed Rayse to throw Jensen off of him, sending him tumbling across the dirt and into the grass leading into the forest.

Rayse got up and shook out his arms, and with each heavy breath came a jolt of pain from his arm and the rest of the bruises all over his body. This was his opportunity to lead Jensen away, so he broke into a sprint down the road, looking back to see if the man was following him, and indeed he was. Jensen was catching up fast, skipping along as if the burn mark on his right wrist was just a new tattoo.

[Enigmatic Immortal]

Little cuss really singed me something fierce there. Good thing I had these gloves, Jensen mused with a grin as he gave chase yet again. Though his shins ached from his vicious attack style and his wrists would need healing balms to repair the damage, the result of his persistence was undeniable. The onslaught allowed him to gain the upper hand and strike critical wounds to his foe to make him flee rather than stay to fight. However, other than showing him up with a few kicks, he just could not find a way to keep him down. He had to give the man credit where credit was due. He blew Jensen up, nearly set him ablaze, and took the very best of Jensen’s Caieporiea one hit after the other with not even a grimace.

It reminded him of his bouts with William Arcus, the General of the Monster Hunting team back on the Ixian Knights home front. The Demonkin had accepted the brunt of Jensen’s most brutal attacks, returning them with equal vigor to destroy the immortal. The difference here was the asshole ran like a rabbit at the first opportunity. The knight could not stand the thought of letting such a resourceful foe get away. The man proved he could be a thorn at any point and thus to leave him would have been just ignorant and foolish.

With a giddy cry of mirth the immortal managed to get within three steps of his quarry, fingers reaching outwards as he felt the fabric of his foe’s shirt. The soft, smooth silk was like running his hands along the edge of water, even with his leather gloves he could tell the quality was of professional levels. When he bunched up the cloth and began to tug he dug one heel into the ground. The momentum of both warrior’s made him kick up the dirt in a little trail that made a trench as he slid, the sounds of crunching gravel and snapping twigs sent birds into flight.

His foe turned with a violent jerk, arm outreached in a backwards clothesline. His elbow connected with Jensen’s jaw, white flashes followed by momentary darkness flooding the immortal’s eyes. The knight released the prey, lifting his hand up and stiffening the forearm muscles as another elbow attempted to push him away. When he felt the skin connect with his flesh he brought his free hand up and gripped his foe by the arm. He lowered his blocking arm, his other arm pulling back on the caught appendage. He turned so that he stepped into his opponent, lowering himself into a bow as he snapped the enemy over his back.

The body glided over his back, arms flailed outwards, feet moved end over end as the body slammed hard onto the dirt. A small trace of dust lifted into the air followed by a grunt of exhaustion. Jensen wasted no time as he fell to one knee, fingers balled into a fist as he brought it down in a hammer blow with no elegance or technique. It was a solid punch meant to end his foe, the studded metal knuckles brought to the ready as the leather creaked from the tension in his strike.

The blow connected with the ground and the muscles in his hand pulsed in pain. The tingling sensation ran up and down his arm, and he seethed with clenched teeth his frustrations as he shut his eyes for a wary moment. The immortal heard the ground and gravel creak, and looked forwards to see the foe’s hand come up, something spilling from his fingers. He realized to late that what the opponent clutched in his hand as it opened, debris from the ground flying into Jensen’s eyes and mouth.

The knight coughed violently as he stood up, both hands wiping his eyes as he cussed. He could hear the gravel shifting before him, and soon his stomach felt a sharp pain. He coughed again, this time something coming up his esophagus, turning his body to avoid another sharp blow to his body. He felt blinded and winded as another strike hit him in the kidney causing him to stumble forwards and down to a knee. Before he fell forwards onto his hands he felt his arm gripped tightly by his foe, followed by an open palm strike to his elbow. He screamed in pain, the noise coming out as a sickening cough as Jensen’s body felt overloaded with pain and exertion. His lungs burned like the fires of a forge with each tormented breath. The tears in his eyes stung him like a thousand bee stings as the dirt was flushed out. When he fell on all fours he collapsed onto his wounded arm and balled up into the fetal position.

He cradled his arm, blood pouring out his mouth as he cleared his windpipe and brought fresh air into his lungs. He managed to open one eye before it was tightly shut while his spine tingled in crippling agony from a stiff kick. Jensen felt the pain wrack his body as he desperately tried to catch the enemy off guard somehow. Each failed attempt to grip his opponent’s leg when he struck him was a painful blow, and where he once pondered how much abuse his foe could take, he now wondered how much he could take.

[Rayse Valentino]

A fiery after-image of Rayse oscillated from left to right, making it seem as though he was always shifting his body, even though it wasn't moving that fast. Each of his attacks followed the last with no loss of momentum, his constant motion unstoppable even by him. There was a reason for this maddening offensive, this reinvigorated speed and motion. Flames danced around his skin. It looked like he was on fire.

Back when Jensen had him on the ground with nowhere to go, his fist hit the dirt. It happened so fast that maybe the immortal didn't see it, but Rayse had dropped his steel-skin ability and turned his body into fire, reforming it right in front of the Ixian to throw some dirt in his face. It was the only move he could make, since his evasion only preserved the momentum of him raising his hand from the ground.

As he took his next kick to Jensen's spine as he seemed helpless on the ground, the immortal somehow produced a dagger and grabbed onto The Don's ankle. Does he ever give up?! Taken aback, Rayse tried to shake him off but saw the dagger about to be stabbed into his leg and turned it into fire, allowing a shocked Jensen to stab through disappearing flames and impale the blade into the ground. Rayse backed up on one foot as his other leg reformed, and then put both feet firmly on the ground. When he was this way, he couldn't stay mad. As his after-images shifted left and right, he felt a certain rhythm that relaxed all his muscles. He felt a sharp pain in his back that made it hurt to walk, his left fingers twitched from the pain of the cut he took earlier, and the feeling was starting to come back into the bruised skin from all the kicks.

He took a deep breath, and looked around, surprisingly allowing Jensen a chance to get back up. He looked to the suit he discarded up the road and flicked a spark to it, immediately settling it ablaze. Good thing I don't pay my tailor to ask questions. The kind of fire he flicks reduces flammable objects to ash in minutes, if the fire is allowed to continue. What was he doing? Getting rid of evidence. At this point, he figured Jensen wouldn't follow him, but rather try to get away.

With one eye closed, Jensen spit some blood onto the road and complained, "What's the matter, hot shot? Afraid I can't take the heat?" To him, it was like he was fighting an entirely different opponent. He was finally getting hit due to increased speed, but the punches lacked that metallic feel to them.

Rayse sighed and looked up at the clear sky, "You think we can take a smoke break?

Jensen coughed, then smiled, "Sure, think we can meet back here at nine? Gotta put the kid to sleep, after all." One of his eyes was still closed.

Reaching down, Rayse pulled up his right pant leg and relieved his knife, Kapteyn, from its strap on his shin. He gripped it tightly in his right hand and admired its make. He's had this thing for so long, but it was still the best weapon he'd ever had. To be honest, Jensen was still probably faster than him even with this perpetual momentum, but due to the damage of fighting him with steel skin, Rayse had worn him down to the point where he could fight like this now. He was worn down himself, but the condition of his body was irrelevant for this next attack.

"Sorry, I got plans. I guess we'll have to wrap this up."

Putting his knife in front, his shoes left the ground in an instant, his body already flying at Jensen, who seemed a bit perplexed because that sort of moved assumed that he was right next to him instead of several meters away. It didn't help matters when Rayse's body turned to flames and disappeared, the little barely-visible wisps of fire reappearing behind the immortal and forming Rayse's body. Preserving his momentum, he was still flying in the same direction, which was now away from Jensen, but he was slicing his knife horizontally, right in line with the Ixian's neck. The knight's turn was like in slow motion compared to the knife, but he pulled forward just in time to feel the knife cut through the back of his neck but not his windpipe. Rayse continued flying backwards and landed on the ground a few meters behind Jensen, the blood dripping off his blade.

The immortal grabbed his neck and turned around, a new throwing glaive in his right hand. That was too close for comfort. In a very short amount of time, he had gone from the offensive to the defensive, because of this 'disappearing into fire' bullshit! There was no telling what this guy would do next if he stayed immobile, but he couldn't do anything reckless. He decided to probe the enemy for some weakness.

If his uncle used waterdancing, Rayse would call this firedancing. All of his attacks, even ones that looked like they were made with just a limb, had his entire body behind them because of the preserved momentum. What kind of lame-ass name is that? Fire dancing. I mean, really. The fact is, due to his back, which may be thrown out but he just wasn't feeling it at the moment, he couldn't dodge normally anymore. He could only turn the affected area into fire to dodge, and there was a limited number of times he could do that. He had to end this with the next attack. Throwing his knife to the left hand, his right hand curled up into a ball except for his index finger and thumb, which was resting on the ring on the aforementioned finger. He pulled it back behind him so Jensen couldn't see it, holding his armed left hand out for defense.

Let's do this.

[Enigmatic Immortal]

Jensen observed the man before him while one hand clasped to the wound on his neck. Through the cracks in his fingers the crimson liquid dripped over the small creases on his fingers before it cascaded to the dirt like a leaky faucet. Heavy pains his chest caused him to pant as his one eye scanned the foe with determination to see him dead. Though his newest trick had caused the immortal to stumble in the fight, he could see the pain in his hunched over stance. They were both nearing their limits, and they both knew it. Now came the standoff, the showdown where both warriors would wait for the other to make the mistake.

Jensen perked his head up, the strain in his neck like a thousand pin needles as he cursed softly to himself taking in a deep breath. He looked to his foe and thought for a moment, then with a chuckle the immortal lowered one bloodied hand outwards in an informal salute to his opponent.

“Name’s Jensen Ambrose,” The knight spoke softly, eyes never leaving his opponents. “I generally like to do introductions before we beat the shit out of each other, but well, all that went out the window when you blew me up. Didn’t catch your name, pal,”

“Never really offered it,” The man replied with a casual flick of his knife. He brought the weapon to his fingernails, lips pursed in a dissatisfied scowl as he mumbled to himself about hygiene. “I prefer in my line of work to keep things on a need to know basis.” Jensen looked at his bloodied hands, the leather gloves he wore were slowly stained red with the amount of blood he had shed from himself and his foe.

The immortal took two steps forwards, and the knife pointed down again at Jensen’s chest. He took a few more steps forwards, his distance a mere jump away from the man who had caused him such a headache. “I’ve been wondering something,” Jensen wagged a finger as he spoke, eyes casting doubt upon the man before him. “You are not like the enemy I’ve been fighting. Not like the enemy Sei’s army has been fighting. You got a style to you that is unique. A set of, ethics so to speak, that this army hasn’t run into when dealing with the primordial enemy. So when I ask this question, I want you to do me the favor and answer it honestly.”

The man looked to him with suspicion, knife held at the ready. The wind rustled the trees again as the leave started to fall yet again around them in a swirling tornado. “Who the fuck do you work for?” Jensen asked. “And are you using the Ring of the Sun to transport the enemy army?”

[Rayse Valentino]

Oh what the hell, it's not like he's gonna remember any of this anyhow. I could use this time to rest my back. He kept his right index finger extended on his right hand at his side, a little anxious to burn Jensen to a crisp.

"You must be joking," he sneered. "I couldn't care less about the imps you've been fighting." He was annoyed that Jensen's knowledge of The Rings. It wasn't in the scouting report that he knew of them. However, it was hard to conceal something so big that handled so much material at once. Dozens of workers operated it, and it only took one of them to snitch. Moving that thing would be a top priority when he got out of this. Getting a little ahead of myself here. "I was a little curious how much of a threat your band of merry men posed to me, hearing the oh-so-glorious story about how you're one of the top men. I have to say: I'm not impressed."

Jensen raised a brow, "So we're doing this shit for no reason? You know, with all the people in danger, and your apparent skill, I don't know your people and mine can't work together. The threat the enemy poses to both of us-"

"Is none."

"What? You saw what they've done so far. You gonna tell me that doesn't impress you either?"

"I'll tell you this: What I've been preparing for is not you guys or the things you're fighting." Rayse took a step forward, which was a painstaking move but showed that his spine was still in one piece. He could take a few risks. "It's been fun, but I'd really prefer it if you guys would stop bugging me though, so I'm going to set an example and wipe you out. No hard feelings."

"If you wanted an ass kicking so bad, you should've just asked!"

Lifting his right hand, Rayse pointed his index finger at Jensen and jolted his thumb across the ring on the finger. The immortal's eyes widened but the speed of the pellet of fire now flying at him was too great. A great explosion overtook him.

Jumping forward at great strain, Rayse disappeared into fire and appeared within the mass of flames he had just created, grabbing the inflamed Jensen out of the blast by the shoulders and pushing him forward with his preserved momentum. As his feet touched down on the ground, he flung the immortal into the trees, where one of the proximity bombs he placed earlier detonated. Rayse fell to one knee after this action, feeling his muscles almost go into shock from the strain.

The explosion from the bomb shook the very earth, uprooting trees and making a huge cloud of dust rise into the air. Even one of the Forgotten Ones would have a tough time walking away from that. However, Jensen rose up before, and there was no way of knowing if he was dead for sure. The shockwave from his bomb knocked even The Don over, and he was lying on his back gasping for breath afterward.

In the end, he was disappointed. He couldn't do this using his original method of preserving his abilities. Like a flickering flame at the end of a candle's lifespan, Rayse's battle ability was a strong but short rush to get rid of his opponent. He couldn't afford to go all-out on everyone who posed a challenge. Damn it! At this rate I'll never be strong enough to accomplish my goals. I need to rethink my options before opening up shop again. While he had Prince and a couple of former Lieutenants of Denebriel working for him now, it wasn't enough. He tried lifting his head to look into the dusty fog for Jensen, his head fall back onto the dirt road.

Pulling his locket out of his shirt, he gripped it tightly and moved the outer rim in a clockwise fashion. It opened, and behind the picture of the thorny, blood-red rose, The Bloodrose, was a hidden button. He pushed it, and within moments his body began phasing into nothingness. He would be transported back to the Ring of The Sun, where he could recover. In any case, he had bought enough time for the operation to conceal itself. Thanks to The Forget Orb, even if Jensen survived he wouldn't remember anything about Rayse or his abilities, including what was said or heard.

As some of The Salvaran Syndicate's people were helping him up and getting him to an infirmary in the facility, he pulled out a pack of smokes and a chill ran down his bruised spine: I left the fucking cigarette!

Requested Spoils:
The Company controls +2% of Salvar's businesses/+1% of Corone's businesses
The Salvaran Syndicate controls +2% of Salvar's Black Market-Underground/+1% of Corone's Black Market-Underground

[Enigmatic Immortal]

The dust cloud hadn’t settled for nearly twenty minutes when the bomb went off. Like a brown blizzard the particles swirled around the enigmatic immortal’s still body, one leg draped over an overturned log, the other leg littered with debris and shards of rocks and wood to the point it looked like a mince meat pie. His chest heaved up and down as one hand rested upon his heart, shirt torn asunder with bare threads covering his burnt and bleeding flesh. What parts of his hair that hadn’t ignited in the explosion were dripping off beads of blood and sweat that blinded the one eye that never recovered from the improvised attack of his enemy. His lips, cracked and bruised, were pursed tightly in pain, until at last his lungs felt like fire and the stomach ache threatened to become worse. When he opened his lips he let out a sound that chased whatever wildlife had though to investigate the change in their delicate eco-system.

Laughter echoed from tree branch to tree branch. It bounded off the leaves, the wail of mirth carried to the heavens itself as he opened his last bloodshot eye and began to weakly pound the dirt with his fist in a fit of giggles. Fire cracked and popped silently around him as he continued to weakly wheeze and laugh as he thought about the battle he just did. By far Jensen did not think of the don as a foe greater than William Arcus. Instead he admired the man’s ability to be resourceful, his dedication to ensuring Jensen was thoroughly defeated. No, not the best fight, but sure as well one of the better ones.

It was an hour before Jensen could even feel like moving. His muscles twitched and shifted under his strength, the exertion making even him pause to wait. Several times he felt the eldritch energy of the Storm Herald’s power keeping his body alive. Bloody fingers grabbed a thick branch to use as a makeshift crutch, and with the aid of half burnt out tree he found the strength the stand. When he released the tree he collapsed into it, laughing as he slid back to his butt.

There was no point in trying to be a hero and walk out on his own feet. Talen had known full well that Jensen was the first response team, but the child general had to know to send in another. It was only a matter of time until help arrived. He sighed to himself, looking at his body and seeing the pulsing green glow force shards of wood and rather large amounts of dirt out of his chest slowly. He looked to the wounds on his leg and noted that the breath of the undying did not confer to that wound. He shrugged as it all made sense; The power of the Storm Herald demanded that if Jensen were to die, you would need to be more than thorough. One needed not only to have the mindset to willingly go beyond the norms of human decency, but have the means to overkill the immortal as well. And even then, it would be one day’s time before Jensen would be back on his feet. That however meant that it was only for keeping him alive, not in fighting capacity.

In his personal thoughts his fingers shifted over the dirt and he felt a rather odd, soft paper roll with his desecrated digits. He looked down to see one half used cigarette resting on the ground. He looked at it, and realized instantly who it belonged to. It was…

…Jensen frowned in agitation. Something had not felt right in his mind. He thought more about the fight, could remember bits and pieces, but not the face, not the style, nothing about his foe he just fought. His eyes, his hair color, all of those identifying features had vanished from his mind. Angrily he looked around for something, but found nothing that could spark a memory. He looked down at the butt in his numb fingers, fumbling over it as he intently looked to it. Whoever it was, he smoked. Not the best option to go off of. Yet it was a start.

His ear’s still rang like crazy when the moon started to rise as the sun began to settle. Jensen did not hear the arrival of the group from Ixian Castle, but saw them soon enough. He debated on telling them what he forgot, but instead merely pocketed the cancerous stick and closed his eyes. They grabbed his aching body and when he was placed on the cart he fell asleep with little problems.

~*~*~

“I’m sorry,” Talen Shadowalker steeped his fingers together as he flexed each digit in time with the opposite. “I just refuse to think that you, of all people, don’t recall the face of the person you fought. He blew you up twice, and last I heard your immortal regeneration didn’t block out memories from previous lives. So understand that I have a hard time swallowing your excuse.”

Jensen shrugged in his chair, his coat tugging at his shoulders as he did so. It was three days after the incident and when he returned to Ixian Castle he woozily stormed his way to the monster hunter’s private quarters, forced the door open, and looked right at the charred flesh of his eternal rival. With no words even spoke the demon understood Jensen’s plight. Lifting up a heavy crossbow and loading it with an arrow the size of Jensen’s face he aimed it level at his face.

When the immortal awoke he was in Aislinn Orlouge’s medical ward, the witch stirring around him uncomfortably. She had asked her questions, and he answered them as best he could before he got the summons to see Talen in his home. A new jacket was brought to him, since his old one had burned in the forest he fought in. A fresh change of clothes was also left for him by his fiancé along with a note for when he woke up. He read it, laughed at the death threat, and went to see the child general. When he told his story Talen had remained quite only long enough to give Jensen a sad look of one who could not believe what he heard.

“Call it what you will, bed wetter,” Jensen sassed to the general. “I. Don’t. Remember.” He spelt it out for the boy, getting up.

“Did you at least get a glimpse of the Ring of the Sun?” Talen called to him.

“Nope, sorry.” Talen merely waved him off as he turned to his desk and pulled out a notepad. Jensen left him to be as he stalked the grounds of the Ixian castle. Each cobblestone clicked as his new boots slapped against them, one hand rubbing his head in thought. Though he could not recall his faceless friend, perhaps he could use another method. A memory popped up off the first time Jensen and Aislinn met. They had a fight, and he shoved his jacket to the witch and told her to look for the answers herself. Turned out she used a little spell and got the winds of magic to offer up a glimpse of his past. If she could do that, perhaps she could do it again on him.

The white walls of the medical ward were always a serene feeling to Jensen, even in the moonlight as he headed right for her door. He could have waited he supposed for the morning, but he had a tingling feeling in his spine that she would be up anyway. The girl did work herself half to death. With a quick rap of his knuckles on her door and a second of waiting she unlocked the wooden portal and opened it. Jensen stepped in, turning to look at her as he shut the door behind them.

“Hey Ais,” Jensen said in greeting. Aislinn smiled to Jensen warmly as she went to her table and sat, offering Jensen to join her. The immortal did so, hooking one of his feet around the leg of the table and spinning it towards him where he sat.

“Good evening, Jensen,” She replied when he sat. “To what do I owe you this late night meeting?” Jensen looked to her before taking stock of the room. He wanted to be sure Talen was not tracking him. Confident that he was free to speak the immortal looked back to his friend.

“You can scry things, see into the past. Could you see into my past and tell me who I fought?” Aislinn gave him off look, an eyebrow raised in confusion at the rather odd request. She took a moment before she shook her head.

“I apologize, Jensen, but I cannot.” She lifted a hand to retrain him from angrily getting up. “I need something from the event to scry with. My technique is not meant to be used on people. I would not work. Sadly, we burned you clothes when you returned as well. But, as luck would have it, I do have your personal belongings.” She lifted herself and went to find a small wooden box, no bigger than a jewelry case. Jensen titled his head in thought.

“Could you use one of those items?”

“I suppose I could,” Aislinn said opening the box of items and looking at them. “But the items are tied to your memory. If I scry them I would only scry the event that took place as you saw it. The other downfall in this plan.” She tossed the box on the table and sat across from him again with a grim smile. “I do not wish to sound unhelpful Jensen, but that is just the way it works.”

“No I get it,” Jensen though dismally. “I just was hoping to find this fucker and take him down.” He sighed collecting his belongings as he stood up, before he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. He shoved the wallet out of his way and looked down upon something that made him grin.

“So the item has to belong to the person you are scrying?” Aislinn nodded her head and Jensen let out a predatory chuckle lifting up one item to Aislinn:

The cigarette butt.

[Yari Rafanas]

Pre-emptive-Strike

Good thread, guys.

Plot: 19.5/30

Story - 6 – The story overall had a very solid feel. Obviously a chunk of the thread's work went into the brutal battle in the forest, but it was properly bookended by events that are bound to lead into interesting threads.

Strategy – 7.5 – Excellent work here from Rayse bringing a very unique style to the fight. Both characters used their style and abilities to bring a really solid flow and pace to the battle. I had a bit of a problem with the mines, though. Not that they existed... just that the second one was a bit too conveniently placed for me. If you had worked some foreshadowing in or hinted that Rayse was planning to drop him into a mine at the end it would have settled with me easier.

Setting - 6 – I felt this category was the missed opportunity here. The forest was used well in the fight, but I felt mostly removed from it.

Characterization: 20.5/30

Continuity – 7.5 – The many histories included from Jensen and the intro into the current status of the Ixian Knights was greatly appreciated. A lot of you have been building these stories for a while and I am an outsider looking in, so this was good for me.

Interaction – 7 – I don't really want to read about your leather gloves creaking ever again, Immortal. I'd avoid repeating that phrase every other post, especially since it was such a tiny detail.

Character - 6 – A very convincing performance from both parties here, but no real growth or anything unique between the two enemies that really warranted extra points here.

Style: 21.5/30

Creativity – 6.5 – I liked some of the imagery from you both, but I think some of the more dramatic moments of the battle could have had a little extra color. Some of the battle descriptions read more like profile explanations.

Mechanics – 8.5 – Minor mistakes mentioned below:
Clarity – 6.5 Some run ons that had me read over a paragraph more than once, and there were some misspellings that were very jarring.

Wildcard: 7.5 – For your patience and cooperation.

Total Score: 63

EXP:
Rayse Valentino gains 748 EXP
Enigmatic Immortal gains 923 EXP

Loot! (Kinda):

Rayse Valentino's actions result in the following:
The Company controls +2% of Salvar's businesses/+1% of Corone's businesses
The Salvaran Syndicate controls +2% of Salvar's Black Market-Underground/+1% of Corone's Black Market-Underground

[Silence Sei]

GP-Exp added

EI leveled