Let the Sin Begin

[IvanOoze]

(This will be my first Dansdel Duel, and it is closed to Pavel.)

Captivity was cold.

At least it was a hell of a lot more frigid than the Raiaera winters had been on the pale-faced reptile's layered skin. It had been about three months since Gorax had been captured in the wilds of Raiaera. Ninety days of him being awaken just to be beaten down by the cruel games of his captors. He knew his count was close because every day he wore a new scar. Or lost another scale. Something that didn't go unnoticed by a reptile.

In that time he had been shackled for countless hours, beaten severly, starved, and sold to some powerful druids in Underwood. A safe bet would be to say that he was pretty pissed off, but the gamblers money would say he was ready to rip off the next persons head he could get his scaly hands on. He'd probably make that person's head into a centerpiece for his imaginary dinner table, only after he was finished draining their crimson fluids and feasting on their brain tissues. It was the way of the Western Wyrm, which was probably the reason he found himself in his current state of slavery.

For the time being he was a slave. Not one that did hard labor for some overbearing and quite rich fief in Salvar, but one that would test a warriors strength in the arenas of the Dansdel. It wasn't his first choice, but then again he didn't really have a choice. All he had were his thoughts of escape and his memories of better days when he could inflict pain at will. Those thoughts, and of course the druids revival magic, were what kept him going from day to day on his repetitive mouse-track lifestyle.

This particular day in the Dansdel began like any other had in the previous three months. Gorax was awoken by the prods of iron tipped spears that were weilded by several heavily armored, and very angry looking, guards. He was escorted, in shackles, down a winding hall that he could now walk blindfolded without a hitch. He would be pushed into a barren dirt pit, one that was surrounded on all sides by walls of stones and mortar, and left there for several hours. In that time he would be given back his sword, the only item found on him when he was enslaved. He had named the blood-stained, steel sword "The Serpants Wrath" at the time he had acquired it several hundred years prior.

After sitting alone for some time, inattentive to the druid eyes that watched him closely, the arena around him would fill with eager men, women, and children from Underwood who wanted nothing more than to see him fail. They feared the green beast and were fed stories of his wrathful life before imprisonment. Stories about how many women he had killed. How many children he had devoured. How many families he had ruined. The stories were all true, but there was one minor fact that was a lie. The druids could never really fathom, or assume, just how many lives he had taken in his two-thousand years of life. It was a mystery to his captors and even to the hated wyrm. One could only guess that the death-toll was in the ten thousands, or possibly more.

The difference of this day from the rest was that after about thirty minutes of being yelled at by innocent children and scolded by their parents, he would finally meet his opponent. A fox-like creature who the announcers of the arena called a "kitsune," and like clockwork the people filling the arena grew silent.

They were eager to see today's hero.

The person, or creature, who would die (or slay) the infamous Western Wyrm.

[~Humphrey_Nonyton~]

Normally, Humphrey killed for sport.

However, the latest contract was not a normal circumstance at all.

Reading the document handed to him by his superior officers at the cathedral of Underwood, Humphrey frowned heavily. Looking from the document to the man before him, the kitsune's eyes move back to the document in his hands. Are they out of their minds?! Humphrey thought to himself as he considered the proposal at hand. Let me get this straight, they want me to go to The Dansdel, and get pitted against a considerably skilled Makai, and all for what?! The satisfaction and the love of onlooking fans?! Humphrey had a bewildered expression on his handsome, fox-face. His eyes were serious as he looked at his superior. A man within the cathedral's ranks that he had worked for some time prior. Humphrey recalled the other demon-busting job when that ogre thing stalked Underwood's outlying sectors.

It was a warm afternoon in May. The sixteenth. The hour was a third hour with fifteen minutes to spare. Humphrey neatly rolled the document in his hand and prepared to hand it back to the stunned clergyman before him.

"No thanks." Humphrey said. "The code is strict about this sort of thing, I don't use the warder powers for sport, Makai or not." Humphrey said, and turned around to prepare to take his leave.

The older human placed a stern hand upon the makai hunter's shoulder.

"Humphrey please." The priest begged. "There is no other warder for hundreds of miles in every direction in Corone. Your people exists aplenty in Akashima, but here they are a scarce lot. Even if I could summon someone else, they wouldn't have the experience that you have." The priest said, attempting to convince the skeptic. Then he finally said what he had been hiding from Humphrey all along. "Your service to the robe depends on this matter." Humphrey stopped at those words and sighed heavily. "I didn't want to have to say those words, but you have left me with little choice in the matter. I was told you would cooperate immediately in this matter, now I am forced to take more drastic measures. I'm sorry Humphrey. You are quite skilled and we would hate to loose you, but this is a service to our order. Consider this a deal-breaker." The priest said.

Humphrey sighed again, and turned around, his expression was bitter.

"I'll take the job." Humphrey began. He took the scroll back from the priest's hands, snatching it quickly. "But consider our friendship over." Humphrey said that last part with a growl for emphasis.

***

The Dandsdel. It was a monumental structure that reminded Humphrey of The Citadel in Radasanth. He had battled oft in The Citadel, and wondered if The Dansdel Leagues operated similarly to The Citadel Leagues. Humphrey's tail swished eagerly as the announcer called his name out and introduced him to the gathered hundreds who were observing The Dansdel battle. Humphrey saw a wretch ahead, it was a creature that appeared to be severely wounded and on the verge of starvation. Humphrey pitied weakened Makai the most. They were savages and were oft like cornered rats, capable of desperate measures and tactics. Humphrey entered the arena when he was signaled to do so by a heavily armed guard. These Dansdel folk appear to be quite serious. Humphrey thought to himself.

He drew his masterwork kitana.

Holding it with two hands, the grip felt just right against his movements. He walked with his weapon held at a middle center of gravity, with his sword held evenly with the tip pointing away from Humphrey. The blade was parallel to the ground an cast it's shadow upon it. Now Humphrey was a skilled demon slayer, and he was looking forward to an epic battle from the wretch before him. Approaching the wretch, Humphrey's sword began to glow with the enchantment on it. I know my old friend. Together we shall send this fiend back to the twisting nether. Where it belongs. Humphrey's eyes locked upon the form of the wretch, his muscles were tightening into knots. The wind picked up around the arena, and Humphrey's loose priestly garb danced about his muscular, athletic frame. Humphrey was built for speed, and not strength, so his body was lithe.

When he reached the creature before him, he could smell a powerful taint coming from it.

"You're disgusting, Makai. You're all alike." Humphrey said, acid in his voice. "I am here to end you." Humphrey stopped all forward movement, and leaned slightly backwards. His calves tightened, he was prepared to leap forward should the need arrive. But he held his position, eager to see the skill level of the opponent before him. The acrobat and demon slayer was ready.

[IvanOoze]

The Wyrm didn't fear his foe or even pay much attention to the loathsome taunts that spewed like water from a faucet. He had heard it all before. The angry cries and slanderous put-downs. To Gorax his opponent was no more original than the last eight-nine men who had sought to dispose of him. Just another day and another duel. What the kitsune didn't understand about the Wyrm was that fighting was his life, now more so than ever. He didn't go home to a pretty wife and spoiled kids. He didn't waste precious moments eating, or worrying about how he was going to impress the next beautiful lass he came across. His nights were spent in an unbearable cell, far away from the simple worries of life.

He had very little to lose and that was his greatest weapon.

Instead of replying to the furry hero's attempts at intimidation the Wyrm simply yawned. He wasn't tired in the least. No physically anyway. However, he was a bit bored of the same routine every day. There was no thrill involved. He knew that tomorrow, regardless if he died, he would wake up via spear-point and be forced to fight another chosen challenger. He knew that whether he lived or died it was going to be a long time before he could escape from his current hell. That not even death could end his restless state of suffering.

"Ughhh, you looks like foods." Gorax said, pausing between every word to showcase his current state of decrepitude. "You smells like fat Akashima creature, but you looks like ripe meats."

Gorax licked his lips trying to imagine what the kitsune might taste like. Fighting hard to imagine what his insides might smell like.

"Just gives me one taste. Let me see if your blood is as red as the last Akashimian I ripped apart and feasted on." Gorax could almost taste the crimson fluid on his pale lips as he wetted his scabby lips with his emerald tongue. It excited him into a blood lust that wouldn't be put to rest until somebody was cut down by the cold steel of a sword.

With the blood lust set into play the Wyrm was unpredictable. His very mental stability would be called into question in the moments to come, because he was about to go into a rage that was only quenchable by death or the taste of raw flesh.

"Come, come now and meet my blade!" The Wyrm shouted.

The Wyrm ended his speech by lifting The Serpents Wrath towards the sky in a hasty manner. His finger clenched tightly around the swords hilt as if he were trying to apply enough pressure to strangle someone. He was ready to taste blood and there was very little the kitsune could do to deny him that.

[~Humphrey_Nonyton~]

Humphrey had been underestimated before.

The acrobat knew that it wouldn't be the last time he would be underestimated.

There would be many more foolish enough to make the same mistake when viewing the holy warrior's noble visage.

Humphrey did not know what his opponent was thinking, he only knew what his opponent was doing. The creature had taken an aggressive combat-position which belied the skill level that it possessed. Humphrey raised a furry eyebrow. Retaining his own combat position, the makai slayer rotated his weapon with both hands several times and positioned the tip of his blade so it faced forward at his opponent. He had subtly shifted his center of gravity so that one leg was further behind the other, he was leaning back against the hunched leg. His calve muscles bunched up tightly as he stood in position, his leg knotted and coiled like a serpent ready to strike. Humphrey's tail swished eagerly as he smelled the desperation in his opponent. Humphrey had keen fox-like senses and was capable of inflicting great harm upon the demon.

When the moment had arrived, Humphrey readied his main weapon. Aspect of Gingitsu. Summoning up and burning some costly ki energy, the kitsune demon slayer prepared his basic aspect. A symbol manifested upon the sword he wielded, and then, energy burned from deep within Humphrey's soul. The sun-glasses that Humphrey flashed for a moment, and Humphrey released stored power. Knowing it would pack quite a whallop, the kitsune released the aspect. Crackling through the air, a beam-weapon of precise design swelled off the tip of the blade, symbols glowing on the weapon. Each symbol charged the blast, and sent it cascading forward towards his opponent.

Since the creature was unavoidably Makai, Humphrey knew he would cause great damage to the warrior before him.

The beam traveled quickly towards it's intended target. Humphrey was not picky, he would take any hit. The glorious light would punch through the clothing of the beast. Inevitably, it would punch through it's flesh. Humphrey knew that, he had seen it a million times before. When the blast had passed, Humphrey was on the move. His powerfully coiled leg muscle released like a coiled spring. Humphrey leaped powerfully through the air, which was his biggest strength. Being airbourne, and on the move. Humphrey readied his sword in mid-air. Using his acrobatic skills, he leaped the distance between himself and where he supposed his opponent would move to if he evaded the obviously telegraphed maneuver.

He supposed that if the creature move, his movement options were limited cause of the heavy looking sword. The man appeared to be muscle, and not litheness. Humphrey was lithe, and he would use all his acrobatic skill to his advantage. In mid-air, Humphrey attacked revealing the two-pronged nature of his assault. The true nature of his aspect was a feint maneuver, he swung outward with a quick, albeit weak slash, that had a wide arching radius downwards towards his foe. He hoped to draw first blood with either maneuver. Either way the pain was coming. Either way, Humphrey was preparing a few move ahead so that he would ready the symbols necessary to end the foul creature before him. To Humphrey, the event was not a game, it was not business as usual, but it was another bastard Makai whose life would come to an end.