A Thousand Deaths (Closed)

[Duffy]

A Thousand Deaths (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T_WywlJPzNs&feature=related)



Closed To Enigmatic Immortal


Duffy had a secret. Despite all the trials and tribulations the troupe had been through, he, above all over things, did not like to lose. That feeling of helplessness in the moment of defeat was anathema to the plucky, happy-go-lucky person Duffy always strived to be. Of course, life was not a ride through a spring meadow, he knew that all too well, but a defeat was not something he could weather. With Lucian gone, and the troupe slowly frog-marching itself back to prosperity, he now had the time, the luxury, the form to right a few wrongs. Duffy Bracken had the time and all the time he could ever need, to attend to the niggling doubt at the back of his mind that he was not as much of a man as Jensen Ambrose was.

That narked him more than anything. So, imagine, for a brief moment, what it must have felt like to lose to that man. Whilst he had rectified their score so that it was level, and being equal was an honourable arrangement amongst like-minded fellows, Duffy did not feel like leaving their tale without an ending for any longer than it had to be so. On that very premise, revenge, or perhaps simple duty bound accord for the ancient laws of the Citadel fighting ring in Radasanth fair, Duffy had once again lain down the gauntlet to the Enigmatic Immortal. Three days prior, as he had done before their last encounter in the canteen of Silence Sei’s winter retreat, Ruby La Roux had waltzed up to Jensen and hand delivered a parchment. With a wink, she turned on a heel and departed in silence, fanning the flames of mystery and jealousy as stoically as her leather goitre and steel capped high heels could manage.

He had left it fairly open, and he had tried to not be threatening. The parchment, written in calligraphy and type set in a sprawling, spider script read as follows:




Dear Jensen,

As Captain’s and paragons of the values the Ixian Knights embody, it has come to my attention that the score between us on the matter of Citadel conflicts remains a tie. If we are to show our fellow captains, what little remains of their will and enthusiasm for the conflict with evil wherever it so rears its head, we must correct this injustice. I propose, as I did last time, that we reprise our serial and spar in Radasanth proper once again. You might, if you were to consider this a salvation to our stale mate, consider this a tie-breaker, a settling of a score and thus, a settling of an issue that has been of constant worry to me these last few months.

If you wish to engage in one last fruitful, relatively friendly dance in a world of crystal, gold and ivory, then meet me in the Citadel in three sunrises from the day you receive this invitation. I shall be waiting in the ninth dome, eager and abrupt, and we shall see what we both can make of our good fortunes of late.

Yours,

Duffy.


Dome nine held no significance to either of them, but it was there, at the correct time and place that Duffy awaited Jensen. They were blood brothers, and perhaps, in the time since they had formed that bond, they had become much more. He did not consider the notion that the Immortal brawler would ever refuse his offer; a fight to him after all, was very much a fight. The arena was a reprise of one of their previous encounters; a sprawling, many platformed worlds of crystalline levels. Each was a jagged, rough terrain housing many foot holds and many potholes. The slightest foul footing could shatter the delicate structures and send one free-falling down into an infinite darkness, or at least until the monks felt it necessary to abstain from taking pleasure in such suffering. Duffy had conjured the crystal world with something new, however, which he held in his hand until such a time came to reveal to Jensen – another of his ill-fated metaphors and moral lessons given form.

At the centre of the crystal world, on the largest platform of all, Duffy tapped his foot on one of the more solid masses of quartz. He wore loose-fitted black pantaloons, and a black sleeveless shirt which was skin tight. His shins, arms and upper shoulders were tightly wrapped with white silk and his hefty bracers and heavy gloves on his wrists gave his lithe form weight, substance, and the illusion of offence where in comparison, non-existed. His hair was eschew as ever and his dagger belt, three concentric loose fitting loops of leather was weighted heavily with his many spoils of war. Tooth, Nail, Wainwright’s Riposte glinted in the daylight. He eagerly balances, just for good measure you understand, the legendary Sword of the Western Weald in a neutral grip in his right hand.

Against such a frightful opponent, he had no choice but to come armed to the teeth. Dagger, sword, spell and acrobatics were only the first wave of his armoury however. To beat someone who could not be beat, you had to wield a menagerie of tricks and cantoris beyond the likes of steel and brute strength. He had honed his skills much since their last encounter, and Duffy secretly relished the thought of bringing the mantis prowl or the flurry of a lashing strike to bear against Jensen’s many stances fighting art. It would be epic, whoever rose as the victor, and he set his sights on the door with all the hopes of a young child waiting for his hot sweet potato.

[Enigmatic Immortal]

All bunnying I approve between Duffy and Jensen!

Jensen looked upon the oaken doors to the citadel with a grim smile. With note in hand he looked to the parchment again, reading everything with careful detail, before he sighed and lifted a second note. The second note was a translated version of the note Duffy gave the immortal. The flowery words, the high prolific speech had only served to confuse the hell out of the simple knight, but when he forced Ruby to tell him what it said he merely grinned and ran towards the place of battle.

Of course that meant Ruby had to chase Jensen, as he was rushing forwards three days early. She looked to Jensen with a scrutinizing eye, yet he could see the hidden desire to laugh at his antics as she lovingly drew up a quill, tapped the tip, and wrote what the note meant on a piece of scratch paper. With another wink, a bit of playful teasing, she placed the note in his jacket and turned walking away.

Now, three days later, Jensen crumbled up the second note and stepped forwards with a growing sense of anticipation, feeling all the blood in his body begin to course through his veins like liquid fire. His fingers couldn’t stay calm as they wiggled to feel a weapon in their grasp, his stomach gurgling with mirth as he chuckled to himself. Something about battle made the knight lose his self control, his lips unable to contain the boiling emotions of glee and joy. He relished battle, so much so that it felt wrong to try and hold back the tide of laughter building within his being.

Images of the first time Duffy and Jensen went to blows played in his mind, remembering the theif's neat trick to vanish into thin air only to reappear behind the immortal with knife ready. He recalled slamming the possessed Captain of the Ixian Knights through the crystal staircase, shattering it to thousands of pieces as the body impacted against the quartz. The blood shed was an insurmountable quantity, enough that Jensen had stained a white flower he kept upon himself at all times so red it looked like a deep passion rose.

And they hadn’t stopped there.

The immortal headed towards the door, reaching for his leather gloves feeling the material spike his skin as he slapped them against his open palm before stretching his fingers into the material, a soft groan escaping the aging material as he felt the cold steel studs over each of his knuckles. His jacket flapped from a breeze behind him, revealing his belt covered with two throwing daggers that jingled against his left thigh each time he took a step. He placed his right hand on his hip, patting his three throwing glaives lovingly like a master would pet their dog. Next to his glaives was his punch dagger, the handle calling him to grip it in the leathery embrace of his hands. Attached aloft to the back of his belt dangled a weapon that the immortal had not carried upon his person ever before, but for the battle at hand felt it only prudent to bring the very gift he gave to his comrade Adolph Gretzle, the Reclusiarch of the Ixian Knight’s Chaplains.

It was an enchanted maul, the length of his arm that was adorned with a Templar cross upon the crest. The material was of the finest quality, for it was a birthday present to the man, but the material was more so needed to create the magical prowess the weapon offered. Hits done by the maul amplified the users strength by nearly five times their normal capacity and when dealing with Duffy Bracken, a man who could call upon the powers of his friends, the immortal wasn’t sure he brought enough.

At last he was at the portal, looking upon it with barely contained control. The desire to go to battle was strong, but the reasons was what made this particular fight so enthralling and so titillating. Duffy was a brother to the immortal; one born from the blood they shed. Since the day they walked out from the Citadel the two have been fighting next to each other side by side throughout the many battles the Ixian Knights had as well as personal battles the warrior’s fought. This little duel was a bit more than just a sparring match to them. To go in with anything less than their all would be like spitting in the face of the opponent. While long ago that was type of person Jensen was, now was a different manner altogether.

With eager fingers gripping the handle he pushed the doors open, grin spreading ear to ear as he opened his arms to either side of him waltzing in like he owned the place. The choice of arena was fitting, for it was this very same structure of quartz that they made their bond. Jensen turned as he walked in, taking in everything around him as he felt the energy pulse around him. With a quick turn he looked at his comrade in arms, his friend, his brother and grinned like he was the devil himself.

Heart pounding in his ears, blood racing furiously, fingers stretching out to their limits against the gloved prison, the immortal looked to the thespian with anticipation.

[Duffy]

Duffy didn't take any delight in seeing Jensen enter the arena. Not because he despised his brother, though he certainly was jealous of certain faculties, but because he was armed. The enigmatic dancer had carried himself in their previous encounters on the merit of his erratic, close combat fighting style. The bard had picked up a thing or two about the man's ways and hoped to use them to his advantage in their encounter.

He stepped towards the edge of the large central platform, a hundred or so feet in diameter and looked down at the lightly lower opening. It was a maul of some description, or perhaps what larger men would call a simple, light to hand mace. It did not bring joy or appeasement to Duffy all the same.

"It seems it's been so long since we last met, brother, that we've not noticed the changes we've both been going through." He referred passively to his own resurrection on the cliff-tops of the Dresden Castle in the North. His hair was now black and his attire more befitting to a man of his age, but he doubted wherever Jensen would notice anything other cosmetic alteration. He lifted the Katarhna up to his shoulder and tapped the blunt edge against his bristling shoulder in time with the tapping of his right foot.

"I'm glad you came, all the same. I don't believe we 'ave to any introductions, so, as they say in the slums between whores and tankards - let's 'ave at it!" He beamed a smile from nowhere and brought his Akashiman steel up over his head and sheathed it. He would save that weapon for when the moment was right, for when Lysander was required, and took out Tooth and Nail with satisfying unleashing of shining metal into electric air. He didn't move from his vantage point, and waited for Jensen to ascend into yet another friendly brawl between family and friends.

[Enigmatic Immortal]

As Duffy finished the final words of his speech Jensen’s feet crunched the crystal as he charged up the hexagonal like staircase that spiraled all around the base quartz podium. Bubbling laughter escaped his lips in small fits of giggles as the immortal’s fingers danced upon his belt to one of his throwing knives, index finger looping upon the cool steel weapon’s ring. Twirling it to his chest and gripping the weapon tightly the immortal looked to see if Duffy was above him.

He knew to be wary of the thespian, for he had shown he could use the not just his own battle prowess, but the skills and abilities of the Tantalum troupe. Blank’s ability to teleport, Ruby’s singing, perhaps even Kazumi’s assassin skills would be brought to the fore and so the knight knew he had to be always aware of Duffy and his whereabouts.

When he was four crystal ‘steps’ away from the top of the large central dais the immortal lunged upwards gripping the edge with his free hand and hoisting himself up into a low roll. With acrobatic ease he came up to his feet, eyes looking all over for his foe and finding him a few paces from his standing point. A cry of laughter and anticipation echoed in the arena, the rock mineral absorbing and amplifying the mirth to course throughout the arena.

“Duffy!” Jensen cried out as the throwing knife was released from his eager fingertips, the whistling of the weapon piercing through the air with deadly accuracy wailing as a herald to the Captain.

[Duffy]

Duffy watched Jensen with a youthful and expectant smile as he spiralled around the central platform. He silently commended the wiry brawler on his swift approach. As quick as his own reflexes were however, he did not respond as he might to the flick of the man's wrist and the incoming projectile as he crested over the top step and made his move. The metal whirled through the air with all the grace, strength and accuracy of a fatal strike, and the bard's body tensed and recoiled out of its path.

It was a motion that was over in a second, but one that was too slow to outwit Jensen's superior aim. Duffy stood upright slowly, curving around to face his opponent once more, knees trembling, eyes strained with obvious pain. He brought his right arm up to his left shoulder and touched the cold hilt of the throwing knife with a trembling digit. No amount of readiness or reliance on the magical tenets of The Aria and the abilities he shared with his friends could have prepared him for such a crowd pleasing opening line.

"Well played," he curved his lips to smile but winced instead. Anatomy was not Duffy's strong point, but he had learnt in his short years that muscular limbs bled idly, even when left open. Hoping he still had strength left in him to take a toll on their even score, he took a grip of the knife's hilt and pulled.

Pain was something that was still foreign to Duffy. He had suffered mental trauma beyond repair, cracking, tormenting shadows in the mind, but nothing more than nicks and grazes and a broken bone in his more adventurous years. That was, until he had ventured into the Citadel. It shot down his arm and the back of spine, ducking under his collarbone and into his chest. He let the dagger fall to the floor with a chime, and levelled his gaze onto his brother. They had both come so far towards understanding the harsh realities of the 'real world'.

"Well played indeed..." he sounded understandably weak, but felt the allure of adrenaline pucker up to his wits and he stood upright under the duress of survival. He avoided making contact with the trickle of blood oozing down over the skin tight vest he had grown accustomed to wearing. Acceptance was acknowledgement, though he flexed his muscles in his shoulder and twanged at the stinging pain.

"I had hoped to spar, to play, and to jest in honour with ya for a while." He set the single edged blade straight on his shoulder again, and cocked his head with a hint of mischief. "But I am guessin' there ain't no 'ope for that!" He drew a deep breath of the tense air and pushed his right foot away from Jensen. His stance dropped into a slight crouch, and with the same motion he flattened the blade against the outside edge of his foot. It caught the reflection of light from the overhead false sun and for a moment, came to life.

"First blood to you, but I will die a thousand deaths before you beat me so easily!" He chuckled, swooned for a brief second of anticipation, and ran forwards with equal cat-like speed.

At the last moment of his run, he let Lysander Brandybuck emerge from the recesses of his mind. The Katarhna came up with such skill and speed Duffy watched from The Aria gob-smacked and tantalised. A slight twist turned the bladed edge turned upwards towards its intended victim and it cleaved a line of death through the darkened air of the crystal world.

[Enigmatic Immortal]

“Hmm, that usually never happens,” Jensen mused as he watched Duffy recoil from the knife throw. He had thrown his knives so many times, have practiced his aim for so many years that some came to him, preaching about how amazing he was with throwing things. It was as if he was some sort of legend of throwing arms, but the truth was really ugly. Until today nobody had really ever been hit by his knives, or the throw just had no lasting impact on the foe. So to see Duffy with a wound that actually impacted him, it was almost enough to cause Jensen to jump in joy and squeal like a kid who got their winter solstice wish.

Instead he decided to flip backwards to avoid the sword strike coming at him. He brought both hands upwards, his right thumb grabbing another throwing knife while his left clutched the punch dagger tightly. The sword came back for him in a diagonal slash, the form nearly perfect as Jensen watched his own reflection in the blackened blade, eyes wide with anticipation as the fear of death had left his body long ago. Jensen curved his body to the side to avoid a retaliation swing, ducking and curving again as he grinned darkly bringing his weapons up in an 'x' pattern to catch a violent overhead swing meant to cleave the immortal in twain. When the weapons caught they sparked, illuminating the crystal around them as Duffy put all his weight onto the edge of his blade.

Jensen felt his feet digging into the glass, his heel softly cracking the quartz like a new sheet of ice over a lake. His eyes narrowed for a moment on Duffy’s eyes, and slowly his chuckles returned as he thwarted the blow to the side. Both men pirouetted easily to face the other again as Jensen tossed his throwing knife up haphazardly, catching it deftly in a reverse grip and pointing to the Thespian.

“Lysander Bardy Fuck!” Jensen taunted, calling upon his pet name for Lysander Brandybuck. The ancient warrior, the hero of heroes, was said to inhabit the sword clutched in his hands, and Duffy could actually let the soul of the Scara Braen native infuse his body and take over. The first time Jensen fought with Lysander he nearly had his scalp clove straight off, a new fancy trophy for the Tantalum to put on the wall. However, even Lysander would have to remember the punishing ending Jensen served the champion.

It had taken the immortal forever to realize he was not engaging Duffy anymore, but the fluid sword like movements, the grim determination, and the style were all pointing towards Lysander. To confirm Jensen’s suspicions, the man merely smiled, before putting on a grim face of determination to begin another round of attacking.

This time Jensen had other plans, knowing who he fought and using it to his advantage as he did a few back flips to put distance between him and the swordsman. With a six pace gap between them Jensen slipped quickly into his favored Caeiporiea fighting style, unleashing the full extent of his agility as he danced forwards, bringing his body up in a forwards vault and bringing his foot down in a heavy axe kick.

“Show me how heroes fall, Lysander!”

[Duffy]

"He's not going to like that..." Duffy mumbled, biting his nails from his vantage point on the rickety old jetty that stood at the centre of the vast and infinite sea of mercury at the heart of The Aria.

It would appear, that though Jensen had grown exponentially in skill, speed, stamina and strength, one area that he had yet to develop was tact. In a conflict where wit and words were being brought to the fore, Duffy had hoped he would have learned precision and constraint, or had their enmity and love for one another gone beyond blood brothers into a pseudo-rivalry and eternal competition?

"Mind," he continued, though his words only rang in his ears as the other world around him stole his voice into the sound of harmony and silence. "Not much I can do about it now..." He continued to watch the visions of the battle, a small parasite clinging to the events of his own body and mind with eager woops and cheers as Lysander's heart continued to beat fast and strong.


---

"Speak ill of me like that," Lysander began, eyes set dead centre on Jensen's cheeky grin, "and I will oblige you!" He snapped his free hand to hilt of the Katarhna and brought it up in a defensive guard as the acrobat broke into a retreat, then made to break into an approach vector.

He's going for an aerial... Duffy's voice echoed in his ears, distracting the blade-singer with a puzzled look. When he realised that Jensen's approach was not as reckless as his supposed experience had assumed, he panicked. With a grunt, he rolled into a heavy fall using his left arm as a stabiliser, and as he rose from a second spiral, he heard the sound of a heavy foot cracking crystal.

He turned on a flimsy heel and levelled his blade at his opponent. A long period of dormancy had taken the glamour and ego from the blade-singer's mouth, leaving him rusty and without charisma. Duffy already realised his mistake, but let the inner child in him take its due and ultimately painful course.

"You wish for me to show you how a hero falls, yet you fall yourself without grace or respect." He licked his lips salaciously, and rested his left hand on his hip and kicked into a delicate dance step with his sword pointed loosely to the ground. It was a universally used duelling stance, a quick witted riposte of dehlar to add to his already sharp tongue. The Immortal stood quicker than his dagger had struck Duffy's shoulder, and no sooner than Lysander had replied, battle lines were being drawn once more.

With a stomp of his boot and a slap of his hand against his thigh, Lysander began to sing. His words were in high elven, a language which had not passed Duffy's lips or indeed anyone's in Corone for many a year. It's heightened pronunciation and underwhelming presence drew the air with the magical properties of Althanas and conjured from the lyrics of his passionate verse a powerful wave of energy.

The fake stars far above shone brighter in sympathy.

"Lo said the angel on distant shores, calling to the stars for graceful applause," the blade of his sword shuddered, and with a roil it burst into a violent cataclysmic scream. It continued to vibrate in time with Lysander's voice. "Fall down dreary said the gods to their son," he stepped forwards as Jensen's innate speed hit fever pitch. With a precise, determined and single handed swing he brought the Katarhna full-circle around his body. He slashed across air where the course of his momentum would take Jensen with the force of a gale, and the echo of a bright and vibrant chorus driving his hand.


---

"Show off..." Duffy raised an eyebrow and crossed his hands over his chest. He tapped the decking, and took a long breath of the strangely salty air that permeated through Tantalus's realm. "He never lets me use it like that!"

[Enigmatic Immortal]

The words Lysander was speaking may have well been a form of archaic magic, his voice bringing with him a symphony of wind that blared at the immortal with the force of a hundred trumpets. Shards of the crystal podium that had broken up joined the chorus adding to the chaos that swarmed around the knight. The crescendo of the wailing winds brought the Hero's words swirling around Jensen, and with a sudden updraft he felt his body lift upwards, feet tumbling over his head as he spun like a small rock in a tornado.*

Jensen had been suspended in the grip of a free fall before, and even with the gift of fearlessness his immortality granted him there was still the body's natural instinct to panic when faced with impending doom. Adrenaline boosted to his brain, his heart beating like the rat-at-tat-tat of a snare drum, blood flowing as it pounded behind his ears in a steady rhythm like tribal music. His eyes searched for anything, something to keep him in the fight, to keep him alive!*

The answer came in the form of a floating platform, the orange red quartz surface glowing faintly to Lysander's song. Remembering his training with his father, The Oracle of Wind, Jensen entered into an active meditative state. His lips began to murmur as he spoke in a low voice, his words lost to the gale billowing around him. He repeated the words over and over, never increasing his volume or his rate at which he spoke. The further he flew away from Lysander, the weaker the force launching him got, and when he was suspended over the abyss the winds died down enough for Jensen to regain control of his tumbling body. He willed his body to slowly fall to towered the crystal sanctuary, closing his eyes as he continued his mantra.*

In his mind he was on the top of the tallest tower of Ixian Castle, looking down upon the courtyard. The wind flourished all around him like a lover, teasing his skin and gently tugging at his clothing. It dared him to enter the winds embrace, to trust it fully without hesitation. Several times he had jumped, jumped and fallen to his death. Several times he returned, and several more he would jump. Jensen looked over the edge with a wide smile of complete content, whispering into the wind as he fell again.*

His eyes opened gently as he felt the familiar embrace of the whipping torrent, his lips still muttering the words as the quartz surface rapidly got larger and larger. Like a comet from the heavens Jensen descended, his jacket and weapons all rustling towered the sky like claws attempting to dig into something to stop his decent. When he was ten meters from the surface of the floating crystal he spun into a low roll, bringing both his hands up along with a gust of wind. The descent slowed him down enough that his key safely rolled on the crystal, cracking it like a sheet of glass as he came up letting the shards drop from his body like snow as he looked to where Lysander stood.*

"I am a leaf on the wind," Jensen whispered. "Watch how I soar." Lysander looked to Jensen, his eyes never faltering as the immortal flicked up one of his throwing glaives and began chuckling loudly over the chasm that separated the two warrior's.*

"Now look what you did, dumbass!" Jensen called out, cupping his mouth for dramatic effect. "You put us on two separate platforms. Now how do you suppose we fight?"*

While Jensen taunted Lysander he had missed that the crystal platform was still glowing, even after Lysander was done singing. Preparing to let out another brash round of insults, the immortal's tongue was stayed by a sudden jolt beneath his feet. His body momentarily lost control and the iron glaive fluttered out of his fingertips to the endless void below, cursing as he watched the podium shift slowly at a steady speed back towards the main platform.*

Regaining his bearings the immortal lifted up his last throwing knife, letting the steel drag against his glove as he aimed carefully. Lysander was always a riot to fight against, but he came to see Duffy, not the Scara Braen hero. When the floating platform was a long jump away Jensen let his adrenaline spike again as he sprinted off of one crystal surface to the next. He hit the quartz with a thud, his feet digging deep into the glass as it shifted beneath his boot and superficially cut at his legs. Jensen let the knife fly at Lysander, hitting a burst of speed as he followed the weapon's trajectory lifting up Crozius in his hands and preparing for the follow up.*

"Come on out and play, big brother!" Jensen hollered at Lysander.

[Duffy]

The trouble, Duffy mused, with trying to run away from the things you feared, was that they had the horrible tendency to chase you. No matter how hard he had tried throughout his life, daemons always crept through the cracks in the wall of a good head start to find him.

He watched Lysander's enigmatic display divide and conquer the two combatants, and equally, he observed Jensen's attempts to bring them back together again. As ever, he made short work of the distance, dancing like a fell gale across the expanse between platforms, weapons brandished readily, bravado worn like a shield over the heart.

Steadying the Katarhna, the Blade Singer watched his opponent's advance with keen interest, following every minute adjustment of the throwing knife as it rose, turned and sped once more towards him. Unlike Duffy, however, Lysander had spent a century perfecting his swordsmanship and his stance and parry riposte against opposing bladed weapons.

"I am no brother of yours, knave!" He roared back, slashing his weapon across the path of the projectile and knocking it with a satisfying chime out of his way. It span several times as it ascended, before falling with dead weight down into the abyss to join its brother glaive and the many other remnants of past conflicts that lingered unseen in the swirling purple and azure mists.

As the crozius rose up as a follow through to the knife toss, Duffy could do nothing but flinch. Lysander was far too over confident, his recanting orison too weak, his parrying stance far too focussed on speed to deflect the heavy handed challenge to the hero's authority. For a moment, the mercury sea of The Aria shined, a radiant echo as the heavy mace smashed into the Katarhna, smashed up through Lysander's feeble guard and straight into his chest.

Duffy felt sick, vomited, and then screamed silently from his own mind. Without warning, he rose upwards and great speed into the sky. He flashed for a moment, then felt himself being pulled back into his own head, back into existence.

When Lysander's body hit the ground at the edge of the platform with a heavy thud on the small of his back, it was Duffy that screamed in pain. The Katarhna clattered to one side, spinning on its hilt like a daring game of Russian roulette. As the bard writhed to straighten him out as quickly as he could muster, his chest crackled, his spine ached, and his shirt was now without most of its front.

"What in the blazes!" He proclaimed, sitting upright at last with inquisitive fingers examining his smoking clothing. "I expected ya to get stronger Jensen, but on your own merits...using trinkets and baubles ain't right, that's my skit!" He tried to smile as he stood up slowly, but on shaking ankles and wavering levels of concentration, it came across more like a strangled expression.

The crystal world fell momentarily silent, and in the gap between question and the inevitable quick witted reply from the dancing brawler, Duffy felt truly alive. He still had one card left in his hard to deal before his opponent, and he hoped it would be enough to bring him back from what appeared to be certain defeat. With a bloodied shoulder, a stinging head, a tight chest that made it hard to breathe and a hunch in his back, the bard tried to defend himself against whatever would come next.

"You wanted me to come out and play, so 'ere I am...let's play!"

[Enigmatic Immortal]

The way Duffy rolled reminded the knight of a toy ball, bounding up and down as Crozius hit him like a bat in a game of stick ball. Jensen was already chasing after him, deranged laughter echoing off the quartz platforms as they rolled around the main platform. The immortal was closing in on the thespian, already his eyes scanning for another way to take the maul and inflict more bodily harm.*

Yet as Duffy stood, unable to bring himself to his regal height, he spoke words to his brother, blood flecked lips spouting out to Jensen. The immortal held himself back, despite the protest in his blood. His heart still raced like a hummingbird but he could see the utter exhaustion in Duffy Bracken's eyes.*

"Ah come on!" Jensen teased, twirling the heavy war maul in his hands. "You done already? Well," Jensen rubbed the back of his head. "I suppose we could take a break," The knight muttered fanning himself off with one hand. He tapped one foot on the crystal surface, his eyes losing their edge as he relaxed.*The two stood in silence as the world around them slowly echoed with the sound of the glass being ground under Jensen's foot with the occasional sharp breath from Duffy.

"Hey! What's this garbage about not strengthening myself? Telling me off for using this war maul. I call bullshit!" Jensen laughed, though this time in a light hearted manner like he was speaking to someone across the barroom. "What the hell do you call Lysander Brandybuck? I call it cheating!" He lowered the maul to his side as he observed Duffy's movements, watching how his chest rose in sharp patterns, before he exhaled with the faintest of wheezes. The immortal supposed he could end the fight right now, but he slowly reached into his jacket and pulled out the flower necklace. just gazing upon it somehow calmed his nerves and quelled the inferno of his battle spirit to a low simmer.*

"Don't worry, Duffy," Jensen spoke softly to his brother. "I won't engage you until you are ready. I promised you I wouldn't lose control again, but let me ask you this," The knight gently put the necklace back into the inside pocket. He looked up to the thespian, a scrutinizing stare as he spoke in confusion.*

"I feel like only one of us came to fight, and the other came to get beaten like a red headed step child. What's the deal, bro? You realize we're in the citadel, right? The place where people, ya know..." Jensen shrugged. "Fight? Cause currently you seem to be avoiding confrontation and wanna talk about our feelings."

[Duffy]

Duffy sighed, and let the air dredge itself back into his burning lungs before he answered.

“I am Lysander. We are one and the same, he is a past life relived through my eyes and heart.” He expressed the complexity of his relationship with the blade singer of Corone in as simple terms as he could, fearing his words would bounce harmlessly from Jensen’s thick but kind hearted skull and be lost in the moment.

Feeling the soul and spirit slip from his fingertips, along with his stamina and drive, Duffy resigned himself to one last desperate act to retain his limited standing in their fight. Jensen, against all expectation, had not only grown in strength, but gone far beyond anything Duffy could ever hope to match.

“I think you’re right, though. I have spent so much of my life fighting alongside my friends, relying on their help and their strength, I have forgotten what it means to stand alone in times of trouble.” His troupe, his family, had always been there for him. He in turn had always been there for them, a union that transcended the very fabric of time, drawing them back together again no matter how divided they became.

He gritted his teeth as he forced himself to stand fully upright, and sheathed his weapons in the tuck of his belt. The strange and harmonious tinker of crystal platform crashing against crystal shard accompanied his confession and the rolling mists above and below their position sparkled with the purple dust of long crumbled plateaus.

“I did not mean to offend; you have gone far beyond strengthening yourself.” He reflected back to their first encounter in this very same arena, when he had pulled a blinking gambit and delivered a sharpened and precise point straight to Jensen’s shoulder blade. It was ironic, he guessed, that in the first few seconds of their reunion, the brawler had repaid the favour with equal speed, and trebled the poignancy of their history by catching the bard so immensely off guard.

He dabbed a fingertip into the wound on his shoulder and flinched. Electrifying pain ran down his arm, and his fingers splayed and tensed to fight it. Staring at the blood, Duffy suddenly remembered something most peculiar.

“Your strength lies not in your skill, doubtless, your iron fist, quicksilver reflexes and that strange art you pass for style are all powerful allies to fight alongside,” he glared at the lightning maul with contempt, but declined to comment further on its use, “but I think you’ve strength in you that you have not yet recognised.” The bard waited for a few seconds, hoping for a sign of recognition on his blood brother’s face. When none came, he slouched again and gave in to the need to vomit.

He had gone beyond caring about what Jensen thought of him, and gone beyond caring about keeping up appearances. The bile ran down his chin and splashes against the polished crystal, the forward lurch giving life to the pain in his chest and shoulder and doubling the pain to beyond his threshold. “I-” he spat the last dregs from his mouth, and wiped the corners with his sleeve, “do not want to talk anymore.”

What was the use? He had entered the arena with every intention of defeating Jensen and levelling the score once and for all, but he had no hope now. Though he had proclaimed he would die a thousand painful deaths before Jensen truly defeated him, truth be told, he had been victorious the second the great iron doors had swung open, and his charisma had rolled into the crystal world like a tsunami.

“Lysander and I, we will give you your glory,” he winked, then stood fast and upright and grimaced. His breath weak, his eyes stinging, his heart heavy, he drew on The Aria and readied his final card to deal to the table.

He did not reach out through time for Arden Janelle, as he had done in their previous encounter to flitter through the air like a vanishing sprite. He reached out for someone he cared for much more, and almost immediately his emotion, pain and anguish flew out of his lips in the form of an incantation and rhythmic verse that almost passed for song through his Scara Brae twang.

Through the Union of Ages he shared with the Tantalum Troupe and the Thayne Tantalus himself, Duffy tapped into the talents of Ruby Winchester, the spell singer of fable and myth and sang of a true hero with the last of his breath and the remaining fire in his heart. He sang plainly at first, to give momentum to the vocals, before adding the crenulations and flourishes to the end of the verses where and when it was appropriate, and whenever the emotion swelling in his chest cavity felt like being daring.

“Blood brothers long ago they fought, tainted by division, but in the end they became friends, and spoke with great elision,” he smiled as the air around his fingertips began to feel warm and fuzzy, like a hot summer afternoon. As he reached the start of the second chorus, he rose onto his tippy toes and found his arms being pulled upwards and outwards, as if they had decided to become wings instead.

“They spoke and sang of victories, together till the end, the bard with inner Brandybuck, the brawler without end,” his neck snapped back and two spirals of flame burst upwards from the crystal to engulf the bard.

With searing, magical heat, they scoured every inch of cloth from his body as the notes formed flame and flame forged an inferno. He began to spin as he sang another verse, and the spirals turned into a vortex of red, gold and yellow lights that threatened to spread out and engulf the entire platform.

“They fought and lead their friends to war, and cast aside their woes, they started out as enemies, but ended up as bros,” the little quip and loss of serious form brought a smile to his face as the heat threw fragments of burning cloth and leather upwards into the crystal filled sky. In short order, he was virtually naked, except for his three magical daggers and the Katarhna, which encircled his body in a whirl of blades.

The words were willing him to live, he was singing to survive.

“They spoke and sang of victories, together till the end, the bard with inner Brandybuck, the brawler without end,” two little phoenix burst into existence as the spiral branches crossed, and they darted into his body in unison as the song reached its climax like a cheap Radasanth whore.

The first struck the wound on his shoulder, blanching it shut and burning the blood on his body till it was congealed, black and fetid. It formed a scab and instantly Duffy felt relief from the warmth of Ruby’s own soul pouring over his flesh. The second hovered in front of his floating body for a moment, before letting out a piercing cry that told of a thousand years of sorrow. It struck his chest with the force of a hurricane, and he fell to the ground in a slump.

“I will give you the fight you came for, Jensen, without a doubt, I will fight with every last inch of strength in my body.” Duffy stood upright, invigorated and still somehow alive, despite the decisive blows his brother had dealt to him in the opening seconds of their engagement.

As the last flickers of the flame column died, the Katarhna fell before the bard and stuck into the crystal with a satisfying crack. Wainwright’s Riposte fell beside it with a clatter, skidding several feet away as if it had been cast aside like an unwanted trinket of a bygone age. Tooth and Nail however Duffy caught with outward snaps of his wrists, embracing the daggers that had been with him since he was a boy with all the love the child he still was could muster over toys.

“You wanted me, so here I am. I will fight with everything I am, my daggers,” he gave them a twirl, his muscular, if a little scrawny arms flexing their dexterity as he did so, “and most importantly, me.” His second pledge was literal, as the flame of the Phoenix Fire had left him utterly naked.

He leapt forwards over the hilt of his sword, and pattered forwards with a burst of speed born of determination and the sudden breaking of containment. Long ago, they had shared blood, and the rivalry had given birth to a literal sharing of strength, speed and stamina. Drawing on that last encounter, Duffy ran forwards, his once black hair shining with red and gold hue as Ruby’s did in the brightest of sunsets, and with a rolling, genital flapping tumbling somersault, he launched into his signature flurry, the Whirling Dervish.

Four inaccurate but rapid strikes lashed out as he advanced, until his feet came firmly onto the crystal platform and smashed a hairline fracture into the surface. With a dual upward strike, he pushed Nail into Jensen’s most prized possession with the blunt but poignant deliverance of a fifth strike. He cackled as he rolled, still feeling the twinges of pain that the song had stitched away at the back of his mind but too tired to express it anymore.

It was Duffy, or Jensen, so he aimed for the one thing Jensen couldn’t live without before the inevitable crack and broken spine and ego the brawler would no doubt deliver to his tired, worn and unprotected body.

The testicles.


Duffy has used The Union of Ages to wield Ruby's Paean Of Phoenix Fire, and has drawn on the boost he and Jensen have when encountering one another to put extra weight behind his Whirling Dervish attack.

Please also note Nail is enchanted with extra piercing strength.

[Enigmatic Immortal]

When Duffy began to sing again Jensen cursed loudly, trying to drown out the man’s words in fear another windy breeze would blow him over the edge again. Instead of wind, he felt an element of nature he had felt numerous times before with bouts against William Arcus, the Revenant; Fire. Duffy Bracken had started a pyro show that would make even the Fallien nomads jealous as it swirled through his exhausted limbs. The impact of what he was seeing paused the immortal in silent awe, his mouth gaping just wide enough to pass for looking like an imbecile.

When Duffy was done singing he was surging forwards with renewed vigor, and the fact that his brother was actually fighting him caught Jensen off guard. The knight had little time to consider what to do, but his eyes then rationalized a trivial piece of information that he really had no need to dwell on. Jensen would later in his life reflect back to this moment, a bit of a grin on his face that only he would understand, and agree it was probably the part of the story where things went downhill.

Instead of preparing for Duffy’s attack he was busy trying to come up with something witty about the man being stark naked.

Still, true to his charm Jensen continued to laugh, a willful shriek of the possessed as the formalities were gone. Duffy was on him in a moment, and the four strikes of his weapon were barely contained only to his split second reflexes. Yet he did not block the blows with grace, more in panic and thus they still caused significant damage as one pierced his shoulder, another his arm, and a third one his cheek. The fourth shot Jensen had grabbed the man’s fist and thought himself triumphant.

He was sorely wrong.

The fifth strike had struck a chord that turned his malign giggling into painful agony. Jensen let bile lift up into his throat and wash down over his dribbling cheek before blood cascaded from his lower regions like a torrential water fall. He managed to weakly push Duffy away, the man’s weapon leaving his groin with a tearing that made the immortal scream in pain. The crystal surface continued to stain red as Jensen took a few steps backwards, realizing the extent of his wounds went past simple brotherhood code. Duffy had really dug it in there and when he pulled out he pulled something important with him and the blood did not stop flowing.

“Fuck, shit, ass, bitch!” Jensen became a whirling dervish of swear words as he landed onto his butt, Crozius dropping to the ground with a clatter as the immortal began to pound the quartz surface in pain. “Duffy you fucking bastard!” Jensen hollered as his pain increased again, blood caking his mouth as if he just enjoyed a particularly rare meal with his own canines.

Jensen curled into a ball to alleviate the pain, but whatever the hell ruptured within his body let out a spasm and Jensen began to bounce as he exploded, eyes filled with tears as he angrily gripped at the quartz, digging his fingers into the surface and breaking off chunks of the crystal, blooding his hands as he tore into his gloves. His world was slowly losing vision and the immortal had realized that at this rate, Duffy Bracken would finish him off in seconds.

Angrily Jensen grabbed for his throwing glaive, lifting it up and with a roar of defiance he took the tip and ran it jaggedly across his throat. Now his black shirt was staining red as it clung to him, the pool of blood growing into a tiny lake size as Jensen thrashed about. His painful wails became wet gurgles as his eyes cast to Duffy with disdain, a look of betrayal on his features before he fell to his back and slowly bled, his body getting steadily calmer and calmer before at long last the immortal Jensen Ambrose lay at rest, his chest no longer heaving in painful exertion.

[Duffy]

There was a future for everyone in the Citadel.

That was the only truth that kept Duffy sane as he watched Jensen Ambrose die, again.

The pain and the anguish and the semi-satisfactory smile he tried to suppress confused the bard. He felt uncomfortable, horrified almost, but dumbfounded. His brother far exceeded him in every way when it came to an outright fight, by all accounts, Duffy should be dead, and Jensen should be standing gloating and puckering his lips to the adoring fans in his place.

Something didn’t feel right.

The blade drew across the brawler’s throat and shattered any doubt that he might have been wrong. Duffy couldn't be sure if the sound of cracking glass was the platform, or his heart breaking in sorrow.

“Je-” he reached out an urgent hand, but reacted too slowly to have any says in the matter.

Duffy was alone, and the silence on the crystal platform, now smeared in warm blood and echoes of distant melodies floated out eerily through the dark abyss. The magic of Ruby’s song faded, and the red in his hair along with it. The warmth went last of all, seeping out through his aching limbs as the cold of the arena fought his body and won with little resistance. He soon found himself shivering, lip quivering in a vibrato accompanist, heart pounding with bass line synchronicity.

A single tear rolled down the bard’s cheek, its sorrow and meaning tempered somewhat by his nude form.

“I guess I have learnt to fight on my own terms, after all,” which had implications of its own that would take Duffy many a long night, and many a bottle to iron out smooth and accept.

He pondered Jensen’s actions for several minutes, until the silence began to spook him and he nodded thanks to his brother. With a longing look in his eyes, he turned his back to the corpse and walked towards the non-existent exist, which would materialise as if pre-ordained or sent by the Thayne as soon as he neared the platform’s edge.

The trouble with immortality, however, was that it never knew when to give in…

[Enigmatic Immortal]

There was naught but emptiness within the crystal realm. There was no songs, no winds, no fires, and no laughing. Duffy’s feet soundlessly walked upon the shattered top of the quartz podium, a look of a warrior who had won a victory, but not the one he wanted. Even in death, Jensen had denied the thespian his victory. Duffy Bracken knew Jensen was immortal, and knew he was perfectly capable of taking his own life. There were stories of the many deaths of the warrior, their passing spoken within the halls of Ixian Castle and even some on the streets of Radansath. Duffy knew Jensen would rise again, and so with head held low he had begun his slow march to the portal that would end this madness.

Yet Duffy had never known Jensen learned a new trick.

Green energy in the form of a mist slowly began to hover over the dead man’s body. It traveled along each fatal wound and flew inwards, slowly fixing up the wound along his pelvic area as the flesh knitted itself together. The long gash upon his throat also closed as the mist veiled the wound, slowly passing over showing that the wound had never existed. The energy met within the center of his body, hovering over his heart like tiny storm clouds. When the last of the green eldritch energy reached the central focal point it sparked and shunted forwards into Jensen’s heart, before running ribbons of lightening like energy over his body.

Blood started to run within his fingers and toes, his mouth slightly gaping as his lungs slowly inflated softly but shortly. His heart beat like a hammer in the forge, each thunderous boom pulsing more and more of the eldritch energy over his body. At last he opened his eyes as his back arched, fresh air being shoved into his lungs as he took an agonizing breath, the last bits of energy sparking off onto the crystal platform where they danced along the surface like shadowy demons.

Jensen Ambrose had risen again.

Bloody body, aching bones, and a burning at the lower regions were all indications that he was indeed alive again. To feel pain was to feel life itself, and he relished as his lips parted into a sick grin, slowly standing as Duffy had yet to see his body rise. He felt sharp pains when he tried to walk, and rationalized that his Breath of the Undying merely closed the wounds that would cause him death, but did not repair them fully. His erstwhile brother’s attack still would hold him back, but he had an idea now as he watched him.

His eyes focused upon Duffy, the immortal recalling the times when the thespian had called upon the powers of his friends to aid him. It was how Duffy had won many battles, using Ruby’s singing, and Blank’s teleporting. He could call upon them because to Duffy those people were closer than friends. They were his family as much as he was Jensen’s brother. No blood between them, but no way to deny the ancestral bond. Jensen felt his lungs relax as he pondered upon this, and he decided he had but one chance to truly show his ‘big’ brother that Jensen had grown just as much as he.

“There is no way, you can force my body down,” Jensen sang, his voice low and solemn. Duffy paused in his tracks as he turned, slowly, eyes widening to see the immortal standing tall. The bloodied fingers of the immortal reached down and grabbed Crozius from the floor, gripping it as he continued to sing.

“Not a prayer to keep me underground. There is no way, you can force my body down,” Jensen sang the song in such a reserved voice, like he was singing a funeral march for a departed friend. He willed his song to reach the other realm, the Aria as Duffy explained it, to take his words and carry them and grant him the trick he needed to pull off the win.

“I’ve seen nightmares, visions that haunt me, I buried three of my friends, and they still wait for me. There is no way, you can force my body down, not a prayer, to keep me underground.” The crystal within the area slowly resonated with his song, the glow illuminating the floating platforms as ominous storm grey clouds began to swirl around Jensen’s feet like morning fog. Jensen pushed himself to walk forwards towards his brother, each step slow and purposeful like he was in a chain gang. Each step made the lights he was creating shimmer brightly, then fade abruptly.

“Brother’s who are born in blood, are brothers in arms, and when a brother sheds the other’s, I’ll still not be done. There is no way, you can force my body down. Not a prayer to keep me underground.” Jensen continued to feel the emotions stir within him, letting the emotions of the music he sang take him as he closed his eyes. The swirling fog began to cloak him, casting a shadowy grim spectre of death itself.

“So come and meet, my family, see me at your grave, you’ll have died a thousand deaths, while I draw eternal breath. There is no way, you can force my body down. There is no way, to keep me underground.” Jensen felt himself slowly slip, his spirit wavering as the Aria called to him. The power was surreal as it flowed within him, the crystals letting out an eerie wind that howled at Duffy’s exposed flesh. Jensen felt the grip of the realm that the Tantalum embraced, and like his brother he too took hold of their power and brought it to himself. One trick, one last desperate gamble, was about to be played out.

Jensen’s body disappeared quickly, and within the same moment reappeared as the fog dissipated, reforming behind Duffy as Jensen’s body came flying out, the maul held over head in a blow meant to end his brother’s life.

((Jensen is utilizing the ability granted [by Duffy] to all the Ixian Knights in the judgment What’s in a Name (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?21294-What-s-in-a-Name&p=177687&viewfull=1#post177687) to allow him to do the following: Once a battle, when fighting with a member of the Tanatlum, you may use one of their abilities in the manner they do. I choose to use Duffy’s Union of the Ages ability to borrow another Tantalum troop member’s ability. The ability I chose was Blank’s teleport!))

[Duffy]

Duffy remained so gobsmacked after turning around that he could barely contain the look of confusion on his face. He had resigned himself, perhaps foolishly, to a triumphant exit from the arena. Time however had other idea, and Jensen Ambrose did not listen to time.

What made the ordeal all the more horrifying was that Jensen Ambrose, the Enigmatic Immortal, the cocksure brawler, the face-pommeling blood brother to the Avatar of the Thayne Tantalus, was singing. The bard cast his mind momentarily back to one of their previous spars, and realised that his generosity and love of his new found family then had signed, sealed and delivered his own death warrant now.

“The Aria,” he muttered, hair flapping and genitals sagging as he slumped, defeated and resigned to whatever fiery convocation the words were going to assault him with. He was the avatar of a god, which gave him the right to gift his power to others. Since he drew on the strength of his friends, this meant Jensen now had access to the souls, minds and memories of Lillith Kazumi, Ruby Winchester, Arden Janelle and Duffy Brandybuck Bracken.

He shook his head, and watched the man advance with shimmering steps of concerto melody, melodramatic lyrics arranged in neat, well-wrought verses and bellowing ripples of potential trailing after his bloodied and contorted body.

“I commend you, brother,” were his last words before Jensen disappeared.

Arden Janelle’s Null-Void Dichotomy…Duffy thought, knowing the sight of the blue ribbons and the flourish of Salvar throat-singing all too well. Any second now, his brother would re-appear, likely behind his back, and he would feel the full force of his mistake.

“Wait…” he said, noticing that the cracks in the crystal were no longer cracks. They were splitting: the deep echo of shattering crystalline filaments filled the air and pierced the echoes of Jensen’s lullaby. Oh he won’t like this…he though with a wry curl to his lips.

Blue ribbons rolled past Duffy’s elbows and coiled up around his legs, and he looked down, exposing his spine, neck and skull to whatever was going to satisfy an end to their engagement, and smiled. He lifted his right foot and stomped.

At the precise moment his heel struck the largest of the cracks, the crozius, bound in static and falling like a comet to the mitre of kings connected with the top of his head and two things perfectly formed by the power of magic shattered.

“Ugh,” fell from the bard’s lips unceremoniously.

The heavy mace imploded his skull, driving the fragments of bone so deep into his brain that any hope of speaking or loving or caring would have been denied to him if such wounds had been inflicted elsewhere. Blood spattered upwards, and ran down the trail in his neck either side of his bent and compacted spine. Little streaks of lightning bounced through his hair and into his eyes, convulsing and jolting every muscle in his body.

The crystal platform broke almost instantly in two, the crack through the centre widening by an inch under the duress of Duffy’s light knock and the surge of energy that had run down his thighs, tightened his calf and juddered into his foot at the moment they connected. Though the jagged edges of the crystal lacerated his skin, the gush of blood and twang of pain that was felt for only a millisecond before Duffy’s eyes paled and he passed into the afterlife.

He fell unceremoniously forwards, the thud of the impact of skin against cold crystal echoed out across the roiling mists of the crystal realm. The deep echo of the platform breaking bounced through the cosmos with a ricochet, and widened the crack further still. As it broke apart, the stress spread cracks outwards like the erratic hands of a grand and ironic clock.

Duffy’s head was cocked to the left, his neck broken from the impact and his tongue hanging loosely from his frothing mouth. A pool of blood would have formed, but it fell in torrents over the edge and into the infinite abyss below like crimson rain. A second passed, then another, and then the crack widened with one last unceremonious rumble, and Duffy fell like a rag doll into the crevice. He clipped the inwards spine of a fracture, which ripped into his side and crushed his ribs, and tossed him into an erratic, many limbed and appendage rotation as he continued to fall into the unknown, far out of Jensen’s sight, far out of reach.

His blood and his soul rained down after him.

The platform fell apart, and revealed the greatest irony of all.

Jensen Ambrose was immortal, just as Duffy was.

But he sure couldn’t fly!

[Enigmatic Immortal]

Jensen Ambrose watched with a sick, grotesque satisfaction the death of his brother. He repeated over and over in his head that this was the Citadel and Duffy would be back up in no time drinking ale with the immortal and talking about the dirty whores they sleapt with at Ashley’s tavern. Still, part of him cringed to watch Crozius nearly implode the thespian’s body and he felt for the guy. In his many lives he had been crushed by a giant desert scorpion before. The same principles would apply, he figured. Smashed spine, and a brain full of bones.

Yet when he watched Duffy fall his eyes narrowed in confusion. Something was amiss, and it took the Immortal a full second to realize Duffy never stopped falling to the crystal floor. So enraptured with howling winds of the Aria and the victory at hand he completely ignored the tell tale signs that the quartz was about to be sundered. His feet touched the surface of the platform before shifting inwards as the distinct sound of glass breaking in a large chunk echoed throughout the world. The podium broke inwards, the edges lifting up as the middle slid into a drain like vortex of dust, glittering shards, and blood.

Jensen’s lips parted, about ready to scream, before he looked to Duffy’s corpse and shrugged, closing his eyes. His mouth curled into a vile, leering demonic grin as his stomach began to swirl, and before long Jensen let out a mighty roar of laughter that echoed through the eternal drop.

After all, somebody had to get in Duffy’s last laugh.

~*~*~

Jensen’s world slowly came back into focus as he eyed the white linens of the medical ward. He at first thought he was within Lady Aislinn Orlouge’s medical ward, but quickly shoved the idea aside. He recognized the stitching well enough from his many stays inside the Citadel’s medical room, and he looked to his right to find Duffy sleeping peacefully, and marks of their brotherly spat gone.

He turned to look to his right, but his world quickly went black as something slammed into his face. It was heavy and stank of sweat of and a few weeks of neglectful washing, and Jensen’s fingers lifted to feel the heavy leather fabric. It was his fighting coat.

He removed the clothing article and looked to see three woman of different shapes and sizes glaring to him. Well, one was, the other seemed to be hiding a smirk and the third simply smiled. Stephanie Ordara, Jensen’s fiancé, Ruby La Roux, and his sweet little angel Azza were all at his bed side.

“Well look who decided to wake themselves up,” Stephanie said darkly. “Only been three days without calling anyone. I thought you regenerated in no time,” Stephanie sassed. “Wait, let me guess, you somehow find a way to kill yourself with spectacular fashion, body mangled beyond all recognition!”

“Steph!” Jensen whined. “It’s not like I tell these idiot monks to heal me! When they start doing their thing my immortality goes all wonky!” Jensen looked to Azza and quickly smiled, opening his arms for a hug. “Hey kiddo!”

“I know all that!” Stephanie shouted interrupting Azza, who looked to her mother with a pout before sheepishly waving her fingers to her father. Jensen mirrored her motions as Steaphnie continued on. “But I also know that if the enemy doesn’t overkill you, you don’t die for any lengths of time! Why the hell do you need to put yourself in arenas where you get horribly dismembered and killed?”

“Do not put all the blame on him,” Ruby spoke up quickly placing her hands on her hip as she softly sauntered towards Duffy’s bed. “This bum of a man knows that Jensen craves the carnage, and probably had a hand in this little death pit.” Her fingers turned into a soft clenched fist where she began to wrap on Duffy’s head like he were a door.

“Oh yes, I am only too sure of that,” Stephanie said dryly nodding to the point. “But this imbecile won’t be happy until he dies a thousand times.”

“And Duffy won’t stop until he’s died the same number to defeat Jensen,” Ruby replied just as dryly. “Boys will be boys.” She sighed whim fully as she turned her attentions to Duffy.

“Do not grow up like that, sweetie,” Stephanie said to Azza, who had only recently begun her path to being a warrior. Azza nodded to her mother as at last Stephanie let Jensen hug his little girl. The immortal moved his feet to kick over the bed when he felt a sudden tear within his nether regions, bending over as he tenderly touched his privates.

“Ahhh, shit that stings,” Jensen muttered as he turned his head half heartedly towards Duffy. “Hey, bro! You don’t hit another guy in the balls, you asshole!” Jensen flipped his brother the bird as he looked back to his soon to be wife and daughter, slowly getting up. “When you’re free from the cage, hit me up, and we’ll get a beer! I owe you one, and Blank too if you can manage to get that creepy bastard to join us for once. ‘Til then, later Duff man.” Jensen waved to his family member as he gave him a wry grin, a slight chuckle escaping his lips.

Azza let herself be a crutch for her father as Jensen weakly lifted his lips to Stephanie’s and kissed her, passionately and whispered he was sorry for keeping her in the dark for so long. She kissed his nose and nodded, smiling as her blue eyes sparked to his, the fact that he was safe and in her arms more than enough for her.

“When we get home, you need to clean up the foyer. Zerith had to do it the last few nights because you were off being dead,” Stephanie mumbled as her fingers gripped with his, creating a complicated knot.

“I’ll do it later,” Jensen said passively. “How’s training going kiddo?” As was usual, before Azza could even so much as chirp Stephanie cut her off.

“Very well, now stop avoiding your duties.”

“Make me,” Jensen said in a taunting manner. Stephanie smiled, before her free hand gripped a knife and she rammed the hilt into his body. Where it landed will be a mystery, but let’s just say Duffy Bracken would have most definitely approved.


((Well Duffy, we once again ran around the mull berry bush. It’s a nail biter, but I think you may have me! Enjoy the post and I look forward to the next battle we have!))

[MetalDrago]

Sorry for the long wait on this Judgment. I hope thismakes up for it. Duffy Bracken will be in blue and Enigmatic Immortal in red.

Story (7/8):
Both: This story was intriguing from the outset, and the tension and relative ease with which you both went from point to point in the story was really good. I honestly didn’t know who was going to come out on top in this, and it pretty much kept me on the edge of my seat the entire time. Honestly, this was really good.

Duffy: As a small side note when Duffy was “watching” thebattle between Lysander and Jensen in the Aria, it lacked a real sense ofdanger or tension for him, like “Oh shit, Lysander’s going to get me fucking killed!” as an example. Other than that, you and EI were about on the samelevel, but it will cost you a point.

EI: Only advice I can give you is to keep refining your technique. There were very few errors I found with this particular area.

Continuity (8/8):
Both: You both established a back story that these two had fought before, andwhile I was unaware that there was a tie at all between these two characters,you really made me want to go back and find where the two of them had fought before. Overall, you referenced locations you’d been to in the past, brought up the connections to various past locations in a manner that didn’t feel after the fact. Overall, you both did an immensely good job in setting this up so that the reader wouldn’t feel lost even if they hadn’t read previous threads,and you both make it feel as though the characters are very much a part of Althanas. Only advice I can offer to both of you is to keep it up.

Setting (6/6):
Duffy: You pretty much kept the surroundings in your thoughts through the entire thread. I have very little to complain about here except for the small fact that I think that you didn’t use it enough. It was an interesting idea, having fragile battlefield where two titans would duke it out while the world around them literally fell apart. Aside from that, you did really well.

EI: Pretty much the same complaint, though your use of the reflection on the blade in one of your posts was intriguing, I didn’t see much else beyond that which really wowed me in what amounted to a crystal cave above a bottomless pit. Overall, good, but nothing really standout.

Creativity (8/8):
Duffy: As usual, you show a very creative streak in making things happen. As far as any general complaints, I don’t really have any. The way in which you basically forced the battle to end in a draw was pure genius, and while not implausible, unexpected.

EI: You did very well here as well. You forced Jensen torely on new ways in order to fight both Duffy and Lysander, and used things that Jensen had never done before, but knew he was capable of doing. It did notshatter my suspension of disbelief, and therefore merits an equally high score.

Character (7/7):
Both: While I’ve seen both characters before, I got a good glimpse into the minds of both, which let me really see what was going on. I would reward this with another pair of 8’s, but alas, the one nitpick I have for both of you in this particular instance is that I didn’t really see too much of a show of how they’d changed from their previous selves. Still, a good show nonetheless.

Interaction (9/9):
Both: Nearly... flawless. The way these two interacted with each other over the course of the thread was so believable, so enjoyable, that I found myself truly believing that these two were not only rivals, butlong standing friends and brothers-in-arms. A stellar performance, really.

Strategy (8/7):
Duffy: Your use of the crystalline world was impressive, even if you didn’t describe it much. This relates to how the world slowly began to crumble down to the last move where you cracked the center Dias in order to force what amounted to a draw.

EI: You did nearly as well, using Blank’s powers by drawing on the gift Duffy had given you, in addition to bringing out a strength enhancing weapon and other odds and ends throughout the thread, but there was just something that wasn’t there for me that would merit a higher score.

Mechanics (7/7):
Both: A few mistakes, but nothing major. For Duffy, there was only one glaring one. Using “span” in place of the proper word, “spun.”

Clarity (7/7):
Both: Overall, I didn’t have a problem reading the thread and understanding what was going on, so bravo to you both.

Wildcard (7/7):
Both: As you can probably tell, I’m having a very hard time pulling the two of you apart in terms of score. You both are just so similarly skilled, albeit in differing ways, that it’s hard for there to be areal break away score. As a reader, not just as a Judge, I loved every second of this thread. It was that good. I didn’t want to put it down, and especially when the battle really got rolling, I wanted nothing more than to keep reading. So... for both of you dear, dear friends of mine, please keep doing what you’re doing so I can keep reading more of your work.

Final Score: 74/74

Duffy Bracken receives 2700 EXP and 180 GP
Enigmatic Immortal receives 2700 EXP and 180 GP

[Atzar]

EXP/GP added!