Elthas Belthasar ~V~ Jean Lafitte (Grandjester/Closed)

[Elthas_Belthasar]

Elthas was a professional.

Such a line of work required a certain amount of dedication and finesse. Elthas was a Bounty Hunter, training for that line of work required constant visits to The Citadel. It was there that Elthas could hone his skill and refine the knowledge of his ability. As a proud member of his people, Elthas still clung to some of the beliefs that was instilled in him from his early youth. Though an exile now, Elthas never regretted the decisions he had made to save that old man which lead him to joining The Syndicate in the first place. Elthas had changed his physical appearance from the time before The Syndicate to more closely resemble the changes he had gone through. Now, he was bald having removed all of his hair which his people held in esteem. He had a short, well-trimmed beard these days. It was a square goatee, the sides of his face were clean shaven.

Elthas constantly wore black now. It was the standard attire for Syndicate agents. When off duty, he wore civilian attire and these were black as well. Currently, he was training for future Syndicate operations, and that meant he wore civilian attire. His suit was black in colour, and he wore a trenchcoat over it. His blazer was finely embroidered, and he wore a particularly baggy set of slacks. Elthas was a finely dressed man, his top hat was tilted slightly at an angle. He walked with a scepter-cane. It was just a useless keepsakes that many noble folk kept with them. Elthas had acquired some status with The Syndicate as an Agent, but he still had much more to gain.

There was protocol. A set of chain and command that was always in play. On his person, he carried the signet ring of The Syndicate which he wore at all times. His fancy black boots were impeccably polished. His trenchcoat was open, and flowed like a cloak in the breeze. He had entered The Citadel with the purpose of training. He was an active, mobile person. He currently found himself stationed in one of many Citadel chambers. It was Chamber Number Thirty-Four. It was a particularly plain public service chamber, but it could be reconfigured by The Monks to any illusion world that was created for the training session of the day. Already, Elthas had set the chamber to an environment suitable for training.

It was a deeper section of Ruild, that is, Concordia Forest. One his people called Druellen-Athkor. Vaguely, it meant "place of darkness" in the tongue of his people. The Ruildians did not hold an outpost in that area of Ruild and thus, it was a wild land. The trees were gnarled and twisted by a corrupting darkness, the ground itself was spoiled. The entire area had a rotten scent about it. Elthas found himself venturing to that part of Ruild oft, where he sought to train and calm his mind of his troubles. Currently, he was speaking to a manifestation. A spirit of The Antifirmanent, the creature was an Elemental. It could manifest in front of people it found worthy, and commune directly to them. Elthas was conversing with the creature about the current state of Ruild. Which had become corrupt and saturated with evil resonance.

"Do you see what has become of this place now? This place, a Blight, did not exist once. However, it is a left over scar of The Demon War." The Elemental said.

"That old?" Elthas said, tapping his chin. "I imagine that three thousand years is still a long time for this place to be here. What has the analysis data I procured for you shown so far?" Elthas asked.

"You've completed your job well, Elf." The Elemental said. "However, I will need more time to study the samples you have acquired for me. That is a task for another day." The Elemental was capable of communing directly to Elthas using The Citadel as a central point of conjuration. "I have some suspicions I wish to share with you though." The Elemental said, and placed an object upon the ground. It began to glow. When it opened up, it showed an image of something, an image of a person that looked very far away. "This entity, is trapped somewhere within this section of Ruild. When you have the time, I would ask you to free this entity of it's prison."

"How would I go about doing that?" Elthas asked.

Enter Here^

[Grandjester]

Having gotten into little trouble during his initial foray into the outside world, Jean was bored. He thrived off action and surprises, but nothing interesting had happened throughout his aimless wandering, but that would soon change. Fighting was something he had delved in while living in his homeland, though it had always been one sided to his benefit. Now, at the Citadel, he'd find not only a fight, but the first potential threat to his safety he had ever encountered. He had never been able to get clearance into the Yorfallian underworld, and he didn't have the manpower available to overthrow the government to get past such inconveniences, so he was left with murder after murder. All his targets were weak businessmen or petty criminals who wouldn't know the meaning of strength if Jean hadn't finished them off with his own. Mind you, reader, that Jean however was not the type to believe that strength had value or true meaning, he had merely been denied decent opponents to play the fighting game with.

Yes, it would all change today.

He still had to deal with the strange reactions people had to his appearance, but he hardly minded, in fact he enjoyed it somewhat. Never before had he met such people that would be so shocked and overloaded with emotion merely by looking at another person. I mean, it seemed that the reason for such repulsion towards him was because his kind had never been seen before, though that hardly made sense to him. Jean had never seen their kind before, and he remained polite and intruiged in learning more about them, though he excused their behaviour regardless and passed it up to being the fault of conflicting social values. He did note to himself that the monks he talked to in order to get into the fighting arena did not display such a response like others he had met. He assumed they were simply being professional. It was almost like he was home again, not something he cared about, positively or otherwise. They recommended taking a lightsource with him into the arena, for it was apparently very dark. He followed the advice by taking with him a simple torch that constituted of a rod-shaped piece of wood with a rag on the end, covered in pitch, and lit on fire. Simple, or rather practical, was its use, as it could be held in one hand. Jean hoped it wouldn't be so dark as to force him to keep hold of it during the fight, because then he'd be extremely limited.

Having gone through the necessary procedures to gain permission to enter a chamber already prepared for battle (because, while he often seemed quite patient, he preferred sooner rather than later), he quickly dashed his way over to chamber thirty-four and entered. That is when he finally found something interesting. No, it was not the opponent he had first sighted (though he did faintly hear someone in the distance), but simply his surroundings. How unusual for the inside of the building to be a whole new forest out of nowhere! "Curious, very curious" Jean drawled quietly to himself, but decided to focus on the reason he came here; combat. He initiated an absolute silence for himself, eliminating whatever sounds could be created by him and any twigs or leaves he might accidentally kick up while moving, and quite eagerly moved towards the location of the voices he could hear in the distance.

~

Elthas' question would fall short of an answer, for a drawling voice called out from the nearby trees before the elemental could respond to him. A dim aura of torchlight had shone with increasing intensity as Jean made his way into clear view, and once close enough to speak to what he assumed were his opponents, he did so, however keeping enough distance to allow a quick dash into hiding if need be.

"A pleasure to meet you. My name is Jean Lafitte. I take it that you are also here to do battle?" he asked them politely, a genuine smile on his face. He had cancelled the absolute silence for now in order to speak to them.

He took the time to stare down his opponents. An elf, he believed they were called, and some kind of mystical creature. Though perhaps only one of these two were his actual foe. He wasn't too sure on the details the monks had given him, so he wouldn't know the details of which one he'd be fighting, but he didn't mind. Going in clueless was one of his favourite options.

Jean held his torch in his right hand, and a metal rod-shaped device in his left, which was his retracted cue stick. He wore his standard outlandish outfit of black and white, and he clicked his tap shoes on the forest floor as he took in their reaction to his presence.

[Elthas_Belthasar]

Elthas of course was not surprised when his opponent had finally arrived. He was used to the introductions and the way that the monks handled their affairs. It was all part of the song and dance. Elthas turned to look at the elemental who was his current handler, and the thing was no longer amongst them. Sighing, Elthas walked over towards Jean and nodded politely in return. Though it was true that Elthas was a Bounty Hunter, he was here on neutral grounds and could engage opponents on equal footing. The harsh light from the torch hurt his sensitive eyes somewhat, but not too badly. Elthas could use his people's infravision and that fact could make him quite a dangerous opponent indeed.

Drawing his twin combat daggers, they were masterwork in nature, and quite beautiful to behold. Elven blacksmithing was focused around sleek designs and very particular craftsmanship. The Elves were a proud and secretive people, but Elthas represented the new generation of Elves. He had been exiled from the tribe at Ruild and a certain series of events had lead him to join The Syndicate in Radasanth. Elthas was a businessman who was quite set on methods of protocol. He'd experienced Citadel battles before and would probably continue to experience them. Clutching the grips of his magnificent weapons, Elthas looked at the device that Jean held in his hands. The device seemed to consist of an engineering capacity that Elthas had never seen before.

Smiling, Elthas had a gut feeling that he would be in for a long battle.

Elthas introduced himself.

"The name is Elthas." He continued. "Pleased to meet you Sir Lafitte. That is a bold name for a bold warrior. I look forward to doing battle with you like the warriors of old. You may initiate first strike." Elthas said politely and kept the smile on his face.

This will be quite grand. Elthas thought.

[Grandjester]

Jean noticed the elemental disappear suddenly, which took with it all doubts as to who his opponent would be for this battle. He eyed the man up and down as he introduced himself, and settled on a smile in return to Elthas' own. Jean was glad that the man did not behave rudely on their introduction, but was split between delight and disappointment when Elthas allowed him first strike. Jean, while not a man bound strongly by virtues and vices, prided himself upon his opening attack. In fact, that was the reason he had taken up the routine of allowing his victims the chance to retaliate before he struck them down, otherwise they always died in a single strike. However, this man was clearly different, well composed and equipped for the battle at hand. Jean decided that he would put his offer to the test and take the first strike. "Likewise, may this battle be both joyous and thrilling for us both, Elthas" stated Jean, before clicking his feet many steps backwards from his opponent, adding in a sly tone with his still present smile "Mind you, it would be wise to dodge this attack, rather than parry. Unless the rumours of elven physical weakness are just that; rumours". Jean meant no insult with that, in fact he assumed Elthas would be strong enough to at least survive the attack head-on.

With a distance of at least several metres between them, Jean glanced around for a suitable place to put his torch. He planted the wooden end into the ground and left it standing nearby before taking his original position, leaving the area dimly lit and freeing both his hands for better use of his choice of weapon. The metallic rod still held in his left hand would then, with a few faint movements and clicks, extend out into a cue stick. Jean then took up a readied stance similar to that of a billiards player about to take a shot. With his left hand held out infront of him at shoulder level, the pointing end of the cue positioned in the gap between the hand's thumb and forefinger, and his right hand gripped firmly on the rear end of the shaft, he was ready to strike. His eyes stared down his opponent and he began to concentrate on Elthas' movements, making sure he wasn't about to rush him down or dodge to the side, before opening his purple lips and uttering a seemingly nonsense phrase aloud.

"Aiming Line."

It might seem odd for Elthas as he watched Jean twitch the cue stick around to point rapidly at several parts of his body, rapidly deciding on an optimal location to damage like some kind of robotic pool shark eyeing the table for his opening shot to set off the game. Within Jean's mind, however, was something beyond such simple scope. A veritable matrix of complex thought patterns prepared long before the fight. It allowed the Yorfallian to take the time to choose a single location in his sight, and keep his aim true and his strike accurate. It was not perfect, as his sight could be fooled, or his blow could be too slow or weak to reach it's target, but nevertheless it was a useful mantra. For without it, his following mantra would be far too risky. The cue stick stopped being shifted, and Jean was now perfectly still, his weapon pointing at the centre of Elthas' torso. It was now that he would test his foe's defenses. He parted his lips a second time, and once more uttered a phrase, but this time it was different.

"Break Shot."

His feet kicked off the ground and launched him with incredible speed towards his foe, a direct charge with one simple task in mind, to connect the opening blow. The Break Shot was simple and complex at the same time. It was a mere straight thrust, but ever so efficient in the way it worked. The mantra followed a pattern that allowed the strike to be delivered at the peak of his strength, his body moving in just the right way to exert the full force of his attack by using all the momentum contained within his charge. While powerful, it was also extremely risky, as it had many openings. That's where Aiming Line came in. It made sure the attack was not easy to dodge, as Jean's lock on his target would let him follow their movements. It was also hard to block, due to the sheer force of the blow. However, like all his mantras, there was always a flaw, always something he did not calculate beforehand. He was not perfect, after all. The forest roared with the sound of Jean's feet beating savagely upon it's floor, and the gap between foes rapidly shrank as the fight began.