Soft Days (Open Battle)

[The Madd Hatter]

"The sunrise was beautiful. It always was, standing on the roofs in Radasanth. The flames would rise over the trees, scorching the leaves with golden rays then spill across the land in a hurry to reach me. That warmth made it worth being awake to feel this day's first warm beam hit my face. I would like nothing more than to see and feel this beautiful sun every day until it burns out, leaving a barren and empty rock behind. Today, I would like to celebrate this continuing rise of the sun with a warm up fight. Would you oblige?" Freddy finally turned to smile at the monk who stood patiently listening, and gave him a soft smile. After wiping an incredulous look from his face the bald young man nodded politely and held one arm out to lead him into the Citadel. His client tucked hands into a black as night tuxedo and strode down the hallway.

After a brisk walk, Freddy spun in his fine black leather dress shoes to face the door that the young monk indicated. As he arrived the robed monk coughed slightly, to try and get the intention of his client, who hadn't bothered to answer a single question during their walk. After a minute of the strange fellow still standing there silently staring at the door, the monk grumbled and just opened it. He would be damned if he cared what strange or boring arena awaited his client inside, especially if he couldn't elicit even the smallest hint of interest from the man. Some of the people he had to accommodate were so vastly strange, that when fellows like this game along he just grunted and went along with his duties. At least it wasn't a demon.

Freddy practically leaped through the open door, eagerly to examine the sight beyond the iron threshold. Before him laid a stretch of land ending in a rather sharp and dramatic cliff. The precipice came to a widows point, and he heard the loud roaring of an angry ocean beyond. From where he was standing, he could see a brick wall extending in both directions from the door to meet dense forest on either side. A glance up found that it was just as tall. Green grass and pleasant oak trees made up the bulk of the space, but an open clearing large enough for a one on one fight dominated the center.

The young man walked happily to the center of the clearing and waited patiently, staring at the watery horizon beyond the cliff. A sun was setting, permanently frozen as its deep fires breached the blue edge. "An elegant setting for a man to practice his trade; To learn how to kill."

[Hysteria]

The monk waved his hand at the door without the slightest attempt at encouraging the fighter. Talen assumed that someone or something had pissed him off enough to drop the standard showmanship that was characteristic of the monks of the Citadel. The youth settled for a nod of thanks thrown towards the monk and entered the door way. The sight was reminiscent of some of Talen’s earlier battles. The sound of ocean rushing into Talen’s ears and the slight salty taste upon the air; the youth felt alive.

The youth would be generously described as a ‘young boy’. Barely thirteen he carried himself like a much older warrior. The youth’s scraggily hair, pale, dirt smudged skin and unkempt black cloths hinted at his wandering life style. The little warrior stood for a second with his hands on his pants and looked across the clearing and surrounding forest before turning his eyes to his opponent. A rascal, thief and general all round mischief maker, he did have some manners.

“Good day sir, the name of the one that shall be defeating you today is Talen Shadowalker.” The youth followed with a bow. Upon standing up the youth’s black cloths trailed darkness. The shadows twisted up and around the youth’s arms and hardened into two arm-length gauntlets with cruel long blades on his fingers. At his hips formed holsters with his two specialised pistols and across his back in a cross his two broad bladed swords.

“As a certain bard I know would say, shall we start the play?” The youth smiled and flourished his armour hand.

[The Madd Hatter]

The threshold to the arena opened, and from it a small boy was departed. The child was nothing more than a street urchin, in disheveled clothing and a general lack of personal hygiene. Looking down upon the infant, Freddy reclined into the air, as if sitting in a rocking chair. As he sat there for a few moments, watching the shadows play tricks around the child and form weapons, the Hatter reached out one hand to dangle it in the air. He twisted and played with his fingers, molding some unseen clay, miming long and curved shapes. After a few moments, a blot of darkness formed between his fingers and spread outwards, changing into the silhouette of a long estoc. Slowly the shadows dripped off, revealing the shining silver blade beneath. He gripped the handle firmly, flourished it a few times to test the balance of his creation, then took a fighting stance.

“My name is Frederick von Maddsenburg, you may call me what you’d like. Your arrogance is adorable, as are your tricks. Let’s have fun!”

With the last word, he leapt forward through the air, aiming the sharp blade of the estoc at the boy’s throat. Age did not matter, youth did not matter, he would kill all that stood before him. Everyone would know his name, even if he had to carve it into their tongues.

[Hysteria]

An opponent with a quick tongue was a wonderful change to the usual drab opponents the youth had fought before. Formalities passed quickly, as did the calm before the storm as Fredrick attacked. Talen’s hand leapt to the hilt of one of the swords slung across his back. The youth’s body twisted, his shoulder dropped and lent forwards as he brought the large flat of his swords blade up against Frederick’s attack. The two swords sung as they struck metal on metal, the vibration mixed with the ecstasy of battle flowing through the boy at the first clash.

The youth kicked the ground hard in front of him and jumped backwards. With ease he landed in a skid and a slight spray of broken grass. The earthy sent as much a signal the match had started as the first attack. It only severed as another lever to the youth’s enjoyment and the youth’s eyes burned with excitement as he lifted his head back up to his opponent.

Showmanship ruled and Talen lifted his large sword (http://harlequinhues.deviantart.com/#/d5efyaf) and rested the blunt edge on his shoulder. The blade was a dark Damascus metal, at least half a foot wide and ending in a hook like spike forwards. A joyful smile crawled its way across Talen’s face as he lifted his free hand towards Fredrick. A torrent of darkness erupted forwards, splitting and breaking out into a dozen black ravens, wildly flapping and darting between Talen and Fredrick. The youth dropped forwards, pushing himself down under the shadowy illusion and bringing his sword across in a horizontal slash towards his opponent’s mid-section.

[The Madd Hatter]

The small child was far more mobile than Freddy would have believed possible, even for such a small frame. His defining thrust fell short, lacking the satisfying resistance of piercing flesh. As the boy moved backwards, the Hatter noticed that the child spent time drawing his weapon and making facial expressions. Wasteful fighting style, matched with unprecedented speed, and a knack for making shadowed objects; this opponent was all over the place! His next attack was planned, and five more after that. This was a game of chess that the Hatter was intending to win, his white queen would descend as a falcon onto this boy’s black king.

As the Hatter drew his sword up in a ready riposte, he watched the boy reach one hand out in front of him. At the same time, a marble spiral staircase began to grow out of the ground behind Freddy. He had intended to flee backwards to lunge forward once more from higher ground, but suddenly a flock of pitch black birds burst at him. The surge took him for a surprise, but he managed to get onto the stairs just in time to hear the air beneath his feet cry out as it was sliced.

Reaching the top step in only a single stride, now about ten feet above the boy, he leapt and brought the blade down in one great slice. Another blow intended to kill, aimed right at the child’s body.

[Hysteria]

Talen’s sword struck something; something he did not expect. The youth felt his hand nearly vibrate off as his sword bounced off the marble staircase that had suddenly appeared in front of him. The youth’s eyes shot up the twisting façade as the few remaining crows passed through the object and disappeared. The only flying thing remaining was that of the fanciful Frederick leaping through the air towards Talen.

The youth’s feet pushed into the ground, his body twisting as he forced every fibre of himself to move out of the way. The little warrior stumbled a metre to the side and fell to his knee unceremoniously. It was more than a simple stumble; it was a symbol of failure on Talen’s part. Failure that should not have occurred in his, slightly arrogant, mind. Anger instantly pulsated through the back of the youth’s next, like a pressure was building at the top of his spine. The youth’s armoured arms burst into flames as the very particles of his being vibrated with such force as to cause tremendous heat. The youth’s left hand came up to a gaping mouth as his magic condensed and a dark liquid burst forth. Passing over the flames on his hand the sticky liquid erupted with fire too.

As the liquid prayed out in a torrent of flames the youth pushed himself with his sword. He would not see himself fall again; he would carry himself with the pride that seemed so at odds with his outwards appearance.

[The Madd Hatter]

(Long one, sorry. Turning point!)

Thunk

The rapier’s sharp end sunk into the earth, slamming hard into buried rock. Shock ran up the blade and into Frederick’s arm, and for a moment he was trapped. That one moment was long enough, as he saw off to the side a flash of fire. It exploded out towards him, moving like a wave. At the last moment his instincts took control and finally relinquished the rapier’s hilt, but it was far too late. The flaming liquid slammed into his body, scorching and searing his left side. Even after the initial shock, the burning substance stuck to him, continuing to ruin the Hatter’s body. Pain shot through his body, every second crawling by as he struggled to move free. Something hard hit him, knocked his breath away, but he felt a cool breeze finally. Every twitch of wind and grass was a world of pain, reopening nerve pathways into floods of anguish. Unable to bear it anymore, he let out a guttural scream.

With the sound, his brain took control again, forcing the instincts down to the dark place they belong. The pain grew, but so did his determination. Opening his eyes, he took a quick stock of his surroundings. Apparently at some point he had fallen over, and now lay in the tall grass. That fact lead to him having a slight advantage, the boy didn’t know he wasn’t dead. It had become deadly serious, and the Hatter was ready to strike back.

Gritting his teeth, he stood slowly, his eyes blazing with horrible intent straight at the child. Now, the masquerade began. Steadily, his face contorted into an insane grin, his mouth stretching as close to his ears as it could. The Hatter’s clothes, half of which had been burnt away, began to quickly regenerate, covering the damaged flesh. Around him, the grass began to grow and grow black and twisted. Each strand became akin to a dark hellish blade. The sky itself seemed to darken as Freddy took one step forward. Black raven wings burst from his back, and his suit faded to a color deeper than the void. Smouldering embers burned in his eyes, and as he opened his mouth a furnace glow came forth. Both hands reached out to the air beside him, and lava poured forth, forming two mal-shaped molten daggers. Another step forward, the ground beneath him began to buckle and crack, parts of the earth breaking free and rising up. The trees nearby grew weak and withered.

The boy, who was between Frederick and the widow’s peak, was now almost in reaching distance. The horrible illusion spread out in either direction of him, making it seem impossible to pass. With sudden and determined speed, he rushed forward, swinging his blades wildly at an attempt to get the boy to run backwards. To escape towards the close confines of the cliff. Towards their final battleground.

[Hysteria]

Talen know that it was wrong to feel such joy at another screaming in pain, but that didn’t stop it from happening. The boy watched with quite interest as his opponent underwent the strange transition into a demonic form. The little shadowmancer recognised the dark madness running through the warrior. The flippant nature of Frederick was more akin to a hysterical rage now. To a follower of the dark god N’jal; Talen knew something about the darkness lurking within.

The boy shifted his weapon to his left hand as the flames died on his right. The boy stuffed his twisted gauntlet into his pocket and pulled out a half bent cigarette. Talen shoved it into his mouth and lit it off the flames still burning across his left arm. The sky darkened slighter overhead and Talen raised an eye brow in feigned surprise as his opponent climbed back to his feet in the demonic form.

The youth exhaled smoke into the air, adding to the already bitter taste of burn flesh and grass hanging in the air. The magic imbued in the cigarette coursed through the youth’s body, sharpening his reflexes and pumping more blood through the youth’s small frame. The boy didn’t flinch as a wall spread behind Frederick and his demonic form changed forwards. Talen heaved his sword across his right arm, supporting the weight partially on his shoulder and leaving his left hand free. The boy charged forwards too, the fire in his eyes just as bright as Fredericks.

The large edge of Talen’s sword sung as it struck the molten form of Frederick’s in the first clash. The youth held the blade broad side up catching the wild blow’s full force. The youth ducked low under the follow up swing from the raven-winged demon's other blade. Talen brought himself up and held the sword's hilt up into the air with the bade pointing down and braced against his shoulder in an attempt to catch both Frederick’s arms and fiery weapons to his right. The youth’s left arm came around holding on of his pistols slipped from his hip. The youth’s fiery hand pulled the trigger, sending a pulse of concussive shadowy magic towards Frederick’s midsection.