Not So Funny Now, Is It?

[Max Dirks]

Battle at your leisure folks. This thread must be completed by January 9th, 2014 at 12:00 AM EST. If you finish early, please submit it for judging per usual.

[Lye]

Lye paced in the dusty bowl of the old Theatre of War. This place was an arena of grand size, only open during the active season. The Ai’Brone monks still dwelled here during the off season. They were a strange bunch, dedicated to overseeing and maintaining the bloodiest of establishments. For what purpose, no one really know. There must have been a recent lack of effort, because a decent coat of dirt caused the empty rows of ivory bleachers to fade from their original luster. Several piles of bird droppings congregated in miscellaneous corners, and the occasional debris, lifted by the sea breeze, littered the ground. Even in the current state of neglect, the arena remained guarded day and night – to prevent those like Lye from entering.

He had little difficultly as he slunk in the shadows to get past the guards, but a sense of unrest plagued him. This discomfort lied not with the infiltration but with the improper handling by his Order of the Crimson Hands. In an attempt to keep his blades and mind sharp, the assassin enrolled himself in a battle competition. These kinds of events did not cater to someone who enjoyed working in the shadows, but the foes were said to be legendary. The master assassin typically directed his Hands of the Word to collect information on his targets and see to it they walked into an ambush. Unfortunately, they really screwed this one up.

“Jensen Ambrose,” he said to himself as he rubbed at the irritation which welled in his temples.

He was supposed to have Jensen led here by one of his more seductive members but alas, the twits back at base crossed their words and went a different route. His agents successfully collected information pertaining to the loss of Jensen's wife at the hands of a Cassandra Remi. The details of which were desolate to say the least. Further reports named two more individuals that had become close to Jensen, Tobias Greenleaf and Erissa Caedron. Feeling they could provoke Jensen easier with this information, they sent out a messenger Raven with the following words:

“Tobias and Erissa will burn in hell alongside with your whore Stephanie unless you come alone to the Theatre of War.”

It was only after the bird had taken flight that Hands of the Word discovered he was an immortal. Not only could he reanimate from any blow, but his speed and complex fighting abilities were said to be unimaginable.

Just what Lye wanted to hear.

The assassin knew he could simply sub in one of the new recruits to be slaughtered but given the nature of the note, this immortal would sooner or later seek the owner of those that sent it. If he was to truly test his abilities, why not against the fury of an immortal demi-god? Still, the poorly handled situation weighed heavy on his shoulders. Once he returned, broken or in one piece, someone’s blood would be spilled.

[Enigmatic Immortal]

The immortal liked to think he had a lot of patience. He allowed himself to be bullied by his peers growing up, taking in stride some rather crass remarks. He knew it took divine patience to deal with the day to day operations of running the Ixian Knights Wetworks division as well as ensure the safety of Sei Orlouge above all other priorities. Even when his father had died and his world was shattered during the hellish night known as the Night of Debauchery the immortal was still careful not to lose his cool.

The Raven who brought him the note, black as the bottom of a chasm, pecked at his window insistently. Its tiny beak continued to hammer away and Jensen lifted himself up from his bed with a groggy cry of annoyance. His feet touched the stone work floor, shivers of ice spiking up and down his spine as he let out a gasp of surprise. He stepped lightly across the floor to the window, tripping over his boots and catching his fall on the lip of the windowsill. He popped the lock and with a grunt pushed the sticky window frame outwards with a pop.

The messenger bird fluttered its wings, hovering before darting with grace to land on the windowsill dropping a note from its beak. With a caw right into his sleep filled face it fluttered up and turned away. Jensen narrowed his eyes in suspicion, standing up to his full height as he popped his stiff back, placing a hand on his right shoulder and sharply turning his neck to loosen the pops in his neck. His free hand unraveled the bound scrap of paper easily enough, and lifted it to his eyes and read the words.

Jensen Ambrose liked to think he had a lot of patience.

Whoever had sent him that note had a death wish and Jensen felt compelled to fulfill their final desires. If they wanted to call him out in such a blatant manner then who was he to object? He kicked his boots to the bed turning to his closet and tossing his jeans and shirt onto the bed. In seconds he was dressed arming himself with his throwing glaives by tossing them up in the air like a crazed chef. He spun his trench coat around his body filling in the sleeveless arms with his body catching the weapons before they collapsed to the floor with a clutter. He deftly plucked each one into their holster. He maneuvered himself to the dresser, pulling the top drawer open and dancing his fingers along each of the throwing knives, hooking the looped hilts into his grip and placing them in their rightful homes. He turned to the door walking out the hallway holding his arm out and grabbing the leather strapped holder for his switch-blade weapons.

He approached the door to his darling treasure; Azza. With a soft sigh he opened the door seeing her sleeping sweetly in her bed. Her stuffed animals were neatly placed on the shelf above her, save for one tiny wolf that she gripped tightly in her grasp. Jensen tip toed to her quiet as a mouse, his fingers running through her hair as he knelt down and whispered his love for his daughter, kissing her around her curved horns. The little one didn't know what race of creature she was, but Jensen had made it clear that his adopted child would always be his little girl.

That was how Jensen started his day. He intended to finish it the same way as well.

The old Theater of War was a relic of a long ago time. Jensen had to ask Andrew Octane for the directions to the fields of battle and what atrocities to mankind had taken place there. It seemed the Ai’Bron monks wanted to keep the deserted ruins intact for some unknown purpose, but it mattered little to the immortal. Less collateral damage meant Jensen could cut loose and really let himself go. He had gone into the Cell with the bravest and strongest warriors he had ever meant, including the dominating warrior Joshua Cronen. He had fought the abomination Draug Remi and came back to life stronger than ever and he tested himself in a way few people would dare dream of. It never even occurred to Jensen to ask Sei for assistance. This was personal, so Jensen would keep it that way.

He approached the arenas of the olden leagues, feeling his blood start to simmer in anticipation. The salty tang in the air made Jensen’s nostrils flare, his eyes narrowing as he avoided the monks who patrolled the forgotten stomping grounds. He noticed the overgrowing fauna, wondering why they would go to lengths to protect this site, but not lift a finger to keep its posterity alive. He shook the thought out of his head as he feet dragged through the dust covered stones towards the meeting arrangement of his clandestine duel.

After a few minutes of hiding in shadows and dropping out of the line of vision from sentries, Jensen had arrived in his location. The seats that once held screaming fans were wasted away, and the immortal felt the cries of the Cell spectators echoes in his ear. Yet he wasn't here to focus on the past. He stepped forwards letting the moonlight be his herald as he sauntered down the steps, slowly pulling on the leather steel plated gloves as his feet heavily trotted down the aged wooden steps. The gloves cracked audibly as he flexed his fingers around getting a feel for them as he entered into the central focus point of the raked seating amphitheater.

“You either have Draconus' balls to call me out in the manner you did,” Jensen muttered loud enough so his voice echoed. “Or the brain power of a mentally enfeebled squirrel. Either way I don’t really care,” Jensen’s hand reached behind him pulling out Cancer’s Pincer and letting the switch-blade sword dance around his body in show. He chose to end his display of martial skill by activating the scythe mode and lazily letting the bottom drop and swing like an old grandfather clock’s pendulum tapping his foot impatiently.

Whoever the hell was calling him out either was strong themselves, or about to realize how big of a pile of shit they just jumped into.

[Lye]

Click.
Clack.
Click.
Clack.

The assassin scowled at the sound. The steps carried a weight and purpose - something a guard or Ai'Brone monk would not have this late in the night. He shot a glance toward the noise and say the lean musculature of what he assumed was Jensen Abrose. The sight of leather gloves losing their texture from being over-taught caused the anxiety to rise at the back of Lye's mind. The cracking of an angry fist meant that his guest was indeed here to beat someone to a bloody pulp.

"Great…"

The assassin's muscles grew tense, and he stopped his uneasy pacing. Whilst his target spun around a rather painful looking contraption, the silver-haired killer tilted his head side to side with a series of wet pops. He then rolled his shoulders to work out the rigidity and to flex the attached leather armor. The black denim leggings, gloves, and boots were going to prove little protection in the events to come. He knew that his only chance to avoid a certain death in combat would be the flexibility to dodge, and precision needed to strike something vital.

“If it’s any consolation, I would have preferred luring you here with one of my sensual, female colleagues,” Lye replied to his insult with a hand prepped to draw one of many weapons, “but I have a feeling I’m going to answer for the dead man that wrote you that message.”

His green gaze locked onto a swinging blade in the confident grasp of the immortal. The transforming blade was not mentioned in their research and the lack of knowledge had already put the pale killer at a disadvantage. Lye knew there was no holding back and his bones already began to scream for a full onslaught. He mentally prepared, clearing his mind of doubt, then ran a light touch across the five blackened, carbon steel needles sheathed at his side. Their faint gloss shining in moonlight faded to black before the needles hauntingly lifted from their homes and maintained a steady floating arc behind the assassin. The tips aligned themselves pointed towards the demigod’s heart.

“I suppose this means my intent to interest you in working with me is shot then, Mr. Ambrose?” The assassin fetched his two foot katars to the ready.

A smirk crossed his face, not in a sign of mockery, but for the sheer thrill of testing his own mettle against someone so formidable. The cold evening winds kicked up the dust from the forgotten architecture, dancing playfully with the crimson vlince scarf that hung loosely around his neck. Lye's stance became aggressive.

“As an apology, I’ll let you take the first blow… if you can hit me.”

The assassin wouldn’t be dying for anther man’s mistake this night.

[Enigmatic Immortal]

“And you are?” Jensen said sizing up his opponent with the smallest of glances. He leaned back on one foot, placing the weight on his heel as he felt his blood softly stir within him. His grip on the weapon tightened, the leather smoothly gripping around the hilt. He made every action painfully slowly and deliberately as a final warning not to test him.

He waved a hand in front of his face, dismissing his previous comment. “It just occurred to me that it isn't going to matter in the long haul anyway. I’m going to destroy you anyway.” He lifted his scythe up in a lazy swing letting the titanium weight land on his shoulder as he took in a deep salty breath of the air. He let out a smug smile as he pointed to his ready and waiting foe. “You don’t even have the damned guts to call me out yourself. Some idiot had to do it for you. Is that the same guy who wipes your ass?”

Jensen felt a bit of smugness wash over him and he dismissed it with a shiver of anticipation, a dark chuckle escaping his lips as he started to move in on his opponent. “You have to be somewhat informed of whom I am to fight me, right? Otherwise you wouldn't have just placed your foot so firmly in your mouth. I mean…who the fuck walks up to someone they just threatened and offer them first hit?”

Jensen’s nostrils flared as he took deep breaths, sniffing the air for dramatic effect. He lowered his weapon to his side, slapping his knee as the giggles came over him. Though he looked well and truly like he was losing his mind, he was actually losing his cool. This man was starting to piss the immortal off. “You know what I smell?” Jensen’s body stopped moving as his voice lowered into a deep, threatening, tone. “I smell a coward. A useless. Fucking. Coward.” Jensen let his words pickle in before he moved again, lazily coasting side to side like a drunk, his weapon held to the side outwards, switching back and forth between scythe and sword mode. Each time he flicked the rune the tension rod would make an audible click, and the sound of metal sheathing and unsheathing echoed.

When Jensen was mere feet away he looked to the man before him, taking all of his body in. “Shit, I got nothing better to do. You survive my first free hit; and the several others I plan to land on you,” he muttered under his breath. “Then I’ll let you have your due and listen to your proposal. So…first hits free, eh?” Jensen smiled, a wolfish grin that showed all his white, perfect teeth.

In a blink of an eye he moved with speed. Bringing his weapon up in sword mode in a bottom left to upper right slash. He finished the apex of his swing with an inward turn kicking out with a stiff boot; with the intent to finish moving swiftly forwards with weapon in hand, activating Scythe mode to reap his head clean off.

[Lye]

"Coward."

It rang firmly within his skull. He hated that word. For some god awful reason, the most arrogant and cocky of foes loved to use that in their vocabulary. Seth Dahlios, among numerous other nameless thugs and ruffians all spit that in the assassin's face. Granted, Lye was not the most stable of individuals, but if there were a set of trigger words, "coward" would rank top five. Immediately, his expression grew flat, his posture loosened, and eyes grew into an icy glare. Immortal or not, Lye was going to draw blood.

Jensen was but mere feet away before he finished his aggressive verbal parade. The man oozed confidence to the border of absolute arrogance.

"I am no--"

"Shit!"

Reaction time was limited and immediately the assassin regretted his own ignorance. His body did not seem to move fast enough; he felt the searing tip of titanium drag through the thick leather hide of his studded vest. Adrenaline was quick to act and slow perception of time, ironically allowing him safety from being sundered in two yet painfully lengthening the feeling of Jensen's blade parting the surface of his flesh. Lye barely avoided a fatal blow. The thrill of battle pumped feverishly in his veins to heighten the senses, allowing a speedy block of two blades to one boot. Although just enough to disperse the force of the blow, they did not negate it, and the assassin was pushed several feet backwards. His own boots rooted to keep his balance, leaving a wake of dust as he slid. The familiar sheer of the enemy's exotic weapon rang and commanded the assassin to look up. Eyes grew wide and Lye's injured torso tensed in defiance to the sting of pain. He managed to bend out of the way in just enough time to only lose locks of platinum hair and shreds of crimson scarf.

"What the fuck was I thinking?!" he shouted within his own mind in testament to Jensen's speed.

Lye exhaled before drawing a long breath; the wind returning to him from the previous impact. His senses struggled to regulate with the burst of adrenaline that saved his head, yet he immediately righted himself and moved in closer to the immortal. His vision was spotty and moves slightly less graceful than the norm, yet he managed a punching thrust of his katar toward the side Jensen had exposed to accomplish his final horizontal sweep. Lye's boots crossed one over the other, pivoting his light frame to take advantage of the immortal's continued momentum and place him behind the attacker. Two of the five floating needles still hovering at his back spread wide and shot forward with the speed of an arrow to Jensen's shoulder blades. This close combat left little room for error. Thusly, his gaze remain locked on his foe, and the remaining katar tucked close to Lye's body.

[Enigmatic Immortal]

Jensen's eyes bore holes into his opponent with the intenisty of a volcano erupting. His cockiness and smugness, matched by his silver tongue all served to just piss Jensen off more and when he achieved that first blood he felt a sting of pride in his beating heart. Lye's less than graceful counter attack was dodged with grace, the katar's keen edge sharp enough to slice a new hole in leather trench but no more lasting damage than that. Jensen's years of fighting kept his guard up as he dipped into a dancers like bow, twirling back to stand before this man who assaulted him.

It was a brawl of speed and agility. Each strike was faster than a normal human could react, cobra like reflexes causing the wind to rustle around them kicking up dirt and leaves. It swirled between them, the earth and the air warring as Jensen and Lye warred with one another. And in the span of a few heartbeats, the two faced one another, the dirt settling to the ground.

Jensen was about to say a smarmy line when he noticed the tiny arrow like darts lance at him like two unfed wolves. Reflexes took over as instinct kicked in, replacing the discipline arts of his attack to a floundering defense. He bent backwards reciting the incantation of the wind from his lips, his hands willing the element to his aid as the gust of a breeze picked up and pushed at the darts. One fell off course lost to the shadows of the arena. The other landed upon Jensen's shoulder piercing the deltoid muscle eliciting a painful shrill and a demented half whine, half chuckle as Jensen gave another once over to his foe.

"Well, well," the immortal muttered with a few giggles escaping the corner of his lips. "You survived round one. State your business. If I like what I hear, maybe I won't gut you like a fish after all."

[Lye]

As foretold, Lye drew blood from the immortal. The sight of his needle within Jensen's shoulder, and the trickle crimson that grew both fueled the lust for blood and firmed his resolve.

"Killing blow on the first move?" Lye mused, his footing firm. "I like your style Ambrose."

He felt like prey after he witnessed the speed of this demigod. Still, Lye persisted in his his rigid, aggressive stance. He paced, one foot over the other, around the immortal as though waiting for the perfect opportunity to turn the tides.

"My business is with your relations to the Ixian Knights."

While he spoke, another needle lifted from its holster to join its three suspended brothers above the killer. Their dull, black finish rendering them nearly invisible against the backdrop of the midnight sky. The moonlight gave no play off their slick surfaces and barely possessed the strength to cast their shadows upon the dusty floor.

"You're a natural born killer, Jensen. You have no place with the just actions of the Knights."

Lye continued to pace. His eyes remained carefully locked with his foe's, and the immortal remained wise enough to monitor him in kind. Though he nearly circled to his opponent's blind spot, Jensen casually lifted his feet to turn and deny the opportunity. A faint chuckle escaped Jensen as the unique weapon he possessed propped against the injured shoulder. Not a flicker of pain crossed the immortal's face. Lye smiled beneath his scarf to this observation.

"Why are you offering yourself to them as a tool - as the trump card to snuff out all their little problems? Aren't you beyond that sort of trivial drab? You're an immortal. You're not bred to protect those fools... unless you like keeping pets. Or rather... being kept as one yourself."

Lye halted his steps. He grew tense and rose both exotic blades to the ready. The salty air of Radasanth teased at his nostrils while the assassin drew a deep breath. The assassin maintained an aggressive posture, but made no obvious efforts to attack.

"Why not put your skills to a better calling? You don't need false allies or bullshit morals. You're a killer, Jensen. Stop acting like a dog of some lord's castle. Leave the Knights."

Lye spoke with a hint of venom. The ferocity of the immortal was inevitable and for that, Lye's hair stood on end. The thrill of combat, no matter how treacherous, fueled the fires of his blood lust. He succeeded in making the demigod bleed. Now, it was a matter of how much?

[Enigmatic Immortal]

Jensen felt his own blood swim through his veins at high speeds, adrenaline bursting though the seams in desire to get back to the thrill of combat. The man in front of him had commented about his current stance within the Ixian Knights and Jensen felt a pang of emotion he couldn't place. Was it regret? was it shame? Either way the more he droned on and on about the warrior being a killer made that pain intensify and Jensen was unsure what to think or say.

Twirling daggers to a ready position the would be assassin presented himself back into a ready stance, his conversation finally over. The immortal continued to eye him, unsure how to proceed as he processed his words. Ignoring his feelings he prepared for combat himself as he adopted a lazy stance, arching his back to a reclined position and letting his scythe rest in a downwards swing between his fingers. He could feel the wind pick up around his feet again making his coat dangle in the breeze, his eyes never leaving the sickly ones of his foe.

"You called me out," Jensen said lowly, his voice nearly straining to be heard. "Insulting the memory of my loved ones, disrespecting my comrades," Jensen lifted the weapon up, switching it into sword mode with heated actions, his eyes narrowing. "To tell me the one man in my life who ever gave a damn about me, sheltered me and my family, and taught me to be better than the riff-raff that you want me to become?!" he let his body shake with building rage as the energy within him began to grow again.

In a flash he moved again, swift as the wind. His weapon was behind him, activating into scythe mode in preparation to reap this man's skull. His other hand moved to his belt, pulling up Seth Dahlio's steel dagger that was stained crimson by the poison of the Red Forest. When he was upon on the man he jumped forwards, prepared to embrace his enemy in a fatal manner with a manic grin to welcome him to the afterlife.

"You clearly lost your head..." Jensen seethed through his teeth with dark chuckling.

[Lye]

The assassin reveled in the mixed expressions his target evoked. The minor adjustments to the immortal's brow and hallowed eyes indicated a degree of success to the verbal provocation. Lye retaliated with a hidden smile of his own while he stood at the ready for his words.

Then, they came. The hiss of undirected confusion and anger began to whistle like a kettle above a hearth. The luster in Jensen's eyes sparkled with life, or was it sadness? They narrowed upon the assassin and Lye loosened himself for retaliation. Sure enough, the immortal took aggressive actions.

"You honestly believe that he cares about you?!" Lye replied as Jensen ended his swift dash with a bounding leap. The assassin dropped low and pushed with all his might to the left. His body shot aside and became a messy dodge roll. The maneuver kicked up a light fog of dust and left his pristine white hair a tainted shade of tan. Lye stopped his momentum by digging his bladed heels into the soil and faced his threat in a crouch similar to a cougar stalking prey.

"If he cared so much, then why did he let your loved one's perish?" Lye spat. Though the opportunity for a counter blow existed, the assassin did not act. His words had gained ground on Jensen, and this much had been made clear by the sloppy assault. If the immortal had stayed with feet on the ground, he would have surely overcome the killer with sheer speed. Luckily, the wild and wide attempt to bury a dagger in Lye's back showed a loss of finesse in favor of physical expression.

"He can read minds, I know," the assassin continued. He remained crouched, for he knew the Immortal still held some resolve to cleave the assassin's head. "What did he do when you lost Stephanie? He acts like he cares, but he's more concerned of your true nature. Jensen, you are not a tool, but you're meant to be alone. You must always be. The sooner you embrace this, the sooner those around you will stop dying."

Lye's needles remained behind where Jensen just made his assault. They floated magically in the air, masked by the black of night. They were the assassin's trump card in dire need.

"You can only rely on yourself, Jensen. This is why I brought you here - to save you from another mistake. Trusting the Ixian Knights and their lies will only get Tobias and Erissa killed."

[Enigmatic Immortal]

Jensen fought to ignore the man's words, but it was getting increasingly harder and harder to do so. Measures of truth poured from his honey like voice and took deep root in the immortal's psyche. The immortal didn't know when it was he snapped. Probably when the assassin accused Sei of not caring about the immortal. It could have been when he mentioned the death of his beloved fiance, Stephanie. Yet when he commented on the possible harm that could befall his friends he let it all compile to a point where Jensen literally snapped. With quick action Jensen moved on his prey, his weapons switching to their most compact form and being placed on the ground with a loud ruckus as they were left behind.

He was tired of the head games, tired of the duplicity, and more importantly, tired of caring anymore. Whoever this man was he needed his mouth shut and Jensen felt obligated to do so. He sprinted towards him with all the speed and agility he was known for, breaking past the grounds with surprising ease. He bounded as he moved like a gazelle in flight. His fists lowered to each side in herald of the method Jensen chose to finish the combat. Good old fashioned knuckle to face application.

Jensen dipped at the apex of his run, preparing to throw up a violent uppercut. He would grab Lye's body before he fell, pulling him in for a hay-maker right across the nose. He would let him tumble, woozily trying to stand, before he would use the man's stomach as his own punching bag. And then, when he was done, he would finish him off one of his award winning punches.

But the bastard would know, through the whole beating, that this is what he asked for, and he would learn to fear this.

[Lye]

The killer’s emerald eyes narrowed at the sight of Jensen disarming himself. A small grin grew upon Lye’s lips despite his efforts to remain stoic.

He successfully infiltrated the immortal’s mind.

The approach continued and the blazing anger was apparent by the expression. Had the cool breeze not been a reminder of the night air, Lye would have been lit ablaze by the seer fury brewing in his opponent. Lies could be shrugged off with ease, for they had no merit. The truth on the other hand… Nothing stings more – angers more – than the futility of beliefs in the fires of truth. This phoenix was now in a full inferno. Lye braced himself gleefully.

“Come at me…” the assassin provoked.

The immortal obliged.

The yards between the two closed with demonic speed. The immortal appeared within inches of Lye and left no opportunity to defend; an opportunity Lye would not have taken if offered. The first blow connected under the jaw, and the assassin jerked from the force. Both blades fell loose from Lye’s hands as his body took to the air. A flash of light burst into his eyes from the impact which would shatter a normal man’s mandible into powder. The brief moment of flight halted abruptly as another impact slammed into his chest, gripped at the leather vest with god-like strength, and planted another mind shattering blow into the assassin’s nose. Even for someone with bones far more resilient than imaginable, the sound of a wet crunch broke the midnight silence. The force flung him like a rag doll, and Lye’s foundering body skid along the dusty earth to leave a haze in his wake.

The assassin’s corpse stopped. It coughed wetly.

“That’s what… I’m talking about…” Lye groaned as he struggled to regain impaired senses and stand. “This is what you are meant to do.”

The dusty cloud darkened, then parted, and Jensen was again upon him. The immortal’s fist penetrated his stomach. The exceptional hardness of bone in Lye’s skull was one thing against the might of the warrior, but the soft tissues of his gut was another. The air rushed from Lye’s lungs, his eyes grew wide enough to fall from his skull, and he doubled over. Rest was not for the wicked, for Jensen relentlessly continued the onslaught to his midsection. Each impact spat blood from his mouth where air should have been. As if the assault were not enough, the asphyxiation from continued volleys brought darkness to the corners of Lye’s vision.

It stopped. The assassin’s chest heaved, unable to draw air. Blood ran as a river from his mouth and nose. Finally, a gasping, wet, and wheezing breath.

Another punch.

Two fists this time, driven like a jackhammer into Lye’s sternum. He flew several feet, and only stopped by the generous assistance of a stone against his back. The hollow crack of his skull sounded against the wall and stars flared across his vision. Time stopped. The disorientation of forcibly stolen breath plagued him like a night at Moody’s Ale Cellar. Thoughts became lost in the torrent of bodily damage. They all struggled to take priority in his mind; which injury hurt more? The assassin’s body slumped against the edge of the arena, cast in the darkness of the moonlit shadows. It slid down to its knees, then forward.

Lye braced himself with his hands, and staved off a much needed nap in the dirt.

A cough of blood ruptured a splatter of deep red into the Coliseum’s floor.

Then, a weak chuckle.

“You are... meant to be alone, Jensen...” A deep, wet breath was drawn, followed by another sputter. Then, more red. Lye lifted his bloodied head to his assailant. One scarred eye was completely scarlet from ruptured vessels. But through the blood, he cracked a smile.

“You’re a killer… stop being the master's dog.”

Needles that hung high in the sky, his trump card, shot down from behind the immortal. They flew wildly, and without aim in the last ditch effort to kill. While the gap between the two closed, the shadows around Lye enveloped him like hungry Fallien ants consuming their first meal in years. They swallowed his broken form completely. He became one with the darkness, then nothing at all.

The crimson assassin was no more.

With those final words, he left the immortal to the silence of his own madness. The two titanium blades were absent from where they fell, and all traces of the killer became a whisper on the twilight breeze.

“I’ll be seeing you again soon, Jensen…”

[Enigmatic Immortal]

Jensen could see the wisps of shadows snaking their way upon the Crimson Assassin's flesh like the soothing touch of a lover. Rage embodied Jensen, lips opening with a screech of frustration as he willed his opponent to stay. His blood covered face was a mask of crimson hate, and he reached out to grab at the man before tiny pin like needles struck Jensen down.

His knee hit the earth first with a thud, body letting out a spike of pain that made his vision flash white. He fell to one hand, the other resting next to him. Lye's blood dripped down his nose like rain onto his dusty boots, staining them. He let out a seething breath, laughter long gone as he took a few shallow breaths. He didn't even bother to look where the green eyed man had been bruised. It was clear he was gone. Wincing in pain he fought to stand upright, using one arm to brace himself as the other struggled to pull the pins out of his back. When he was free of the bloody tools, their remnants in a heap at his feet, he stood tall once more looking to the gloves he wore.

Stained in the blood of an enemy. But this time...this time it was different. The blood of his foes felt lighter on his knuckles. The taste of someone's blood he punched for the thrill of a fight had lacked that particular tang. Instead it tasted heavy and disgusting. Spitting to the floor and flicking his wrists he turned, his jacket sweeping the dirt on the ground kicking up dust. He walked towards the stadium seats thinking back to the words he heard. He tried to ignore what the bastard had said, but his mind couldn't remain calm as he flexed his hands into fists making the leather creak loudly. He didn't even notice.

"Sei is my friend," Jensen whispered to himself. "Sei has always been my friend," It was becoming a mantra. "He took care of me when I spurned him."

You honestly believe that he cares about you?! the haunted whispers sang.

"He protected me when I was weak. He loves my daughter as one of his own."

If he cared so much, then why did he let your loved one's perish? It mocked him, spat at him.

"He did everything he could for Stephanie." Jensen all but screamed that as he fought the voices pickling in his psyche.

If he cared so much, then why did he let your loved one's perish? It was cold and sickening, but not with malice or mockery. It swirled all around him like an audience of the damned speaking in many voices the same words over and over. Jensen felt woozy as he climbed, fighting off the effects of his own mind.

"HE DID ALL HE COULD!" Jensen screamed into the darkness. The immortal's body fell upon the top step looking at the sky.

There was silence. No words spoke to Jensen as he looked at the moon. The immortal just gave a blank stare at the sky, watching the orb look back at him. Jensen heard one final voice speak breaking the silence. A ringing tone of the damned that shook his own spine in trembling fear. It was a new sensation, for Jensen never once felt such an emotion, but he knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that he at last felt true horror.

He can read minds, I know, Jensen felt tears streaming down his face as he heard the one voice that caused so much terror in his own heart.

"If he cared so much, then why did he let Stephanie perish?" Jensen said aloud.

[Quentin Boone]

Thread Title: Not So Funny Now, Is It? (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?27064)
Judgment Type: Full Rubric
Participants: Lye vs Enigmatic Immortal



Plot: 20 --- 20

Story- 7/10---7/10
You both did a good job here of telling a story through your battle. You managed to link it with previous events well and it had meaning to both of your characters' plots and development.

Setting- 7/10---7/10
Both of you did a good job of building the setting into something that the reader could see well. Little details were added throughout to keep the setting in the reader's mind. A higher score would have been achieved by using all five senses.

Pacing- 6/10---6/10
The battle moved at a reasonable pace and kept the reader engaged. The action scenes, however, seemed to fly by and felt a little rushed. While they were meant as punctuation for the conversation of the battle and were fast due to the speed of the characters, a little more detail on those moments would have slowed the pace slightly and made them feel less rushed.



Character: 18 --- 20

Communication- 6/10---7/10
Lye: Your dialogue was mostly good but felt cliche in a few places. EI: Your character's dialogue felt spot-on and the internal dialogue at the end really added depth.

Action-6/10---5/10
Both of you did a good job with your characters' actions. Lye took the beating expected with such a level difference and Jensen showed his skill and increasing annoyance well. EI lost a point here due to the lack of actual fighting in the thread - he came with the intention of killing Lye, and that annoyance was built up throughout the thread, so it felt a little out of place for Jensen to stop his beatdown to let Lye speak as much as he did.

Persona- 6/10---8/10
Although Lye's character's emotions were portrayed well, it felt like the crumbling of Jensen's loyalty and belief didn't really affect him, despite that being his goal in the thread. Enigmatic Immortal did a fantastic job of displaying Jensen's emotions; from the initial irritation caused by the letter, to giving Azza a kiss while she slept, and again that final post really hit home the effect Lye had had on him.



Prose: 20 --- 20

Mechanics- 6/10---5/10
Both of you had several errors here, including awkward word choices, missing commas and a few typos. EI, however, also suffered from issues with tenses. At several points throughout the thread, past-tense was mixed with present-tense verbs that were out of place and hurt the flow of the writing. If you want specifics on this, EI, feel free to PM me.

Clarity- 7/10---7/10
The writing from both of you was clear and let the reader know exactly what was going on. An even higher score could have been achieved if the characters' positioning within the arena was described more: The setting was well-described but it was difficult to place your characters within that setting.

Technique- 7/10---8/10
You both used an appropriate level of literary devices for the thread. EI wins out here because his use of metaphor mixed well with his writing while Lye's occasionally stood out to detract from the rest of the writing.



Wildcard: 5 --- 6
I enjoyed both of your writing and the thread was a pleasure to read. I have to give EI an extra point here, though, for his final line; it just spoke volumes and really hit home that the thread was a success.



Final Score: 63---66

Enigmatic Immortal (http://www.althanas.com/world/member.php?14249) Wins!:


4313 EXP!
80 GP!

Congratulations!


Lye (http://www.althanas.com/world/member.php?2900) Receives:


1125 EXP!
40 GP!

[Lye]

EXP & GP Added!