Round 1 Part A-1v1 (1)

[Solar Haven]

Begins March the 8th at 12:01 am EST. The fight ends March the 23rd at 12:01 am EST.

Participants: Enigmatic Immortal vs Lye

[Enigmatic Immortal]

Dark, dank, and dirty were the most commonly used terms to coin the tunnel network that Jensen had the oh so boring pleasure of guarding. He sat upon a barrel of water supplies, leg dangling forwards before clicking against the oaken frame sighing as he felt the cool wall against his back. Several Ixian soldiers moved about placing boxes of supplies out, makeshift camp tables lit by witch-fire so they could see the diagrams more clearly of the network of underground passageways.

For many of those ignorant the Ixian Knights had actually once been an organization that lived within the tunnels under Radansath. People had trained, warred, and fought within them for many years. When it was revealed to Kyla that the tunnels leading into Eiskalt were still usable it became clear that they were to be a high priority defensive target. Ever since the Night of Debauchery the Ixian Knights had learned to protect the underway from rats and the like.

Yet it didn't make it any less boring.

"By Yedda's sagging tits," Jensen groaned while suppressing a yawn. "I would kill for some action." He closed his eyes and tilted his head into his chest, relishing in the sunlight that peaked into the cave entrance not twenty meters away. The portal was wide enough for seven men to stand abreast and march through, but right now one man stood in front of Jensen blocking all those glorious golden rays.

"Not a year ago and you would have been the happiest man on this assignment," the disembodied voice spoke to Jensen's left, and he peaked an eye to look at the familiar heavy leather armor. Stripped in red, lacquered black with golden studs, each one polished and fancy looking. The cropped head of the man before Jensen gazed down on him with judging eyes, but even though this man had condemned hundreds, they still could never reach their zenith when he spoke to his comrade.

"Stow it, Adolph," Jensen said to the Reclusiarch of the Ixian Knights Chaplains core. Warrior priests all, they saw to the spiritual well being of the soldiers under Kyla's care. With vicious temperament in battle they would raise the spirits of the fighting force, while simultaneously crushing the oppositions. "A lot changed in a year." Jensen closed his eye and rustled around to get comfortable.

Adolph let out a bit of a breath, eyes narrowing as his hand went to his belt un-clipping the chain that rested upon his leather waist strap. He gingerly pulled out the metal links, each one chiming against the other in a soft metallic clang as he used his other hand grabbing Crozius off of Jensen's belt. Startling the immortal, he pushed one hand to shove Jensen back into the wall, using the other keep his prize in control. When he clipped the chain to the weapon, warrior becoming one, he turned to his friend with a wide smile. Jensen kept himself on the barrel, it teetering back and forth as he eased it back to a comfortable state.

In a moment the tunnel was washed with fresh water, drenching some of the Ixians down the way. Splinters of wood sprinkled to the dirt making it muddy as the earth greedily absorbed it. Jensen fell to the floor and cried in outrage standing again as he turned to Adolph. "The hell was that for!"

"Testing my aim. You keep borrowing my weapon and I just wanted to make sure I knew how to swing correctly." The smile upon the priests lips was wide. "Looks like I'm out of practice."

"What makes you say that?" Jensen groused as he flicked his wrists of tiny droplets of water.

"I was aiming for your head." There was a pause in the tunnel as the Ixians looked to Jensen, some chuckling, others wide eyed and mouths agape, but one stern look from both the Captain and the Reclusiarch put their backs into motion like the harsh whip of a master. Jensen narrowed his gaze, but his face was still soft to his fellow knight. "Jensen, I do not like this assignment anymore that you. I demanded to Kyla I be on the front lines of the war, but she denied me. Glory isn't going to be had for everyone, but earning glory through defeat would be worse."

"Lecture me later, priest."

"You know why I am here right?" Adolph's words were measured and cold, and Jensen felt the weight of the man's stare bare into him with intensity strong enough to melt the snow on the upper land. The stale air was mixed with Jensen's fogging exhales as he looked back with a tormented grin upon his sorry face. "You lost control again," Adolph whispered. "You are not in your full stride. You attacked Findelfin ap Fingolfin without provocation and nearly cost us a powerful member to our brotherhood! You've been restless in your work hunting down the Cult of Blessed Torture, and you even snapped at Azza!"

"So what? Mommy doesn't like the reality of war?"

"No, Lady Kyla doesn't like watching someone she cares about tear himself apart!" Adolph fumed, his hand lifting in preparation to strike, but he kept his composure. "You are slipping, Jensen, and so that's why she assigned me to you. Sei spent years pulling you out of that abyss. Now I am here to ensure you don't fall over the edge again."

There was a moment of tension in the air thicker than the stuffy tunnel. Adolph did not back down from Jensen Ambrose, and the immortal felt his blood singing loudly to strike him. Yet with measured breaths the Captain of the Wetworks team nodded, a hand reaching up to Adolph's shoulder and gripping it tightly. Adolph was about to say something as his stance softened when Jensen suddenly spoke.

"Things change," Jensen looked deep into the tunnel as if he could see something the priest could not, and the tone in which he said it made Adolph's spine shiver.

[Lye]

Eiskalt’s lands were a barren white. Only formations of snow capped stone and groves of pine gave variety to the tundra. If for not the ingenuity of the Icebreaker house, civilized life would be impossible. Still, through the whistling dunes of frigid, white sands, beasts such as dire bears roamed freely. Nature still touched this frosty dessert and gave it life. In the shadows of towering trees and craggy rocks, the movement of critters bore a path from place to place as they attempted to avoid the watchful eyes of soaring predators. Eiskalt was barren, but very much alive.

Larger shadows carved their own path through the rocky cliffs. These were more than mere critters, and the birds of prey knew better than to seek them as food. They traveled as a pack, moving strategically with a purpose. Closer now, the one at the front of the pack held up a hand, changing its shape to which the others stopped and watched. They nodded, then continued. Ahead of them stood defiant a blackness in the white capped crags; one of many caves leading a winding maze through the surrounding mountains of Eiskalt’s Kingdom. Once previously used by a race of lesser humans, named Neanderthals, they now remain as quiet graveyards. Only those seeking entrance or exit to the kingdom without attracting the watchful eye of the local guard keep these dormant tunnels alive.

This time, another shadow held up a hand, changing its shape as the others watched.

“Group of unknowns,” it silently signed, “Fully armed. Twenty Meters ahead south by southwest.” It then pointed toward its nose as though indicating the information was collected by scent alone.

The leader of the pack replied in kind, without the use of words. The icy winds carried several strands of platinum white hair from under the fur wrappings of this figure. Two green eyes peered out from underneath as it addressed the pack that followed.

“Ready weapons. Stay silent. Attack on my command,” he conveyed with his hands while only the whistle of Eiskalt’s relentless cold broke the stillness.

They nodded in affirmation, drawing blades, bows, and exotic weapons from lands far across the Althanian seas. These shadows, these men of stealth, all hugged the tundra in crouched positions. Their leader, an assassin of The Order of Crimson Hands, formed a symbol to move out. As a unit, they continued as if ghosts upon the land. They encroached upon the cave entrance, their field of vision hazed by the wintery powder riding the windy gales. Faint voices became audible, and a torrent of water rolled from the cave’s mouth. They halted by the command of their leader.

“Magic,” he signed. “Stay alert.” With a gesture of his arm, the group advanced. Some stayed in their current position, where the others took to above and to the adjacent side of the cave's mouth. “On my command,” he reiterated, then he walked into the entrance.

Free from the fierce winds and stinging cold, this leader flung the fur hood from his head. This revealed the chest length of white hair, sinister emerald eyes, and partially revealed the crimson vlince wrapped carefully around his neck. The banter of voices halted, and the assassin continued his approach. The darkness took time to adjust, and the figures began to take form. As his steps sloshed in the now-freezing ground beneath, he made out a familiar face from the group.

“Seems we were fated to reunite, Mr. Ambrose,” the assassin cooed. Lichensith Urloké cracked a grimace to his opposition. Their faces remained stern, weapons at the ready. Lye halted his own steps, silhouetted by the light of the outdoors behind him. “And look at you, still one of the Ixian dogs. I thought you better than that.”

The assassin chuckled darkly, for these were the sparks to light a grand fire – the fires of war.

[Enigmatic Immortal]

The air stiffened with the arrival of the enemy. Soldiers quickly grabbed weapons, drawing up shields and swords and preparing to throw down in the ritual of combat. Adolph merely turned to gaze at the newcomer with a scrutinizing eye as he sized up the leader of this band of warriors. The Ixians remained at the ready, vigilant as one turned to keep an eye for any trouble attempting to sneak in behind them as the rest stood at the guard. Stepping forwards into the light made it harder for them to get a good look at the enemies numbers, but for Jensen Ambrose the warm greeting by the platinum haired assassin was all but inviting.

Adolph made a neutral gesture to speak, undoubtedly about giving one, and only one, warning to this newcomer. Lay down his arms and give up. No harm would come to pass; he would be safe in the prisons until the war was over. The intruder would have his word as the leader of the chaplains to a fair trial of the nation of Eiskalt for the atrocities that he willingly chose not to commit. Yet Jensen brushed past him with a drunken gait, snarling in wrath as he gazed closer to the green eyed man before him.

“You!” Jensen seethed, his breaths ragged and uncontrolled as he bit at the chance to shed this man, this one man who terrorized him so much in the past few weeks from afar. This would not be a heroic defense. With a sickening whine of a deranged hyena Jensen widened his grin. This would be no great battle that would boost moral. One step forwards, doggedly and measured, keeping the bastard in his sights. Adolph lifted one hand to detain Jensen, but it was too late. The echoes in the tunnel startled the bats as Jensen let out a wild screech of mirth, eyes wide and tongue dangling to the side with nihilistic glee to shed the one who invaded his mind.

This would be a stomping ground of mass carnage and slaughter to start the war in earnest.

The Ixians made ranks with spears held over the shoulders of the shield-men, who in turn lifted their sword arm up in defense creating a wall of steel. Advancing as one phalanx they arrived behind Adolph, who lifted Crozius up, blue humming energy thrumming at the tip of the heraldic cross. He shouted words to Jensen to detain him, but they were washed aside by the hysterical shrieking of the maddened knight.

“Let me show you my bite!” Jensen howled.

The immortal closed the gap with all the speed he was known for. Weapons were chosen carefully, fingers touching each pommel as he assessed his foe in the span of a blinking eye. He touched the handle of Lawbreaker and drew it with a smile. He thumbed the runic switch turning gun into sword, a metallic twang thundering in the acoustic cavern way. Jensen advanced aiming for Lye’s left hip and attempting to bisect his corpse all the way to his right shoulder. He would trample the man under heel, and stab his bleeding heart out and be done with him.

[Lye]

Lye reveled in the reactions he provoked from the immortal. His temper was like a harp, and the assassin demonstrated his mastery of the instrument. His whimsical taunts strummed such beautiful music from the Ixian. With one man versus a squadron and the killer clearly outnumbered, Jensen still took the bait. In their previous engagement, his blunt speed and fierce attacks nearly put Lye into the dead book. Though, as Jensen so ironically muttered, things do change.

Faster now, the immortal closed the gap.

"Predictable," Lye muttered.

Just like their confrontation in the old Theater of War, the blade came from underneath. As it rose, Lye moved. He stepped into his attacker and off to the side. Like water moving around a stone, the assassin maneuvered around the enraged immortal. Though still no match for his speed, Jensen's shoulder collided with his own, forcing Lye into a stumble. As tendrils of pain coursed through the assassin's arm, the immortal carried his momentum into the snow outside. Lye stumbled, gained his footing, and stopped with his back to the rest of the Ixians.

"Engage the enemy!" Lye shouted as he broke into full sprint behind Jensen.

As the assassin sped into the chilling open, his agents from The Order flooded into the cavern. They dropped from above, swept in from the sides, and violently engaged the Ixian Phalanx. All manner of magic, ability, and steel unleashed against one another into a blaze of battle. All the meanwhile, Lye and Jensen now stood opposed upon the wintery canvas of Eiskalt's wilds.

"Well, well," Lye scoffed as he rubbed the numbness from his shoulder, "Look at you! So eager to shut me up. I see you are still in denial."

The assassin drew both his titanium blades. Their shrill fell silent compared to the hiss of the frigid wind. Darkness of shadows enveloped both swords, a stark contrast to their surroundings.

"Because of your ignorance, Ixian blood will again be split," Lye seethed, crouched at the ready for Jensen's next move. "and this time it won't just be your own."

[Enigmatic Immortal]

Snow flew up in the air as Jensen descended upon the packed carpet. His limbs felt the stinging of the winter bite, body rolling to a kneeling position looking back to the assassin. He pulled out his steel plated leather gloves. He felt the metal against his knuckles as he took his time sizing up Lye while he waited, watching each taught muscle on the snake of a mans body.

Cries of battle echoed in the cave as Adolph's booming voice drowned them all out. Steel rang against shield and sword, blood spilling in a short span. Yet two warriors emerged from the cavern, looking to the immortal and smiling a vicious grin from ear to ear. Jensen returned it with one of his own picking up two of his throwing glaives with his fingers, twirling them between each knuckle and letting them loose with a flick of his wrist. The angled edges of the triangular weapon hooked to the flesh of the soldier by Lye’s right side, digging into his cheek and ripping out flesh as it climbed up like a berserk oliphant, impaling the eye and downing the soldier. The other glaive spun horizontally, whistling in the air and striking true into the open mouth of the other prey. With a gurgle of red spittle he collapsed backwards, nearly swallowing the jagged weapon as eyes wept and fingers scrambled to dislodge the glaive from his throat.

The ground was tainted in the crimson life-force of wounded soldiers. White patches were now dark red and melting into puddles of vitae. Jensen stood again, kicking up a dust whirl of the powered earth and trotted forwards, hand reaching for his gunblade, Lawbreaker, and placing it in his hands aiming at the one man standing in his way. To his credit, he didn't flinch nor bawk at the sight of the weapon. He merely clenched his grip tighter on his weapons.

Jensen wanted to pull the trigger, wanted to just end it here and now. It was a death the was honestly too good for the twisted bastard. Using any of his weapons to kill him felt insulting. But as his heart raced and his head swam with dark thoughts he instead lowered the gun, grin widening as chuckles from the bowls of hell itself escaped his chapped lips. The wind picked up all around the immortal causing the bottom of his weighted coat to swirl in the dancing breeze. His chuckling grew louder, more obnoxious and full of utter disdain for his foe.

Killing Lye was just too good for him. Jensen wanted to break him.

He kicked off the wind, pushing the howling gale towards his opponent. The rush of air would hopefully slow his movements enough for the faster knight to get into grips with this prick. He hit the switch, the wire within the gunblade shoving the bladed portion of the dehlar out with a slick shrill. He laughed into the wind, the force of nature carrying his every echo and whim as the warriors prepared to dance the dance of death.

[Lye]

Like a statue, Lye remained still against the beating winds of Eiskalt’s mountain passages. His eyes did not flinch nor waver as Jensen’s agility flung two deadly projectiles mere inches from his face. As the spatter of warm blood and gurgles of death added their tune to the melody of war, Lye remained fixed on the immortal. He even smiled as the corpses of his brethren marked the virgin snow. Their orders were to hold off the Ixians, and failure to comply meant death. For once, a member of the Orlouge’s pets did a favor for the killer.

“There we go Jensen,” Lye mused, “let loose. Kill. You are so close…”

Jensen did not speak, for the battlefield now raged in his mind. Like the relentless killer Lye tired to awaken, Jensen retrieved his weapon and set a dead aim upon the assassin’s forehead. This forced Lye to grin ear to ear. Jensen’s aim did not waver. Lye did not move.

“Do it, Jensen…” Lye urged with poison on each syllable. “Pull. The. Trigger.”

The rush of staring down the enemy’s barrel flushed the daunting chill of the wind from Lye’s mind. Instead, a fire far greater than the mouth of a volcano burned deep within his core. Madness, exhilaration, and bloodlust gripped the assassin.

“Do it…”

Jensen lowered the weapon, Lye scowled, and then the immortal finally joined the chaos. He loosed a cackle that would drive fear into the weak and uncertainty in the just. Lye was neither. As Jensen slipped farther into madness, Lye willingly followed suit. The look in the assassin’s eyes and expression on his face bled insanity. He welcomed the immortal’s rage. In fact, he loved it.

The silence broke and Jensen lashed out with his blade. It sang true and left Lye little window for error. The assassin attempted to roll from impact to catch the tip of the blade in the meat of his shoulder. The pain failed to register against the adrenaline coursing in Lye’s veins. The assassin continued to roll with Jensen’s blow, his own shadowy blades screaming out for blood. They raked at the immortal’s back as he sped past, and followed the first with a second. Their movements halted. Fresh crimson painted winter’s canvas.

“Yes!” Lye shouted with an eerie quake in his voice. “Yes, yes! More Jensen, more!”

The assassin lunged toward him for another volley. Both blackened blades hissed for vital areas in a dance of titanium. The glint of emerald tainted in the sick psychosis of a true killer sparkled through drifting sways of grey hair. When his strikes finished their arcs, he carried the momentum to his feet. A booted heel, affixed with an axe, drew up and across where Jensen’s head remained. He counted on Jensen’s speed. He urged the immortal to evade the onslaught. He pressured Jensen to loosen his restraints.

Whatever held this man’s sanity intact, the assassin sought to cut the ties - Lye wanted to unleash Jensen upon the world.

[Enigmatic Immortal]

Snow drifted in the air in puffy clouds. Limbs moved in a deadly rhythm of parry and thrust, counter and dodge. The two were in another plane of existence. Eiskalt's blue skies were lost as well as the few patches of snow buried dirt and grass. Nothing mattered anymore to each warrior. This war was nothing more than a pleasant convenience to let them loose like unfed wolves.

Arm lowered blocking foot, palm thrust countered by knee. They separated pushing off one another dragging up dust in their wake. Jensen stood tall, whirling to Lye with a riotous clamour of nihilism on his lips. The assassin crouched, fingers grazing the ground like a Fallien desert predator preparing to charge their prey. Like taught wires cut free they sprang once more. Daggers collided, sparks flashing against their black outfits in the white motif of the backdrop. They gnashed their teeth at one another, Jensen's body using every heightened sense he had to riposte and strike at his foe.

Lye's body was covered in bloody rags of his clothes, Jensen's weighted trenchcoat home to a few crimson holes that weren't there before. The pain didn't matter anymore. They merely acknowledged it as a flesh wound and focused on the rush of adrenaline they both had. The immortal felt the vibrations of his pulsing heartbeat behind his ears and even in his wrists. He could feel the liquid within him singing to severe the bonds of sanity and really show this upstart what true psychotic rage could do.

"Jensen!" The voice was foreign, distant like the whisper on the edge of the breeze. Jensen paused long enough, stumbling like a drunk. He blinked, snapping out of his bloodlust with a few shakes of his head. The voice gained strength as it spoke. "Jensen, control..." words were being formed in his head as he regained himself. He turned to the voice, watching Adolph fight with the battered and bruised Ixians to the cave mouth.

The assassin's men fought using every trick they could. Some men grabbed at the shields, pulling them away in their death throes while other faster soldiers swiftly struck exposed flesh, bashing aside the wounded to reach the spearmen. Adolph's Crozius lifted up striking the steel of a weapon and blunting the edge bending it awkwardly ajar. His backswing struck chin and the man spun, jaw shattered, maw gaping. Blood kissed the ground once more as the Reclusiarch stepped forwards. His voice had lost no strength as he called for his companion and friend.

"Jensen!" Adolph was mere steps away, hand reaching out. He could see the concern in his stern brown eyes. His lips were scowled, as if disappointed in something. Jensen felt his heart ache to see that image, but what followed it left a permanent scar within the immortal's psyche.

Adolph spoke, but only vitae passed his lips. Crimson covered his lacquered armor in a spray. He looked confused, as was Jensen, hands reaching to touch what had wounded him, but his eyes rolled into the top of his head. He dropped to one knee. It was then Jensen saw for the first time ever the warrior fall in battle.

"Adolph!" Jensen screamed, his mind racing with a million thoughts. He was a blur of movement, dropping down to the side of his friend digging into the snow. His knees felt the sting of the frost but he paid it no heed. Ixian soldiers redoubled their efforts, forming up to get to Adolph, pushing the tide of the enemy back to retrieve the fallen body of their spiritual leader. Jensen shoved the man onto his back, looking at the wounded warrior. The Reclusiarch opened one eye lazily, hand reaching up to grab at Jensen's coat.

Bloodied digits fought to grab at a small white flower pendant. Its petals were dyed red, made that way by Duffy Bracken's blood the last time Jensen lost control. It was kept on his body as a reminder to never let himself go that far again. Adolph placed it so Jensen could see it, breath ragged. With a raspy voice he spoke, almost low enough Jensen couldn't hear.

One finger touched Jensen's chest in the manner of a father making his point across to a son.

"You...promised..."

[Lye]

Blood mixed with snow in a myriad of white and red around them. Lye breathed heavily from the exhausting of merely keeping alive. Jensen's rage proved difficult to stave off. Per every fortunate blow the assassin landed, Jensen returned three in kind. Even with his body genetically able to withstand more punishment than average Althanian, his limits were pushed. Many of the wounds intended to be fatal were deflected just barely and at the cost of more gouged flesh. Worst of all, the longer they dragged out the clashing of blades, the faster and more aggressive the immortal became.

That is, until Lye's plan finally paid off.

The man whom showed concern for Jensen prior to his first assault reached out to the immortal. Though the thicket of warring bodies, he reached out toward his Ixian companion. At the cost of yet another deep gouge, Lye clenched his fist, and a volley of possessed needles shot from the shadowed crags of the cave into Adolph's back. The man stepped twice, one projectile prevented words, then he toppled to the snow. Lye's agony halted, for Jensen took to the fallen warrior. Lye used this as a moment to catch his breath. His open wounds oozed a thick crimson, and the chill of the Eiskalt winds stung at the exposed meat.

"You see," Lye managed through heavy panting, "your ignorance has caused another to fall."

Jesen remained silent with his back to the assassin. The sounds of battle, whistling gale, and recent injuries were forgotten in this moment. Lye advanced with bloodied steps to the two.

"You're meant to be alone, Jensen. The more people you surround yourself with, the more casualties there will be."

Lye stepped closer. Jensen remained fixed on the flowery pendant gripped within Adolph's fingers.

"You don't belong with the Knights. Killers have no place as a selfless band of guardians. Besides, where is your Sei Orlouge now? Absent like we was when Stephanie fell?"

The battle of men raged only feet away. The hands of The Order valiantly prevented the Ixians from intervening. Lye cautiously stood behind the killer with both titanium blades prepped to cleave his head asunder should he decide to return to their battle.

"The bastard is just as guilty as the woman who killed her, yet you still believe he's here to help you? He's keeping you leashed. He is preventing you from getting the revenge you deserve. I think it's time you give in. I think it's time you stop resisting what is natural ."

The assassin pulled his blades away, bent over, and neared his own lips towards Jensen's ear.

"Jensen," Lye whispered through the racket of battle, "I think it's time for you to abandon your resolve..."

Lye pointed to a particular member of The Order locked in blades with one of the Ixian phalanx. The assassin's breath summoned a demonic haze in the cold as he spoke.

"There is your killer. Have at it."

[Enigmatic Immortal]

It was a storm within Jensen's soul. Part sanity, part insanity battling with the ferocity of world ending proportions. Jensen felt his grip loosen, slowly, to the abyss of the dark places of his own psyche. Lye merely had to push Jensen, but the necklace in his hand was still held tightly. He looked to Adolph's face, seeing the warrior's stoic nature even in his death. He died.

He died because he wanted to care for Jensen.

His father died because he wanted to protect Jensen.

Stephanie died because she wanted to love Jensen.

There it was again. That nagging sensation. The haunting, twisted words of Cassandra Remi burned a hole within his mind as she spoke clearly to him. I'll kill you a thousand times, Jensen, without the knife ever coming near your heart. But you will feel its cold steel against your ribs, cracking them away as I plunge it in deeply with every person you love dying all around you.

Jensen stood, hearing Lye's words as he pointed out the killer. The flowers fell upon Adolph's chest. Eyes narrowed upon the member of the Order who had slain his friend - no; his brother! He picked up the dagger along his belt, letting its shrill ring bring him another step towards the abyss. This man had no clue Jensen signed his death. He would probably never even realize it. The weapon's drawing was methodical and slow as he stood like a rising executioner.

The laughter stopped. The blood stopped pumping furiously. Every part of Jensen was teetering on the moment. Then, after all the years events caught up to the immortal, the word games of the Dark Mother Cassandra Remi and the Crimson Assassin Lye, he at last looked down the hole of the abyss. Finally, the taught wire snapped.

Jensen Ambrose let go.

He moved faster than ever. He was upon the man who killed Adolph in moments. There was no demented chuckles, no cries of mirth. He didn't even breath heavily. He was upon him, knife extended outwards. He spun around him like a top, blade slicing his throat clean as tiny crimson waterfalls pooled down his chest. Jensen leaned back, dodging the thrust of a sword, his fingers latching upon the wrist of the warrior. Like a machine he pulled himself back up knocking his prey off balance. He kneed the man's wrist loosening his grip on the blade. The sword spun in Jensen's hand. In a blink it was lodged deep within the man's throat.

He stepped forwards, methodically like he were in a trance. Two of his throwing daggers were on his belt. Then to his fingers. Then in the eye sockets of two memebers of the Order. They screamed as they dropped their guards. Then they were silent as the scraping of metal hissed in the air. Two heads rolled at his feet, blood dripping from Jensen's cheek and nose. The red of his hair was darkened as the blood of his foes softly pattered to his boot.

He shrugged his trench coat off, revealing all the weapons at his disposal. He looked to the remaining soldiers that attacked the Ixians. He tilted his head releasing tension in his neck with an audible pop. He flicked up a dagger that once belonged to Seth Dahlios, covered in the poisonous sap of the Red Forest's trees. He moved like lightening, snaking around the Ixian shields with ease. He pirouetted, cleaved, hacked, and killed in a whirlwind of gore. He barely said a word, barely showed his exhaustion as he worked. The Ixians took steps back, alarmed as Jensen pulled one of the spears from a fellow warriors grip, knocking him in the face as he turned throwing it point blank into the chest cavity of the man in front of him.

Lye did not release the immortal killer. He did not just open the path of a sadistic murderer. He unleashed the rage of a warrior beyond redemption, beyond repair. Broken asunder, blood drenched, the Jensen Ambrose of the Ixian Knights was vanishing rapidly replaced by a psychotic sociopath. Gone were the gibbering and wails of laughter, replaced by a stoicism born from blood-lust.

In a few minutes of time, Jensen dropped his arms to his sides, chest heaving as he at last smiled. Not an inch of his face was flesh colored anymore and he his shirt was drenched. He turned to Lye, a look of pure malice. He just smiled, something far more unsettling than ever seen before by the immortal.

It was as if Jensen said to Lye, "Look at what you unleashed. Look at what your doom is going to do to you."

[Tobias Stalt]

Due to inactivity on Lye's part (there was a gap spanning from EI's last post to the cut off date of almost a week), I'm going to declare Jensen Ambrose the victor.

Congratulations!

Better luck next time, Lye.