The Pit of Despair (open battle)

[BlackAndBlueEyes]

Open to one. Bring it, suckaaaaaz.

The first thought that went through my mind as I reclined on the towering stone throne, shifting around to try and get comfortable, was that the monks had certainly outdone themselves this time.

I sat at the far end of a ten-foot-wide stone bridge set in the darkened depths of a cavern. Darkness had engulfed the opposite end of the bridge roughly one hundred feet in front of me, preventing me from learning how much farther the bridge went. The air was cold and damp. I could see my breath in front of me, as it was illuminated in a bright greenish hue by several floating lanterns that hovered at a distance from the sides of the bridge. Thick, dark vines had long ego erupted from the cavern floor and choked the bridged and throne that I had sat on ever since being teleported here to wait for my challenger. It would certainly cause a few problems once the battle began--I suspected that the victor would be the person who avoided getting their feet tangled in the spindly mess first as we danced.

I leaned over in the stone throne to try and get a peek at what lied below. The eerie light cast by the lanterns barely reached the cavern floor fifty feet below. Even so, I could make out the sharpened points of stalagmites jutting upwards, patiently waiting for a crimson paint job provided by the first unlucky sod to tumble over the sides of the stone bridge.

Oh--and I should probably mention this, because this is kind of important--there were no ropes or railings preventing either myself or my eventual opponent from tumbling over the side to our painful demise. Cute touch, monks. Every step could be my last.

At least this time, I had my entire arsenal with me--throwing knives, twin daggers, delyn cable, drakescale corset hidden underneath my black long-sleeved dress shirt, and silent butterfly knife. So I had that going for me, which is nice.

I reclined against the vines again, brought one leg over the other to try and find a way to look deceptively bad-ass to my eventual visitor, and started to feel really bored. I pulled out my butterfly knife and started playing with it. With each flick, the green lantern light sparkled off it in new and interesting patterns.

All I had to do now was wait.

[Enigmatic Immortal]

Jensen had told the Ai’bron monk of the Citadel that he wanted to get back to his roots. He needed to get in touch with his past self, that anarchic, foul mouthed, walking engine of death he used to be before Sei Orlouge got involved in his life. He wanted to feel the stones of his foundations again, to see his prowess and how well it could hold in the trials to come in the future.

This however was not what he meant.

He had walked in complete darkness, tripping, stumbling, bumbling; Jensen had done it all as he moved silently towards the source of witchlight at the end of…whatever the hell he was on. He chose willingly to not explore past the few feet to each side of him until he could see exactly what the hell it was the arena he had fallen into. All he could feel was plant like hardiness, cold stone, and chills to his bones. There was not much to hear save his occasional falls and shifting of roots as he collapsed. He would chastise himself as he stood back up, eyes narrowing towards the light. It had to eventually get closer he thought dismally.

So it was he took a rather long time crossing the gap between him and the light, but on the very outskirts of his range of vision he could start to see his breaths form like the exhale of a dragon. He could finally make out the vine laden path before him, carefully stepping aged leather boot to stone in a pattern until he was about thirty feet from his opponent. He eyed her, looking up at the throne of earth she sat upon, leg draped lazily over the other in a carefree manner. In a sense, Jensen admired that smug demeanor. That right there was the reason he was in the Citadel: to get back in touch with that incarnation of his soul.

He said nothing, slowly moving ahead, one hand drooping to his gunblade and twirling it out, aiming it at her head. With a flick of the runic switch, a metal chord pulling taught echoed in the cavern, the slick shrill of oiled steel being unsheathed ringing in the air. The blade was held at her chest, and with a flick of his wrist the weapon was back upon his belt, other hand casually dancing along his chest touching the pommels of each of his throwing daggers. He looped one finger into his three iron throwing glaives, the triangular shaped weapons weaving between fingers like golden coin. Deftly he plucked each one back into his holster, walking sideways as if he was tip-toeing through a field of tulips. Using the wind around him he pushed a rush at his feet, blowing dried roots aside and fanning his weighted coat out, exposing the heavy war maul Crozius. He twirled back to face her, now merely twenty feet was all that crossed between them. He pulled out the Zodiac weapon Cancer’s Pincer balancing the blade upon his fingers and letting it fall to the ground like the pendulum of a clock, the sword switching to scythe mode with the practiced ease of a veteran of combat.

He moved swiftly the last few steps, jumping forwards and landing in a crouch, looking up at the queen of this abysmal cavern, a shallow, mocking bow as he slowly drew his neck upwards to look her in the eye.

Cocky grin and all he waited for her to make the first move. He would rise if she shifted, prepared to defend, but deep down hidden with the fabric of his psyche, Jensen thought one thing only as he got back in tune with his childish mentality he once had a few short years ago. It felt silly, even to him, but it also felt like a dormant part of his body was waking up, adrenaline starting to slowly filter around his body making his nerves tingle with anticipation. He was ready, and despite it all, the only thing on his mind was,

I really hope she thinks that looked cool…

(Good morning, Andy. Happy hunting! : D

If the bunnying of you watching me approach and doing nothing is not acceptable, please let me know so edits can be made. I also hearby give you all rights and permissions to not only bunny, but in some cases Control Jensen's actions and words for the sake of flow. )

[BlackAndBlueEyes]

((Same goes for you, Paul. Here's the official all bunnies approved notice. Let's do this.))

As the tall man with the long coat approached, he performed some sort of perverse... Dare I call it a mating dance? Because I haven't yet seen such a boastful yet well-choreographed display from a bloodthirsty warrior looking to end the life of a complete and total stranger. With each flick of a wrist, odd step, and acrobatic flourish, I felt a grin involuntarily form on my face--small, at first; nothing more than a crack. But as he drew closer, it grew ever wider.

That's not to say I wasn't keeping my eye on his every movement, allowing myself to get distracted. Thanks to his rather unique introduction, I was able to make mental notes of all the sharp and blunt things I would have to be on the lookout for. That maul in particular looked like it could ruin my afternoon with a good swing or two.

With a grand leap, the man's display game to a end with a bow ten feet away from me. Our eyes met in the darkened cave, and we both sat there like a couple of grinning fools. I brought my leg down and leaned forward on my throne.

"That was kinda cute," I said with a smirk. I casually motioned with a vine-tangled hand at the weapon he gripped tightly in hand. "Love the sword scythe thing, by the way. I've always been fascinated with switch weapons."

I pushed myself off the cold, vine-wrapped stone seat and quickly did some calculations. My opponent was the perfect distance away from me to employ my wires quickly and accurately. I commanded the ends of my telepathic toy to inch their way towards the opening of my shirt sleeves as I threw my arms outward.

My smile quickly turned into something more malevolent. "Name's Madison Freebird. It's a pleasure to meet you."

A thought passed through my mind, and the ends of my delyn cable shot like lightning out from underneath my black shirt sleeves. They immediately doubled back behind me, lashing themselves around the hilts of my twin daggers and pulling from their leather sheathes. I sprung backwards and onto the earthen throne, careful not to slip on the vines, ready to jump up and over to relative safety in case the man in the jacket decided to rush forward. With another thought, I sent the two daggers flying--the left one was on a direct path towards my opponent, in an effort to drive him backwards from his crouching position. The right dagger was flying outwards over the edge of the bridge and the sharpened points of the stalagmites below.

I redirected the second dagger's path mid-flight; rather than aim it at the same spot as the first, it would curve back around and travel further on back along the bridge in hopes that the brown-haired man would be too preoccupied with my frontal assault to notice it embed itself into his sides.

[Enigmatic Immortal]

“Well now,” Jensen mused looking to the newest assets of his opponent. “I do think I’ve read enough adult comics to know where this is going…” He observed the whip like motions of her tentacles, ears twitching and catching the shriek of metal being drawn out. His eyes followed the snapping motion as weapons were loosed with deadly accuracy. He laughed riotously, exploding in his enthusiasm as he danced his hands upwards to his chest picking out a throwing dagger.

He zoned in on the first blade, narrowing his sights upon the weapon as he processed in his mind the logical conclusion of the path of flight. He plucked the iron out of its housing, flipping it blade first between his middle and index finger counting to three silently in his head. Upon the final count he let loose his weapon with a horizontal flick of his wrist, casually releasing the missile into the air. Weapon struck weapon, sparks illuminating the darkened field between them. Jensen grinned maliciously as he prepared to move.

His laughter piped into a yelp of pain, surprise catching him off guard as he tripped in his first step. He stood quickly in a defensive position, the switch blade sword Cancer’s Pincer in a reverse grip covering his chest. He took a peak down to see a blade lodged expertly into his side, about half down the blade in his flesh. He grimaced pulling the steel out; an annoying wound to have, but not one that would cripple him. He looked back to Madison Freebird and licked his lips.

With bursting enthusiasm the immortal lurched forwards, slowly at first as he danced again and building in speed with every additional movement. Twirling in time with his hands he released one weapon after the other, metal whistling in the breeze. Each time he tossed a throwing dagger or glaive, another was in his hand and let loose, mere seconds apart from one another. He was mindful of the pain in his side, showing a bit of favoritism to cradle that injury as he whooped with glee.

Every blade was designed to be mere inches off the target, each one creating another haunting silhouette of the woman before him created by metal and wrath. Jensen pulled up last the Zodiac Weapon, letting the blade swap into Scythe mode and chucking it wide past Madison. Then, in the blink of an eye he sprinted forwards. He let the wind rush through his hair, like fingers gently running through his locks in a lover’s manner. He let the wind catch him up as he rushed towards the throne, a mirthful wail of madness echoing in the dark cavern. When he was a few steps away from his prey he pulled back on the wind, letting the breeze shift abruptly as he willed it to bring back his boomerang like scythe to him for a decapitating blow.

“Don’t lose your head, dear,” Jensen giggled in intimate proximity, bringing a knee up for her gut.

(Jensen tossed a total of like…6 throwing weapons at you. Keep your cool, though, each one is a bit off the mark to keep you locked in place. ((In theory…)) Each weapon is only dagger sized or smaller, but please remember the throwing Glaives are triangular in shape, and will tear when caught. ((Ask Seth Dahlios, he nearly lost a finger.)) The intent is to lock you down and hit you in the gut with the knee, then catch the Zodiac Weapon and behead you. :D Yay! )