Summer'04 TOA Finals - psychosyd v fragdemon v OceanEyes28

[LocoColt04]

Okay kids, here's the deal.

Screw the rules. All of them. (Except for no godmodding. That's evil.) I want the three of you to go out there and post like there's no pressure. There are no extra rules. There's nothing fancy here. It's just a nice little free-for-all with no pressure. Got it? I want this round to mean something for you three.

As far as Alisyn is concerned, she will be without computer access for a little while longer. The fight will start with just the two of you, and she'll have to figure out how to write her way into it herself. Make use of this, boys. Put on a really good show.

The finals will end the weekend of August 21-22. One of those days. I can't promise you which one. The final judgement will be posted soon after. Now, that's almost a month, so I don't wanna hear complaints about time. We all have things to do, like James, who has to move once more when college arrives. You three are clever. You'll figure it out.

I'm giving you the basic intro, bringing both Sylius and Darius into the fight myself. I'm leaving it up to the two of you to add both detail and character thoughts into your pseudo-intros. I'd also like to see some fighting right off the bat, especially since the both of you are, well... you'll see. Cool? Great. Go have fun, and give us something entertaining.

=======


Center stage. Silence.

The castle was off-limits to the public. A slight murmuring could be heard outside the walls, but Vincent paid no attention to it. He looked across to the northeast tower, where Lex as perched upon the inner edge. It was a formidable distance between the two of them, but the view of the floor below was perfect. Vincent rocked back and forth impatiently on his heels while he awaited the arrival of the fighters. He felt a cool breeze directly behind him, coming from the southwest. He sat down on the inner edge of his platform, dangling his feet above the distant ground.

The breeze was soft from where the judges sat, but the enclosed area below amplified the wind. A lone bail of hay rolled a few inches, settling itself upon a flatter side. Loose straw from the bail floated toward the northeast corner of the arena-to-be, landing near two wooden benches in the corner.

Silhouettes appeared in both the northern and western entrances. Lex whistled to catch Vincent's attention, and the two focused on the figures below. Sylius stepped forth first, from the western doorway. He gazed about the empty space, taking note of the hay and the benches. A running fountain was to his right, a few meters from the southern wall. The only other thing to be seen was dirt and a couple of mud puddles near the middle. He looked up at Vincent, who motioned toward the northern door.

Darius now made his presence known. He too absorbed his surroundings, readying himself for the intense fight to come. The two of them acknowledged each other and watched the eastern and southern doors, awaiting the arrival of Alex.

Nearly five minutes passed, and the men grew tired of waiting. Vincent looked across at Lex, who merely shrugged at the absence of the remaining fighter. Both judges looked down at the fighters. Sylius was now sitting at the edge of the fountain, admiring the sculptor's attention to detail. Darius had taken a seat upon one of the benches, picking apart a piece of straw to pass the time. Vincent nodded at Lex, who began to speak.

"It seems as though we have a late arrival. You gentlemen are free to start if you wish to do so."

Darius and Sylius approached each other uneasily. Less than a meter apart, Darius extended his hand. Sylius returned the gesture, shaking hands with his competitor. Vincent now stood as well, commanding the start of the fight.

The judges sat back down, and the competitors each stepped back five paces before turning.

[psychosyd]

(OOC: I hate the intro post... it always just sucks cuz its so awkward... Frag post soon so we can get into the meat of this)

They had failed to show up... once again the elf felt nothing in his mouth but the bitter taste of dissapointment, and even utter humiliation. It was offensive to have come this far meerly by technicallity while all his opponents have done nothing but cower in the shadows. After waiting for an entire day on the tower, the only contact Sylius had was a single, unfortunate guard who delivered the bad news. That same guard now lay facedown in a pool of his own blood on the tower with 2 huge katar sized holes in his chest.

How dare they... how DARE they.

Such acts would not go unnoticed... and following the tournament Sylius made a promise to hunt them all down and let them learn the price for cowerdice.

Instead of returning to his apartment however, Sylius immediatly went to the front desk, where the same receptionist that greeted him looked up with sudden concern, and began to cower at the sight of the raging elf.

"I... I...I.... " was all he could stammer before being lifted out of his chair, knocking over the desk in front of him with a crash, papers flying everywhere. Holding the man up with one arm, he shoved him roughly against the wall behind, holding a small knife to his throat. His voice was very quiet, but carried a very dangerous edge to it, and made the receptionists blood run cold.

"You better explain yourself." the elf said, his voice dripping with anger.

"Sir... please... do not kill me, I had nothing to do with it... both your opponents are not to be found anywhere. I assure you this will not happen again in the finals. I know Darius will be present for sure, we verified it only momments ago." The man stammered, sweat dripping down his pale forehead as he looked frantically around for some sort of hope.

Sneering Sylius threw the man down to the ground and returned to his apartment without another word, leaving only a dark memory and a sobbing fat man in his wake.

The day of the finals, Sylius was awoken to a knock at the door, and opening it, the smell of steel told it was a guard.

"Sir, I am here to escort you to the center arena of the castle for the final match. It will be a free for all, no enguagement rules at all, against 2 other opponents. You will start off by facing Darius, and the third will join in after the match has started."

Dressing in his wargear once more, sans the cloak, Sylius followed the guard to the castle and into the southern passage. It was here he was told to wait until further notice, and he found himself alone. For the space of an hour or so, all Sylius could do was pace back and forth in the stone corridor, until a sudden creak told him the door behind him was opening up, and the chill breeze blew into the hall, bringing the smell of blood, hay and dust with it.

Sylius' heart beat slightly faster in anticipation, finally a challenge, finally an opponent to test his abilities against. Walking into the arena, he took a momment to take in his surroundings. He stood, arms out, taking in the very air around him. He could feel the energy of the crowds that surrounded the castle, and the anticipation to find out who would emerge the champion of this very tournament. Across the way, he could hear the footsteps of Darius, and approached him for a hand shake.

"So your Sylius eh? I've heard some interesting things about you, I will enjoy this match greatly" Darius said.

"Indeed, let us not delay then, I have waited long enough" Sylius returned, trying to keep his own voice neutral, as to not lead his opponent any way. Turning, he took 5 paces away from Darius, as was proper in a duel, and then stopped. He reached slowly down to his sides to grasp the leather wrapped hilt of his katars.

Well now Darius... lets see what your made of...

With a scream to Isha on his lips, Sylius drew his katars out of their scheates and turned toward Darius. He broke into a run as he raised one katar over his head, and slashed it downwards toward Darius neck.

[fragdemon]

((OOC: Prepare for the super long intro. Watch what happens when a man has to cram two! (Yes, dear audience, I said TWO!) intros worth of plot resolution and one battle post into ONLY ONE POST! 2600 estimated words will be crammed into only 1600. AMAZING!

Prepare to be amazed! Mystified! And hopefully even ENTERTAINED! As the "Amazing Frag" POSTS HIS INTRO!

Anyways, my dialogue bit with Sylius (from Syd's post) seemed mildly out of character. I changed what I said to better reflect Darius' way of speaking (especially when he's trying to be polite) without actually changing the content of what he said. I know Loco told me before that people can't edit after the opponent posted, but this is to keep a character in character.

Sorry it took so long, my wrist has been hurting like a bitch these last few days, so I've only been writing for short periods of time (even this intro is hurting, today is worse than the others).

Thanks for your patience.))


“How’re you feeling?”

“Like shit.”

“You’ll get used to it.”

“To dying? I don’t think so.”

“I have.”
__________

“How’s Darius doing?”

“Good.”

“Is he coming tonight?”

“No.”
__________

John Jour couldn’t sleep.

The pain was minimal, but the knowledge it would get worse was something that kept him awake.

Another thought that kept him awake was the town of Valencia itself. He remembered looking forward to this tournament and the effect it would have on Valencia’s economy. There were many people who had been given jobs due to the tournament, and hundreds of people came from around the world with money to spend.

He looked forward to that, but he never considered the gamblers who came to their city.

John had worked for an earlier tournament before he moved to Valencia. He left too soon to understand what he saw now, that the tournament brought both good and bad to the town.

The problem was, only the good could afford to leave. Many of the gamblers would stay in Valencia until the next tournament. Those who suffered major losses would stay even longer.

New money would be pumped into the economy, but now Mr. Jour had to share this money with the new scum, people who expected a day’s pay for no work at all. With people who would murder a man because they were denied their ill gotten money.

The thoughts of his son and wife also kept him up. A long time ago, their only problem was poverty. Their new worries lay in the new community itself.

His other worry was Darius. With only two weeks left before the next match, he had disappeared. Tom was also worried, but he didn’t know. All Tom knew was that he wasn’t allowed to see his good friend.

John thought about their last conversation. In the last few hours, Darius’ final words took on a new meaning. John mulled over the riddle in them. Did the druid suggest that he himself was dying?
__________

Darius smiled.

His stalker was close. He could smell the mistletoe.

The man had been stalking him ever since he left Valencia, through the rotten mulch and into the living forest. It was here that the stalker would have an advantage.

Even then, Darius knew he could defeat the stalker. No man or woman of the Disea had ever matched up to his skill as a druid. Although his ability to tap into those druidic powers was all but gone, Darius still knew the weaknesses of the Disean magic.

The stalker was even closer; Darius could pick out the individual scents of different herbs now. But he still couldn’t pick out a location. The stalker was too quiet.

Darius smiled to himself and began sprinting. It was sudden, and there was no way his stalker could prepare for it. The only way the stalker could keep up would be running along with his mark.

The former druid remembered the Disean thoughts on stalking. When the younger students were taught, the mark would always be referred to as the prey, while the stalker was always referred to as the hunter. Darius wondered if the stalker thought that way. It would be rather ironic.

As the stalker gained on his prey, the prey began hearing his travel through the bushes. The prey began acting accordingly, slowing down as suddenly as it started. Then, the prey attacked.

In ten seconds, the fight was over, and Darius had his opponent pinned to a tree. The prey had won out over the hunter.

“You were hunting me.”

It was stating the obvious, Darius knew. But it was also a psychological tactic. The hunter frowned to herself.

“Apparently, I didn’t do very well.”

“You didn’t.”

The hunter’s scythe, poorly used in the short confrontation, lay at Darius’ feet.

“Would you suggest any improvements?”

“Yes: Don’t hunt a man stronger than you. You know that nature won’t allow you to succeed.”

“I’ve seen a deer beat a fox.”

“The deer was stronger, then.”

“Right.”

Darius released with his left hand, reaching down towards the druid’s spell pouch, removing it from her waist.

“My mistletoe had been running low. It’s good that you came.”

“Can you use it?”

“A bit.”

The two stayed silent after that. Darius stared at the young druidess, burning her defeat into her mind. Finally, she broke the silence, unable to cope with it.

“Will you kill me?”

“No. I need your help.”
__________

Mr. Jour frowned to himself. Darius had been gone for over a week, but here he was returning, this time with a young girl.

As they entered, Mr. Jour realized she was a druid. Her furs weren’t the same as Darius’, but they were similar in the fact that they all were from different regions.

“A friend?”

“She was trying to kill me, actually.”

“What then?”

“A healer.”

Mr. Jour smiled.
__________

“How’s he doing?”

“Your friend?”

“Yes.”

“Much better.”

“Good.”

“What now?”

“You return to the Disea.”

“I’ll tell them where you are.”

“You can. Tell them I’d like to atone as well.”

“You’ve sent that message before.”

“Remind them.”

“Fine.”

The druidess left, stripped of spell pouch and weapon. As he watched her leave, Darius lifted the scythe and waved it around. It felt nice. Perhaps he would teach himself to use it.

It could double as a walking stick.
__________

“Darius?”

“Yes, Tom?”

It was nighttime. It was the second night in a row that Tom left the house.

“Did you ever have a pet?”

“Numerous pets.”

“Any like Fluffy?”

“I had a wolf once.”

“A wolf?”

“A big dog with fluffy hair.”

“Sounds pretty.”

“It was.”

At first, Darius had been worried that Tom left the house. But it felt nice to have the boy around. Something inside the druid felt that his actions were selfish in a way. He was jeopardizing the boy’s life for a few moments of company. But he pushed those thoughts aside.
__________

“Your son should have another dog.”

“Did he tell you that last night?”

Darius winced, preparing himself for the onslaught of angry words. But they never came.

After a few moments, Darius faced his good friend to see that he was smiling.

“You aren’t angry?”

“Worried. But it’s safer at night than it is at day.”

“But you aren’t angry?”

“For a moment I was. But the boy doesn’t have many friends.”

“He should make some.”

“He will. The town’s going to have a school soon.”

“A school?”

“A university for young children.”

“Children get educated so young?”

“The rich do. But we can’t afford tutors.”

“Great.”
__________

Darius was fully armed. His sickle was polished to be presentable, and he had a nice bath earlier that morning. He would walk into his final battle looking his best.

He looked at himself in the mirror. The thin white fur of his shirt seemed to glow in the morning light, as it was washed only yesterday. The thick leather of his pants was rid of all its dirt splotches so it showed only one constant shade of reddish brown all over.

His white hair, uncut since he arrived at Valencia, was reaching down to his neck, but it was neatly combed backwards so none of it fell onto his face.

In the mirror, Darius could see John Jour over his shoulder.

“How do I look, John?”

“Great.”

“How do you feel?”

“Even better. Haven’t felt this good in a while.”

“You’ll get used to it.”
___________

As Darius walked towards Northface, he checked his equipment. His new spellpouch was tied on right in front of the right hip bone. Further to Darius’ right, on his side, was his sickle. Both were fastened as securely as necessary without hindering Darius’ use.

He was always prepared.
__________

"It seems as though we have a late arrival. You gentlemen are free to start if you wish to do so."

As Darius put down his piece of straw, he wondered what etiquette would be necessary in this battle. After some thought, he thought a handshake would do, something that could fit in both a formal or familiar situation.

“So you’re Sylius? I have heard some interesting things about you. It’s a pleasure to be fighting against you.”

“Indeed, let us not delay then, I have waited long enough”

Darius smiled inwardly. His opponent was a warrior, no more. There would be no more ridiculous rules of etiquette from this point on.

Sylius walked away only a short distance, but Darius didn’t note the fact that he walked exactly 5 steps, assuming it was insignificant. Darius himself walked away briskly towards the bench he sat on moments before, practically reaching it before he heard Sylius’ battle cry.

Damn.

Darius broke into a sprint and finally finished his route to the bench, leaping over it.

As he pushed his left leg forward and slid his right leg back in a quarter circle, Darius drew his sickle, calculating the distance his opponent would have to run before he reached him.

With a quick glance, Darius noted that the bench wasn’t nailed into the ground, estimating its weight as Sylius charged even closer.

When Sylius was only fifteen steps away, Darius leaned forward, putting all of his weight onto his front left foot as he scooped his two arms under the bench, his left one wielding the sickle. He hurled the bench forward, springing with his left leg as he swung his arms for more power.

The full bench flew towards Sylius, acting as both a temporary barrier and weapon hurtling towards his midsection.

Darius slammed down his right foot as he took a new stance, one where his right foot was in the front. His sickle was in his left hand towards the waist.

If Sylius managed to evade the bench, Darius was in a defensive position. If the bench did in fact knock the warrior back, Darius would have to charge up, although it would take a moment longer.

Either way, Darius was prepared.

I can’t lose.

[psychosyd]

(OOC: Extensive post... time to start actually meshing things together now, the formalities out of the way, lets cut each other to ribbons, but not literally of course)

"The man will be blind for the rest of his life" The elven doctors told Eltharion as they looked upon the wounded warrior with worry. Despite the best efforts of the best healers and sorcerers in Saphery, the wounds Sylius had endured remained.

"What a curse, not only is his body physically broken, I can sense his soul is damaged as well. A fire burns within him, torment and agony eating at his very essance like a leech. He is a danger even to himself." Eltharion commented silently, looking over his formal pupil.

The broken body had been found only a few weeks before on the northern shore in Wayreth. Somehow Sylius had escaped the dark torments of the Drow caves and had survived to this point. Totally drained and unable to push himself further, he was saved by a passing patrol, and immediatly taken to the tower for treatment. Only under the wise eye of Eltharion was life even possible. Even then, waking to find one could never again see the world around is a wound in itself. Weeks passed in utter darkness as Sylius lay in agony at the loss of his very existance. Slowly however, he learned to use his other senses to help see his surroundings. As he honed in on these skills, he soon found that he could "sense" things that were to come, momentary flashes of what was around, or what was to come.

As Sylius left the tower to find himself once more, off to the TOA in Valencia, Eltharion looked at the elf as he dissapeared into the distance

He goes off to his salvation, or his destruction. Though the war with his physical body is over, the war within is just beginning
---------------------------------------------------

Due to their extensive training, the swordmasters of Hoeth bore a name that many people feared. On the field of battle, those who were unfortunate enough to be in their wake as they charged, soon found there was very little that could stop them.

Unfortunatly for Sylius, flying benches seemed to be one of those things.

He heard Darius break into a sprint... towards the edge of the arena instead of facing his enemy head on.

He's running... why? was all Sylius could think as his origional attack struck only thin air. He knew Darius had not changed his course, but continued to run straight ahead... roughly 15 feet ahead. He could hear the sound of an object being lifted, and as Darius slid to a stop. He heard the release and a large object flying through the air towards Sylius. The flash of a bench flew through Sylius senses as his second "sight" adapted to the recent events. Without a second thought, Sylius waited for the bench to be within arms reach before slashing downward with his katars. The blades easily pierced into the thick wood and sliced downwards a good few inches. Using the leverage, as well as his mommentum, Sylius vaulted into the air and performed a graceful flip as he cleared the obstacle and yanked his blades free in the process. Landing on his feet like a cat, he just went right back into his attack, as if nothing had happened. Closing the distance between them he quickly launched into an attack. His first slash met the edge of a scythe with suprising force, his second the butt end of the same weapon. Rebounding he tried to attack Darius side, but a quickly turned weapon easily broke that attack pattern. Twisting his scythe around, he easily blocked Sylius' attacks and even returned his own.

Blast...

Taking a few steps back, Sylius tried a new approach. Extending his arms out, the blades pointed in opposite directions Sylius crouched and focused his energy.

Aurabolt!

Flipping his blades backwards, they latched onto the back of Sylius ghauntlets. His palms now free, he extended his arms outward away from his body, then, moving them in a semi-circle, brought them together in a prayer formation. Bowing his head he extends his arms out in front of him, bringing his palms together, slowly curling his hands, then bringing them low to his side, where a white ball of energy forms in his hands. With a cry, he points his hands straight at Darius, while a white hot beam of energy lances out, cutting through the air. Crackling with energy, the ground beneith it bends a bit as the powerful beam sends out a slight shockwave of energy.

[LocoColt04]

((OOC: Ignore me. I'm just spreading news.))

fragdemon has returned. He's told me of his situation. We all have things to do in real life, and that's understandable. Now, normally I wouldn't extend the deadline on a thread, but... since this is the final, and we're in no hurry (November's a long way off), I thought I'd go ahead and give us some more time here.

I haven't consulted Spike, but I know he wouldn't mind, and I know this makes Psychosyd a happy camper, so I'm extending the deadline to 05 September 2004. It's a Sunday, and that generally works. So that gives you an extra two weeks or so on top of the remaining week. Thank you, and have a nice day.

Exuent the Colt.

[fragdemon]

((OOC: It’s a sickle, not a scythe. You can look it up on google or you can just imagine the flag of Communist Russia (that curvy thing that crosses the hammer is the sickle). I’m sorry I took so long. By the time I got word installed, I had to start focusing on school work and stuff. Let’s hope we can get a bit more in before my trip (27th) ))


He’s too quick. Too graceful.

Darius had trouble keeping up with the movements of his opponent. Although he managed to block Sylius’ attacks, Darius knew that his opponent had spun around in a full circle a hair slower than Darius moved his blade three inches in a tight arc.

With a twist, he managed to manipulate Sylius’ weapons with his own, but even then he withdrew without difficulty.

Darius knew he was outclassed in terms of technique. But his battle experience and knowledge of overall tactics might give him an edge.

As Sylius withdrew, Darius felt more confident. Both the katar and the sickle were relatively small, so from a tactical standpoint, both warriors would have been better off close together. As Darius only had one weapon to Sylius’ two, he knew that if the warrior moved in close, he could attack from two sides.

But apparently, Sylius himself didn’t realize it. Either that, or he had some other trick up his sleeve.

To Darius’ dismay, the latter was true.

The old druid had seen many magical attacks during his lifetime. The white glow suggested that it was a concentration of pure energy, like a mobile star. It would definitely light cloth on fire. Even worse, it could cook a man’s flesh.

Of all Darius’ multiple options, an evasive one would be the best.

As Darius charged right, Sylius let the ball fly. It moved much quicker than Darius expected, as if it was shot from some cannon. Darius himself wasn’t fast enough to avoid it completely.

Even as he twisted his torso away from the path of the ball, Darius knew he would be hit. The ball brushed his left arm, tearing past it until it slammed against the wall, transferring all of its heat in a bright flash of light.

The furs on Darius’ shirt caught fire, but he quickly clamped his arm over it to smother the flames, only a small circle was burned out of his sleeve. Even while he avoided having his shirt set ablaze, Darius knew his flesh wasn’t so lucky. When he slammed his palm to his bicep to smother the fire, Darius cried solely from the feel of the pressure on his burned skin. It was all he could do to avoid letting his sickle drop from his left hand.

While Darius would have liked to stop and nurse his wound, he knew he had to move on.

For all warriors, the toughest aspect of combat wasn’t having good technique. Rather, the core skill that would tip the scales on an even fight was the ability to maintain one’s composure even under great pain. Many younger fresher warriors who could perform complex maneuvers couldn’t even take a single swing after they received their first wound.

Pushing the thoughts of his pain aside, Darius charged at Sylius.

The warrior was crouched on the ground, blades pointed backwards and arms opened wide. If Darius took any time, he would return to a defensive position or at least stand so he could evade attacks better.

So Darius just charged.

When Darius was two steps away, Darius kicked both legs out. If all went as planned, Darius would kick the unprepared warrior in the face or upper chest with the full weight of his body. At worst, Darius would find himself on the floor, but he was already considering his options in case that happened.

As Darius felt himself tip backwards, he had one comforting thought:

No matter how fast this elf moves, I can think just as quickly.


((OOC: Just an apology about how long this took. I mean, I was busy, but I did have free time. But I used it to play video games, something that just really isn't fair to all of you guys who are waiting on me.))

[psychosyd]

(Wow, you learn something every day, I honestly did not know of a difference between the 2. Im also very ignorant, I suppose that would explain it)

Sylius' arms and hands burned from the discharge of holy energy. Though he had been trained in the arts of the high magiks, he took a darker path in life and such practices were technically forbidden. Then again... what was he to follow the rules? Such powers came at a price, one he was willing to pay from time to time.

Though, too many more of those and I won't last the duration of this match He thought to himself warily. Breathing deeply, he let the spasms of pain subside and his body slowly relax. He flexed his fingers, and as the burning subsided he could feel that he was in control once more.

Darius was showing to be quite a tactician, his experience displayed in how he moved his body in response to Sylius' own assultss. He was not as quick, but he delivered with great strength and was able to read and react to whatever Sylius could muster. It seemed Darius had seen his fare share of battle as well...

A worthy challenge at last.

As his beam flew towards Darius, all Sylius could do was grab his blades and wait, unable to see the flow of battle. Hearing the explosion on the outer wall, a wave of heat flew back into the owners face. His attack had hit where it intended, now the question was if Darius had been in the path of explosion. Sylius had learned long ago to never underestimate his opponents, and not being able to see the actual target, he had to be twice as careful.

He could smell burning fibers, and burnt flesh... he had connected with his target, that was certain. The aromas of death gave him a sense of extasy, it was good to be on the battlefield again. Darius had been hit.

But wait... he's moving again, his footsteps are now to the right of where I attacked... it appears he was able to clear himself out of the way, if not just in time. It was hard to admit, but that boy was quick.

In fact, Darius was already on his own charge, having seemed to overcome whatever injurys he sustained in battle, another sign of experience. The distance between them began to shorten, perhaps he was hoping to counter before Sylius could react.

"Bah, im blind, not deaf!" Sylius shouted in return, lowering his katars in prepration for the match-up, but it never came... the footsteps stopped just as Darius was within arms reach, and had lept into the air.

Shit

Sylius only had a momment to lean backwards and raise his katars in defense before Darius' legs drove straight into his chest. With a cry he was driven off of his feet into the air, and then hitting the ground with a crash. Skidding a short distance, stars flashed across his sightless eyes as the breath was taken from his body. Dust stirred up around his body, invading his mouth and nostrils, and his katars fell from his grasp. His mail had absorbed enough of the blow to prevent any major damage, but blast, it still hurt. Coughing, he slowly got to his knees, and heard Darius own breating a distance away.

"Well fine, if you want to dance.." Sylius said under his breath as he regained his breath. A warrior was expected to take a hit from time to time, but extensive training tought them how to recover quickly. He picked up his katars, and took a momment to assess the situation. Placing one Katar into its scheathe at his side, he reached down to his right foot to grab the hilt of one of his daggers. Taking a deep breath, he began to run at Darius, making a counter attack while Darius was still recovering. Focusing his energy once more, he raised the small knife up into the air, then whipped it foreward towards Darius. The small blade whistled as it flew towards his target.

That was only round one however, quickly pulling his second katar free, he Focused the magik around him, and used it to push himself upwards. Sylius was pushed into the air, and landed to Darius right. Without a momments notice, he then pushed out energies behind him, which propelled Sylius towards Darius' flank. Sylius extended his arms, and then cut from both sides in a half circle at Darius' middle.

[fragdemon]

((OOC: In this one I mention Mandrake. You can find it at wikipedia at this link:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mandrake_(plant)
There it says that the root shrieks in pain from leaving the soil, but when I read about mandrake, it said differently.))


Darius wasn’t twisted.

Still, it was impossible for him to connect with a blow and not feel to some extent an exhilarating thrill. If Darius had grown among the civilized, he might have learned to doubt such thrills. But living with the rough druids taught him that all joy was nature’s method of guiding man, too intelligent to simply act, towards his instincts.

The thrill Darius felt was the feeling that he may survive this fight. Even better, he would return from the fight still capable of living. If he was lucky enough, Darius might not sustain another injury for the rest of the fight, as long as he pushed his advantage well enough.

Having thrown himself off balance intentionally, Darius was completely prepared for the fall. Within an instant, Darius was springing back up from his attack. Perhaps he wasn’t quick enough to follow it up. especially considering the speed of his young opponent. But Darius knew he was at least quick enough to preempt any counterattacks from his fine opponent.

As Darius refocused his gaze, shifting into a defensive stance, he analyzed his opponent’s actions. His calculating mind also took into account the words of his opponent.

Blind. Not deaf.

When Darius heard about Sylius from John, he was told that the blind warrior used magic to replace his sight. Some supposed he sacrificed his sight to the devil in order to gain his battle tactics.

Regardless of its origin, Darius learned that his opponent’s second sight wasn’t wholly supernatural. To some degree, it was aided by, perhaps limited by, his hearing. Watching Sylius stand up, aligning himself with Darius without a glance, Darius wondered how he could take advantage of his opponent.

Leaping once apparently caught Sylius off guard. But after the first time, Darius doubted it would work again. Sylius’ ears were too sharp to rely on footsteps alone, a fact proved by the fact that he could stand up and face Darius even though neither of the warriors took a step.

He can hear my breathing at least. Maybe even the sound of my clothes on my skin. Maybe even my heartbeat.

As he observed Sylius charge, beginning nearly the same moment Darius stood up fully erect, Darius considered his many options. Even as he watched the warrior release a knife from his hand and moved to react, Darius analyzed his opponent’s motions.

Perhaps trying to be quiet won’t work at all. Darius thought to himself as he spun past his opponent.

If attempting to make no sound is futile, what if I work the other way.

Observing the knife pass him, Darius realized that a loud sound may have the same affect on his opponent that a bright light would have on a human.

As Sylius took to the air, Darius tried considering the amount of mandrake he had.

Mandrake was a valuable herb, valued by a variety of used from well-trained medics to marketplace witches to the most learned wizards. Some believed that ,mandrake root would make a horrible shriek when hitting the sunlight, recoiling from the pain of the harsh heat as it died. But those fools didn’t understand that plants don’t have feelings. Even the most off beat druid, ones who felt they identified with plants (none of the animal revering Disean order, of course), knew that. Rather, mandrake shrieked due to spells concocted by the druids that owned them. Those who died by mandrake didn’t understand that they were touching a plant claimed by a very powerful druid.

Darius had powdered mandrake root in his spell pouch as an important catalyst for many of his spells. But at this moment, he needed to make use of its intrinsic properties.

Darius was stronger than most druids, and he was sure that he could make lethal mandrake just like those in the Disean council. But Darius didn’t have the time to do so. That he was working with already prepared mandrake made it even more difficult, as the mandrake’s howl required for most druids that the mandrake be in its natural state.

Darius muttered the required incantations as he twisted away from the dual slash, ignoring the fact that it nearly killed him, making a clean slice across his side through his skin. As the blood slid out of the narrow slit in his skin, Darius realized without acknowledging that he would faint within five minutes if the wound continued bleeding.

But the druid knew that most face-to-face fights ended within two minutes. At worst the fight would last a third minute, but Darius was sure he could last long enough.

Darius withdrew a fistful of powdered mandragora from his pouch as he neared the last words of his incantation. Hurling it into the air as he leaped back, Darius uttered the last words.

Darius tried planning his next move, but his thoughts were interrupted by the shrieking of twenty man chorus ((OOC: not as loud as a gunshot, but pretty damn loud. But just as disorienting as it lasts a bit longer.)). Unfortunately for Darius, the left over powder in his own pouch acted like a small quartet, but the pain was surely less than the pain of a man with powder floating in front of his face. A man with excellent hearing no less.

Darius smiled as he stumbled backwards, too dizzy to truly regain his footing, too focused to fully lose his balance.

The howling chorus echoed throughout the room, assaulting Darius’ eardrums and clawing it apart. The noise shredded through the very air that carried it, tearing through Darius’ intense focus in a howl that lasted for a mere second.

The powder fell to the ground silently.


((OOC: I'm good. Better than good. Anyways, I'll be leaving for Hawaii later on today, so I may not respond very quickly (not that I have been responding quickly anyways). I'll have loads of free time there to actually write a post, but I won't have much internet time to actually make the post and read Syd's post. So just post as normal, but don't expect me to respond within a week.))

[psychosyd]

(OOC: Very good post... )

Many times in battle did a warrior get to spill blood. With luck it was not his own of course, but some things were never certain. His dagger had missed Darius, probably to be expected, but he seemed disctracted, or focused on something else.

"Hes preparing his counter..." Sylius said as his blades began to near Darius dangerously unprotected body. "Only problem is he seems to be too late!"

Sylius blades bit deep into his opponents skin, who had managed to turn aside only in time to prevent a fatal thrust. The attack was awarded with blood, which stuck to both Sylius' blades and Darius clothes alike. Sylius knew it was a thin clean cut, but effective enough to do lethal damage if left unattended. The rather sweet smell wafted up across the battle field and into Sylius nostrils. It alighted a fire deep within his body, awakening a sense of battle frenzy. It was exhilarating, and it sense a tingle of orgasmic proportions through his body.

Deep within the souls of men, a more wild and untrained spirit resides, dormant unless the soul gives it life. When giving into these more uncontrollable emotions, a mans senses are expanded, his heart rate quickens and his strength is multiplied. It is the source for the libido, the drive, and the desire for power. Men can taste its power from time to time in mommentary surges, called the adrenaline Rush. Much like the lure of an erotic dancer, the Rush only gives a taste of what is possible... a promise of greater proportions that whet ones instinct and leaves a taste of fire in the mouth. Most however, are trained to supress this rather blase instinct as it is considered uncontrollable and even dangerous. The Norse warrios of Valenhalen, or the "Beserkers" as they are called by many, were known for their harnessing of this power in battle. As the smell of blood would fill their bodys, they would go into a blood frenzy, and lose control of their body. The only emotion they express is the desire to kill and fufill their deep yearning to increase the passionate flame within them. Such ways to fufill this desire would be used in raids, to maim, rape, plunder, and otherwise wreak total destruction on any in their path.

Eventually however, the body wears out, its drive broken, and the warriors are left totally drained, and given only vague memories of what had progressed.

Sylius could feel the adrenaline surging through his veins as the successful strike pushed him to the limit of total insanity. Only with a supreme effort was he able to suppress his inner emotions and remain in control of his own body. He was on edge however, the line was so thin, and he was standing on its very tip. The desire for blood was to great, he had to have more.

"It ends here!" He said, raising his blade as Darius was finishing the final portions to his spell. Smelling his target so close, he raised his blade to bring it down for the final strike. He was only momments away from his greatest victory.

Suddenly, a sudden piercing scream filled the air. Sylius dropped his blades and fell to his knees in pain as Darius spell took its course.

Mandrake... the druid has used mandrake! Sylius' searing brain could manage. Due to his lack of eyesight, Sylius' other senses were naturally strengthed, and the sharp cry of the mandrake, painful to a normal human, was intensified by 10 or even 100 fold. Sylius screamed in uncontrollable agony as he clutched his head, writhing on the ground. Though the actual sound lasted but a mere second, its after affect continued to ring in his head endlessly. As the spell faded, it had dealt its damage. All Sylius could hear was ringing, totally destroying his hearing. Consequently without it, he would be unable to make any sense of direction or location, a most dreadful handycap. The wise druid had known his plants well and utilized a most effective weapon.

"No! I will NOT be taken down Druid![/i] Sylius spat into the air, gritting his teeth and slowly getting to his feet. He wobbled dangerously as his sense of balance was also thrown out of wack.

What can I do now... I have no knowledge of Darius'... wait... an idea struck Sylius thoughts which quickly formed into hope. Though he could not gain a sense of Darius location through his hearing or sight, he had drawn blood rece