Jason uttered a heavy sigh toward his younger brother and reluctantly walked out the front door. Desperately needing to collect his thoughts, he headed into town to find some peace of mind, perhaps at the market. Twenty minutes and six long kilometers later, Jason arrived in the center of town, leaving his brother and his training behind. He noticed an odd figure wandering around the square and opted to keep his distance. A lovely young lady approached him.
"Jason! I thought you were training with your brother today..."
Jason looked the woman over but before he could say anything, he caught a glimpse of a scuffle and heard muffled screams. "Laurie, get down!" Jason shoved the woman to the ground and glanced up at the crime scene. A man, not much older than he, had been stabbed in the throat and left to die. Realizing the killer was nowhere in sight, Jason whirled around just in time to meet his maker...
- - -
Jason Michaels was stabbed three times in the chest. Five years ago to the day, Jason died, and Jax would never forgive himself for it. If only he had lightened up on Jason. If only he hadn't lost his temper. If only...
Jax rolled out of bed and shuffled to his closet, searching for his vest. No vest. Great. He slowly managed his way out the back door and upon noticing something crumpled near the door, he swiftly kicked the approaching dog. Stupid mutt. Stupid vest. Just great. Heading back inside, Jax grabbed his sewing kit from the table and sat down to stitch up the four inch gash along the seam of the left side.
- - -
Jax hesitated at the main entrance of the arena. I hate this place. Really, I do. He slowly opened the door and strolled toward the office in the back.
"How may I help you today sir?" The clerk seemed so calm, so oblivious to all of the violence and heartbreak her job brought forth.
"Jax Michaels. I'm here for this month's assignment."
"Ah yes, file 362. Follow the directions on the paper and you'll be fine."
Jax took the paper and checked it over. "Wait. There's no name, no description, no anything here. Just a location. What do you expect me to do with this?"
"Oh, that's why we saved it for you. We don't know anything about this one either. I was told to make sure you keep this one alive, like you do all the others, and knock some sense into him. I don't know what he did or why they want him, but they do."
Jax hesitated. "You know, I've always meant to ask you... who is 'they'?"
The clerk looked at him with a smile on her face and closed the window.
- - -
Jax walked into his bedroom and looked in his closet. Good, still there. Won't have to kick the dog this time. He put on his white leather vest and padded black pants and headed out into the main room. Shoes? The dog was curled up on the floor with a pair of black boots and a puddle of drool. "JASON!!" Jax was about to kick the dog but then opted not to. "You know, this is what I get for naming you Jason. Even from the grave, you..."
Jax collapsed onto the floor, tears in his eyes.
- - -
A breeze blew gently in the open field. Having collected himself, Jax walked up the hill and followed the stream toward the shore. Beach. Beach... I don't see any -- oh. The horizon broke and the ocean lay before him, only a mile away.
The ocean roared as a huge wave crashed down on the beach. Jax inhaled deeply and the scent of warm salt water drifted upward. He strolled slowly along the beach, awaiting the miscreant. Standing tall and aware, Jax turned a slow 360� and waited. His black boots were dusted with sand and his short blonde hair shifted slightly with every touch of the wind. Sensing something approaching, he withdrew his sword from his belt. Three and a half feet long, the blade was battered with nicks and little imperfections from years of use. He turned.
Psiko
Lightning flashes in the distance, followed shortly thereafter by a booming clap of thunder. The wind howls through the night sky, causing all the trees to bend under its might. Torrents of rain plummet to the ground, causing all the rivers and streams to flood as the rain falls relentlessly. For nearly a week this has gone on in the small village of Halberd, sending all its inhabitants into a hibernation. But who can blame those people for not wanting to face the wrath of nature? Nobody wants to expose themselves to the intense elements, especially not with winter being only a week away. But our tale does not begin in the small town of Halberd, but rather at an ancient castle found three miles from Halberd. Due to wild rumors of an ancient mystic, nobody has dared to approach the castle for many years. Countless stories have been told about the forbidden home, ranging from that of caniballistic zombies to fire-breathing dragons; from an area of eternal night to wild magic shields that strike down anyone who approaches. While most of these stories are mere tales thought up by people with wild imaginations, this story I shall tell thee is completely true, since it comes from my own hand...the sole inhabitant of this ancient, forsaken castle.
It is true that I have dabbled a bit in the bounds of Magic, and as a result of innocent mistakes people have died in unexplicable "accidents", such as having their skin melted from their bones, or having their insides turned inside-out. It is also true that I have, from time to time, conjured several small "pets" to keep me company, thus beginning those wild rumors of Zombies and Dragons. In all actuallity they are as harmless as a fly, but their looks are all the convincing needed for the villagers to determine that they are deadly beasts. It truly was quite a pity when I lost one of my favorite "pets" to the Riot of 1377, when they hunted my Griffon and burned him with boiling pitch. He never did a thing to harm them...his only crime was that of being different! Once I was through with them, though, it took three centuries to rebuild that village, and they had earned every year of it!
But I digress, and shall tell thee more about myself. I am thirteen thousand, two hundred and sixty five years old, and more than half of those years have been spent here in my isolated home. Of course, I do have the opportunity to entertain a random guest from time to time, but most people find that they prefer to avoid my castle like the plague! All because of a few imagined rumors and misunderstandings! You would think that after a few generations they would learn to forgive an old man such as myself, but those Humans are a very stubborn race.
Although I can alter my appearance to be anything I desire, I find myself generally sticking to one usual style: long silver hair that flows down to the middle of my back; bright blue eyes that seem to pierce into the farthest depths of any man's soul; a cheerful yet sinister smirk that can be interpretted as either friendly or deadly; short and thin, with a few well-developed muscles here and there to make me look agile, yet strong. As far as attire goes, I find that the robes of my profession as a wizard are not only the most fitting for my image, but are also quite comfortable. Don't believe me? Try wearing robes for a few days and you will never go back to that "ordinary", tight clothing that Humans wear! My favorite color is that of a deep, dark blue, and thus is the color I commonly wear.
As far as weaponry goes, I find that I do not need to bother with such petty human trifles, but in the name of sportsmanship I have, over the course of my extended lifetime, mastered just about every weapon man has created, as well as a few others they are yet to create. Over the years I have grown to favor one weapon in particular: the Rapier, and so I am typically seen wielding my silver Rapier, Moonshine, which has a blade forged of material finer than mythril and a hilt decorated with images of the moon, which I find myself fond of. The scabbard for such a fine blade is of no less quality, made from the scales of a red dragon and decorated with exquisite jewels! Once a group of village bandits decided to embark on a quest to steal my fine blade, but that is another story to be told at another time!
Now then, I could tell thee a thousand tales about any number of things, but the tale I wish to tell thee today is that about an encounter with a mere mortal whose name and face I shall never forget: Jax. Although I could tell you all now how this wonderful dual ended, I shall try not to get ahead of myself and begin from the beginning...
Several thousand years ago, shortly after the Riot of 1377 took place, I called upon my usual Demon Scryer, Grashwick. He told me of a battle that was to take place shortly, where the entire fate of the world would be decided. Naturally, since I speak with the Gods on a regular basis, they chose me to be their representative in such a battle of great importance. There were a few unavoidable conditions, of course, since my foe was to be a human: my life would be as fragile as a mortal during this dual, I would lose all knowledge of magic until the dual had ended, and I would lose all knowledge of all the weapons I had mastered except for one. Naturally, I chose my Rapier as the weapon of choice, and, armed with Moonshine, I assumed my usual appearance and set out on a long journey to the beaches of Chu'Lak.
Nearly three months passed by before I reached my destination, and found that I had arrived on time. There, waiting impatiently for me, was a young man who drew his sword at my approach. The scent of the sea filled me with a calmness as I called out to the man who was to be my opponent, naming myself as Psiko. Of course, that is not my real name, but it was an alter-ego I used frequently and was quite fond of the name at the time. After a few formalities had been exchanged I drew my sword, allowing the polished blade to reflect the sunlight while I prepared myself to intercept his first attack.
LocoColt04
"And just who are you?" queried Jax, curious as to whether or not this strange cloaked figure may be his assignment.
Shrouded in deep navy robes, the mysterious figure with the long silver hair replied. "I like to call myself Psiko. I would apologize for my tardiness, but you see, it was yourself in the wrong. You, my friend, are early."
Jax snickered. This guy's got a sense of humor just like my brother's... I wonder where 'they' found him? "I'm Jax. I'm here, you're here, you know what comes next."
Psiko withdrew a flawless rapier from an interesting sheath. Jax couldn't quite make out what any of it was made from, but the perfection of the blade only meant trouble. This should be... interesting. What IS that thing? It's so... perfect. Wow.
Jax glanced down at his own sword, and sighed. Let's chalk up another one, hmm? He looked back up at the Moonshine, and took a step forward. Jumping back, Jax rubbed his eyes with his left hand. Damn sun. Stupid bright lights. He looked back up at Psiko, standing patiently, possibly scheming. Curious as to what was running through the mind of the superior mage, Jax searched Psiko's cold blue eyes for answers. Nothing. Jax's own grey eyes lost focus, and his attention stole away to movement in the distance.
A lone seagull disappeared beyond the horizon, and Jax's heart skipped a beat. Fearing death, he freaked out, swinging his sword wildly at nothing. Psiko remained standing, saying nothing, only staring, laughing to himself. Jax slowed his swings and began breathing heavily. His eyes met those of Psiko again, and he dropped his sword.
Standing calmly now, Jax began. "Why? Why didn't you attack? You had every opportunity, but you just stand there. Standing, doing nothing. Why are you here? Why am I here? Answer me!"
"If I wanted you dead, you would be."
Jax sighed again. A true warrior's heart. I like that.
Lifting his sand-dusted sword off the ground, Jax walked right up to Psiko and stood. Taking a single step back, he swung his sword across his chest, from the upper left to the lower right, and then stepped into a low slice at Psiko's legs.
Maybe? Too easy.
Psiko
As Jax begins his attack, the waves crash upon the rocks and water blows amid the competitors. The wind tosses sand into the face of Psiko as Jax brings his sword toward Psiko's chest. Blinded by the sand in his eyes, Psiko hears the sound of the blade cutting through the air and leaps back only moments before the slash would have killed him.
In an attempt to regain his composure, Psiko vigorously rubs at his eyes, trying to dig the sand out as Jax moves in for his second attack. Once again the elements interfere, this time aiding Psiko as a large stone crashes into Jax's sword, deflecting it off its intended course.
Before Jax can attack again Psiko stumbles forward and crashes head-first into his opponent, sending them both crashing to the ground. The blades of both men fly off into the distance, landing beside each other in the sand nearly three hundred yards away from the two men.
Jax responds by landing several hard blows on Psiko's jaw, causing the Immortal Man's lip to bleed. Red drops of crimson liquid drip down Psiko's chin as a frenzied look crosses onto Psiko's face.
"You...made...me...bleed!?" Psiko reaches up and rubs a bit of the blood onto his thumb and stares incrediously at the sight of it. "No mortal in fifteen hundred years, ever since I fought Zaketh in Mal Kaska! Perhaps I underestimated you, human."
With incredible speed Psiko charges toward Jax, rage burning in his eyes. Jax braces himself for the impact, preparing to pummel Psiko into submission should this battle turn into a Street Fight. Jax winds back to unleash a powerful punch, but only connects with air as Psiko leaps overhead, landing not more than ten feet from the two swords. Unfortunately Psiko loses his footing in the unstable sand and slides past the swords. By the time he gets back onto his feet, Jax already has the two swords in hand and is getting ready to charge forward. Dread creeps into Psiko's mind as he realizes the situation is hopeless. He knows he is doomed.
In an act of desperation, Psiko dives to his left as Jax brings both blades down in a fatal strike. Sand flies into the air as Psiko lands safely, barely avoiding death once more. And then he notices it...
Laying there in the sand about two feet away, half covered, is a small throwing knife. Psiko picks it up and fumbles with it, trying to remember how to properly throw the blade. Suddenly he remembers that he is now only proficient with the Moonshine, and mutters a quick curse under his breath. Jax charges again and Psiko throws the knife, aiming at his opponents head and hoping for a miracle...
The knife handle connects with Jax's left hand, causing him to drop Moonshine into the sand. Psiko rolls swiftly past Jax, grabbing Moonshine and bringing it around in a powerful slash as he rises from the ground.
LocoColt04
Jax yelped silently as the blunt end of the handle struck his left wrist. Another six inches in either direction, and he would have had a knife in his arm. Knowing this, Jax took a heavy inward sigh of relief when the Moonshine was forced from his hand. Without any time to react, Jax caught Psiko roll past from the corner of his left eye, and shifted his weight accordingly.
Not quick enough...
Jax managed to get the blade of his own sword low enough to the ground to deflect Psiko's roundhouse slash, but he still took some damage as the tip of the Moonshine ripped a three inch gash in his right arm. Clutching his forearm, he took a step back to avoid what might have been a second swipe from the deadly blade; however, the suspected follow-up attack was nonexistent. Jax slowed his breathing in an attempt to control his accelerated heartbeat, tossing his sword into his left hand. A gust of wind picked up the loose, dry particles of sand further away from the water and blew them toward the sparring couple once more. Jax instinctively shielded his eyes with his right arm, and the sand lodged itself within the gaping cut.
...I swear, if I get one more piece of sand stuck in my body... Jax rushed toward the water and violently thrust his right arm in. The burning of the salty sea water was a pain like none he had felt in years, but he knew it would be the most effective way to cleanse and protect his open wound. He looked back up at Psiko, who was no longer standing where he previously had been.
Footsteps.
Though Psiko may have been superior to Jax in every way, neither man could rely on such assumptions. Psiko was neither diligent nor delicate in his running -- at least, he wasn't for the moment. Jax whirled around to his left side in time to confront Psiko's charge. His mysterious robed foe stopped in mid-step, catching Jax off-guard. Expecting another swing from the Moonshine, he has raised his sword to block, keeping his right arm tucked into his torso for protection. Consequently, upon Psiko's abrupt halt, Jax lost his balance, having spun without a counterbalance, and fell to the ground on his back. Psiko loomed above.
Knowing his options were limited, Jax looked again into the eyes of Psiko. Cold and breaking, they were, but his own eyes showed no mercy either. Lifting his right arm above his eyes for protection from the glaring light of the sun, Jax almost instantly thrust his palm forth toward Psiko's stomach, letting loose a quick, diluted blast of electric energy, perhaps just strong enough to stun the ancient mage.
Psiko
Damn beach, this stupid sand keeps interfering with my plans! thinks Psiko as another gust of wind sprays more sand into his face. He shakes the sand from his face just in time to notice a bolt of lightning jolting toward him. Instinctivly, Psiko mutters a quick incantation to cast a counterspell, only to realize at the last minute that he has lost all magic for this battle.
Stupid Gods, stripping away my magical talents while this man is able to use magic! Is there no justice in this world?
The blast of lightning sizzles and cracks as it strikes Psiko, sending a jolt of pain through every nerve in his body. Taking advantage of this temporary immobilization, Jax thrusts his sword at Psiko's heart. As luck would have it, a large rock just so happens to fly into Jax's sword, deflecting the blow off to the side.
Not wasting any time, Psiko counters with a quick thrust of his own that Jax easily dodges. The two men become locked within a fierce melee, each thrust being parried and each slash being deflected. The melee rages on for what seems like hours as the two men are interlocked within a stalemate, when a flock of seagulls passes overhead. The birds unload a barrage of droppings, one of them splattering in Psiko's face just as Jax slashes at Psiko's left arm. Blood gushes from the fresh wound as Psiko strikes back at Jax, still half-blind from the aerial assault. Jax easily deflects the attack and counters with a strike of his own that Psiko barely manages to stumble away from. Finally able to see clearly once more, Psiko resumes his attack.
No force of nature nor fury of the wild could possibly disrupt Psiko's concentration as he hurls Moonshine high into the air while charging toward Jax. The sword lands only a few inches behind Jax, who is bringing his sword up to strike the unarmed Psiko down with a fatal blow. Redoubling his efforts, Psiko builds more momentum and, at the last possible moment, dives to Jax's right side, avoiding the fatal blow. Before he hits the ground, Psiko grabs Moonshine and twists his body around, bringing the blade around in a deadly arc toward Jax's back.