Jack and Tony fight

* Jack and Scrae have found their way to the site of tonight's fight,
deep in the Degradi
<Jack> *Degradi Warrens. Jack is in his black armor and Scrae seems to
be wearing clothes that match what most of the locals have.  They
both move through the crowd of people gathering for the fight and
look around for something.
<BunnehWyld> * Of course, sometimes you find something, and sometimes
something finds you.  Today's something comes in the form of a
shirtless catboy with green hair, wandering through the crowd with a
backpack and a confident grin... *
* MontyProton chats with a few people as he wanders the crowd,
eventually getting closer to Jack and Scrae, and nodding to them.
"Evening, gentlemen! How's it going tonight?"
<Jack> *Scrae notices the shirtless boy immediately.  He puts a hand on
Jack's elbow and grins at Monty.  "Good evening.  Aren't you a
friendly young man? I don't know how things are going yet, but I
expect they could go very well."
* Entropi is some distance off, running his stand. He stands out. Two
meters tall, with a thin, spider-like build, in an elaborate three
piece suit of red and black. He has neatly trimmed black hair,
groomed and trimmed black eyebrows, and an exquisitely manscaped
goatee. He's almost out of place, but appears to be expertly handling
several things at once.
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* Jack notices the well-groomed man. "Scrae, whoring can come later. We
have business to do here, and that may be the man we're looking for
there."
* MontyProton grins back, bowing slightly. "I try to be! Though not
quite THAT kind of friendly... honestly, you give people a smile and
they grab for your shirt. Now, I understand you've got business from
what you mentioned, but are you SURE you don't need a snack before
it? Always good to be at your best, you know..."
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<Jack> "Can I snack on you?" Scrae asks.  Jack rolls his eyes and
starts towards Entropi.
<MontyProton> "I'm afraid I really couldn't.  I bet I could find
something you'd enjoy, though, truly..."
* Diggy is now known as thePainter
<Jack> "I have to keep an eye on my brother.  But, come, tell me what
else you have to offer," Scrae says, hooking his arm around Monty's
without asking and trying to bring the catboy with them.  Jack
approaches Entropi, trying to catch the man's eye.
* Euryth` is present, mostly out of curiosity. She'd heard there were
things secreted away in the warrens.. but this was her first time
ever actually attending an event down there. While bloodsport wasn't
quite her thing, she wasn't exactly morally opposed to it either. She
pondered if she had enough to make a wager.
* Entropi has paused in his general flurry of activity to pick up a
dwarf. Holding him bodily, as the group gets close, they catch the
tail-end of his not-quite-a-whisper very angry comment: "...and I
don't -care- if you cheat, I care if you get -caught-, because then I
have to do -something- about you. Understand? Yes? -Fine-. Scamper
off, now."
* Entropi straightens his suit, and looks to Scrae. Eye caught!
* MontyProton follows along with a smile, watching the surroundings
curiously. "Well, I can't stay too long, I am technically on contract
I'm afraid. But I have some great snacks and drinks for watching the
matches tonight. Or perhaps you're a gambling fan? Two types of bets
available!"
<MontyProton> "... Well, better to say two different types of things to
bet on?  There's the matches of course, and I'm also offering a
little challenge regarding the snack foods..."
* Jack is the one who approaches Entropi, though Scrae is close behind.
Jack says to him, "I understand that fighters are needed."
<Jack> *Scrae says to Monty, leaning in very close, "I want to bet on
my brother, of course.  But what is this snack food challenge?"
<MontyProton> "Oh? Not surprised... I'll have to wait a bit, of course,
I can't take the bets until he's registered and odds are in the
system.  But as for the snacks... quite simple really.  You pay ten
credits.  A bit above the normal snack rates, I know." (cont)
<Entropi> "Oh? Indeed. And what kind of talent has my... very reliable
friend... brought to my humble table today. Hmn?"
<MontyProton> "Then, you tell me about what kind of things you like to
eat, dietary requirements, that sort of thing.  If I can't give you
something new that you enjoy?  I'll give you your money back, and
this."  Monty's eyes twinkle as he palms something - a gold ring with
sapphires set in it.
* Jack glances back at Monty and silently admits that Scrae has
probably picked up someone useful for their purposes again. To
Entropi he says, "I have military training, I prefer the longsword or
longbow."
<Jack> *Scrae continues to talk to Monty, and also attempts to use his
charm spell on the catboy, "Oh, that's very nice.  I actually don't
have any money.  At the moment.  But, I always repay my debts.
Perhaps you could help me there?"
<Entropi> "Medieval military, advanced package... hmn. You say
-training-, but what about field work? Any campaigns?"
* Entropi looks mildly bored, and has picked up an abacus that he is
rapidly playing with. Or at least, it -looks- like an abacus. One
with spiderweb frame and racks, and odd glass orbs for beads.
<Jack> "I was in the field for a century before I became the private
guard for my former employer," Jack answers.
* MontyProton frowns slightly at the admission of lacking funds,
shaking his head briefly. "Mmf... well, I DO offer barter as an
option. Other help would really depend on what kind you were looking
for... though might I offer you a free tip?"
<Jack> "Please do," Scrae says, still keeping very close to Monty.
* Entropi smiles very so slightly. "Excellent. Yes, I have a space for
you... first time here, though, so let me make sure the rules are
clear before we go any further. I promise you a fight - that is all.
Many things go into the fighting area. One or more of them leave.
Whatever leaves, gets part of the purse. Obviously, the less things
leaving... the more of the purse they get."
* MontyProton leans in closer still, to whisper something in Scrae's
ear with a confident smile on his face. "What you did isn't the best
way to make a good impression."
* Jack nods. "That's what I expected. When do I go in the ring?"
<Jack> *Scrae pouts at Monty.  "It's just my way of being friendly," he
whispers back, and then reaches up and tries to pet his ears.
"You're just so adorable, I can't help myself."
* Entropi looks down at his abacus, and he plays with a few beads.
"Tonight. Shortly, if you are able. I had another contender cancel on
me. A pity. Reliability is -so- hard to come by these days. I will
need to make sure she has a -reason- to be missing. But oh, do not
worry! Such matters, good sir, are not your concern. She is contract,
you are mercenary."
* Entropi smiles thinly at Jack. "When the tone sounds, make your way
in. There is a prep area over there you can use. It will be private
to you and yours, until your bout begins."
* MontyProton laughs, leaning in to the petting. "Ahh, well, got to
work on that self control, you know. Did you have anything you'd like
to barter for the wagering? It looks like your brother dear is in for
the match!"
* Jack smiles for the first time. "I'm able and ready." He inclines his
head to Entropi and turns away. "Scrae, are you coming with me?"
Scrae shakes his head and keeps petting his new friend. "I have to
find something to bet with, brother." He looks to Monty. "Really, all
I have to offer is my sweet personality and good looks, though."
* Entropi nods at Jack, and returns to the handling of his completely
and totally legal and legitimate business. Es.
<MontyProton> "Tricky... hm.  I... could maybe use one of my
boilerplate contracts and you could wager a week of work as a
waiter?  I know a place to eat that could use some temp help?"
* Jack has moved off to the preperation area. Scrae gives Monty an
appalled look. "Work?" He puts a hand to his chest. "I haven't worked
in three centuries. Though, I do have every confidence in my brother
winning."
<MontyProton> "I'm afraid confidence isn't a tradeable commodity... at
least in this district.  I hear some mages can do some neat things
with it, but I'm not one.  Sorry..."  Monty steps back, starting to
turn away.
<Jack> "You misunderstand," Scrae says, not letting go of Monty.  "I
mean I will accept your wager, because of my confidence."
<Jack> ((anybody have anything else they want to do before the fighting
starts?))
<MontyProton> "Aha.  My mistake... then I'll need the ten credits and a
little info to find the snack from?"  Monty turns back, smiling.
<Jack> *Scrae now looks confused.  "No, I meant... oh I see.  You
wanted me to work to earn the credits.  I thought you wanted me to
wager a contract for my work."  Scrae pouts again.  "This world is
very frustrating."
<MontyProton> "OH!  No no, I can do the contract. That was a mistake on
my part, sorry!"
* MontyProton laughs, shaking his head and reaching into his pack with
one hand. A single-sheet contract and a pen are withdrawn in short
order, on a clipboard. "I'll just need this here?"
<Jack> "Shouldn't we wait to sign it until we know if I've lost?" Scrae
asks.
<MontyProton> "And risk running out?  No, I will give the contract to
you as I would return wagered funds if you win.  I'll also need to
know whether you're betting on a win, place, or such..."
<Jack> "Let's start with place," Scrae says, suddenly less certain now
that he's going to have something actually on the line.  He signs the
paper just as the tone indicating that a fight is about to start goes
off.  Jack enters the ring shortly after that.
<MontyProton> "Excellent.  Pleasure doing business, Mister Scrae."
Monty nods, slipping the clipboard back into his pack once it's
signed.  "Any other bettors in the area?  Last call!"
<Jack> "Hmph."  Scrae gives Monty a look, and then goes to the edge of
the ring to watch his brother.  He concentrates, trying to pick up
the surface thoughts of people around.  He's going to be especially
interested in whatever Jack's opponent is thinking.
<thePainter> Jack's opponent steps out into the arena, He was dressed
very minimally, in sliced and torn pants that had once flatttered his
muscular body very well. The creature was bipedal, and his skin was a
dark grey, with orange horns, going from dark at the base to light at
the tip, curling back along his head. His hair was black and looked
like it had been hacked off with a knife at chin length. The critters
eyes were a solid glowing purple
<thePainter> Does scrae like listening to elder gods?
* Euryth` watches the arena from her seat, her mind... a blank spot to
anyone trying to listen in, reading it kind of like trying to read a
marble brick, a tyrian pink marble brick.
<Jack> *Scrae probably does not particularly like that, and if he
starts hearing some mad gibbering, he's going to shut that down fast.
* Euryth` blinks a bit, looking at the man stepping into the arena
squinting curiously at the person stepping into the arena, a hand
going up to stroke one of her own horns. just... staring for now.
* Jack watches his opponent closely, looking for weapons, and not
drawing his own yet.
* MontyProton wanders closer as well - the people fighting tonight
seemed interesting enough. Maybe he'd pick up some dodging pointers.
<thePainter> and his body was covered in scars.  In his hands he held a
scythe, the blade thin with resharpening, and the haft stained in a
rainbow of colours. To the eyes of those who could See he was covered
in inky black tentacles, just off the physical plane.  A wave of
subtle nervousness came off of the subdued aura of fear he carried
with him.  ((repost))
* Jack wrinkles his nose. He hadn't been expecting to face something
that was clearly demonic. And a species he didn't know. Plus, he
could sense a warning from Scrae. He draws his sword and starts to
circle his opponent slowly.
<Euryth`> .oO(... That guy looked pailed up harder than a rustblood at
a sea dweller's pumpkin party.)
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* thePainter eyes that sword contemptuously. {they couldnt give me some
motherfucker whos at least fuckin interestin if they gonna keep my
ass here?} He began to spin his polearm two handledly, casually,
watching Jack , and letting his chucklevoodoo, laced through with the
madness of the deep ones expand and deepen. He turned on his heel and
moves backward away from Jack, watching the he was carrying himself
and handling the sword. He was
<Euryth`> ((He was'))
<thePainter> carrying himself and handling the sword. He was also
listening, eyes growing brighter, as the horror terror whispered to
him.
<thePainter> ((the way he was* dropped a word))
* Jack narrows his eyes and breaths slowly, sensing the aura from the
creature, and trying to keep his head above it. He continues to
circle for a few steps, then lunges forward, spreading his wings at
the same time to create a flurry of movement, and striking towards
the troll's midsection with his blade.
* thePainter the sound of metal scraping was easily audible as he
deflected the blade away from his center, and the spin of the scythe
attempted to take it from Jacks hands and send it flying. The
polarm's spin was snapped to a hault, and the subjugglator shifted
his weight to his outside foot ,lashing out with the butt end toward
his opponent. Almost a rebuke. {those dumbfucks caint even send some
fucker got any skills, one these days i
<Jack> ((*one these days i))
<thePainter> i'm gon' gut then good fer their motherfuckin
presumptions. anyone ever tell you you look like a motherfuckin
cluckbeast when you do that shit with your wings, you thinkin you
makin yourself look big an scary but you just look like a dumbfuck.}
It wasn't like anyone could actually hear him, growling and talking
to himself.
<thePainter> Or at least understand him.
* Jack keeps his sword, spinning with the movement of the scythe, and
closing his wings in tight as he goes. He's hit with the butt end but
he just whirls around to face the troll again and laughs. Now he's
really smiling. He jumps in close again, though keeps his sword close
this time, hoping his opponent will give him an opening.
* thePainter steps back away from him, moving away and sideways, the
close distance was easier for Jack to handle with his weapon, than
for his opponent. He seemed to anticipate, listening to the whispers
of the Old ones, letting them guide him, as they have for most of his
existance. {Well aint you just all motherfuckin full of mirth, you
like fightin don'tcha?} He returned the grin all sharp teeth and
bright eyes, taking a swipe at the
<Jack> ((*taking a swipe at the))
<thePainter> fliers legs with the business end of the weapon, hes
anticipating  the demon treating it like a normal staff, and not
expecting to get an ankle hooked by the curved blade and yanked.
* Jack jumps and spreads his wings again to give himself some extra
air, kicking out at the troll's face. {I do.}
<thePainter> The sound of his own language made him falter, good play.
The haft spun in his hand facing the blade up and he jerked it
backward, a bruise blooming on his jaw as he failed to completely
dodge the kick from the demonic thing, but he was laughing, as much
at himself as at Jack.
* Jack came straight down, sensing the haft below him, he hoped to
break it under his booted feet. He knew it was a risk, that if the
weapon was too strong, that he wasn't going to avoid the blade. But
he didn't hesitate.
<thePainter> The fire hardened haft of a pole arm made for a creature
who can punch through safty glass? He does succeed in jerking it out
of his opponent's grip, unable to shift it in time to compensate for
the sudden weight from that direction, but it put them within each
other's guard. The grey and orange creature grinned and attempted to
punch him in the throat.
* Jack had not gotten his balance back before the punch caught him. He
gags, his throat burning in pain, but instead of falling back, he
tries to grab the troll's arm.
* thePainter knows this move, if he doesn't handle it right he'll end
up on his back  on the other side of Jack. He threw his weight
forward, head lowered, bending his arm instead of locking it, and
attempted to slam his head into the other creatures.
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* Jack was still recovering from the last blow and before he knew it,
the troll's head was smashing into his. He stumbles backwards
finally, blood dribbling from his nose. He keeps moving away,
coughing and trying to catch his breath.
<thePainter> Woosh, that'll rattle your pan, it really will, he didn't
pick up his weapon, following  the whispers inciting him to press his
attack while his opponent was  still recovering. They were excited,
blood drawn, and he had a hard time telling them from him as they
wound him up. A step forward  to shift his weight and kick high,
adrenalin singing through his system.
* Jack is just straightening up when the kick hits him in the chest. He
backs up even further, but then his coughing turns to laughing again.
With an inarticulate shout, he lunges towards the troll again,
slashing out with his sword.
<Jack> *On the sidelines, Scrae puts his hand to his head and sighs in
exasperation, muttering, "Jack... please don't forget why you're
doing this fight."
<thePainter> {need to work on your form little fucker, caint leave
yourself extended like that.} The words came as he twisted back to
the side side, taking a shallow slash on his abdoment to grab the
extended arm and give him a pull to continue the demon's momentum,
trying to make him eat the dirt.
* Jack hits the dirt, but rolls, unfortunately losing his grip on his
sword. He rises to a crouch, turning to face the troll. He seems to
hesitate.
<thePainter> The troll gave the sword a swift kick  away from jack
while he had a moment of reprieve and it was free. Purple blood, dark
enough it was almost blue instead ran from his side and down his hip
and leg. He shifted his weight toward his own weapon.
* Jack was disappointed that the troll didn't take the bait. He lunges
from the crouched position, bringing a fist up in a feint toward's
the troll's face. But his intention is to actually grapple the troll.
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<thePainter> An arm came up , forearm  held  near his face to block the
feint, while he moved back, unafraid to continue to move. Standing
your ground for principle was a good way to end up dead. Heavy
fighters didn't work well in what he did. He missed the grapple, but
let his legs buckle, rolling backwards and curling his head up to
minimize impact with the ground.
* Jack grasped the troll's arm with the hand that he pretended to punch
with. He let himself get carried to the ground on top of the troll,
his other hand grasping at his hip. Both hands suddenly errupt into
flame.
<thePainter> Oh good holy /fuck/. The subjugglator cursed a blue
streak, voice high and loud with pain, and he attempted very
seriously to knee his opponent low in the gut, or high in the crotch
and sink his teeth into the arm holding onto his arm.
* Jack takes the knee (fortunately he has protection on his crotch),
and he takes the bite. But he still grips tightly. Even as the troll
tastes his blood, he grins, and the flames spread.
<thePainter> Tony's eyes glow brightly and then go black, mouth staying
where it was. Chuckle voodoo and the voice of an old god try to drive
themselves into the demon's pan, while he could smell his own flesh
cooking.
* Jack doesn't know what's going on with his opponent's eyes. Maybe
he's dying? That makes him grin wider. But a thought that's not his
own occurs to him. He recognizes Scrae getting in his head. He growls
low and says, {Yield. Yield and we'll fight again.}
<thePainter> He spat blood at Jack, and followed it by trying to smash
his nose in with the crown of his head. There was an odd maddening
undercurrent to his words now, echoing and twisting. {Iiwill never
motherfuckin yield.} he tried to sue the knee between them to fling
him off and away.
* Jack gets another bash to the nose, and is kicked away. Still he gets
up again, blood smeared on his face, his vision blurred. But the
flames don't stop. He laughs and shouts, {Good!)
* thePainter rolls up to his feet and bares red stained teeth,
gathering his power and throwing the madness and fear into high gear,
trying to punch it through the other's defenses, power searching for
what he feared most, making the shadows come alive, trying to give
life to the fears in his mind- though the audiance would see
something else entirely, catching the edges of barely controlled
power. He knew, distantly, that handprints were
<Jack> (that handprints were)
<thePainter> burned deep into skin now, but there was no room for
worrying about it now, only life and death and battle, and the rush
and taste of blood in his mouth.
* Jack was being worn down by the fight, and when the fear hit him, it
took hold. His eyes widened and he shrieked in anger and fear, flames
bursting up in a circle around him. He struggled to shake off the
shadows, sensing they weren't real. From the sidelines, Scrae started
to worry about more than just losing his bet.
<thePainter> Tony moved quickly, kicking his  scythe up  and catching
it while the demon creature struggled against fear and madness. The
subjugglator had so many scars on his body, and he was still alive,
for a reason. The scythe spun and he moved toward Jack again.
* Jack concentrated, focusing as hard as he could on his enemy. His own
fear aura comes up automatically, as a response to the fear he was
feeling. Despite everything, he rushes towards the troll again,
flames rushing along with him, and at the last moment will dive low
for the creature's legs.
<thePainter> {Motherfuckin scumblooded pirokenetic piece of sewage
wastage!}Jack dove low and Tony jumped high, slamming the blunt end
of the scythe down into the creature's back to vault over him.
* Jack is slammed into the ground, the breath knocked out of him again.
He's still wreathed in flames, but he's moving a lot slower than at
the beginning of the fight as he starts to push himself up again.
<thePainter> Tony turned on the ball of his foot, and brought the blade
of his scythe down, this time not aiming for the center of mass, he
wanted something distracting and painful, difficult to dodge. He
aimed for slash through the wingsails.
<Jack> *The blade cuts into one of Jack's wings, and feathers come free
then burn up in the flames surrounding him.  He swears, and turns
away, getting his feet under him.  That's when Scrae has had enough.
He jumps into the ring, talons extended, intending to try to pull the
troll away from his brother.
<thePainter> It was the whispers that warned him, that gave him his
edge, making him spin away from Jack with a feral growl and slash at
the body coming toward him, for a moment ignoring the one he had been
engaging.
<Jack> *Scrae danced away, being better at dodging than his brother.
He bares fangs at the troll, and tries to keep his attention away
from Jack. A whistle is being blown, but Scrae doesn't know what that
means.
<thePainter> Tony growled back, but looked up at the whistle blowing,
his body tensing, evedently he knew that that meant something.
<Jack> *Scrae noticed the troll's distraction, and took a step back,
nervous about what it might mean.  A moment later, he collapses, fast
asleep.  As does Jack, and the flames in the ring go out as soon as
Jack does.
<thePainter> Tony was resistant to mind effects.. resistant, but not
immune, he eventually collapsed as well, fighting to stay awake. He
really fucking hated when they did that