Alfred vs Sey

Firebrand and Grill Wrote:

Everyone knows the Firebrand! After its most recent resurgence after burning down again (...again), the Firebrand has come back better and stronger than ever. Made using the finest in craftsdwarfship and the hardest stone known the man (rumoured to have a rubber core), it's become a popular tourist destination as well as a well-loved home for wayward ronin and adventurers. Recently, the staff has installed a large grill that... wait.

Do you smell gas?

General - Your typical bar, complete with wooden floors and stone walls. There's a bar area off to the side, and the larger part of the first floor is littered with chairs and tables. For some reason, there's a chandelier hanging from the rafters, both of which look incredibly suspicious for a two-story building. Coincidentally the second floor is blocked off for security reasons. Wait. Do you smell gas?

Due to Watts plugging a few too many electric grills and heaters into one socket next to a large pile of oily rags and tanks of gasoline, the Firebrand comes pre-installed with FIRE. Fire everywhere, and it's spreading at an unusually rapid rate, possibly due to that nasty gas and grease spill the other day. Due to the stone walls, you'll have some time to ******** one another up in this instant classic.

Natural Element Resource - ... Fire.... Fire. FIRE

Weapons - Tables, chairs, bottles of alcohol, and the occasional dwarfen worker.

Bonus Effects - Fire, fire everywhere. The Firebrand will only catch on fire after you've actually started fighting though.

Alfred Churchill sat, waiting quietly, in one corner of the tavern, examining the scenery.

It was a nice little place, to be sure. Somewhat old-fashioned, with all the wood and the stone, but he liked that. He had always preferred places like this to more modern establishments, with all their crowds and clutter and noise. Almost seemed a shame that he’d likely be wrecking the place in a short time, what with his fight. Still, it made waiting for his opponent to arrive reasonably comfortable.

There was just one thing off about it...

Alfred sniffed. There it was again, unmistakable this time.

For whatever reason, there was a smell of petrol in the air, a rather unpleasant little detail that managed to significantly lower his opinion of the tavern. Unless whoever ran this place was willing to burn it down for the sake of making the fight more entertaining (a worrying notion, to be sure, although thankfully an unlikely one), they had clearly made some sort of mistake here. Whatever the reason for it, it made his current position, seated about as far from the door as he could get, a very unsafe one.

Sighing, he slowly stood up. He was of average height, standing at around 5'10, and far lighter than most fighters, although not quite to the point of being underweight. He was reasonably handsome, in a vaguely effeminate sort of way, although this was marred somewhat by the near-constant drooping of his eyelids which seemed to indicate perpetual boredom. Long black hair framed his pale face, with a pair of large curled locks draped over his shoulders. He wore a finely-tailored suit, black trousers and matching long-tailed jacket over a dark grey waistcoat, with a black tie and simple white shirt. A pair of black leather shoes, immaculately clean, completed the outfit.

If anything, he was overdressed. His hair alone had taken the better part of an hour to prepare, and his suit was brand new, fresh from the tailors. While his attire was similar to what he always wore while fighting, it was rarely in as perfect condition as it was now, generally being creased and dirty even before the violence began.

The reason for this was simple. Usually, he fought in underground fighting rings. Being held in small venues, with little more than word of mouth used to advertise them, and nowhere near legal enough to be publicly broadcast, it was pointless to come to such fights looking his best. This was different. Here he was, quite literally worlds away from home, in the preliminaries for the most prestigious tournament he had ever had the honour of entering. Not only was he going to fight harder than ever before, but, by the honour of the Churchill family, he was going to look good in the process.

Assuming, of course, his opponent showed up before the whole place burnt down with him inside it. He was not normally an impatient man, and he had not been waiting long, but he had no desire to linger when he risked being set aflame. Sighing again, he sat back down, this time in the middle of the room, closer to the door. He could only hope that he would not be waiting for much longer.

As he saw the woman approaching, and noticed the FIGHTER on her wrist proving her to be his opponent, Alfred’s face broke into a smile. He felt the warmth of her aura as she spoke, but, having had no real experience dealing with magic, he was unsure of its source and chose to ignore it. “Worry not, I’m fine with a little waiting. One does not last long in the upper classes without quickly growing accustomed to spending far too much time doing far too little, after all.” His accent was clearly English, more specifically the generic ‘posh’ variant more properly known as received pronunciation, and seemed to indicate the privileged upbringing already implied by his words and outfit.

He quickly stood up, pushing his chair off to the side, and reached into the pockets of his jacket as he did so. He pulled out a pair of black leather gloves, putting them on immediately. While not thick enough to offer any protection, close examination would reveal that the gloves had small bulges over the knuckles, revealing their purpose as weighted-knuckle, or sap, gloves.

Once he was fully standing and his gloves were on, Alfred’s smile faded. “Ah, of course, I have not yet introduced myself. My apologies, I tend to forget such formalities when preparing for combat. Alfred Churchill, at your service.” He bowed deeply, holding this pose for a few seconds before rising.

“Now then...” He shifted into a fighting stance, both legs bent slightly with his left placed forward, his left arm held before his chest, and his right arm cocked back. He grinned, in an almost predatory fashion. “...Shall we begin?”

[1]

Holding his position, Alfred raised one eyebrow as Sey moved her arms. She appeared to be... Praying? During a fight? Something about it seemed...

Slowly, he realised exactly what he was up against. Alfred had never actually fought any magic users before, for the simple reason that there weren’t any where he was from, but he knew full well that they were common here, and all the evidence pointed to the woman in front of him being one of them. His grin widened. He had been looking forward to this.

This train of thought was interrupted, however, by the sound of loud swearing coming from the kitchen, followed by... Was that fire he could hear? He sniffed. Beneath the strong smell of gas he had noticed earlier, he could clearly smell smoke. Alfred swore under his breath, too quietly to be heard. His fears, it would seem, had been proven valid. He would have to make this quick.

He rolled to the right, so that the table he had been sitting at prior to Sey’s arrival was no longer between them, and assumed the same stance as before upon standing. If uninterrupted, he would then charge forward, aiming a straight punch at Sey’s face with his right hand upon reaching her. If this attack connected, he would jump back, ready to dodge his opponent’s retaliation.

[2]

Alfred should probably have expected the barrier, given that Sey had made no attempt to dodge. Regardless of his complete inexperience in dealing with magic, it would, were he observing the fight rather than participating in it, have been obvious.

However, when fighting, his entire mindset changed. He was acting on instinct and experience, not the cold reason he normally relied on, and nothing in his experience had prepared him for this.

Put simply, he was caught completely off-guard. His gloves absorbed most of the force of the impact, saving him from the broken hand he may otherwise had received upon punching the barrier, but his surprise provided just as long an opening as the pain from such an injury would. Distracted, he could barely resist as Sey pushed his arm aside.

The worst of this by far, however, occurred as Sey pulled him forward. Having lost his focus completely, Alfred’s attempt to react to this failed miserably. Losing his footing, he stumbled, before falling forward, most likely taking Sey down with him.

Well, he thought as he fell, this is deeply embarrassing.

Not one of his best moments, he had to admit. He could only hope that nobody would ever see footage of this.

With his attention elsewhere, he completely failed to notice the fire, which was now spreading to the main room of the tavern.

[3]

This fight was turning out quite unlike any Alfred had ever had before. First the fire, then the magic (he still felt a bit odd about thinking of that as something that actually exists), and now...

Well...

While this was hardly the first time Alfred had been on top of a woman, they generally weren’t attempting to beat each other unconscious at the time.

Immediately, he lost what little focus on the fight he still had left, so urgent was the need, as a gentleman, to apologise and stand up as quickly as possible. Placing his hands on the ground to push himself up, he began to blurt out an apology, speaking louder and far faster than he had done before.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry, forgive me, I-”

He stopped, rather suddenly, as Sey wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Wha-”

Whatever Alfred had been about to say was interrupted by the kiss. His face, which was already gaining a pinkish tinge, turned bright red. He stared at Sey’s face for a second, more confused than anything else.

It was this confusion that led him to guess what was happening. In the back of his mind, he realised that, regardless of how odd the situation was, there was something wrong with how overpowering the confusion was. Attempting to push himself up again, only to fail to even get off the ground, only served to convince him of the truth behind his deduction.

“Goddamn ******** magic,” he slurred drowsily, his earlier politeness entirely absent, replaced by blind rage. Clumsily, he rolled to the left, stopping about a meter away from his opponent. After another failed attempt to stand, he slammed his forehead into the floor, hard enough to draw blood.

A risky tactic, but it served its purpose well, the pain clearing the disorientation enough for Alfred to stand. His movements were still sluggish, and the sharp pain in his head was difficult to ignore, but his mind was mostly clear. Stepped towards Sey, he stared down at her, his face showing utterly no emotion...

...And then he held out his hand, as if offering to help her up.

“Get up and fight,” he demanded, his voice cold. “We need to finish this before we both burn to death.” Although his rage had faded as quickly as it started, all of Alfred’s earlier warmth was gone. Despite the courtesy evident in his current action, he was no longer the polite gentleman he had been prior to their fight. Gone also was the enthusiasm and simple love of the fight that he had shown when attempting to make the first move. As he stood above his opponent, looking down at her with cold eyes as a single drop of blood trickled slowly down his face, Alfred Churchill was nothing more than a brutal criminal.

He had no intention of killing his opponent, of course. Even ignoring the tournament’s rules, he preferred to avoid murder unless absolutely necessary, and his opponent had, to his knowledge, done nothing to deserve it. Nor would he resort to dirty fighting, as such would go against all of his standards. However, causing serious injury? If necessary, then so be it.

It was time to demonstrate why he stood among the Rampsmen.

[4]

And for some reason...

I was pleased.

Even with his senses dulled by the last traces of the magic from the kiss, Alfred had little trouble blocking Sey’s punch, instinctively raising his left hand to catch her fist. The impact pushed his arm back and jarred his shoulder painfully, but he was fine with that. Better than more of that damn magic, anyway, and certainly better than letting the punch connect.

Already finished? Pushing his opponent’s arm to the side, Alfred grinned, although his eyes remained utterly cold. “Glad you agree” he retorted, his voice louder but also still completely devoid of emotion.

Cocking his right arm back, he continued. “This fight was decided the moment you angered me.” And there was the truth behind the drastic change in his behaviour; despite his calm demeanour, Alfred was furious. A combination of the pain in his forehead, his annoyance at allowing himself to fall into Sey’s trap with the kiss, and the smoke and heat from the rapidly spreading fire starting to make it difficult to breathe had all contributed to his rage, until he had finally snapped.

Quickly, allowing Sey little time to react, Alfred thrust his right fist upwards, right towards her jaw. If this punch hit, he would then jump back, assuming the same stance as he had done at the start of the fight. He paid little notice to the fire, which had spread across a significant portion of the walls and ceiling, and was starting to do the same to the floor, igniting chairs and tables as it did so. At the moment, it was completely irrelevant to Alfred. Regardless of whether the fight was finished by his last attack, he had no intention of allowing it to continue long enough for the fire to reach them.

[5]

Alfred remained stationary as Sey fell to her knees, waiting for her to recover and stand up. Even consumed with cold fury as he was, he still had principles, and to attack when his opponent was down would be a major breach of them. “Still conscious, then? You’re stronger than you...”

Alfred trailed off midsentence as Sey raised her hand, this action and her words making it obvious to him what she was attempting. “Stop right there!” he yelled, stepping towards her with the intention of thrusting his left knee towards her face. His principles, it seemed, were dangerous to apply to such an opponent. He would have to remember that, if he wanted to progress further through the tournament.

Not fast enough. Before he could even so much as begin the knee thrust, the ball of light exploded against his face. Gasping in pain as his face was burned, Alfred stumbled back several paces, blinded by the light. So stupid, allowing himself to get caught by such an attack. Rushing directly into it had been a basic mistake, one that even his inexperience in the situation could not, in his view, justify.

Regaining his focus, Alfred glared at Sey, his anger finally starting to show on his face. If Sey did not take advantage of the opening his slow recovery from the blindness had left, he would remain where he now stood, about two meters away from her, and wait, not even taking a combat stance. He had been lucky to connect with the uppercut, he could see that now; against such an unfamiliar opponent, the best move would be to wait and react. He could only hope that whatever she would do next would be more easily avoided.

[6]

Recovering from the blindness right as Sey charged him, Alfred could not react in time to avoid the strike. He winced slightly as the punch hit his chest, but did not move. He had been fighting for a significant portion of his life, after all, and had taken hits from people much stronger than his current opponent.

And then the barrier broke.

As the flying shards cut into his skin, Alfred stumbled back, raising his arms to protect his face. He could ignore punches easily enough, he had experience with that, but cuts, especially in such number, were a different matter entirely. They were all shallow, yes, but, combined, they presented a problem.

More intolerable than the pain, however, was the damage to Alfred’s suit. He was not expecting it to come out of the fight in good condition, of course, a few tears and maybe a bloodstain or two were to be expected in combat. But this? Between the cuts the suit had sustained, even more numerous than those to Alfred’s skin, and the blood that now soaked it, it was beyond repair.

Alfred liked to think he was not a shallow man. Usually, this was correct. But there were times when, regrettably, he slipped from this. Were he not already angry, he would likely have ignored the damage. The suit was nice, yes, but it was far from his best. It was ruined, yes, but he could easily afford to replace it. In his normal state of mind, regardless of whether he was at rest or fighting, he would have ignored it entirely.

But now, when he was already furious? Now, he felt it. It fuelled his rage, driving him almost to the edge. If his mood had not been showing on his face after the blinding attack, it certainly was now. As he lowered his arms from his face, having successfully protected it from the shards of the barrier at the cost of increasing the damage to his arms, Alfred glared at Sey.

“I liked that suit, you know” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. Before he had even finished speaking, Alfred stepped forward, his left hand shooting towards Sey’s solar plexus. He would then step back, cocking his right arm back as he did so, before attempting a right punch to his opponent’s face.

[7]

Alfred jumped back as the spheres of light appeared. Whatever Sey was doing now, it would probably be a bad idea for him to ignore it and continue attacking. So he stood, about a meter away from her, ready to dodge at the first sign of an attack. His face had returned to a cold frown, his momentary spike of increased anger having been quelled by the success of his retaliation. At Sey’s words, however, his face changed again, this time splitting into a mocking grin.

“Yes, yes, mock me all you wish. It’s all meaningless, really. Just look at yourself, you’ve lost this fight already.” His grin widened as he beheld the injuries he had inflicted, satisfied with his work. “It’s odd, really. I neglected to tell you this before, but, as you may have deduced from the mistakes I’ve made, you are the first mage I’ve ever actually fought. Logically, the advantage was yours from the start. But look at yourself! You can’t even stand!” Relaxing his posture, he laughed, mockingly, before swiftly cutting this laughter short, his grin fading as his face returned to a grim stare, his body once again on edge. “I cannot say, of course, that this was an easy battle. You’ve done well, to injure me like this. But the victor is now clear. Try as you might, you cannot win.”

He paused for a second, as if thinking. “But...” His face relaxed slightly, his anger beginning to fade. “...I will admit that you have fought well. This fight has been most enjoyable, despite the... Unfortunate conditions.” He spread his arms, gesturing to the fires that now covered the majority of the tavern. “So come, do whatever you are still able to do. Throw those little spheres of light at me or something, what you do matters not. But please, if you still have it in you to fight, do so.” His voice was no longer cold, having begun returning to the tone it had prior to the fight. “Such a good fight deserves an equally good ending, after all.”

[8]