Round One [Assassin-vs-Paladin]-Judge Kris

[SikstaSlathalin]

ROUND ONE: Forbidden Library

Assassin-VS-Paladin

Judge: Kris



You are inside a big building with a sense of prohibition about it. The halls are huge but lifeless, specks of dusts and abandon spider webs are decorating the fading painting and the fragile looking stone statues.

While you can't learn much of this place, the huge shelves that contain train like lines of books allow you to understand that this used to be a place of great knowledge.

Perhaps a study area, a school of sort, or maybe even a forgotten in time Library.

While you admire the beauty of this place, the sensation is still eerie to say the least, as the rooms are lit almost unnaturally, with weak soft orbs that are attached to the walls, and by the graceful morning sun light that pierces through the windows.



The place is full of huge chambers, and even though they have some pieces of furniture, like a winged piano, or even desks and chairs, they are feeling rather empty. The trained eye will notice the small cracks in the building, hidden areas maybe?

But something is wrong. You know it, deep inside of you. Something is gazing at you from every direction, studying you, learning your movement. This place is not as empty as it seems to be... the energies of this place have been disturbed, maybe by you, or maybe it was the power that brought in here in the first place. Whatever it may be, you know there are many secrets to these halls, and while it is a worthy battle place, maybe disturbing it too much may also bring your downfall.

But when you see the look of the person before you, you realize you may not have much of a choice but to wreck this place up

---

You have 5 posts per person and 72 hours to respond between posts.
After making two posts, you need to wait for Kris to post before you can continue.
By the flip of a coin, Assassin will go first.

[Breggo13]

Solana blinked her long eyelashes, her gaze slowly catching the faint, almost non existent light around her from the soft, eerie orbs floating in the air, too far to touch but close enough that they allowed for details to appear. Bright morning light coming from dusty stain-glass windows echoed on the surfaces of ancient furniture from a time long forgotten by the world, remembered only through the songs of bards and the remaining artifacts such as the old piano. Taking in a deep breath, the vampire tasted the air with her tongue, trying to determine where she was. A muskiness, undisturbed by dust and relatively dry, the room had been undisturbed for centuries, slumbering peacefully and awaiting something. Red eyes glanced around her, trying to find something in the walls that would give away the location of a key - not in the strict sense of the word but a hint as to where she was and why.

The sense of being watched washed over her at once and the night creature bared her fangs in a distasteful scowl. Whoever it was, they sensed her presence and she felt too exposed, standing where she was with her hands free. The morning sun meant that her powers would start to wean with each passing minute, a curse of being the cursed she guessed. Older vampires, those turned and not born, spoke of their mortal life when the sun was welcoming, a protection against those who sought to survive by feeding upon people. A protective charm against those like her. On instinct, she pulled out her favorite blades, the weight of the steel comforting in her gloved fingers as her senses shifted to high alert. As always, the world seemed to slow and Solana felt the air thicken, sensing the information if carried - heat from a nearby body, a scent that was familiar but she was unable to identify from where, and a sense of dread. The last must have been coming from her own soul for as she looked upon the large warrior not far, the only exit from her current cage was, unfortunately, on the other side of her opponent.

“Sacre bleu,” the soft curse was a whisper in the wind, barely audible, hanging in the air as the vampire moved, trying to move faster than light and disappear in the shadows of the bookcases. Hidden against the walls, the huge oaken structures were filled with old books and scrolls, cobwebs and dust. Her feet moved silently on the worn cobblestones, eyes glancing up at the morning light coming from a window not far. Cursed morning, she had little time and the door was still a way away. As she moved in between two bookcases, her red eyes took in the names on the spines of old books - languages she couldn’t read or didn’t know. Gibberish. Mysteries. Secrets. Nothing that resembled a key. Biting her lip, Solana traced a finger down the spine of one book, revealing faded golden letters in a foreign alphabet.

Focus, a voice, cold and sharp snapped in her mind, an echo from the past that she didn’t remember. You are an assassin, the daughter of the night. You need to survive and get out. All means are acceptable to reach a goal and you know that, LaCroix. Grimacing - something told her that the owner of the voice usually made their lessons stick with sticks and whips - the vampire rolled her shoulders, focusing on the figure before her and observing his movements, her nostrils taking in the sweet scent of fresh blood - lifesaving blood. Letting out a quiet breath, she fiddled with a dagger in her hand, waiting for the right moment to strike. Sliding her foot across the ground and feeling her path while she kept her target in focus, she continued to move in the shadows, hoping to flank the man. Surprise, stealth and a strike in the back was her everything...

[RedKayne]

The Dark Avenger

---

My life is a curse.

It was as if another voice spoke from within his consciousness. He couldn't even tell if it was his own. The solemn entity reached out from the gray fog of lost memories, wispy fingers failing to reconnect with his true self. However, those grim words gouged deeply into his heart, tearing through the roots of his soul. There was an anguished cry before a sudden light overcame him.

The Steel then awakened.

Brutus MacTavish opened his weary eyes and took upon the scenery before him. It was a large and majestic place with an eerie sense of foreboding dread. The Paladin's eyes wandered around and noticed that the room was artificially bright. The orbs, positioned at the walls, didn't yield any blazing radiance but instead displayed dying embers. The morning sunrays seeped through the windowpanes from across the room, although it didn't promise the warm atmosphere of a new day.

The Paladin stood between the end of two bookshelves, which climbed several feet against the stone walls. Countless tomes filled the shelves; religious scriptures, biographies of lords and ladies, and medical compendiums rested with their tales and secrets. However, they didn't appear to be disturbed in recent history due to the cobwebs that covered them.

This place is a curse.

Something is watching me, something most unholy, Brutus felt the coldness at the back of his neck, his warrior's intuition greatly alarmed. I may have lost my memories, but I haven't lost my touch, he was thankful that his developed battle senses haven't been tarnished by the memory loss. Therefore, he could discern there were two different presences in the room. The first one was intangible yet ever-so-watchful and sinister. Be ye' ghost or be ye' demon, I will eradicate you, the Paladin was unafraid of any darkness.

His dark-brown eyes scanned across the red carpet and cobblestones to meet the crimson stare of the second presence. A raven-haired woman, scantily clad in black attire, stood within the shadows. She was already prepared for combat and held two elegant daggers. However, Brutus barely paid any heed towards her weapons and instead focused on her blood-red eyes. The eyes of an undead parasite.

That woman is a curse.

A sharp pulsation throbbed across MacTavish's face. The grizzled man grimaced in pain and raised a hand to touch the scar that traversed over his right eye. There was no recollection on the scar's origins but he can only assume a vampire caused it. Or perhaps, he lowered his hand and his sight narrowed at the creature, This scar is warning me that she is a menace and must be exterminated.

Brutus estimated that the bloodsucking vampire was roughly twelve feet away, which was a distance most humans wouldn't find too comfortable. However, despite losing most of his memories during his time in the Order, Brutus was still knowledgeable of many unholy creatures and their intricacies. He deduced that the vampiress was greatly weakened by the rising sun, which was more evident with her cautious demeanor.

The Scotsman's lips subtly curled up, barely expressing a mixture of gratitude and cockiness. I normally don't need the luck of the sunlight, but its always appreciated. The Paladin flexed his left arm and tested the weight of the shield strapped across his forearm. A flanged mace hung from the left side of his waist while a small leather pouch clasped at the opposite side of his belt.

It's a damn shame that window is at the other end of the aisle, Brutus glanced at the window way behind the undead before he surprisingly turned away from his opponent. "Interesting," he shifted his body towards the bookshelf and presented a very vulnerable position to the vampiress. He browsed through the spines of several books until one particular title caught his eye.

He nonchalantly grabbed the item and dared to disturb the untouched contents. He skimmed over the cover of the black leather book, "Interesting, what a coincidence," he said aloud as he further examined the hardcover with silver-letter engravings. The book was small and thick, barely any bigger than his hand outstretched, but probably three-hundred pages in length. "The Cure for Vampirism," he declared the title and cast a side-eye towards the woman to gauge her reaction.

"I think I'll keep this as a memento," Brutus smiled darkly and then opened his pouch, swiftly dropping the book into the small bag.

"Well then, shall we start?"

The Steel then unleashed chaos.

Immediately, his smirk fell and he abruptly took a large step away from the monstrosity. He latched onto the side-end of the structure with both hands and pulled down with all of his might. The towering bookshelf creaked loudly and fell forward, it's heavy momentum intending to crash down upon the vampiress. Books violently scattered everywhere and further disturbed the once peaceful room.

All of this happened while Brutus MacTavish, the Steel Paladin, viciously glared upon the abomination.

Your existence is nothing but a bane to the living. I sentence you to a true death.

[Breggo13]

The paladin was huge, a true mountain of a man clad in armour and wielding strength befitting a bear. From his scars and the set furrowing of his brow that brought two bushy eyebrows into one, Solana wouldn’t be surprised if one of the man’s ancestors had, in fact, been a bear at one point - a rather ugly red coated one with tufts of its fur missing and glued onto his ancestor’s face. Standing between her and the exit, the warrior woke up and looked around him, his armour creaking and clanking like the wheels in a poorly oiled machine but the assassin had long trained to know that anything could be deceiving. Pushing the limits of her eyesight, she picked up an ancient faint symbol etched onto the armour, worn out on one side and covered in numerous faint scratches. Frowning, Solana shook her head in denial and took half a step forward, trying to get a better look…

The library gave a low rumble as the Paladin disturbed its ancient peace. Ducking slightly, the vampire hissed, eyes narrowing as the brute flipped open a book, showing her some page. Was he so daft that he believed all vampires were made? That they were spirits trapped in some bloodthirsty form and forever seeking victims? Humans were so arrogant, telling tall tales in the night, disregarding the world’s unique nature and the gift of life - unique life - that was spread across all. Not all vampires were created by monsters and not all monsters were worthy of the valiant name vampire! Ignoring the feeling of a third party observing them with some subdued anger, she was about to tell the oaf exactly where she thought he could stuff his newfound book when….

“Bordel del merdre,” Solana dived out of the way of the bookshelf, her instincts propelling her lithe body away from the direct attack and out of the man’s view behind a stone shelf into the darkness of the room where the floating lights refused to go. Bracing herself into a roll on impact and crouching low on one knee even before the large dust storm started to settle, the vampire used a forearm to protect her eyes as pounds of dust and dirt erupted in the air, disturbed by the large wooden bookcases and the various literature jumping off the shelves and landing onto the floor, adding only more chaos to the air. Trying not to breathe in any of the debris in the air, Solana slashed off a piece of her tunic, exposing ivory smooth skin and wrapped it around the bottom of her face. “Quel dégénéré,” she muttered, letting her eyes adjust to her new location. At the very least the sudden disturbance of the library hid her movement from view.

The assassin’s trained body acted on its own accord without Solana needing to think twice about it. Her motions became smooth and soundless, moving through air without so much as a whisper, her heart slowing down and becoming a well-timed metronome, perfectly measuring each second with a steady bah-dum, her muscles coiling up like springs and her balance shifting to be on the balls of her feet, ready to move like a shadow at the snap of the fingers. Wiping the corner of her mouth on the back of her hand, her eyes caught their own pale reflection in the tempered steel. As she stared into her own red eyes, a pair of green eyes appeared, judging her, paler and less bright. Before she could react, two blue tear-filled ones faded weakly into view on the other side, then frightened brown ones, an amber glare and more and more and more. Eyes widening, Solana couldn’t look away, her grip tightening on the leather handles of her blades but, with a blink the vision was gone.

Quelle bonne horreur, the vampire thought grimly, as she pushed the vision and confusion away. Something about the various gazes that echoed in her blade pulled at the threads of the past, her forgotten past, bringing forth pain and...shame? Shaking her head, she counted to five silently, letting her mind return to the sense of peace she had felt. As the dust slowly started to settle, she sensed the building around her respond with creaks and groans, almost as though it was slowly being woken up from its slumber. Somewhere far off, a bit of the stone ceiling crumbled, the sound echoing around the chamber and, Solana scoffed quietly, probably off of the Paladin’s armour and within his head. Looking around her, the red eyes locked onto the top of a heavy bookcase beside her, securely locked into place by thick iron casts at the bottom and while it would probably be tipped over should the Paladin decide to put his back into it, it would make him break not only sweat but also some blood.

Deciding that the higher vantage point was her best bet and would at the very least allow her for greater maneuver, the assassin started to climb, digging her daggers quietly into the wood and hissing soundlessly when a stray splinter decided to impale itself into her skin. As she made it to the top, Solana crouched low, watching the man below her and planning her next move. Yes, choosing to climb up to higher ground was certainly the correct choice.

[RedKayne]

Apex

---

Heh, she's quick on her feet, the Steel Paladin stood back upright as the vampiress dove away from the falling bookshelf. It violently collapsed against the ground and a dust cloud erupted from the shattered furniture, rising to near-shoulder level. The tall soldier neglected to screen his face from the dusty air while he observed the debris spread throughout the aisle.

If the overwatching entity was angered by the disturbance of the battle's commencement, it didn't display any imminent aggression. Yet, Brutus couldn't trust that the omnipresent adversary to remain silent forever. He would rather slay the vampire quickly and then deal with the library's owner, unless if he could discover a way to kill two birds with one stone.

Seemingly unbothered by his opponent's escape, Brutus maneuvered around the fallen structure. He took imprudent steps while walking around the collapsed furniture, crushing and crumbling books beneath his heavy greaves. The dust cloud began to settle as he concluded his semi-circle movement and reached the center of the aisle.

Lassie probably thinks I'm off my damn trolley, the Scotsman smirked and strode down the red carpet between the two rows of intact bookshelves. That dumb bitch doesn't realize she fell for my plan and cleared my way, his eyes focused on a new target across the room.

I do find it interesting, he reflected upon his bold discovery of the cure for vampirism and assessed her initial reaction. I didn't see any desperation in those eyes. I would expect an undead parasite to act recklessly and launch itself at that book, desperate to take the cure for a chance at a mundane life.

Could she tell I was lying? Brutus pondered while taking nonchalant, heavy footsteps across the crimson carpet. His shield remained at waist-level but prepared to raise in case of a surprise attack, while his free hand tightly held onto the grip of his mace. His eyes shifted left and right, keeping track of the gaps between bookshelves in preparation for an ambush.

No, I doubt she could tell the book's actual title from her distance and angle, instead... After making his deceitful claim, Brutus focused on those abominable red eyes which divulged anger. Did she felt insulted? But why? Does she feel prideful of being a bloodsucking leech? Does she scoff at the idea of taking a cure?

The Paladin navigated around the winged piano and formed another sly smile. Although he couldn't use the book to manipulate her emotions, he could still find ways to provoke her and use that anger against her. After many years on the battlefield, he understands that emotional opponents are far easier to deal with because they become reckless and incur costly mistakes.

Finally, the Steel reached his position and before the majestic sight. The towering windowpane stood nearly three-times the height of the armored warrior. Sunrays seeped through the stained glass yet couldn't completely penetrate through the odd-shaped panes. Brutus could assume that the framework has been untouched since its creation, but unfortunately, that would come to an end.

Brutus turned his head back for one last glance to see if the creature intended to strike. There weren't any immediate indications, and so he drew his flanged mace and raised it high above his head before he swung down in a cleave-like motion. The window immediately shattered outward upon impact as the head of the mace cleared through its trajectory.

The Paladin pulled back his weapon and nodded in approval at his handiwork, creating a funnel-shaped hole that nearly covered the bottom half of the framework. The crystalline structure was cracked throughout and jagged pieces of glass continued to crumble and fall.

The Steel accomplished his objective.

Pure sunlight, from the unknown outside world, beamed through the manmade opening. The room itself became brighter and several shadows were dispersed from the bright rays, further confining the vampiress's hiding areas. There were still dark corners and hidden spaces for the Assassin to maneuver through, but her movements were even more restricted due to the direct sunlight.

The undead creature probably expected to play a deadly cat-and-mouse game with the Paladin, intending to ambush him from the darkness and slit his throat. Brutus turned his body to face the rest of the room, his silhouette contrasting against the brilliant dawn outside. The vampiress would soon realize that she was the prey in this story and that the Steel Paladin was the apex predator.

[Kris]

At first there is a soft melody, a gentle note as a piano key is hit by unseen force.

Maybe a stray gust of wind?

But could it be so?

Then there is on growing melody sung by someone without any body.

And the music increases with majestic melody that quickly turns to a dreadful song. The piano is moving by itself as the pictures in the hall raise to life. The stone idols open their eyes and mouth, and start to move about, their expression is of anger and sorrow.

The books are also being thrown at you, along with other decorations that are found within the hall.

It seems that you will need to fight more things aside of each other.

---

The magical place raises to life, as you are gaining an additional challenge to your arena.
From here on out, you are on your own.

Each of you have 3 posts left to finish this battle and 72 hours to post in between.
Good Luck, I'll be judging you soon.

[Breggo13]

Solana’s mouth twisted into a grimace of sorrow as the sound of shattering glass echoed around the hall, delicate old stained glass frescos, much older than her own prolonged eternity, crumbling into shards and broken bits, their history lost and distorted. From her hiding spot, the red eyes looked upon the triumphant silhouette of the man with pity as a priest looks upon the damned that refuses to accept the lord and seeks no redemption. As the sunlight seeped into the room, harsh and unyielding, Solana felt her heart squeeze with pain and horror – horror at the destruction that men could wield so easily.

The sense of dread was something that came floating back from the depths of her memory, a soundless echo, and a blanket of cold helplessness. People always seemed so carefree about what they destroyed – lives, destinies, peace, fate. Anything they touched crumbled to dust and disrepair, echoing in their complete believe that they were the only beings worth walking the world yet they were helpless. They claimed to believe in some mystical being who would grant them assistance, claiming her kind and other creatures as the destroyers of the world, determined to eliminate any creature of the night that they saw. Men like the brute before her obviously thought themselves invincible and believed that things like her were senseless, driven only by emotion and animal like instincts. A sad smile graced her features – were that the case, Solana would already be running at him, tackling him with saliva dripping from her fangs onto his helpless skin.

The room seemed to be attuned with her pain and the first note of the piano resonated the air, a dagger cutting through to the vampire’s heart and lodging itself in her flesh. Letting out a gasp and doubling over, the assassin chocked on a pain filled howl ready to erupt, echoing the music and crying at the loss of some ancient history. Whatever spirit was at hand here, it was more attuned to her than she realized. Either it was another child of the night or she could not withstand its call with her strength sapping. From her vantage, bent over, she had a perfect view as the room unfolded its hidden power, slowly coming to life. In the corridor, paintings took their first breathe, floating down to the floor and starting forward towards them or rather, Solana allowed herself a pleased smirk, towards the paladin. Although she was sure the ghosts knew of her presence, she was still behind the man’s figure and, if she could guess, the room punished in a first find first serve fashion.

The air started to fill with flying books and scrolls, all of them sweeping across the room like birds of prey, circling and creating various patterns, leaving trails of dust behind that saturated the air. Grateful for her improvised mask, Solana leaned closer to the smooth wooden surface of the bookcase, shrinking her target as a few smaller books came to explore her hideout, pinching and cutting with their pages. Slicing through them with mild annoyance and wincing as the small scratches ached, she turned towards her opponent, frowning. Now was her chance – for the moment, he was distracted with the room and if she wanted to attack it was as good as it was going to get. Sliding her throwing knife in front of her, the assassin narrowed her eyes, slowing her breathing and preparing to throw. Her mind went cold, calculating and predicting every motion but this time, Solana made an effort not to look at the cold metal in her hand.

A breathe and…..

WHACK.

The blade flew with precision, unwavering and unchanging, hitting its mark true and pinning it to the wall. The scroll, creeping up on the Paladin and about to wrap around his neck in an attempt to choke him, trembled and fought but soon went silent, the assassin’s dagger with her personal mark on it embedded in the walls of the library. Slowly, Solana returned her hand back, shocked. She had been aiming at the man, she had noted the motions and was planning on seeing the hilt tremble triumphant from his eye socket, already apologizing and practically forgetting he ever existed. Her body had other plans – at the last feasible second, she changed targets, revealing her location and putting herself at risk once more. Did she simply fear the reflection of his rage filled eyes in her blade?

[RedKayne]

A Conviction to Victory

---

That boy is a curse...

The melancholy sonata resounded throughout the small cottage. Small, frail, childlike fingers danced across the keyboard; the left hand playing an octave while accompanied by the right hand's triplet figuration. The young boy, no older than ten years, sat at the wooden piano bench and solemnly performed the song. At this point, every movement was muscle memory and the notes were beautifully performed. Yet, despite the incredible mechanical performance by the juvenile, there was no passion. No conviction.

The mother stood at the corner of the plain room and nodded in approval at her offspring's musical progress. Her brilliant sapphire eyes, which matched her light-blue tunic, always observed the boy and ensured his obedience. There was no question about the son's destiny and she will do everything in her power to upraise the child to become a musical prodigy. She could vividly imagine a future filled with greatness as her son will achieve fame and fortune beyond the dreams of his underprivileged farmer parents.

That was her dream, her delusion, for her son.

"Mother, I want to be a hero," the boy's prepubescent high-pitched voice gently rang in the room, but his lips oddly never moved to form the words. A gray fog began to enter the area. "I want to become a hero like the Paladins! I want to join the Order of the Steel when I grow up."

"Nonsense," his mother's sweet yet firm voice echoed in the memory world. Her lips never moved either and the fog became denser. "Are you trying to give your mother dearest a heart attack?" There was a soft chuckle. "You need to keep up your practice. You'll become a legend through music, instead."

"I don't want to play the piano anymore, mother. Father said that a true man does his best to protect the lives of others. I want to inspire soldiers in their fight against the forces of darkness." The two of them were hardly visible anymore and only their silhouettes could be seen through the haze. "I want to become the new Steel and lead the Order. I want to become a hero of justice and a beacon of light for those that lost hope. This is the dream I dream of, mother, and not live a life shackled to this silly-"

What a fuckin' stupid memory.

Brutus banished away his former life and then glared at the reality before him. He scowled over to the winged piano, only a few feet away, which disturbingly played a composition without a pianist. However, Brutus's silent anger overcame any feelings of uneasiness, for that melody reawakened memories that he longed to forget. The Paladin's younger-self was a weak and pathetic boy, filled with naive ideals that he can only look back now with disdain.

His grim life has changed since then... but onto the battle.

My life is a curse.

The library awakened with a vengeance. The piano gradually changed the dynamic of the song and finished the crescendo with a fortissimo effect. Several books flew from the shelves and hunted for the nearest prey, and the sorrowful statues joined in the search to destroy the intruders. The assassin was nowhere in sight, and so the animated objects turned their gaze to the warrior stationed near the shattered window.

"Ah, this is the game we're playing now," Brutus formed another cocky smirk. He formed a battle stance; he raised his shield in front of his torso to block any frontal attacks and then tightened the grip of his mace. He counted nearly six stone idols that were approaching, along with numerous books that hovered in the air. The assassin was still unaccounted and she could still ambush the Scotsman at any point.

The Paladin's odds seemed incredibly disadvantageous. However, he had no intention of dying in this god-forsaken place. He was the Steel and the last surviving member of the prestigious Order. Therefore, he had the obligation to serve as a bastion between humanity and the dark forces of this world. Furthermore, if he couldn't become humanity's protector, he will become its dark avenger and commence an eternal crusade against every wicked creature.

"Come on," Brutus defiantly thumped his left fist against his chest. "I'll bloody kill every single one of you." He heard the sound of paper fluttering towards his left, coming from a gap between the shelves, but he also caught movement from near the top of the furniture towards his right. He saw a sliver of metal and reactively raised his shield to protect his face, but he heard an object thump beside him instead.

He glanced to his side and saw a dagger embedded itself against the peeled wallpaper, only a few inches away from the window's colored glass. An animated scroll was pierced by the blade and basically 'died' in front of Brutus's eyes and no longer a threat. What the blazin'...? He turned his head to the origination of the elegant dagger and finally discovered the assailant's position.

That woman is a curse.

Those abominable crimson eyes were widened with shock, almost in disbelief of her action that assisted her opponent. A ripped piece of the vampiress's black tunic was wrapped around the lower half of her chiseled face, apparently to breathe better in the previous duststorm. She had the element of surprise to grievously injure her opponent but it was wasted. But why? Is she off her trolley?

Brutus squinted his beady brown eyes in suspicion, "Lassie, is this your idea for a truce?" he questioned aloud as he lowered his shield and simultaneously reformed another smirk. He raised his mace and pointed towards the stone idols, "Perhaps we should get rid of these things before resuming our battle?" he offered in a nonchalant tone but held his devious facial expression.

"And you gave me an extra weapon, how kind of you," he referred to the dagger and noted it could be used for future use. "Daggers aren't my thing though. Too tiny," he chuckled despite the ever-present dangers before him. The stone idols started to maneuver around the winged piano, which was only a few short feet away from the Paladin.

Althewhile still upholding a casual and cocky attitude, Brutus performed another surprising action and clipped the flanged mace back to his belt. It was a very curious tactic considering he didn't have any offensive weapons to immediately handle the animated artwork.

"And unfortunately, I don't work well with others."

The Steel then made his move.

The sunlight beamed around his figure as he launched himself towards the piano set. In those few precious seconds, he made multiple moves. His right greave slammed against the piano bench while his left fist made an inward-to-outward swipe against the wooden stick, which originally propped the piano lid open. The stick instantly snapped from the force and then there was a loud crash as the lid collapsed onto the instrumental set, muffling the music. His right hand reached towards his left arm and onto the shield clasps as his left foot stomped onto the lid.

He essentially made the piano set a stepping platform to execute his next scheme. He ran a couple of steps across the lid before leaping towards the center of the aisle, practically soaring over the angry statues. However, his gaze never left the assassin's position. His true target was still four-to-five arms lengths away and completely out of reach. Since Brutus projected his leap over the center of the lane, his body wasn't aiming towards the vampiress. Even if he wielded his mace, he wouldn't be able to close the gap and strike an efficient blow.

Therefore, he's improvising.

His right hand finished unclasping the shield and then quickly gripped onto the metallic edge. In midair, he corked his torso and bent his right arm across his face, the kite shield a couple of inches behind his head. In one smooth motion, he threw the shield which spun and sheared across the air. At a point-blank range, Brutus felt confident that the shield would bash against the woman's head. He replayed the image in his mind and can easily foresee the attack leaving behind a deep gash and a dazed opponent.

There was a clear difference between both projectile attacks of Solana and Brutus. The vampiress was much more sophisticated and accurate, yet she lacked the conviction to slay her opponent. Brutus's throw was much more unorthodox in style, especially considering that he sacrificed his strongest defense in the hopes of landing a detrimental blow. He didn't have a strong throwing arm and instead relied upon the large size of his shield and the close distance to increase the probability of a successful attack.

However, the clear contrast between the two adversaries... the Steel stayed true to his conviction in this match and intended to carry out the death sentence.

[Kris]

Breggo been given an extension until the end of the week.

[Breggo13]

“Fis a putain, licheor plain d'anvie,” Solana’s eyes narrowed in anger as she watched in practical slow motion as the man charged, pushing off the piano with and leaping through the air. Her eyes widened as she watched him grab his shield and her body reacted faster than she could have thought. Allowing her instincts to take over, she moved with lightning speed to avoid the improvised missile, her form seeming to blur in motion as she rolled off the top, dropping down silently to the grounds before the man finished his flight and rolling behind the rubble. Up above, she sensed the shield impale into the wall and vibrate, echoing the disappointment his owner probably felt just then as his opponent once again evaded the attack.

Keeping her breathe quiet and pushing the adrenaline away, Solana crouched low in the shadows, her mind tracking all the comossion around her with a cold, calculating gaze. Books flew around like hungry birds of prey, statues and shadows continuing to hunt for whoever was disturbing the peace of the old catacombe-like library. Between the stained glass window that was now shattered, the sturdy columns of simple. Graceful design, the old bookshelves and the piano where the music was broken for a few moments before resuming more aggressively and violently, it was obvious that the place was not about to let one of them walk out alive. Biting her lower lip until her fang pierced her skin, she grimaced. At least the man of steel couldn’t smell blood like she could.

Moving quickly, another knife in hand, Solana flanked the man steadily and silently, slipping among the shadows where she melted into the background. She had been crazy to save his life - if anything else attacked him, she would feel no more remorse. If anything, she was about to assist the spirit of this place to face the paladin and his archaic ideals. Assassins were valuable professionals, vampirist or not. And although she questioned her current situation, she was proud that not a single stray person had suffered at her hand. Only her targets and only those who needed to be disposed of. That was the stroke of a true master, a true assassin and she was darn proud to be one of the few who could establish their mark. Weighing her dagger in her hand, she prepared to strike from the flang, obscured from sight.