An Unexpected Reunion (Duke of Clubs)

OoC: I almost decided to use Ancia, but as Awky can tell you, I have troubled getting inspired to write with her. So, yeah, you're stuck with the ol' teacher this time. I wanted to give her another battle.

And before I start, a timeline note for me: this comes right before "On the Sandy Streets".

IC:
It was a particularly dark and dusty night in the town of Agra on which Cadenza was preparing to commence the last leg of her journey home. The whole trip, taken at her sisters’ firm command, had been quite an ordeal thus far; facing off against a marauding band of pirates at Bellavista Port, exchanging blows with cutthroats and rogues in the Fortrylle Forest, and worst yet, in Cadenza’s biased opinion, confronting policemen all throughout the country of Cernilia. And to make matters worse, during the entire course of her journey, she had had a tracking device planted somewhere undetectable, either on or in her person, by her crafty sisters, which, much to her distress, caused a ringing tone to wail incessantly in her ears. The noise only grew louder if she tried to stray from the way home. Oh, she had thought when she had made that unpleasant discovery, if only Algretta had put her scientific genius to a better use.

She found herself now plunked down upon a tall-legged chair at the Windy Gulch tavern, garbed in a shapeless, sand-colored cloak which she had thrown over her usual attire. Her dagger and feathers were close at hand, stored within her pockets, but her bow and arrows rested untouched on her back; as if she believed or hoped she would no longer have to use them. The only part of her relatively gaunt face not obscured by the cloak’s cowl was her chin, and her windswept, pale lips, which had lost their flush of color due to harsh weather and malnourishment.

Despite her miserable mood, and somewhat disheveled appearance, the bartender and several men around her relentlessly attempted to woo her throughout the evening, insisting that if he could get her languid eyes to light up with the sparkle of a smile, it would make their night.

In response to the barkeep’s overtures, Cadenza had bluntly replied, “Quit sucking up my air and pour me the cheapest, strongest stuff you got,” and slammed down one fifteen-zecca, azure coin on the dark wood surface of the bar.

As the bartender huffed indignantly and turned to fetch the drink, Cadenza’s attention turned, as all the other patrons’ did, to a newcomer at the door. The man’s figure was outlined by the moonlight, cutting a sharp silhouette, and the gypsy could not help but feel he looked familiar. When he stepped out into the dim, orange-tinted light of the tavern, recognition came to her with an incredulous gaping of the mouth and the utterance of a curse.

The young man was none other than her student, Kellson.

Cadenza hunkered down in her corner chair as he made his way to the counter, silently cursing her luck. Great, all I needed was someone here to ridicule what a pathetic mess I am right now. As if the infernal ringing wasn’t enough.

Kellson ordered a drink and took a seat at the bar. With him, Cadenza observed, he had brought his usual weapons. She had been told once by Hashem Kiyumars or some other authority at the Dome that her student was a regicide, and undoubtedly that must have been the nature of his business in this region. Agra was very close to Cernilia—perhaps he was here to kill the blasted emperor. It would put a smile on her face, to say the least, even if it were likely to just be wishful thinking. It was more probable that he was going to kill one of the Blancwood nobles, or even the Rubatoian king himself. And with that idea, she had some issue.

The irksome bartender returned with her drink, rattling off the brand and the year which fell upon disinterested ears. As she lifted her mug to drink, she sensed Kellson studying her with a sidelong glance, and she froze.

Don’t tell me he’s recognized me.

OoC: Bah, it's a little on the short side, but it gets the idea across, I think.

The door slammed open, rattling in its hinges. The various disheveled occupants of the bar swiveled as one towards the entranceway. The man reached up and threw his hood off, shaking out his shaggy brown hair. Shouldering his crossbow, Kellson dipped his head slightly in acknowledgement to the unified attention of the men and women, grinning to himself. Hey, ladies and gentlemen, if you’re looking at me when I walk through the door, you’ll be proclaiming me god when I actually get to work. Maybe that was what it was like to be famous.

The regicide stalked to the bar, shrugging off his coat and tossing it on a hook absentmindedly. “Get me something,” he drawled, taking a stool by the bar.

“Get you what” the bartender asked, turning to the long shelves of alcohol.

“Something, anything. Whatever’s cheap.” The bartender handed him a glass of golden-brown liquid—hopefully beer—and filled another glass, taking it over to a woman hunched over in the corner. Kellson glanced over, eyes half-closed, watching them. The barman launched into a long-winded description of the fine quality of his product. Kellson tuned him out, staring into space, taking the occasional draught of the beer.

How much was he being paid for this? He had sneered at the contact’s list of local noblemen and the amount he would pay for their untimely deaths. It wasn’t even the money Kellson scoffed at; why kill a baron or count when there were much bigger fish to fry in the same country? Forget a duke, he had laughed to the employer, tossing the list away. Let me go after the head honcho himself.

It made sense. No one would dare to even think about killing a really powerful king. He’d be content, placid, resting on the fruits of his success as a ruler, and then BAM. Another notch on the crossbow and another bag of cash in his pocket.

Abruptly, Kellson did a late double-take, looking back towards the woman in the corner. She’d be about six or seven inches shorter than he was, give or take. Sort of petite. Bow and arrows on her back…the entire getup seemed familiar.

Hadn’t Cadenza Madrigal been from Rubato? He couldn’t quite remember. Kellson watched as she turned her head to look at him, stiffened, and quickly looked away. The demi-angel’s expression didn’t change. He flagged the bartender down again, tossed him a few more coins, and called loudly, “Something for the lady in the back. She looks like she’s been through hell and back.”

The barman fumbled the coins and began filling up another glass with beer. Kellson held out a hand. “Not that. That stuff tastes like piss. Something good. The lady looks like she’s about to die and drinking more of this stuff will probably finish her off.”

Murmuring rippled through the crowd. The beer here did taste like piss, true enough, but saying it to the bartender’s face was asking for a beating. Kellson idly pulled a long knife from his bandolier and slammed it into the hard wood of the counter. “Something good,” he said again.

The bartender nodded coldly. “It’s just under here.” He reached under the counter and started to pull something out. Kellson leaped from the chair, sending it flying backwards. Springing easily over the counter, he punched the man in the face with a fist ringed with brass. A crack echoed through the room and several people winced. One man quickly downed the last of his ale, tossed the mug away, and sped out the door. Smart man, Kellson thought, removing his knife from the counter. His arm moved blurred and the knife appeared in the man’s chest. Swiping a bottle from the shelf, Kellson smashed it down on the stricken man’s head, sending him crashing to the ground, dead as a doornail.

Breathing normally, he flipped over the counter once more and strode to the door. Pausing by a quivering old man, he leaned over the table and asked, voice echoing through the silent tavern, “Which way’s the king’s castle?”

The man shakily pointed.

“Thank you, my good man,” Kellson said, touching his forelock in salute and slinging his coat over his shoulder. “I’ve got a king to kill. G’night.”

He turned to look at the woman in the corner once more. She wasn’t there. He grinned and stepped outside.

Ah, the cool night air! All the sweeter for knowing that before the week’s end the world would be less a king. Humming to himself, Kellson strolled down the street. “Breathe the air tonight my friend, ‘cause tomorrow you’ll be dead.”

He stopped by a street corner, grinning once more. “Evening, Cadenza. You’re looking worse for the wear, which is saying something.”

Cadenza snarled at the remark. "Charming as usual, I see. You fit right in with all the tactless bastards in this town."

Kellson laughed in response. "Just the sort of warm greeting I'd expect from you." He waved her off dismissively with a pass of his hand. "I don't have time to stay and chat, teach, I've got some business to attend to."

Even as he walked away, the gypsy retorted. "Yes, killing the king, I heard," she said, her voice taking on an even stronger inflection of contemptuous sarcasm. "It would have been hard to miss your arrogant little announcement at the bar."

A smirk appeared on the young man's face, but he continued on walking, disregarding Cadenza's words. Several paces now behind him, Cadenza's face was regaining a hint of color, but it was more of an infuriated red than a healthy, glowing tan.

"Listen idiot!" she shouted over the ringing in her ears, "that king of ours is one of the few decent leaders in this whole region! He may have mucked up a few things in the past, but he’s improved over the years, and he's not some oppressive despot like the ruler of the nation just north of here. So if you really intend to kill him, then I don't give a crap where I know you from--I'll be at your back, foiling you until you leave in frustration."

At those words, the weary woman drew her dagger from its sheathe in her pocket and brandished it, waiting for a reply from her student who had now spun back around.

"He's a decent king, huh?" Kellson asked, eyeing the blade in his teacher's hand. "Amazing. Ignoring the oxymoron, you should know that I don't give a damn. You do your job and I'll do mine."

"My job right now," hissed Cadenza, "is stopping you."

"Find another king, Cadenza," Kellson said, turning dismissively and starting down the road again. "This one's as good as dead...pfft...as if you could stop me, anyways. Going to fall over in exhaustion on me?"

He heard footsteps behind him, and then a bladepoint at his neck. He stopped, chuckling. "Hey, you're right. You are at my back!"

The bladepoint pressed harder. "Just leave," she growled. "Go find someone else to murder."

Kellson spun around and grabbed her wrist, staring intently into her eyes. "Let me think about that for a second...no."

Twisting her arm, he flipped her onto the ground. She hit the cobblestones with a thud, groaning. Christ, he sighed, she's not even worth the effort. Poor woman. Standing over her, Kellson fingered a knife thoughtfully. "Now, you might not take our past partnership into account, but I will. I mean, this amulet...good God, this thing's amazing. I don't eat, I don't sleep. I don't need it! It's incredible. You, on the other hand, really could use a good meal and twelve solid hours of shut-eye. I guess I owe you for that field trip, so I'll repay you by not stepping on your neck right now. Savvy?"

Without waiting for a reply, he turned on his heel and started walking away once more. "Stop!" she yelled. He did, against his better judgement. Cadenza stood, fingers curled around the hilt of her dagger.

"Good grief," Kellson murmured. "Aren't we tenacious? Hey, if it's a fight you're looking for, you'll get one, and then some. Either way, I'm not leaving this country without that king's head on a platter."

"If you're not careful, you'll leave this country in a body bag," she replied coldly.

Kellson grinned, nodded, and spread his hands. "I don't even need weapons," he laughed mockingly. "Bring it on, teach."

Cadenza snatched a canteen from under her cloak and pried it open, drinking greedily of the cool, opalescent blue liquid stored inside. When finished, she simply wiped her mouth with a sleeve and smiled.

"Just what I needed," she said with a refreshed sigh.

Kellson raised a puzzled eyebrow.

The gypsy ignored the facial expression from her student, her concentration having reverted back to the fight about to be at hand to weigh her options. While the woman disliked hand-to-hand, she knew it would be wise to preserve her magic for when, as these street brawls invariably did, things got out of control. Her old student hadn't seen her newer spells, and they would prove invaluable as surprise attacks when in a bind. And so with magic being saved, and distance too scarce for her bow, the method to use was clear.

Cadenza began dashing in on a slant towards Kellson, dagger grasped in her right hand reflecting back the gleam in her eyes. Suddenly, meters before she reached him, she leapt up into the air, becoming a blur of flowing violet fabric and bronzed dancer's legs sailing onto the yellow-and-chartreuse-striped canopy of a produce stand. For once, Kellson was surprised; it had seemed as if the woman hadn't had ample enough energy to even stay upright before, leading her student to wonder what sort of mysterious elixir could have been swirling about in the leather canteen from her cloak. Before he had a chance to make any deductions, the woman darted down at him, her dagger tearing through his left sleeve and cutting into the flesh of his arm.

Restraining a yelp of pain, Kellson grabbed Cadenza's wrist and at point-blank blasted the gypsy away with blinding light, the burst like a brilliant super-nova in the gloom of the Agra streets. The woman was sent hurdling backwards into a knot of earthenware garbage bins, and hit them with a resounding thump! Her student laughed heartily at the sight.

"Right where you belong, teach."

Cadenza climbed out of the debris quickly, shaking her head to clear her senses. "I'm not even going to dignify such a cheap shot with a real comeback," she shouted back.

"Oh, please, milady," Kellson scoffed, trying to shunt aside the throbbing in his sliced bicep. "One only says that when one doesn't know what the hell to say."

He started quietly stalking towards her, still refusing to draw a blade. That would be far too easy. "So," he called out as he drew nearer. "What exactly were you drinking to make you all strong and agile?"

Before his teacher could answer, the regicide moved, diving to the ground and picking up a garbage can lid. Hefting it, he hurled it like a discus. Cadenza danced out of the way as it spun through the air, hitting a wall and shattering from the force of impact.

"Reduced to using garbage to fight, are we?" Cadenza asked. Her dagger, held before her defensively, dripped Kellson's blood. Kellson shrugged and held out a hand. A second explosion of energy ripped from his palm, lancing through the darkness of the night to nail Cadenza in the gut. She pinwheeled through the air, hitting a wall with a crash. The wall cracked and dust plumed into the air. Kellson chuckled, walking back to his dazed teacher.

"Felt a bit like getting hit with a sledgehammer, right?" he sneered, summoning another ball of energy around his clenched fist. "The amulet wasn't the only thing I found after our little trip."

He fired a third blast. Cadenza rolled away just in the nick of time. The energy hit the ground where she had been one second before; dust and debris flew into the air. Kellson laughed giddily with the sheer destructive power he held in the palm of his hand. "This is too easy. You're supposed to teach me, woman, not be a punching bag."

OoC: Heh, I hope you don’t think the elixir was a total deus ex there. I was planning that from the start, and well, while it will last for a while, it still can’t compare to the amulet.

IC:
You know, I don't hate that kid, as irritating as he can be, but eventually he's going to push me to my breaking point, Cadenza thought, righting herself on her feet. And if it weren't for Algretta's potion, I might already be there.

The gypsy dusted herself off, and warily began on a semicircular path around Kellson, studying the hands from which he had shot the holy energy. The notion had startled her at first; the sight of a gleaming bolt had lanced through the air towards her from no apparent source, rendering her dumbstruck. The light looked significantly different from her light-oriented sister’s magic, and with the possibility of that typical magic eliminated, as hard as she found it to believe, the power had to be holy energy, didn't it? Kellson hadn't had magic before, and those sorts of powers didn't just spring up out of nowhere. Either one was born with them, or... could it actually have been divine intervention? For him, of all people? Cadenza's indignant foot hit the dun-colored stones a little harder, mildly angered by the thought. What makes him deserving!?

Her student's insult was still hanging in the air while she engaged in introspection. Knowing that Kellson would only sit back and enjoy the effects the discovery of his new abilities had brought for so long, Cadenza snapped her attention back to the present to pay him back in kind.

"You want to me to prove I'm worthy of teaching you, do you? Fine then, just shoot another one of your dinky blasts at me."

With an air of smugness about him, Kellson complied, if only for his own amusement. The radiant orb barreled on through the dusk towards the woman, who stood idly, without as much as a glance at the threat before her. The blast was only within a meter of her face when it was arrested in its luminous streak of flight by a disc of magic twirling on the gypsy’s fingers, like a pirouetting slice of the night itself.

Kellson scoffed, as if to ask “so what?” when the light rematerialized and rebounded towards him, missing its mark only by the breadth of one of his coal black hairs. He glanced over his shoulder to watch the beam crash noiselessly into the façade of a Mesoamerican-styled apothecary, unsettling a shower of golden sand. While he was momentarily distracted, the opportunistic Cadenza speedily chanted the words of an incantation the young man had never heard, and was currently too self-absorbed to take notice of. Before he realized it, he was enclosed in a nebulous shroud of shadow, the pressure forcing him down onto his knees, and after a few minutes underneath, he could feel his eardrums popping.

“How’s that?” Cadenza taunted, enjoying herself for the time being. She was well aware that Kellson was sure to burst out with his light energy once he deduced it was possible—but for now, he was finally silenced, and she found that immensely pleasing. The ringing was bad enough on its own, even at the lower volume it wailed at now.

Darkness, everybody.

It closed around him, squeezing him. His eardrums throbbed and popped like they did when he flew at high altitudes. Kellson held his head in his hands, pressing them against his temples, trying to stop the pounding headache that came with the darkness.

Cadenza shouted something gleefully at him; he couldn't hear her and didn't try. No doubt she found it amusing, the stupid whore. He growled and felt the constricting shadow tighten around him. Panting, he let go of his head and tried to push against the walls of darkness...nothing gave way. The web of blackness was even tighter, making it almost impossible for him to move. A sense of claustrophobia struck him; he frantically conjured a ball of holy light and blasted through the web. It dissipated instantly, leaving Kellson kneeling on the ground.

His teacher didn't seem surprised as he stood, face expressionless. She must have known that light would destroy her spell.

Who cares?

Kellson stretched languidly, suppressing any trembling muscles, still slightly unnerved from the constriction. "What'd you say?" he asked distractedly, cracking his knuckles.

"I asked, 'how's that?'" Cadenza answered, the corners of her mouth still quirking upwards. Kellson ignored her obvious malevolent amusement, feeling his usual sarcastic, easy-going personality disappearing, morphing into cold rage. Fun and games aside, there was a job to do and this woman, supposed mentor or not, would not stand in his way for long.

"How's this?" he asked, and fired off another two bolts of energy. As expected, she blocked the light beams and redirected them, sending them speeding back the way they came, straight towards the regicide. He was already running as they returned, though, and he dove below them, feeling the breeze ruffle his hair. The moist ground, dampened by the late night (or early morning) dew, aided his slide. He skidded several feet, flipped upright and over Cadenza's head, and kicked her in the head as he fell back down. She hit the ground in a heap as he did a handspring to stop himself from cracking his head on the cobblestones.

Landing perfectly, he felt his own sense of malicious amusement. He smirked and didn't wait for his teacher to get up by herself. Obviously, she needed help. He strolled over to his dazed teacher and, hoisting her up, hurled her over his head and into a wall.

"My, my, milady," he chuckled, leaning back against a wall. "You just can't stop hitting those walls." She's doing a helluva job showing her quality, he thought to himself. His teacher groggily staggered upright, retrieving her knife from the alley's ground.

OoC: Ah, one of my favorite Chappelle skits. Honestly, the only one I think I can say I liked even better was the Prince basketball one.

IC:
A thin layer of orange-brown mud coated Cadenza's dagger as she drew it from the ground, her eyes underneath her hood widening at the sight. Moisture? That's new for here, as far as I know. Agra must get rainfall from Cernilia...

Shrugging her surprise off, she glanced back up at Kellson to see him charging towards her, hands balled into tight fists and knuckles white. Taking advantage of the dampened ground, she skidded to evade his advance, sending a spray of slushy sand back towards him. He blocked the filthy wave with a forearm, hounding after his teacher with the light of wry amusement in his eyes. As he pursued her, taking swings and swipes every now and then that were evaded by leaps and rolls, he thought he heard something almost musical from her, but it teetered on the very vague edge of perception.

After some time, the sweet, whistling sound pervaded the air, and Kellson had to struggle against the melody that behaved much like a pheromone, urging him to stop, relax, and listen. Cadenza spun around while still keeping up her retreat to see his eyes glaze over momentarily. His determined efforts to strike her grew more and more futile, until finally, with a sweep of violet peacock feathers, he was arrested in his advance altogether, his weapon of a body fully paralyzed.

The gypsy stopped backtracking as the last of his limbs succumbed to the tingling numbness, and strode up to him, wearing a frown rather than the malicious smile he had expected. Grasping her dirty dagger firmly in her hand, she cast her gaze away as she thrust the thin blade through a small chink she had noticed in his chainmail earlier, and into the young man's abdomen. She gave it an abrupt turn as she seemed to suppress a shiver, and then withdrew the steel mottled with blood and mud in a swift motion.

Sheathing the dagger, she began to stalk away, although she had an inkling Kellson would attack if he had the strength when he recovered from the spell. No sane person would go on with a dirty wound like that, but he might, she thought, sighing. Anyway, even I'm not killing a kid for King Olmo. Try to stop him, yes--but Ferdinand will have to do the rest for himself.

OoC: Bah, I'm not entirely pleased with that post.

OoC: This bores me. Is anyone up for a game of basketball?

IC: Wow…that music sounded really good…he should hold up and listen.

No, no, no, NO! You goddamned idiot! Wake up! No!

Really pretty…quiet…I want to listen…

No, you motherfu—oh, Christ.

Even thoughts slowed down as Cadenza’s spell worked its way through his ears and into his brain. Silently raging at himself, Kellson froze in place, hands by his sides. His teacher briskly strode up to him, seemingly troubled, as she replaced the purple feathers back in her hair and fingered her dagger. As she was short and he was tall, Cadenza almost completely disappeared from his line of sight. Straining against the magic with all his might, the regicide tried to step away from the blade. No good. He sluggishly felt a jolting pain in his side, and then the woman turned and walked away, sighing to herself.

As she disappeared around a corner, Kellson felt feeling return to his fingertips. It spread down his nerves and into his brain, and in a great rush, movement returned to his body. He fell on his back, swearing at the sky, cursing all magic, all women, and all chain mail with holes in. Clutching at his side, his hand came away muddy ‘n’ bloody. “That crazy whore got me with a dirty blade?” he yelled, shocked and dismayed. He started to open his mouth to cuss again, but stopped and winced. “I think she stabbed my spleen.”

Struggling upright, he yanked off his trench coat and chain mail. Hopefully he could come back and sell the worthless mail later. Who needed armor, anyways, especially if it wasn’t going to do you any damn good? Muttering darkly, Kellson ripped off the sleeves of his tunic, tied them together, and bound them around the wound. He’d rather have ten holes in his stomach than let her get away. Now it was personal, and not just business.

The demi-angel growled and spread his wings, lifting off into the night air just to touch down on a high rooftop seconds later. He crept forward, booted feet silently padding across the damp rooftop. Taking position on a corner, he perched, scanning the dark streets below him. Looked like Main Street. Closed stalls dotted the sidewalks, along with parked carts and the odd sleeping horse (and hobo). Not much movement…ah-HA.

Cadenza crossed the street in front of him, glancing around. Kellson flapped his wings and straightened, a gargoyle coming to life. Without a second thought, he leaped off of the roof into the open air.

“Yahoooooooooooooo!”

His teacher whirled around as Kellson opened his wings at the last second, skimming across the ground. Flaring, he popped up over a cart and grabbed the edge, hurling himself forward to land a foot away from the astonished Cadenza.

“Surprised?” he laughed, and spun, kicking her in the stomach. She hit the ground, winded.

“You…I stabbed...you’ve got a dirty wound!” she yelled angrily. “Are you crazy?”

“Of course,” the regicide replied, his grin lighting up the darkness. “Aren’t you?”

OoC: I know what we'll call this game: the Shirts against the Blouses.

IC:
"Don't lump me together in a category with you!" Cadenza shouted back, rising to her feet. The sight of her student, who she thought she had left some distance behind nursing an infected wound, had expelled a great, startled breath from her lungs, and coupled with the kick to the stomach, she felt like the wind had been knocked out of her completely. Faltering in her step, she backed away from the winged fighter, with an arrow readied and trained on his face.

"I've got places to be!" she told him, continuing her retreat. "Do whatever you want with the king, I don't have time for this anymore."

Kellson laughed mockingly, advancing towards the frazzled gypsy. The stained flagstones underfoot resounded with the sound of each of his steps, echoing throughout the deserted streets and giving the whole area a decidedly lonely air. "Sorry," he told Cadenza, shrugging his shoulders and smirking, "but you made this personal, teach."

Just as the words left his mouth, he saw the sterling head of an arrow streaking towards him in his peripheral, a blur of colored guide-feathers and steel, and with a remarkable display of reflexes, he swatted the projectile away with an orb of resplendent, holy energy.

"You're slowing down," he remarked, inching closer towards the teacher panting in anxiety.

Her tired eyes were cast not upon him, but rather on the floor as her fingers shot up to rub her temples, and she muttered something about a incessant ringing and what sounded like the words "tracking device".

Raising a skeptical eyebrow, Kellson called, "Mumbling to yourself, are you? And you say that you aren't crazy."

“S-shut up!” Cadenza snapped, snarling back. She suddenly spun on her heel to dash away, but after only a few wobbly strides she was overwhelmed by the sharp, hurtful pangs and fell to her knees with her head upon her hands, wincing at every ring that came to her ears. Part of her knew that this particular student of hers would probably have no qualms about--at the least--injuring her, but the pain she was feeling already outweighed any worries she might have concerning the near future.

Vaguely aware of his approach from the sight of his faint shadow floating near her, she awaited what might come with bated breath and quavering hands.

OoC: Woah. This fight actually IS the shirts against the blouses.

IC: That settles it, Kellson decided, strolling forward leisurely. She's nuts. She's insane. She's a complete loony. Talkin' to herself and all that. Falling down for no reason. Yes, she's totally out of her mind.

The regicide halted in front of his shaking teacher, tapping a booted foot with irritation. "Get up," he commanded suddenly. "It's bloody awful killing someone who's just sitting there. It takes no skill."

Cadenza stayed where she knelt, head in her hands. Sighing, Kellson bent over and grabbed her by the front of her jacket, pulling her upright. A faint ringing met his ears, like a muted alarm clock. He blinked quizzically. "What's that ringing noise?"

His teacher, eyes shut tight, mumbled something inaudible. Kellson caught the words "sister" and "tracking device."

"Hey, not my problem. I'd pull it together if I was you. You're lucky I'm so good-natured, haha. Got ringing in your head, whup dee doo. Find an iPod and turn it up."

Drawing a knife, Kellson toyed with the blade, tossing it up in the air while holding up Cadenza with the other, contemplating his next move. Abruptly, a wave of pain washed over him, starting from his stomach and emanating outwards. He dropped both his teacher and the knife, clutching the wound in his side as the dagger clattered to the floor. Examining his hand, he saw blood coating his palm. The damn cut had oozed through the makeshift bandage. Shunting the pain aside, he crouched beside Cadenza.

"Yeah," he growled by her ear. "That was a bad idea, stabbing me like that. Maybe I should return the favor."

Reaching over, he picked up his knife and dragged it across the cobblestones. It came away almost completely brown with dirt and mud. "Now we'll be even," the regicide said grimly, raising the knife. But then, something stopped him from dropping his arm.

Oh. It was someone behind him. "You get away from that woman right now, mister!" his assailant yelled. "I won't have no bloodshed by my stall!"

Kellson stood and turned. The man holding his arm was stocky, with tattoos across his biceps. The demi-angel rolled his eyes and held out a hand, without bothering for theatrics. Energy ripped from his palm and sent the man cartwheeling through the air into a stall. There was a crash and a snap as the stall broke and the man's neck snapped. Kellson limped over, holding his throbbing side, and checked the body. Yes, life was definitely extinct. He picked up the corpse and extended his wings. Ascending to a rooftop, the regicide dropped the body off. No sense in drawing attention to himself.

Dropping back down, he shrunk his wings into nothingness and drew his crossbow with one hand. Man, his side was killing him. He started to stride back to where Cadenza lay, but then he realized that she wasn't laying there any more.

"Bugger."

OoC: Assemble your crew. I'll be outside.

OoC: Let's run a play: Computer Blue. Darling Pikki.

IC:
It was a decently clever ruse, Cadenza thought, legs pumping in a fast, even rhythm as she neared the outskirts of Agra. I just wish less of my mumbling about the pain and ringing was real. And maybe the guy didn't have to die either, but whatever, he was stupid.

The fleeing gypsy was now en route to her final destination, and the only thing separating her from Santa Mariela, where she had been summoned, was one two-hour-and-forty-minute ride on a secure, public train to the station a few meters shy of the city limits. With her cloak flying out behind her, pulled taut by the winds, she sprinted out into the desert path that was bathed in a blue light from the fading moon. After some time, Cadenza chanced a look behind her, and caught in the wan light a fleeting glimpse of a pair of black wings ardently scanning Agra's every nook and alleyway, with something too small to identify from such a distance in hand. She swallowed hard at the sight, and quickened her pace, bringing her attention back to the path before her. In twenty minutes' time, she would arrive at the station, and be whisked away out of her old student's violent clutches. Until then, she knew it was likely that he would not give up the chase.

OoC: Sorry for the super shortness, but it seemed to work for this point in the fight. :embrsd:

OoC: Do you guys want some grapes?

IC: Framed against the gradually disappearing stars, Kellson floated over the town furiously. He berated himself angrily, the regicide scanned the town's alleys and streets from above. Never, ever, ever turn away from the enemy! They'll get you in the back or turn tail and run, and either way it sucks for you.

He slowed, blood-stained hands clutching the rapid-fire crossbow. Cadenza was a coward; it didn't surprise him that she'd buggered off. Where would she go? Was there some sort of hiding place or something out of the city? It was worth a try to look--after all, she wasn't in the center of the town. Made sense.

Flapping higher, he squinted into the distance, down one of the main roads leading away from the town. Nothing moving. The demi-angel slowly rotated, wings beating the air heavily.

Ah-ha. You can't run forever.

A small figure, billowing cloak behind her, was legging it away across the sandy road. Kellson turned like an avenging angel and swooped down to the road, picking up speed as he beat his wings longer and faster. Audible thumps sounded every time the black feathers came down. Soon, Cadenza's figure grew larger and more distinct; he was catching up.

Kellson willed his wings to disappear and fell to the ground. Without slowing, he started running, dashing madly after the fleeing gypsy. Once she was in range, the regicide easily cocked his crossbow and opened fire. Bolts whizzed out after his teacher, hissing as they cut through the air. Kellson slowed as the crossbow kicked back against his chest. If he had been a normal human being, he would have had to stop and plant his feet to shoot; thankfully, he'd lost all sense of the word "normal" a long time ago.

As the sky began turning hues of pink and sunlit orange, the student barrelled after his teacher.

OoC: That was meh. Next time there's a chase scene we need to use cars.

OoC: Pancakes, b*tches?

IC:
Cadenza became vaguely aware of the sound of heavy breathing amid all the firmly-planted footsteps. Focusing to tune out the other ambient noise, she soon recognized the source as herself; her student no longer exerted himself in the manner an ordinary human did, and therefore the raspy fire burning in her lungs wasn't a feeling that also hampered the young man's pursuit, as it did her escape. Decisively grasping at the canteen at her side, she thrust it open and was about to drink when innumerable bolts from behind buzzed by her, one embedding itself in the leather casing. Curses flew from her lips as beryl-colored liquid began to gush out over her hands, and the gypsy was only able to capture a few of the milky rivulets of restorative elixir in her mouth before it all had drained out onto the parched earth underfoot.

Angered by the waste, Cadenza whirled about to face in the direction of town, still maintaining her swift pace as she launched a series of arrows back at her student. He jinked from side to side, avoiding the attacks deftly, but also shifting his concentration fully to the action that always seized his attention rather than on his target. He took no note then, of when the terrain made what would later seem to him an abrupt change--the saffron-and-gold colored sands and rolling dunes of the desert gave way to the great sloping walls of a gorge the hue of rust and cream, with hooked towers of rock that jutted from the central, hoof-beaten paths. Through this rugged scene rushed a frothy stream of teal water gurgling up from its banks; a rare bit of refreshment in an otherwise dry land.

Cadenza continued her barrage of arrows, and Kellson repeatedly countered, completely absorbed in the action. The woman permitted him to score a single hit with one of his bolts on her arm, and it served as an effective distraction. As the two fighters approached the stream, her student was too busy boasting about his aim to halt his advance in time--and as a result, found himself being swept downstream by the fierce currents. As the dark waters carried him away, the gypsy made the leap across the stream and continued bounding down the oft-traveled road, where she stayed until at last she came to a fork, and without a second thought veered off under the cover of the sheer canyon walls.

OoC: "In your face, Charlie Murphy."

IC:"Ha ha, gotcha that time, teac--oh, shi--"

He ran headlong off of a low ledge into a raging river.

The regicide belly-flopped, struggled upwards, and broke the surface of the water, gasping. Panic grabbed him. Swimming was the one place his athletic prowess deserted him. There were no oceans and very few lakes where he had grown up, and he'd never really learned how to swim. He floundered about, trying to keep his head above the water. So that was where that expression came from. He temporarily sunk under the white-capped current before pushing himself upwards again, speeding along down the river.

Kellson nearly slapped himself. You're such a wussbag. What better time to learn to swim than when you're about to drown?

Performing an awkward breaststroke, he forced his way to the riverbank, latching on like a barnacle to a sturdy boulder lodged in the mud. Hauling himself up, he leaped towards dry land, sprawling on the ground.

"Terra firma. Huzzah."

The regicide scrambled upright and took off down the bankside, booted feet kicking up pebbles and mud as he sped back towards the path.

Minutes later, he was back on the trail, dashing along at a speed that would make even the most experienced sprinter gape...and he wasn't going to stop after a hundred meters.

The road came to a split. Kellson skidded to a halt, searching in vain for tracks. It was no use; the ground had morphed from wet earth and mud to cool, smooth stone.

Oh, well. As they said: "If you come to a fork in the road...take it."

He dashed along one of the paths, pausing every now and then to look for a sign of his teacher. Had he picked the wrong path?

A small splatter of red caught his eye amongst the yellow-green of the scrubland grasses and the grey and white of the cliffs. Blood. Cadenza's, no doubt. It was the right path. He raced through the high walled rocks with renewed vigor, hot on the trail once more. In a matter of minutes, his teacher would have nowhere else to hide...

OoC: "Shoot the J! Shoot it!"

IC:
Kellson was coming up swiftly behind her--his footsteps resounding upon the even stones and bouncing off the canyon walls made that fact hard to ignore. Cadenza almost laughed at his lack of stealth, but remembering how her own blood had left a conspicuous, wine-red trail of drips behind on the gray rocks before she had bandaged the wound, she thought better of it. As she doggedly continued to sprint towards the station that would be her safe haven, she consulted her own cognitive map, so to speak, of the area.

Sparse vegetation would bristle up, olive-green and short, from a valley that the gorge would open out its craggy mouth into; there was not enough cover there, in the withering field, for one to hide behind as they ran. Beyond that, there was another dusty expanse of desert, which would, if she could reach it, give way to a modest town of scanty population were she could blend in amongst buildings and the few people until she reached the train station. With these thoughts and potential plans in her head, Cadenza briskly stepped out onto the first inch of the valley, leaving the canyon behind as she picked up speed.

But at the widening of the gorge walls as they gradually spread out into the open air of the valley, Kellson had also picked up speed, soaring on dark wings through the light pinks and lilacs of the sky with his eyes trained on his fleeing target. Forming a ball of holy energy in his hand, he took aim a good foot ahead of the petite, running figure, and then loosed the pulsating light. Like a shot fired from a cannon it barreled through the air, defying the fierce, whirring winds as it planted itself with force in the caked dirt. The orb sent up an earthy shower of uprooted weeds and dry soil, and the gypsy had to skid on her heel to stop short of the spray and hold up an arm to shield her eyes from the mess. At that moment, with the woman's attention focused on his diversion, Kellson hurtled down and struck her with a powerful dropkick in the small of her back, and Cadenza pitched forward from the impact onto the ground.

"I caught you, you cowardly whore," he spat at her.

OoC: In your face, Charlie Murphy.

IC: "No more running now, haha."

His teacher slowly got up, dusting herself off shakily. Kellson landed on the ground, sword drawn. "Enough. Chasing you across the country gets boring."

"Why can't you just leave me alone?" she shouted, fitting an arrow to her bow and firing it. Kellson leaped out of the way as it buzzed past like an angry bee.

"Because my stomach hurts like hell after you stabbed it," he responded, and the wound sent pain rippling through his gut as if to prove his point. He nearly tripped from the tremor as he continued circling his teacher. Damn, that was really hurting. Cadenza seemed to smirk as he visibly shook. He temporarily shrugged away the pain, angry that he'd let that shake him, let alone hurt. In fact, he was angry that he'd been stupid enough to get stabbed. He was angry about lots of things. His plan to kill the king seemed momentarily forgotten.

Swinging his sword confidently, he bounded towards her. She parried his slash with her dagger and hopskipped away, obviously avoiding full contact.

"No more running," he growled, and charged, weight slightly uneven as he tried to avoid moving his wounded side.

OoC: That post SUCKED.

OoC: Game...blouses. (Psst, you already used the "in your face" quote before. ;P)

IC:
Kellson hurtled towards Cadenza like an onrushing bird of prey, his sword poised like aggressive talons waiting for the first chance to sink into soft flesh. The only thing that ruined the whole threatening image was the hand stealing hesitantly towards his stomach, nursing the wound she had left him with; Cadenza saw her opening for attack there. Once her former student was close, she sidestepped out of his sword's sweeping arc, and forcefully kicked him straight in the area of the aching wound, sending a sharp, biting pain through Kellson's abdomen.

Spitting curses as he tried to resist doubling over in his pain, the infuriated man swiped with his blade in vain at the gypsy, and finally managed to launch a blast of holy energy as she approached his figure hunched on the valley floor. The light was dispelled quickly again by a disc of onyx-tinted shadow spinning on the woman's fingers, but served to forestall a possible second stabbing for a time, while Kellson struggled to regain his composure. It was only as he was just beginning to stand that he found the wretched dagger in his stomach again, digging deeper into his bleeding insides; it was withdrawn swiftly after and he fell to the ground, trying to stop himself from writhing.

Cadenza bent over to wordlessly and dispassionately clean the blood and dirt from her dagger on the man's trenchcoat, and then as she stood, dipped her head in a quick goodbye nod before throwing the garment over his eyes and dashing off.

OoC: OH SMACK. SKIT SWITCH: Hello and good evening! It's me. WHAT? It's me. WHAT? It's me. Little John. OKAY!

IC: Back arched, fists balled, teeth gritted, and eyes watering, the regicide nearly whimpered. His stomach was on fire. Excruciating pain ripped across his torso. He felt blood running down his side, but ignored it. Something felt punctured.

Grunting, he opened his eyes, shaking his head to remove the covering piece of trenchcoat. Dawn's first crimson and golden rays slowly reached across the sky, starting to shine into his eyes. Shadows played across the green and beige valley.

It did nothing to alleviate the pain, but it looked nice.

Kellson groaned and turned onto his stomach. Time to go. He punched the ground with one fist and heaved himself up onto his knees. Thank God, he thought dizzily, for one-armed push ups. Looking around, he saw a dwindling figure in the distance, framed by the rising sun.

The demi-angel faced a crossroads: get some attention for his heavily bleeding, bruised, possibly-infected wound...or go after his teacher and beat seven kinds of hell out of her.

He extended his wings, picked up his crossbow, and lifted into the air, trying not to turn his hips at all.

Well, he'd be damned if Cadenza got away, and possibly dead, too. But...it'd be worth it. Rising higher and gliding on a thermal, he swooped after the fleeing criminal.

The valley really did look rather nice.

OoC: Lol. Shirts and Blouses. The blouses are winning. Cadenza. I get it. xD