Welcome, welcome, one and all (to the ugly bug ball...srry...just made me think of a long lost childhood picture book...) to the great RHG! Before us we have two animalistic combatants, locked in the traditional rivalry of cat and dog...or are they?
Azure's edition: Jaguarundi vs. Wolfkin
For those of you who cannot read a Google Doc, here is the Spoiler version:
[Spoiler=Jaguaruni vs. Wolfkin]
It is difficult to obtain the friendship of a cat.
It is a philosophical animal…
One that does not place its affections thoughtlessly.
-Theophile Guatier
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Leoncio’s stay in the hospital lasted roughly a week. During this time, he’d learned the name of the nurse who looked over him the most was Sharon, an intern who’d once been an acquaintance of an old gladiator who went by the name Bastet.
“You know, you kind of remind me of her,” Sharon says. “Only you don’t wear a mask like she did. Was quite obsessed with it, really. I mean, you have the whole cat motif going on.”
“It’s not exactly a choice,” Leoncio says in a mutter. Sharon holds her hands up, seemingly in apology.
“Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to cause offense, Mr. Sensitivity.” A small grin creeps onto his face, and she smiles herself. Holding up a chart, she looks it over. “So, your wounds are healing up nicely. The rib is setting at an accelerated pace, likely the whole weird blood thing. Oh, don’t give me that look, even if you hate it, it’s keeping you from being stuck in here longer. Back to what I was saying, your rib is setting, but it’s still not fully healed, so be careful with that. Your breathing may also suffer for a bit from the puncture. It’s not fully healed yet. Now, the most pressing concern would be your stomach wound.”
Leon gently places his hand against his stomach. He still remembered the sting of the blade going through him, the coldness of it, the numbness it brought. The wound gave a slight ache at his the touch.
“Though you were fully impaled, there wasn’t a huge deal of internal damage, which is a good thing. Slight damage to your large intestine, as well as a kidney, but not so extensive that we weren’t able to stitch them up. Also, because of the angling of the blade, your spine went totally untouched, so you shouldn’t suffer any real issues with movement. That all said, your body still needs time to recuperate. I’d honestly prefer you stay here, but that doesn’t seem like it’d align with your own pursuits, so I have the discharge forms. I will say that you should avoid too much stretching. If those stitches pop, you’ll be right back here and probably a lot more conscious than last time. I’ll prescribe you some painkillers as well, just pick them up at the pharmacy on your way out.”
Leon nodded, taking the paperwork and signing it. He leans back on his bed, wondering when next he’d fight, whether he’d end up back here or not.
“Oh, and Leon?”
“Yes?”
“Try to make your next visit more of a friendly one over a ‘let’s keep him from dying one,’ ok?”
After his discharge, Leon had a few days of recovery and meditation, before he was once again notified of a challenge. He checked the pager he’d been given, and read aloud the name of his opponent. “The Shadowolf…” The name set his blood on edge, somewhat. He was being placed in a fight with someone who bore a perverse name from an animal. Rubbing his temples, he continues to view the information sent. He’d be able to receive more information of the battle from the arena, where the battle would apparently be taking place this time.
Making his way there, he noticed the effects of the painkillers wearing down somewhat, a light ache present in his stomach. His healing had indeed succeeded the regeneration of a human, and he hated it, as it was just another reminder of how outcasted he was.
Arriving at the arena, he goes through the Gladiator entrance, his aim the Information Desk. “Hello,” he says. “I’m here for my battle information.”
A bored-looking young man, a pale white with greasy black hair and a splattering of freckles, yawns. “Name?” he asks in a deadpan that would kill a baby’s enthusiasm and wonder for the world.
“Leoncio,” he replies. The worker rolls his eyes, then in his chair, spins around and rolls towards a filing cabinet. He mutters incoherently under his breath as he looks over the contents of a drawer, before pulling out a manila folder. Kicking the drawer closed, he pushes himself back to the desk and passes it to Leon.
“Here,” he says. “As always, we ask you not share this information with others, and properly dispose of it afterwards.” He yawns again, and Leon gets the feeling that it’s more to show both his disinterest as well as imply that he no longer has any reason to talk to him. Leon takes the file and walks off to a lounge area, turning off the television so he can properly focus. He looks over the information provided, when his breath catches in his chest. A cold sweat slowly forms on his brow, and the world seems to go a little darker, a little more quiet.
“He’s… he’s like me.”
Leoncio’s mind tries to process this revelation. He sets the file aside, gripping his chest, his breaths speeding up. This was too soon. This was much too soon. He’d only just arrived, yet he’d already found someone who was like himself, somebody who had maybe found the answer to controlling the beast that was rooted so deeply within himself. As his thoughts start to settle, Leon realizes what the feeling is within him. It’s excitement. Pure, unhindered excitement, which he’d never had a chance to know before now. He picks the file back up, looking over the time and location of the battle.
The battle was scheduled for the next day, in one of the rooms here in the arena. His heart was still racing in anticipation. What would he be able to learn from this fight? The anticipation filled him like a drug, as he headed out to wait for the answer he sought.
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On the day of battle, Leon’s excitement turned to dread. Over the course of the night, he’d realized he’d made a lot of assumptions as to this Shadowolf’s character before having even met the guy. What if he didn’t conquer the beast within? What if he’d given into it, turned into a monster with enough intelligence to have all the prey it could want? Would that be the same fate he’d face?
It was like he’d been filled with ice when he entered the designated room, set to resemble a field at high noon, with a lone castle in ruins a short distance away. He looked around, trying to comprehend how this room appeared larger on the inside than the whole of the building; another sign at the advanced technology this sport seemed to possess. He doubted he’d cease to be amazed at the wonders that this day and age continued to present.
Within moments of his entering, however, a metal bar impaled itself in the ground before him. His survival instinct prepared to kick in, when he noticed a piece of paper attached to the bar, a note composed of very formal handwriting on it. He rips it off, and glances over it.
‘Good day, Mr. Cardozo. I am your opponent, Shadowolf. Apologies for the rude introduction, but as I’m sure you’re aware, we’re of similar natures. That means that you, similar to myself, could give into your battle lust if things proceed too far. So this is a call to a proper duel. I’m at the top of the castle. I’d rather you not keep me waiting.
Your opponent, Shadowolf’
Leon crumpled the note, something akin to relief entering him. Though he was still tense, he at least felt that Shadowolf did understand him, moreso than anyone else he had met in his travels. He looked to the castle, making note of the height. It would take him no more than twenty minutes, give or take. Still, the request seemed a bit peculiar. Why was he being asked to climb to the roof? It didn’t make much sense, but there was nothing to do but meet Shado’s demands.
The inside of the castle was in surprisingly better condition than the outside. Though there were still the obvious signs of destruction, such as the holes in the wall where sunlight streamed in, the floors were immaculate polished stone; it was limestone, if Leon recalled correctly. He’d only spent a short time learning of the stones often used as flooring. Textiles, which still held some crest of royalty, were lain single file across the floor; a warm reprieve from the light chill of the flooring. He looked in awe at the art that still decorated the walls, scenes of battle that seemed almost surreal, featuring knights and monsters alike.
As he continued, he reached the throne room, where a decaying throne sat sad and alone. Standing tall behind it was a dark figure; though it was cloaked in shadows and with piercing red eyes, heavenly lights bathed it. The painting had no discernible title, but it was almost as if looking at it sent whispers into his mind. He broke the pseudo eye contact, finding the staircase to the spire nearby. It wasn’t a particularly long ascent, but as he rose higher and higher, he questioned more and more how that metal bar had reached him. He cursed himself for not better looking over the file he’d been given.
Upon reaching the top, he found himself greeted by a strange sight: a shiny metal table with two similarly designed seats on opposite sides of it. One of the chairs was already occupied, a hooded figure watching Leon. He waves his hand to the empty seat, gesturing for him to take it. Leon was hesitant, but he didn’t want to initiate in combat while his opponent was being so hospitable; even more, the previous discomfort of the fight had risen in him. This person could have the answers he sought. Would a blindly hacking away at each other really teach him anything?
Taking his seat, he quietly watched Shado, who still kept his hood on, obscuring his face. The pair sat in perpetual silence, only the kiss of the wind reminding them they were still alive, that this wasn’t strange dream.
“…I admit,” Shado said, taking the initiative, “that when I was first informed that I’d be fighting you, I expected something a bit, well, different. Someone a bit more similar to myself.”
“What do you mean?” Leon asks slowly, his body starting to tense for some unknown reason. Though he didn’t feel a threat at the moment, he did feel an instinctual distrust for Shado.
The man sniffs, seeming to nod to himself. “So, you’re still working to control your animal instincts, are you? As you probably saw, I too have been blessed with traits of a beast.” He reaches up and pulls back his hood, revealing the head of a black wolf, crimson markings on the right side of his face. Leoncio instantly backs away, to the chuckles of Shado. “Calm down, calm down. A bit shocking at first, but I assure you, I’m not as scary as I look.”
Leon takes a moment to let the form sink in, then asks the question that had been burning in him since he’d first seen the file. “You… were you born like this?”
Shado shakes his head. “I was born one hundred percent human, a proud Alban who became a devoted knight of his people. I take it you got a look at the pictures and such below?” Leon nods. “Well, one way or another, it seems this system managed to model this particular setting off of one from my own home. They turned it into these ruins, likely to spite me and promote the battle, but it takes a bit more than cheap tricks like this to get under my fur. I was given this blessed form while on the verge of death by a being called ‘The Reaver’; I’m sure you saw his image above the throne.”
The image of those piercing red eyes came back to Leon, and he shook his head. “No, no, no… This… what am I supposed to do with this?” He rips off his bandana, revealing his ears. “How do we live when we’re nothing but monsters?!”
Shado folds his hands, placing them in front of his muzzle. “As I’ve come to understand, this ‘Real World’ of yours does tend to have a heavy bit of discrimination against those with less human appearances. Though you, you’ve so little about you that appears like a beast, I can’t help but feel a bit jealous. I’d think you’d have it easier.”
Leon clenches his fists, tears threatening to burst forth. “Easier…? Every day, every day of my life, I’ve struggled to hide away this monster inside of me. Every day, I worry about what will happen if I lose control, how many lives I may take.” He lightly touches the scar on his face. “I wonder if I’ll really just become an animal, if the only salvation I can find is in death.”
Shado places his hands firmly on the table, and stands. As he does so, both the chairs and table melt away into nothing. He takes up a battle stance. “If you’re really so tortured, then let’s get to this duel. We’re both beasts of men, are we not? Let’s speak with our claws, not our words.”
Leon wipes at his eyes, and tossing aside his bandana, takes his own stance. The two begin to circle each other, watching the movements of the other, their muscles relaxing in preparation. As the pacing continued, a light suddenly shines in Leon’s eyes, his arms instinctively moving up to protect his vision. It was in that moment that Shado moved forward, his fist connecting with Leon’s still healing wound. The blow winded him, and then the pain kicked in. Everything stopped for Leon, who was unable to move, unable to think from the nubing sensation.
Shado didn’t let up, grabbing Leon’s neck and throwing him into the far embrasure. Leon’s body was nothing but pain, pain and anger at the situation. This wasn’t what he expected, this wasn’t what he wanted. The beast within awakened, slowly asserting its influence. Leon rose to his feet, Shado walking over.
“Come now, boy, you’re much more than this. I know you’re injured, but I myself am not in the best condition after that fight with the witch brat.” He paused mid-stride, sniffing the air. Immediately, he raises a wall of iron, deep claw marks etching into them. “So those are your claws. Not physical, but something else, huh?”
Leoncio slowly rises to his feet, blood shooting from his mouth as he coughs. He wipes away the excess, turning to face the dog before him. Whether he was wounded or not, he wouldn’t lose to someone like this. Shado grins, the wall melting and turning into a floating spear. He launches it forward, following closely behind as Leoncio allows himself to fall over the embrasure. The spear flies harmlessly by, and Shado looks over the edge. Not seeing the body, he tunes his senses, locating Leon lower in the tower, having entered through one of the holes which once archers may have used if in fact this were a real castle.
Leon uses his shift in battle location to move as far from Shado as he can, needing a breather. As he moves down the stone stairs, he takes into consideration what he’s learned thus far, and it only deepens the dread that had been building within him. How was he going to defeat somebody so much stronger than him, especially with his stomach wound? He manages to arrive back in the throne room, and sits near a pillar, his body buzzing with fear and adrenaline. The stare of the Reaver portrait nags at him despite his looking away from it, a remind
