Fcgfyv vs. Quill

Loft dragged a stick through the dirt, muttering to himself. His eyes were staring down, not at the drawings themselves, but at what they meant. They looked through the dirt, into the earth itself, staring at what the powers below were trying to convey. He was standing with his back slouched over and his eyes downcast, his blonde hair made a complete rat's nest by his hands, which were constantly scraping across his head in anxious agitation. Every few seconds he would glance up nervously, shuffle his feet, and look back into the earth below. He scraped the stick across the ground, connecting two dots, and groaned.

"Back again," he muttered, glancing around, "I don't- I don't- I don't like this." He shook his head, continuing to mutter quietly to himself, the stick getting shaky in his hands as he began to rock back and forth slightly. "Too loud." He shook his head like a dog, trying to block out the loud noises coming from the bleachers across the Pit of Pointy Wooden Objects. There weren't many, but there were people sitting in the raised seats, cheering and screaming bloody murder at the onset of the match. Loft licked his lips and looked around for his opponent, waiting, always waiting. He just hoped that he didn't die this time.

The yellow of the evening reflected off of Slink's blue eyes, turning them slightly green. He was trying to focus on the watercolored sky, attempting to tune out the roar around him. No individual nor group of any animal could hope to imitate the roar of a bloodthirsty crowd. If he listened closely, he could pick up people yelling, screaming, chanting, maybe the slight and faint individual who vainly tries to strategize for the fighters. "You have to hand it to whoever is running this." Slink notes. "The crowd must be going broke just to watch these senseless fights."

Slink inventoried his weapons and abilities, in case one were to fail in the middle of a fight. He reached back, then unsheathed his sword and cut a limb off of a tree in one swift motion. The leaves rustled slightly as it fell through the air, and went louder when the stick hit the ground. Slink ran his fingers lightly over the edge of the blade, in case it had dulled, then sheathed it once again. He brought out his blade from his belt, and cut the air with a horizontal slash and two quick jabs. His balance was off, though, so the exertion made him become off-balance. He regained his balance, and told himself "You're going to get yourself killed if you aren't at one hundred percent, which you should be all of the time." He repeated the motions, this time maintaining his balance, and returned his knife to where it came from. With that, he swaggered toward where he believed the center of the battlefield lay. When it had been found, he chose the closest tree to climb, moving through the motions from trunk to branch like he had done every day. In a fork of a limb, adequately hidden by leaves, in which to crouch and await his prey.

Loft's waiting ears pricked up at the sound of something crashing to the ground. He immediately dropped into a crouch, holding the stick he'd been using to scratch at the dirt like a weapon in his hand. He licked his lips nervously, the bunny ears fixed to his head wobbling as he turned left and right. The sound had come from... that way. The stick pointed off to his left, down the Arena, and he set off carefully, leaving the stick behind.

He heard the roaring of the crowd, and he felt anger prickle at his blood. Why wouldn't they be quiet? It was really hard to concentrate on being sneaky when there was a crowd screaming for his head. A wonder that he'd been able to hear the clue of the crash over the din. He tried to ignore it, but it was really, really hard, and Loft gave up.

He stomped his feet and kept moving forward. He looked around carefully, not wanting to leave any of his sides unprotected. He spun like a ballerina at random, leaving the enemies lurking behind the trees or hiding in the dirt confused. Jeers and whoops poked at his ears from the crowd, and Loft scowled at them. They were probably just jealous at his awesome dancing skills.

There! His keen thieving eyes spotted the culprit, a branch that was conspicuously lying on the ground beside a tall oak tree. Loft squinted at it and glanced around. There were no other branches lying on the ground. Beside for that one, the Arena was impeccably tidy. That could only mean one thing.

Without any warning, Loft sprinted at the tree. His hands empty, the Bunny Hood's ears waving wildly in the air, he sped at extreme speeds towards it. His arms pumped smoothly as he swiftly closed in on the suspicious brown tower. He would be there in seconds.

Having gotten quickly bored from waiting, Slink grabbed a stick nearby and began whittling it with his knife, constantly shifting his crouching position impossibly to a point that equally met comfort and safety. The stick, nay, the trees here were much different from any he had seen in the Lost Woods. But that was perfectly explainable: the trees fed off of the roars of the mob around them, and drank the blood of any poor soul who touched these cursed grounds. Speaking of the crowd, they were getting pretty annoying, and Slink wanted to throw something at them to make them shut up. Then again, he didn't have anything to throw or shoot, save the stick, and he had no way of getting close to the bleachers across the pit of spikes.

Instead of getting them to be quiet, Slink tried to tune them out again. He focused on imagining different ways that he could take down his opponent, not kill. Only for his own survival would his blade share the foliage's drink, but only then. The noise of the spectator's cries was still audible, but enough to make Slink feel like he wouldn't be driven insane. Another noise, separate from the din around him, perked his interest. It was faint, like the all-too-familiar sound that he had lived with his whole life. Almost inaudible rustling of grass matched the brisque drumbeat of feet. A wave of panic went through him, and he thought to himself Did my opponent find me? How could they have known my location?! This thought was short-lived, however, with the realization that the noise was too soft for it to be close. But what would cause his opponent to run? There was nothing chasing him, or else Slink would have heard it as well. Maybe he thought he found Slink... yeah, that should be it, since that's in the direction of where he did his training. Whoever it is, Slink thought to himself, I must be dealing with a master tracker if they did discover my training spot.

Slink pondered how to lure his opponent, if at all. He could leave him be, and leave him to wander for a long time, until they pass Slink's hiding spot when they least expect it. Nah, that would take too long, and his skills would dull as time passed. Maybe he could find a way to draw his adversary away from Slink. If so, he would need to follow suit and be completely invisible, if he's to sneak up on someone skilled in tracking. He almost decided to draw his opponent toward him, but that would produce high risk for being spotted and caught. For now, Slink decided to leave them be and ponder his decisions, but keeping his blue eyes on the ground, which began to shimmer the closer the sun got to the ground.

The Bunny Hood pushed his legs forward, making him move faster than what was ever possible before. Loft felt his blood sing with the wind as he ran, moving swiftly along with it, running and running faster than anyone had ever run before. He was faster than sight, faster than sound, faster even than light itself! He wouldn't be surprised if the crowd lost sight of him, not being able to see anything but a blur of browns and yellows where a handsome Loft-shaped figure had once stood.

As he ran towards it, the moments ticking by as slowly as if they'd been double-dipped in pure maple syrup, his mind whirled. The branch had fallen from the tree. Loft had experience with trees and their duplicitous behavior. They were sly little things, sneakier than Wall-Masters and meaner than Moblins. Most of them were alright, innocently reaching up towards the sky and drinking in the riches of the earth, but a few of them were just downright nasty.

There was only one thing to do with nasty trees. Still moving super super quickly, Loft reached into his bag and pulled out a golden candle-base. Instantly, as if the Bunny Hood was jealous at the shared attention with another item, the flow of super speed stopped. He was still running, though, and the momentum was carrying him forward as he began to thrust the base forward to the really close tree. The moment that elbow straightened completely, flames would instantly appear from the base. They would quickly soar through the air, closing the small distance between him and the tree, and embrace the wood, pulling it into a tight hug. The fire's arms would swiftly soar up through the branches, taking every last leaf into its hold and banishing the nasty tree from existence.

[[Golden rule of Loft: when in doubt, burn down trees. And then Smokey the Bear appeared.]]

A flash diverted Slink's attention from the ground. It was there and gone faster than an instant, but shone through the leaves just enough to be noticed, but what was it? Another flash, but much different, and instead got gradually bigger. Instead of being seen between the leaves, it turned them a luminous orange. Oh wait, that's fire! What kind of sorcerer tracker am I dealing with?! Slink thought to himself, as much as he wanted to shout in fear. Although the fire shouldn't spread from tree to tree, whoever was running around trying to burn down all of the hiding spots sure knew how to draw their enemy out.

How could Slink top leveling the playing field? One-on-one fighting should be a breeze to knock this person out, but not if they could shoot a fireball from a distance! He assumed his best hope was to keep a low profile, and stay watchful for any flame that might head his way. After all, he didn't want to be the next object reddening the dark sky.

Loft stood by the tree, his arms held loosely at his side as he stared into the crackling depths of the flames. The inferno's red arm was reaching up the tree like a hungry child desperate for sweets, grabbing branches with tendrils of fire, snapping them from the base, and lowering them into its hungry maw. Something exploded in the fire, and Loft jumped back. He had long since sheathed his candle-base, and his movement was accordingly accelerated again by the stylish ears adorning his head. He gave them a little prod, giggling at the way they boing'd back and forth.

The fire cracked, and the smell of burning wood filled Loft's nostrils. Smokey and heady- it made Loft smile. He liked that smell. Another burning branch fell to the ground, and Loft laughed in delight. He held out his arms like a dancer and spun around the tree, laughing as the red and orange flames reached up to the equally golden sky.

"The bad tree is dead, the bad tree is dead!" Loft's voice rose in exultation, in triumph, and he could hear the voices of the crowd rising with him, agreeing with his just burning. Loft giggled and twirled on the spot, his body casting long shadows across the grassy ground as he danced.

What is that? Slink pondered. He could hear yelling from the burning tree, although the only words carried over were evil, tree, and dead. All around him, the tireless crowd... cheered? The mass, who appeared to have seen all of his opponent's moves without fail, seemed to be cheering. What for? Only the damned fires, reaching higher and higher toward the heavens for salvation, came to mind, which must have pleased the barbaric overseers. AH HA! Got you! He saw the shadow of his opponent, moving in ways of grace. No matter, there was no way that they would escape Slink now that he knew where his target was.

An acrobat, standing tall and proud on their bar, grabs that which held their feet before swinging to the ground for a perfect score. Thus, Slink disembarks the branch, not making any sound that would rise above the crazed crowd. Like the shadows themselves, he prowled toward the only light source in the dark of night. Not even the moon chose to shine on the battlefield, as if the goddesses themselves had chosen to abandon this godless land.

"The bad tree is dead! The bad tree is dead!" The song and dance continued in joyous celebration, Loft raising his arms and his voice to the heavens to proclaim the glad tidings of joy to the world. The wickedness had been cleansed from the tree by the purifying flames, and there was nothing but sunshine and lollipops left in the Arena. All was well now that the bad tree was gone. But as he danced around the bonfire, he realized that there was still something missing from the party. Something wasn't quite right here; there was something that Loft, in all his amazing, genius glory, had forgotten.

Where was the candy? Where were the sweets to be burned, where were the chocolates to be stuffed into sticky mouths, and where were the delicious, fattening, non-healthy treats to which Loft had grown accustomed to having with bonfires? Loft couldn't believe that something so important, so essential, was missing! How was he supposed to enjoy burning down the evil tree down in the Arena, cheered on by a bloodthirsty crowd, when he didn't have any candy?

Loft was so shocked at his discovery that he tripped over his own two feet, landing with a thump in the grass. The jarring sensation of his head smacking against the ground jolted him out of his revelry and brought him firmly back to where he was. The roaring of the crowd, which had seemed to dance along with him beside the bonfire, now jabbed into his eardrums again; it was a brutal reminder of his present situation. This wasn't a yummy campfire, this was a fight to the death! And Loft... Loft wasn't going to die this time. No sir, he wasn't going to be shot with arrows, stabbed with swords, impaled by shrapnel, disintegrated by explosions, or splattered against the ground this time. He would be Super-Loft, ready to take on any danger!

He quickly stepped closer to the bonfire and turned his back to it, looking out at the dark Arena. Nobody could resist an awesome fire like the one he'd made. The bad guy would slink out of the darkness soon, like some kind of- of shadowy evil monster thing, but Loft wouldn't be caught with his pants down, oh no. No distractions, this time. He would be ready for his enemy. Loft licked his lips, rubbed his bare hands together, and waited.

This man certainly did not seem like one who was very strategic, an observation Slink made from behind the closest tree, which wasn't very close in reality, watching his adversary dance around the flaming oak. He couldn't help thinking that he had seen this man before. Yeah, he remembered seeing this person around the fortress once or twice. What was his name? He never really cared about this person until now, so the name had slipped his mind. Loaf? Leaf? It was probably Leaf. Slink shook his head violently. Focus on the task at hand. he mentally commanded himself.

He reviewed what was presented in front of him: The savage crowd's cries would shield almost all noise that he made, but the light of the tree was too bright in the darkness to get anywhere close without being discovered. Why was Leaf falling over? He definitely wasn't a fighter with that kind of balance and concentration. Slink observed his opponent facing the crowd, Leaf's line of sight now perpendicular to Slink's. He was an unsafe distance from the fire, though, and a plan began to brew in Slink's head. He crouched, then began to sweep his arms across the ground until he found exactly what he needed: a rock about the size of his hand. Slink grasped the rock, as a pitcher would his baseball, and threw it as far as he could toward the tree, hoping for some kind of effect. His plan worked better than expected, when the stone tore through a branch as if it were paper. The snap was loud enough to be heard over the raging crowd, who were now shouting furiously, and Slink had to sneak a peak at what was about to unfold.

Loft twisted his head back and forth, back and forth, left to right, right to left, almost like there was a hypnotist in the dark waving an entrancing pendant that Loft couldn't yet see. He was searching, searching, searching for the one whom he must fight. He was scared- terrified, really- but there was also an undeniable undercurrent of excitement pumping through his veins. The tension by the popping fire was palpable, and Loft found himself licking his lips more often than was strictly necessary.

His head had just finished its leftward twist when something in that direction snapped. His eyes grew to the size of cakes, and time seemed to speed up as his eyes detected something flying through the air towards him. The ears on the Bunny Hood flopped and flirled, and he jumped to the side with the same super speed that normal Lofts could only dream of having. The dark something landed in the fire, crushing bits of the fallen wood and causing a cacophony of crashes to careen out from the cracked tree and corrupt the dark sky above with twinkling, crinkling embers.

Loft didn't waste any time giggling. He sprinted out to where the dark something had come from, zig-zagging left and right like a bunny possessed. The wind rushed in his face, the crowd screamed, and his fingers slipped down to his belt and pulled something out of a shrivelled wooden organ hanging there. Immediately his bunny speed left him, but he quickly threw the Deku Nut in his fingers forward, closed his eyes for the flash, made like a bunny, and zoomed after it.

GAH! I CAN'T SEE! Slink thought to himself, using every fiber in his body to not scream. The blank white screen covering his sight lasted only a second, but slowly faded. Tiny sparks flashed everywhere, and almost nothing could be seen. He could only see the glow of the fire, and his death speeding at him like an arrow if he didn't act fast. Slink moved his arms across the trunk of the tree until he found a branch to grab on.

Feeling his way, with a surge of energy moving through him, he felt like someone was pushing him from the ground to the branch, then on to the next one after slowly discovering it. Slink hung on to this branch as a monkey, then pulled his legs up to wrap around it. He could hear his adversary below him, running around, but could not see him. Even without the slow recovery from the blinding flash, Slink was to immersed in keeping his eyes closed and praying to the goddesses to remain hidden.

Loft zoomed across the field, away from the burning tree and towards whomever had thrown that dark thing at him. He had opened his eyes the moment that the white glare had passed, and he kept up his zig-zag pattern just in case his opponent was psychic and had turned away.

His blue eyes scanned the darkness as his body rushed through the grass, searching- there! A dark shape by the base of a tree, moving upwards in the darkness only broken by the stars and the burning tree at his back. The figure was slowly climbing up the tree, but Loft had him. He pulled a throwing knife out, his super speed immediately dying. He skidded to a halt, steadied for a moment, and hurled it at whomever was hanging from the branch.

I am going to die I am going to die I am going to die... Slink repeated over and over again in his head. He didn't have time to properly hide, and he couldn't see anything. A sharp, quick pang on his left fingers and less on his right shoulder, followed by hearing a clank. Slink screamed out of pain in fear, and the uproar from the crowd accompanied him plummeting to the ground. The landing shook all of the bones in his body, and he could feel his heartbeat in his ears. He had to escape, and after a cursory glance of his surroundings, he ran. It didn't matter which direction, just as long as it got away from Leaf. His body felt weak and heavy, so he dragged himself across the ground as fast as he could. He cradled his left hand in his right armpit, which was drenched in sweat like the rest of his body.

When he thought he regained his vision, his left foot never met the ground and he started falling. Screaming, Slink turned around to grab the edge of the platform, with no intention on being skewered. Nine fingers dug into soft earth, almost pulling out the grass in a desperate attempt to... Wait, nine fingers? A quick glance revealed the gruesome reality; in his middle finger, blood poured out of a gash near his fingernail, and his index finger was completely severed from his hand! Too horrified to make any noise, Slink concentrated on the side of the platform, then slowly released his grip until he was crouching on the vertical surface. Tears rolled from his right eye across his nose and on to his left eye, then falling off of the side of his cheek as he slowly walked away from the danger.

Bing bada boom-boom-boom! A scream had ripped through the crowd's cheers, and Loft laughed triumphantly as the dark body fell to the ground. The crowd's roars were raising to new heights of loudness and violence, and Loft felt himself being swept up in the ferocity of their screams. He was grinning from ear to ear, heat blazing in his chest and pumping through his veins like warm fire.

This Arena battle was different. This time, he wasn't the one being hunted. This time, it wasn't him desperately staggering away from a more powerful enemy. This time, it wasn't going to be him that died. For the first time ever in the Arena, Loft was the one in control. Loft would be the one who survived. He felt the blaze of victory, of triumph, spur him onwards, and as he darted after his wounded prey, Bunny Hood flopping around his head, his smile only grew wider.

From a distance that was rapidly growing smaller, he saw his prey stagger to the edge of the Arena and fall into the Pit of Pointy Wooden Objects. Loft hissed, skidding to a halt before he met the same fate. He peered over the side, expecting to see red coat one of the sticks lying below, but there was no body there. He frowned and looked up- could his prey fly? Was he a birdman, like the winged warrior whom Loft had met in a forest mansion some time ago?

No- when he glanced to the side, he saw a boy about his age walking away on the wall. Loft tilted his head, trying to make the wounded man stand upright. He knew this trick- he could do it himself. He pulled out another throwing knife and aimed it at his playmate, but the Arena floor was blocking most of the shot. That was okay, though- Loft knew what to do. He lowered himself down and stood on the wall, choosing to ignore the pull of the earth below, and threw his knife at the escaping boy's back.

A ping caught Slink's attention over the crazed crowd. With his recovered vision, he glimpsed a knife bouncing along the bottom with the spikes. Terrified that his enemy had found him, he turned around to meet Leaf's cold gaze. Not knowing how many more opportunities Leaf had to skewer him with another knife, Slink did not want to take any chances. In normal conditions, Slink may be able to deflect the knifes with his own sword, but it would be almost impossible to do so in the current condition. Choosing fight over flight, Slink reached sideways and grabbed the edge of the field. He pulled himself onto solid, horizontal ground, and ran to meet his opponent with the (literal) upper hand. Although Slink knew where his opponent was, he did not look at where his swing went. His blade moved like a pendulum, with one swing, until Slink moved on to what he was more focused on: getting out of there. He didn't listen for a scream of death, and he didn't watch his opponent fall to the spikes. After swinging the blade, he escaped both his direct attacker and the crowd who looked like they would jump out of their seats to finish the job.

He picked the tree furthest away from wherever Leaf should have been and climbed with the best of his ability. After a bit of struggling, as he always expected all ten fingers to grab each branch, he continued to ascend through the branches until he felt hidden and secure. Although he had virtually no knowledge about tending to wounds, he knew that he needed to stop bleeding. Removing his bandana from his pocket, he wrapped it and tied it around his missing finger. It hurt to touch anything, especially the bandana, but he got used to the pain.

The knife clattered to the ground, a glint of steel amongst the dull wood protruding from the pit. Loft pursed his lips; it looked like his knives weren't as good at ignoring graa-vuh-tee as he was. His prey turned to glare at him, and Loft grinned and waved.

"Hi!" He called, his Bunny Hood flopping from the movement. "My name's Loft- what's yours?"

He never got a response. The boy ignored him, climbing back up to the Arena proper. Loft pouted for a moment as he watched his opponent run over. He saw a long flash of steel, his eyes widened, and he knew that he was about to get skewered. He felt a flash of terror that disconnected all thought and concentration- all he knew was the long expanse of steel that was trying to mate with his skull.

In his blood-thumping terror, he forgot all about ignoring the earth's pull. His feet disconnected from the wall, and he fell down into the pit. The sword passed harmlessly through the air where his head had once been, but he barely registered that, too busy spinning through the air and grabbing a nearby wooden spike. Pain splintered in his arms as wood broke off and embedded into his skin, but it didn't matter- he had stopped falling.

Loft exhaled shakily and looked back up to the side of the Arena, which was a good dozen feet above him. His playmate was gone- he'd probably made like a mouse and scampered away after the one attack. Loft was sad that he was alone, but it was alright; they would find each other again soon. For the time being, he would drop to the floor and find his knife. Then he would walk back to the surface and find the boy who'd been too rude to give him his name.

[[Hey, just a friendly word of advice: you advanced pretty far in that post, both in terms of time and in terms of actions made. One of the neat things about RP'ing is that your partner responds to all actions made, but when you say "I made X action, then Y action, then Z action after that," it means that the partner is limited in how they can respond to actions Y and Z, because none of their actions could prevent Y and Z from occurring. In RP terms, we call that blocking. Don't worry, I'm not mad, lol- I'm just giving you a tip. c: ]]

The bleeding stopped... finally. The burning tree's fire still burned bright, as if the sun were up, illuminating the bleachers around Slink through the leaves. Speaking of the bleachers, did that audience ever sleep? Regardless, the pain in his finger was not as bad as before, although his bandana was now soaked with blood. No matter - whatever it takes to survive. Now, about finding Leaf and getting back at him. "An eye for an eye, they say..." Slink told himself. He actually didn't know if anyone ever said that, and if anyone had, it was probably while fighting a Teketite or something...

Slink dropped from the tree, eager to find the boy. Maybe he could be forgiven, but Leaf did almost try to kill him. Slink found it easier to think about his strategy while training, which he had already begun sparring with the air. We could try to work things out, before I knock him out, since he hasn't had many successful attempts to kill me. But I better come prepared for a fight, in case things get dirty.

The flickering light of the flames filled the Arena with an unsteady, wavering red light. A boy stood on the Arena floor, his blonde hair seeming to take on the color of strawberries in the firelight. He was closer to the edge than the center- much closer, in fact- and he showed no signs of changing this. For this was not an ordinary boy, no. This was a puppet, created and controlled by the musical magic of its master, born by his spirit and inhabited by the same. If he were to stray too far from his master's unoccupied body, the magical link between them would be severed, and the spirit would leave the host and return to its rightful partner.

The statue was not a perfect copy. While every fiber of hair, every stitch of clothing, was identical to the original form, the face was undeniably and hideously altered. An insane smile of pure madness stretched across the vessel's face, and its eyes were simultaneously filled with a maniacal energy and utterly emptied of all life and hope. Some said that the statue's face was a reflection of its creator's darkness. Some disagreed and said that the face was what the creator most feared in the world above all else. Still others claimed that the statue's face was what the creator was afraid to become if his inner darkness freely reigned.

But the laughter that echoed through the Arena showed that the boy cared not for introspection. His voice was a calling, an invitation, to his enemy. "Hello?" The cry could be clearly heard from all corners of the Arena. Thus was his call. "Where are you? I miss you- where did you go? We were playing so well together, but then you left. I feel sad; I want my playmate back. Won't you come play with me again?"

The echo reached Slink's tuned ears, and even he could not help being creeped out by its apparent intentions. Both he and Leaf were put into this arena for some reason, and he doubted that his intentions were true. But this wasn't the Lost Woods, and Slink could not hope to have any successful ambush with the implements at his disposal as he had realized. No, he had to show his superiority in one-on-one combat, and doing that required finding his opponent. As unhelpful and murderous as they were, the mob caging them in the arena was good for giving away hiding spots. So why not hide in plain sight? With that, Slink made his way toward the center of the field, each step made him no less wary of his surroundings. Upon arrival, he could not help but notice the image of an all-too-familiar figure in the distance.