Duel

[Aardvark]

The rules of a duel are simple. #1 Winner takes all. No questions asked. As a duel is to the death, this would never be a problem. #2 Duels are to the death. Self explanatory. #3 The challengee can declare defence. This is called whenever the challengee is near someone or something he must defend at all costs, due to rule #4. #4 Once a duel begins, It continues until the end, regardless. Collateral damage of any kind is ignored. The two duelists matter, no more. Anything else destroyed, people included, don't matter. Law enforcement may try to pin a murder on a duelist, but they'll need a truckload of luck to and a sizeable army to succeed. #5 The unwritten rule. Regards rule 4#. If a challengee declared defence, he has to take 3 hits from the challenger. At any time, he may void his defence, then the duel continues as normal. If he takes the hits, the challenger must leave the scene and may not reissue a challenge for a period of 94 hours. This is due to tradition.

 

These duels are part of a code so ancient, it is almost mythology. They still continue because tradition is one of the strongest forces in the world and because the Duelists themselves are almost godlike in sheer power. The remaining duelists number a mere 4. They control much of the known world. But this is also unknown by non-duelists. How they retain control without revealing their true nature is known only to themselves and a select few others. This secret is never to be revealed. This is rule 6#.

 

One such duelist is known as South. He controls, for lack of a better description, the south. South was currently enjoying a night off from his hectic mundane job. The duel was never expected. They rarely are. But South, like the other three, was ready. Even in the state of partial inebriation he was currently residing. He could smell the rival duelist coming a mile off. He knew what was coming and he was scared. A fear all who know they are no match for what they face feel. Although he had time, he didn't have much of it. The alcohol in his system would help, but also hinder. His reactions would be slow, but pain tolerance through the roof. As he sipped his drink, he considered his options. Limited. He also had to think about the other attendees of this gathering. He was responsible for them. He made his decision.

 

The rival, East, made his way into the building with little fanfare. Portals opened to him with little effort. The iron and wood of the structure recognised his power and bent to his will. He noted the various mundanes in various states of mental coherency and dismissed them. None would interfere. Tonight, the south would be his. South was somewhere, he could smell. But where. And what would he do.

 

South would declare defence. The only option open to him. But he knew he couldn't take the full force of East in his current state. He knew East wouldn't use his full power, though. There was always the risk of a void, which would leave East weakened. So he would take the hits. He prayed to the ancient masters for the strength to hold him through this ordeal, for all knew he would need it

 

East finally located South. The two duelists faced off over a sea of mundanes, who had no idea what would eventuate here tonight. East immediately sensed the call of defence. He'd been expecting it. But he still hadn't prepared for it. Of the four remaining, South was known to be the weakest, but only for his lack of duelling. None knew his true potential, so none could prepare properly for such an encounter. He marched up to South and stood a meter from him, staring into his eyes.

 

South felt the gaze as a beam of pure hatred burning into his soul. He resisted, his will defending him from the psyche assault coming from his opponent. He'd used such a technique before, to varying success. His very defence he'd learned from a former opponent. A simple scan. Probe your enemy's mind, find his weakness and exploit. The ability to block such a simple technique was a weakness. One he did not possess.

 

East cursed. The infidel knew the blocking technique. But it would serve him not. He concentrated his energy into his fist and let a single punch fly into his opponent's gut.

 

The mundanes at the gathering heard the slap of flesh on flesh and all felt a strong blow to the head. The sheer force from such an attack pulsed out from the area. Many others even great distances away could feel the attack. They could not identify it, but they could feel it. They could feel the raw energy behind it.

 

South cringed. The attack was less than he expected, but it was still powerful. His flesh muscles had flexed on reflex, trying to absorb the blow, but his psyche absorbed most of it. He knew this would be a relatively weak punch from his equal to the east. He also knew the next would be much, much stronger.

 

East cursed again. That attack had taken a lot from him, but hadn't made a dent in the psyche of his opponent. He gathered up his strength and unleashed another blow, harder, to the chest.

 

The force of this blow radiated outwards. Leaves were blown, drinks knocked over, car alarms set off. The various minor headaches each of the mundanes felt suddenly got so much worse. Dogs in the surrounding buildings who had begun barking after the first blow were silenced by the second.

 

South staggered under the force of the blow. Pain burned through his flesh, but he could not give in. Three backwards paces it took to stabilise himself. His mind was burning. The strain from this ordeal was taking it's toll. But he couldn't give in. He sensed East's power waning. Would East risk all for victory?

 

The same thought was bouncing between various neurons in East's mind, too. Was it worth the risk? He'd put a lot of his essence into the two blows. And he knew south was holding back. But East couldn't take defeat. He'd never been defeated before, he wouldn't let his young rival defeat him here. He reached inward with his mind and drew upon every last reserve of strength he had.

 

South knew what was coming before it hit him. Still, with bare moments to prepare, there was nothing much he could do. Time crawled by as East's fist came ever closer to South's sternum. The bastard had gone for a weak point. Trying to use the South's fleshy housing against him. He steeled himself.

 

The third blow struck.

 

Minutes later, a few of the guests of the gathering finally came to. Broken glass was everywhere. The cacophony of screams, sirens and general hubbub was deafening. The altercation had taken mere moments, but the damage done had been tremendous. Of the two duelists, only one remained. Almost passed out on a couch, next to a rather large dent in the wall 10 feet from where he was previously standing, South wore a triumphant grin. East was nowhere to be seen.

[Vigil StarGazer]

Lord of the Gay declare defense and assume Fetus position.

"Ack! Please don't kill me!!!"

 

On a more serious Note, this story is very well written. It takes a very simple idea and translate it into high class drama, suspense, and elation... all within a few paragraphs... The style is clean and the flow is simply elogant

 

This should be made into epsodes and an long running series, something like "HighLander" or even "Buffy the vampire slayer" Mmmmm Buffy....