08-16-2017, 04:46 PM
Dust may find it odd, but Takezo did not have a look of disgust for the man. There were many things darker in the world than using another person for their talents. In fact, it was quite common in his time. It was merely a sad fact of life. His lazy lids rest low as he peers at Dust, listening and absorbing as much information as his inebriated mind could. He might not remember all of this, but he would sure try. It would be disrespectful otherwise.
He did not forget Gildart's challenge though. Not in so many words. It was held on to for the few moments it took for Dust to reveal his story. It was darkened like the other two stories here. Tainted by misfortune and circumstance. "I find it an odd coincidence... Many feared me, call me a demon even... Gildarts' power was too great he seems to fear even himself," at least how Takezo understood it, "and people of your world sought the power you possessed for their own ends..." A smirk slowly forms as the idea slowly spills into words. "Three great warriors troubled by their own power... and we just happened across one another... on a deserted island... with alcohol..."
Gildarts and Dust exchanged looks for a moment. They had an inkling where the man was going with this. "We are immortal. A spar without consequence sounds more like music than your magic noise maker." The man stood, his stance unbalanced and staggering. He was pretty far gone, it seems, but he held the wine gourd firm. The man began a few stretching exercises, each comical in the way he nearly toppled over - usually head first.
"Are you sure you can fight like that?" Dust inquired, a bit worried the alcohol had increased Takezo's bravado. The moment he completed the question, he shook his head. "Nevermind," he adds, "almost forgot who I'm talking to."
Gildarts was still a bit worried. He had never witnessed Takezo in combat, so he had only stories to go on. "I don't know about 'no consequences.' You could end up dead, you know. It's not--"
"Not what?" Takezo faced the crash mage with a massive grin. "My first death was almost pleasant. I drifted in darkness, reliving a grand fight, my chest burning, reminding me that somewhere, my heart had been ripped from my chest and was left to rot." That was definitely colorful. "Besides," he continued, "we don't have to aim to kill. If it happens, oh well. Meet me at the fountain with a change of clothes and food."
The ronin's wording caught Dust. It seemed he expected to be the casualty in the fight. "You don't think you can keep up?"
"A swordsman never draws his blade whilst under the influence. It is a dishonorable disp--" Speaking of dishonorable, the swordsman stumbled over absolutely nothing, tossing back over the log he had been sitting on. His sandal clad feet rise into the air, along with the wine gourd. "Not a drop spilled!" The gourd vanished behind the lumber as the warrior took another swig. With a grunt, he rolled onto his side then shot to his feet, stumbled, then righted himself. "But fret not! As warriors, I will show you no mercy!"
He did not forget Gildart's challenge though. Not in so many words. It was held on to for the few moments it took for Dust to reveal his story. It was darkened like the other two stories here. Tainted by misfortune and circumstance. "I find it an odd coincidence... Many feared me, call me a demon even... Gildarts' power was too great he seems to fear even himself," at least how Takezo understood it, "and people of your world sought the power you possessed for their own ends..." A smirk slowly forms as the idea slowly spills into words. "Three great warriors troubled by their own power... and we just happened across one another... on a deserted island... with alcohol..."
Gildarts and Dust exchanged looks for a moment. They had an inkling where the man was going with this. "We are immortal. A spar without consequence sounds more like music than your magic noise maker." The man stood, his stance unbalanced and staggering. He was pretty far gone, it seems, but he held the wine gourd firm. The man began a few stretching exercises, each comical in the way he nearly toppled over - usually head first.
"Are you sure you can fight like that?" Dust inquired, a bit worried the alcohol had increased Takezo's bravado. The moment he completed the question, he shook his head. "Nevermind," he adds, "almost forgot who I'm talking to."
Gildarts was still a bit worried. He had never witnessed Takezo in combat, so he had only stories to go on. "I don't know about 'no consequences.' You could end up dead, you know. It's not--"
"Not what?" Takezo faced the crash mage with a massive grin. "My first death was almost pleasant. I drifted in darkness, reliving a grand fight, my chest burning, reminding me that somewhere, my heart had been ripped from my chest and was left to rot." That was definitely colorful. "Besides," he continued, "we don't have to aim to kill. If it happens, oh well. Meet me at the fountain with a change of clothes and food."
The ronin's wording caught Dust. It seemed he expected to be the casualty in the fight. "You don't think you can keep up?"
"A swordsman never draws his blade whilst under the influence. It is a dishonorable disp--" Speaking of dishonorable, the swordsman stumbled over absolutely nothing, tossing back over the log he had been sitting on. His sandal clad feet rise into the air, along with the wine gourd. "Not a drop spilled!" The gourd vanished behind the lumber as the warrior took another swig. With a grunt, he rolled onto his side then shot to his feet, stumbled, then righted himself. "But fret not! As warriors, I will show you no mercy!"