You activated my trap card!

Sorry, sorry, pardon the pun. It was too enticing to resist.

Anyway, without further ado, I hereby challenge Myth, famed anthro-RPer, to a dueeeel!

A real dueeel! A du---

*Is kicked, Haruhi Suzumiya-style.*

I'll be using Ronald Mastenfrock for this particular duel. He's a basic rogue archetype character, and I'll describe him in my next post. Personally, I'm hoping for somewhat inexperienced characters on both sides.

Anyway, our setting;

A dense rain-forest, with a distinct canopy through which little light filters in. A verdant scent of life fills the air. Mushrooms and other agents of decay run amok at the bottom of the forest, and if you're smart you'll use them to your advantage. There is, for some peculiar reason, barely any animal fauna around, although there are many species of aerial animals that infest the place and occasionally swoop down. Mainly, they are birds, although every so often there is a bat or flying squirrel of sorts.

The rain-forest encompasses a vaguely circular shape 209.7 mi. in radius at its shortest point. A very, very broad river meanders through the rain-forest through the middle, and a myriad of strange aquatic life calls the river home. There are slightly evolved piranhas, who have gained the ability to breath air, shark-like fish that are extremely sanguine and ferocious, as well as minnows, tuna-fish, stingrays, the works.

So! I demand you post first, Myth.

A challenger appears!
~ If you can pun, I can too. :p ~


Myth Threetails looked around the strange forest that she suddenly found herself in, her eyes adjusting themselves to the darkness found below the dense canopy of leaves overhead. She started walking again, one arm lax by her side, a cast iron frying pan weighing it down while it's companion swung lightly in time with her strides. Her tails, all three of them, swayed and moved behind her, curling and unfurling as she went her way. One of the prehensile appendages curled itself around a tree as she came to a standstill, ears twitching and alert. The sounds of chirping and the shrill calls of aerial creatures came to her, all but masking the sound of water hidden somewhere deep within the rain forest. Myth yawned lightly, and moved on, her tail unwrapping itself from about the tree. She hoisted the weapon known as Frank onto her shoulder, one paw keeping a firm grip on it's handle. "It's boring here." She muttered, one ear drooping slightly in dismay. Turning in a circle, she looked all about her, wondering why she was there. Scratching at one ear with her free paw, she started marching off, determined to find something to do. There had to be a reason for her being there, and she was going to find it.

"Come on, Frank. Lets go!"

Myth grinned as she marched through the rain forest, her footfalls silent on the forest floor. Frank sat on her shoulder, a comforting weight, and she was suddenly glad that she had worn only light clothes. It was stifling in the still, heavy air where no wind made it's way past the thick canopy, and the moist heat clung to her. She tugged at the neckline of the tank top she wore, frowning as the garment stuck to her fur. Wiping the back of her free paw against her forehead, she stopped to glance around. Silence pressed in on her now, even the chirping of the birds gone. The sudden lack of noise seemed foreboding, a omen of what was to come, perhaps? Whatever the reason for the sudden disquieting feeling, Myth shrugged, and turned in a circle cautiously. She kept her ears and eyes alert, and tensed, ready for what may come.

Ronald Mastenfrock shifted uneasily as the sound of heavy footsteps reached his ears, directly below him. Both his hands were clenched around small daggers, which were both sharpened to cutting edges. The familiar words ran through his head... 'we need you'... 'very important'...

He nodded as swiftly and as quietly as he could. The actual guildmaster of the assassin's guild had given this job to him. Who was he to refuse?

Looking into a rare pool of water that had somehow conveniently held itself up within a layer of large and bowl-shaped leaves, the male examined his reflection. His hair was a scruffy reddish colour, which was covered all over with what seemed to be dirt. His face fared little better; his eyelids looked rather droopy, and there was a small scratch upon his left cheek. With a soft sigh, he shook his head lightly before deciding to dunk his whole head into the water.

As it turned out, it was a pretty damn retarded move.

His head fell through the leaf layer, and he, unexpectedly, fell through the underlying foliage and who-knows-what that infested this forest.

Ronald yelped slightly, vaguely noting his position about six feet behind the person he had been assigned to kill, and flopped and flailed in the air, slightly reminiscent of a person making snow angels. Eventually he fell upon the ground, still flapping for a few seconds, then held still upon the layer of flattened flora he had crushed.

Was that a toadstool he had landed on?

He dusted himself off, ignoring the mushroom juice that had managed to splatter itself on the back of his black hooded cloak. He brandished his daggers, and said in a sing-song voice:

"Oi! Hello, I'm supposed to kill you!"

Myth looked up, her ears twitching, at the sudden noises in the canopy above. The rustling of leaves, and snapping of twigs and branches could be heard, as something descended from above. Birds squawked angrily and wheeled overhead, bursting from the disturbed foliage. Myth tightened her grip on Frank, and turned towards the sounds, wincing as something thudded to the ground not far away. She raised a eyebrow as the cloaked figure got to its feet, dusting itself off. Her eyebrows raised even higher as the thing called out to her in a sing-song voice, "Oi! Hello, I'm supposed to kill you!".

Now, Myth didn't have much experience with assassins, as she assumed the thing was, but she did know that any self-respecting assassin wouldn't go about telling its victim its fate. That was just bad form. She shifted Frank on her shoulder, a frown tugging on her maw as she studied the fellow who was supposed to kill her. Her nose scrunched up as she noted the dirty red hair, and his general disarray. He looked as if he had been crawling about in the wild for a few weeks. Especially now that he had twigs and leaves sticking from his hair and clothes, acquired during his fall.

Shrugging slightly, she decided to take advantage of knowing that the strange fellow before her was to bring her death. Myth darted forward, slinging Frank from her shoulder, and; using the momentum of the move, she swung the heavy frying pan at the assassin at waist height. If the blow hit its mark, the fellow would surely lose his breath, giving her a slight advantage with the next attack she aimed at him, another swipe at his midsection. A slight grin started to grace her maw, as the song of battle began to sound through her veins.

Ronald was winded as the cast-metal frying pan impacted his... erm... area. Wincing, he retreated back a few steps, finally finding a stop as his head made contact with a tree.

"That was a low blow! You're supposed to stand still and take it when I behead you!", Ronald accused of her, pointing oh-so-accusingly. His left hand was cupping his nether regions, as though expecting another blow out of nowhere. The blades were in both of his hands, and his right hand created a rather rude hand signal before he started dashing away into the trees, hoping to lose her in the forest.
Then, he decided, he would think of something else. His hand still covering his man-area, he started to slow his steps, putting more effort in cloaking their existence and silencing his movements.
And then he looked back.
Due to the natural tendency of rain forests to be, well, rainy, he had left many, many footprints in the somewhat damp soil. His eyes nearly popping out of their sockets, he dropped all pretences of stealthiness and dashed away, away, towards the river bisecting the forest in two. Perhaps his scent would mix her up in the river... after all, in the report the guildmaster had given him, she was said to have the properties of an animal... and, naturally, he felt like washing. He smelt like forest anyway, except that his scent was more of the canopy plants than the undergrowth foliage.

Now ending his strange façade of persisting reproductive damage, he gripped both daggers as though his life depended upon it, which, in a sense, it did. His countenance grew as grim as the Reaper himself, and his movements as stiff as a wooden board. A soft sloshy sound started to occur as he headed out towards the now-audible, gurgling river.