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Post by Deleted on May 6, 2014 1:47:00 GMT -5
In his defense, Lex Luthor remained far from confused. He recognized Ra's plans quickly enough, to throw him off balance, to distract, to move. He understood the basics of the strategies, and he clung closely to logic and intellect as he had little else to go on. His skill was no match, at times knowledge provides the pathway to liberation and power, but at other times knowledge simply meant that one could see destruction ahead of time. In this situation, in this setup, in this place, Lex Luthor could run the fight in his head over fifty times while Ra's approached, but in not one of them did Lex Luthor win.
Lex Luthor raised his sword to try to block, keeping his vital organs protected as he attempted to gain distance, to move backwards, watching Ra's. He'd brought his sword up to block the feint, leaving the opening for the final strike. The move of an amateur, but then again. . . he was an amateur. He exhaled and tried to move the sword and his body away from the blow, but it struck true into his arm.
He winced, and flashed his options through his mind. He had a few right now, but he was here to learn from the Master in this antiquated lifestyle. He skills of fencing and the work of the older methods were disciplines of the mind to be mastered, transformed and integrated into another mindset. "I use the tools I have at hand, sir. I lack the skill, so I use the logic to attempt to balance. " He stood gain in a basic ready position, watching how Ra's stood and attempting to stand in a similar way, mirroring the stance as best as possible. He exhaled and stared at her. The glance at the girl, in the shadows. He pushed his emotions down, away, no time for them now. He'd hear laughter in shadows under moonlight tonight. He lacked the acrobatic style of Ra's, and in fact moved like a desperate man with limited training. The kata forms provided some basic muscle memory, but little use in this fight.
"Necessity sometimes requires mercy, though. Does it not? I've seen too many men show cruelty and believe it to be strength." He swallows once and does not attack. He can see how quickly Ra's can move, and knows that any attack would be blocked and then responded to by another unblockable strike. "Pragmatism, is strength. . . whether that be mercy or punishment. Perhaps one day I'll see mercy as a protector." He takes a step forward to try to position himself in a place where the sun would move into Ra's eyes, just a casual step to try to use Ra's circling as an advantage. He flicked his wrist shifting the position of the sword to try to reflect sunlight into Ra's face before attempting a quick strike.
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Post by Deleted on May 13, 2014 14:33:44 GMT -5
Continue to press the attack, moving into any advantage that opened to him, Ra’s pivoted the sword around in his palm, reflecting the sunlight from the metal into Lex’s vision so that he may disorientate his opponent before finishing him. There is little room for honour in a sword fight; the combatants must be willing to do anything in order to defeat their opponent, even if it meant using under handed tactics to foil their victory. Still a fully trained assassin would hopefully not require falling back on these tricks with their present outstanding skills. Ra’s merely saw an opportunity and took it. Lex would need to learn to deal with attacks which would move against his natural weaknesses, and how to avoid them in the future.
“A balance between mercy and cruelty is key. If a man is too kind, his enemies will see him as weak. If he is thought to be barbaric, no man will wish to serve him willingly. Serve your enemies fire and steal but when your allies bend the knee, you must always be willing to help them back up to their feet.” Although capable of terrible actions, Ra’s always did so with an objective in mind, with those who some would deem innocent as a necessary sacrifice for the greater good. Wanton cruelty never served any purpose yet an abundance of mercy could be just as dangerous. “The League is justice, not mercy. There can be no exceptions if Humanity is to improve.”
Arching his elbow into Lex’s cheek after smashing away his defence, Ra’s slammed Lex against a column, swinging his sword into the rock just before the Young Man managed to move out of the way. A splinter of rock sprung from the gap torn by the sword, though the Demon was quick to recover from the attack although the vibrations still ran from his wrist and up to his shoulder. Turning back around to face Luthor, his flowing green robes lined with golden dragons moved with him gracefully through the air, hanging loosely from his body while covering the white trousers below. One arm placed behind his back in an iconic fencing position, his legs arched at the knees, Ra’s made for another attempt, lunging towards his opponent, maintain his calm demeanour.
Again the swords clashed with sparks jumping from the colliding blades. Now Ra’s was ready to move in for the kill. Bringing the sword around his head with a flick, he brought the blade down upon Lex’s, knocking it from his palm. With in a flash, he had the sword brought up to Luthor’s throat yet a smile shone for Ra’s face as he stretched his hand out after pulling the sword away. “We learn from our mistakes, so that they do not kill us in the future.”
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Post by Deleted on May 23, 2014 1:21:27 GMT -5
The disorienting blinding caused him to step back, it was a desperate gambit but one that was necessary, and easily blocked. He closed his eyes and bring his sword back to protect his neck, upright and with a sudden swing. It would protect his most important assets, because he knew the blinding would follow another swing. This was a move of desperation, he had no leverage at this point, and part of him realized that he needed some quickly. This was a battle to prove himself, and to be the man he was meant to be. He had little choices, no options, few alternatives. His only weapon was the sword, and the environment. . . the rocks. . . like the rocks underground. They'd spark when struck . . . a thought crossed Lex Luthor's mind, a realization he'd made when asked to clean the latrines and threatened with beating by the Master. Same stones below as above. . . it would require fuel. Down there he had the excrement, up here he only had his outfit, the sword and nothing else. . . his outfit, which he wore while constructing the drone, he'd . . . must remember.
A flash through his mind quickly, he'd put together the missile, the fissile material. . . the gel, the explosive gel. He'd had no gloves so he worked carefully. Wipe his forehead in the heat, wipe his hands, no water. The edge of his cloak would still be saturated with the stuff. Not much, but enough to work as an ignition if the stone was struck quickly enough. He tore off his cloak while stepping back, wrapping it in one hand as if to make to throw it at Ra's. Ra's would see through that move quickly, and pushed the attack.
"I understand what you're telling me. A balance between mercy and cruelty. . . but Justice? A Justice League? What is Justice, master, but the judgement of one upon another? " He's desperate, but trying to keep the calmness in his voice. Leave an opening perhaps, move closer, he's knocked in the face against the column. Lex Luthor wipes the edge of his cloak against it, back against the wall, bracing himself to balance, but of course there were deeper motivations. Quickly, he spun out of the way to avoi the sword, the splinter of rock did its trick, although it would take a moment to catch, if it caught at all. . . not enough spark. . . but wait, just a bit of flame, an edge. . .
He felt the attack draw close twisting his blade slightly to drag against the metal, trying hard to both stop the assault directly on him, and then to cause the sparks to exacerbate. His movements were not graceful, nor fluid, nor beautiful, but the results were impressive enough, sparks landed on his cloak, there was a faint sound and sizzle as Lex smiled, tearing his cloak off as the sword arced through the air. Ra's caught it in midair and posed dramatically with his final line against Lex's throat, just as Lex's cloak swung around flung at close range into Ra's and the swords. In midair en route it ignited into a bright and powerful flame, orange and blue and bright. Even disarmed, Lex Luthor truly was never unarmed. The swords would keep them from Ra's face, but the surprise would fill his view and free Lex's neck.
At the moment that Ra's might slightly back towards the column as it ignited, and the world caught fire with flash and heat around him. The fires would not burn the Master, he would be too quick for them, but it would be enough to catch him from surprise. Lex was unarmed, the Master had made certain of that. He was alone and untrained, and yet he made fire from the land and from his surroundings in midfight.
His hair was free and bright red, surrounded by the fires he glared at Ra's al Ghul, he was the inferno itself, the spark of creation. Though young, he was a man of his age already, history would likely not forget Lex Luthor. He let the flaming cloak drop to the ground as he bowed. "I yield to the master. I see, I have much to learn."
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Post by Deleted on May 23, 2014 2:08:08 GMT -5
As she sat poised, her eyes rolled. She had heard the same admonishments from her father before. And felt the sting of a sword not like the extension of her own being. It was time and time again until she learned how to be one with the blade did she finally learn. So the fact that Hariq was not doing well against her father made her disheartened. Even at her age she had learned, surpassed and excelled in most areas of sword-fighting as well as the arts. It was for her that to kill with an object in her possession was far less likely than she were to do it without.
So in the shadows she observed. Her father had kept her from the man her age for months. Until she had followed him. Sought him out. He had shared with her his own tools and she had tried to impart her knowledge of them as well. He had no fear of death and in that they were able to bond. His tools and toys kept him from it, he'd claim. Her own bloodline kept her pure, and from death as well, she'd counter. It was blunting to speak with him, for he had pride like no other man she'd know save for her father. And to her, her be all, end all was Ra's al Ghul; a man she strove with her every breath, every fiber of her being to prove she was his rightful heir despite her birth proving her to be of the wrong gender.
So as the two men parried and spoke, she let her mind wander but not her wits. She was acutely aware of what her father was speaking on. She was aware of what Hariq was countering with; both verbally and physically. It was only when the metallic clatter shifted in her ears did she focus her eyes on the two. Again there was flame in the darkness. Yet there was no storm within the chamber. Talia observed acutely as the younger man moved swiftly. She'd refused to fight with him while he wore his robes and carried his tools. It was not pure. It was cheating, she'd countered against him. She had bested him numerous times when he had pulled out this or that, her hands and her scarves more than a match for him. But she had not come away unscathed, for he utilized an interesting array of items; fire, flame, an object that caused a piercing shock, not only though her body, but he utilized another that caused her ears to ring. That instance she had dropped him in seconds, her knee to his chest as her gaze silenced not only him but his tool. She'd refused to spar with him for nearly a week after that.
He was inelegant. And while they had argued about such benefits and costs of his carrying about such contraptions, she would still argue he needed to be able to use the purest form he had been gifted; his form. He would come back at her with his most blessed form being his mind. It was an ongoing argument that never came to a conclusion. He was dependent on anything but himself.
So as she watched him yet again bring about flame and spark she could also note his stress. He was faltering, his resolve wavering. But even as he had won this fight, he submitted. A grand performance, but just that. He did not respect the Demon. His actions were not pure. He used tricks. Her lips pursed.
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Post by Deleted on May 26, 2014 8:27:45 GMT -5
“We all have much to learn, Mr. Luthor.” He replied moments before the Student set his own weapon on fire, an impressive use of ingenuity which caught Ra’s entirely off guard. Stepping back from Lex in a daze, so that he would not feel the piercing embrace of the flames, Ra’s al Ghul’s eyes reflected the orange embers which danced from the flaming cloak. The heat from the burning object warmed Ra’s’ tanned face further in the desert heat, as the fire sucked the oxygen from the already dry air. Around the two fighters, an array of applause cried out from the spectators as they admired the American’s quick thinking to solve a problem, in which he used his mental advantage to overcome the challenge. “Clearly, with a mind like yours, you shall never be disarmed.”
As the flame was stamped out upon the floor, Ubu lumbered from the crowd carrying the scabbard for Ra’s’ sword, dropping to one knee as he offered it to his Master. A sweet noise screeched as the sword was dropped back into its holding, the sound of metal scraping against metal. Placing the scabbard to his belt, it was clear that the show was over so the crowd dispersed and went back to their original business. “Come, let us speak with Talia. We have much to discuss.” Another servant brought Ra’s a cotton sage cape to wear over the light and airy tunic he wore. The two of them left the courtyard, Ra’s’ fingers sliding over the gash he left in the wall as he passed the column. Stroking his bearded chin while talking, the Father noticed the Daughter watching from the shadows; no doubt she caught the fight.
“Justice is balance. Criminals make our World bleed so in turn they shall bleed. We are beyond the simple laws of any ‘government’, as we work for a higher power. Our role is to save the World from falling into chaos and anarchy, with the constant goal of a society with order and purpose, where all may stand equal.” A perfect World which many will see as only a fantasy however Ra’s al Ghul firmly believes that it can become a reality if done properly. The average person will resist change, as they always have yet this new world order will occur none the less. For all to be equal, temptation must be removed, the temptation to be better than your fellow man. “The cause of crime and sin is free will, if removed no one will have the chance to do follow their animalistic urges.”
“Everyman wishes to follow their own selfish desires, resulting in the World we see today. Those who oppose us, oppose the chance Humanity has to improve itself. Their taint must be removed.” Continuing to explain the reasoning behind the League, the pair approached Talia al Ghul. She had a tanned complexion like her father and the same dark sensual hair color. Clearly she was Ra’s al Ghul’s daughter; they were physically similar besides the gender difference with little of her mother left in her. “Talia, no doubt you have met Mr. Luthor. His skills will no doubt be a credit to our organization, as will his economical influence.” His tone had a deep lack of empathy directed towards his Daughter though she was used to his disapproval of her, his critical eye ever watching as she attempts to prove her worth. Though she did have her uses, as would become clear.
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Post by Deleted on Jul 21, 2014 21:18:08 GMT -5
"With the right eyes, the world itself is a weapon. My old mentor taught me that once." Well, actually he said 'If you keep your eyes open you'll see anything can kill you' but Luthor liked to be proactive and outward thinking. He was placed in a desperate place without resources, and that was not a place Luthor was comfortable with. He knew that he had impressed the Master, but that in any real fight, it wouldn't even be a battle. . . but slaughter. Lex realized at that moment the real lesson. Never be disarmed, never fight on your enemy's terms. He bowed again to the master and followed him to Talia. He smiled at her faintly, but tried to keep the impression from his face. Yes, he knew her shadow, the laughter coming from the dark places in the night when curiosity had overcome caution. She said he blundered like a fool, loud and brash. . . she said that he moved with no grace.
“I wonder, sometimes, Master, if it is free will that drives people, or just the hungers and fears that push them forward." He shakes his head as he listens to the master, nodding . . . he too saw a world of equality, of order, of opportunity. . . but he knew too well the sting of hunger, the pang of desperation, the urge to ignore the laws of men that sought to promote inequality. Lex Luthor didn't believe that all men were made equal, but he believed that all men should be given the chance to strive for greater than their circumstances. The thought of a world where man was not slave to animalistic urges or rages.
“I understand, this, Master. The tragedy of the commons, the selfishness of the individual." And he did, he recalled greatly the selfishness of others, the way that the men of the slums ate eachother and fought. He thought once upon a lesson given earlier, in a gentler time. Thaddeus Sivana, aged mentor standing near a stainless steel countertop in a kitchen, one of the informal dinners of the symposia he gathered around him. Beautia smiling as she carried a basket, Georgia and Junior arguing, Niles Caulder trying to flirt with Beautia, Martin Stein laughing. Beautia was cooking . . . and Lex felt a brief and fleeting moment of community, coupled again with alienation. No one understood his genius. Almost no one. Sivana had seen him as his own, and taken him as protoge, and he recalled the message
Look there, Alexander. Do you want to know humankind? Look there. A pot of lobsters. Each one of them. . . climbing, striving to flee their fate. If they were to be left alone, some might escape. . . if they were to work together, all might escape. . . but no, see how they drag those down who strive ahead. . . that is humanity, Alexander. To tear down rather than to rise up. That is the bane of all genius!"
There was an odd temptation at the idea that the Master suggested here. To create a world where the crab would not tear down crab. A world where genius was recognized and the selfishness of men could be bypassed, harnessed maybe. . . a world with a better future. The thought of changing the world had occurred to Lex Luthor, who'd spent much of his childhood simply trying to survive the vagaries of fate and to transcend them. Age 17, successful, safe . . . he'd succeeded beyond all possibility. Sivana had put into him an understanding of unfairness and the power of science to change the world. .. but it was Ra's al Ghul who he needed to learn from. The great world-shepherd, who could see the failures of the species and seek to surpass them, to see the unfairness of the world and shape it. He had wisdom, experience, power. . . and he was in many ways, the only man in the world that Lex could learn the craft from, the power of the mind, the strength of the will, the hand of misdirection.
Though Lex thought much of himself, and knew himself to be the rising sun in the stage of history, he knew that at this moment, Ra's al Ghul was still the master. His economic influence, newly gained, secondary to his genius. He'd merely monetized innovation and the ideas going through his mind. Really, it was simply a matter of looking at the system and understanding its rules, when they could be used, when they could be bent, when they could be changed. . . and when they could be broken. Strength of will and cunning in negotiation had allowed him to parlay his genius into wealth quickly, and he'd multiplied wealth. The system was rigged, wealth created wealth almost effortlessly, and once the first several million were made, the rest was easy. He wasn't sure how much he was worth yet, but it was growing, although the money was secondary to his real needs. Money was easy. . . what he intended to do was impossible.
But Talia, Talia he hadn't expected, or understood. She was unimpressed with him, yet remained a mystery. She used subtlety where he used force, she used craft where he used innovation, she used mastery of the art where he cheated at the game. In many ways they were opposites, similar only in the strength of their will and in the knowledge of the stage they would play upon. He admitted to himself. . . he found her interesting.
He didn't speak to her though, his eyes said it all, and how they stared into hers with a curious intensity. He instead said to the Master "I am prepared to learn, Master. All that you are willing to teach."
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Post by Deleted on Aug 1, 2014 21:10:48 GMT -5
Watching unmoving as the fight was ended she waited. She would wait as always until her father summoned her. To do elsewise would garner her the better of two punishments, the worse which would be death. He had dealt her less for worse. But this was different. No man bested her father. No man produced flame from nothing. But as little as she was aware of her father knowing, she knew Hariq. Was aware how his mind had been tainted, yet somehow enhanced by his Western ways. Magicks, she had argued. Technology, he had countered with. And so on had gone their passionate dissembling of what constituted such a magic, be it the practices she was aware of, or his Western ways.
So when his blade had been sheathed, she rose from where she had been kneeling astride the pillar. She had been summoned, and so forth stepped from shadow like an inkly breath. She was clad in a swirling of silks and thin tunics much like her father, a swatch of green silk pooled around her throat. Later she could draw it over her hair and lower half of her mouth but there was no need for it now. Hariq could be considered a friend as they had traded knowledges. The tone in which her father addressed her was less than that to a pet but she was indifferent. It spurned her on in every endeavor she set her heart to. And when that failed, she learned, picked herself up and tried again, with her mind, or be it her wits.
So when she came to stand before the teen, she did not bow, nor flinch to the peculiar boy-not-man with hair kissed by the flames. Her chin shifted merely; a blink and the small shift upward would be missed. Of course she had noted the fight. Her father would have thought less of her for not finding a way to observe. So while she stood before this pupil of her father, her own luminous eyes meeting his wordlessly.
At least he intoned the proper words to her father, as their eyes continued locked in an unspoken dialogue.
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