Nighttime Dance Off
- Job Description:
- Job Title: Nighttime Dance Off
Rank: C Rank
Job Location: Boomslang
Solo Word Count: 1,500 words
Group Word Count: 2,500 words
Additional Requirements: D ranks with a partner may take this
Job Description: A challenge has been set forth, 10,000 jewel to all those who can out dance the greatest dancer. Gather when the night sky is bright but hidden, as you'll be dancing on the neon floor of 'Boomslang' a well known Club in Crocus. You can choose the song or style of dance, ballroom or break dancing you need to impress the crowd with your charisma, uniqueness, nerve and talent. Multiple people may participate and all those who are noticed on the crowded floor will be given the reward, once you have the reward you need to leave, fast. For every person there will try to pickpocket or steal the jewels, the reward is only yours once you have left the club.
Enemies: You have the ability to decide on the enemies strength, if they appear, and can create any other enemies if you so wish, these are just ideas so get creative.
• Rollerblades, thats right, some punk has come forth, scantily clad although that is not what keeps her winning. Its the wheels on her feet that allow her to glide whilst break dancing
• Whilst it may have started off to be a fun activity it has come with dangers, apparently someone thought it would be good to bring blades, sneaking them past the bouncers you now face off against a sword dancer in luxurious garb! It will take more than moving your hips to out dance this skilled blade dancer.
• Cosmic fire dancer, well now would be the time to sneakily use your magic. For this person has cleared the floor quite literally by using colored fire to make a statement. All challengers who get close have their hair singed off and many have been reduced to simply watching the flames devour oxygen.
Reward: 10,000j
When Zachariah was asked to work a job at the Boomslang, he figured it was a sting operation of some sort. He had rehearsed lines of small talk and investigative questions in his head, anticipating being a bartender or some similar occupation. Though, when he arrived at the disco his jaw dropped in shock. He felt almost compelled to quit and leave, but he would never stop beating himself up over it if he did. An employee on rollerblades swiftly came up to him and tossed him a lavender sequin shirt and bright white pants. Before Zachariah could protest, the woman in the afro was lost on the floor. From what he’d researched about the Boomslang, the club’s theme changed nightly. Tonight, he supposed, was disco night.
- Entering the Club:
Even more repulsive, he thought, and left to go change. In the break room, he stuffed his clothes into the lockers and shakily looked at himself in the mirror. It wasn’t quite his style. The shirt was made of a rough, wooly fabric on the inside, but comprised of shiny, smooth purple sequin on the outside. He held together the pieces at the top, but they lacked buttons and revealed miles of skin underneath. His scars and guild tattoo were exposed for the world to see as well, another unsightly horror. Though, Zachariah couldn’t decide what was more ill-fitting; the shirt, or the bell-bottomed pants. They tapered at the knee, but flared out again at the ankles and flowed in his pace. He felt hot in the neck and embarrassed to be seen with it. Much to his reassurance, he found a pair of sunglasses on an end table by the door and sneakily threw them on. The minute he hit the dance floor, eyes stuck onto him like magnets. He felt like a different person himself—perhaps it was the shades. There was definitely an eerie, funky feeling in the Boomslang. A magical component seemed to give rhythm to his hips and feet. The crowd, previously bumping and grinding, now parted before him, leaving him face to face with an ethereal looking woman in a white jumpsuit. She pointed at the disc jockey and shouted, “Play that funky music!” and the club trembled with remixed saxophone and cheering people.
- Track 1:
The woman began to snap her way towards Zachariah, controlled limp in her step and provocative sway in her hips. Zachariah hesitantly tapped his foot, but decided to embrace his funky persona. His arms gained a mind of their own and wriggled in pulsing waves. He shuffled closer to the woman across from him, stomping on the beat of the drum. “You here for that jewel, boy?” she teased. “You’re going to have to try harder than that.”
Zach laughed and struck a pose on his toes, unbothered. “I could say the same thing to you,” he mocked, earning a bitter look. A triage of disco balls descended from the ceiling and hovered above the pair. The tempo heightened in speed, forcing Zach’s feet to move at lightspeed. His skin suddenly began to glow in a spectrum of colors, illuminating the air around him. The Lightspeed Beatdown suddenly fueled his dance moves, moving his body with incredible agility. The woman slowly lost the ability to keep up and began to trounce on Zach’s personal space. He easily evaded, ducking and swerving with the music. Finding himself inching closer into the bar that surrounded the dance floor, he threw himself into the air and somersaulted onto the table, landing in a disco pose. His fingers pointed towards the ceiling and ground, accidentally firing Prismatic Darts into the crowd. The lasers struck the disco ball and fiery neon beams burned through the Boomslang. The crowd cheered, and three black suited, afro donning men entered from the surrounding groups of people. The woman Zach had been dancing against seceded and now hid behind the bar, drinking from the bottles of the top shelf and slinking to the floor.
“Done already?” Zach huffed, exasperated. His skin lost its glow when the song ended, but his heart still raced, waiting for the next to begin. He slid down from the highboy, expecting the guards to apprehend him, but instead they nodded their heads to a new song. Zachariah followed the colored spotlights that focused on the center of the Boomslang. A hole opened up in the floor and a man in shimmering platinum sequin rose from beneath. He was a black-haired fellow with a long greasy braid of shiny, space colored hair. He glowered at the ground, tough and impregnable gaze like chiseled stone. Two of the top buttons of his shirt were undone in a similar fashion to Zachariah’s. He produced a slim dagger from his breast pocket and tossed it Zachariah’s way and he immediately shifted to the side. The knife didn’t graze his skin, but severed apart the buttons and revealed the torso underneath. The crowd gasped and pointed, both at his Sabertooth tattoo and at the purple scars on his side.
“I believe those sunglasses are mine, mage,” he reproached. “I believe those sunglasses are mine, mage,” he reproached. The man emanated a powerful presence, but Zachariah knew he was stronger. Under the influence of the drums and steamy synth beats, Zachariah felt unstoppable. Though, the most notable feature on the man—and the first thing Zach noticed—was the man’s blank white eyes. “Will I have to take them forcefully, then?”
Zachariah, who’d typically feel out of place being exposed had it not been for the glasses, was not about to give them up. “Not a chance,” he retorted, and approached with a pip in his step. The opened flaps of his shirt glided with his body as he hit the crowd with a strong funk. The crowd nodded its head in approval, quietly murmuring all right all right. The spacey haired man tapped his toes and replied to Zachariah with a mix of disco and hip-hop dance moves. He moved with great agility and flexibility, almost too fast for Zachariah. But, Zachariah’s youth and extensive stamina as a mage could turn the tide in the blink of an eye. Though, dance proved to be a curveball for him, straying from his usual forte in battle. He intensely preferred a heated battle for the jewel, thinking it would be more dignified than dancing in sequins. But, he bit the bullet and carried on dancing. After all, he chose this job himself. You dug this grave, he thought, now lay in it. If the man had any intentions of being forceful, he failed to physically express it.
- Track 2:
His skin once again began to glow, limbs moving at near light speed as the music sped up. He didn’t activate the spell itself, rather the music did. The groovy rhythm synchronized with his heart and vibrated with his veins. Zachariah shuffled and bent his body in near-impossible feats. He dropped to the floor and partially held himself up inches above the ground, the bounced to his feet. The music hit him in waves, relaxing on the off beat to take a breath then performing an unnatural stunt. He twirled and lowered to the ground, b-boying and helicoptering his legs like a windmill. Light beamed out from his soles and caused sparks to fly in every direction. Each beam made a synthesized note when it hit a wall and electrified the dance floor. The ground became cloaked in brilliant neon light, shimmering over everything that stepped upon it. It heated up the club intensely, and Zachariah’s clothes began to burn and blackened holes formed in random places. The glowing floor was hot to the touch, making it hard to stand still for long. So, Zachariah danced even faster, feet almost never touching the floor. The Boomslang dancer proved to be a formidable dancer as well, almost able to keep up with Zachariah’s speed with a unique magic of his own. He reached and snatched the sunglasses from Zachariah’s face a few times, but Zachariah always retrieved it with a smack on the hand. The shades would land on his face, aligning perfectly with his eyes.
Zachariah’s muscles began to ache and he breathed hard, but the Boomslang dancer breathed harder and fell to his knees when Zachariah dropped into a final split. Almost simultaneously, a rain of jewel pelted the dancefloor, and the crowd screamed in ecstasy. Zachariah quickly shot a beam of light through the crystals and blinded everyone in the room, then swiftly gathered the jewels and snuck outside. The two-a.m. air shocked his skin and eyes when he removed the sunglasses. The brittle shades had cracked in the midst of the dance battle, and shattered the moment he held it in his hand. He retrieved his jacket and original clothes, feeling more at home in them. Zachariah then let out a deep breath of relief and walked away from the club, overwhelmingly glad the job was over. He could already tell that he would be sore in the morning, suddenly wishing he grabbed a strong drink before leaving.
WC: 1505/1500
