Round 3 Newcomer: Callan Vs black shadow

[black shadow]

Black Shadow stood back to back with his former opponent. The thought of the two just fighting each other just a few minutes ago caused a chill to run down Black Shadow's spine. He hated his enemies, when a fight started, it would take many hours to calm him down again. But the situation they were in caused that feeling of severe anger he always obtained to die down almost instantly.

As the dead charged, Black Shadow had the chance to fire off a few arrows, sending three piles of bones flying everywhere. It wasn't long though that the skeletons began to overrun the two. Black Shadow pulled out his sword and blocked an incoming attack, getting into a sword battle doing so. The skeleton was strong, but Shadow could not give up. He shifted his feet into a more offensive stance. He threw his sword into a circle, sending the axe his opponent wielded flying, an arm attached to it.

Black Shadow heard a crash come from the glass and looked over to it. It was then that he saw the man jump out the window. A frightened cry came from his mouth as he fell into the darkness below him. Black Shadow then felt a sharp pain hit his leg. His hand snapped down to grab his leg and he fell to one knee. He turned to see what caused the pain. As his head turned he just caught a glimpse of a sword coming down towards his head. Black shadow rolled towards the window, the steel sword of the dead just missing his other leg. He took a look over the edge, seeing only his opponent laying on the ground dazed.

Black Shadow turned back at the dead behind him. I will not die! He thought crawling out of the window and falling twenty feet to his opponent. When he hit the ground, he felt the sharp pain of before rush through his leg. Black Shadow looked down at his leg to check on the damage. Then he realised that he would surely have trouble winning the fight now. His leg was broken, the bone shattered by not only the fall, but also the axe that must have wounded him. Black Shadow then looked up towards the room they just were. Why are they not jumping down after us? It's almost like they're trapped by a magical barrier. He thought as he pulled out an arrow and placed it along the strings of his bow.

Laying there, he scanned his surroundings. To the sides of his there were but walls, and on his back, another forty foot drop. In front of him was the only place he or his opponent could now move. There was a frozen river about sixty feet from the two men, but is seemed that it would not be able to hold their weight. Even if one did survive, it would be days before either could get back to let everyone know who won. All they could do is to wait. The cold easily penetrated the thin layer of cloth wrapping Black Shadow's body. A sharp chill ran up his back, followed by a sharp pain in his leg. He looked over at his opponent, who now seemed to be getting up. He aimed an arrow and awaited the man to stand, then the arrow would fly through the air.

[Callan]

What the hell? Callan thought groggily. He rolled over and brushed snow and hay off his face. One piece stuck more than the others, and he grunted as he parted it from the frozen blood on his face. Blinking his eyes a few times, his sight came back into focus. Behind him rose the great stone walls of the castle. Through the hole in the damaged stained glass window he could see skulls peering down at him, but none dared to press their fleshless heads through the window's threshold. Whatever dark wizardry had summoned them forbid them from leaving their haunted keep it seemed. His teeth started clattering, and this time it was not the eerie circumstances but the cold that caused his shivering. He had been lying halfway between his side and his belly, and the snow had already seeped into most of his clothing.

He brought his hands to his head and gently massaged his temples, working through the events of the past few minutes. At least, he hoped it had only been a few minutes. He remembered leaping through the window and ice encircling his bowels when he saw the fall that awaited him, but little else. Snow and hay blocked most of his vision; it seemed he had made a small crater when he landed. Hay? As he regained more of his senses the reason for the hay's presence became clear. Any Fallien worth his horse would be able to smell the faint musk of the animals, even greatly faded due to time and moisture. The remnants of a stable perhaps? He took a deep breath, using the familiar scent to steady himself and restore his jumbled thoughts.

To his right he could just barely see the hilt of the skeleton's rapier above the snow, and a vague memory of him tossing it aside while falling came back to him. He reached an arm out - already bruising from his impact with the ground - and threaded his hand into the basket hilt to grab the handle. His dagger he could feel some three paces behind him, and brought it sliding through the snow to his left hand through psychokinesis. Sunaris was another matter. He had had a fleeting sense of it when he first launched himself from the window, and he could tell it was falling much further than expected. Now there was nothing. Like a bird far from its nest, he felt vulnerable and almost lonely without his sword's familiar presence in his mind.

Still shivering, he started to stand. Either the fool didn't make it out in time, or he's down here with- his thought was cut short as he saw the black figure in his periphery, close at hand. Before he could turn, a sharp pain erupted in his upper left arm. He made no immediate sound, just dropped his dagger in surprise and stumbled a few steps to his right. Spinning to face his foe, he glanced at the arrow in his arm and then glared at the archer. Rage suffused him, the heat of his anger sheltering him from the cold. "YOU BASTARD!" he roared. "YOU COWARD!"

He had spared this man's life, and had been repaid in ambush. A few more curses passed his lips before giving way to a wordless scream of fury. His dagger forgotten, he ran towards his enemy - less than a horse's length away - and pulled back his arm. As he neared he thrust the sword with hate-fueled strength, aiming to drive the rapier through the archer's heart.

[black shadow]

The hate, the anger that now engulfed the man's eyes, Black Shadow knew that anger well. He feared the end would be near for him. Black Shadow's sword lay under his hip, the hilt nearly falling off. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The thought of his death caused him to almost cry. I have lost every battle I have fought. I have yet to win against an opponent with the relative skill I have. I have yet to kill someone who knew how to fight. I have yet to prove myself. I will prove myself someday. He thought as anger at himself and his opponent built up inside him.

What felt like an eternity waiting for the stab wound to hit him was but three meer seconds. Black Shadow quickly realised though,that he might be able to win. The sword rest on his side, but his reflexes and agility over his opponent may be able to give him an upper hand. He envisioned the pain he would have in order to give himself a little motivation. The cold now had no effect on him. All he could think about was the fact that he would not lose this battle. Not this time. Not again.

No! NO! This is not going to happen! I will not die this easily! He thought as he opened his eyes. The sword was but a foot away from striking its target when black Shadow's reflexes kicked in. He rolled to his left, pain from his leg surged through him. As he got to the end of his roll, he pulled out his sword and sent a slash at his enemies leg.

[Callan]

Callan's growl was curtly ended with a grunt of pain. His rapier connected with the solid ground where the archer had laid only a moment before and the impact sent a dull spasm lancing up the swordsman's arm. The crudely made basket hilt dug into his hand and wrist, cutting into his flesh. Another curse escaped his lips, more exhaled than truly spoken or shouted. The man had rolled away from the attack much faster than Callan would have thought possible, and barely half a second later the shadowy antagonist brought that speed to bear against him.

The shock at seeing his attack fail slowed Callan's response, but even unhindered by surprise he was not sure he would have been fast enough to completely block his foe's blade. He whipped the rapier back, stopping the other sword's path just as it bit into Callan's leg. He fell to one knee with an agonized cry. Using his latent fury as a shield against the pain, he shoved his sword into the ground beside him, using it to boost himself to his feet. The ground here was much harder, likely frozen mud from the time the land was used as a stable. He stood quickly and staggered away from his grounded foe a few paces before gaining his balance.

He bled from his face, arm, both hands, and now his right calf, but the other man's sword had not cut deep enough to render him unable to stand. Despite their constant burn, he managed to disregard the wounds on his face and hands; they were superficial at worst, and the anger and adrenaline that coursed through his body replaced any lost blood for now. His left arm was another matter; the arrow had penetrated deep into his muscle, and trying to move it caused more pain than he could ignore, enraged or not.

Letting his arm hang limp at his side, he advanced once more. Favoring his left leg, he took two steps forward and lunged. With another howl as he lurched, he aimed his rapier at the man's neck. This time his battle-cry was short. He was winded now, and diverted all his strength to the deadly arc he made with his sword.

[black shadow]

The fact that the man still had the energy to continue the fight amazed Black Shadow. It seemed as though it had just begin, very little seemed to happen. It took but one deep breath for him to regain his regular breathing pattern, but his opponent... He was gasping for breath. The endurance training Black Shadow took when he was younger was now paying off.

The final lunge the man have was not as fast as the others, typical for someone as tired as him, yet the attack still was fueled by the anger in the man's eyes. As he watched the rapier, now aimed at his neck, come charging at him, he had one thought. What can I do now?

he lay there for but a second when he realized he would not be able to dodge another one of those attacks. He ha but one option, and he hoped it worked. Black Shadow reached to his back, grabbing one of his steel shafted arrows. As the rapier reached but a foot from its target, Black Shadow used the arrow to block the attack. The sword fell into the ground but an inch next to his neck.

The second part of his plan was in play. As he blocked the sword, he knew he only had one chance. He stabbed his sword into the air, it along with his arm length ending the tip at a height of six foot. He closed his eyes, fearing that if he did not kill his enemy here, he would never win.

[Callan]

The rage dissipated into the frigid air with the steam from his warm blood. His fury could act as buffer to his pain no longer, but with the incensed strength fled also the mad lust for battle. It was this lust that had led him to attack without thought, guiding his body by instinct alone and fueling every action with his wrath. A sort of calm washed over him as he regarded the blade that impaled him. Shock was a fundamental part of this peace to be certain, but it was not the only factor. The return of his thoughts, lost in his quest for revenge against the black clad man's treachery, brought a cool solace to the swordsman's heated mind.

The full effect of his injuries now reached him, each cut sending its own signal of pain. It threatened to overcome the calm, but he held to consciousness. A moment passed with the archer's sword still implanted in Callan's body. It plunged into his upper right chest, just under his collar bone, and emerged out of his back above his shoulder blade. Then the swordsman could not stay on his feet any more, and it took all his presence of mind and body to jerk backwards, stumbling away from his foe and dislodging himself from the blade that had brought both great injury and mental reprieve.

He managed to keep his balance for a couple of steps before toppling backwards, landing hard on his back. A moan escaped his lips before he could stifle it. Think! It was unfortunate that he regained control of his strategic capacity only when he was no longer able to ignore his pain. I've lost more blood than I thought... With gritted teeth he forced his head up enough to regard his foe with one eye (blood prevented him from seeing clearly out the other) and quickly realized how vulnerable he was. If the archer was to pull his bow out again, Callan would be finished. Hell, he could probably crawl over here and murder me without much resistance.

Using his unharmed left leg, he pushed himself roughly backwards. He kicked out, causing his body to spin to the right and using the momentum to roll onto his side. In a final movement less graceful than a bird flying with a damaged wing, he succeeded in spinning further and sliding into a ditch between the other man and the castle's wall. As he fell into the small trench, likely the former resting place of some pack animal's trough, the slanted ground caused him to roll completely over. When he crashed into the other side of the depression, the steel arrow in his left arm bent sharply against the hard earth. He issued a cry of pain, but was unable to do anything but fling himself onto his back, dirt and snow sticking to the blood on his face.

Though his right arm was unscathed save the cuts on his hand and wrist, the thin hole through his chest passed directly through his upper pectoral muscles. As any skilled swordsman knew, you could predict a warrior's next move from the shifting of their chest muscles. Those new to the weapon relied too much on the strength of their arm, not realizing that the true power behind any sword slash came from the chest. Those crucial muscles severed, he had let go of his rapier and left it to fall by the archer's side; he could no more lift a blade than lift a horse.

Except that's not quite true, he thought as the corners of his mouth fought their way into a smirk. Sunaris was gone from his mind for now, no doubt resting at the foot of the cliff behind his foe. His dagger, however, was only seven odd paces from him by a rough telekinetic estimate. Rolling into the ditch had bought him a precious few seconds' shelter, but it could do nothing to staunch the flow of Callan's blood or repair his ravaged muscles. Above him he could still see the stained glass window and the skeletal patrons that still stood just beyond. It seemed the skulls had somehow formed themselves into expressions of sick satisfaction, as if the enchanted bones saw the fight of the living as a form of entertainment.

If I leave this place alive, I swear to come back and raze this castle to the ground, he thought before using neck and abdominal muscles to force his head up once more. A split second of sight was all he needed; he lifted his dagger with his mind, keeping his eyes fixed on his opponent, and fired it directly at the man with all the mental energy he could still muster. The effort left him drained and his head collapsed back to the cold ground before he could see if the weapon struck true. His vision clouded with white as if the whole world was suddenly covered in snow, and a ringing filled his ears as he almost lost consciousness. With immense effort he wrested his mind from the edge of oblivion. Devoid of energy both physical and mental, he doubted he would be able to summon the will to undertake another offensive against his adversary.

[black shadow]

The crimson blood of Black Shadow's foe dripped from his fresh wound. The lust for blood he felt was now fulfilled. There would be no way his opponent would survive that stab. Or so that was what Black Shadow thought. He pulled the sword down again as the man yanked himself from what had just impaled him. The stumbling was easily noticed, a great pain now engulfed his chest. He fell, rolling into a ditch.

I guess that is the victory then. It seemed almost too easy though. Shame, I thought it was going to last longer. Black Shadow thought as he used his right arm to stand stand up, being careful not to place pressure on his leg. It was but one step whenever he noticed the shine of metal appearing to move towards him. His instincts then kicke in.

Black Shadow turned his body and jumped. There was no way of avoiding the dagger that was thrown. His only two options were to take the hit like he was and die, or take the hit with minor injuries. The later was his choice. As the dagger connected with his shoulder, he tried to let out a cry of pain. His severed chords would not allow such a screech to be yelped.

He grabbed his arm, blood now dripping along his jet black cloth. The moisture quickly mixed with the cold, and he began to shiver once more. Shivering began, his body trembling from the terrible mix. Black Shadow rubbed a finger along his new wound, blood flowing out slowly. The grip in the dagger was awkward in Shadow's hands, but that woul mean nothing. He took hold of the dagger, grabbing the hilt and tearing it from his arm. He again wanted to let out a cry of pain.

Time to finish this. he thought as he walked the rest of the way to his enemy, almost falling from his leg pain. As he got to the top if the brim he pulled out another arrow. He placed it along the string and aimed. As he pulled back the string, the pain from his arm almost caused him to let go, though he forced himself to continue. The man lay there, almost passed out, not a single eye moved from side to side. Black Shadow looked a him in happiness at his win, but sadness that it had to end this way. He moved the arrow closer, placing it right up against his heart.

Rest in peace. he thought as he released the arrow.

[Callan]

The blessed clarity Callan had found when his anger receded was now fading. Though he had never been one to overreact to pain, there was simply no way to escape the inevitability of blood loss. He bled from four? five? different places - he couldn't think clearly enough to consider all his injuries individually. He hurt. That much he knew, and that he would not be able to maintain consciousness much longer he knew as well. It was cold. Most of his clothes were soaked from the snow; his jerkin had prevented most of his shirt from getting wet, but did nothing to stop the cold.

I'll never get to feel Fallien's sun on my flesh again, he thought ruefully, tears threatening to emerge from his eyes. This was no place to die, surrounded by snow, the yellow orb now breaking on the horizon a mockery of a true sun. He didn't even know where he was. Trying to force the last remnants of his consciousness to recall his purpose in coming here, he could think of nothing. He vaguely recalled the spending the night before in a tavern, and then he had simply been in the castle, knowing only he had to kill an opponent before they killed him. In that he had failed. His life had been taken by some coward, too weak to show his face or repay Callan for his earlier favor. In flickering bursts the scene in the banquet hall came back to him. He stood poised, Sunaris above his head, ready to sink the blade deep into his opponent's head, cleaving skull and dissecting brain. Why hadn't he just done it? Honor? Fuck honor, he thought bitterly. What was the point of a virtuous action in an honorless world?

The snow and ground beneath him was now coated in red. He was too weak to tell if his dagger had found its mark, but in a way he hoped it had not. If he had managed to slay his foe with his final assault, he had damned himself to lie here on the freezing ground until he succumbed to his injuries. His death was certain, only how much remained of his life was not. When the archer came into view at the top of the ditch, Callan smiled. He couldn't keep his eyes fixed as the man brought his bow closer.

"Craven," he spat just before the arrow took him in the heart. His passing was swift.

---

He awoke some time later surrounded once more by white, but now it was bedsheets, not snow, that swaddled him as he lay. Confused panic flooded his mind, but was soon overtaken by laughter as his mind reconciled his death.

"Welcome back to the world of the living," a robed figure next to him said.

Callan looked over at him and smiled. The man was easily recognized as Ai'brone. The night in the castle had been but another round in the Magus Cup. On some level he realized he had known that the whole time, just had not recognized that he was in one of the many, perhaps infinite, arenas of the Citadel. However, if the Ai'brone could create entire fortresses of the dead, he doubted it would be more than a trifle for them to temporarily wipe away a competitor's memory. Now, he could remember clearly his walk to the Citadel, and passing through a charred oak door to the arena for his third match. He supposed he would not have truly been scared of the living corpses and skeletons if he had understood at the time that none of it was real.

"I suppose you have some questions?" the monk asked, mirroring Callan's smile.

The swordsman sat up. "No, I think I understand everything now. Sun grant you shade for healing my wounds," he replied, using a Fallien phrase without thinking. He usually tried to blend into Coronian culture as much as possible, trying to distance himself from his melancholy childhood. But lying in the snow he had wished only to see the desert expanse of his home country once more. He breathed deeply, treasuring the warmth of the air as it flooded his lungs. "Well, I guess I do have one question. If I died... does that mean I lost?" he asked.

"Not necessarily. In a true fight, with his broken leg your foe would have almost certainly perished in the blizzard we had planned to come soon after sunrise. We'll be releasing our decisions for the victors of this round soon. Feel free to rest longer if you wish. Your personal effects are in the chest at the foot of your bed, and the exit is that way" the monk said with a nod towards the oak chest followed by a hand gesture towards an archway behind him. "If you have any... irregularities in memory, please come find one of us."

"Will do. Thanks again," Callan said and hopped off the bed. Looking around, he saw at least fifty beds in the long room, many occupied by other Citadel fighters. Monks walked up and down the aisle, some talking to the combatants and others carrying fresh linens. As he walked to the end of his bed, he asked, "what about the quiet fellow I fought? Is he in here too?"

"No, we have a few different recovery rooms, and usually split challengers up after their fight. Some of you come out still lusting for battle," the monk said and turned to leave. Before departing however, he added, 'by the way, if you happen to see him again, the man you fought can't speak. Just thought you should know."

Callan nodded and retrieved his weaponry from the chest. He donned his boots and jerkin and fastened the sheaths of his sword and dagger to his belt, then headed for the exit. No purpose guided his feet other than to get outside and feel the sun's caress on his skin once more.

[Max Dirks]

Excellent job of incorporating a dynamic setting into the bout. You'll notice that by doing so, you added not only to your action scores, but to your persona scores as well. By having the undead attack, you forced your characters to forge a temporary alliance that added suspense and a new interaction dynamic to what could have been a boring battle.

Individual comments are below. As you are both new, I've offered up a few bits of advice on each category. No table this time, though. CN is Callan and BS is Black Shadow

Callan | Black Shadow

Story - 5 | 5 (This battle had a nice story to it, but I would have liked to see a bit more situational development in the introduction. BS: This is collaborative writing. Don't feel like you have to follow along with your opponent's story. Feel free to build your own within the dynamic environment)
Setting - 6 | 6 (See my comments above)
Pacing - 5 | 5 (Solid in terms of action & story. Your respective mechanical issues did slow down my read considerably).
Communication - 4 | 4
Action - 5 | 5 (See my comments above)
Persona - 5 | 6 (BS: Cool, cold and collected. After escaping the horde, Black Shadow immediately attacked Callan, which was incredibly true to character. Nice job!)
Mechanics - 5 | 4 (CN: You have occasional usage errors that are probably just spelling errors your word processor missed. Be sure to give your posts a once over before submitting them to minimize these errors in the future. BS: Your writing in the beginning was mechanically flawless, but beginning at about post 13, it was like a night and day switch. Mechanical errors can be costly in battles, so try to minimize them)
Technique - 4 | 4 (As you become better writers, I encourage you both to start experimenting with some advanced literary techniques. While I understand devices such as foreshadowing in a battle might be difficult, there are still plenty of ways you can improve your writing by essentially screwing with the writers mind. My favorite resource for literary technique is here)
Clarity - 5 | 4 (BS: Unfortunately those mechanical errors were glaring, and forced me to re-read several sentences. Also, some of your action & positioning were unclear near the end)
Wildcard - 5 | 3 (BS: Editing a previous post after your opponent has responded is not allowed. It appears on 2/18/14, you went through and edited all of your earlier posts. This is unacceptable without permission from the other player. Since you are new and the error was non-material to the decision, I've decided to minimize your score loss. Please be mindful of this in the future)

Total - 49 | 46

Callan advances to the Newcomer semi-finals!
Black Shadow is alive in Round 3 of the Redemption Bracket!

Callan earns 750 EXP and 88 GP.
Black Shadow earns 225 EXP and 74 GP.