Hunting Haidians

((Planned as a solo, but if you'd like to jump in PM me on Breaker.))

I followed the hooded figure through the darkness and swathes of mist that obscured the salty night. The city of Serenti loomed beneath ghoulish clouds, the alleys between her blockish buildings making up our path. The soft leather soles of my boots trod silently, even when they landed in puddles of what I told myself was water. You could never be certain, especially close to a stables. Or a tavern.

The demon paused outside one such tavern and turned, looking over his shoulder and spotting me. His hood fell, and I caught a glimpse of his jaggedly pointed ears and glowing red eyes.

“Shit in a basket.” I muttered.

He raced to the two-story tavern’s stone wall and climbed upwards effortlessly.

“Flaming shit in a basket.” I’d been hoping for a quick, clean kill, but I hadn’t brought my bow. I thought about throwing a fireball but didn’t want to attract the attention, or risk setting something ablaze. I thought about using the crystal sword strapped across my shoulders to summon the spirit of the dragon, Long. She could fly me up to the rooftop, but not as quickly as the demon climbed. That left only one option, the one I’d been meaning to avoid. Cronen always said I relied too much on my portals in live combat.

As the demon neared the top of the wall, I conjured a stone door from the cobbled road. The door’s twin appeared on the rooftop, directly above the demon. As he crested the wall I kicked my door hard and it flew open forcefully, as did its twin. The door on the rooftop struck the demon in the head, and he fell like a sack of sand, stunned into silence.

Whump. I looked about to see if anyone had heard. No one came out of the tavern, or the nearby residential buildings. Something stirred in a shadowy corner, but it looked like a mere rodent and scurried out of sight. I crouched at the demon’s side and grabbed his wrist to check his pulse. He folded inward like a sprung beartrap, claws and fangs gnashing for my throat. I ducked and weaved and twisted the wrist I had ahold of, forcing his face down into the cobblestone. I stomped on the back of his skull, five times it took before he stopped moving.

The Haidian lay still, green blood seeping slowly from his jagged ears. I knelt and pulled the enchanted quill from my inner pocket, stabbing the demon in the chest with its diamond tip. The air around him whispered as the essence of his power was absorbed. The body faded quickly, leaving only a small stain on the cobblestones.

I could feel my own abilities being bolstered by the influx of power. I had been using the quill long enough to unravel its complexities; each demon I absorbed with it increased my own potential. Sometimes I stole specific abilities, like the portalling I’d taken from the first Haidian I ever slew. Other times, like this occasion, I merely felt a little stronger. The demon I’d just killed had been young, for a Haidian, and of a low caste, but it could still have caused untold trouble in Serenti. Smiling grimly, I headed for the only place I could be certain to find ale at such an early hour of the morning.

I sat at the bar in the Hunter’s Retreat, sipping sudsy ale and staring at my reflection in the dingy mirror behind the shelves. Cronen would have told me to sit in a corner with my back against the wall, but I was too tired to worry about such things. My lone emerald eye stared back at me, studying the silk eyepatch I wore and the matching black scarf around my neck. My dirty blond hair had grown longer than I usually allowed it, and held a greasy sheen. My green sifan clothing and plain hide cloak hung slackly, showing several days worth of wear. I had not changed or bathed since I picked up the dead demon’s trail three days prior. I’d caught the odd wink of sleep here or there, but otherwise I’d spent the entire time hunting. The ale brought a pleasant, sleepy buzz to my body and brain. I could scarcely wait to lay down in one of the underground tavern’s rooms for hire and drift away…

My head folded forward, but I remained sitting upright as I fell into a semi doze. Memories flickered and faded into substance as they so often did in the space between sleep and wakefulness. The deep scars on my left arm itched as I saw Amari, my former friend who had inflicted them. Rage blazed in my gut as I thought of her master, the assassin Lichensith Ulroke. I had traded my left eye to learn Ulroke’s location, but when I arrived the Salvic stronghold had been empty. A fruitless hunt, and a waste of a perfectly good eye. It had taken me weeks to re-learn how to sight along an arrow, and to judge distance with a sword.

My lone eye opened as I lifted my head and drained the last of my ale. When the barkeep came over to claim my tankard I shoved some gold across the counter and got a large brass key in return. It had the number eight engraved in the end, signifying the room it unlocked. I nodded my thanks and pushed to my feet and turned. My weaving path through the bar likely looked drunken, but in reality it was the fatigue eating at my bones. As I navigated around a full table one of the patrons stood and blocked my path with a burly arm.

“Jus’ a minute there,” The big red-bearded man said, “who in the blazes are you? I know every hunter and slayer in Serenti, and I ain’t never seen you before.”

“I’ve been here before,” I replied, my green eye flickering from the man’s arm to his face. Fatigue forgotten, my mind rehearsed a half dozen ways of disabling the giant ginger. “I’m more of a nomadic hunter, though.”

“Well we don’t take too kindly to strangers,” the big man said, narrowing his eyes, “safer if everyone knows everyone, innit?”

I took a deep breath and rolled my shoulders, and then glared directly into his drink-misted eyes.

“Do I look like someone you need fear?” I asked levelly. The man took a long moment to consider my eye patch and sword. I sighed. “Tell you what. I’ll pay for your next round of drinks.” Before he could react I reached into my pocket and plunked a heavy crown on the table. “That way we’re all friends, right?”

The redbeard exchanged a long glance with his friends and then burst out laughing.

“Sounds fair enough to me, youngling!” He sent me on my way with a stinging slap on the back. I staggered down the hallway at the back of the common room, found door number eight, and locked myself inside. I lay down on the straw pallet with my boots still on, alone with my thoughts, memories, and misery.

I woke maybe six hours later to mid morning sun streaming through the small window. I re-adjusted the patch over my left eye and ran a hand through my greasy hair and then sat up, scratching the scraggly stubble on my chin. My stomach rumbled, crying out for food, but I decided to change first. My clothes felt grimy, and so I stood and opened a portal to my room at the Last Night’s Maiden in Underwood. I didn’t exactly live there, but I kept a few things in the wardrobe. And on the bed. And on the floor. It was a bit of a mess, but I found a fresh change of clothes and a mostly clean cloak. Leaving my used garments in a growing pile, I donned the fresh(er) ones and stepped back through the portal to Serenti.

The sifan clothing I’d chosen this time was dark brown, the heavy woolen cloak a deep green. I tended to stick with the same earth tones over and over. A girl had told me once they suited me, not just a girl, but a seamstress. I assumed she knew what she was talking about and had followed the advice ever since. I slung my crystal sword over my shoulders and strode out into the common room, cutting a path between tables directly to the bar and returning key number eight. I licked my lips and sniffed the air, picking through the salty and savory smells and deciding what to order.

“Eh Boy! Why don’t you break your fast with us? We’re all friends, right?” The giant ginger’s voice floated over the ruckus of the room, using my words from the night before. He and his four friends sat at the same table with one empty chair remaining. I shrugged and held up one finger to say wait one minute, and then turned to the barkeep, a rotund middle aged woman this morning.

“Three eggs, over easy, bacon, home fries, and toast with butter.” I ordered. Why be choosy on breakfast foods when you could have it all?

“Anything to drink?” The woman pushed a greying brown lock of hair behind her ear and left off wiping the countertop. Her expression seemed to challenge whether a half elf of my slight and short stature could consume such a meal. She would be surprised.

“Strong tea, I’ll take that as soon as it’s ready.” Jake tipped the server with a silver and paced through the hubbub of the room as his order was relayed to the kitchen.

“Have a bloody seat!” The redheaded man said enthusiastically, kicking the vacant chair out for me. I swirled my cloak back and sat swiftly, hands on my knees, turning my head so I could scan the entire table.

Directly to my right sat the ginger giant. He had scars on his big ruddy face and scars on his big ruddy hands, and a skinning knife sheathed on a sash across his chest. To his right sat two Salvic men who had to be brothers. Each wore a brooding frown and a belted dirk. No doubt their longswords were on the rack by the door. Beside them sat two women who could not have possibly been related. One was Fallieni, dark-skinned, her movement as fluid as her eyes and hair. The other appeared half-elven like me, but of Raiaeran descent, her pointed ears and high cheekbones a clear giveaway. Not to mention her enrapturing beauty. The Fallieni woman was exotic, and yet she seemed somehow plain next to the Raiaeran. All five of them wore a combination of leathers, linens, and heavy woolens.

“My name is Marvin,” the ginger said gruffly, placing a meaty palm on his chest. He went down the line, pointing at each of his compatriots in turn. “This is Dirk, Flint, Selima, and Aeranessa. Nessa for short.” The big man grinned and stabbed a fried potato on his plate, and then gestured with the utensil at me. “And you are the incomparable Jake Narmolanya.”

My tea arrived in the hands of a pretty young waitress, and I took the distraction as a moment to process what had happened. They knew my name, which might imply a dozen things, or might mean almost nothing at all. I took a sip of the brew although it was steaming hot and smiled through scalding lips.

“Incomparable?” I said at last, giving the table another sweep with my lone eye. “I’ve been called many things, but never that.” The Salvic brothers both looked somewhat disgruntled but semi-interested. The women wore mysterious smiles and passed the occasional whisper back and forth behind fine hands. They all seemed content to let the ginger do the talking. He was their leader, not just a loudmouth.

“Well, don’t let it go to your head.” He advised with a grin. “When I stopped you last night, I had no idea who you were - mind you, I was blind drunk, so that’s hardly your fault. But between the others and the rest of the patrons of this fine establishment, we managed to piece together a few stories. About the one eyed half elf who’s hunted as many Haidians as he’s had warm dinners. About the crazy bastard who traded half his sight for a chance to kill a shadow. About the fearless warrior who for some reason, has coward engraved on his arm. You’re more than a little interesting, Jacob.”

“Don’t call me that,” I said reflexively, “everyone calls me Jake.” I gripped my scarred left forearm through my sifan sleeve. “It’s nice to meet you all, I suppose. Is there any particular reason I’m sharing my morning meal with you?”

My food arrived just then, and as it was being served the Fallieni Selima whispered to the half-elf woman, who giggled briefly before stifling the sound and shooting me a quick look. I raised an eyebrow. Did she think me fully blind?

“We’ve been staying here the past several nights, taking offers and considering different jobs.” Marvin explained as I dug into the eggs and potatoes. Rich yellow yolk spilled across the golden fried russets. “To make a tall tale short, we narrowed it down to three possibilities.”

“Only, one of them isn’t possible.” Selima cut in. I looked more closely at the Fallieni woman, past her dark braided hair, and realized she wore nothing except an oversized linen T-shirt. I swallowed a lump in my throat and replaced it with a mouthful of eggs.

“What do you mean?” I asked as I finished chewing, wiping my mouth on my sleeve. “Why consider it if it’s not possible?”

“Well it’s not quite possible,” Marvin said, seeming glad to pull the focus of the group back to him. “At least, not for us. Not alone.”

I raised both my eyebrows this time, a gesture which scrunched my eyepatch uncomfortably. I looked at each of the five hunters in turn and then sipped my tea.

“We can’t do it without you,” Selima said at last, leaning forward so the collar of the shirt dipped and her cleavage displayed generously. “We need a traveler.”

“Almost every story we heard about you told of your way with portals,” Marvin said. I had dug back into my breakfast, sawing off a chunk of bacon. “And it’s a demon we’re talking about here. Your specialty. I’m more of a vampire slayer myself, and that’s what me and the gang usually focus on… but the money on this one is just too good to walk away from.”

“How much?” I asked casually, taking a bite of buttered toast.

“The bounty on this one is a nice round ten grand, plus any plunder taken from the demon. Your share would be fifteen hundred gold pieces. Plus any knick knacks the bastard has that might catch your eye.”

I pursed my lips and blew a long, low whistle. I’d never heard of someone putting ten thousand gold pieces on a Haidian’s head. I wiped my mouth with a sifan sleeve and fixed Marvin with my emerald gaze.

“Does this demon have a name? It must be one I’ve heard of, to be worth so much.”

“Aye,” the ginger nodded, “you’ve likely heard of him. He goes by the name Arkboss the Hunted. There’s been a bounty on his head nearly ten years, and in that time he’s killed more slayers than you see sitting in this tavern.” Marvin looked around and then leaned forward and lowered his voice. “He’s said to be the most dangerous individual to come out of Haidia since the general Zieg ag’ Tulfried. But we got some inside information on him that should make killing him… well, possible.”

I gritted my teeth in a forced smile and drew a long breath through them.

“What do you need me for?”

“Amongst his other… talents… Arkboss is a teleporter.” The ginger explained. He sponged his plate with a piece of toast and bit into it forcefully. “We’ll need your help just to keep up with him.”

My smile softened as it became more genuine.

“And what do I need you for?”

Both Salvic brothers started talking at once, from the jumbled sound each told a similar but separate tale of Arkboss terrorizing villages in Salvar. The Raiaeran half elf opened her mouth but politely refused to talk over the others. The Fallieni shook her dark head and tutted one word.

“Fool.”

Marvin waved his hands until they quieted and then shook his head, short curly hair bouncing.

“You must not be up to date on Althanas’ most wanted demons. Arkboss is top of the list, and with good reason. He’s killed hundreds of people with horrific powers. He commands fire of a half dozen different types, is a master swordsman, and carries two Alerian six shooters. Oh, and did I mention he can teleport?”

“You did,” I said with a courteous nod.

“Right. And that’s just what we know about him. He could have other powers hidden from public knowledge. We figure with six of us, we should be safe.”

I chewed and swallowed the last of my potatoes and mopped my plate with a crust.

“Alright, I’m in on one condition.” I said as I popped the last bite in my mouth.

“Name it,” Marvin said confidently. I made them wait as I finished my meal and pushed back my chair.

“Before we start, you all have to show me what you’re made of.”

“What was it like training under Joshua Cronen?” Selima asked as we made our way northward through the streets of Serenti. People and horses bustled on all sides and hawkers sold roasted meats and other goods, but the fresh smell of the sea whipped in on the breeze.

“You know of Breaker?” I asked in surprise. I knew that Cronen had visited Fallien, and I knew he’d made a considerable impact, but it still seemed like a fair coincidence that this one woman from the desert nation would have heard of him.

“We were here in Serenti when Cronen slew the Thayne Draconus.” Marvin the giant ginger interrupted, pacing up between us. A delyn flanged mace hung at his hip, dark glassy wings flashing in the sunlight.

“Breaker didn’t kill Draconus,” I lied, repeating the story I’d been told. “Shinsou Vaan Osiris did.”

“That’s what most people think,” Selima said with a wink. “But I was in the southern watchtower when Joshua Cronen rose above the great dragon and struck him down. We know the truth of these things.” A knowing nod passed between the five slayers. “So, what was it like training with him?” Selima pressed.

“Hard and painful,” I said with a rueful grin, instinctively reaching over my shoulder to touch the hilt of my crystal sword. “And always unpredictable. Once he made me practice sheathing and unsheathing my sword all day in different ways. For weeks he had me running up and crawling down a mountain every morning. And no matter how hard we sparred, the bastard never even broke a sweat.”

“Sounds like you might have a thing or two to teach us!” Marvin exclaimed with a wink, again cutting me off from Selima. As the six of us left city limits and ventured into the thin forest, the giant ginger stopped and pointed to a clearing. “How about there?”

“Looks perfect,” I said, striding into the meadow and sliding my sword from its sheathe. I let the weapon hang in a limp arm as I rolled my shoulders, loosening up. “I’ll take the brothers first.”

Dirk and Flint both snorted in disdain and unsheathed their longswords and dirks, coming at me together without hesitation.

“Hold there!” Marvin cried, and the brothers stopped. For a moment, I thought the giant ginger was going to lecture us on the dangers of sparring with live weaponry. “Take him from both sides at the same time,” he advised his compatriots, “that way he’ll be hemmed in by blades.

“Oh no,” I lamented, laying my sword along my shoulder. I winked at Selima. “What am I to do?!” I lunged at Dirk suddenly, swinging my sword in a horizontal arc at his neck.

Caught by surprise, the compact man brought his dirk up to fend off the blow and prepared a riposte with his longsword.

I changed the path of my crystal blade at the last moment, swinging it downward and slapping Dirk’s calf with the flat of the blade. He howled in pain and fell awkwardly, the muscles of his lower leg paralyzed by the blow.

Flint came swooping to his brother’s aid like a scavenging gull. As he brought his weapons to bear I pushed off the ground with my sword and spun and kicked him in the sternum with the sole of my boot. He sat down hard, gasping for air.

I laid my blade back across my shoulder and took a box step as if dancing.

“Ladies first,” I chastised as I saw Marvin reach for his mace. Aeranessa shook her long hair back and tied it in a ponytail. Selima slunk forward and cartwheeled across the open space, swiftly putting me in between them. Thankfully she had put on some loose fitting pants. “Slick,” I complimented her. “Don’t you have any weapons?”

In answer, the Fallieni threw herself into the air and performed a triple barrel roll.

“We won’t need weapons to drub you,” Nessa said. She undid the sword belt holding her elven daggers and dropped it on the ground. “We’re going to mess up that cute face of yours.” She stuck her tongue out at Selima.

“Alright,” I chuckled, and flipped my sword aside so it stuck point-first in the ground. “Hand to hand from here on out.”

Nessa came at me fast and hard while Selima cartwheeled menacingly close. The half elf threw a double jab and then a hard straight right, showing considerable pugilistic acumen. If I hadn’t been on my toes, she probably would have broken my nose. I dipped and dodged and then performed a back walkover alongside Selima as she tried to cartwheel-kick me in the head. My head wasn’t there, of course. She continued the motion in a backflip and I took the opportunity to turn and lunge straight into her.

We crashed to the ground together, my right hand using the collar of her loose shirt to choke her. Nessa came at me from behind, but I anticipated the rush and flipped her over my shoulder so I had them both pinned. I adjusted, and managed to lock the half elf’s elbow in the crook of mine, applying a painful hold. They squirmed and fought like caged squirrels, but the could not shake me loose.

“Enough,” Marvin called, “enough of this nonsense.” The giant ginger plucked the mace from its loop on his belt. “You want a real challenge? Pick up your sword!”

I released the women and rolled to my feet, stalking to my sword as casually as a tiger approaching a watering hole. Nessa and Selima stood, both looking away in embarrassment. It was probably a long time since either had been so swiftly bested. The Salvic brothers were not much better off; they stood with their heads together, muttering and seeming to go over what had just happened. I plucked my sword from where it grew from the ground and assumed a low guard, circling away from Marvin.

The big man tossed his mace from hand to hand a few times, kicking his feet to loosen his legs. He cracked his neck one way, then the other, and snarled. I stifled a chuckle. So he was one of those men who needed to be angry to fight. I could help him with that.

“Come on, you great burgundy bastard.” I taunted. I swung my sword behind my back and held it there with both hands, presenting a clear target for attack.

Marvin let out a roar and exploded forward, moving with surprising speed for such a big man. Not even bothering to wind up, he ran straight at me and unleashed a backhand swing that could have felled a sapling.

I bent my knees and shifted my torso, leaning back and letting the flanged mace pass within an inch of my face. The backdraft tousled my greasy hair. As Marvin prepared for a second swing, I pivoted so the point of my sword, still held behind my back, pressed against his midriff. A clear and decisive victory after only one blow.

The ginger giant froze, staring down at the crystal sword that had nearly impaled him. The hand holding his mace shook with what appeared to be rage, and I prepared myself to fend off another attack.

Instead, the big man burst out laughing.

“Marv, are you alright?” Nessa asked after full minute of his exuberant mirth.

“I’m fine,” the giant chuckled once he regained control of his breath. “I suppose we should have known better than to challenge Joshua Cronen’s prized pupil on his own terms. We’d best count ourselves lucky you’re a good egg, Jake Narmolanya.”

“You’d best hope that this Arkboss isn’t as good a fighter as me,” I said critically. “Otherwise, most of you will probably die.”

That ended Marvin’s mirth quickly. He slipped his mace back through its belt loop and nodded at his compatriots in turn.

“That’s why we have inside information, and a plan. It all hinges on your portalling ability, so I hope you’re well rested. And don’t think so little of us. You may have surprised us with your nifty Breaker-tricks, but we’re a fighting unit unlike any you’ve ever seen. Just last week, we took out a whole hive of vamps. Must have slain at least two score of them between us.”

“Alright, you’ve convinced me,” I said, sheathing my sword fluidly and holding up both palms. “You all seem very well trained. I just hope this demon we’re after is equally impressed.”

“Aye,” Marvin nodded and clapped me on the shoulder hard enough to rattle my teeth. “Let’s hope so.”

“Well?” I looked around at the group of slayers and splayed my hands. “Consider me part of the team. Where are we off to?”

We made a quick trip back to the Hunter’s Retreat so the others could gather the rest of their gear. I only needed the sword on my back. Marvin and the brothers suited up in studded leather armor, Aeranessa brought a tall recurve bow and a quiver of arrows, and Selima equipped herself with a sash full of throwing knives and a long spear. We gathered in the alley behind the inn and formed into a loose huddle.

“Arkboss is clever, for a Haidian,” Marvin said as he pulled a folded cloth map from inside his vest. “He rarely visits the same place twice in a row, so despite his atrocities the outcry is minimal. But we’ve managed to learn the location of his home base.” He spread the map on a massive palm and indicated a specific region. “Here, in the Tular Plains. Not so surprising, I suppose, but it’s hidden by a spell. However,” he nodded at Nessa, “we have the counterspell needed. Now, how close to here can you get us?”

“Pretty close, actually.” I said, my eyepatch scrunching as I raised both eyebrows. I’d visited most of the known world of Althanas, but they were still lucky that I’d been to the Tular Plains before. Luckier still that I’d visited an area a few hours’ walk from the mountainous spot Marvin indicated. “What if he just teleports away?” I pointed out, “I can’t follow him unless I know exactly where he’s going.”

“That’s me again,” Nessa said, finally finding her voice. “I can read arcane residues. I’ll be able to see where he’s gone, and describe it to you. Will that suffice?”

“It will,” I nodded, and then brushed the shaggy blond hair out of my eyes. “What else can you tell me about this demon?”

“His command of fire is his most dangerous quality,” Selima said quietly. “According to witnesses, the flames he uses are different shapes, different colors, and have different properties. He can teleport within a room very fast, has two Alerian revolvers, and it’s rumored he once bested ‘ag Tulfried with a blade. He’s as ancient as some of the greatest dragons on Althanas, and cleverer than you or me.”

“You must not know me very well,” I winked, “so you’re the brains, Marvin is the muscle, and Nessa handles the spellwork. Nice team. What are the brothers dim for?”

Dirk and Flint both reached for my throat, four hands grasping to strangle me. I swayed backward, and then Marvin was between us.

“Steady there boys, he’s just testing you.” The ginger giant assured them. “The brothers can arm and armor themselves with powerful ice. Should be useful against a fire-demon, doncha’ think?”

“Alright.” I clutched the silk scarf around my neck and wiped my face with it. “This sounds like it could work.” I looked at Marvin. My head was at the same height as the heavy-bladed skinning knife sheathed on his chest. Most people probably wouldn’t believe that, an hour earlier, I’d bested him with both hands behind my back. Strangely, that didn’t bother me at all.

“Of course it’ll work,” the big man chuckled, “you haven’t even heard the plan yet!”

The brick back wall of the Hunter’s Retreat morphed and molded into a round portal. Through the hole in reality a harsh, hot wind blew. The sun on the other side of the portal seemed a different color, giving everything beyond a reddish tinge. I could see sand-blasted rocks leading up the sloping side of a mountain, pockmarked by small stunted trees whose gnarled roots sank deep into the infertile soil, searching for water.

“It looks clear,” I told the other slayers. Before any of them could speak, I drew my sword and ducked through.

The sun felt unfiltered by the sparse clouds, threatening to burn my tanned skin. The wind whipped up enough grit that I pulled my silk scarf over my nose. I recalled my last trip to Haidia as the land’s pervasive sulfuric odor filled my nose and throat. It was not a place I wanted to stay any longer than I had to.

The rest of the team came through the portal single file. Marvin, with one hand on the large skinning knife on his sash. Dirk and then Flint, both wielding their longswords and looking ready to fight at a moment’s notice. Selima flowed through next, her dark eyes flicking in every direction like a hunting leopard. And then Aeranessa arrived, blonde ponytail concealed within a cloth hood and bow held at the ready. They moved swiftly and silently. Not a bad crew at all.

“On me,” Marvin whispered, and ascended the sloping jumble of shattered rock that made up the side of the mountain. It rose at an angle, but not so sharply that we would actually have to climb. “We’ve got a bit of a hike ahead of us.” The giant ginger advised, “talk amongst yourselves. There’s no one to hear us here.”

As my boots crackled over the shattered stone, I fell into step beside Selima in the middle of the pack. The Fallieni woman moved with the grace of a dancer even when hiking up a mountainside. I couldn’t keep my lone green eye from caressing her loose locks of raven hair and her smooth tanned skin. She noticed me looking and looked right back.

“How did you lose your eye?” She challenged. “Your enemy must have been swift and cunning, to wound a fighter such as you.”

I felt heat rise in my cheeks at the compliment. Unfortunately, the reality was much less flattering.

“I didn’t lose it in a fight,” I explained, deciding which details to share and which to keep hidden. “I suppose you could say I… traded it for information. Bad information, as it turned out.” I gripped my left forearm through my sifan sleeve as a slew of painful memories resurfaced. “How did a Fallieni come to be living in Corone, and speaking Tradespeak so fluently?” I asked, changing the subject.

“I was brought to your island nation as a slave-orphan at the age of twelve.” She explained as she navigated her way up a ridge line. Her voice wavered, but her feet never missed a beat. “Mostly I served as an acrobat in a menagerie that traveled between Serenti and Gisela. It wasn’t a good life, but it was the only life I knew for a long time. Marv found me, and saw something in me. He paid for my freedom and taught me the ways of the hunter.”

“That was kind of him,” I said, looking at the curly back of the giant ginger’s head. “So he’s not all muscle and bluster?”

“Ha, no.” Selima said, dropping her voice and leaning so close I felt her breath on my neck. “Deep down, he’s as soft as they come.”

“Tell me more about Joshua Cronen,” Selima insisted as we traversed the bare mountain ridge. “Where did he receive his martial arts training?”

“Here and there,” I said, treading carefully on the uneven terrain. “Actually, I don’t really know. I mean, he trained in Salvar, in Akashima, Scara Brae, and all over Corone, but he was already one of the best when he started all that. Watching him fight is like watching a shark feed. There’s no hesitation, no second guesses, just perfect destruction. He’s unlike anyone else I’ve ever trained with.”

“Sounds fun,” she said, moving up beside me. “After we collect this bounty, you should show me a few moves.” She bumped her hip against mine, eyes flickering suggestively.

“Yeah?” I swallowed and took a deep breath. I’d often been tongue tied around beautiful women when I was younger, but I’d grown out of that. I hoped. “I think I’d enjoy that,” I managed to say lamely.

“Oh, I’d ensure that you would,” Selima said, adding a quiver to her hips as she walked. “I’m an expert on enjoyment.”

“Really?” I grinned, warming to the conversation. “You just get more and more interesting. What was it like growing up in Fallien, before… before you were brought to Corone?”

“Fallien is very different,” the woman said wistfully, her gaze going someplace far away. “Almost every waking moment is about survival. By day, the sun can kill you. By night, the cold can freeze you. There are many predators that roam the endless sands. And yet… the people there are strong, and kind, and they live on despite all these things.”

“Do you miss it?” I asked. “I love traveling, but I’d get homesick if I didn’t return to Corone, and to Concordia, every so often.”

“I should like to visit my homeland someday,” Selima nodded, her black braid blowing in the wind, “but it is difficult to find occasion. The journey is long and expensive, and we are a busy group of hunters.”

“Not if you went with me,” I said with a wink, “anywhere in the world is just a step away, when you travel with Jake Narmolanya.”

“There is truth in that,” Selima said with a giggle, “and yet, I have been warned about men who refer to themselves in the third person.”

Before I could inquire about such a warning, Marvin stopped at the head of the group, holding up a fist. We all froze, hands landing on our weapons, eyes scouring the area. A long moment passed as dust whipped between us. Marvin looked at Aeranessa, who nodded.

“We’re here,” the ginger giant grinned.

We’d arrived at a sheer cliff face, smooth sun-stained rock that rose vertically for twenty yards or more. We stood on a plateau of sorts in front of the cliff. I looked about, trying to see where exactly “here” was. The area seemed completely unremarkable.

“Well, I did tell you it was hidden,” Marvin guffawed, noticing my confusion. “Just give it a moment…” he looked about. “Nessa? I think we’re clear. Go ahead and do your thing.”

The half elf took a deep breath and straightened her spine. She opened her mouth, and out poured the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard.

It was like no other music I had ever experienced. She barely seemed to sing, it was more like her body vibrated the sound and it echoed out her mouth. She closed her eyes, appearing to settle into a blissful reverie as the song flowed from within her. I could feel the elven song magic touching me, and touching everything around me. Its subtle influence did its work over the course of several minutes, and then a portion of the cliff face shimmered and vanished.

Where once solid rock had stood, a cavern yawned at the six of us. It tunneled deep into the mountain, the path twisting out of sight. It was lit by strange luminous quartz inset at regular intervals in the walls. There was no smell of dust or decay as I stepped up to the opening. Clearly, Arkboss came here regularly.

“Careful there,” Marvin advised as I neared the entrance, “there may be traps. Best to let Nessa and Selima go first.”

“I know a thing or two about demonic lairs,” I retorted, but I stood aside to let the women pass. They moved into the cavern tentatively, running their fingers along the walls and floors as they searched for runes and triggers. The glowing quartz made their shadows split and dance as they progressed deeper into the tunnel.

“Dirk, Flint, guard the entrance.” Marvin said, drawing his mace. “Jake, you’re with me. We’ll watch the womens’ backs.” As the Salvic brothers took up positions outside, the giant ginger and I progressed slowly into the cavern. It twisted downward like a spiral staircase, and the air grew cooler and dryer with every step.

“This might be a good time to tell me the plan,” I said in a hushed tone as my boots grated over the rough stone.

“I suppose you’re right!” Marvin laughed, tossing his mace from hand to hand. He seemed completely unconcerned that the demon might be home. “It’s quite simple really. The best plans are. We’ll invade the innermost sections of his lair, where he’d feel safest, and lay a trap. Hopefully Dirk and Flint will be able to hem him in with their ice magic while you, I, and Selima provide support. That’ll leave Nessa free to shower him with arrows. If he teleports away, we’ll use yours and Nessa’s talents to follow and take him down. What do you think?”

I thought the plan was about as solid as a ghost, but then again, even the best plans didn’t normally last past the first blow in a fight. In any case, it seemed this group of hunters were more habituated to using extreme force rather than cunning strategy.

“We found one,” Nessa’s beautiful voice wafted up from below, some ten steps ahead of us. She crouched in front of a large rune inset in the floor. With the rough patterns existing in the natural rock, it would have been easy for one’s eyes to slide right past the symbol. If not for the half elf’s acute perception, the trap might have ensnared us all.

“Can you tell what it does?” I asked, leaning sideways to peer at the rune.

“I can sense some residual fire magic here,” Nessa said over her shoulder, “but I don’t know for sure what that means. Sel, will you take a look?”

The Fallieni woman crouched beside her compatriot, pushing her long braid behind her shoulders.

“It’s a Haidian sigil of some sort, certainly.” The tanned warrior said. “I recognize elements of it… and you’re right, it definitely has something to do with fire. This marking here means “flame” in ancient demonic.”

“So it’s a fire trap,” Marvin reasoned. “Can we disable it? If not I say we get Dirk and Flint to cover me in ice, and I’ll walk right into the damn thing.”

“I wouldn’t recommend that,” Selima said, twisting around and arching an eyebrow. “We must have nearly reached the main lair by now, and this is the only trap we’ve found. If Arkboss uses only one rune-trap to guard his home, you can be certain it’s especially deadly.”

“I’m not even convinced it is a fire trap,” Nessa added, standing and dusting her palms. “For all we know, triggering it might bring the mountain down around us.”

“But you said it has something to do with fire, right?” I reasoned. “And this Arkboss is a fire wielding demon…”

“What are you thinking?” Selima asked, standing up beside the half elf.

“Something risky,” I said. “Everybody else should go back outside. That way, if this doesn’t work, I’ll be the only one to take an injury.”

“Jake, are you sure-” Selima started to ask.

“Sure he’s sure!” Marvin interrupted. “Come on ladies, let’s give our Haidian hunting specialist some space. I could use a breath of fresh air anyways.” They moved back up the tunnel, Selima giving my shoulder a familiar squeeze as she passed.

“Don’t be a fool,” she instructed me in a near-whisper.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I grinned back.

I waited until the sounds of their footfalls faded up the tunnel, and then counted out two full minutes. Certain that they would have reached safety, I snapped my fingers and conjured a ball of fire. If Arkboss commanded flames the way they said, what easier way could there be to disable his trap each time he returned? Drawing back my hand, I threw the ball of shimmering heat directly at the rune.

Realizing I had winced and protected my testicles in anticipation of an explosion, I found myself pleasantly surprised. The rune drank the flame. It was as though I’d thrown a ball of water at a pile of dry sand. As the flames vanished there was a puff of smoke, and a long grinding sound from further down the tunnel.

My curiosity got the better of me, and I ventured around the final bend. It seemed my idea had worked. I did not spring any traps, and a heavy stone door stood open at the end of the tunnel. A part of me wanted to dart inside, to be the first to discover what treasures lay within. But I knew there might be more traps, or for that matter, a demon lying in wait. So I turned and ran back up the tunnel.

“Marv!” I called as I circled my way toward the surface. “Selima! I did it!” I stopped shouting as I heard something storming above. The crackle of arcane energies and the shrieks of the freshly wounded. Uttering a curse, I tore my crystal sword from its scabbard and doubled my pace. Arkboss the Hunted had arrived.

I raced out of the cavern to a scene of carnage and chaos. Aeranessa lay near the mouth of the tunnel, her blonde hair smoldering, her neck badly burned. Dirk, Flint, Selima and Marvin were spread across the plateau, surrounding one of the largest demons I’d ever seen.

Arkboss stood easily two hands taller than a tall man, and had broad shoulders and thickly muscled limbs. His skin, a mottled green and brown mixture of hide and scales, glowed with a red arcane energy that matched his wide, glaring eyes. His jagged ears quivered as he turned about, watching in every direction at once. His aura pulsated and grew almost overwhelmingly bright.

“Watch out,” gasped Nessa from where she lay by the cave.

“Get down!” I shouted, and tackled Marvin, the closest person to me.

Arkboss’ arms extended and two fiery lances jetted forth. They swept sideways as he turned, one passing overtop of Marv and me and carving a slice out of the stone wall. Selima dodged nimbly under the other, and the Salvic brothers conjured shields of ice on their forearms as it approached them. The shields sizzled and began a slow melt, but protected the compact men, who advanced toward the demon with swords at the ready.

The fire lance vanished, and Arkboss’ aura shifted from red to black, forming flames of shadow that leaped from his shoulders. I flinched away from the heat as I stood up, as did Marv, covering his ruddy face. Dirk and Flint ducked behind their shields, but those shields melted rapidly in face of the extreme temperatures. The black flame aura forged itself into a greatsword which the demon grasped in both hands and swung.

Thwish!

There was a sickening sizzle as Dirk’s head left his body. Flint bellowed and threw himself forward, but the simple steel of his sword glanced off the demon’s scales, and his closeness to that black shimmering aura caused blistering burns to form on his hands and face. Screaming as his flesh boiled, Flint staggered away from the cackling demon.

Marvin caught the Salvic man before he could stagger blindly off the plateau and pushed him to the ground next to Nessa. From her angle across the mountaintop, Selima let her throwing knives fly. Arkboss’ aura changed again, becoming purple this time, and flaming tentacles knocked the knives out of the air effortlessly. It provided a distraction, though.

I gripped the crystal sword in both hands and focused as best I could despite the chaos.

“Long,” I whispered, “join me now. I need you!”

The spirit of the dragon appeared at my side, a translucent green apparition with wings and horns. Following my will, she floated down between Nessa and Flint, one wing resting on each of them. Their wounds healed slowly as Long’s power flowed into them.

“I’ve got them,” I hissed at Marv, staring across the plateau, “help Selima!” The Fallieni woman had run out of knives, and faced the tall demon single handed, her spear thrusting at his chest and face repeatedly. Arkboss seemed to be toying with her, using his tentacles of purple fire to parry each attack. The ginger giant let out a roar and raced to her aid. Between them they battled the demon, their feet splashing in the blood that had spilled from Dirk’s corpse.

Marv gave a guttural growl with each swing of his mace, but his weapon was battered aside by the demon’s fiery tentacles. Opposite her leader, Selima worked her spear with swift determination, but worry shone in her dark eyes. The air crackled from the strikes of those purple flame whips, and blistering gashes appeared on Marv’s back where blows landed. Selima still proved elusive enough to avoid injury.

“Fools,” Arkboss laughed, his voice surprisingly smooth, “you thought a mere ambush could best me?”

I wanted to help them, but I needed to stay with Flint and Nessa until Long finished healing their wounds. The shimmering dragon pulsated and then released a wave of healing energy. I felt my stamina rejuvenated, and knew all of my allies would feel the same effect. Flint lifted his longsword, suddenly able to see, and rushed to rejoin the fight. Nessa was slower to recover; the wound on her neck had been severe.

A portal opened in the air right next to me, its twin directly behind Arkboss. I hopped through and swung for his neck, a blow which would have cleaved the head from any man’s shoulders.

The demon was no man. The purple aura seemed to offer it some protection, and its flesh was still as strong as any save that of an ancient dragon. My crystal sword was as sharp as mythril, and yet it only opened a small wound where it should have beheaded the being. I must have opened a vein though, for green blood spurted forth, soaking the front of my sifan jacket. I growled and poured my arcane potential into my sword, making it stronger, as sharp as adamantine. I stabbed for the demon’s core, but one of his purple tentacles parried me with embarrassing ease. Marv, Selima, Flint and I stood in a rough square around Arkboss, fighting for our lives, and we could barely land a blow.

Suddenly a feathered arrow protruded from Arkboss’ neck. He turned, and the next shaft struck his shoulder, its mythril bodkin head puncturing aura and natural armor. Nessa was on her knees, bow held horizontally, firing as swiftly as she could. I reared back for another try at the demon’s neck, realizing we were about to win.

Arkboss’ aura changed to green in the blink of an eye. He gave one last laugh and tossed two pulsating emerald fireballs. One arced toward Nessa. The other rose straight above him, but when it fell he was no longer there.

I realized the bastard had teleported and opened a portal to a mountain ridge some hundred yards away. It appeared as a hole in the air behind Selima. I dove and pushed her through, rolling after her as the portal vanished behind me.

The green fireballs struck.

BOOM!

The fireballs exploded in rough unison, creating a spray of fragmented stone. I threw myself on top of Selima and shielded my eye against the wave of dust that reached us a moment later. When I brought my hand down, there were only black scorch marks where Marvin and Flint had stood. The mouth of the tunnel had caved in, burying Nessa if the blast had not killed her.

A long moment passed, in which the explosion echoed along the mountain range.

“Get off me,” Selima growled, punching me in the ribs as she scrambled to her feet. “I could have helped them…” she trailed of as she saw the wreckage left by the demon’s green fire.

Arkboss appeared back in the same spot I’d last seen him, looking around at his handiwork with a satisfied smirk. The gash I’d opened on his neck appeared to be healing already, the flow of green blood having already ceased.

Selima let out a scream, something that might have been Fallieni words, or just a release of energy. She raised her spear and sprinted across the mountaintop toward the demon.

“No!” I shouted, and opened a hole in the air to catch up to her. “Selima,” I panted as I came up behind her, almost close enough to grab her. “You can’t beat him. Let’s pull back and-”

Arkboss saw the two of us grouped together and his grin widened. He drew his Alerian six shooters from holsters on his hips and fired a rapid succession of shots in our direction. Some of them went high and wide at such a range. The rest struck Selima in the chest. She was standing right in front of me. I caught her as she fell, lowering her gently to the ground, my sword hanging loose in one hand.

“Long!” I shouted to the dragon spirit that lived within the crystal blade. “Breathe!”

The dragon’s shimmering emerald head appeared above mine, and she exhaled a shower of wooden spikes in Arkboss’ direction. The demon holstered his guns and activated his black aura, the extreme temperature burning up the spikes before they could reach him. But at least it bought me a moment.

“Hold on,” I said, preparing to lift Selima back up, “I’m getting you out of here.”

“Jake,” she smiled as I lifted her head. “Don’t let the bastard go unpunished.” And then she died in my arms. I released her and stood up in time to see Arkboss draw his guns again and take aim. Adrenaline spiked in my bloodstream, and I screamed the only word I could think of. The word carved into my forearm.

“Coward!”

“Fight me like a warrior would, blade to blade.” I cried. Tears stung my eyes for the valiant new friends I’d lost. If only I’d been better, I could have protected them. And now it was left to me to avenge them. As I approached the demon I saw what remained of the fallen hunters. Marvin’s skinning knife, forged of titanium, stood hilt-up embedded in the rock. It still glowed with the heat of the explosion, which had burned up everything else it touched.

Arkboss’ aura shifted back to black and the fiery greatsword appeared in his hands.

“If you can stand to approach me, I shall kill you however you like.” The demon spat. It took up a high guard as if expecting to behead me as easily as it had Dirk.

Getting close to it was like wading into a bonfire. I feared my clothing would erupt, and my lone eye watered with the heat. It bit at my exposed fingers where they wrapped around my sword and threatened to sear my hair. Sweat sprang up from my flesh, all but evaporating beneath the fearsome temperature.

I knew I had to finish the fight immediately, or else I would lose. I could not stand exposure to his aura for long. I surged forward and sent a salvo of stabs at the demon’s chest. He swept them aside with deft movements of his greatsword. I kept pressing, gritting my teeth against the heat and hacking at his legs and then his head. He deflected each blow, snarling at my speed and the surprising force I could deliver with a sword. He was good - perhaps even a master of the blade - but despite his years of experience, I had more tricks in my cap.

As Arkboss staggered from the weight of my latest attack, balancing on his back leg, I spun and kicked the inside of his knee. He roared, keeping his balance somehow, but I was not finished. I struck upward, smashing his jaw with the crystal sword’s pommel, and then cleaved down. The final strike would have opened anyone else from throat to crotch. But even my keen blade only produced a small gash in the bastard’s chest. More green blood spewed on my jacket, and before my eyes the cut began to heal. I spun again, aiming another blow at the demon’s neck.

“Stop.” I heard him speak the word, and heard it inside my mind, and my soul. I froze, despite every ounce of me wanting to hack his head off. “I tire of this,” Arkboss continued, rearing back. “You are a skilled fighter, but your mind is young and weak. You will stand there like a statue while I kill you, the last of this ill-construed hunting party.” He swung for my neck.

“NO!” Somehow I tore my mind away from his grip, and ducked beneath his swing. Still, I could feel him scrabbling for control of my mind. If only I could kill him-

His aura shifted again, back to purple, and the agile tentacles leaped forth. It was all I could do to turn them back with my sword, and my willpower was failing against his telepathic onslaught. I could not hope to fight him. Not alone. I knew of only one person who could.

Fortunately, I thought I knew where to find him. I opened a portal in the air and leaped through, letting it snap shut behind me.

Alone in my dojo in the mountaintop village of Yutori, Akashima, I meditated. Suddenly a strong energy signature appeared behind me. I felt the crackle of magic as surely as one might feel a familiar handshake. It was a portal created by my friend and former student, Jake Narmolanya. I hadn’t seen him since he’d enlisted my help in hunting down the assassin Lichensith Ulroke, so it eased my mind to know the half elf still lived.

“Jake,” I called from where I sat cross-legged in the middle of the sprung rywan floor. “What is it this ti-”

“Josh!” His voice was frantic, flooded with emotion and adrenaline. “I’m being chased by a demon. Get up! I need your help!”

“Jake,” I said patiently, “you can’t come running to me every time you-” I cut off as another energy signature appeared behind me, this one foreign. A second magic-wielder had teleported into the dojo. I still saw no reason to stand.

“You fool,” the newcomer spat, his voice smooth but cruel, “did you not think I could follow you? And you fled to this-” he sputtered breathlessly - “wooden toy building? It will burn, with you and your friend there inside of it.” Demonic energy swelled behind me, confirming my suspicion that the newcomer was Haidian. He was drawing power to launch some form of fire-grenade. A green glow crackled in the darkness. The power draw took only a fraction of a second, like a trained boxer preparing to throw a punch. To someone like me, that time was all it ever took.

As much as I didn’t want to clean up Jake’s mess, if my dojo burned, the village would likely go up with it. I could not allow that.

I extended my body and stood as swiftly as a viper strikes. The demon saw me turn, and I saw him change his aim. Rather than aiming the crackling green fireball at Jake, he threw it straight at me.

I spread my hands and stepped forward. The fireball struck my chest and I absorbed its energy like an elephant sucking up a single droplet of dew.

“What?” The demon roared. “Who are you?” His eyes lit on the Y-shaped scars on my cheeks, and then on my patented black metal boots. ”NO!” He cried, attempting to seize control of my mind. His effort glanced off my defenses like a steel sword striking an adamantine shield. His green aura shifted to purple, and fiery tentacles leaped toward Jake and I.

I drew on my connection with the ocean goddess Am’aleh, and a controlled wave of water appeared, surrounding the demon and coursing inward. His tendrils sizzled and vanished, the purple aura replaced by a black one that steamed the last of the water. Black scorch marks formed on the floor beneath the demon’s feet. I brought my hands together and sent a bolt of pure energy toward the semi-healed gash in his sternum. It struck with the force of a mythril-headed crossbow bolt, and he collapsed to one knee, his aura changing to red. Two lances of fire jetted toward me, but the demon’s mana was failing. I fizzled the lances with bursts of water and raised a menacing hand.

“Leave now,” I said, pointing a callused finger between his eyes, “or the next bolt I fire will kill you.”

The Haidian snarled and considered the firearms on his belt, but his aura dissipated and he teleported away with a snap of magic.

“Josh,” I exclaimed, “thank you. I’m so sorry about the floor. I’ll have it-”

“Nevermind the floor, Jake!” Breaker replied, rounding on me angrily. I had never really seen him angry before, and it was pretty scary. His hazel eyes flashed and veins stood out on his forehead like a crown of thorns. “What if I had been teaching a class? You can’t just bring every demon who doesn’t die easy to my doorstep!”

“I know,” I said, the adrenaline fading, regret rushing in to take its place. “I’m sorry. I swear I wasn’t being careless. I had a whole party with me, and they all-” I choked on the words and turned away to dash a sleeve across my eyes. “They all died. It’s up to me to avenge them.”

“Look at me, Jake.” His tone was frustratingly patient, and yet had a hard edge to it. I turned and met his gaze. “I am not the instrument of your revenge. It is good to see you, but I wish it could have been under different circumstances…”

“I thought you’d at least help me,” I interrupted, my cheeks coloring with anger. “Give me a lesson or something. Can’t you teach me to resist his telepathic attacks?”

“I could,” Cronen frowned, “but it would take time, and I have other students, and other responsibilities to consider. And you left, Jake. You’ll always be a friend, but you’re no longer a pupil.”

“Couldn’t I study under you on a sort of temporary basis?” I wheedled, but I knew it was no good even before he shook his head. I’d pushed Breaker too hard by showing up with Arkboss in tow. There would inevitably be push back. I mean, they call him Breaker.

“I have several classes of full time students here. Most of them journeyed from far away to learn from me. I don’t have time to give you private lessons like I used to.”

“Well then… maybe some advice? Come on Josh, you gave me that much when I wanted to go after Ulroke.” I felt empty on the inside. Devastated by the trauma of loss, and absolutely without direction. I had no idea how to best such a powerful demon.

“Very well,” Breaker relented. “Tell me about this Haidian.” He sat cross-legged in the middle of the floor, facing away from me.

“His name is Arkboss the Hunted.” I stepped to the paper-thin wooden wall and saw that Josh’s students had carved their names there with pins. Despite the fine Akashiman scrawl, most of the east wall was already covered. “The team I was with had a bounty for him. We were in the process of setting an ambush when he got the drop on us. We knew about his uses of fire, and the guns, and a few other things… but the telepathy caught me by surprise. I wasn’t strong enough to fight it. I had to run, and this was the only place… I knew I’d be safe. I’m sorry for coming. Maybe I should have just died like a warrior.”

“It’s done,” Cronen said, almost indifferently. “Just don’t do it again.” He placed his hands on his knees and took a deep breath, straightening his spine. “One of my students who traveled from Radasanth recently mentioned a blood alchemist who has a shop in the city. I’d say you have more than enough of the demon’s ichor on your jacket for a skilled potion-maker to brew a draught that would make you resistant to the demon’s powers… at least temporarily.”

I turned away from the wall of names. A fire as hot as Arkboss’ black aura burned within me. I had a new direction, a new purpose, a new chance. I drew on the Eternal Tap and prepared to conjure a portal to Radasanth.

“Thank you, Josh. What’s the name of this shop?”

A Single Drop:

The sign above the door read "A Single Drop" in an elegant script, with a single green teardrop carved and painted into the wood beside the name. In Radasanth's underground network, this store had become known as a place where one could acquire a selection of poisons and antidotes, and even have custom crafted ones made, with no questions asked and no Guild interference. The proprietor was a redhaired man who seemed to always be working alone here,
but he was polite to a fault when dealing with people. A few ruffians had tried taking advantage of the store, thinking that a single man couldn't be that intimidating - right until that bloody whip had bled them out, coiling around them and stabbing in with sharp barbs. Then the alchemist had cheerily given them a surface patch up, binding any wounds, and tossed them out onto the street once more.

The interior of the store neat and orderly, and somewhat dark in the interior. This was due to the fact that the sources of light were small flames that burned in the corners of the room and a desk torch behind the counter - a minimum of light being provided, and a minimum exposed flame to keep any accidents from occurring. There were shelves along each wall, and in the middle of the room two standing shelf units. The two on the walls held a variety of bottles, some glowing on their own and others not, in a variety of colors - but also locked behind a mesh cage, to prevent anyone from just wandering off with one of the bottles. The shelves in the middle of the room held plants and small mineral samples, each labeled neatly with what they were - here, only one shelf was locked, and this one bore the outright poisonous substances, those things that were harmful even if ingested directly. Behind the low wooden counter - which held a ledger and a register - was a door, currently closed, that lead into the back of the store.

This night had been fairly quiet for Nevin, the owner of the store. There had been a slight ruckus when he unveiled the fact that he could do blood based magical alchemy, drawing a few people, and chasing others away. But he simply treated it as another avenue of his business, and made a trade in providing his skill in drawing out some kind of quality inherent within blood that was brought to him. The concept had seemed a bit strange to people at first - until he sold a potion that captured the inherent ability to 'jump' brewed from several rabbits. The boy had been bounding on rooftops, cheerfully avoiding his parents for nearly an hour before the serum wore off. After that, he had seen an uptick in curious onlookers, those who wondered just what was going on with this strange man with the blood-red hair. A few people had tried calling him out, claiming that he had obviously rigged the potion - until he, fed up with the accusations - which he firmly believed were being generated by agents from the Alchemist's Guild that he was currently clashing with - until he had literally hunted down a deer, and dragged it kicking and screaming back into town. Literally, kicking and screaming, the thing had been terrified, and impaled on his barbed whip, so he couldn't blame it. Still. The rather blatant display afterwards, as he made a healing potion from the life force of the deer quelled any nay-sayers in the crowds. It also dried up the business from families who were looking for things for their kids, but he dealt with that as it came up.


So now, he was currently rearranging the bottles that were arrayed in one of the cabinets on the side of the store. He had recently sold several potions and had to rebrew more, so he was taking this opportunity to clean up a little and reorganize his wares. Apparently there was a rash of 'Yellow Death' poisonings running around, so Nevin was making sure that the antidotes he sold to counter that particular toxin were closer to the front. He paused when the interior of his shop rang with the ring of the door chime. He honestly hadn't been expecting it at this point, with the night having gone by so peacefully. He quickly shut the shelf and turned towards the person walking into his shop - and his hand flew up, his magic coursing through him and shooting out towards the other man.

The blood, the green ichor that was raging, furious and loud, along the half-elf's jacket, shot off, and hung in the air for a moment before compacting inwards, becoming a solid green rock that fell towards the ground. Nevin was rubbing the bridge of his nose, and desperately wishing that he wasn't working right this very second so he could pour himself a drink. Whatever the thing was that the blood had come from, it was inordinately powerful, and absolutely enraged. And it was making his head ache, as the chorus of his skin cried out loud, strident wordless songs.

"I... would thank you kindly, not to dirty the store, sir. If you came in here with that, I presume you want me to do something with it? And what in the name of Crimson did it come from?" Nevin's tone was gentle, rebuking as he pointed with one slender, red-lined finger at the green 'rock' on the ground.

I waited until I felt certain the store was empty before entering and approaching the red haired man. Before I could open my mouth he answered my first question, which would have been are you Nevin, the proprietor of this shop? The nifty trick he used to clean my jacket seemed to prove that.

“Sorry about the mess,” I said in case he was a stickler for manners. “I’m Jake Narmolanya.” I straightened my eyepatch and flicked blond locks away from my good eye. “The blood came from a powerful Haidian I’m hunting. I need you to turn it into a potion that will help me defend myself against his powers. Specifically, his telepathic powers. You can keep any leftover blood, and of course,” I pulled a small but weighty sack from my pocket and tossed it on the counter with an audible thud. “As much gold as it takes.”

The alchemist raised an eyebrow at the bag of gold, but he seemed much more interested in the brick of ichor. He levitated it up to eye level and examined it carefully.

“Blood from a Haidian? It’s been some time since I worked with that. And never with such a… powerful sample. This may be beyond my means… besides, there are those who frown on the hunting of Haidians. Other Haidians chief among them…”

“This one is a wanted criminal across Althanas,” I interjected, “there’s a ten thousand gold piece bounty on his head. But I’m not looking to collect it. This green-blooded bastard killed my friends.”

Nevin seemed to consider me for a long while, and then he simply nodded.

“This may take some time,” he said, “feel free to browse the shop while I work.” With that he walked to the back room, lump of green blood floating at his side.

I moved through the aisles and looked at the wares but I didn’t really see anything. In my mind the memory of Selima’s face just before she died played over and over. Her last words haunted me - with her dying breath she had asked me to seek vengeance. The desire to carry out her request burned like a sword pulled fresh from the forge.

“Here you are,” Nevin said, coming out of the back room. How long had it been? An hour? Longer? He carried a small vial containing a dark green substance. My blood potion. I accepted the glass vessel, my emerald eye gazing deep into its contents.

“Will this make me immune to the demon’s telepathy?” I asked.

“The exact effects are uncertain, with ichor of this potential.” Nevin replied. “But, it should at the very least increase your ability to resist this particular Haidian’s powers.” I quirked an eyebrow in surprise when the alchemist took only a few coins from the bag I’d dropped on the counter, and returned the rest to me. “Just a little something for my time,” he added, “the leftover blood seems a fair payment.”

I thanked the crimson-haired man and exited the shop to the sound of chimes, an image of the Haidian mountaintop where Selima’s body still lay forming sharply in my mind.

Darkness swallowed me as I stepped through the portal, landing beside Selima’s body on the cold mountain plateau. The wreckage left by the green fireballs cast silvered shadows beneath the stars, and the hilt of Marvin’s embedded skinning knife glinted in the moonlight. I knew that mountaintop well… and feared I’d never forget it.

“To a joyous afterlife for you,” I whispered to Selima. I didn’t know if the Fallieni believed in an afterlife, but it seemed appropriate. I lifted the glass vial to my lips and drank the dark green concoction.

I nearly retched at the acrid, venomous flavour. It burned my tongue and my throat and settled in my stomach like a live eel. I covered my mouth with one arm and unshouldered my crystal sword with the other. It whispered from its scabbard and I slipped into a moonshadow, opening another portal. This one was just a short hop. It carried me to the bottom of the passageway, near the trap I’d disarmed with a fireball. I still recalled the shape of the rune engraved on the floor.

Firelight flickered ahead. My hope had been validated. Arkboss had returned to his lair.

I crept forwards and peered around the winding corridor’s last corner.

Beyond the open stone door, a green fire crackled in a large vat, its plume of heady smoke magically vented from the enclosed space. Past the flickering flames I saw a long shelf covered in shrunken heads, hands suspended in jars, and a number of other grisly trophies. A table and chair stood on one side of the shelf, while a thick cloth pallet lay on the other. Sleeping atop the pallet was Arkboss the Hunted.

“Get up, scum.” I hissed, straightening my eyepatch and then taking up a two-handed grip on my sword.

Arkboss sat up like I’d put a bolt of lightning through his body. His wild red eyes looked at me from within a twisted, sneering visage.

“I did not expect to see you again so soon,” he said in that unsettlingly smooth voice, “especially not alone. Only a coward runs away.”

“A coward would have killed you where you slept.” I pointed out, tipping the point of my blade at him. “But that would be far too easy an end for you. I’m going to make you suffer, demon. I’m going to watch you die slowly. Now summon your blade.”

“Or you could give me yours.” He commanded, standing and outstretching a scaled hand.

I felt the impetus to give him the weapon and fall under his power, but Nevin’s potion had bolstered my mental defenses. For a moment thoughts of obedience flooded my brain, but then they were gone, washed away like the receding tide. I smiled.

“That won’t work this time,” I said, clicking my tongue. “You’ll have to rely on your mastery of the sword now. Only, you’re not quite a master, are you Arkboss?”

He roared and drew both of the six shooters from his belt. The cavern rang with the concussion of twelve consecutive explosions. As the ringing in my ears faded I allowed the portal I’d summoned in front of myself to dissipate. The bullets had all winged through it, flying up and away into the Haidian night.

“No master of the blade would answer a swordsman’s challenge with a gun,” I taunted. “How did you manage to gain such a false reputation, Arkboss?”

“My reputation was earned on the battlefields of Hrenta Nodos,” he spat, his black flaming aura appearing around him. “I have wielded a blade since long before you were born. And I will wield it long after you are dead.” The fiery greatsword appeared in his hands, and he circled around the vat towards me.

I leaped over the vat of dancing green flame, letting out a primal cry and swinging my sword overhead. Arkboss brought his fiery blade up to defend. In the tight space my smaller frame and weapon gave me an advantage; I moved faster, and my lone eye shone with determination.

With a flurry of strikes I battered him back against the shelf, and as his shoulders struck the sturdy wood I feinted high and struck low. My crystal sword, full of the arcane potential flooding my veins, cleaved through his left ankle. Green ichor spurted from the wound, which began to heal over almost immediately. He could not grow back the foot, however, and he staggered, his black aura flickering.

“Sit down,” I said as he roared in pain, and smashed him in the jaw with my sword’s hilt. He staggered back into the shelf and then slumped to the floor. Shrunken heads rolled away and several jars fell from the disturbed shelf and shattered on the ground, but Arkboss remained still.

I breathed until my lungs stopped feeling full of acid. I flicked my sword, spattering green ichor across the ground, and swung the weapon up into its sheathe. I sorted through the demon’s belongings until I found some tough cord that seemed fashioned from sinew, and used it to bind Arkboss’ wrists and knees. After securing him to the shelf, I turned and created a portal back up to the surface. I would have to move quickly; I doubted simple rope would be enough to keep the demon from teleporting away.

Leaving the hole in reality pulsating, I paced to where Marvin’s heavy-bladed dagger still stood embedded in the mountaintop. I crouched and pulled it free, tucking it behind my belt. I moved to Selima’s body and scooped her cold, limp form up and carried her to the portal.

Even in death, she could watch me finish what we’d started together. I allowed the portal to dissipate and set Selima down in a seated position against the far wall, facing Arkboss. Her head leaned back limply and her eyes gazed lifelessly, but her presence still felt encouraging. My hands shook as I drew Marvin’s skinning knife and reached out, running its razor edge down the demon’s forehead.

He came awake with a bellow, snapping at my hand with dripping fangs. I held the knife firmly in place and it penetrated through the tough Haidian hide. Green blood oozed from the wound, staining the titanium blade.

“You can’t teleport as long as I’m in contact, can you?” I asked as I ran the dagger down the side of his neck, eliciting a rewarding scream of anguish. “I’ve fought teleporters before. So long as I keep this blade on you,” I pushed harder, letting the knife delve beneath the surface of the demon’s skin, “you’re stuck here with me. And I don’t have any intention of removing the knife. Not until you’re dead.”

“This hideout is one of many,” Arkboss said suddenly, his smooth voice full of pain and panic. “Release me, and I can give you anything you want. Gold, power-” his words cut off in an agonized scream as I turned the knife and pulled, tearing away a strip of scaly, leathery skin.

“You killed my crew,” I reminded the blubbering demon as the knife did its wicked work. The volume of my voice dropped. I barely dared to speak the next words aloud, but Arkboss needed to hear them. I leaned close and whispered in his ear.

“For that, I’m going to flay you alive.”

I wiped the sweat from my brow with a blood-stained sleeve, trying to ignore the ache in my back and neck. Skinning a demon alive was more work than skinning a dead deer, but over the past hour I’d put in the labor. A pile of limp, green-brown flesh lay at my feet, dripping ichor. Arkboss looked an absolute mess. His skin had regenerated in some places, but unevenly, leaving muscle and sinew exposed as well as more of his foul-smelling blood.

Pressing the blade of Marvin’s knife into the demon’s neck until he yowled, I crouched down so that my lone emerald eye blazed at his red ones. The arcane green fire still crackled in the vat beside us, throwing shifting shadows across the mess that remained of Arkboss the Hunted.

“There’s a ten thousand gold piece reward on your head,” I told him, chuckling in a way that made me feel sick to my stomach. “No one will ever collect it. Because I’m going to kill you now. Your reputation will fade as people forget your name. Eventually, all your misdeeds will be meaningless. You will be meaningless, and that sounds better to me than a fortune in gold.”

“Finish what you started then, half-breed.” Arkboss snarled breathlessly, his voice thick with pain. He strained against the sinew cords binding him to the shelf, trying to slit his own throat. I instinctively pulled the knife away, and the demon’s words became a triumphant howl. “Fool,” he uttered, and then teleported away with a pop.

“No!” I screamed, stabbing the shelf where the demon’s skull had been. Hot tears of frustration brimmed in the corners of my eyes. I looked back to where Selima still gazed at me, still sightless. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, leaving the knife embedded in the shelf and crawling to her side. “I screwed it all up. I let him get away… but at least you can still be with your friends. I can do that much for you.” I lifted Selima’s body again and carried her to the crackling vat of green flame. “It was nice to know you, Selima,” I said, “even if only for awhile.”

I dropped her body into the vat. The green fire consumed her almost immediately, lapping up her clothing before incinerating her flesh and bone. I smiled weakly, feeling I had done at least one thing right. The smell of the burning body was carried away by whatever magic vented the smoke, and I was left alone with the putrid stench of Arkboss’ skin and blood. I heaved a sigh and then squared my shoulders and reached up to touch the hilt of the dragon sword for strength. I paced to the shelf and pulled Marvin’s skinning knife free, and then set about searching the demon’s hideout.

The portal opened into a back alley in Radasanth’s bazaar district. My leather boots landed on the dirty cobblestone and I allowed the hole in the air to close behind me. On my back I carried a heavy haversack purloined from Arkboss’ possessions. I had just come from visiting the Hunter’s Retreat in Serenti. I’d spread the word of Marv’s group passing, so that eventually it would reach the ears of their loved ones. I also learned the location of a particular shop in Radasanth, which I had heard tell of in the past but never visited. I’d never had a reason.

I trudged past hawkers and storefronts, sidled between shoppers and prostitutes, and circled past carts and wagons. The bustle of the marketplace was a mere ringing in my ears, for the roar of the fire inside me all but drowned out other sounds. It drove me forward despite the fatigue in my limbs, despite the anguish that wrenched at my soul. I had felt that fire before, and knew that it would burn until I hunted Arkboss down and finished the job.

The damned demon needed to die.

But I could be patient - I’d learned my lesson about running after him half cocked. Marvin, Selima and the crew would not have died for nothing. Their loss would be my wisdom, their suffering my fuel.

Rusted bells jangled above the door as I pushed into the nameless little shop. It was set in a side street between a cheap tavern and a questionable fishmonger. I guessed that the foul odors wafting from the neighboring buildings were welcome, as a means of covering any smells that came from the shop. The services provided there were not exactly legal, and heavily frowned upon by most people outside the hunters’ community.

The shelves were full of clothing and other objects made from all manner of leather, the walls adorned by many glassy-eyed taxidermied heads. An aging man with only a few granules of pepper in his salty hair came out of the back room and leaned on the counter, examining me through thick spectacles. I saw him take in my eyepatch, the sword on my back, and the flecks of green ichor still decorating my jacket sleeves. He smiled, thin lips cracking.

“A demon hunter, aren’t yeh? ‘Aint seen yew before. How’d yeh find me?”

“A bartender at the Hunter’s Retreat in Serenti gave me the address. I hope it’s alright, arriving without an appointment.” I needed this man’s skills and expertise as much as I’d needed the blood alchemist. My ordinary sifan and leather clothing offered little protection against the dangers I faced on a daily basis.

“No matter. I’m not busy.” The aging man gestured around at the empty shop. “What’ve yeh got for me then?”

I unshouldered the haversack and plopped it in the center of the counter. The tanner’s knobbly hands moved with steady assurance as he undid the drawstrings and peered inside. His smile grew until it filled his face, displaying several gaps in his teeth.

“Haidian hide,” he said, reaching into the bag with one hand to feel the mixture of scale and flesh. “Been awhile since anyone brought me this. What’s it for?”

“I’d like a full tailored outfit made from it. Jacket, pants, boots, and gloves. Can you do that?”

“Aye, I’m a fine tailor.” He said with a bob of his head. He hefted the weighty sack. “Musta’ been a big bastard yew killed. Still not quite enough hide here for all that, though. Would just the jacket and boots suit yeh?”

I sighed and nodded.

“That’s fine,” I said, “unfortunately, the demon got away.”

“That’s good. Plenty here for a… what did yeh say?”

“The demon got away before I could kill him.”

A menacing glint appeared in the tailor’s eyes.

“We’d best get yew measured and suited up then,” he said, taking a tape measure from his pocket and moving around the counter. “Can’t have enraged Haidians racing about the world. Yeh do intend to hunt him down and finish him, I expect?”

I narrowed my lone eye as he set about measuring my slender shoulders.

“Yes,” I said with absolute certainty, “he suffered enough in losing his skin. The next time we meet, I know that I’ll kill him. There’s just something I need to do first.”

“Good work, everyone,” I called to my assembled students. They stood in a neat row with their fists held forward in a show of attention and respect. Sweat soaked their kimonos and dripped from their hair. “That’s all for today. I’ll see you all tomorrow.” They filed neatly out of the dojo, leaving me alone with the familiar figure who had entered during the lesson. He leaned casually against the thin wall next to the door, regarding me with his lone emerald eye. “Jake,” I smiled, “is that a new look?”

The half elf strode forward with a touch of swagger. He straightened the collar of his green-brown leather jacket and scuffed a matching boot across the black burn mark on the floor.

“What, these?” He said. “Just some new garments I had fashioned at the bazaar. They cost most of what I had saved, but were worth every copper.” He gave a leery grin. “Nothing beats demonhide.” He glanced at my enchanted metal boots. “Well, almost nothing.”

“To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?” I asked. “There isn’t a dragon on your heels, I hope.”

“No,” Jake said, his grin vanishing behind a serious mask. “But there is a Haidian out there that still needs killing. I’m not asking for your help in hunting him. Just… let me learn from you again. I’ll join your regular classes if need be. I’ll even wear those funny pajamas.” He gestured at my white martial arts kimono.

“Jake it’s called a… nevermind.” I shook my head, smiling. “I’m afraid you’d find my regular classes fairly rudimentary. You’re far more advanced than my current students.” I paused and stroked the stubble on my chin. “I suppose I could make the time for a couple private lessons. What are you hoping to learn?”

“I need to defend my mind better. That blood alchemist you sent me to was able to provide a temporary solution, but I need to be able to shrug off the demon’s telepathy any time I run into him. I need to learn to control my thoughts like you do.”

“Good,” I said. “That’s something you should be able to learn in a few days of training. But first… I’d like to hear the story of how you happened to skin such a powerful demon alive.”

“Oh that?” Jake shrugged. “That was nothing. Fighting him was the hard part… when I tell you about it, you’ll be proud of me.”

“I will?” I grinned until the Y-shaped scars on my cheeks dimpled. “Why is that?”

The half elf returned my smile with the same cheekiness I’d always known him for.

“I didn’t depend on my portals to beat him.”

Judgment

Story

Plot: 6/10

The thread opens with a nice scene that gives a little introduction to Jake and his relationship with the Haidans that he hunts, immediately giving some useful insight for both story and characterisation purposes. After this, the plot focuses mostly on Jake’s recruitment by Marvin’s crew at the tavern in their quest to hunt Arkboss; the most dangerous demon Jake has hunted to date.

The early posts in the thread carefully take Jake through the process of being introduced to the group, testing them thereafter. It is to your credit that you are always careful to eventually explain what I would consider to be “question mark” moments well and not to leave many loose ends untied, and it is this attention to detail that keeps the story fresh. Even if they are only small things, having the bartender explain why one moment he couldn’t remember Jake’s name and then the next day the group knows a lot about him are those type of moments the reader questions and you make sure, where possible, to tie these bits up. Little nuances you introduced, like explaining out details of the Haidan’s own micro-culture and their rituals, served to enhance the experience further and was actually rather educational.

One of the main worries I had for this thread was that whilst Arkboss was obviously going to be the main challenge, there have been times in the past where I felt you didn’t present your characters with an obstacle that really pushed them to their capabilities. For the most part, I was pleasantly surprised to see that the demon was far more of a problem for Jake and his party than anticipated, and in particular I enjoyed the ease in which he dispatched Dirk and caused grievous damage to the others (although I did find Selina’s death a little cliché). What followed, though, felt like a bit of an asspull. It wasn’t so much that Jake called upon Breaker for help; the admission that he was too weak to defeat Arkboss on his own showed some diversity and adherence to his character, at least, but the fact that Breaker somehow knew that making a potion out of demon blood would halt the effects of his abilities was a little too convenient.

That said, Arkboss is still alive, minus his skin of course, so there is potential for a good follow up. I hope to see the conclusion of the conflict soon because, small criticisms aside, this was a good thread with lots of potential for future expansion.


Setting: 6/10

The early setting was as typical as you can get for a hunting story, but typical does not mean poor by any stretch. Whilst larger aspects of the respective areas were mostly left to the imagination, save for the opening posts in the tavern and a rather gorgeous opener describing Serenti, you excelled at utilising the smaller details within the settings. Simple, particular descriptions such as the state of Jake’s “room” in post three not only add to your setting, but make it come alive.
The wider setting in the journey to Arkboss himself, though, seemed a little lacking without being terrible. I found myself reading mid thread posts where Jake would arrive “on a mountaintop plateaux” but without any real expansion into the medium level details, such as the immediate surrounding area or features. It seemed as if you either concentrated on the very fine details, which were done superbly, and the very large details without much mind paid to the bit inbetween. With consideration given to that across the breadth of your thread, your score here would have been a lot higher. That said, what you did do was done very well.


Pacing: 8/10

One of the better areas of your thread was the way you ensured the spread of the writing never became bogged down or dull. From your excellent opening with Jake chasing the demon, to the scenes in the tavern where Jake is first recruited and right the way through to Jake’s interaction with Breaker, the posts flowed with an easy-on-the-eye level of continuity. There was one moment where pace was slightly interrupted late on in the thread (when Jake first “summons” a portal to Breaker upon encountering Arkboss) but I’m putting that down to personal preference and I think I’m probably nitpicking anyway. Not much more to say here other than well done!


Character

Communication: 7/10

Communication is one of the areas I believe you excelled in. You have a knack for writing both Jake and your NPC’s well, which is more difficult than it looks in a thread like this where you are introducing and utilising so many different people, and the way that they all communicated made sense. There was one moment a little earlier in the thread, though, which appeared slightly contradictory:

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Jake

“You’d best hope that this Arkboss isn’t as good a fighter as me,” I said critically. “Otherwise, most of you will probably die.”

That ended Marvin’s mirth quickly. He slipped his mace back through its belt loop and nodded at his compatriots in turn.

“That’s why we have inside information, and a plan. It all hinges on your portalling ability, so I hope you’re well rested. And don’t think so little of us. You may have surprised us with your nifty Breaker-tricks, but we’re a fighting unit unlike any you’ve ever seen. Just last week, we took out a whole hive of vamps. Must have slain at least two score of them between us.”

“Alright, you’ve convinced me,” I said, sheathing my sword fluidly and holding up both palms. “You all seem very well trained. I just hope this demon we’re after is equally impressed.”

---

It seemed to me that in a very short time, Jake had gone from doubting their survival chances to then saying they were all up to scratch, and even though you could argue that the context I highlighted doesn’t take into account Marvin’s response, it still didn’t make a lot of sense. In any case, that was more or less my only issue and otherwise felt that Jake’s personality shone through his dialogue, and your supporting cast held their own rather than feeling too generic.


Action: 8/10

For the most part, your action was really good. For me, the thread was split into two parts – pre-Arkboss and post-Arkboss.

I’ve already touched upon this in previous commentary above but the negatives I seem to address the most with your threads revolve mostly around your characters' lack of development due always succeeding in their tasks. I was so pleasantly surprised here – although pre-Arkboss Jake predictably bested his entourage in sparring with little difficulty, the appearance of the demon really did throw me for a loop. Arkboss himself was a bastion of unpredictability and excitement, making short, excruciating work of Dirk and Selina and really pushing Jake to the wire (to the point that he felt he even had to summon Josh to help out, which was not well received by Breaker). Skinning Arkboss alive made a good action score into a great one (along with an honourable mention to the stone door in the face in your opening post).
I mentioned this before, but the only real detraction was the Arkboss blood potion plot point. I think that really impacted plot more than action, but it was worth noting that in a thread with action of this quality it still felt a bit out of place.


Persona: 6/10

Persona was certainly a strength for Jake, and while still very good I felt perhaps a little more thinly spread for your other characters. You actually write multiple people very well indeed, ensuring their words and actions are in keeping with the personalities the writing weaves for us, and I was still able to get a good feel for who your NPC’s were, especially with the introduction of Marvin and the gang in the tavern. Perhaps one thing that felt missing in this thread was more of what you did in Need for Steed, with a little less attention paid to the diversity of the characters here than there. Other than Jake, there wasn’t a standout; it felt very much like a main character plus supporting cast divide was in effect. As badass as Arkboss was, he too felt a tiny bit generic. That said, consistency is equally as important and throughout the thread I would say you did a great job on this front, ensuring that their tones and characters remained in keeping that way for the duration of the thread.

On a final note on this point, I think the nicest bit was the conclusion, where Jake was quite clearly proud of the fact that he hadn’t used portals to defeat Arkboss at all – something which his mentor, Breaker, had lectured him about before. It showed that Jake looked up to Josh and that his mentor’s opinion mattered, which is testament to his character. Nice work!


Prose

Mechanics: 8/10

Once again, this was perhaps the easiest part of the commentary to address thanks to the near faultlessness in your mechanics. I found precisely one spelling error ("woolen"instead of "woollen" in post three) and an odd sentence in post seven "They squirmed and fought like caged squirrels, but the could not shake me loose." I've said this before, but one of your greatest strengths is your command and usage of the English language, so as is usually the case when I tackle such high-quality threads I am going to find it hard to give you any meaningful advice to improve this area. I will, of course, try. Firstly, when you are writing and posting at speed, I find a quick spell check of each post before posting very useful, followed by a second cursory glance. In all honesty though it just feels as if I'm teaching you to suck eggs!


Technique: 8/10

There are far more positives than negatives. The way you describe your actions within your surroundings and visualize the consequences of your actions in an unfamiliar (to me) first person perspective impress me greatly; which is probably why I was as disappointed as I was with your "middle ground" setting, given your obvious strength here. When reading, I like to be pulled into the story and made to feel as if I were Jake, Marvin, Selina, Dirk or Joshua himself, feeling the very same sensations the character is at that moment in time.

I thought it was an odd technique to also bring Joshua into the first person, given that the majority of his writing is usually done in third person, but I can understand the need for consistancy here and it didn't affect the score anyway. I also enjoyed the structure of your writing, with clever uses of pregnant pauses and paragraphing to break up the meatier action from the important dialogue. You wove posts together and they appeared seamless through the thread, which in itself is an achievement given the length. Put simply, you did not disappoint.


Clarity: 9/10

With regards to clarity, I can't really remember a point where I didn't know what was going on other than with regards to a lack of that dreaded "middle section" setting I have been waffling on about. However, this small issue aside, you have a gift for keeping the reader’s mind clear and focused on the events of the thread. Well done!


Wildcard: 8/10

Although the thread had flaws, none of them were big enough to put me off enjoying this one and giving me a much better insight into Jake. You also did a fantasic job of setting up for a potential sequel, if you wanted to. Thank you for allowing me to judge this and bearing with me whilst I had technical issues with my laptop!


Total score: 74

Congratulations!

[Edit to follow with rewards]

Rewards as follows:

Jake receives 5020 EXP, with the following spoils granted:

(1) Haidian demonhide jacket
(1) Haidian demonhide pair of boots
(1) Titanium skinning knife

Breaker receives 835 EXP and 40 GP!

Nevin receives 270 EXP and 20 GP!

All rewards are inclusive of the bonus EXP on offer for the hunting event!

All rewards added!