The wager

[grim137]

“I’m telling you, back when I was a youth the Citadel was the place to go if you wanted to test your mettle.”

“Yeah that was a century and a half ago old one. Now it’s filled with nothing but wannabes who spend too much time listening to tales of Damon Kaosi or Letho Raveheart.”

The speakers in question were two aristocratic, livelike vampires. The younger, larger and armor clad one being Xanbata Grim and his elderly looking, robe-wearing friend was Mordecai Alban. The two were sitting at a table in one of the many high-class restaurants available in The Knife's Edge, enjoying a hot meal and a few drinks. The conversation they were engaged in had started off as talk about past battles they’d each had which inevitably led to talk of Corone’s famous Citadel.

“Really, now that’s a bit of a damned shame isn’t it?”

“I guess, though its not much fun killing somebody when they don’t stay dead.”

“But it's an advantage when they kill you.”

“To bad nobody that could do that ever sets foot there anymore,” responded Xanbata confidently.

“Well you’re confident, would you care to make a wager?”

“What kind?”

“Nothing major my friend, but how about say 200 gold pieces that the next opponent you face in combat is able to best you?”

“You’ve got a deal, remind me next time we’re in Corone, I’ll be sure to make a trip to the Citadel to relieve you of the money.”

Mordecai merely laughed and dipped his fingers in the barbeque sauce that came with the meal before using it to start drawing an odd sort of diagram on the table that he and his more violent friend were sitting at.

“What are you doing?” asked Xanbata.

“It’s a teleportation spell I recently learned through my studies, it should take us right to Corone.”

******
20 minutes later the two vampires were standing out in the cold snowy, cobble stone streets just one block away from the Citadel and walking slowly towards the Citadel while enjoying the warm air (warm compared to that of Salvar’s anyways) and discussing the terms of their bet. The opponent was to be chosen by the Monks of Albrion, though the strongest one available at the time was to be requested. This was in the interest of the fairness since the precise wording of the wager was that at any given time there was no combatant in the citadel capable of defeating Grim. Defeat was defined when one combat was either dead or signaled, either physically or verbally, that they had no interest in continuing the fight.

The discussion about the bet to be had lasted the two friends long enough for them to reach Corone’s most famous of buildings. Though when the two arrived there they both stopped to admire the amazing architecture. One hadn’t seen the place in many decades and had forgotten its magnificence, where as the other had never seen it before at all having been literally blind during his many previous trips.

“Wow, I forgot how amazing this place looked,” said Mordecai with admiration “but enough gawking, you’ve got money to win me.”

“We’ll see old one,” and equally amazed, yet still colder sounding Xanbata as the two predators walked forward into the building.

((Open to one other member of any level. Feel free to make the setting. Mordecai will serve as an observer in the match but will not interact with either of us in any way shape or form during the battle.))

[Call me J]

Jame was in Radasanth, without much, if any of a plan. Despite the Civil War in Corone, Radasanth was comparatively peaceful, especially when balanced against places like Salvar and Raiaera. There was a bit of noise in the city, but there were more people complaining about the way conflict had affected the price of things than people who were directly involved in the fighting. It was one of the things that Jame enjoyed. After his misadventures in Raiaera and Scara Brae, he just wanted a few moments of peace. Now, he hummed disaffectedly, only noticing that he had passed by the Citadel in passing.

From out of nowhere, a voice interrupted him. “We have just the battle for you… Mr. Kaosi.”

Upon hearing the word “Kaosi” Jame’s neck practically spun backwards as he turned to look at who it was who had said it. He saw one of the Ai’brone monks, clad in a simple homespun robe. The monk’s face was covered by a hood, though Jame could tell from the voice that he was talking to a woman.

“I’m not interested in a battle,” he said. “And I’m not the one you’re looking for…”

The monk didn’t miss a beat. “Why did you turn around?” she asked.

Jame shook his head. “Whatever…” he replied. He began walking away.

The monk pulled back her sleeve to reveal a hand covered in strange tattoos. One of them was a symbol that Jame had noticed. It had belonged to old Brotherhood, an organization that Damon Kaosi had once lead. “Your father went to a lot of trouble to get a battle for you…”

“Who the hell are you?” Jame asked. He shivered a bit, but it wasn’t because of the cold. The half dragon had dealt with too much mystery lately to want to deal with any more. He continued walking away.

“My name,” the monk began. “Is Sevviel. It should mean nothing to you, but it would mean a great deal to your father. He had divined that you would be able to find a test in the Citadel today…”

Jame heaved a sigh and turned around. Sevviel took off her hood. Jame was surprised by how young she looked. Her hair was styled in bright blonde ringlets that were framed perfectly by her dainty features. Jame smiled. He had always been weak before a pretty girl. Still, Jame had no interest in battling in the Citadel. The amount of carnage he had witnessed in Raiaera made him intolerant of the prospect of the Citadel’s pantomimes.

“And what if I don’t want a test?” he asked.

Sevviel smirked, as if she had anticipated that question. “Then you’ll fail when it counts…” she said.

Jame sighed. He didn’t want this battle, but he doubted that he’d have much of a choice. Resigned to his fate, he took his spear out from its holster and followed Sevviel into one of the Citadel’s chambers. Sevviel asked him if he had any particular preferences with the setting.

“Let’s just get this over with…” Jame said. “I’d have fought this outside if that was what you’d have wanted…”

Sevviel giggled. “Alright then…” she said. She waved her hand, and then opened the large oaken door. Inside, she revealed the area just outside of the Citadel. The large wide steps that lead up to the large oaken door were created as accurate replicas, replete with the freshly fallen snow.

Jame exhaled. “I’ll know next time not to be so literal…” he said. He didn’t relish the prospect of fighting on steps. It seemed too easy to make a mistake there. Still, if he hadn’t chosen to be in this battle, it seemed only fitting that he was not able to choose who he was going to fight either.

The half dragon entered and watched as Sevviel shut the door on him. He grinned expectantly, not because he was happy, but because he was nervous. He fidgeted with the smooth wood of his spear, with his hands delaying longer on the strips of liviol nihon that had been mixed into the shaft. Soon enough, Jame would enter a new chapter of his destiny. He was ready for it to begin.

[grim137]

“One of you must be the test.”

The Mordecai and Xanbata looked inquisitively at the female monk who greeted them at the door. Normally one had had to walk a few feet past the entrance to be acknowledged by the monks but this one had wasted no time in welcoming the bloodsuckers in a most peculiar of manner. Even if the monks had taken up a policy to greet their visitors at the door, doing so in such a manner was quite strange, even for them.

“I think you have us confused with somebody else miss,” responded Mordecai, opting to speak for both him and Grim “my friend here is simply looking for a fight, preferably with the strongest warrior you have available at the moment.”

“Of course you are. Follow me,” said the monk seemingly sincere in her remark, though her voice sounded as though she still knew something that neither of the two members of Do’negh’s elite knew.

The faint presence of such a sound in the monk’s voice was not lost on Xanbata Grim who, having been blind the vast majority of his previous life as Tarry Whealer, had learned to pay attention and pick up subtleties in the way sentient creatures spoke to him. This combined with his natural paranoia and the fact that the monk’s life force felt vaguely familiar to him did not sit in his mind.

“Before we go anywhere monk, what did you mean that one of us must be the test?” said the psychotic vampire.

“It is none of your concern, like I said I must be mistaken and my name’s Sevviel, not monk, bloodsucker.”

“You insolent little c…” Xanbata stopped when felt Mordecai’s hand placed firmly on his shoulder and noticed that the older vampire had summoned his liviol staff from whatever void the sorcerer liked to keep his stuff.

“Forgive my friend here his tongue has a tendency to be sharper than his blade and he’s often hasty to use it,” said Mordecai, trying his best to sound truly sorry for the actions of Xanbata Grim, though in truth he really didn’t care, he just thought it a bad idea to murder a monk in broad daylight in the middle of the Citadel.

“I’ve dealt with worse, now please follow me,” said Sevviel clearly irked by Xanbata’s behavior.

This time the two vampires obeyed and followed the monk through ornate hallway of the citadel, passing by many doors as well as ornate engravings and paintings detailing such famous citadel battlers as Luc Kraus, the increasingly infamous Dan Lagh’ratham, and many others until finally they stopped at one of the many identical doors.

“This is where you’ll be fighting,” said Sevviel to Xanbata before she turning to Mordecai “and I take you wish to view this battle.”

“Your since of perception is good,” responded the old sorcerer.

“Very well, come with me I know where we can observe the coming fight.”

With that Sevviel and Mordecai walked off. Xanbata observed them for a second before opening the door to the arena where he was supposed to face whatever opponent the monk had chosen for him. Hopefully whoever was unfortunate enough to have to face him would put up some sort of fight, since that always made the kill that much sweeter.

[Call me J]

Jame wasn’t sure what to make of his challenger. He wondered how this could be his destiny. It felt so contrite and artificial, just like the Citadel itself. The callow half dragon had never liked the idea of these battles, and while his deepest bits of vile were reserved for the Dajas Pagoda, Jame had more than enough contempt left over for the Citadel. He hated Damon too, for putting him in this position. More than anything else, Jame hated his fate. He hated to be at the mercy of the consequences for actions he had never wanted to take. He worried now that this man with the double-edged prevalida sword would be one of those consequences.

While Jame didn’t know much about battles, he knew that prevalida swords were expensive and uncommon. Any warrior that possessed one not only carried a strong weapon, but also a signal that they were not to be trifled with. Two years ago, when he was still just a child, he remembered hearing a story about a young adventurer who had taken his father’s money to buy a prevalida weapon, only to have it stolen soon after by a band of ruffians. Jame knew he wasn’t looking at that kind of a man right now.

Though he might have been able to gain a bit of an advantage by attempting a surprise attack, Jame figured he would be better of starting with small talk. It seemed to be the custom in these sorts of battles that the competitors would introduce themselves to each other, and in his limited experience with them, Jame found that he could often gain a few insights that would help him plan the strategy.

Given what Sevviel had told him, Jame knew that he was going to be meeting someone who was an equal match. However, the half dragon wanted to know what their relative advantages would be. His opponent was a bit pale, and Jame suspected that he could be a nosferatu.

“My name is Jame...” he said. He offered no introduction beyond that. Instead, he began to size up the difference between himself and his foe. He was glad that he had already climbed up the steps, it would give him a tactical advantage. With the snow, he knew all he would need to win would be to knock this man off his balance, then, the snow and the slippery steps might just do the rest.

However, Jame couldn’t shake an uncomfortable feeling that this battle wouldn’t be that easy. He suppressed a visible gulp. He feared that any sign of dread could be his undoing.

[grim137]

“Is this a fucking joke?” thought Xanbata bitterly as he emerged into the arena only to find that he was standing outside of the Citadel once again, or at least a perfect replica, down to the falling snow of the outside.

“Wait a minute…”

While the often paranoid Xanbata may have at first thought that the monk had decided to play a trick on him it didn’t take long to realize that, like all arenas, this was simply an illusion made to look like the outside of the Citadel. What made this obvious was the half dragon standing on top of the steps looking down at the vampire. Of course a few quick looks around and the observant predator noticed that the place had a distinctly artificial look and feel.

With such a realization in mind the vampire proceeded to look at around the arena, all but ignoring his opponent. He kept slight watch on the half dragon with his spirit sense, ignoring the creatures words, and instead choosing to look for anything sign of things that were our of place. This was may have been Xanbata’s first time in the Citadel but he had been many times before when he was still Tarry Whealer, and had learned from such experience the some opponents liked to be creative when having the monks make them a battlefield and hid traps and other such unpleasant surprises. Luckily it seemed there were none though the bloodsucker couldn’t help but wish he still had the ability to sense metals since that would have allowed him to check far more thoroughly.

“Oh well, lets get on with this battle.”

Xanbata didn’t respond to his opponent, Jame as he was called. After all, why should he? The vampire wasn’t there to meet people, he just wanted to kill the half dragon and win the wager he had made with Mordecai and it wasn’t like he was burdened with any sort of inconvenient sense of honor, chivalry or even simple decorum. Instead he merely turned to face Jame and from his forehead, fired a ki blast aimed at the base of his feet. The idea was simple, the stairs were icy and Xanbata simply wanted to see Jame lose his footing and hopefully break his neck in the resulting fall.

Of course if he had learned anything as Tarry it was that things were rarely that simple.

[Call me J]

Jame was a bit taken aback by the initial attack. Fortunately, the blast was coming from far enough that he could get out of the way. It was headed for his ankles, so all Jame needed to do to avoid the blast was to move two steps up. He watched as the blast collided with its intended target, but the only result of the attack was to loosen the snow on the step below him. Jame was pleased to have avoided his opponent’s first attack without suffering any damage. This was the first time in one of these battles that he’d managed to do that.

A broad smile appeared on Jame’s face as he sized up his opponent once again. In other circumstances, he might have thought that his initial dodge was an indication that the battle would be easy for him, but given the way that Sevviel had suggested this battle would be important, Jame knew he wasn’t going to be that lucky. “Plus, there’s that prevalida sword...” the half dragon reminded himself. Still, the prevalida weapon didn’t seem as intimidating as it had seconds ago.

More than anything else, Jame didn’t want to get involved in hand to hand combat. He may have had the height advantage on his side, but given his opponent’s prevalida blade, Jame knew that he was severely outclassed in the materials department. As long as the battle stayed at a distance, Jame hoped that the advantages his opponent possessed because of the equipment disparity could be minimized.

As he prepared to launch his spear at his opponent, Jame spoke a few words. They were delay tactics now, not niceties, for Jame had already figured out that he wasn’t going to get any meaningful conversation from the muscle bound brute he had been pitted up against.

“So, you don’t like to talk much, eh?” Jame asked. “Are you just shy or are you one of those mutes?

By the time Jame had finished his taunt, he had sized up the difference between himself and his opponent. With that, Jame cocked his hand back and then let his spear fly, aiming it straight for the center of the chest of his opponent. The half dragon smiled as the spear sped through the air, from what he could gather of the trajectory, it looked to be flying true to target.

[grim137]

“What’s the point? We’re here to fight not speak,” responded Xanbata flatly to Jame’s sarcastic question after watching the half dragon dodge the blast with relative yet not terribly surprising ease.

The vampire studied his opponent as the spear sailed through the air, making no attempt to dodge the projectile. Instead he let his armor do its job and analyzed his opponent for the first time as the spear bounced harmlessly off his mythril cuirass and land on the icy ground in front of him. The like the attack results of Xanbata’s supernatural analysis were also rather insignificant, well mostly.

“Half dragon, age 23ish, male, nothing out of the ordinary except a very slight similarity to Damon’s spirit, interesting but likely coincidental.”

“I don’t know who trained you Jame but they obviously didn’t train you well for you to make a foolish mistake.” said Xanbata picking his opponent’s spear.

The cocky vampire had decided to engage in a small battle of words hoping that perhaps he could learn a little bit more about his opponent, though he didn’t count on it. He also remembers his battles with Storm Veritas in his previous life and knew that he had to be careful not only to avoid losing such battles but also to beware the fact that verbal battles could hide tricks for the physical one. Thus, the bloodsucker decided to keep his words short and sweet before moving into action.

The sadistic vampire quickly drew his own blade and shot his opponent a fang filled smile as he allowed his taint to extend over his deadly prevailida blade. Half curious as to what the haf dragon was capable of and half cautious of the fact that the ice covered steps were likely slippery and that Jame might have some nasty surprise waiting for him the vampire rushed forward at about half the speed he was capable of (meaning he ran forward with 1.5 times the speed that most men could muster) with his blade up in a defensive position. Once the bloodsucker got within range he quickly changed the hold on his sword into an offensive one and swung a large horizontal arc and Jame’s jugular. Again, like his run, the attack was done at half the speed he was truly capable of.

[Call me J]

Jame was surprised with how quickly his opponent had moved up the stairs, though he took it as a positive sign. “Anyone moving that quickly hasn’t thought through the setting,” Jame realized. He unsheathed his steel blade and ready to attack. The half dragon was a bit surprised by how quickly that his opponent had made his way up the steps, and how little trouble he seemed to be having with the cold snow.

The half dragon barely had enough time to gather any fire into his lungs before he saw his opponent’s blade swinging at him. Jame could barely get his feet into a proper defensive position before the attack was upon him. The half dragon got his steel sword up to block the blow, but perhaps he shouldn’t have bothered. The strong prevalida sword sliced into the steel blade.

Jame shuddered. The short sword had practically been cut in two. Sparks had flown, and his weapon was damaged, and Jame had been forced to look away as the prevalida sword had cut into his. Fortunately, Jame’s blade didn’t completely give way. It was just one last inch of steel between his opponent’s sword and his jugular, but that was still enough for Jame. The half dragon’s eyes were open wide, and he reacted the only way he knew how. He pivoted off the back foot and kicked forwards. Given his higher vantage point, Jame only had to kick jus tslightly in order to get his kick aimed at his opponent’s chest, but even then, his pivot foot fidgeted nervously on the snowy step. His equilibrium was shattered, both physically and mentally. Jame was practically disarmed now. He could retrieve his spear, but he didn’t know if it would reach in time.

“So this is the test,” Jame thought. It was the only thought he could manage other than an all encompassing desire to survive. He had been completely overwhelmed by this opponent. Everything about the man had seemed like he was harmless, right up until the prevalida blade had cut into his sword. Now, Jame was learning the hard way that he could never relax in a battle.

[grim137]

“Easiest 200 gold pieces I ever earned,” thought the sadistic vampire smugly as his blade cut deep into the inferior one held by his opponent.

Still Jame had been right about one thing, the cocky bloodsucker had forgotten about ice and snow and the effects that it would have on the stone steps of the Citadel. Even after spending as much time in the mountains of Salvar as Xanbata had and thus growing used to moving and fighting it was it still made things dangerous. Enough so that even with the fanged monster moving at half speed such an oversight on the part of Xanbata was enough to give a Jame a very temporary advantage.

Given Xanbata’s immense speed advantage, dodging the initial kick was easy enough. Unfortunately during the process the vampire pivoted his foot back just a little bit too much and the result was not pretty. His foot on the ice covered edge of the step causing him to lose his balance and with the weight of his armor adding to his momentum he stumbled hard down the steps, dropping his deadly, prevalida weapon in the process and landed on the bottom step.

“Son of a bitch…” snarled Xanbata in frustration as he made it back to his feet before jumping back of the step he was on and landing on the flat but still icy ground.

The fighting on the steps was not an option for Xanbata, his fighting style relied too much on swift sudden movements to be used on such an icy, uneven playing field, even against a clearly inferior opponent such as Jame. Of course the bloodsucker had other tricks up his sleeve and if he couldn’t go up there, he could always get Jame to come down to his level.

With a sneer the vampire quickly fired three quick ki blasts from hands towards his opponent. The first was aimed directly and Jame’s chest, the second at his head so that if he tried to jump up another step it would collide with him in the chest and the third was aimed at his ankles so that if the half dragon were to jump down a step he would again be met with a blast to the torso.

[Call me J]

Balance was difficult for Jame as well. The one foot he had planted on the ground twisted, and Jame just managed to return his second foot to the step before he fell. He staggered a little, but managed to retain his balance. Jame really didn’t want to fall, he knew if he did, he would end up up falling straight into his opponent’s lap.

It was only once he had regained his balance that Jame realized that he had dropped his sword. He tried not to care. His opponent’s prevalida weapon had rendered it all but useless anyways. Still, since Jame had already thrown his spear, he had no weapon handy. He couldn’t take advantage of his falling opponent by doing anything other than summoning his spear into his hands once more.

For a moment, Jame considered running down after his opponent, but he quickly realized how foolish of a strategy that would be. Jame didn’t need to be a genius to realize that his advantage lay in staying as high as he could. He didn’t have speed on his side, and even if he was stronger, his sword had already been damaged beyond use.

Still, now that his opponent had fallen back down, Jame couldn’t help but to feel like he had a chance again. His body felt lighter, and the bruising man he was facing somehow seemed much less intimidated. “He might be fast, but he can also fall,” Jame assured himself.

With his spear in hand, Jame watched as a series of ki blasts headed his way. There was a much wider spread of them, but they were all vertical. All he needed to do was move to the side. Jame straffed. He moved carefully, and dug his spear into the ground for extra support as he moved. The snow beneath his feet was more liquid than solid, and it allowed him to get a bit of traction as his boots sunk down to the stone step. He only hoped he wouldn’t get caught on a patch of ice.

However, Jame wasn’t moving fast enough. The ki blast aimed for his head whizzed past his ear harmlessly, but the other two hit him on his left side. Jame spun a little, and caught mid strafe, he couldn’t hold his balance. He began to fall down the stairs, feet first, his body heading straight for his foe. In his shock, Jame dropped his spear.

“Ach!” he exclaimed the phrase as his back hit the first step. He could feel the cold snow melting on his body, but that hurt less than the sudden bumps every time his back landed on a new step. The only consolation was the cold numbed him just slightly to the pain. The half dragon pulled his head up to protect it from damage, and he looked in the cold eyes of his opponent sternly, as if to say he wasn’t yet beaten.

Still, Jame was all out of ideas. In his panic, he could feel his body transforming. It was almost an autonomous reaction, an impulse within him that clung to his last hope for survival. Jame may not have been much bigger than his opponent in his humanoid form, but as a dragon he was. Scales had begun to coat his body, and wings were sprouting out of his back. As fire built up in his lungs, a few whisps of smoke spewed out of his nostrils.

Still, none of that helped him in the immedate future. Jame wasn't sure how to attack, but since his hind legs were growing claws, if Jame was fortuante enought they would embed themselves in the neck of his opponent. After all, he had been falling feet first anyways. Otherwise, Jame could only hope that he crushed his opponent against the room’s wall.

Either way, it was good to be a dragon.

[grim137]

“Nice trick, I’d expect as much from a half dragon.”

The honestly while the vampire may have been a little bit impressed he was not the least bit surprised by Jame’s transformation. After all there were countless myths, legends, bards tales and drunken ramblings going around Althanas about a half dragon’s ability to assume the form of what many would consider their better half. What the vampire now needed to worry about was how he was going to kill it. Luckily he had a spell for just such an occasion and a good idea on what he was going to do with it.

“He’s going to fucking love this,” thought the vampire with a sadistic smile as a small, glowing orb flickered to life on the tip of his right index finger. It was a spell of his that he liked to call the devolution orb.

This he kept that index finger straight as he quickly drew his plynt combat knife. Instead of backing the actually surged forward towards where he estimated the falling dragon would land. The orb on his finger shot forward with the speed of an arrow towards face of the powerful lizard and soon afterwards the combat knife shot forward in a stabbing motion with thrice the speed that any man would be capable of.

The plan was simple, the devolution orb was to hit the dragon and revert Jame back to his human form hopefully with out causing the lizards momentum to stop. This as Jame fell Xanbata was hoping to meet him with the sharp blade of the knife.

[Call me J]

As the devolution orb hit Jame, the half dragon braced for impact. He had no way to block it, for he was careening straight for his foe. It hit Jame straight in the face, and though he had winced, the orb had no effect. The half dragon had been quite surprised, if anything, the orb had hastened his transformation to a complete dragon. As a result, he let out a feral yell, and all the fire that was in his lungs emptied out.

Though he couldn’t explain it, despite all the wounds he had suffered from the blasts and the fall, he now felt more vulnerable than he did wounded. Jame hated the fact that he was a dragon by nature, and had always done what he could to fit in with what he considered to be the normal people. It was only at times of severe need that he let himself slide back into his natural dragon state, and every time he allowed the transformation to happen, he felt a bit embarrassed.

In a battle, he normally would have had no regrets to do what he needed to do to survive, but somehow, he felt like he had no other options now. He wondered if this was the effect of the orb. “Well if it’s a dragon he wants, it’s a dragon he gets,” Jame thought bitterly. Perhaps it was only fitting. He had heard many stories about war bringing out the beast within during battles, and he had a greater beast than most.

Still, that was no reason for comfort for the half dragon. The fact that his foe’s attack had most likely backfired was no consolation. Higher thought was becoming increasingly difficult for Jame. Where his legs had once been pointed towards his opponent’s heart, they now flailed violently as he writhed in pain. His wings were being bruised by the constant falls along the steps, the thin membranes that held them together were being ripped by the fall.

Even if under normal circumstances, Jame would have had something to say, he wasn’t able to say it now. The last thought he could even recognize was one of regret. Regret over what he was turning into, all in the name of a simple Citadel battle. If this was supposed to be a test, he was probably failing. That last thought was soon drawn out by more feral cries of pain.

The end of the battle was going to be simple, now. Either Jame would have burned his opponent with his flame, crushed him under his weight, or he would be put out of his misery in this feral dragon form. The result barely mattered now, regardless of the outcome, Jame wouldn’t be able to appreciate it in his feral state.

[Call me J]

Grim hasn't posted or responded to my PMs so I'm ending the battle this way and submitting it.

The end of the battle was a blur. By the time Jame had regained a sense of himself, he was laying in a bed in the sanatorium. The angel he had seen from earlier looked down at him kindly, and she offered him a spoonfull of medicine. Meekly, Jame sat up just enough to swallow it. He swallowed the medicine quickly, but then the way he jerked his mouth caused the spoon to fall out of Sevviel's hand and down to the floor.

"Like I can't do anything right," Jame thought with a sigh.

"Sorry," he apologized, ashamed of what had happened. He didn't know if he won or lost, and frankly, he didn't care. He knew that Sevviel had been watching him, and that she had seen him in such a feral state. He wondered if she would tell Damon, and if she did, what would Damon say.

Jame knew that his nature had to be the same as his father's. After all, there were many things that he could do to distinguish himself, ignoring the calls that destiny put on him, eschew the path of the hero as much as possible, and even talking about his father as if he was nothing but another Salvarian peasant, but none of them made a difference.

The fact that Sevviel was an angel made it that much harder for him to bear. He was a beast, and she was pure. It seemed like they shouldn't be anywhere near each other. She hovered over his bed an agonizingly long time, her golden blond ringlets bobbing from her head down onto Jame's face as she reached for something underneath his bed.

"You did well enough for your first time in a real battle here," she said. "The time with Anila didn't really count for much."

Jame smiled appreciatively. Kindness, even borne from sympathy, was very welcome in his state. "Now I know why you're an angel," he offered back appreciatively.

Sevviel smiled, but then raised her eyebrows. "You're a charmer like your father," she said, turning around and putting the spoon and the medicine bottle into her case. "And don't worry, you're more like him than you realize in some of the good ways too..."

After a slight pause, she added, "And by the way, you're good to go."

Jame shuddered. He wondered if Sevviel had been paying attention to the battle if she had said that, or if she was just offering him a meaningless encouraging platitude. In either case, it made him uncomfortable.

"There was a while there where I didn't care, I just wanted to kill something," Jame confessed.

Sevviel smiled. "Don't worry," she said knowingly. "Next time you see Damon, ask him about a drow named Praenuntio. Tell him that I told you to ask..."

Jame smiled. He wondered when he'd see Damon again, but for the moment, it didn't matter. He picked himself out of his bed and began to gather his things.

Less than half an hour later he was out of the Citadel. It was still cold and unsettling, though now it was night, and the moon glowed high in the sky like a bauble just out of reach. It reflected the lights of Radasanth, taking on a slight red color to it. There was a slight chill in the air, not so cold as it was during the day, and some of the snow had already begun to melt, even though it was night.

Jame tried to smile. He heaved one last sigh before disappearing out under the red hot moon.

[Witchblade]

As an unfinished battle, I’m not really going to bother giving too much in the way of detail here, just a few sentences if that.

Call me J

Storyline

Continuity: - 6 I liked how you tried to do a little something more here, by actually giving the battle more meaning than just come here and fight them. Shame that due to the ending it didn’t really get to go much of anywhere or do anything.

Setting: - 6 The setting was okay, nothing special but really nothing bad.

Pacing: - 3 Pacing suffered greatly due to the way the battle ended, but before then it had been going rather well.

Character

Dialogue: - 6 The dialogue, especially between Jame and Sevviel was a nice touch and Jame’s internal dialogue was enjoyable too.

Action: - 6 I would have liked to see Jame react a little better during the battle, but I suppose this is from earlier on in his levels. I did enjoy seeing him come down to his much baser needs as a true dragon, shame that I didn’t get to see more of that.

Persona: - 5 He came through well enough in the thread, but didn’t really shine through the way that he normally does.

Writing Style

Mechanics: - 6 There were a few spelling mistakes that I noticed in the thread, nothing drastic that needs to be mentioned though.

Technique: - 6 Well, you certainly know what you’re doing when it comes to writing.

Clarity: - 8 It was clear, what more do you want from me!?

Wild Card: - 5 It was an all right battle for how far it got.

Total: 57


Grim

Storyline

Continuity: - 6 Like Jame, you tried to throw some actual storyline into the battle and give it a bit of meaning. I liked that.

Setting: - 5 Your setting was all right in terms of description, but you did use it a lot more when prompted too. I would have liked to see more of what Grim was, especially considering he used to be blind. You’d think he’d constantly look at things with a bit of wonder to him or at least with interest.

Pacing: - 3 Pacing of the thread suffered greatly without an ending.

Character

Dialogue: - 6 I have always enjoyed Grim’s internal thoughts, even when he was Tarry Whealer. Really, there doesn’t seem to be much of a different between the two for me from reading this quick thread.

Action: - 5 Nice action, except the part where he was running up a set of stone stairs covered in snow and ice. A little unrealistic and quite silly for a trained warrior spending time in Salvar and knowing how dangerous ice and snow can be.

Persona: - 6 His persona came across well, but for someone mentioned as some cold, uncaring, psychopathic vampire, he did not seem that way to me at all. Seemed quite cool and calm.

Writing Style

Mechanics: - 5 There were far more spelling mistakes from you than Jame and the occasional grammatical error as well.

Technique: - 5

Clarity: - 6 For the most part things were clear and precise.

Wild Card: - 5

Total: 52


Reward:

Jame receives 1,300 experience and 150 GP!
Grim receives 400 experience and 150 GP!

[Witchblade]

EXP and GP added!

Call me J reaches level 5!