One Old & One Dead: Teric vs Jehu

[Bloodrose]

Samir Murad... Teric read the top of the challenge slowly, silently mouthing the name and toying with the syllables on his tongue. Fallien, perhaps. The veteran was pondering, trying to assign the name a geographical origin. It was the first step in Teric's usual process; attempting to discern as much about an opponent as possible before actually having to tangle with them. It was the same process he had gone through with the Northman, Torgrim, who had been his first opponent as a Pagoda warrior. He may have known nothing about the giant man himself, but just knowing that he was a Giantkin, and having seen how Giantkin fight, had proven abundantly helpful.

The old warrior took a generous bite from the green apple in his right hand as he scanned the letter in his left. A Pagoda messenger had hand delivered the parcel as Teric was taking his breakfast, and the warrior hadn't moved from the fruit cart on the corner street before ripping open the wax seal. Yada yada yada, fight this morning, short notice, blah blah blah... He read through the obvious form letter lazily, picking out his opponent's name, the time of their battle, and other important tidbits from the gratuitous wording. Near the bottom of the letter was a "Special Notes" section, almost like a PS after the signature of the sender, and Teric almost skipped it entirely but for one word...

...undead...

A heavy sigh vented itself out through Teric's nose as he rolled his eyes and crumpled the letter up with one hand. First they send me a giant, and now they send me the undead. He took another bite of the apple, this time more forced out of discipline than due to hunger. The thought of dueling his morning away with a zombie didn't exactly inspire pleasant thoughts in the old man, and robbed him quickly of his appetite. The undead were dangerous, unpredictable, and usually followed closely behind by some larger and more potent evil. Of all the challengers they could have sent me...

Insofar as Teric knew, none of the challengers he had faced thus far had taken to asking for him specifically. Amongst the Hierarchs he was still the rookie, a very strange and unusual feeling for an old man accustomed to others looking up to his seniority. As the rookie it was seldom (and thus far not at all) that warrior from outside the Pagoda came looking for him. They came looking for the more longstanding Madison Freebird or Sakurazuka Miyu. If they were truly confident (or crazy) they might even come looking for the fearsome and legendary Dan Lagh'ratham. Each of those warriors had either a name or a reputation here, and until he could build his own reputation, Teric would continue to face the open challenges that the Pagoda masterminds sent his way...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pushing open the heavy double doors in front of him, Teric stepped into his arena already armed and ready for the fight. His shield was strapped securely to his left arm, while the rapier-like Thorn was in his right. The thin, short blade had served him well, but the more and more Teric fought the more and more he was leaning towards finding a permanent replacement. The blade was light and perfect for his fighting style, but it was severely lacking in the power necessary to pierce armor or parry heavier weapons.

Maybe I'll wander down to the Dockside and see if that Quan merchant is still down there. The veteran contemplated absently. His breathing was steady and even, and he left the double doors open as he stepped down into the heavy snow. The open square arena, sixty paces across from corner to corner, was interrupted only by a lonely oak tree enclosed within a wrought iron fence in the center. Although the masters of the Pagoda had erased the footprints and blood in the snow from his previous battle, they had made a particular effort to leave the shattered wood where Torgrim had pulled a branch off the tree to use as a club.

This Samir better not be a 'giant' zombie. Teric half-joked to lighten his mood, looking up at the tops of the gothic-styled walls enclosing the arena. Otherwise I'll have to have a talk with the management of this place...

[Jehu]

The Dajas Pagoda, ‘eh? the servant thought to himself, staring in awe at the massive structure before him, Should be a hoot. Samir scratched his dirty beige robe with his calloused hand then ran his fingers through his thinning hair, Haven’t fought anyone in a long time… Seems like this is the best place to warm up. The pale man tightened the belt of frayed rope around his midsection then strode in through the front doors, not picking up his feet any more than absolutely necessary.

The undead lazily entered the middle of the opening room, which was decorated brilliantly with all sorts of statues and tapestries. A balding monk with a grin large enough to eat a watermelon finally came through one of the doors, “Hello! How may I help you?”

Samir’s mumble was almost inaudible, but the monk could still understand him, “I’m here to challenge somebody.”

“Oh, how delightful!” the man replied, “Who do you wish to fight?”

“I dunno, it doesn’t really matter.”

“Would you like a list of combat-“

Samir answered before the question was finished, “Nope, I don’t care.”

“Alright then, what’s your name?”

“Samir Murad.”

The Monk jotted down a few notes on some parchment, quiet talking to himself, “Samir Murad…Looks about early thirties…pale skin…white eyes…” Finally he spoke louder in inquisition, “You look ill, are you alright?”

“Yeah,” the challenger replied, yawning and scratching his left arm, “I’m Undead.” Part of him was aware of the possibility that the spiritual man could freak out over such a declaration, but the other part of him wasn’t concerned in the slightest.

“Oh, all is well then,” the smile on the Monk’s face didn’t change; obviously undead weren’t so massively uncommon in this part of the world. “Just one more thing… For what purpose are you entering The Dajas Pagoda?”

For a moment, Samir didn’t know what to say. He thought about it as fast as his steady mind could go, then eventually let out a grunt. “Well, my master Rasheed Al-Hazim came here, and I followed as a faithful servant should. He told me to go see if I was still any good, so I obeyed – I reckon he wants me to be warmed up, in case somethin’ bad happens and I need to protect him.”

“Very well, Mr. Murad,” the Monk responded, “I’ll take you to your arena doors now. Your hierarch will be Teric Bloodrose.”

><><><><><><

For a little while, Samir Murad simply sat in front of the still closed arena doors, his back leaning slothfully against a wall. His thoughts were steady and slow, analyzing what was about to come as best as he could predict. The helper had left him at the gates a good while ago, but Samir didn’t care to keep track of exactly how long. Teric Bloodrose, huh? he thought to himself, letting out a big sigh, I’m gonna lose a limb fightin’ somebody like that, I just know it.

Oh well, wouldn’t be the first time, the zombie chuckled to himself.

“Ugh,” Samir repositioned his legs so he could stand up, “I guess it’s time to get out there…” His voice was almost depressed at the notion of moving, but the servant still managed to slowly raise himself to his feet. Placing his hands against each of the doors before him, the zombie pushed outwards with just enough force to pry them open. The moment that the gap in the doors was the size of his chest, the Undead rotated around and barely squeezed shoulder-first into the arena. Too lazy to close the entry behind him, the zombie sulked forward.

The ground was covered in white powder, some of it gathering as high as six inches; its white color matched the aged gray walls that surrounded the large room, the gothic designs of the arena nothing too far out the ordinary. A single oak tree stood in the very center, its leafless form protected by a six foot wrought iron fence. The arena was cold, there no doubt of that; fortunately for the Undead, however, such a thing did not matter - his body did not shiver and his breath was not traced by a cloud, for once-dead humans needed neither feeling of the flesh or air to breath.

When the doors suddenly shut behind him was when Samir finally took note of the competitor on the other side of the arena. “Teric Bloodrose, huh?” he spoke, far louder than his usual monotony would allow, “I don’t know what looks worse; my dead body, or your wrinkly one.” Samir casually closed the distance between the two until they were no more than ten yards apart. The old man was rather stoic, his feet braced for any surprises that the Undead may throw his way.

The challenger’s eyes caught more than their motionless stare would give away, taking special note of a few key features as he analyzed the hierarch. The first was the sword held tightly in his main hand, its elegant shape clearly used as a compliment to the old man’s agility. The armor of the enemy was also taken into account; there was a small shield on his left arm, a steel guard on his right forearm, and a steel breastplate protecting his torso – the opponent was clad in full battle gear, quite the opposite of Samir’s single article of clothing, his rope-tied robe.

What caught the zombie’s attention most, however, were the scars that decorated every revealed part of the hierarch’s flesh. They were a testament to his battle experience, and proved far more than any fancy assortment of armaments ever could. This wouldn’t be so bad if I wasn’t so rusty, Samir sighed, casually lifting his right hand to the muscles that connected his neck to his right shoulder. Throwing the weight of his head to the left, a loud series of pops echoed throughout the arena before he straightened his head again.

“I think it’s time to fight, old man,” the challenger finished, massaging the muscles in his neck for a moment before allowing the hand to fall back down to his slouching side.

[Bloodrose]

"I think you're right." Teric responded coolly. Like Samir across from him, the veteran quickly but subtly examined his new foe. Normally a warrior would have considered the obviously unarmed and unarmored zombie a boon of an opponent - an easy victory - but experience prevented the grizzled warrior from making that assumption. To many times in the past had Teric been burned by the various tricks, magical or otherwise, that different breeds of undead often possessed.

He's certainly very talkative for a zombie. The old warrior pondered. He'd seen enough zombies, vampires, and more recently ghouls to at least peg Samir as the first of the three. Generally zombies aren't smart enough to carry on like that. Which means he's no ordinary shambling corpse...

The though wasn't exactly a confidence booster, but Teric was still fairly sure that he held a distinctive upper-hand over his challenger. The biggest disadvantage for Samir, excluding his lack of any real weapon or armor, was that he would have to play his cards early in the battle if he had any hope of winning. He would have to reveal his secrets and his tricks, assuming he had any, just to stay alive...or rather...animated...

And on the other hand I can hold my tricks in reserve, and rely at first on my sword arm. Teric allowed himself a flicker of a smile as he advanced straight towards Samir...

"Allow me to put you back in your grave." Teric quipped as he lunged forward the last few meters and swung his sword. It was a simple right-to-left horizontal strike aimed at the zombie's left arm, but quick enough that the challenger would have to think fast to get out of the way.

[Jehu]

“Allow me to put you back in your grave,” Teric finished, lunging forward. His right arm raised a slender blade behind it, clearly ready to swipe.

Samir almost chuckled at the enemy’s self-confidence; there were several meters between them, and charging such a distance was by no means an instantaneous task, especially for an elderly man so covered in steel – while the metal did offer protection, it also slowed its aged bearer down. The Undead, however, knew very well that his youth and immensely light armor granted him high mobility and speed, Alright old man, let’s see how quick you are.

By the time Teric’s blade had begun its elegant arc, Samir had already begun his surprisingly quick counter. Taking note of the sword’s projection, the agile Undead tumbled forward, head first, in a circular motion. Samir’s forehead buried itself in the snow, his hands following suit and his feet lifting in the air to move along with the motion of the rest of his body. He was already a quarter of the way through his somersault when the tip of the weapon flew over his arched back.

Continuing to show the speed that his usual laziness had hidden, the Undead combatant finished his flip as the horizontal strike’s momentum ceased, the short sword and the arm that bore it stretched all the way to its wielder’s left side. The instant the bottoms of Samir’s feet replanted them in the snow was the instant that they thrust upward, their position only an inch or two away from the enemy.

The Undead’s body rose from the somersault at an incredible speed, his form engaging into three different moves at once: the first was his pale body pressing forward against Teric’s, the enemy’s sword arm stuck in the middle; the next was his left hand reaching around to the foe’s back, prepared to complete a sandwiching maneuver; the final was his boney right knee, striking upwards with an amazing swiftness that was headed straight for the old warrior’s family jewels.

[Bloodrose]

Protect yourself! Like most men would be, Teric was immediately overcome by an intense desire not to be struck in the groin. A very natural reaction, as anyone with dangling anatomy will inform you. Warnings scream through your nervous system, red flags go up in the back of your mind, and your body literally jerks responsively on its own to prevent the impending disaster. Such was the response that forced Teric to slam his free shield arm down on Samir's knee, intercepting the blow to the beautiful melody of bone striking the Eklan buckler edge.

"You know," Teric taunted chidingly, shifting his feet in the snow, "just because your 'twig an berries' are dead doesn't mean you need to go aiming for mine." Samir was dangerously close, so Teric didn't have to raise his voice very high for the challenger to hear him. In addition to their risky proximity to each other, Teric became almost sickeningly aware of just how badly the zombie smelled. The cloying odor of corpse-rot wafting off the re-animate's robes was nauseating, and the phrase 'stinks like death' took on a more poignant meaning for the old warrior...

Being pressed so closely against Samir wasn't something the veteran relished, and he had the sinking feeling that the zombie knew it. He was far too clever really, for a zombie, evading and at the same time getting in close enough to render Teric's sword virtually useless. Someone put a real effort into raising his bones. A disembodied voice commented dryly in the back of Teric's mind, even as he briefly contemplated how to untangle himself. He could more sense, rather than feel, Samir's arm snaking around behind him, and the weight of the dead man pushing forward to keep his arm pinned was obvious.

Mindful of the deep snow around his ankles, Teric fell back a step before the zombie could get both feet planted firmly enough to continue pressing forward. Samir's lone arm wasn't enough to keep the veteran hugged close to the undead's body, so stepping back freed Teric's swordarm enough to bring the appendage across his chest in a backhand motion. Trailing behind his arm like a dangerous barb was Thorn, and Teric hoped to cut open a nice gash across his challenger's chest as he brought his appendage back to its proper side of the body...

[Jehu]

He’s fast for an old man, the Undead’s mind raced, his right leg planting itself into the ground after just being knocked away. The enemy’s counter had been quick, almost immediate – his sword had already begun a second horizontal slash, going back the way it came at chest height. Samir’s left arm was still positioned nearly at his opponent’s back, and their bodies were only separated by about an arm’s length, compacting the available space for the blade’s swing by a great deal – and he would use that distance to his advantage.

Samir leapt closer, rapidly throwing his right elbow directly into the trajectory of the foe’s attack. A million messages screamed forth from his mind, sending little impulses of the same command to every bone and tooth in his body: Harden. The moment they were received was the moment they were obeyed, every body part in question solidifying with iron-strength instantly. When the edge finally struck the newly-strengthened elbow it released a clang, snipping through the bone’s surrounding flesh but barely denting the structure itself – it was a perfect block, protecting every muscle and ligament in the arm.

The weapon bouncing away, Samir lunged forward and attempted to place his left palm on Teric’s forehead and his right palm on Teric’s left shoulder, his elbow still protruding outwards in case it needed to move to block another strike. The Undead’s forward momentum, in combination with his bodyweight, now increased dramatically by his new bone make-up, slammed towards the old man. The slippery snow beneath the two did not possess nearly enough fraction to keep Teric’s feet planted on the ground should the body slam be taken directly, potentially allowing him to fall backwards to the ground with the assaulting zombie on top of his chest.

As Samir fell down upon his enemy, he prepared to push the enemy’s forehead back with his left hand to further expose the man’s fleshy neck. The metallic teeth plunged forward immediately towards the foe’s jugular, his jaws ready to tear out the enemy’s throat.

[Bloodrose]

It can never be simple, can it? Teric reflected as his sword ricocheted sharply off Samir's elbow. His blade was vibrating from the blow, and the stinging sensation in his palm gave Teric the distinct feeling he had struck a metal pole instead of the zombie. There's always some trick. Always something that sets them apart from the rest and mucks up everything...

That sensation alone gave Teric more than enough warning; he needed to get out of the way, and he needed to do it now. A younger Teric, the one who used to wrestle an ox around by his horns, might have stayed put and taken the lunging tackle head on. The older, wiser Teric, however, lived and died these days by the quickness in his feet and his nimble reflexes. Speed, not strength, was his glowing strong point these days...

I'm not playing his game.

Teric twisted his body away from Samir's lunge, spinning away and letting the zombie careen by to land where he may. As his opponent passed, Teric took his open opportunity to back up and put several paces between himself and his opponent. Thus far Samir had been playing to his obvious comfort with an intimately close-ranged battle, and the veteran wasn't about to keep catering to his challenger's wants. You're going to have to try and stay away from him. A voice coached encouragingly. Teric liked to think the voice's name was Experience, but more often than not it was just Common Sense.

"I don't think I've ever seen a zombie made of metal before." Teric called out to Samir, prodding the zombie to speak. Is he entirely made of metal? The veteran was wondering. No, he didn't seem to be earlier, when he tried to pin my sword arm. Maybe it's just his bones?

Whatever it is, Teric decided, readying his shield and sword again, I might need a bigger sword for this.

[Jehu]

Lying face-deep in the snow below, Samir’s slow groan became an inaudible mumble, “Fuggihg affole.” Planting his hands into the white veil, the ghoul steadily pulled his body up to stand on all fours. He shook his head for a moment to allow the snow on his head to fall off. Foolish old man, he contemplated, lazily bringing himself to his feet as his opponent fled to a farther position, He had me totally helpless, and decided to run away… Didn’t want to fight me that close, I s’pose.

Coward.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a zombie made of metal before,” Teric called out, readying his sword and shield once again.

The undead man spoke back with just enough volume for the enemy to hear, “Well, I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a yellah’ bellied old man.” A little smirk tickled Samir’s lips before his mind began analyzing the foe’s stance, Shield raised, sword prepared… There’s no way I can avoid that shield without giving myself away, and even if I do, that blade’ll find itself in my skull awfully quick.

Meh, the lethargic fighter shrugged, Guess I’ll just wing it.

In an instant his demeanor changed, his steady pace becoming one of intense vigor. Charging forward to the aged veteran, Samir wrapped his left hand around his right fist and pulled the appendages back to his right. Still running forward, he kept his eyes on Teric, This is the part where you raise your shield, old man. A swarm of thoughts consumed the charger, and instantly he knew what he was going to do – his consciousness sent a message to every muscle in his body.

Samir could feel boundless strength teeming throughout his every limb, but he did not let it show; he stayed at his same pace, not allowing the foe before him to know of his might-instilling gift. Only a meter or two before the opponent, the attacker made one final musing before commencing,Let’s see how tough that wooden slab is.

Awakening the hidden power in his muscles, the ghoul kicked his body into overdrive. He swung forward with his drawn back fists immediately, throwing what was effectively a ball of metal directly towards Teric’s shield – with his newly imbued strength, such a blow could either shatter the wood or send the defender flying; Samir would happily accept either outcome.

[Bloodrose]

Yellow bellied old man? Teric snorted as the undead rose up once again to carry on with his assault. Zombie's weren't exactly renowned for their ability to stop and ponder strategy in the heat of battle. Once they got rolling they kept coming, relentlessly pressing forward using whatever tools or skills they had at their disposal. They were predictable like that, but also dangerous. The undead kept coming, but they didn't wear down and tire like a man would if they adopted the same tactics. They also aren't renowned for their ability to sling good insults...

Stepping into the swing with shield raised, Teric brought his arm up and into Samir's double-fisted hammer blow, taking the shot center mass on the Eklan defender. At the same time he swung his sword in low behind the shield, aiming to slice the Challenger across the abdomen while his arms were up and busy swinging for the stars. Remember, his bones are like metal! A voice in the back of the veteran's mind reminded him as he flexed his arm and shoulder, bracing for the strike.

Thump! Samir's fists smashed into the solid buckler with the force and weight of a ball mace. There was more power behind the zombie's fists than Teric would have thought, but stepping into the attack mid-swing and bracing fully diffused most of the power. The weight of Samir's hardened skeleton did most of the damage, denting the wood and causing a narrow fissure to split radially from the center to the outside edge.

Despite buckling slightly under the blow, Teric's shield arm held, and he wondered if Samir's soft belly held any of the same tricks his skeleton seemed to possess.

[Jehu]

His makeshift mace crushed into the enemy’s shield, but apparently the man was sturdier than Samir had first believed; the massive force was caught and diffused throughout his firm defensive stance. The moment his attack was blocked was the moment that the old foe launched into his, pushing his shield outwards as he swung his blade horizontally towards Samir’s gut.

Good, the ghoul smiled, Already back up to close range.

Stilling pushing down on the shield with his right fist, the zombie shot his other far out to the left – and it passed right by the sword, as if it had intentionally missed the block. At first the sharp weapon ripped into his flesh as if the tissue was no more than butter, quickly making its way halfway to Samir’s spine. Small tickles of pain whispered to the Undead’s brain, but he didn’t pay attention to them at all; the grin on his face showed anything but panic.

Toughen! his mind commanded, countless impulses shooting to every layer of his skin. The flesh obeyed immediately, Samir’s skin hardening to grayish rock – with its improved durability, the blade that had gouged itself six inches deep in the Undead’s side stopped. His left hand was already moving by the time the sword halted, and without hesitance it wrapped its toughened grip tightly around the exposed blade that had been plunged into him. This was true capability of the Undead; while his muscles and tissue remained alive, his body was powered by necromancy and not the will of his bodily organs.

Samir’s voice became eerily queer as he caught Teric’s eyes with his own, “Tough luck.” Pushing in even harder with his right fist to limit the mobility of the wooden block, the ghoul once again lunged forward with his teeth exposed. His left hand was holding the enemy’s weapon in the sheathe of his stomach, and the enemy would have to give something up awfully fast – whether it was his sword or his throat, Samir didn’t care.

[Bloodrose]

The tricks just keep on coming, don't they? One very annoyed veteran thought; fed up with the multitude of skin and bone hardening cantrips Samir seemed to have concealed within the rotting folds of his robe. The light cane sword lodged deep in the rocklike belly of his zombie opponent was quickly forgotten as Teric brought his foot up and dropped his hand long enough to expertly unsheathe the plynt dagger concealed in his boot. If the warrior had learned anything about the zombie thus far, it was that he pushed his weight around when he got close...

The risen foot stomped back into the snow behind Teric to offset the pressing weight of Samir, who by now was again lunging forward with fangs bared. The weight of the undead's solidified body was impressive, but it would be hard for the bloodthirsty corpse to generate much forward momentum with the Warrior's outstretched shield arm locked between them. He'd be far more dangerous but for his predictability. Teric pondered briefly, reversing his one-handed grip on the dirk as he brought the blade flashing up...

"I wonder just how tough your dead hide is?" Teric asked, pushing back with his shield arm to try and keep the thirsting jaws of his opponent at bay. At the same time the dirk came up under Samir's outstretched neck, aiming to bury its tip in the zombie's throat or jaw. "Obviously not hard enough to impede your movement much..."

[Call me J]

My comments are going to be relatively sparse because of the way this battle was abandoned.

Bloodrose Total Score- 58

• STORY ~ 13/30

Continuity (5) ~ The lack of any concluding effort hurt this, but I really liked the continuity in the introduction.

Setting (5) ~ Interacting with setting will help your score in this category.

Pacing (3) ~ It was either a score of three or an incomplete here. It seemed like you were doing a good job of basic building, but I can’t tell where it was going. As a judge, I can only judge on what was written, not what might have been written had the thread been completed.

• CHARACTER ~ 19/30

Dialogue (6) ~ The big problem with this is you didn’t pull off having your dialogue wasn’t as revealing as it often is in your threads.

Action (7) ~ I really like that you took Samir’s smell into account.

Persona (6) ~ Teric was strong enough here, the thread just didn’t go too far.

• WRITING STYLE ~ 22/30

Mechanics (10) ~ No real problems here. Then again, there wasn’t much of an opportunity to have problems with your mechanics.

Technique (3) ~ The bigger issue here isn’t that your literary devices failed, its that they didn’t exist.

Clarity (9) ~ I had no real problems following this thread.
• Wild Card (4) ~ This thread was somewhat disappointing in how it ended, as in it didn’t. I took a point off for wildcard for that, but not too many points, because it wasn’t your fault.

Jehu Total Score- 42

• STORY ~ 10/30

Continuity (3) ~ Bringing in your reason for coming to the Dajas Pagoda was the only thing that saved you here.

Setting (4) ~ Interact more with the setting.

Pacing (3) ~ See Bloodrose’s comment.

• CHARACTER ~ 15/30

Dialogue (5) ~ Work to make your dialogue more interesting.

Action (5) ~ I didn’t really have any problems, but when I judge this category in battles, I like to see some creativity.

Persona (5) ~ Sometimes playing a zombie can be hard for persona, but it looks like you’re on the right track.

• WRITING STYLE ~ 17/30

Mechanics (8) ~ Be careful about neologizing. For instance, you used the word “inquisition” where you meant “inquiry.” I imagine this occurred because you were looking for a noun form of inquired.

Technique (3) ~ See Bloodrose’s comment.

Clarity (6) ~ Repeating what your fellow writer said at the end of his post in the beginning of yours is just redundant. Avoid it.
• Wild Card (0) ~ For abandoning the battle.

EXP and GP

Bloodrose gains 1313 EXP and 150 GP
Jehu gains 250 EXP

Spoils

Bloodrose gains a shirt that says “I became a Heirarch at the Dajas Pagoda, and all I got for it was battles with giants and zombies.”
Jehu gets a planner to help him remember to keep his commitments.

[Karuka]

EXP/GP added! Bloodrose levels up!