Shake the Rust of Death(Open Challenge at The Zirnden)

[NDX]

~Scara Brae~

The bustling streets made the large man cringe. It had been centuries since he had seen such business booming, and even back then it was not so much to him. Standing nearly seven feet tall, however, and out-weighing the average man by over a hundred pounds, Lord Viktor Serfaret was able to shoulder people out of his way. The familiar clank of his armor, accompanied by the low screech of rusty spots, was drowned out by the tumultuous din of the crowd.

The journey here had been a long one, spanning centuries back in time. He and his elder brother, Coin, were the heirs of a wealthy noble family. Upon their father's death, Coin inherited the mining and lumber business. House Serfaret, remarkably, was a chief supplier to many, many other clans in surrounding areas, making them a valuable asset. However, things began slipping through the cracks as Coin took the reins of the business. With no knowledge of how things were run, he made mistakes...and those mistakes ended up costing the brothers everything.

It all happened in one night. The sky erupted in flame, heralding the coming of oblivion. The clans who lost out due to Coin's mistakes saught payment for their losses...payment that they would only receive in blood. The clans swept throughout the estate, murdering anyone they came across. Viktor happened to be standing at the gates to the inner courtyard when he spotted the first signs. His axes leapt to life in his hands, singing songs of battle and bloodshed...but numbers were something to be reckoned with, and they nearly laid him low. In an attempt to warn his brother of the massacre, the tower of a man was pinned beneath an unforgiving portcullis. Rage and sorrow took over then, granting the large man the strength to rip his body free of that which would have killed lesser men in an instant. His brother had to be warned! Powerful arms dragged him a great distance...but not great enough. Found by the attackers, he was executed on the spot, his magical full-plate armor stripped from his body.

...And Coin's fate was no less gruesome.

Ghosts they soon became, doomed to haunt their ruined mansion for eternity and beyond. Vastly powerful in life, death had only made them stronger...but despite that power, they could do little to affect the material world. As time progressed, Viktor's emotions faded, leaving a grim man in its wake. Only his anger, sorrow, and the love for his brother remained to shine through that trying ordeal.

Viktor and Coin, restless and full of hatred and desire for revenge, created a dread pact. They both shed their immense power, in exchange for some semblance of the lives they once had led. And forth they traveled, seeking the vengeance they so rightly deserved. Their journies brought them to the capital of Scara Brae, the birthplace of adventure. Here, in the maelstrom of activity, the two hoped to begin their search for the power they once had...and more. To exact their revenge, they would need to rise beyond comprehension.

And so, the immense warrior, Viktor, found himself shoving people aside as his eyes darted this way and that for something that might catch his eye. It was then that a sign drew his unfaultering attention. Stopping in mid-stride, hand clasped atop a man's head, he spied a sign that read 'The Zirnden.' Removing his hand from the irritated man's cranium, he reached two of his massive fingers up to brush the stark white, shoulder-length hair from his eyes. Stoney visage, as always, Viktor set out to get to this fight club. Such a place would be perfect for the martial-minded berserker to pick a fight or two to shake the rust from his death-weary muscles...though some of the people that he had shoved in the crowd would argue that he was still quite strong.

As the door burst open, the behemoth man's form was silhouetted against the daytime hustle and bustle outside. The spiked, full-plate armor that he had picked from the remains of the Serfaret family mansion creaked and rattled as he strode in, his mane of white hair, scraggly and less than cared-for, wafted behind him. His pale skin was nearly as light as his hair, made to look even more disturbing by the white stubble that plagued his upper lip, chin, and jaw. Steely, ice-blue eyes pierced those of the worker at the counter as he approached. As the solid warrior came to a stop, he spoke in a low, raspy tone.

"I want to issue an open challenge. Fist fight. No armor. No weapons. Any and all takers."

As he spoke, one of his large hands fell to the belt pouch at his side, drawing forth fifty gold pieces which he slapped down on the counter.

"That's the minimum bet. Make it happen."

((As the title states, this thread is an open challenge. Anyone who wants to fight Viktor Serfaret is welcome.))

[Quentin]

A voice said "I want to issue an open challenge. Fist fight. No armor. No weapons. Any and all takers."Quentin walked up to the person that said that and said "Ill take up that offer."Quentin then started taking off his chestplate.When he got it off anyone could see the muscles he got from exercising with his broad sword and other exercises.He then unstrapped his broad sword from his side."So who am i fighting."Quentin said.

[NDX]

Following suit, Viktor began to disassemble his own armor, taking the bulky full-plate off piece-by-tedious-piece. Each seperate article of the suit clattered to the floor as the large man let them fall from his body. He towered over the man that accepted his challenge by over half a foot, outweighing his challenger by at least a hundred pounds. Viktor removed the shirt he always wore under his armor, revealing the tight, mammoth muscles of his torso and arms, rippling with even the slightest of motions.

"You'll be fighting me, Viktor Serfaret...but first, I'll have your gold on the counter. Minimum bet is fifty, but I'll be more than happy to take more than that from you."

Viktor then extended both of his hands up, placing the left atop his own head and setting the right on his chin. With a slight motion, he cracked his neck, echoing forth a disturbing chorus of snaps and pops. He then pulled one single strap on his belt, sending his twin axes plummeting to the floor where the landed with a muffle thud. Now wearing only a pair of black breeches, a black leather belt, and black leather boots, the freakishly pale skin of the undead berserker was more than apparent. As he stalked off toward the arena, he began basic stretches with his arms, making even more of the creepy snapping sounds...his body was definately odd...no mortal being could ever build up so much stiffness. And to simply stretch out such stiffness would be excruciating. What the hell was this guy? Viktor Serfaret didn't even wince after he reached the arena and began systematically popping each joint back into ready condition.

Between each joint, he would throw a dangerous look back over to the challenger at the counter, waiting for the man to place his bet on the table and get to the arena. Viktor needed a good fight to shake off this rust, and he rather hoped Quentin could give him that...and an extra fifty gold.

[Quentin]

Quentin he put the fifty gold on the counter and walked to the arena and did some stretchs.He then said "So do we wait for a bell or what big boy."Qunetin got ready for any attacks high or low.He then said under his breath "The bigger they are.The harder they fall."Quentin then did a couple of jabs to warm his arms up for the fight.

[NDX]

Viktor took one more opportunity to size up his opponent, who had begun a series of stretches and shadow-boxing moves to limber up for the battle to come. If the undead lord could have possibly mustered a smile from somewhere within his bitter, cold heart, it would have been a scrutinizing one at best.

"Begin whenever you're ready to lose your consciousness and your money."

The massive warrior turned slightly to his right, never taking his eye off of Quentin. Expertly, he extended his left foot toward his opponent, bending at his right knee and raising his solid, rippling arms to guard chest and face. Straight-faced and completely grim, the pale knight motioned young Quentin on, taunting the challenger to begin the combat.

[Quentin]

Quentin nodded when he heard the answer from the giant man. He then motioned for Quentin to come and attack. Quentin then smiled and ran forward then threw a left jab towards the giant man's head. If it was blocked he would knee him in the stomach. He would then retreat to block the attacks of the giant man or at least dodge them. Quentin then said "By the way my name is Quentin Dragonblade."

[NDX]

The benefit to his readied stance, as opposed to the hurried rush of Quentin's attack, was the ability to assess and quickly react to the very predictable jab that rushed forth from the limb of his opponent. Quite deftly for a man his size, Viktor merely back-stepped slightly, throwing the less experienced fighter off-balance. The overextension of the punch was his downfall. In a blur of movement Viktor grabbed Quentin's left forearm with his own left hand, pulling the challenger even further off-balance, while simultaneously launching his left knee upward toward the smaller man's diaphragm.

Such a crushing blow would surely knock the wind out of young Quentin, but Viktor would not let that stop things. If the knee struck, the predictable response would be for the younger man to double over, clutching his abdominal region in pain. At that precise moment, the pale knight would rain a vicious elbow down between the shoulder blades of the smaller fighter.

"Say 'I yield' when you've had enough. Wouldn't want you to endure the same fate as I, now would we?"

[Quentin]

Quentin gasped then accessed his situation.He could tire the big man out the go all out on him or he could yield.Quentin the jumped up and got as far away as he could from big guy.Quentin waited for the right moment to do the most complex move he could do.The spinning backflip.Quentin then smiled and taunted the giant man.

[NDX]

Viktor only shook his head in some semblence of amazement...if he could even feel such a thing anymore. Long ago, in the cold reaches of his past as ghost, haunting the decaying ruins of his family mansion, he was stripped of most all of his emotions. Now, straight-faced, he regarded this taunting youth. So much the youngster had to learn, and Viktor would teach him...not for the sake of being a mentor, but for the sake of his own benefit. After so much time without physical activity, his cold, senseless body needed a good stretch and workout. The large man grunted in something akin to approval at Quentin's ability to take a beating.

"Be careful who you taunt, for it may be the last person you see."

The words were spoken in a low rasp, a deep foreboding dripping from each letter and falling to fill the space between them. Viktor's mind worked efficiently, picking apart his enemy's strategy piece by piece, coming finally to the conclusion that young Quentin had a surprise in store for the big man...and sometimes the only way to wipe the smug smile off of a cocky man's face was to take the bait, but have a trap of your own in store.

In the big man charged, cold eyes leading the way, blanketing his path in sheer ice and tension that paved its way directly to Quentin, smirking, and ready to launch into his spinning backflip maneuver. Viktor was much akin to a steam engine: Not so quick to get moving, but very difficult to stop when going full-tilt. This was the impression the younger of the two got as the larger bolted in. Cocky, Quentin launched into his spinning backflip with a graceful fluidity...but, was stricken with dismay when his kick met no solid object.

Viktor had come to a screeching halt, instead extending his own leg, which was far longer than young Quentin's, by virtue of his own height. The massive straight-kick would catch the challenger in mid-flip, most likely boring right into his back, between the shoulder blades...that is, unless the youngster was nimble enough to somehow dodge in mid-air. Highly unlikely. The undead warrior was, indeed, more seasoned; knowing to use his size to his advantage in a battle.

[Quentin]

Quentin saw that the guy was less as flexible as him.Quentin jumped up in the air to complete the spinning backflip.Quentin then stopped in half way in air then started spinning really fast then went straight towards his face.Quentin was spinning so fast the older guy had only seconds to stop him even though it would cause some damage for both of them.If it connected he would throw a punch has hard as he can into th older guys throat annd if it blocked he would use the older mans arms as his own weapon.Quentin then said "I never got your name."

[NDX]

The surprising maneuver on Quentin's part was something of a mystery to Viktor at first...but it soon became apparent that there was, indeed, a way to avoid this tactic. Still in mid-kick, the giant amongst men simply threw his weight backward, throwing his extended leg upward into the spin-diving smaller man. Invariably, the attack would send Quentin flying, and Viktor quickly jumped to his feet afterwards.

"Let us end this. I grow bored of fighting you."

Viktor again fell into his combat stance, muscles tense. He was quite the imposing figure, chiseled and mountainous. His deathly pale skin only aided in making him scary. Now, his white hair draped all about his face, neck, and shoulders; messed up from the combat...though it had never been very well cared for. The martial-minded Viktor really didn't care. All he cared about right now was the battle. He paid unerring attention to every movement Quentin made, ready for anything.

[Quentin]

Quentin went flying after the kick connected into his stomach.Quentin saw his opponent go back into his fighting stance.Quentin walked up to his opponent and started throwing everything he had at at him.Quentin then threw a punch straight towards his opponents throat.Followed by his other fist goinging towards his family jewels.If one of those connected with its target he would ask him to yeild if he didn't he brig him down to his knees ad rip out his throat.

[NDX]

It was a flurry, the smaller man at him once again, tenacious and persistent. You could say there was something to be admired in that...either that, or it was just plain foolish. Viktor, the larger man he was, resorted more to blocking punches than avoiding them, but he also dodged his fair share. He was a trained warrior, after all. The two danced on in a quick-step of pain, Viktor content to simply take all the punishment his opponent could dish out to him. Even though a few minor punches were landed, it was nothing to shake the giant man.

Quentin was obviously getting angry. The sheer mannerisms of the big man must have been getting to him, as well as the frustrating reversal of nearly every move he had thrown so far. Viktor played along, pretending to be put back on his heels. Honestly, he didn't have to pretend too hard, but he could have stopped this rush had he wanted to. No, he would let young Quentin tire himself out.

And then it came, the all-too-noticeable climax to the long chain of exchanged blows. A double punch, one high and one low. Throat and groin were the target areas, and to avoid such a devastating attack, the large man could think of two conceivable maneuvers. He tossed them quickly in his mind as the fists hurtled toward him, then decided to play things a little bit more dangerously. Deftly, his left hand shot upward to divert the punch to his throat, while his right knee came upward to block the downstairs cheap-shot. Simultaneously, the big man pushed inward, launching a devastating elbow, targeted at Quentin's throat. In mid-move, the smaller one would be hard-pressed to fully avoid damage here.

[Quentin]

Quentin saw that his punches were being blocked every time he threw a punch he saw an elbow going straight for his throat.Quentin smiled and ducked and jumped on the big man throwing punches everywhere.He did what exactly what he said he wouldn't do anymore.

His eyes clouded over and he went in a rage punching,kicking,and spitting everywhere.If quentin got hit he probaly wouldn't notice it.He saw that his opponent had a weakness.Quentin threw a punch as hard as he could straight for his opponents face.If he connected he would break his hand and his opponents nose and jaw.If he was deflected he would break his hand and his opponents deflector.

[NDX]

This was beginning to irritate the pale knight. In a fist fight, it was easy to get angry, but the large man found himself lacking any sort of emotion here. He simply couldn't let his rage out...if he could have, surely young Quenting would have been thwarted swiftly and soundly. However, it was not to be. The youngster was relentless, powerful combos echoing forth from his body that average men could never hope to perform. All the large man did was raise his arms to cover his face...a broken arm was better than a shattered visage, after all. Such power with a single punch was rather astounding, really.

Blow after blow fell upon the larger of the two, dropping him finally to his knees. It was then that the final punch came sailing in, colliding with his defense in an explosion of pain. Quentin winced and gripped his own fist, for he had broken his hand, as predicted. A fracture in Viktor's forearm also formed, though could be healed easily enough. With his good hand, however, the youngster kept attacking, enswathed in a blanket of rage and malice. Now with only one arm to block the punches, the undead warrior found himself in more pain than he had hoped for...though still, his rage wouldn't come. Were his emotions truly dead?

All hope leaving him, Viktor Serfaret spoke.

"I yield."

[Quentin]

ic:
Quentin grabbed his hand in pain and heard the larger man yield.He grabbed the larger mans hand and said "I never got your name sir.And you put up a good fight."Quentin waited for the larger man to answer.Quentin hand started getting purple and fatter.Quentin then shook his opponents hand.

Quentin the walked over to his stuff and strapped on his breast plate hand his broad sword.Quentin then collasped in pain.He then trew up what was left of his food.

ooc:
What should we do now after you post.

[NDX]

IC: "Viktor."

The large man, offered his opponents hand for an honorable battle, denied. As Quentin extended his hand to him for a shake, Viktor merely stood and walked to his armor. Holding his arm, the pale knight began to piece his full-plate armor together on his chiseled body yet again. Grabbing his axes, the warrior left The Zirnden, calm as can be. What was happening? In centuries past, he could have snatched young Quentin by the throat and ripped the boy in half...he needed revenge to attain his true power, and he knew this now. His family's killers would pay dearly, that much he vowed to himself as he walked down the street, holding his fractured arm high above the crowd as he attempted yet again to shoulder his way down the street.

The day was still quite young, his skin looking like chalky stone in the sun's rays. So many people around him, too busy to notice that an undead knight walked in their midsts. Sure, some saw him as creepy and avoided him, but there was no fear. No respect. Viktor needed closure to let his spirit rest easily...his killers would all pay a thousand times over.

((OOC: I'm submitting it for judging.))

[Osato]

This will be my first judgment for a battle, so bare with me while I look over it and learn. If there are any problems that you see just PM me or IM me and I’ll look over them for you.

NDX

{Introduction} 6
Wonderful exposition, you allowed the reader to know who and where you came from. It also gave good insight into why you may be in Scara Brae.

{Writing Style} 5
You have a good style, but sketchy at times. I have little doubt that if you were given more to work then you would be able to shine more. My only suggestion is to add to the setting, which you almost completely ignored.

{Setting} 3
You did not give any setting other then common names, such as Scara Brae or The Zirnden.

{Character} 4
You gave a little bit of your character through the description of him. Beyond that I don’t know much about him. You are a dead guy, cold and angry, but why do you fight?

{Dialogue} 4
Try not to speak just for the sake of speaking. Mid-attack is not exactly the proper time to start taunting your opponent or speaking in general. Unless, of course, you can describe why your character is doing as he does.

{Strategy} 1
You cannot grab his forearm and pull him to you without his consent. Without his consent it is considered bunnying and powergaming. For that I must dock your score.

{Rising Action} 2
There was really no rising action beyond the flurry of punches. There was no emotion behind it, or any depth to it.

{Climax} 2
Extremely bland, sudden, and yet necessary.

{Conclusion} 1
Very weak conclusion.

{Wild Card} 4
Like the character, sorry that it did not turn out better.

Score 32



Quentin

{Introduction} 2
You need to look at what your opponent posted and try and copy it, basically. You did not give me a background of your character, why he was in Scara Brae, what he looked like, his name, ect… As a reader I want to know all of that. Not only should you give a little background, but also why you are where you are. Don’t be afraid to describe the setting either.

{Writing Style} 3
When you write put spaces, single or double, between the end of one sentence and the beginning of another. You do not have to repeat what the previous person wrote, just how you respond to it. When you start a new thought you separate it with a new paragraph. Example: In your first post you should have started a new paragraph after you quoted NDX and before you “walked up to the person”.

{Setting} 1
You did not give any setting, at all.

{Character} 1
I really have no clue who Quentin is, why he does what he does, where he came from… nothing. Except for your dialogue I really have nothing about your character.

{Dialogue} 3
Your dialogue was cliché and forced. When you write dialogue for your character try and write what would come naturally to your character. Sometimes it is harder to do that, of course, but it takes some practice.

{Strategy} 1
You also powergamed. Bounding away from NDX when you were mid-strike means that you moved away from him, but also completely ignored his attack. Be cautious in the future about how you were attacked and how you are going to respond. Despite his powergaming you do not need to respond with powergaming.

It was also a form of powergaming that you, mid flight, began spinning around. Not only is it physically impossible, but the movement was far beyond improbable.

{Rising Action} 2
There was really no rising action beyond the flurry of punches. There was no emotion behind it, or any depth to it.

{Climax} 2
Extremely bland, sudden, and yet necessary.

{Conclusion} 0
You did not give me a conclusion.

{Wild Card} 4
Just for the hell of it.

Score 19


Rewards
{NDX} --- 425 exp
{Quentin}--- 100 exp

[Zieg dil' Tulfried]

EXP added!