A second venture into the Citadel

[Izvilvin]

((Closed))

For the second time in a week, Izvilvin found himself standing before the Citadel, staring in awe at the high pillars of marble and the few dozen steps leading up to the entrance. The huge structure was smothered between two grand cliffs, reminding the Drow of an old military building in Alerar that he couldn't remember the name of. Arach-something; it wasn't really important.

What was important was that this was Izvilvin's second venture to the Citadel, the first having been unintentional. Three days ago he hadn't the foggiest notion of what the construct was for, but was talked into a battle for his life in a strange sewer system blanketed in darkness. The experience had begun as a horrible romp, and Izvilvin had immediately regretted allowing the monk to talk him into battle, but he walked away from the conflict with a new friend and some new insight. It had been a positive experience.

Hoping to once again gain some knowledge, Izvilvin had returned.

"Hello!" Called a monk as the Drow entered, marveling again at the decorative tapestries that hung from the white walls. "I'm glad to see you've returned to enjoy the Citadel," the human said, using his broken hold over the Drow language.

Izvilvin looked at him in confusion. Was this the same monk he had met three days ago? Humans all looked alike to him, and he'd been hoping that would change in time. "Hail, human," he responded at length. "I've come for another 'matchup', as you call it. This time, if it's possible, I'd like to set the arena."

The monk nodded and smiled. "Of course! Come with me and we'll discuss it."

The Citadel was far less busy than during his first visit, when Izvilvin had laid eyes upon many warriors of all sizes, races and gender. All types of people seemed to gather in the Citadel, regardless of how the region of Corone as a whole considered them. As a Drow, Izvilvin took comfort in feeling accepted here. Funny how a structure dedicated to war was more accommodating to him than a multicultural city. What was so bad about Drow when compared to vampires or Goblinkin, of which Radasanth had many?

Were his people really so badly reputed?

Izvilvin snapped from his thoughts to see the monk staring intently at him, awaiting an answer to some proposed question. When the human saw he had not heard, it was asked again. "Do you have any specifications on what you want in this arena?"

Izvilvin smiled. He certainly did.

***

The sewers, which Izvilvin had done battle in the first time he'd used the Citadel, were rank and putrid. It was easily the hardest time his sense of smell ever had while in battle. He'd first thought that all Citadel arenas were the same, so the idea that many warriors came simply to battle in the sewers confused him. His ignorance was mended after his first battle, however, and now he was excited to be choosing his own battleground.

Truly the power of the Citadel was marvelous, for Izvilvin now stood at the bottom of a lake, yet was perfectly dry. The idea had come to him suddenly, and it had been silly enough to put a grin on his face, but he wanted to test the Citadel monks. They had come through beautifully.

His feet were planted against the bottom of the lake, but it was like typical land dirt, completely dry. Izvilvin was standing in the center of a large round clearing in the middle of the lake, as the water around the clearing flowed upward toward the sky. It was as if some mighty wizard had created the effect to trap him there, yet in truth it was all the work of the Citadel monks.

It impressed him immensely, to see the water falling upward and leaving space for him to roam. Curiosity bade him to approach the edge of the clearing and stick a hand into the 'wall'. His ebony fingers passed right through into the surrounding water, and he could feel the pressure pushing against his arm. The surface of the water hurt a little as it ran against his exposed skin, but beyond the skin of the water, it was calm.

It was intriguing. It was incredible. Once again, Izvilvin was beyond impressed.

The sun shone brightly down through a cloudless sky and into the large clearing, which was about thirty feet in circumference. Needless to say, that amount of room would make for a close-quarters battle, exactly what Izvilvin was comfortable with.

A look of childlike excitement covered his face for a moment, as the Drow drew two of his five sai, one in each hand. He had left his mask with the monks, anticipating an exciting battle where he would need to gulp air at every free moment.

It was exactly what he was hoping for.

[Vampiric Angel]

Anenfel breathed deep the morning air. The fresh, crisp feeling it left always made the half-elf smile. What a beautiful thing, nature. This was the first morning he had actually awoken to since he left Scara Brae almost two weeks before. They had found a small grove in which nature truly shone. His pale green eyes glanced about the forest. The pair were greeted with birds chirping and flying lazily on the breeze. A goose and her ducklings swimming carelessly on the pond a few feet away. The half-elf could even hear chipmunks rustling in the leaves, searching for acorns in the tree next to him.

He looked up to the cloudless sky through the open canopy. Although it was morning, the sky still held the vibrance of day. Anenfel's pale green orbs flowed along the edge of the canopy, following every curve. That's when he saw it. Like an iron spike the structure stood out against the trees. It was surrounded by two cliffs. He had never seen a more intriguing building. The half-elf felt a pull to it, like someone had tied a rope around him and began tugging. A breeze began to blow from the direction of the large spire.

Anenfel looked down to Larissa, who slept silently wrapped in the half-elf's bright red scarf. He wouldn't be gone long, he thought. While moving his light brown hair out of his eyes, the half-elf started for the structure.

* * * *

Anenfel's eyes widened as he stepped out of the woods. The building was still a few hundred yards away, yet it still seemed to tower over him. Even from the distance, the half-elf could make out the intricate designs that traveled up the structure's columns. Whoever built it took great care to show that this was their masterpiece. He made his way across the open plain that lead to the entrance of the structure. Anenfel sighed deeply when he looked at the number of stairs he would have to climb. Upon reaching the top and continuing on to the wide doors, Anenfel prepared himself for what he would find inside.

"What is this place?" He asked himself. The walls were white, a shade he had never seen in a building before. Though the colorful tapestries that adorned the high walls definately made up for it.

"Welcome, my friend," the monk said in the smooth language of the elves, "to the Citadel!" His arms were wide, a large grin on his face. "This is the place where many adventurers come to test their skills against one another."

Anenfel stood stunned looking at the monk. He was surprised by the human's mastery of the elven language. "You speak Elvish?"

The monk's arms slowly went to his sides as he cupped his hands. He always thought being a bit more theatrical would help, but apparently not. When he looked back to the half-elf standing in front him, he quickly remembered himself and replied. "Yes, we are schooled in many of the more civilized languages of Althanas. Yet, I could never seem to wrap my mind around the dwarven tongue," he said with a smile. "Which is why I am so relieved that most of the dwarves that participate here speak Common." He chuckled slightly, but when the half-elf didn't join him he quickly stopped.

"So," the monk continued with a clap, "how may I be of service?"

Anenfel, trying to absorb everything that was just laid out for him, replied, "This is a place to duel?"

A small smirk slid onto the monk's face. "Yes, it is. Are you interested in participating?"

The offer was definately alluring, the half-elf thought. He had always wondered how he would fair against another trained opponent. But what of Larissa? He couldn't just leave her slumbering in the forest. The Gods only know what could happen. "I don't know."

"You don't have to worry about being injured," the monk assured him. "We have clerics on hand after every battle to tend to your wounds...if in fact, you sustained any during battle."

Why not, the half-elf thought to himself, Larissa could take care of herself.

Anenfel nodded to monk. "But it must be a challenge."

The monk smiled. "I have just the one." He walked over to the half-elf slowly. Rubbing his hands together, he stood behind Anenfel and placed a hand over his eyes. The half-elf began to protest but the monk shushed him. "Close your eyes and do not open them until you feel the prescence of my hand leave your skin."

Anenfel closed his eyes. Slowly a bright light began to burn into his eyelids. It was blinding, almost as if the light was going through his eyelids. Suddenly the light stopped, the hand covering his eyes vanished and all he could hear was the rushing of water. Slowly he opened himself to his surroundings. A wall of water surround him that went into the air and back to the lake on the outside. The land he was standing on was dry and there seemed to be no way out.

He felt a prescence. Quickly the half-elf turned to meet his opponent. His hair was white and his skin dark. Anenfel stood taller than the drow, but not by much. His lavender eyes kept a steady gaze on him. The drow stood silent with a weapon in each hand.

The half-elf steeled himself as he grabbed the hilt of Dawntracker, and the sound of the sword scraping against it's scabbard echoed in the open air.

[Izvilvin]

Izvilvin did not have to wait long before a bright light spawned before him, painful enough to make him cringe back, blocking his eyes with his arm. The Drow blinked and peered over his own ebony skin to lay eyes upon another man, who had evidently appeared within this light. He was pale and green-eyed, with shining brown hair that framed his face. Truthfully, Izvilvin thought he was almost elflike in appearance, and a strange feeling came over him, the recognition that elves were cursed and wickedly hated back in Alerar. That aspect of his childhood was one he never truly understood, but in his training, facts like the universal hatred between drow and elf had been hammered deep into his mind. Obviously, some of those feelings were still rooted in him.

Izvilvin crouched low as his opponent drew a blade. The sound of rushing water surrounded them, and a steady mist provided by the wind was ever-present.

"Xun dos telanth ussta xanalress, darthirii?" He said melodically, asking the man if he spoke Drow. When a moment of silence passed, Izvilvin confirmed what he'd assumed in the beginning, that no, the elf did not. It seemed that Izvilvin's desire to wish the man good fortune would have to go unheeded.

Izvilvin burst into motion, hair flying back as the wind tussled his loose black shirt and pants. The distance between them was closed quickly by the Drow, who feigned a strike to Anenfel's left side before pulling himself to the left to reveal his true attack, driving the main prong of his sai toward the half-elf's throat from below. He was attempting his favored way of getting a quick kill by tearing the throat out of a victim.

[Vampiric Angel]

Anenfel watched as the drow went into a crouch, years of training emanating from his lithe form. The half-elf eyed his opponents weapons with a curious glance. They were like nothing the half-elf had ever seen. Obviously it would take many years to master them, years that the drow no doubt used. The way he held them - the confidence in his fingers - was proof enough. Anenfel couldn't help a feeling of being outmatched. He was trained with his sword, but the steel weapon still felt foreign in his hand. The half-elf could only grip the hilt tighter and hope for the best. He held it out in front of him with both hands, as his father taught.

Suddenly the drow spoke. The unknown language rolling from his tongue. It sounded like a question, yet what the question was the half-elf didn't know. Anenfel stood silent and ready in his stance. If he were to survive this, he would have to hold strong to his father's teachings.

The drow burst into action with amazing speed. Let your enemy make the first move. Closing the gap between them, the dark elf made to strike. The first attack is never a true one, wait for the second. The drow shifted his weight and lunged at Anenfel's throat.

The half-elf sidestepped the lunge, his father's words coursing through him. When your enemy is left open...strike! With an awkaward swing, Anenfel sent Dawntracker sweeping towards the drow's midsection.

[Izvilvin]

Izvilvin shouldn't have been surprised that the ruse had been detected, really. The Citadel was filled with seasoned warriors and talented upcomers alike, and a member of either of those two groups could see through a deceptive feint. If the half-elf was any bit a capable warrior he would be countering now, so the Drow put all his weight forward and used the momentum from his attack to surge forward and dive. Sure enough, Dawntracker passed harmlessly through the air where Izvilvin had just been.

The Drow, for all the balance and grace lended to him by his lithe body, could not land on his feet. He turned as he fell, landing on one shoulder and rolling onto the other, doing a combination of a somersault and a cartwheel to land on all fours. He'd stopped only a few inches from the wall of water, could feel the cool mist splash him.

Immediately, the sai from Izvilvin's left hand was sent tumbling end over end at the half-elf, aimed at no particular part of his body. The nimble fingers at the end of Izvilvin's hand plucked another sai from his belt, and he was up again quickly.

The warrior tried the same approach, charging quickly, but this time he did not try to mislead his opponent with fake attacks. Now the Drow would rely on pure skill, slashing high at the half-elf's neck with one sai, then stepping away from his sword arm to stab at his ribs with the other.

[Vampiric Angel]

The drow was fast. Very fast. With wide eyes the half-elf saw the weapon hurling towards him. For one moment his limbs went stiff with surprise. For the other moment, letting his instincts take over, the half-elf spun away from the weapon. It whistled past, and Anenfel heard its iron clang as it banged against the wall of water on the other side.

Never turn your back to your opponent! His father's scold rang in his mind as he turned back to face the drow. The half-elf remembered why that lesson was important as a weapon lunged for his throat yet again. Continuing with the momentum from his spin, he parried the weapon aside just in time to see another stabbing at his ribs. He jumped backward from the attack and gasped in pain as it sliced along his side.

He looked down at the wound as a small line of blood slowly began trickle down his armor. The half-elf thanked the gods that the weapon did not go deeper, and was grateful for that brief moment of protection. Although, the killing blow was - in no small part - thwarted due to his hardened leather armor. He shuddered at the thought of fighting the drow without it.

A painful fire was set ablaze in his side. This was his first true wound as a wayfarer, and he slightly grimaced at the fact that there would be more. There are many pains to be felt while on the field of battle. It is how one deals with that pain that separates the man from the warrior. The half-elf clenched his teeth and bore away the pain.

With a gaze that held a cold fury and adrenaline pumping through his veins, Anenfel lunged forward aiming at the drow's heart.

[Izvilvin]

Izvilvin was relentless in his attack, as was the way a drow warrior was taught while still a young elf in Alerar. To grant the opponent a moment of respite was a grave mistake fighters often made, as that slight hesitation could leave him open for counterattack. Izvilvin had this knowledge in his mind as he struck his hit. He did not pause to revel in the strike, but instead was willing to continue to press.

He came forward yet again, but Anenfel was lunging to meet him. The strike caught the Drow off guard, as he hadn't been expecting such a quick rebuttal from the elflike opponent. Izvilvin put all focus on avoiding the long sword, bending his body away from the blade and abandoning his attack at the same time, making some space between himself and his counterpart and nearly falling to the ground.

Izvilvin managed to avoid the attack completely, but his intention of staying in close range and quickly shredding Anenfel had been thwarted. Instead they were a few feet apart again. It frustrated the Drow warrior, who gripped his weapons as tightly as he could, whitening his black knuckles about as much as was possible.

One sai was dripping blood onto the brown soil at his feet, painting the battlefield with the first splashes of crimson oil. Had he been paying attention to that sort of thing, Izvilvin would have reflected upon the nature of war, and how it could ruin such a beautiful, magical scene such as this arena.

But he was not, and thus did not consider the ugliness of it. All he felt was the adrenaline of battle, the beating sun as it pounded his white head of hair, and the forced hatred of his opponent. Izvilvin had to force himself to hate the half-elf, lest he fight with less intensity. To do such a thing would be suicide in a situation such as this, and he knew it.

The warrior didn't want to charge again. Anenfel had better reach with his weapon, and Izvilvin was too used to fighting someone he'd gotten the drop on to face a sword-wielder head on. The last attack from the brown haired man had shown him that.

And yet he did charge forward, to face that very weakness and attune himself to it. This was, after all, the sort of challenge Izvilvin had come to the Citadel for in the first place. He wanted to better his skills, hone his craft and become a great warrior, whether or not he had the advantage.

He came in low, trying to be a small target if Anenfel tried to interrupt his charge with an attack. He turned on a dime and went left, to try and throw off his target, then suddenly turned again to charge head-on. He only struck once this time, using his left sai to slash at the half-elf's right thigh, which as far as the Drow could see, was unarmored.

His other sai was poised by his hip, ready to parry a counterattack, should Anenfel harness the skill to use one under the circumstances. Izvilvin did not want to be caught off guard again. He had learned that relentless attack did not mean a counterattack was impossible.

[Vampiric Angel]

As his heart pounded in his chest, Anenfel forced his breathing to steady. His mind raced with the possibilities of the struggle. Battles are not to be thought of as a mindless ballet of brutal movements. They are fought on many levels. It is a competition of wills, a meeting of minds, a flurry of emotion and a chance to use your skills in order to overcome your opponent. You must have the deepest focus, the clearest mind. Never forget that. The half-elf stood completely still as the gaze on his drow opponent quickly turned to a blank stare.

He felt his heart slow, his chest relax. In his mind he conjured the images of empty meadows, a gust of wind rustling the blades of grass, a silent hand brushing through them.

The steel sword in his grasp seemed distant, the blazing pain in his side became non-existant, and all the world became motionless. Never had he felt such serenity, such comfort in an uncomfortable world. The soothing sound of the wind calmed his muscles and left him with a sensation of relaxation he had never felt before.

In the blink of an eye, it vanished. The half-elf was standing in front of his drow opponent, Dawntracker at the ready in front of him, cutting the image of the dark elf in half. The drow burst into motion. Like a black spider he stayed low to the ground, swiftly making his way closer to the half-elf.

With an unnatural agility and grace, the drow broke from his head-on approach, heading to Anenfel's right side. But just as quickly he snapped back and corrected himself as he made for the half-elf. The sudden movements in direction threw Anenfel off-balance, but he did not panic.

The struggle between two combatants is a game of deception. One that we all must play in order to survive the trials that our opponents set for us. The drow closed in, his deadly sai gleaming in the sunlight. A blur of motion and iron sent Anenfel to one knee, the gash in his thigh spilling forth his scarlet life force.

Anger-ridden eyes casted upon the drow as the half-elf sent Dawntracker sweeping towards him with his right hand. With his left he reached into his leather boots, his dextrous fingers wrapping themselves around his dagger.

The drow parried the counterattack wide, sending Anenfel's right arm and Dawntracker soaring away. Just as the half-elf had hoped. Flowing with the momentum from the parry, Anenfel made himself look as natural as possible, hoping his drow opponent was oblivious to the dagger plunging towards his exsposed pelvis.

((Bunnying Approved))

[Izvilvin]

Izvilvin didn't take a second to celebrate the successful attack as it brought Anenfel down. He simply didn't have time. The half-elf's sword came up quickly to fend him off, but the Drow's ready sai caught the heavy blade between two prongs and drove it wide, opening his opponent up for a crippling blow. Or so he'd hoped.

He turned slightly with the parry, a necessary move to push Anenfel's sword far enough to the side. But Izvilvin had become too dedicated to his coming attack, and wasn't wise to the half-elf's deceptive drawing of the dagger. He was made rudely aware of the strike as the steel plunged into his side, driving away any thought he had to attack.

The pain was incredible and sudden, but Izvilvin kept the presence of mind to turn and sweep his sai, to try and put a gash across Anenfel's face and fend him off. Continuing the spin, Izvilvin stepped away to make room between the two.

He groaned as his hand went to the wound. It was deep, but in a place where it would only be irritating and painful, not dangerous. He supposed it was fortunate, but being hit at all in the first place had frustrated him. The Drow, trained to be a capable warrior and an observant threat, had foolishly let himself get overconfident.

Looking up from the wound, Izvilvin's lavender eyes took in Anenfel again, taking another measure of the man as the upward-running waters provided a backdrop. The blood on that dagger was his, and watching it drip from the steel put a strange feeling in Izvilvin.

He came on strong again. The Drow plunged forward with one sai, trying to dip past the half-elf's defences to put his weapon into the man's belly. The second weapon came close behind, stabbing in the same manner, but a bit higher, going for Anenfel's chest.

[Vampiric Angel]

The half-elf rolled back away from the sai aiming for his face. He struggled to his feet, the gash in his right leg making it difficult to move. He placed all his weight on his left leg in hopes of easing some of the pain. As quickly as he could, while his drow opponent observed his own damage, Anenfel pulled out an old rag and quickly tied it around the gash. Hopefully the rag would act as a tourniquet and slow the bleeding. The half-elf was no expert in first aid, but that would have to suffice.

Although it costed him another blow, Anenfel found some small measure of gratification in the fact that his deceptive plan had worked. If it was worth the additional pain, the half-elf did not know, but he would soon find out. The drow was more than a worthy opponent, and yet the dark elf's skill was superior, the half-elf seemed to be holding his own.

Assuming a stance that the half-elf had not used in over a decade, he slighty bent his knees and held his weapons readily at his sides. In Anenfel's right hand, Dawntracker gleamed in the sun, holding a soft incandescent blue hue from the surrounding wall of water. The fine steel almost worked as a mirror, reflecting the colors of it's surroundings. In his left was the complete opposite. The dagger was stained with rich red blood, tiny droplets of the liquid falling onto the brown earth below.

The repetitive sound reminded Anenfel of a clock, the second hand looming closer to the end of each minute. Before the half-elf's mind could go into deeper thought, the drow closed in for an attack. The wound in the dark elf's side did not seem to deter him, whether it was a facade or not, the half-elf silently scolded himself.

Anenfel parried one sai with Dawntracker as it rocketed for his stomach. He stepped back with his right leg while bringing his dagger across to deflect the other sai that came for his chest. As hot spikes ran up his leg, he quickly lost focus. The dagger had made contact with the drow's deadly weapon, but it was not enough to move it out of harm's way.

The attack was safely diverted from becoming a killing blow, yet it still managed to drive deep into the half-elf's right shoulder. A growl came from his upturned lips as he looked into his opponent's lavender eyes. The eyes of his enemy. The half-elf quickly stabbed at the drow's stomach with his blood-stained dagger, only to be met with open air. The dark elf had jumped back from the attack, roughly removing his sai from Anenfel's shoulder.

The drow's agility was quickly becoming an annoyance, the half-elf realized. Another fact that he had realized was that all this time, the drow had been controlling his actions. Forcing him to move and block according to the dark elf's agenda, never giving him the oppurtunity for an open advantage. He might have stabbed the dark beast, but that was purely on luck.

Not anymore. The half-elf was done with being a puppet to his drow opponent's actions. He would no longer sit by and let himself be defeated. If his opponent wanted to claim victory, he would have to pry it from the half-elf's cold, dead fingers. Rushing after the drow a split second after his jump, Anenfel closed in. Taking Dawntracker firmly in his right hand, the half-elf sent his weapon sweeping diagonally up towards the drow's torso.

((Bunnying Approved))

[Izvilvin]

Long ago, Izvilvin had been rigorously trained to deal with pain. It was one of the truly cruel aspects of his training in Alerar, where an instructor would put a knife in his back and push it deeper and deeper until he collapsed. The memory didn't come back to him at this moment, but the effects of the training were showing themselves now, as he was able to endure the gash in his side without so much as a bit of discomfort.

Anenfel's strike was unexpected under the circumstances, but Izvilvin was just fast enough as he hopped back to avoid injury. Faster than the Drow expected, the half-elf came at him, deciding to take the offensive rather than trying to endure the warrior's constant attack. It was a good idea. One couldn't win a battle by hanging back and dealing with whatever came at them, after all.

Anenfel's strike was good, and there was too much force behind it for Izvilvin to hope to block it with his short weapons. It was a split-second decision that nearly cost him an ear, but the Drow was able to avoid the upward strike by leaning far to his left, aggravating his wound with the stretch. The sword swooshed up and missed him by an inch, severing some of his white hair.

The Drow did not allow the dangerously close attack to hinder him for even a moment, as he got close enough to his opponent to eliminate the threat of the sword. The man glowed oddly in the blue light offered by the surrounding water, especially from this close up, but Izvilvin couldn't dwell on the effect. Stabbing quick and hard, Izvilvin threw one hand after another at the half-elf's gut, two quick strikes designed to gut him and end this bout decisively.

[Vampiric Angel]

Angrily, Anenfel watched as the drow evaded yet another one of his attacks. Though, this time the steel sword took a bit of white hair in the attack. The half-elf noticed the drow's decrease in speed, and was more than willing to exploit it. But before he had the chance, the lithe dark elf came in close with his deadly sai lunging for his stomach. Utilizing the reflexes gifted to him by his ancestors, Anenfel dropped his weapons, and reached out for the drow's wrists.

Taking them in his firm grip, the half-elf twisted them outwards and around his sides. The wound in his shoulder burned as he pulled the drow with all his might. Using the momentum, Anenfel pulled the dark elf towards him into a strong headbutt.

Anenfel let go of the drow as he stumbled back a few steps. The half-elf retrieved his weapons as his opponent stood stunned less than a yard away. He gripped the bloodied dagger in his right hand, his finger's safely holding the blade. With deadly accuracy, the half-elf threw the dagger at the drow, aimed for his stomach.

Placing his sword back where it belonged, Anenfel closed the gap between the two. Whether the dagger failed or not, the half-elf's blade was aimed for his drow opponent's neck.

((Bunnying Approved))

[Izvilvin]

((Bunnying approved))

Not only did Anenfel's pull take advantage of Izvilvin's momentum, but the drive of the half-elf's head coming against the Drow's advance was a perfect way to counter his approach. It was a great move, and one Izvilvin couldn't have possibly dodged. He managed to brace himself for impact, but that did little to stifle the impact of the crushing headbutt, which smashed his nose and nearly dislodged some teeth.

The dark elf stumbled back, his face bloody the instant impact was made. He struggled to get his bearings, but all he could do was step backward in an awkward attempt to stay on his feet. It took all of Izvilvin's great willpower to hold desperately on to his weapons, but hold he did.

Izvilvin couldn't hope to mount any serious defense against the thrown dagger, but even through blurred eyes he was able to recognize the cocking motion of Anenfel's arm. He threw his arms up to try and block it, but that only succeeded in allowing the dagger to hit his forearm rather than his stomach. The dagger fell to the ground after slashing a new wound into the dark flesh of the warrior.

Teeth clenched, Izvilvin had to growl loudly to fight off the pain, his adreneline helping him to work past the wounds and fight on. After all, this was nothing compared to the Cell, where he had endured a lost eye. Anenfel came at him high with a slash, but Izvilvin was still too dizzy to parry effectively.

Instead, he ducked and put all his weight into his shoulder, picking Anenfel up from the ground with a tackle. Bursting forward, Izvilvin dove through the wall of water and into the aquatic environment of the sea, carrying Anenfel as he went. Salty, foul-tasting water filled his senses, but he had taken a deep breath before entering. Hopefully, Anenfel wasn't as prepared to endure the water.

Blood from his nose drifted up to redden the water in front of his eyes, but Izvilvin didn't let it get to him. Hand on Anenfel's neck, the Drow had abandoned his weapons to the sea so that he could better hold the half-elf underwater. He could only hope the man couldn't last as long as he, as the struggle went on.

[Vampiric Angel]

It seemed to Anenfel that he had gained the upper hand. But to his disbelief, he watched the drow take hit after hit, yet he still had the will to fight on. Although the half-elf was gifted with a strong resilience, Anenfel could not help but be amazed at the drow's show of strength. He could not begin to imagine the amount of training, or the depth of determination one must have to fight and press on as passionately as his drow opponent had.

Which was why he knew the battle would only become more difficult and more dangerous before the victor could be decided.

The half-elf took a small piece of pleasure in the fact that his plan had succeeded, but was genuinely surprised when his opponent retaliated to his attack. Knocking the wind out of him for a split second, Anenfel's grasp loosened around Dawntracker's hilt and it fell to the ground. He never would have expected the drow to take such a bold move, and was even more astonished when he realized the drow had lifted him off the ground.

Barreling towards an unknown destination, the half-elf had to think quickly. He knew his opponent was not going throw him to the ground or he would have already. The only logical path the drow could be taking would be to...Before he could finish his thought, he felt the mist touch him just before plunging into the wall of water. Thankfully he had felt the mist or he never would have been able to take a breath. Although the half-elf knew that it was not enough to sustain him for long.

He cringed slightly as the salt in the water stung his wounds. The pain in his side returned, the sting in his thigh resurfaced, and the torture deepened as the pain is his shoulder intensified. The water around the two combatants began to take on a red hue as the blood from both warriors mixed with the cold water. The blood's only effect on the half-elf, aside from the pain of it leaving his body, was that it obscured his vision.

Anenfel felt the drow's hand wrap around his neck, holding a firmer grip upon him. The half-elf's time was precious, his amount of oxygen was dwindling. It had become a battle of wills and Anenfel feared he was lacking.

[Izvilvin]

The struggle was intense as the two tumbled underwater. The sun beat down through the aqua blue to shine on the warriors, but neither of them looked any more pleasant because of it. Bubbles flowed up from Izvilvin's mouth as he growled into the water, squeezing his hand as hard as he could around his opponent's throat, staying as far away from the half-elf as possible at the same time. He didn't want Anenfel to use the same tactic on him.

It didn't last long. Izvilvin was beginning to get short of breath when he saw Anenfel's eyes waver. The half-elf's limbs were moving slower, and before long, he seemed to stop moving altogether. Under different circumstances, the Drow would have made sure his opponent was dead, but if he waited any longer, he too would pass out.

So he released the man and quickly swam back toward the clearing at the bottom of the lake. It was easy to see, for the upward-flowing water formed a strange kind of lighting effect. He burst from the water and fell to the ground, landing on his side and rolling to his back, swallowing gulps of air in an attempt to restore his strength.

It seemed that he had won, that he had successfully drowned Anenfel in the lake's water, but Izvilvin was not quite certain yet. He didn't know the Citadel well, but he was sure that if he had indeed won, he would be transported back to the real world. Until that happened, Izvilvin wasn't prepared to be lax.

He was drained and exhausted, but the Drow pulled himself to his feet anyway, and waited.

((I had to take some liberties because you left off where I did, and I had nothing to work with. So you can be faking death, or actually be dead, or you can PM me to have me edit my post.))

[Vampiric Angel]

Time seemed nonexistant in that small gap of seconds. He could feel himself weakening, losing control. His vision blurred, more so than what effect the water had on him. His gazed lifted upwards, towards the light. In tiny spires it shone down on him, the rippling effects of the water making those tiny spires dance. It was so beautiful. And it was there, waiting for him. He grew weaker, his thoughts were fewer and farther apart. His eyes began to cross as the eyelids of both slowly closed. In the last moments of his life, one voice rang clear in his mind.

I am proud of you, son.

* * * *

Anenfel sprang to life gasping for air and clutching his chest. He didn't understand. It was foggy, but the last thing he remembered was being surrounded by water, still in the duel with his drow opponent. He looked at his hands and noticed they were a deathly color. He felt his face and it seemed as if ice ran through his veins. He looked around the room frantically.

He noticed a mirror on the other side of the room, adjacent to a window. He quickly rose from the soft linen bed he was lying in to come face to face with a corpse. Or at least the image of a corpse. The half-elf was looking at himself, his skin an irregular shade of bluish-gray. And with a fearful gaze he watched his complexion slowly go back to normal. He felt his face once more and no longer was there cold, but heat. He didn't know how, but knew he had evaded death. Or brought back from its clutch.

"Ah, you're awake." The monk said as he entered the room. Anenfel gave him a strange look as he slowly bowed. "Welcome back to the world of the living."

"What happened?" Anenfel questioned. There was a slight pause and the monk looked at him like he should know the answer to that question.

"You died." The monk plainly stated. "Or did my last comment not make that clear?"

The half-elf sensed sarcasm in the monk's voice, maybe even condescension. But he figured now was not the time to pick a fight with the man that saved his life. So he bit his lip and just nodded.

"Come," the monk said, his hand waving outwards towards the open door, "he awaits your arrival in the main chamber." He began to walk away when Anenfel interrupted him.

"Who?" Anenfel dared to ask.

The monk once again gave him a condescending look. Upon realizing the half-elf was serious, he responed, "Your former opponent." He turned and started in the direction of the main chamber. Anenfel took a deep breath and followed.

[Izvilvin]

A moment passed where all Izvilvin was aware of was the steady drip of water from his body. The grip of his own clothing on his body made him feel enclosed and heavy. The sun still shone upon him however, and that provided some measure of comfort.

Even more than the warmth, however, the lack of movement from his opponent relieved him. Izvilvin was tired and hurting, and anxious to get back to the level of comfort he was accustomed to. It was beginning to become apparent to him that he had won. It was sloppy and crude, but he had won.

A light enveloped him, so quickly that he could barely percieve it, and suddenly he was upon a bed in a room of marble walls in the Citadel. A pair of monks were in front of him, smiling as they chanted some strange words and held out their hands toward him. Izvilvin could feel the pain in his body floating away as his wounds were closed. He felt rejuvinated, not only in body but in spirit. The battle had done good for him.

"How did your battle go?" Asked one of the monks. A quick look at him reminded Izvilvin that he'd met him earlier, at the entrance.

The Drow gave a slight smile. "It went well. I feel as if I have experienced something unique. Part of me feels more relaxed, now that I have some more confidence."

The monk looked as if he was going to continue talking, but Izvilvin interrupted him before he could. "I want to meet my opponent," he said, his native tongue a raspy, yet melodic dialect. "He and I must do something before we can be on our way."

Hesitantly, the monk looked to his counterpart. It was clear by the gaze they shared that the idea of two competitors meeting after battle was not a good one, considering the struggle they had just endured against one another. It could lead to a fight outside of the safety of the arenas, where someone could be seriously injured, or even worse. The Citadel had a reputation to uphold.

The human looked back. From his perspective, there was something simply enchanting about the Drow. No, that was the wrong word. He was more disarming, the monk supposed. Izvilvin's calm, confident gaze and slack way of keeping his hands against the bed suggested that he was a laid back man, who would not hold a grudge against an opponent in a battle simulation.

It was an impression he shouldn't have acted on, really, but the monk decided to allow the dark elf his desired meeting. "All right, come along."

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The main chamber of the Citadel was decorated with tapestries and candles, but was otherwise dark. The sun shone through the entranceway, but was a long stretch of hall away, so only a sliver of the sunshine made it into this circular room. Izvilvin stood in the middle as the monk headed off to retrieve his opponent, then looked intently at Anenfel as he was led into the area.

Of course, they did not speak the same language, but Izvilvin hadn't had all too difficult a time letting his sentiments be known since his departure from Alerar. "Izvilvin," he said, pointing to himself and then extending his hand for the half-elf to take. The Drow, now outside of the heat of battle, no longer considered that he should treat the man any different simply because he bore elflike traits. That was the way of lesser Drow, those so blinded by the rage of their fathers that they avoiding common sense.

[Vampiric Angel]

The monk slowly lead him on, understanding the half-elf's weakness. The pain was natural, and like the awkard numbness in his limbs, it would fade. Yet, it is much more difficult to ease a victim's pain when that victim was brought back so close to the brink. The half-elf's wounds were fully healed, true, but the pain they inflicted had not yet subsided. So, with a wince and a gasp, he slowly trugded on.

It was not until he entered the main chamber that he began to notice his surroundings. The walls were marble and, like the exterior of the Citadel, intricately designed. The chamber was dark, to Anenfel's relief, for his eyes hadn't truly adjusted to the light. Candles littered the large wooden tables that, in turn, were placed all throughout the chamber. So, it was dark, but not overly so.

The half-elf once again followed the monk, carefully placing each step to avoid the most pain. While focusing his attention on his foot placement, the half-elf didn't realize the drow standing in front of him. After being stopped by the monk helping him walk, his gaze shifted from his feet to the feet in from of him. His gaze slowly followed the shape of the body. Once following the shape long enough, he stop on the person's midsection, to a quintet of sai clasped on a leather belt.

The half-elf swallowed hard when he saw the weapons. He knew who it was standing before him and hoped nothing bad would come from their meeting. For he knew that, without Dawntracker at his side, he would be found lacking if another fight broke out.

Wishing silently he glanced up the rest of the way. His pale green eyes met with the drow's lavender orbs, locked in a stare. The orbs did not hold rage or retribution, but that of silent contentment, maybe even compassion. The drow pointed to himslef - with a slight flinch from Anenfel - and said, "Izvilvin."

The half-elf knew not what the word meant, but judging from the body language the drow had incorporated, it seemed to be his name. Then the drow outstretched his hand looking for compensation. The wayfarer looked at the hand hesitantly at first, not knowing if it was another deception on the drow's part. The image of the dark elf roughly grabbing him and gutting him there on the spot popped into his mind.

He looked back at the drow's waiting gaze, once again seeing no trace of anger in his eyes. Weighing the risks in his mind, the half-elf's own hand went out to meet the drow's. After they shook hands, he followed suit and pointed to his chest saying, "Anenfel." Whether friendship could be born from their meeting was hard to see.

Only time would tell.

[Izvilvin]

Izvilvin could sense the hesitation on Anenfel's side of things. It made sense, of course, given what they'd just been through. He wondered briefly if wanting to meet the man was a bad idea, but put the thought aside as the half-elf took his hand and shook it firmly. The man introduced himself, and the two men stood before each other for a moment, as Izvilvin tooked stoicly at his opponent and the monk that stood beside him. The warrior was satisfied, perhaps even more than that.

So it was with a light heart and a rejuvinated spirit that Izvilvin left the chamber, feet clicking lightly against the slick floor of the Citadel. He rounded a corner and disappeared outside, leaving Anenfel and the monk beside him to stand alone in the chamber of candles.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" Said the monk, not quite asking the question, but actually declaring the answer with his tone. He, too, had sensed the slight nervousness on Anenfel's part.

A breeze struck Izvilvin when he exited the immense structure. The outside greeted him with warm sunlight and the strong scent of afternoon pollen. The fight had not gone on as long as he'd thought, and that only bolstered him. There was still an entire day to experience, and feeling as good as he was, Izvilvin was expecting it to be a good one.

[Vampiric Angel]

Izvilvin slowly walked off after a few moments of the stare between the two. Before the dark elf had walk off, Anenfel could see the satisfaction in the drow's lavender orbs set in his otherwise stoic face. A fitting offset of the two that gave the drow a pleasant demeanor. The half-elf watched with admiration the drow faded into the distance. He hoped they would meet again. And when that day would come, the would be a force to be reckoned with. A flurry of blades that would cut across the face of Althanas.

The half-elf merely laughed at the monk's rhetoric question, and walked out into the sun, the breeze, and the awaiting trees.

* * * *

The fairy sat up from her scarlet bed, yawning and smiling from a long-awaited sleep. "That was splendid!" she exclaimed, while her gaze wandered about the empty grove. There was no answer and from the deathly silence, she feared for the worst. She quickly sputtered about, leaving the red scarf laying absently on the cool grass. Panic filled her and she nearly fainted from the short and labored breaths.

"Anenfel?" She called out, "Anenfel!" Turning quickly in every direction she finally rested her gaze upon a moving shadow in the forest. The being's path meandered with the limbs of the trees, letting them guide it through to safety. Out from the darkness the half-elf walked, a smile laid broad on his face.

"Good morning, Larissa." Anenfel greeted her warmly, but after taking another glance up to the sky and the placement of the sun, he quickly corrected himself. "Good afternoon."

"Good afternoon, indeed!" Larissa said sarcastically, "Where have you been Anenfel Saendithas?!" The half-elf winced from the use of his full name, the indicator that told him that the fairy was furious with him.

But he just dismissed the harshness of the question with a disarming smile, he seemed to be good at that, and said, "You wouldn't believe me if I told you." He wished he could tell her, but in his mind he knew she would disapprove of the new friendship with a drow elf. If not out of her 'motherly instincts', then out of blind prejudice.

Anenfel knew better. He knew the drow was not evil, far from it, and he knew that the elf could be trusted. It was in his eyes laid out plainly for all to see. That must be why prejudice is blind, Anenfel thought, for where they see an evil backstabbing drow, the half-elf saw a friend. And that was an encouraging thought.

[Osato]

A Second Venture into the Citadel


Current Mood: Busy, busy, busy
Current Music: Atreyu, a lot of songs



Izvilvin

~~Introduction~~
5
You have an interesting character with Izvilvin; I enjoy what I’ve read of him from the past. However, your second venture into the citadel was not as elaborate as your first. I was not given too much background information on the little drow, though his relation with the monk gave the obvious illusion that he was at least a little known there.


~~Setting~~
5
Done well enough, interesting arena, but a certain depth was left absent that would have made the entire setting more profound and realistic. Try and add some more to the setting, just as you do your character, and the score’s will be much better here.

When you went into the water, salt water as you described it, did it not burn? You had open wounds and were visibly bloody, I am sure that salt added to that would be nearly unbearable. Also, were your eyes closed when you went into the water? I live by the beach, and if you are not used to the water it stings like all hell when you open your eyes underwater… it even hurts when they are closed.


~~Writing Style~~
6
Try not to use synonyms for things like blood unless they make sense or somehow fit well with the character or setting. Other than that just little mistakes here and there.


~~Character~~
6
Your character’s most profound aspect is expressed through the drow hostility that he expresses in battle. You did well to express this with your blatantly open attacks and rushes against your opponent. I was very pleased so see


~~Dialogue~~
5
You really did not have any dialogue except for the very beginning and the very end. It was well written, at the least.


~~Strategy~~
6
You have an interestingly brutal strategy that is perfectly suited to your character. I am glad that you did not abandon that strategy at any point, even allowing it to be the flaw that caught you with your first wound.


~~Rising Action~~
6
Both of you were about equal with your rising action. I was impressed that you continued the assault, and glad that you did. I think that it helped a lot with the overall feel of the thread.


~~Climax~~
5
The climax, I believe, was when you both struck the water. At that point it was your physical exertion against his, and a battle of wills. It was at that point that you both displayed your inner resolve, and I was glad that you played it so well. You stayed in character when you supposed the opponent had died, and I am pleased to see that you were quite worn after the conflict.


~~Conclusion~~
6
Well done. I enjoyed that you held no hatred towards the half-elf after the fight, and used it solely as a means to keep up the intensity. Hopefully these comments were helpful and you got something out of the fight. Well done.


~~Wild Card~~
6

Score
56



Vampiric Angel

~~Introduction~~
5
Who is Larissa? Without telling me, or me checking your profile, I would have not known from the first post… though you wrote about her twice. Other questions answered would also help a bit. You do not have to load your opening post with an epilogue like history, but a reason why you are on Corone, why you went to the Citadel, and who Anenfel really is would help a little more.


~~Setting~~
6
A bit confusing, unfortunately. The Citadel is a large building supposedly within the high walls of the bustling city of Radasanth. However, person freedom allows you to put it wherever you want, I suppose, and no points were taken away. This is more for your personal knowledge later on and in future role playing endeavors.

You did a little better when you struck the water, allowing the wounds to sting and your sight to be hindered. That was what would happen if you went into the sea with open wounds.


~~Writing Style~~
5
Only little errors here and there with your wording, other than that I suggest reading over and listening to the way the sentences flow. Make sure they sound well thought out and put together.


~~Character~~
5
I, unfortunately, did not get a lot of character out of you. I saw that you were rather disciplined due to the constant reminders of your father’s words in the back of your mind. However, other than that, your tactics were not necessarily a clear attribute to your character, and your dialogue was not necessarily one either. Work on how you attack, what you think, and how it affects your outlook on the current situation that you are dealing with.


~~Dialogue~~
6
Inner dialogue is what I saw mostly from you. Just to remind you, try and make your dialogue original. The thoughts that I got from your character, outside of your father’s advice, were somewhat more like quotes that you would find on an inspirational poster. Keep it original and somewhat reminiscent of your character, which all your dialogue should accent to a degree.


~~Strategy~~
5
The remembering of your father’s words to guide the opening of the conflict was well done, though it was somewhat choppy. If you are going to use dialogue as part of your strategy make sure they flow well. Another thing, in a battle the best strategy is not necessarily a stout defense. At times it can be a good offensive blow that ends the attack. I was very glad to see you rush forward in the 10th post and take charge, for I was worried that the brutally outgoing drow tactics were going to push you around.


~~Rising Action~~
6
From the beginning the rising action was bubbling and pulsing throughout the thread. I cannot choose a specific point that was truly greater than another, and therefore think that both of you did very well. When you began the offensive and somewhat cut off Izvilvin’s offensive attacks was one of the milestones of the rising action.


~~Climax~~
5
The climax, I believe, was the point when you both were tossed into the water. When that happened you both seemed to give into the inevitable. You played it realistically, knowing that you probably were not as strong in resolve as your opponent. It is always good to see weakness exhibited; otherwise it would be a battle of powergaming that would turn to a mess.


~~Conclusion~~
6
Very interesting bit for your conclusion with the fairy’s “blind prejudice”. I was not expecting that, but it helped me understand the characters a little more. I am hoping that you also got something out of the fight. Well done.


~~Wild Card~~
6

Score
55


Rewards!
Izvilvin 1200 exp and 30 gold
Vampiric Angel 400 exp and 30 gold


Well done both of you. I knew it was going to be very close towards the end, but I never guessed how close. I am always open for further comments if you do not believe I did well enough. You can also contact me with any further questions or concerns via AIM or PM’s at any time. I would be happy to assist either of you whenever I can.