Fight with the Drunken Master...

[Bloodrose]

Temporarily Closed. See here (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?p=140093).

Disheveled, unkempt, mangy - these were the words that hung on the lips of onlookers as the old man dragged himself up the Citadel steps. His hair, unwashed for days and uncut for several weeks, was as wild as the survivalist beard hiding his chin and neck. Great, purple bags hung low under the man's eyes, heralding his exhaustion and telling anyone who looked into those wild blue eyes that this was a man who hadn't slept well in days. His shirt was stained with blotchy brown ale-spots, his breeches littered with crumbs, and his ensemble as a whole smelled downright foul...

Teric Barton was an absolute wreck.

A three day bender through the city's opium dens - smoking, drinking, and venting his frustrations in the beds of women of questionable character - had culminated in the mercenary coming-to in an alley not far from here. Filthy, hung-over, and still a little hazy from the opiates, Teric had actually been surprised to find his belongings still on his person. After a feat such as the one just endured - a feat not repeated since the days of his foolish youth - the veteran wouldn't have been surprised to find himself robbed and naked. He wouldn't have been surprised, and to be perfectly frank, he probably wouldn't have given a damn either.

A fight!

That was the singular thought burning in Teric's mind now as he reached the plateau at the top of the steps and staggered into the main hall where monks waited to greet entering combatants. His strides were heavy and uneven - the footfalls of his iron-shod boots on the stone floor echoing sharply off the vaulted ceiling. His left hand was empty, but in his right Teric clutched the hilt of his mythril sword, disrespectfully dragging the tip along the ground behind him as he moved forward. A couple of the monks would be sure to recognize him, Teric "Bloodrose", Grandmaster of the Dajas Pagoda. They would whisper behind his back, pondering how this proud man could have fallen so far. Teric didn't give a damn about his image, or about the whispers exchanged between bald-headed monks. He cared only about the wretched knot that had settled in his gut days ago. He'd consumed enough alcohol to drown a man. He'd smoked enough opium to break a man's sanity and leave him drooling on the floor speaking in tongues. Even the act of spilling his seed in the bellies of a half dozen whores hadn't been enough to loosen that knot and give the mercenary a moment's rest.

Here was a man teetering on the razor's edge of his sanity. Fifty-two years he'd been wandering the face of Althanas - fighting, killing, and stealing; and for what? A bag of gold here? An heirloom or trinket there? Fifty... two... years... and all Teric had to show for his life was a satchel bag full of gold and the clothes on his back. No family, no friends, no home, no purpose - these were the things a mercenary had to show for his long and illustrious career.

Fighting is all I know - all I have...

That realization had been the impetus behind his three day war against himself. That knot in his gut, Teric knew, was simply the empty void left barren inside him by all the opportunities he'd passed on to get where he was now. By all rights Teric Barton should have died in that alleyway less than an hour ago - and perhaps his attempts at throwing himself into oblivion had been meant to end in just such an outcome.

Teric staggered right past the monks, completely oblivious to their half-hearted attempts to stop him. The veteran made for the first open door and literally threw himself through it, crashing face first onto the cold, smooth floor of his arena. They said the Citadel's magical stadiums were conjured into life by the first combatant to enter them, and in that case, Teric's arena was truly fitting. Cold, grey, and empty; the seemingly endless plane of uninterrupted solid ground was an outward expression of the void eating away at the insides the prone mercenary. The hard, cool floor felt good on his fevered brow, and Teric deigned that he would stay there until someone came to pick a fight with him...

[BlackAndBlueEyes]

Sundays were always uneventful for me. I would wake up with a hangover of a varying degree, depending on how much I drank the night before. My little bookstore was closed on those days, and despite my best efforts of painting the business hours on the front window, I'd still hear the occasional rattle of a locked iron handle or the pounding of flesh and bone on the heavy oak door. I'd spend the dragging daylight hours holed up in my second-floor apartment, pouring through volumes of literature that dealt with magic and chemistry. I had a couple of notebooks full of hastily-scribbled notes and experiments that I planned on trying one day.

But today was kind of different. I was starting to go stir crazy, sitting in my lonely apartment and dicking around with spells and concoctions. I felt the urge to go out and stretch my legs and get some real air in my system.

The afternoon air was calm, if not a bit on the chilly side. People were still scurrying around the markets that littered the streets; housewives hunting down ingredients for a last-minute meal, rough-looking men browsing the inventories of smiths, and merchants trying to sell useless junk and elaborate clothing to anyone who even passed them a quick glance. "Excuse me, ma'am! Your life isn't complete until you own this fur jacket imported from Salvar! Or perhaps you'd be better off with this perfume made in Raiaera?" I would walk past them every time, ignoring their cries and pleas for money that I frankly didn't have (opening a store is an expensive affair).

After a good amount of aimless wandering, I looked up to see the familiar spires of the famous Citadel. Ah, all the fond memories of being thrown through their portals, only to come out with a hole in my stomach, or my brains splattered against some jagged rock, or my windpipe liberated from my neck... Those were some good times. Well, not really, but they're more enjoyable compared to some of the other stuff I've lived through.

I don't know what came over me. Maybe it was the nostalgia, maybe it was the fact that I was born with a silver dagger in my hand, but I came down with a strange feeling. I was suddenly itching for a fight! Actual physical contact with another human being (or elf, or dwarf, or orc, or what have you) with malicious intent!

Shit, I had nothing better to do.

It took me about twenty minutes to double back to my apartment to grab my daggers and hard leather corset. Once I was prepared, I swiftly made my way over to the hallowed building, much like how a torchlight attracts a moth. The click of my heeled boots against the smooth stone steps was the music of memories. Many times had I stepped foot in the Citadel. One by one, I began recalling all my past battles. That one time I fought that asshole chef and won by a split second's timing. Then there was that one cat girl who I threw down with in that haunted carnival... Yes, the memories of pain and pleasure started flooding my mind.

Two monks pulled open the heavy doors as I approached them. I muttered a polite thanks as I went inside. Everything was as I remembered it: Beautiful stained-glass windows depicting the deities and important figures stretched from the polished floor to the expansive ceiling. Along the walls, an army of doors stood ready, waiting to cast challengers into their magic-created arenas.

A monk approached me. He was a few inches shorter than myself, and had a bit of a rotund figure that was wrapped in the plain robes that all of the Citadelites wore. He asked me in a deep voice, "Is there something I can help you with, ma'am?"

I shot a blank look at him. "Yeah, sorry I'm late. I had a reservation for two at six o' clock. Has my date shown up yet?"

"This isn't a restaurant, ma'am. This is the world famous Citadel, where--"

I cut him off with a wave of a hand. Clearly, a sense of humor wasn't part of the job requirement here. "It was a joke. I already know the drill here. I'll see myself to a door." Leaving the monk behind, my eyes darted from door to door. I made my way to the closest one and yanked it open with a quick tug. A curtain of absolute darkness sat in front of me. I stood there in silent awe for a second before plunging in.

Another thing I liked about the Citadel was that the magic was different from, say, the Dajas Pagoda. You see, the Pagoda used genuine teleportation magic to move me from place to place. The process always left me feeling sick--I'm not sure if it was possible at all, but I honestly think that I'm allergic to teleportation magic. The Citadel, on the other hand, seems to work in a different manner. From what I gather, the door actually leads you into a small room, but magic then shapes that room into another place entirely. As far as I know, my fights that have taken place at that carnival, or the one on top of the stone disk during the middle of the thunder storm... Those all took place right here in the actual Citadel itself. But then again, it's not my place to wonder about these sort of things.

The arena that I was sent to this time was... I'm not sure how to properly describe it. The ground was smooth and gray. The air was a little chilly. Nothing sat in the horizon, no matter which direction I looked. I was in nothing more than a vast expanse of nothingness. I wasn't sure whether I should've felt comforted by or afraid of the lack of anything.

After a few seconds, I turned completely around and noticed that another person was already here. It was a man, face down and seemingly unconscious. A thin, terrible odor of booze and opium wafted from his still form. Great, I finally come back after all this time and I happen to pick the arena that already has a vanquished warrior in it.

"Erhem." I cleared my throat, hoping to get a response from the figure.

[Bloodrose]

The sound of someone forcibly clearing their throat hit Teric like a lightning bolt, jarring the mercenary out of his stupor and bringing him scrambling to his feet with surprising speed and grace. Self-preservation is a powerful force - as is muscle memory - and those two things combined hauled the mercenary to his feet and into a fighting stance regardless of hang-over or drug-induced haziness. The long, white blade of Teric's sword flashed up in an arc as the warrior instinctively took up a defensive stance, his eyes focused and crystal clear as they found his opponent...

"Urrg." Teric groaned audibly, his sword falling back to the ground at his side as the mercenary collapsed to one knee. He'd gotten up off the ground far too quickly, a knee-jerk reaction to a perceived threat that - after all these years - was practically involuntary. With the initial shot of adrenaline fading fast from his blood stream, the hang-over and the sudden movement caught up with the veteran in a rush, causing the blood to drain from his head and the ground to swim beneath him. Black fog crowded in at the corners of the mercenary's vision as the beat of his heart pounded in his temples, and for a moment Teric was afraid he might pass out. Kneeling there, sucking in breath, his blood-pressure slowly caught up, and the fog receded, leaving the veteran light-headed but aware of his surroundings.

"If I were you... I'd 'ave killed me by now." Teric finally managed to comment off-handedly between labored breaths. He was staring at the floor, eyes half-closed to try and stop the ground from moving around beneath him. There was a maddeningly painful headache forming behind his eyes, and his stomach felt as though it wanted to vomit itself inside out, but still Teric was feeling slightly better. There was strength returning to his limbs, if ever so gradually, and after a moment's pause to collect himself, the mercenary finally looked up to properly go over his opponent.

If I were a guessing man, I'd say someone is trying to mock me. Was Teric's conclusion as he gave the girl standing several meters away a once-over. One never knew who they'd end up fighting in the Citadel, but the mercenary had the distinct feeling that the monks were trying to get a rise out of him. He'd stumbled into their domain drunk and confused, and so they'd sent him a waif - a lass barely large enough to wield a proper weapon. Even with a hang-over, the veteran was more than confident that he could break this girl in half with only a modicum of effort.

"Maybe after I kill this one, you'll send me someone who can offer a real fight!" Teric spoke loudly for the benefit of the monks who were undoubtedly listening in, casting his gaze upwards into the blank, grey sky above and angling his chin like a priest speaking to God. At the same time the mercenary almost lazily pulled the knife from his boot and threw it at the waif. It was a poor, half-assed throw, but if his first impression of the girl was correct, it would be more than enough to stick the Ai'Brone's joke right in chest...

[BlackAndBlueEyes]

Hmph. "...I'd 'ave killed me by now." Yeah, about that... I stopped the whole "slinking in the shadows like a coward" gig a while ago. Part of the reason I quit assassination was that I was starting to get reckless when closing in on a target. All that hiding and stealth crap was boring. That, and I might have developed a little sense of honor or something. Y'know, the whole show my face to my opponent and fight honorably bit. It was far more fulfilling knowing that I could kill a man face to face just as well as I could do it with a knife from behind or by slipping poison into their evening drink.

While I'm on the subject of knives, my disheveled opponent blabbed something about the monks sending him a "real" fight, slid a dagger from his boot, and lobbed it in my direction. It was a throw that lacked grace, power, and precision, like one that you'd expect from a beginner. I quickly shifted to the right a couple feet as the blade sailed smoothly past me at chest level. It hit the ground with an unceremonious clang.

I couldn't help but to stare in awe at this guy. How dare he bark about wanting the monks to send him a more worthy opponent, only to half ass an attempt at putting me out of my misery! I mean, yeah, sure, I may not look like much, with my pale complexion and slight frame and all, but... This guy didn't have much more going for him. He looked and smelled like the slums of Radasanth shat him out and left him in the sun a couple of days to rot. His gray hair was matted and he desperately needed a shave. He was quite the stomach-turning sight to behold, and yet he had the audacity to complain about having to fight me?!

I resolved to make this fight a quick one. I reached behind my back for my twin daggers, calling out two small lengths of wire from underneath each sleeve and tethered them to the hilts. I pulled the polished blades from their sheathes and let my arms dangle at my side for a little bit.

I needed a plan of attack. My opponent didn't look like much, but he still probably knew how to swing the sword that sat on the unremarkable gray ground beside him.

I took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly. As much as I hated making the first move in fights, if I let this guy attack first he'd probably stumble and impale himself. Can't let that happen, now can we?

Gripping the daggers tightly, I moved forward; slow at first; just a couple of steps. Then, I broke out into a full run to cover the remaining twenty or so feet between us. My footsteps filled the empty air of this desolate arena. I skidded to a sudden stop just outside of the range of his sword and whipped my arms upwards, releasing both of my daggers in the process. As they flew towards him, I commanded my wires to control their flights. The left dagger continued on towards his open neck, while the right readjusted its path and curved down and around towards his rib cage.

[Bloodrose]

Bunnying approved by BaBE.

The knife he'd thrown flew true enough, but it lacked the power and speed necessary to stick the girl Teric found himself getting involved with. She demonstrated with a graceful sidestep that she at least knew how to get out of the way. On top of that, she reached behind her back and hastened an approach which demonstrated that she knew how to counter quickly and without hesitation.

Maybe this will be slightly entertaining after all. Was the veteran's first thought. His second: Only one reason a person reaches behind their back like that...

Teric used to wear a knife across the small of his back, and when one factored in that the waif was thus far unarmed, it was easy to tell what she was reaching for; daggers. As his opponent's slow strides forward dissolved into a full on charge, Teric grabbed his sword from the ground at his side and made to rise up off his knee. He had to move quickly, and so was a little unsteady, but he managed to stand enough to ready a swing of his sword just as the girl was about to step into range. That swing never came, because the waif stopped just short of sword's-reach and whipped her arms forward with deadly intent.

Had he not stood just as his opponent closed range with him, Teric likely would have found himself with a dagger in his throat. As it was, though, the mercenary's change in elevation saved his life; one dagger took him in the belly, while the other hit him squarely in the chest. They struck with enough force that Teric felt as though he'd been punched, but that's the only sensation they gave him. The two daggers fell harmlessly away from the veteran's torso, clattering to the ground at his feet.

"What?" The waif's surprise was tinged with confusion. A sly smile spread itself across Teric's face as he hooked a finger over the collar of his shirt and pulled the fabric down. Underneath gleamed the white metal links of his Mythril shirt - the one he always wore under his normal clothes.

"You're going to have to try harder than that." Teric taunted. As he spoke, the mercenary stepped forward just enough to bring the girl into his reach while swinging his sword in a wide, vicious arc from his right hip to his left shoulder. The girl may have been able to dodge a thrown knife, but Teric was interested to see how she handled the threat of being flayed open in closer quarters...

[BlackAndBlueEyes]

Holy crap. Sorry it took so long.

The familiar metallic clink of my daggers colliding harmlessly against the old man's mail echoed through the emptiness. This turn of events had taken me by surprise. I should've known that something was going to happen, that battles like this are never as easy as they should be.

I quickly recalled my daggers. The damascus blades made a horrible scraping sound as the wire dragged them across the hard, slate-gray ground. Demonstrating a surprising amount of agility that betrayed his apparent condition, he lunged forward and swung his blade in a wide, diagonal arc. My eyes widened in fear as I tried half step, half leap backwards. My back arched much like a pissed off cat's in an attempt to give myself a little more room.

Things didn't go so well, however. The blade's tip kissed my torso, effortlessly tearing through my shirt and my protective corset. It left a three or four inch cut across my ribcage, a couple inches underneath my right breast. The wound felt like fire; I let out a short, painful whimper as I stumbled back another step. A trickle of dark crimson began to stain my corset. My control over the two wires faltered for a brief second.

C'mon, dammit, it's just a scratch. Get your shit together and kick him in the throat like the dog that he is!

My countless battles at the Dagas Pagoda in Scara Brae had taught me to suck up small injuries like this, but that was years ago. My abilities had deteriorated a little since then. I was out of shape. I had to start coming here more often.

Hey, don't start wallowing, concentrate on the fight! Look, that wide swing of his left about sixteen different openings! Are you going to do something about it?

My fabulous Freebird fighting instinct was right. The old man, in his attack, had left a short window of opportunity open for me. If I wanted to win this fight, I had to act quickly. I quickly pulled my daggers back into my hands as I rushed forward. The cut in my middle screamed, but I tried to ignore it the best I could. Hopefully before my opponent could react, I closed the distance between the two of us and quickly turned to the side to deliver a thrust kick to his teeth.

Unless he had braces made of the same material his mail was, this was probably going to hurt.

[Bloodrose]

Now I'm in trouble. Teric realized as his blade only nicked his nimble opponent. The wide, overreaching nature of his initial attack left the mercenary open and vulnerable to a bevy of counterattacks - a situation that simply begged to be remedied by a quick, backhanded follow-up that would either catch the girl as she closed for the kill or keep her away. It would have been simple to do, of course, if not for that fact that - like standing too quickly - the effort involved in Teric's forward lunge only amplified the sick, dizzying side-effects of his condition. Every muscle in Teric's body turned to jelly, and the veteran's knees wobbled so shakily that it was all he could do to remain standing.

Shmack!

Rather than catch his opponent in the ribs on the backswing with the deft cleave he envisioned, Teric found himself eating a kick instead. The sound the blow made was akin to someone striking a raw side of beef with a hammer, and lights exploded in front of Teric's vision as his eyes rolled back in his head. Already unsteady legs buckled and gave out completely, pitching the warrior over sideways to crash unceremoniously into the ground. There was a long couple of seconds where Teric just lay there in a heap - a broken jumble of limbs - before his eyes rolled back to the front and the Grandmaster regained some measure of consciousness. As the world stopped spinning, and as his vision focused, Teric could see just one thing: his opponent standing over him.

I'm dead. Was the warrior's instinctual reaction. He felt like he'd been worked over by an ox, and he had barely enough strength to roll over and prop himself up on one elbow - let alone try to mount any sort of counterattack or defense. Had the roles been reversed, Teric knew his sword would have already found a resting place in the girl's throat, and as such he expected no better from his opponent. Any second now she would reach down with those knives of her's and slit his throat like a pig gone to butcher...

"I... g-guess you know w-what you're doing." Teric half-choked on the words - thick rivulets of blood spilling over his lip and matting the mangy grey of his beard. He spit, and a big mouthful of crimson splattered across the dreary arena floor. Amongst the mess were two teeth, each standing out in the blood like an iceberg drifting in a red sea. If she was smart, the waif would ignore every word that dripped from his mouth alongside his blood and finish Teric now before he managed to regain any measure of strength. Maybe, though, just maybe the mercenary could buy himself some time by talking.

"What's your name, girl?" Teric asked, hoping to coax forth a reply that didn't come in the form of a knife. "Might be nice to at least know who I have to thank for putting me out of my misery - however momentarily."

[BlackAndBlueEyes]

As I had hoped, my kick connected. With a sickening crack, my opponent was sent to the cold, smooth ground of the endless arena. He was now nothing more than an inert, smelly pile of rags, flesh, and bone. Blood was flowing from his mouth, collecting in a thick mess on his scraggly beard and on the floor. I flashed a quick smirk as he spit out two almost perfect-looking teeth into a pool of crimson. Close up, he appeared to be even more of a mess than I had first thought.

Seriously, will they let anyone into the Citadel nowadays? Whatever happened to their standards?

The poor guy was in the perfect position for me to jump on him and relieve him of his life in a number of gruesome ways. Daggers through the eyes, a quick couple of stabs through the chest, a slash across the throat, a snap of the neck, forcing my wires through his nostrils and up into his brain cage for a quick round of "Ring Around the Rosie"--the possibilities were nigh endless. I stood there for a brief second contemplating the geezer's fate, perhaps longer than I should have.

I released my grip on my daggers, allowing the wire to hold them in midair. Blood was still flowing from the small gash in my chest. I bit my lower lip in an effort to shut out the pain. I pressed my right hand against the wound with the edge of my torn shirt. Man, I was quite upset that the bastard's blade tore through my corset so easily. That thing had cost me a good chunk of change, and I was going to have to replace it someday in case I decided to come back to the Citadel for another go around.

A quick, final attack on the man's head would be more than enough to satisfy the small bloodlust that being in the Citadel always gave me. I stood there, prepared to strike, when he decided to ask me for my name. I had half a mind not to answer him--as a seasoned killer, I knew that he was just stalling for a little time--but thanking me for putting him out of his misery temporarily... It was as if this guy wanted to lose. Hell, if he wished to die so bad, he could've asked me or anyone else just as easily on the mean streets of Radasanth.

The wires hovered in the air like two tentacles out of an Akashiman smut novel. "Madison Freebird," I obliged the old man with a lukewarm stare. Commanding the wires with a focused thought, I sent them towards their new homes; the left in his eye socket, the right in his throat. I then asked without expecting an answer, "Your's?"

[Bloodrose]

Madison Freebird...

Memories of the Dajas Pagoda leapt unbidden to the front of Teric's mind, the mercenary's brain hastily processing past images of his time in that place. The images floating behind the veteran's eyes were all the same - a vision of a large oaken plaque that adorned the far wall just inside the Pagoda entrance. On this plaque the monks maintained a pyramid-shaped list of the names of the Warriors, Masters, and the Grandmaster. Back when Teric had been busy climbing the steps of that pyramid to his current and esteemed position, the name Madison Freebird had adorned one of the six Warrior spots...

Shit!

Teric felt a chill run down his spine at the realization that he knew his opponent without even realizing it. The waif could have rattled off any number of names - all of them of no importance - but instead she'd chosen one that shifted the entire state of their duel. Jane Doe, Samantha Smith, Roberta Paulson; any of those names would have been just words on the wind. Madison Freebird, though, that name meant Teric had been underestimating the girl all along...

His attempt to buy some time foiled, Teric was busy trying to move by the time the girl mockingly asked him his own name. Adrenaline born of necessity coursed through the mercenary's veins as his arms and legs scrambled to try and haul his sorry corpse out of harm's way. He made for the left, his boots making a horrible scraping noise as iron ground across flat grey terrain. His hands yearned for something to grab a hold of as Teric desperately tried to get out of the way - but there were no handholds or terrestrial features to utilize. His starting position, laying there on the ground propped up on one elbow, didn't lend itself well to making a hasty escape, and Teric paid a price in flesh for that.

The knife intended for his head flew wide, but the second caught the old warrior in the right arm as he scrambled, the cold blade scraping the underside of bone as it pierced from one side of his triceps to the other. In a flash that arm went limp as if it was made of wet noodles, and Teric crashed from all fours back to the ground with a painful grunt. The grey slab of his arena was brutally hard beneath his cheekbone as Teric's legs kept kicking, his unwounded arm hastily getting under him to push him back up. Fueled by anger, pain, and adrenaline, the hung-over and wounded mercenary clawed his way to his feet and only then grabbed his now useless arm with his left hand.

The most immediate danger behind him for the moment, Teric took the opportunity to catch a couple breaths and examine his wound. It was a through-and-through injury - the tip of the blade sticking about half an inch out of the inside of his arm while the rest of the knife protruded from the outside of his arm. It wasn't the kind of injury anyone just shook off lightly, and Teric was forced to flash Madison a sardonic smile as he answered her previously rhetorical question.

"My name... is Teric... Barton." The veteran managed between deep, labored breaths. "But, more people know me as Teric 'Bloodrose'."

BANG!

Just as Madison had attacked immediately after revealing her name, Teric wasted no time in trying to salvage some measure of an advantage after revealing his. With his left hand wrapped around his right arm, the mercenary had slowly, and painfully, rotated the wounded flesh as he spoke so that the open palm faced Madison. Closing his eyes, Teric unleashed the ferociously bright and deafeningly loud blast of his Flashbang trick in an instant.

Time to prove you are who you say you are. A voice spoke inside Teric's head as he lunged forward. The air where the flashbang had gone off in front of him was warm and smoky, burning his eyes as he opened them. The sound had left such a ringing in his ears that Teric couldn't even hear his own iron-shod footfalls as he rushed Madison. Unarmed and with too short a window of opportunity to fetch his weapon, Teric lowered his shoulders into the charge and aimed the top of his head like battering ram for the waif's jaw line.

[BlackAndBlueEyes]

With an injury like that, I mused to myself as I watched the blood flow from the man's arm, this battle is almost as good as over. My dagger had sunk itself deep into flesh and muscle, and even come out the inside of his tricep. I could only imagine the unbearable pain that he was feeling. I began to call back my remaining weapon when I heard my opponent mention his name.

Teric "Bloodrose".

My heart skipped a beat, and a sudden feeling of dread had overcome me. My memories took me back to my time as a Warrior in the famous Dajas Pagoda. While I was taking on just about all comers (due to the sheer laziness of the other five Warriors), Teric had been climbing the ranks. By the time I had my little psychotic breakdown, he had achieved the title of Grandmaster of the Pagoda. From the stories I had heard, he was one of the best that ever had their name inscribed in the plaque in the Pagoda's lobby.

Oh shit. I'm dead, I'm dead, I'm dead. With just two words, this battle had become serious business, more than likely something greater than I could ever hope to handle. I suddenly started cursing myself for even coming here today.

A bright flash of light and a loud bang brought me back to reality. While I was off in la-la land, Teric had fired off some sort of spell. My eyes were filled with a blinding light, and call I could hear was a massive ringing noise. "Ah! Fuck!" I felt the wire go slack around my arm due to the sudden loss of concentration. I turned around quickly, stumbling away and desperately trying to put some distance between me and my well-storied opponent. Dammit, Madison, if it isn't one thing, it's always another...

That's when it hit me--quite literally, in the chin. I felt as if I had collided with a brick wall. The impact took me off my feet. My sight went from white to black and back again as I fell to the hard, flat ground. Blood began pooling up in my mouth. I parted my lips, coughing and whimpering as the thick red liquid trickled out between cracked teeth. White-hot pain was coursing through my jaw. I wanted to cry. I wanted to go home and bury myself in my research and a bottle or two of vodka. I wanted to be anywhere but here, fighting a living legend.

...Fucking hell...

The white light had started to fade from my eyes. I could now make out the drab grayness of the arena, along with the ratty clothing that Teric wore. I shot the Grandmaster (if indeed he still held the title) a dirty scowl, spitting out blood and a small chunk of a tooth onto the floor. Propping myself up with my left arm, I loosened a bit of wire from around my right upper arm. As quick as I could command it, I had a bit of the steel strand shoot up from near the hilt and loop itself around the protruding tip of my dagger. I wrapped the remaining slack around my right arm and pulled hard at a downward angle, hoping to tear even more flesh and muscle. Hey, if I lucked out, I could win from blood loss like the time I fought Chef What's-His-Name.

[Bloodrose]

The sensation of his smaller, lighter opponent collapsing under the battering-ram nature of his forehead attack made Teric smile as carried through the charge and stopped several feet from where the waif crumpled. The top of his head ached, and his neck smarted a bit, but all in all, Teric had to agree that sometimes it helped to have a skull as thick as iron. His uninjured arm came up as the veteran ran a hand through his hair, testing the top of his scalp for any new cuts or abrasions.

I'm going to have a nice bruise where her jaw hit. The mercenary told himself.

Madison was laying on the ground, all whimpers and hurt looks, sporting a bloodied mouth and a jaw line of cracked teeth that could have almost made her his twin. Absently, Teric's tongue probed at the hole in his ivories where the two molars she'd knocked loose used to be almost as if to say "Now we're even." It was a good feeling, in the veteran's opinion, to repay one injury with one in kind. It added a pinch of insult to the pain and physical trauma - like throwing salt on the wound.

"You deserved every bit of that." Teric scolded the young girl as she moved to rise. While she was down, Teric was making use of his first opportunity to try and recover his sword - moving backwards to keep an eye on Madison while he opened some space between them and then reaching down to pick up his weapon...

As Teric glanced down to verify where the sword's hilt was in relation to his hand, something tugged at his injured arm and pulled him slightly off-balance. Confusion settled in before the pain hit, and Teric's eyes shot to his arm, and then to Madison. For the first time since their battle had started, the veteran noticed the thin black strands that seemed to snake through the air like thick hairs. Almost too late Teric realized that he'd missed something important, and his eyes opened wide in horror as the tugging on his injured arm grew more furious.

Shlink!

The blade still lodged in his arm didn't cut so much as tear itself from Teric's arm, the blade sloughing flesh and muscle from bone for about an inch down the mercenary's arm before the hole was wide enough for the blade to turn and pull out of the wound. Pain - the most maddening, brain-numbing pain Teric could even recollect - lanced through the warrior's body as Madison's blade returned to her. It was nothing like stepping on a nail in stocking feet, nor was it like burning your flesh on a hot stove. Instead the pain was like lighting striking the left side of Teric's body, the muscles in his arm twitching as if in the midst of their own death throes and the lithe cords of brawn around his ribs constricting so tightly that the mercenary was forced to his knees as he struggled for breath. There were tears in his eyes, fire in his lungs, and Teric found himself clenching his teeth so tightly that each and every ivory felt as if it might explode under the pressure.

"YOU... STUPID... BITCH!" The words literally tore themselves from the Grandmaster's throat, his voice broken and bloodcurdling. His forehead was pressed to the cool ground now, his eyes closed as tightly as possible. Sword forgotten, Teric's good hand was busy gripping muscle to bone - as if squeezing hard enough would put the pieces back together. The pain was debilitating, and the last thing Teric could focus on was getting back up and trying to finish off Madison Freebird. Already his head was starting to swim - the adrenaline faltering under the twin assault of the mercenary's lingering hangover and blood loss. At that instant, all Teric wanted to do was crawl back under a rock somewhere in Radasanth's seedy underbelly and bury himself in a mountain of opium.

Instead he found himself on the verge of passing out in a drab grey world of his own creation.

[BlackAndBlueEyes]

It took a couple of good yanks before I could hear the knife free itself from Teric's arm. It wasn't so much the tearing of flesh and muscle, though: The sudden clanging of damascus hitting the floor, the sudden, pained gasp of my opponent, and the curse he rasped as he fell to the ground shattered the otherwise silent atmosphere.

A 'stupid bitch'? Seriously? Several dozen retorts sprang to the tip of my tounge, but I was in too much pain to even bother. That son of a bitch may as well have cracked my jaw with that headbutt. A wave of pain screamed through my mouth as I spat out blood onto the gray ground. As I slowly rose to my feet, I touched the wound Teric's sword left on my chest. The bleeding was slowing down considerably, but it was still tender. I managed to squeak out a barely audible "fuck".

Teric looked as if he had gotten the worst of our exchange. Blood was still flowing from the busted lip where I kicked him, and was now literally pouring from his arm despite his best efforts at keeping his free hand clamped down tightly. Underneath him was a growing pool of crimson. I could hear his labored breathing mixing with my own. "This... Is the... Uhhn... Grandmaster?" I wondered out loud between clenched teeth.

Back when I was a kid, whenever my parents were having a rare moment of sentimentality, they would spin yarns about some of the living legends that held that title. Massive, hulking beings that tore through their opponents with titanium broadswords and axes; sorcerers that rearranged your organs, set you on fire, then summoned demons to piss on your ashes before you could say abra kadabra; elven masters of the hunt that would stalk you through their magically-created forests with nothing but a bow, a quiver full of arrows, and a kind wind... And what sat before me was nothing more than a smelly, disheveled, disgraceful old man who couldn't beat a measly book store owner... Yeah, as if I needed any more disillusionment with the Dajas Pagoda.

After wobbling around on two feet for a few seconds, trying to push my way through the pain-induced haze, I decided to grant Teric 'Bloodrose' Barton his wish. He would die right here, right now, and by my hands. Forcing myself to shut away the fire that consumed my jaw and chest, I stretched out my arms majestically. My daggers, held fast by my wire, slowly rose ten feet above my opponent's head. I tilted the blades, their sharp points aimed at the back of his neck at a near thirty degree angle. A single drop of blood dripped from the tip of the dagger that had torn up Teric's arm, splashing as it hit the ground next to him. With a quick thought, I brought them down towards his neck as fast as I possibly could, hoping to kill him with one swift blow.

[Bloodrose]

You fucked up by coming here. Teric told himself silently, his vision dimming and losing focus as his lifeblood quickly ebbed from the open wound in his arm. As strong as he was, no grip he could muster around the wound was enough to keep the thick, sticky crimson from oozing between his fingers and escaping from beneath his palm. Whether she knew it or not, Madison had in fact struck the killing blow already - even if it wasn't a quick and brilliant death. You fucked up good and proper.

Stumbling in to the Citadel in his condition had been the mistake to end all mistakes, and yet Teric couldn't help but smirk at the complete impotency of the moment. That sick, diseased part of him that twisted his guts into knots and made him feel sick to his stomach had driven him to self-destruction - goaded him into that three day bender culminating in this fight. It was a moment that would have been a grand climax in the streets; the great Pagoda Grandmaster killed for good in the dirty streets of Radasanth. Here though, in this empty grey world, the epic finale would be precluded by the Ai'Brone. To die in the Citadel was an empty gesture, and a couple hours from now Teric would awaken in a comfortable bed no worse for wear. His wounds, his bruises, his hangover - the monks would magic all that pain away and leave him as healthy as the day he'd been born...

"...but they won't take away this emptiness." Teric's eyes glazed over, the mercenary slumping as his body feel asleep in the sense that one's leg falls asleep when sat on incorrectly for too long. The veteran's skin felt like it was being pricked by a thousand pins and needles, and his face felt like it was made of rubber and blood dribbled down his beard.

Madison's knives hit with the force of a thunderbolt, and Teric didn't even flinch. He only smiled; a dark, sarcastic grin of teeth stained red with blood. As the last breath rattled from his lungs, Teric's last though was one of a revelation...

I keep coming back to the Citadel to find a purpose, the mercenary realized, and yet nothing in this place carries enough consequence to have a purpose...

[BlackAndBlueEyes]

Schunk.

With a sickening sound, the two daggers entered Teric's neck. In his final moments, the Grandmaster smiled; a sick, unnerving, blood-stained grin. His breathing finally abated, my opponent was nothing more than a lifeless bag of bones that littered the floor.

Give yourself a pat on the back, Maddy, and buy the next round: You won another fight. Yay. Whoopie.

I walked over to Teric's corpse, heels clicking loudly with every step. I undid the wires binding the daggers before pulling them out of his flesh. Going down on one knee, I wiped the blood off of my weapons on his rags. His odor was even more offensive up close. "Ugh. Teric, what happened to you? I heard so many stories about your ascent up the Pagoda ladder," I asked the dead man as I pulled the collar of my shirt up over my nose to try and ward off the unclean mix of booze, drugs, and body odor. Satisfied that my daggers were clean, I stood up and walked a few steps away.

I cupped my hands together and hollered, knowing that the monks were listening. "Okay guys, I'm done here." A dull wave of pain tore through my jaw, reminding me that speaking might not be such a good idea at the moment.

Almost as soon as I was done shouting, Teric's corpse was dissolved away by magic, to a place inside the Citadel where the monks of the Ai'Brone would earn their keep piecing him back together. The flat, featureless arena slowly morphed into the stone waiting room that sat behind every door in the Citadel. A young monk greeted me through the open archway. "How was your battle?"

I didn't have an answer--a good one, at least. My opponent had been Teric Bloodrose, Grandmaster of the Dajas Pagoda. By all reason, I should've lost. But his condition reminded me much of myself after my little breakdown when I was a Warrior. I too had hit the bottle hard, spending much of the months after my resignation living with a blood alcohol level higher than most peasants' I.Q. numbers and living in the dark alleys of the bad parts of Radasanth. Why was he in such dire straits now? What the hell happened to such a renowned fighter?

"I don't know," I replied with a shrug. "Can you get me to a healer? I got a nasty wound and some cracked teeth that need fixing."

[Ebivoulya]

Greetings, gentlemen. I come bearing the judgment of this thread, which has been handed down by the very gods of Althanas upon you. Not all of what is written was considered in the issuance of numbers to these categories, and any inquiries or requests for explanation may be directed to your local PM box, in my name.


Bloodrose’s score will be the first, BaBE’s the second.




Story: 23.25 – 21.5 / 30


Continuity


Bloodrose: 8/10

You explain Teric’s exceptional reflexes well, and show that they still hold true despite any lessening of his mental capacities. His resentment towards the monks of the Citadel speaks about his experience and familiarity with them, and his thoughts about his opponent’s actions and apparent strategy really drive home his personality. You explain every conclusion Teric makes with examples of how and why he would know such things, and his recognition of Madison’s name also concreted his experience with the Pagoda. It was interesting that even the grandmaster could lose his temper so completely, and very believable. His last-minute regret of the battle brought some closure to the thread, and was just a great ending.

BlackAndBlueEyes: 7.25/10

Your describe the people around you in a way that makes them feel more like real people than two-dimensional characters, and their dialogue is appropriate. Madison’s analysis of how the citadel works versus the pagoda shows her knowledge of althanas as a whole. You describe your character’s resentment towards her previous lifestyle well, and even go into some detail about the particular thoughts that led her to abandon it. You manage to work some unusually canon references into your posts, like “Akashiman smut novel,” and they’re all pretty humorous. Her appraisal of Teric based on his reputation also enforced her knowledge of the Pagoda. You refer to your fight with the ‘chef’ occasionally, but only in passing, and never really expound on exactly what it meant for your character. Your memories of hearing about the great pagoda masters in stories when you were younger gave me some concrete ground to understand her more.


Setting


Bloodrose: 7/10

Though you do touch on the setting often in a poetic manner, you don’t mention it much and rely more on narrative and character-centered imagery. I believe the setting choice for the arena was appropriate, but you really didn’t give me too much of an idea of what the world outside it looked like. The Citadel description was rather nice, if a bit short. All in all, your descriptions of the world around you are good, but the expansive narrative between them gives them less significance.

BlackAndBlueEyes: 6.5/10

You don’t really describe your character physically, except for disjointed glimpses of her armor and whatnot. You describe the setting sparingly but concisely. Once you get into the arena, all you really say about it is the color of it or how expansive it is. I enjoyed your descriptions of your shop, though, and you do have a unique way of integrating the environment in your posts. A little more ‘broad imagery’ about the world around you as a whole would give your posts less of a ‘one-shot’ feel.


Pacing


Bloodrose: 8.25/10

Every now and then your posts can get somewhat thick, and this brought down the clarity a little too, but luckily it never lasted long. For the most part your pacing stays steady and reliable, without venturing too far to either extreme of verbose or concise. You have you moments of each, and they tend to flow together relatively well.

BlackAndBlueEyes: 7.75/10

You pick up your posts at a good point to display your character’s thoughts on what your opponent did without backtracking and covering everything. The casual nature of your narrative and dialogue also increasing the reading speed, but there were a couple of points where that varied. Still, you maintain a fairly strong pace for the majority of the thread.



Character: 23.75 – 22 / 30


Dialogue


Bloodrose: 7.5/10

Teric’s accent comes out well in your dialogue, as well as the effects of his hangover and the pain from the fight. You give a distinct voice to all the dialogue in your posts, and reveal the undertones well. You have a good command of your dialogue, and use it well to show both Teric’s personality, and the effects of the battle on him. He’s a sly one, and his attempt to smooth talk his opponent long enough to recover some strength fit in perfectly with his personality. Your last line of internal monologue really summed up the entire fight perfectly, and I felt it was a good end to a good fight.

BlackAndBlueEyes: 7.25/10

Her dialogue with Teric is almost uncharacteristically cold, though it’s well understood that she knows what she’s doing. The cursing in her internal monologue was perfectly in character, and very realistic given that she had just learned she was fighting the Pagoda Grandmaster. The last line of dialogue between you and the monk was fairly appropriate. Your strong grasp of humor lends itself to this category.


Action


Bloodrose: 8.25/10

Your description of Teric’s ‘light-headedness’ after he stood up so quickly was both vivid, and very believable given his recent spree. The action of your posts is good, while still maintaining the sense that your character is very out of it compared to his usual. Your choice of words and actions to mimic Madison’s added some irony to the situation, and Teric’s choice to use his ‘flashbang’ was perfectly timed, and very strategic. Your character realistically loses track of things as the battle progresses, rather than maintaining the cliché superhuman awareness a lot of people adopt. Your description of the blade wrenching itself from Teric’s arm really highlighted the pain of it, and your analogies fit well. Overall, I was fairly impressed.

BlackAndBlueEyes: 7.5/10

You fight with your character pretty realistically, and she never does anything I thought was out of her league. Your list of ‘possible deaths’ for your opponent may have grown uneccessarily long, but it was colorful and interesting. You really brought out the uncertainty and fear when Madison learned the name of the man she was fighting. You described the ‘flashbang’ and ensuing attack very realistically from her point of view; she literally never saw it coming, nor should she have. Your decision to attach your wire to the dagger still in Teric’s arm was wicked and well played, and your character maintains a realistic awareness of the wounds she has sustained so far. You employ some good imagery in describing the various battle scenes.


Persona


Bloodrose: 8/10

You give a very vivid description of your character physically. Teric also seems to be one of the most realistic characters I’ve seen, indulging in both drugs and women, and even experiencing suicidal urges. You give a very distinct reason for Teric’s strong wish to fight, and his thoughts back on his life reinforce his actions. You use his thoughts very strategically to reinforce your narrative, and they always seem appropriate. Teric’s appraisal of his opponent fit in perfectly with his personality and mindset. The ‘voice’ in his head also highlighted some of his deeper insecurities. His body language speaks as much about him as his dialogue, and you use it very well.

BlackAndBlueEyes: 7.25/10

Your intro post began with a description of your character’s typical Sunday, and the things you mentioned gave a deal of insight into her daily life. Your character is pretty rounded off, and you explain a lot of her thoughts and conclusions in the narrative. Those thoughts and internal berating helped give her more of a voice and personality. Madison’s pity on her opponent shows through in the narration, and her confusion at his apparently suicidal request was fairly well explained. Her thoughts on the fall of the great grandmaster were appropriate, as well as her association between that and her own breakdown. I felt like I got a pretty good look into her persona.



Writing Style: 25.5 – 22.5 / 30


Technique


Bloodrose: 7.75/10

In your intro you immediately begin with descriptive adjectives, and linked them to the onlookers as your character approached the Citadel. I thought this was a very effective tactic, and a strong starting point. You have a very visual style that is rich in imagery, and you generally use strong verbs that give more weight and meaning to the actions taken in your posts. You employ onomatopoeias, but luckily in moderation, and effectively. You mix the usually verbose but concise style of your posts in with some more casual language where applicable, and usually to great effect.

BlackAndBlueEyes: 7/10

You use a lot of colloquialisms in your narrative, and this gives it a very casual feel. This also helps keep a steady pace in your posts. Some of the phrases you use are pretty original and funny, while still maintaining a sense of the world cannon. Though it’s somewhat unavoidable with a first person writing style, you reference almost everything in relation to your character. ‘my abdomen, my daggers.’ You occasionally mix casual language in with somewhat complex grammar and a better vocabulary. This kind of ‘switches’ your style back and forth occasionally, as you don’t really mix the two very seamlessly. You reuse words in close succession to each other, sometimes in the same sentence. This draws more attention to the word itself than what you’re saying, almost emphasizing it. ‘I had to act quickly, so I quickly withdrew…’ Your writing style really explains through past experiences, and this helps readers associate with your character and her mindset. You ended the thread on the same nonchalant note it started on, and this kind of brought things back around and added some closure.


Mechanics


Bloodrose: 9/10

Your grammar, word choice, and most everything else is practically impeccable. There may have been an occasional error, but it was never so glaring that I thought to make note of it, so well done here.

BlackAndBlueEyes: 7.75/10

For the most part your posts are in past-tense, but you occasionally slip into present tense accidentally. Although it fits in well with your style, asking a direct question of the reader (ending in a question mark) technically changes your writing to second-person. Another small thing, but using ‘you’ outside of dialogue or internal monologue also changes the voice to second-person. Also, starting sentences with conjunctions is accepted, but technically incorrect. There weren’t too many errors in your posts, but I noticed a few.


Clarity


Bloodrose: 8.75/10

I generally had no problem understanding your posts, and your style has a good balance between verbosity and clarity.

BlackAndBlueEyes: 7.75/10

There are occasions when you put a few too many actions into a single sentence, and this makes it easy to lose track of what’s happening. Also, even though I know your character is female, using ‘he’ out of nowhere when the last subject was you, or an object, really adds a few moments of confusion.


Wildcard: 6 – 4.5 / 10


Total: 78.5 – 70.5 / 100



Bloodrose receives...

3,100 EXP!

and

350 GP!


BlackAndBlueEyes receives...

1,500 EXP!

and

300 GP!


Bloodrose is victorious!

[Taskmienster]

Exp and GP added!

BnBE is now level 3!