The Abandoned Son of True Concordia

[Yari Rafanas]

Often times one would read of the wonders of Concordia in the countless books and in the journals of has-been adventurers and tired veterans. Pages and pages are dedicated to describing its beauty, its rich abundance of life, and all the wondrous romances that occur under its canopy. However, one finds that these are only the tales that tortured souls and hopeful ignorants wish to spread in an attempt to hide the world from what truly lies within those woods.

The harsh truth exists beyond the beaten paths and the industrious lumbertown of Underwood. Passed the shady hills and the towering oaks; through the dense overgrowth and untamed flowers: there lies an ever-changing forest so unpredictable and powerful that only those seeking true freedom from the rules and restrictions of the world and those who challenge them survive. Horrible spiders and uncontrollable horrors lurk behind the barks and within every shadow. The graves of thousands rest under the soft soil – a reminder of the wars and evil that could erupt at any moment. Here these hidden dangers of the true Concordia were only known by a few and their brothers.

The King of Thieves could see his home had not changed.

His return to Concordia had yet to been fully realized. While returning to his roots and settling into the old grounds, the bandit royalty had heard the cries of death and the echoes of war nearby. Feeling a sense of ownership of these lands despite his long disappearance, he rushed towards the noise. He mostly expected a lost traveler's ravaged corpse to greet him. He was not fully prepared to stumble into the clearing and see before him a dead drow nearly torn in two from either a sloppy broadsword strike or a powerful claw. He noticed next that the deceased still carried with him a small set of knives and a bloodied katana. Naturally the king's greedy grin returned as thoughts turned to pillaging.

*SNAP*

Was the attacker still nearby? Silently the thief lunged for the shadows, his dark cloak hugged tightly as he hid from behind the largest of the nearby trees. His fingers slid to his sides and he thumbed the hilt of his daggers as he watched for whatever approached the clearing.

The drow's blood would not be the last to drop here.

[Winterhair]

"Fuckin' drow." Vincent spat as he cleaned the dark elf's blood from his blade. Unlike the so named species, the thick liquid wasn't dark at all, nor was it red like that of a human's. Instead it was a thin white substance that reminded the swordsman of other acts of violence that didn't involve weapons. Or, they did, if they were kinky enough. In any case, it covered his sword from his duel with the drow.

Well, he couldn't exactly call it a "duel". The guy had shown up, brandishing a katana in one hand and a knife in the other, and said something about Vincent killing his sister and that he was there for revenge. Or something. Vincent hadn't paid much attention to the guy's rambling, only to the fact that someone was trying to kill him. Again. Seriously, what was up with this? Kill one women and suddenly you had a thousand people coming after you screaming for revenge, and kill them and you have even more. It was a neverending cycle of bloody violence, and ever since that slut Samantha had left him he'd found that his only purpose in life these days was just to kill, kill, and kill over again. Following the cycle blindly he'd managed to get himself lost in the woods of Concordia, but that had suited him just fine. He'd been walking alone, brooding his dark thoughts when that fucking drow had come out no where and cut his arm. And they said he had no manners.

Walking over to where the body of the drow, nearly torn in half, lay glassy-eyed, he eyed the katana and the knives laying next to them. Should he take them...? Nah. With a heavy sigh he sheathed his claymore upon his back and cracked his neck. "Next time I should just take a fucking boat." He muttered to himself.

He wasn't surprised when himself answered. Yeah, but then how would you satisfy that bloodlust of yours, hmm?

He groaned aloud and hit his head with the palm of his hand. "Oh, shut up you. I'm in no mood."

You always say that.

"Because it's always true, goddamit!" He roared out loud, and several animals scattered in fright. One didn't get out of the way fast enough and without a second thought he stepped on the chipmunk, crushing it beneath his boot. "Can't you give me a fucking break in there? It's bad enough I--" A sound distracted him from berating the voice further, something different from the chittering of the woodland animals or the constant whisper of the wind. No...it had sounded like....

Did you hear that?

"Yeah, I did." He muttered, and drew his long double-edged sword from the slot in his black coat again, holding it slightly out to the side with one hand. At eighty pounds, holding the sword with just one hand was a pretty impressive feat, and had he not been so concentrated on his surroundings Vincent might have been impressed himself. But he knew he'd heard it. The flap of a cloak.

"Come out, whereva' you are. I know you're there." Silver eyes glared balefully around at the darkness and cover the trees provided, and Vincent's already damaged mind filled his imagination with things bidden from horror stories or creatures from the Abyss.

[Yari Rafanas]

The young king startled slightly, tucking himself closer to the tree as the words bounced off the branches. He had been noticed, and now he was being summoned to battle. A quick peek from behind the bark revealed the challenger as a silver-haired brute—the kind of man to carry a big sword with an equally-large mouth. It was evident that this man had been the killer of the dark elf from the wound on his arm. His stance and demeanor reminded the thief of many a warrior he had met in the past. From the faceless half-demons crowding tournament grounds such as the Cell to even old friends-turned-bitter enemies during the Facade War, Yari Rafanas felt he had seen it all. This man would be no different. He would feel the pain of defeat at the hands of the King of Thieves, son of Concordia. His possessions and possibly even his life would be forfeit.

A pair of mythril blades were unsheathed, catching what light made it through Concordia's canopy that accented the weapons' sharp curves and jagged teeth. Yari held them forward as he confidently strolled from behind the tree and into the clearing where the brute stood. His cloak floated behind him and revealed his body covered in dark leathers and prevalida studs, quality armor crafted by the Red Hand that Yari had adorned since his old alliance with the draconian Ithermoss. Though his appearance was by no means noble, heroic, or even terrifying, Yari felt his arrogant swagger would be enough to make his opponent aware of his violent intent.

“Alright,” smirked Rafanas. “Here I am! Is it everything you were expecting?”

The youth exploded forward, deftly stepping over the corpse of the drow and closing the gap between the two warriors in less than a blink of an eye. Yari's knee was thrown forward, capitalizing on the height difference by aiming low and with force enough that his target's unborn spawn would still feel the attack for generations to come.

[Winterhair]

Any other person most likely would have stopped and asked the stranger why he was attacking. They would have put away their weapons or kept them on guard, just in case. Any other man would have tried to make conversation with the mysterious stranger, and probably would have been caught off guard by his sudden appearance. But this silver eyed maniac, murderer and the violator of hundreds of women and men, was not like other people.

Before Vincent could say "Not really." to the man standing before him, he dashed forward in a burst of speed, jagged-edged daggers in each hand. What was it about him that made people want to kill him? Vincent thought to himself. Everywhere he'd gone and been, there had been warriors, bounty hunters, even mages that had sought his blood for their own purposes. Vengeance, anger, sadism, it didn't matter. Vincent had killed every single one of them, and each drop of their blood upon his sword was another life his steel had tasted. Sometimes, he wished that he could find someone strong enough to kill him and end the violent cycle he had begun...but that someone had never come, and he'd given up hope that he would find that person.

As the youth moved, Vincent thought to himself the same thoughts that his opponent had: This man would be no different. He was fast, and had adorned himself with pretty weapons and trinkets here and there, but the psychopath had encountered fast warriors before. As soon as the confident man had twitched Vincent was moving, taking his giant blade in both hands to increase his own speed as he stepped forward, slight off to the side, then spun his back foot around. True to his unconscious prediction, the smaller warrior had launched himself forward, one knee thrust forward as if to jab the pscyho with it, and at that ridiculous thought Vincent grinned slightly. Foolish boy. Without pausing Vincent swung his claymore at his opponent's unprotected back, meaning to cut him in half as he'd done to the drow. May his spirit reach whatever god he worshiped.

[Yari Rafanas]

Not yet.

The subtle deities of the great forest let loose a heavy sigh. Leaves rustled, bark creaked, and life retreated from the clearing as the gods complained of the conflict below. The drow's murder had caused only a slight stir, but now it had escalated to include a rather unwelcome bandit. Though thought once to be a true savior of these woods, Yari Rafanas now spit in the faces of the beings beyond with his rude resurrection and return to these grounds. And for what cause? Bloodshed? The spirits saw no desire in the youthful king to avenge the slain dark-elf. Surely with such a brief return this was not territorial. No, only arrogance and greed burned within Rafanas recycled soul. Should the boy meet his end, Concordia certainly would not embrace him.

As whatever luck would have it, the Concordian spirits would not see their abandoned son slain just yet. The delyn blade caught the dark fabric of Yari's cloak as the momentum of his attack carried the thief forward and into a agile roll. He had gathered himself and was to his feet facing his challenger almost as soon as he hit the soft ground, ready to move forward despite his miss. The shredded remains of his shroud floated gently onto the grass.

“Fair enough.”

He was both shocked and impressed that the brute could muster up enough speed to avoid his knee—let alone swing the heavy blade so powerfully. Perhaps simply testing this warrior would not be enough. A killer such as this likely demanded his full attention and wrath.

“You probably deserve death by the hand of some zealous knight or a farmer boy destined for greatness for what you obviously are so good at,” teased the King of Thieves, giving a slight nod at the dead drow. “But this is my forest, and you'll not be having that. A knight has no rule here. Boy heroes are not born from these lands. This is a forest welcoming only my brothers and me. Leave your possessions and weapon behind and run far away, and you may one day see the death you deserve. Stay...”

The bandit crouched low, mythril blades raised.

“And be forgotten.”

[Winterhair]

Be careful, Violator. This man means to end you.

You think I don't know that?

I think you underestimate him.

Turning his head, Vincent spat to the side. He'd heard such petty warnings and speeches from previous would-be avengers, and they no longer mattered to the swordsman. He wasn't about to drop his possessions and walk away because this scrap of a man said so. True, he managed to have avoided being meat for the vultures (or for Vincent himself; he was feeling a bit peckish), and his stance spoke of one also used to the strains of battle. He knew how to fight, whoever this man was. But so did the silver-eyed beast he'd so foolishly attacked. Well, one speech deserved another, he supposed.

"Forgotten?" He growled at his crouched opponent, walking slowly forward with his claymore resting upon his shoulder. He picked at something in his teeth that had been bothering him; probably the remains of that girl he'd slaughtered just the other day. She'd been wild, but tasted good. Laughing quietly at the thought he returned to the problem at hand. "Fuckin' gods, that's the best offer I've gotten in weeks. If only those bastards would forget me, eh?" He smiled his infamous grin at knife-wielding bandit before him, showing the sharpened canines and the flecks of blood still decorating the otherwise white teeth. Stopping about five feet away from the man he spoke up again. "Tell ya what. I don't know what gripe you got with me, and I really don't give a fuck either. Whoever hired ya to kill me is obviously too much of a pussy to do the job themselves, and I'm kinda sick of them tryin' to kill me every five minutes. I'll give ya something to take back to whatever bastards hired you so ya can say you killed me, eh?" Cracking his neck and his fingers he lifted the blade from his shoulders and stabbed it point first in the ground before him. "Otherwise I'll eat you. I'm hungry."

[Yari Rafanas]

The young king eyed the sword that pierced his homeland thoughtfully. There was not much to say about a man (or beast) that would part with his weapon so easily. He could be a coward—his threatening words hollow and simply meant to distract. He could be a liar—offering the blade in hopes Yari would take it over the other trinkets or valuables hidden on his person. Perhaps he was truly just tired of all the violence and carnage that likely followed him down each path. Many an Althanian could relate to strife and conflict haunting one's journey. For some, it was all they knew. For the bandit king, it was commonplace. Yari pondered this only momentarily, as his needs far outweighed those of the disgusting warrior before him.

“Hmph. I don't remember offering to bargain, brute,” Yari replied as he sheathed one of his pair of blades and smirked. “And I don't care if there's a price on your head. This is just a robbery—an opportunity to collect on the spoils of your conflict with our departed friend. You are just another unlucky bastard caught by the King of Thieves. Now give up!”

Yari threw his his free arm forward, peppering the area before him with orbs of bright light, aiming to punctuate his demands with his powerful time magic. The leaden light would sink into his opponent's body, anchoring him to the earth and slowing his every muscle. There would be no avoiding the swift end that would soon follow.

[Winterhair]

Dodge those! The voice in his head screamed at him, and every single muscle jumped as if shocked by electricity. Yanking his blade out of the ground at the same time, Vincent leaped backwards as the small area before him exploded into a armada of bright lights and ominous intent. Shielding his eyes with one hand, he ducked and weaved as the small orbs of light came flying at him, and he grit his fangs as a memory entered his head. It was the memory of his first real fight at the Citadel, with an angel girl who had performed a very similar attack as to this. As the memory came his body began to heat up with anger, and one of his fangs pierced his bottom lip. Blood flowed from the small wound and, almost unconsciously, a pointed tongue came out and licked it off. So, this so called "King of Thieves" was just after his possessions, eh? Well, that made things much more simple. Vincent hadn't gotten his reputation from running away from little boys and makeshift royalty, and he wasn't about to start doing so now.

One of the orbs this "King" had thrown at him almost hit him, and he had to throw himself to the side in order to dodge it. However, upon standing up he saw that the lights had faded, and he started to laugh. "Magic, eh? Figures." He looked at the man still standing there with one dagger in his hand and his grin widened maliciously. "Well then, I guess you and I can skip these pleasantries, mister 'king of thieves', and just get down to it." He licked his lips and his eyes widened with his intent. "Who knows? Maybe ya'll taste good."

He didn't wait for his opponent to respond. Swinging his sword like a giant meat cleaver he launched himself at the thief, silver eyes wide and swirling now that his blood was stirring. The giant delyn claymore came swinging around in a horizantal sweep that hummed with the force behind it, and his black coat flew out behind him to reveal the multitude of scars and stains he'd gathered over the years.

[Yari Rafanas]

The second of of the two shark blades found its way back into Yari's hand as the thief watched his target dance through the spheres. Chunks of earth flung upwards as the brute's feet kicked and the time magic showered the floor. The soil hung in the air, lingering as if gravity could not muster the strength to pull them back down. Time took hold of the tiny bits of rock and grass, slowing their decent through this dimension to a crawl. A pace that could not match the swift counterattack brought on by the murderous swordsman.

The delyn edge droned through the air, nearly removing Yari's legs as they catapulted the bandit upward and forward towards his attacker. The brigand's body twisted gracefully as he spun upside down, his arrogant gaze fixated on the blood-stained grin before him. “Fall!” he cried—two legendary weapons held under his arms cut downward as he reached the apex of his jump just over the brute. The daggers' jagged teeth aimed to hook, tear and spread the sadistic smile into a horrific maw more fitting of the foul-mouthed fiend.

The King of Thieves landed with an audible thud, falling to his right elbow to support his weight as his left leg swept outward and back in a fluid sweeping motion towards the swordsman's feet. Yari's impatience was evident in his voice.

“Fall!”

[Winterhair]

Unlike other warriors, Vincent did not feel the sting of disappointment as his blade cut through empty space instead of his target. Rather, he felt a surge of excitement akin to lust go through his veins, and if it was even possible that insane grin that decorated his visage widened to reveal even more sharp, pointed teeth. The bandit leapt with amazing agility over the swordsman's head, crying out as he slashed at Vincent's face with twin mythril daggers. He was too fast for the warrior to dodge completely, but the silver eyed beast managed to jerk his head to side a little, and one of the sharkish daggers cut into his cheek and ripped a wound into Vincent's already scarred face. It drew itself all the way across to his ear where his toughened skin gave way, and the psycho spun himself around with a hiss of pain. That smile upon his face, though, did not give way.

The bandit fell to the ground, and upon his own visage was a look of disbelief and impatience that his massive foe had not been killed. "Fall!" He cried out again, and with the grace and speed of an Akashiman assassin swung his left leg around at his foe's own. That speed gave way, however, to superior weight as that leg collided with Vincent's pair, and the swordsman barked out a sharp laugh that sounded more like a victory cry as his body did not give way an inch to the blow. He stepped forward and adjusted his grip upon his claymore, holding it now like a dagger.

"That the best ya got, 'King of Thieves'?" He taunted his opponent with that insane smile, and stepped forward in a huge blur of black leather and tan skin. His left hand rocketed out towards his opponent's face, palm open with grubby fingers and sharp nails to grab and tear off the thief's skin while his other arm came around and shot that humongous two-handed blade towards the opponent as well. He held it in his grip like a spear, obvious intent to pierce his opponent through and pin him to the ground where Vincent could finish his meal in leisure.

[Yari Rafanas]

A mistake. A kick was thrown in arrogance when it should not have been. The shock of the impact and the abrupt stop of the brigand's assault against the weight of the brute was disheartening. Irritating. Foolish. Concordia laughed at its rejected thief as he was punished for his poor choice in the melee.

Yari was on his back now, ripe for the counter-attack which the brute wasted no time with. A ghastly hand lunged for Rafanas' face, disgusting nails aiming to likely tear out his eyes. The sick claws caught nothing but the arctic leather and prevalida studding of the bandit's armored forearm. The nails didn't stand a chance in penetrating the leather, let alone the expensive vlince cloth beneath it. Yari, however, was more concerned about the massive blade bearing down on him...

Hot sparks showered the air as delyn met mythril and the strength of the blow threatened to shatter the smaller dagger. Had the thief's legendary weapon been made of any lesser a material it would have likely meant his life. Instead, the sword caught in the teeth of the shark-shaped weapon and scraped violently off course where Yari managed to direct it just under his right arm. The claymore bit into his side and the bandit shouted in pain. Blood leaked from the rough cut in his breast plate. Adrenaline kicked in, fooling the youthful king into believe it to be nothing more than a scratch. There was no time to waste pondering the wound.

Heels dug deep into the forest soil from his laying position. In a heartbeat, the youth vanished from where he lay in a burst of mud and dirt. He appeared ten feet in front of the brute wearing a nasty snarl. His left forearm was missing the leather portion of his armor, torn from his lightning-fast escape. Both daggers held low to his side, one still hissing from the clash with the claymore, the other dripping with the brute's blood.

Yari let his blades answer his opponent.

Another heartbeat and he was gone, exploding through the air diagonally. He only reappeared for another blink of an eye before performing a third backhanded burst and positioning himself behind the brute. Yari unleashed a furious flurry of dagger strikes aiming to rip and tear at the warrior's torso in fluid, precise strikes. One swing aimed to claw into his lower abdomen—another swipe aimed to trace his spine. Both swings were punctuated by the bandit bringing his blades overhead and down on to both shoulders. The mythril blades yearned to taste flesh again... Their wielder craved to take his opponent's life.

[Winterhair]

Metal kissed metal as Vincent's prey fought back, and the berserker could feel the madness of the battle working it's way through his veins. A decent opponent; a good fight. Both were things he'd longed for, for too long. Month after month of wandering and slaying had almost turned the beast off from the hunt, had almost made him forget the thrill of fighting for one's life. Too many easy kills, he figured. But this man had turned out to be far from easy; he knew what he was doing, even if he underestimated the silver-eyed brute he was fighting. Vincent's claymore deflected off the serrated edges of the shining daggers the thief held and instead of impaling the man to the ground, as had been the Violator's original intent, the claymore cut a groove into the man's side and the woodland ground. A shout of pain followed, and then, as if by magic, the man was gone.

The snow-haired pscyho did not need to wonder long where his meal had gotten to, however, as the bandit reappeared not ten feet away, knives held casually by his sides. A snarl of anger and pain flitted across the man's face, and Vincent grinned in response. He couldn't help it; the madness was upon him, and not even the voices in his head could stop him when he was like this. His jaw felt huge; his teeth like daggers in the small confines of his mouth. And he was hungry. It was not just because of the fact he hadn't eaten in a bit; no, this hunger was driven by that madness that now afflicted him. It was a sort of lust to the swordsman, and even now he could feel himself growing hard beneath his pants. It didn't matter to him who he took right now. He didn't care that he was salivating over the prospect of killing, eating, and possibly raping this man. This hunger, this need he felt, had to be satisfied. And all around him the air grew colder, as if the forest itself could sense the vulgarian change in the man.

Before he could step forth and act upon his urges the bandit moved and disappeared once more. He reappeared for an instant more, and it was that instant that gave Vincent the only warning he had before the youth disappeared once again. My back! He thought to himself, but before he could spin around he was already being attacked. He leapt forward and swung his giant claymore simultaneously, blindly trying to hit the speedy bastard at his back. He wasn't fast enough, and the younger man's daggers tasted flesh as they dug into his sides. Had it not been for the leather duster he wore, they probably would have cut into his spine and ended him. As it was, almost unimaginable pain went through him, and through that pain he could only watch as the youth lifted the two bloody weapons in his hands and directed them in a vertical death strike at his chest. An expression of triumph went across his face, and Vincent felt scorn taint the lust inside. It was too early to think he'd won.

That scorn fed Vincent's anger until it overwhelmed the pain within, and dropping the giant blade in his hand he caught the other's wrists in his huge, powerful grip. Silver eyes alight with insanity and his manhood hard still beneath his pants, a thin line of drool crept from the smile that never seemed to leave his face. "Gotcha." He whispered to the youth just before he attacked the other's throat with the only weapon he had left; his fangs.

[Yari Rafanas]

Concordia itself flinched at the swordsman's transformation from brute to beast. Such lust—such raw emotion—pulsed from the strange criminal. The dark energy all directed towards the forest's once beloved bandit son as the two engaged in their fierce melee. Roots shifted, branches retracted, and all manner of life crept further away into the shadows under the trees as if attempting to escape the bloodshed. The forest's anticipation was almost too much for its bark to bare. Soon, Concordia would know whether it was to dig a grave for the white-haired beast or if it would be forced to watch its son die again.

Yari knew it would not be the latter.

Every measurable amount of magic that Rafanas had been holding back up until this point was released into his body the moment his attacker's hands trapped his wrists. Every nerve, muscle, and joint heightened and tensed, fueled by the thief's greed, free from the restrictions of Time and Space. Above all else, there came a new sense of awareness. His eyes and mind acting twice as sharp—twice as calculative and deadly. The horrific image of his opponent's mutilated maw gaping wide was presented before him. Blood, drool, and stench offending every one of the royalty's senses. There was no doubt in Yari's mind this man meant to devour him, along with his pride and likely even his soul. His body, however, was already on the move to prevent such a meal.

The thief's left hand opened to discard the shark dagger—he needed his hand to be free. His legs were already between his body and the brute, knees lifted high with his head leaning back to escape the diseased mouth before him. Both heels of his boots pressed against the other's groin for leverage as he jerked his left arm out of the massive hand that imprisoned it. Yari had been lucky in this aspect. Had the swordsman not clawed at his face and ripped his armor from his hand moments earlier, he would not have been able to escape. As fate would have it, Yari's slender form combined with the soft vlince cloth that remained around his forearm allowed for the smaller man to slip free and bring his arm back, poised for the attack. In the swiftest of motions, he sent his hand forward again—his palm open and swirling with blinding bright light and aiming to smack hard against the other man's forehead. As his elbow extended, so did his knees, pushing his legs hard and fast off of their resting place on the brute's most tainted of regions and with enough force to break free the bandit from his captor and send him catapulting away.

Following Yari Rafanas' graceful landing several feet away from the brute, the abandoned shark dagger caught up with its master and hit the ground near the equally-neglected claymore.

[Winterhair]

Too fast. His prey was too fast; Vincent couldn't keep up with the scruffier man, no matter how fast his eyes tried to track those movements. One moment the snow-haired swordsman was sure that he'd managed to trap his opponent and win, and had been anticipating the taste of warm, salty blood flooding his throat. The next thing he knew he was blinded by a flash of bright light, and he felt his engorged manhood being brutally abused by the man's feet just as the thief achieved lift off from his position atop Vincent. The pain was not unbearable, but despite his many unnatural characteristics, he was still a man, and thus as vulnerable as any other in such a situation. His grip on the thief loosened, and before he knew it the man was standing several feet away, one of his daggers joining the claymore on the ground.

Vincent clutched at his groin with one hand as he bent down and picked up his sword with the other. "You....bastard...." He snarled from between his teeth, his silver eyes wide and wild as they focused on the thief amongst the pain. "I'll...rip you....to sh..shreds...." With a roar more akin to an animal's, he let go of his pain and charged his opponent, swinging his blade in a wide crescent arc. Pain held no meaning for him now. The voices in his head were screaming warnings but he blocked them out; they were unimportant and just distracting. All that mattered to him now was killing the man before him, no matter what the cost.

[Yari Rafanas]

Yari's right foot slid backwards for better balance, stopping abruptly as his heel bumped something solid. A brief glance and the thief noticed it was the recently-departed drow, still as lifeless as when he last was stepped over. The elf had received the most unfortunate of deaths to have been slain by this raging madman. Murderer. Vampire.. Perhaps this death would be avenged, albeit indirectly, and only as a result of the sins and greed of another, more powerful soul.

A smirk was drawn across Yari's unscathed face—a direct contrast to the bloody, frightful visage of the charging swordsman. The anger and frustration was evident in his foe. He had reclaimed his sword—the same blade the started this mess of a melee. The same sword that Yari had demanded he surrender. The very same weapon that tore the dark elf in half and had likely slain countless others in the same vicious manner. It was a terrible weapon belonging to a terrible person whom deserved nothing more than to be destroyed. The man threw the weapon forward in his fit of rage, the claymore yearning to perpetuate the bloody cycle of death.

It cut nothing but the air above the bandit as he ducked low, appearing as nothing more than a blur discarding his last-remaining dagger and reaching for the katana of the recently-deceased. Gripped firmly in both hands, the King of Thieves rose at his opponent and thrust the weapon straight forward towards the black heart of his enemy.

[Winterhair]

Once again Vincent's sword cut into nothing but air, and as he stumbled forward at the unexpected lack of resistance he could hear the voices in his head cry out for him in fear. They knew what was coming. They knew, they saw all through his own very eyes as the thief's hands blurred to the ground and grasped the fallen drow's katana, making it his own in that very moment. Their despair flooded his head as they screamed futilely for him to dodge, to move backwards, to STOP for God's sake, anything just to avoid the steel death that was coming for him. But he did not stop. He didn't know if he even could if he wanted to. His own momentum propelled him forward, and as he saw the sword coming for his heart he held his massive arms open like he was greeting an old friend.

His body, on the other hand, wasn't so willing to go to death so easily, and despite the force behind his inertia it took almost a physical effort from both of the combatants to pierce his chest. His skin seemed to scream as it broke apart under the tip of the katana, unwilling to allow the metal under it to violate the precious organs underneath, but eventually it tore apart, allowing the thief to thrust that deadly weapon right through him. It erupted out his back, piercing through bone, flesh and leather, his crimson life blood decorating it like a makeshift sheath.

At the feel of the weapon entering his body Vincent stopped moving and looked down where the hilt kissed his chest, and he smiled. He could feel his heart beating against the cold steel inside; even now, he'd swerved to avoid death, despite his own intentions to run himself through on that blade. Was he that afraid of going to death's embrace? Although he had, however, he was dying. He could feel it. With each pulse of his heart the blade cut deeper and deeper into it, and eventually it would sever it forever.

The thief stepped back, letting go of the akashiman weapon, and as if he were releasing a magic spell Vincent's legs gave out beneath him and he collapsed to the ground. His knees dug deep grooves within the sodden earth, and as he looked up he saw storm clouds starting to gather. A single rain drop fell and committed suicide on his face as he watched. The strength slowly going out of his limbs, he struggled to stand up, using the point of his sword to help him stammer to his feet. He coughed, and as he watched blood oozed from his mouth to the mud below, darkening it even further.

"I..." He lifted the claymore with the one arm he could still feel; the other had gone numb. Blade shaking, he glared at his killer with those strange silver eyes, still swirling with the rage of battle. He could no longer feel it, though, even as he snarled his words from a blood-flecked mouth. "...I...will na' die...by a strangah's 'and." He spat a crimson glob out at the thief's feet. "So...tell meh...what is your name?"

[Yari Rafanas]

Was it the poor craftsmanship of the steel blade that caused its plunge into flesh to be so difficult? Had the thief lost his touch in the art of cutting down foes with blades longer than his own? No. No, Yari knew that there was more to the heart of this monster the moment the stolen sword bit into its target's chest. This silver-haired brute was a unique warrior amidst countless fodder—the type of soul attracted to the adventures brought on from the dark corners of True Concordia and every edge of Althanas. Had he just been another fool with a dream like the dead drow, he would have been cut down at Yari's first attack... he would not have lingered with such disdain as he did now.

The thief's smirk faded slightly as he stepped back and let go of the katana, rubbing the toe of his boots into what grass had not been torn from its roots during the bloody encounter. He felt a slight bit of regret as he did so, knowing well that this man's destiny had been cut short through his own actions and greed. Had he not feared the images that circled the beast's mind, Yari would have ended this encounter quietly and removed a chunk of his opponent's soul—a technique that could leave him out cold for hours. Unfortunate that such darkness swelled within the brute, or perhaps he would still be alive.

“Yari Rafanas,” answered the King of Thieves, moving his hand slowly but firmly to remove the claymore from its former owner. “If you're strong enough, perhaps you will come back and put that knowledge to use. For now, tell me... what name will I carve into my new sword?”

[Winterhair]

As this Yari Rafanas, 'King of Thieves', took the huge blade from his hands, Vincent smiled grimly and a cold, wintery light shone from his eyes. Whether it was just reflected light from the afternoon sun shining apathetically above or from the darkness emerging within, no one knew, but it gave his next words an extra chill that no matter of snarling and growling would have created. He slurred, but they were still understandable. "Vincent Wintehscah..." He murmured and licked his dry lips still, not bother to stop the continuous flow of crimson life spilling from the wound his chest. He'd accepted his fate, and as the voices quieted down to an almost silent murmur he was glad for it. He'd lived too long, and those who lived past their appointed time went crazy. Boy, was he living proof of that. It had taken Death itself to quiet the demons in his head. Returning his unfocused gaze to his slayer he let go of his claymore, reliquishing the ownership with grace. "...but ah'm also called Vyohlaytor bah some."

He looked up at the uncaring sky and around at the living forest. He'd never expected to be killed here, to be slain before reaching his goal, but hell, maybe he'd meet Dan Lag'ratham there and they could battle for eternity. Smiling at the thought, he blinked in surprise as the ground came rushing to greet him. Since when had the ground been able to move?

With that confused thought in mind as he fell, Vincent Winterscar, the silver eyed rapist, cannibal, murderer and hunter of warriors, died, on the sodden ground of True Concordia, at the feet of it's son.

End post. Vincent loses his life and his delyn claymore, the latter being given to Yari.

[Taskmienster]

The Abandoned Son of True Concordia


Welcome back Yari, great to see an old face back up and running. I’m sorry for the delay, been chatting through PM’s so you know what’s going on at least. I’ll be judging this with moderate commentary as requested. Quotes will appear like this: ~ “[quote]” [post number it came from] ~ [Commentary]. Numbers will be given as such: | [Yari] | [Winterhair] |


[Continuity] | 6 | 5 |

Both of you opened up with a generic in the forest feel. Though you had more reason, Yari, being that you were once head of the Bandit Brotherhood, what exactly were you doing in the forest? Just wandering? Winterhair, you didn’t really give a lot of reasoning at all behind the reason for your skipping through the forest and killing people… it would have helped. Overall though, since the purpose of the battle was more for the steal and defend side of a battle, it was well done by both of you as far as overall purpose of intent goes once the battle started.

[Setting] | 5 | 4 |

Not a lot from either of you. I got some really pretty advanced writing from Yari at times that helped out, but overall the weakest category for both.

[Pacing] | 6 | 6 |

[Dialogue] | 6 | 6.5 |

-Winterhair-
Putting dialogue that’s split up that’s not either at the beginning or end of the paragraphs makes it somewhat hard to read. Try and keep it at beginning or end, you can start in the middle, pause to add outside action, and then continue as long as nothings after it. Otherwise it’s a jumble and I think technically against grammatical rules… hah.

[Action] | 6 | 6 |

It seemed like a lot was going on at times, while at others only a quick move would happen. A lot of dodging, and though I know Winterhair is a bigger strong character who’s also level 1, it seemed that Yari avoided almost all damage. Similarly, it seemed like a really long battle for such a lopsided level v. level battle… though well played in the end.

[Persona] | 6 | 6.5 |

I would have liked a bit more from Yari, but overall well done by both parties. Also, Yari, why would a thief feel the need to take on a monster of an opponent over a little robbery if he could just flee and go after an easier target. It wasn’t really made too clear WHY your character felt confident enough to fight, or why it was necessary to the character.

[Technique] | 7 | 6 |

-Yari- You did a very good job of incorporating a lot of advanced technique into the thread, which not only helped to set the stage but also a more dynamic feel to the battle overall.

-Winterhair-
Not sure if it should go here or not, but this seems to be the most fitting place to put it. The technique that you used for the different coloration for the text isn’t bad. It may be a personal pet peeve, but it works for certain characters and you pull it off well. The only thing I would suggest is that you don’t need to color the entire text, just the dialogue that’s being said. Entire blocks of back and forth white and red is distracting a whole lot.

[Mechanics] | 9 | 8.5 |

-Winterhair- just a couple mistakes.

[Clarity] | 8 | 8 |

[Wild Card] | 7 | 7 |

Yari, welcome back! Good work. Winter, way to take the death like a man.

{Score}

++Yari++ 66

++Winterhair++ 63

{Rewards}

++Yari++ 3162 + 300 exp (due to the delay) | 200 gold
(Sword Gained)

++Winterhair++ 825 + 150 exp (due to the delay) | 200 gold
(Sword and life lost)

[Taskmienster]

Exp and Gp added!