Battle scrolls chapter 1.

[Mutant_Lorenor]

(Open to 1, first come first served. Note unlike most of my battles this one DOES take place in the Citadel)

Walking to the Citadel, the small man needed something to occupy his time. He'd recently begun to participate in the underground circuit of steel cage matches popular in The Hobgoblin's Stein. Mostly back alley death-brawls, the mutant had developed a reputation as a skilled street fighter. He walked over to the Citadel looking to face up against some of the finest Althanas had to offer. He was rusty and a bit out of practice. He needed to practice in a life-fire, real-world battle.

Filled with the members of the Knights of Dawn, the small man was quick to avoid open confrontation with them. The streets were filled with patrols of the soldiers since Radasanth was still in a state of martial law. The Viceroys of Corone rarely left their ivory towers. Too many enemies lurked in the shadows and the small man was one of them. Hated by the Knights of Dawn, the small man had to hide his appearance everywhere he went in Corone. Corone was no longer a friendly faction. The Red Hand had become known as an outlaw regime and was being hunted down and exterminated one by one by those bastards, the Knights of Dawn.

Ancient cobblestone streets were tread upon by many these days. Merchants came to and from Radasanth to do business in the bazaar. Due to the summer seasons, the locals all wore warm weather clothing. Hues of blues, browns and greens were visible on outfits of various degrees of quality. Every tailormanship material from linen to vlince was visible on the folk that traversed the main square of Radasanth's central commerce district. People did business out in the open. Shops and stalls were open that sold various wares to the general public. Overlooking the bazaar's extensive reaches was The Citadel. A tower dedicated to the Order of Ai'Bron, followers of the Thaynehood.

War was worshiped in that structure. A single-minded purpose fueled by the blade and powered by bloodshed. Governing the jurisdiction of The Citadel were the monks of the order. Several of them were visible in their simple robes on the streets outside of the mammoth building. The small man made his way towards the front steps of the structure and walked up, a single monk walking up to the Salvarn lord. "We've been expecting you." The small man looked towards the monk. He wore green robes that were fair in quality and made almost entirely of a linen and cloth combination. The lining of the robe was colored black, and he wore several symbols on the chest part of the robe that signified rank and file. A single patch was visible on either deltoid region. The small warrior spoke for a moment. "Then ye knows why I am here."

"Yes I do." The monk said. He was a plain individual with absolutely common Coronian features. He had the classic square jaw, a thickly defined nose, flared nostrils, and a defined brow. His eyes were brown and his hair was jet black, tied in braids which was a popular style these days all around Althanas. The smaller of the two men stood at five feet in height, whilst the taller monk stood at approximately five feet and eight inches. The shorter of the two men wore a clothing style native to the lands of Salvar. His robe was a thick hide made from some tundra-walking beast. It was died black and purple. There were gold embroidered trimmings on the robe and the clothing was made out of combination of animal hide and vlince. The shorter man was heavily armed.

All of his weapons were sheathed in various scabbards upon his person. He had a duffel bag, native to Althanas, that was worn over the right shoulder of his person. Several objects were kept within the duffel bag that were quite valuable. The shorter man kept the hook of his long cloak up to deliberately hide his face. It was early evening, about six o'clock on a Wednesday afternoon. It was late October, C.P. 1825. "What are the conditions of the battle?" The small warrior was asked as he walked alongside the monk and began to venture through the many twisting hallways.

Guiding Lorenor to a solitary room, the monk paused. "Sir. It has been a long time since you've been here last. Things are different now. The Order has changed greatly. We will be analyzing your combat information. Do you agree to these terms?" The smaller of the two men looked up at the taller of them. He shook his head. "Normally I wouldt not. But these are not normal circumstances. The second age is upon us. I must prepare for what is coming."

"Then you agree?"

"Inform my opponent of the terms and we shalt call it even."

"Very well then Lord L--"

The smaller of the two warriors raised his hand in a fist as a sign to prevent the monk from saying what he was about to say. "Ye shalt not speak mine name. Too many unsavory types about." The monk sighed audibly. "The people who know of such matters already know who you are. It is useless to hide. You've made too many enemies."

"It matters not." The small man replied. "Inform the opponent of the situation at hand. Tell him what he is to expect. I want the safeties off, this is to be a battle to the death." The small man said, arrogance in his voice. "To the death huh? Very well. I shall tell whoever comes to challenge you. And Sir, remember one thing. The lady N'Jal has no influence here." The monk said with a visible sneer. "Keep your blasphemies. Mine lady resides within me." He patted his own chest and walked into the chamber as it was set to a randomized battlefield. All that he could now do was wait.

[Veatrix]

The last time the half-Elf was at the Citadel, she slaughtered an angel.

Not that there was anything particularly wrong about it – nobody actually dies in the Citadel. Everyone that passes out eventually regains consciousness like every other drunk, aching, confused and in somebody else’s bed. But seemingly ending a holy being’s life was a figurative slap in the face to whatever powers controlled the universe. It’s an extremely arrogant way to defy fate’s authority, although the half-Elf learned that defying fate is really the only way to go.

And the only reason for battling in the Citadel in the first place was simple: she was bored.

Looking back up to the familiar stone tower, the Citadel was becoming a paradoxical home for Veatrix Bane – you get beat, you bleed a little, but in the end, you come running back to it. After washing up on Radasanth’s shores after her boat from Scara Brae sank tragically into the sea, Veatrix found herself in countless misadventures over the past few months. Wandering the region for that long without a steady goal to pick at was taxing at best, excruciatingly mind-numbing at worst. Facing off against a magic leech in the guise of an opera enthusiast, her first stab at a Citadel battle and even a long period of agonizing inactivity, the half-Elf wanted something to get her blood boiling.

Walking up the cobblestone steps of the Citadel, Ai’Brone monks, dressed in their gallantly decorated magic robes, greeted her joyously, a huge contrast to the grim happenings in the tower they maintained. Smiling and enthusiastic, the half-Elf couldn’t tell if they were secretly dying on the inside or actually happy about the day. Groups of warriors milled around the Citadel, some chatting away about their legendary escapades, others silently waiting for their next opponent. The sound of weapons clanging and spells wooshing filled the half-Elf’s ears. Regardless of the exciting events of the main hall, Veatrix stoically approached one lone monk passing by, his green-black robe billowing in the wind of his prudent stride.

“Excuse me,” the half-Elf said.

Noticing her, the monk turned his gaze towards Veatrix, eyeing her up and down. The symbols and lining of the robe signified his rank within the Citadel – this one wasn’t just one of the lower level acolytes. He had a certain aura about him, and his purposeful walk seemed determined for accomplishment. Studying her, he seemed wholly unimpressed by her appearance – black corset over simple linen clothing, golden blonde hair, oversized silver eyelashes and translucent butterfly wings flapping unconsciously. Even Gainsborough, her pearl-inlayed steel short sword, seemed toy-like, if not for its deadly edge. If he was looking for a powerful warrior, Veatrix seemed more like an overgrown fairy.

But as if finding what he needed, the monk nodded to himself. “Do you want to fight?”

“Yes,” the half-Elf replied curtly. “Challenge me.”

With an amused look, the monk led her deep within the Citadel. “If you want a fight, I have a special opponent waiting.”

“As long as it’s not an angel. I’m sick of those self-righteous bastards.”

“On the contrary, Miss-“

“Bane.”

“Miss Bane. Your opponent is not an angel and is not to be toyed with – he wants a battle. To the death.”

The half-Elf’s eyebrows raised, intrigued. “Sounds like fun.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Turning a corner, the two disappeared into a shadowy hallway, with only a few doors into different battle gateways. The sound of rookie combatants brandishing their weapons had long faded into the distance. The blood-stained carpet complimented the grey rock wall beautifully, while the simple wooden door stood proudly in front of them.

“He wants you to choose the arena,” the monk said, turning to stand right before the door.

“Really? Ugh, what a lazy ass.”

Pondering on what could be advantageous to her, Veatrix thought hard on the battle’s location. Like weapons, spells and physical preparation, location was just as important in any fight. A warrior has to know his playing field and use it to his advantage. Winning can sometimes even be determined by where the battle is being fought. Of course, Veatrix loved to defy battle logic. Smiling wryly, the half-Elf turned the silver knob of her decision.

[ARENA: A 50-meter crystal clear lake, with a waterfall cascading down the side. The lake is surrounded by a green forest, alive with the sound of buzzing insects and other wildlife enjoying life. In the lake, there is a myriad of fish – the lake is biologically like a small ocean, filled with different species. Note that there is one great white shark in the lake, 5 meters in length and over 2,000 pounds. It is vicious and will attack anyone that disturbs it hiding place, which is somewhere close to the waterfall. There is no explanation for it being able to live in such a small amount of space. As well, neither competitor knows its there, but its presence can be easily felt with those of magical ability. The lake also has multiple “islands” on it, slippery but enough for at least two grown men to fit on them. They are magical implements, basically floating atop the surface but hard as rock, and have nothing to support them underneath. They are all about one jump’s away from one another, but as the combatants come closer to the waterfall, they start to become further from one another. These islands will be the main place of battle, unless we both decide to move to the sandy shores. The time is midday, with the sun shining brightly, skies clear and wind at a cool and dependable chill. Enjoy!]

[Mutant_Lorenor]

(Nicely done)

Time was passing and the mutant sat in silent meditation. Reading from the books of N'Jal, the Necronomicon, he sat in the cobblestone chamber. He was all alone. Noises from the outside world did not filter into the chamber for the walls were quite thick. Symbols were etched into the room upon the floor and the wall and the ceiling too. Lorenor had seen these symbols a billion times and in his studies learned of their dreaded meanings. Monks watched the chamber in the distance recording any pertinent battle data. This was necessary when allies were chosen and enemies made. Suddenly, when the mutant had noticed that a great deal of time had passed, the double-doors to the chamber opened. A powerful scent filled the room. Lorenor turned his attention towards Veatrix Bane when the tumblers in the doors activated and the magics in the room burned with power. Lorenor felt a rush in his heart as the physical appearance of the room changed from a simple stone chamber to another world.

Sitting on the ground now, the mutant saw a large crystal-clear lake that could've been construed for a small ocean. The mutant felt life in the area all around him. Monsters patrolled the wild with various degrees of intellect and cunning. Lorenor felt the temperature increasing subtly and becoming almost unbearably hot. Thankfully for his U.V. protection suit, the effects of the sun no longer out-right killed the mutant. The mutant saw that there were several humanoids fishing in the lake. Looking up at the sun, the mutant covered his eyes and hissed, it was clear that the glowing orb in the sky was the spider magi's bane. He hissed again. Standing up, he meticulously closed the three works placing them within his personal belongings. The Necronomicon was his most precious belonging. He kept it with him at all times. Once the doors were closed and the tumblers within them rotated to their stationary position, the arena was complete. It was a happy sort of scene, a happiness that somehow seemed like a kick to the gut of the mutant. Lorenor knew that he would never find peace, so this constant conflict was some sort of a solace and escape.

The mutant felt the weight of the three books against his person. Tremendous power flowed from them. It was a power not meant for the realm of the living, not meant for the Firmanent. Lorenor stood in a simple and relax stance, staring at the lake for a moment. Well what he could see of it within twenty feet in every direction. He stood close to the like, near one of its shores. A group of fisher folk sat with their equipment by the lake and hunted the bounty beneath the surface of the water. Lorenor could see the glowing red energy blossoming outwards from their bloody orchards. The central organ beat blood out into the rest of the humanoid vessels making the mutant realized it had been some time since his last feed. The daytime hours had a psychologically adverse effect on the mutant despite the U.V. Suit. Lorenor felt his powers drain to about fifty percent their normal level. So where he could sense things within twenty feet, he was now limited to a radius and sphere of about ten feet.

Scents of all kinds touched his sensory array as the wind moved freely about the mutant. His vlince cloak danced in the breeze like a banshee in the wind. Adorning the cloak was the symbols of the Power Group known as the Red Hand. Having earned a history within that group, Lorenor was now one of its key members and had obtained the status of counsel member alongside Ranger Nailo. Lorenor had history all over the world. His particular style of dress suggested a long stay at Salvar. He wore thick hides that were made of tundra-walking beasts. They were colored in the tones of the wild, browns, blacks, and natural fur colors. Fur shivered in the wind as the mutant stood there. He was very short for a warrior, standing at only five feet nothing. He weighed approximately two hundred pounds by Althanian measurement standards. His build was lithe and athletic. He was looking away from Veatrix Bane as she entered the arena. The aroma of her sexuality filled his senses immediately reminding him of his greed. He let a minute pass, and turned his attention towards her (I assume if that's okay) approaching form.

The mutant had never seen this girl before. She had a certain air about her, an air of developing experience. There was a particular glow of both danger and extremities about her. She had blood on her hands. Her face had the particular face of experience, Lorenor saw this. Experience, but not wisdom, he noticed that too. Lorenor clenched his fists as he approached and stared at the approaching girl. She was quite pleasing to the eyes. In all, Lorenor found her to be quite attractive. She wasn't a stunning beauty by High Cornian standards, but she was beautiful in her own right. Lorenor kept the dark lady within her, so no other woman could compare to N'Jal's good graces. Lorenor was an obsessed fanatic when it came to N'Jal but only his people, the Forsaken knew this to be true. His eyes dimmed somewhat as the glowing furnaces reflected sunlight. His hood was up so he had not yet revealed the nature of his hideousness. Lorenor knew why she had come, and he knew why he had come. He smiled inwardly to himself. Ah this beautiful con. You have to admire it. The perfect control scheme.

"You have picked an interesting arena for us." Lorenor called out in his deep, raspy voice. His voice sounded very strange and seemed to resonate from some furnace deep within. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Lorenor. Lorenor V'halkulus." The mutant spoke with an air of self-importance. It was clear that he'd obtained some fashion of lordship, or some title or another. In the long run it didn't matter to the accursed bitch that lady history was. "You are very brave for accepting a challenge such as this one. I am honored that you will assist me in my plans." More arrogance, more pretty words. The creature went on. He was a monster playing at being a human being. Or was it the other way around? "I've said too much already. I do like a good long chat. Perhaps afterwards we can share a drink or three." The mutant chuckled. He knew that formalities were useless in the Citadel. He was eager to get this underway. He drew a damascus sword that glowed with power. The tip of the weapon was pointed low to the ground, just a few inches away from some strange looking flowers. The mutant kept his eyes on his opponent now. He didn't notice several strange humanoids gathering to observe the unfolding conflict, he had completely focused on the girl before him by then.

[Veatrix]

(the approaching bunnying is completely fine, and good details, thanks.)

Entering the arena, like her previous battle in the Citadel, was magical slap in the face. The transformation of the Citadel room from a medium-sized stone chamber to a nature’s beauty scenery was incredible. The lake that the half-Elf described to the monk was there, in all its wide and oceanic glory, the waterfall cascading beautifully in the distance. Humanoids milled around the far edge of the shores, fishing away for food and enjoyment, while the sun burned in the sky brightly. The forest surrounding the lake throbbed with life, but the lake’s underwater residents and their spritely life was impressive.

Wow. Good job.

In the distance, Veatrix’s attention was caught by a smallish man-figure. He was a short one, Veatrix was clearly at least three inches taller. Wrapped up in heavy-looking dark robes and hood up, it was a miracle the warrior wasn’t sweating profusely underneath all that clothing. He even had animal fur from his clothing dancing happily in the summer breeze of the Citadel arena. With luxurious-looking coats and robes, Veatrix simply assumed that her opponent was of some type of noble status. The way the he carried himself was filled with pride and nobility. Whatever that noble status was, it seemed just a little darker than the average spoiled rich man.

Approaching her opponent, ballerina flats sinking under the soft grain of the lakeshore sands, she sensed a dangerous presence – the monk was right: he was not to be toyed with. There was a gritty undertone to all his movements, and though everything around them seemed peaceful and heavenly, this battle was sure to be violent. Just the way the warrior stood, calmly and completely confident in his abilities, signified a deeper assurance within the killing field. Veatrix couldn’t be sure what he had done in his life, or what he had been involved with, but it was plain for any fellow warrior to see that this man was very powerful. His strength practically set the air around him on magical red alert. Exhilarated at the prospect of a promising battle, Veatrix planted herself in front of the man, coolly staring him down.

"You have picked an interesting arena for us,” he said in a raspy, alien voice. His pretty words were drenched in self-assurance and self-importance, a simple intimidation tactic Veatrix brushed off her shoulder. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Lorenor. Lorenor V'halkulus. You are very brave for accepting a challenge such as this one. I am honored that you will assist me in my plans. I've said too much already. I do like a good long chat. Perhaps afterwards we can share a drink or three."

Drawing a damascus sword, Veatrix was slightly taken aback. Even his gravelly voice emanated of dark forces and seething power working within his soul. Flicking her blonde hair back, silver eyelashes gazing nonchalantly at her opponent, she drew Gainsborough, her pearl-inlayed steel short sword, from its wooden lair. It had been a while – Gainsborough was screaming for blood. Weapon in hand and magical energies slowing kicking up speed within her, the half-Elf pulled a cocky warrior’s stance. Standing her ground, she heart smiled in excitement. If he was confident in his abilities, so was she.

“I guess we could have a couple of drinks, Lorenor,” Veatrix said, breezing blowing and sun shining upon her – she was a beautiful forest goddess, butterfly wings reflecting the lights. “After I kill you, of course. I’m sure you’ll remember my name when you wake up in the recovery dorms – Veatrix Bane, my good sir.”

Without warning, Veatrix drew Gainsborough into a high slash, the sword coming down from the half-Elf’s raised right arm. The steel sword gleamed in the sunlight, the two pearls on its hilt soaking up in the bright sunlight of the Citadel’s magic. Aimed to slash across the warrior’s head, the force of her first strike was dangerous.

[Mutant_Lorenor]

She quickly covered a lot of ground from her previous position to her now current one. Just shy a few pace or two from his current position. Lorenor was already in a combat stance when she took the initiative strike. He felt the cold steel of a weapon being drawn and used against him with the intent to kill. She intends to end this match quickly. I'll teach her a lesson for that one. Lorenor quickly ducked underneath the incoming strike and swung his damascus sword at her mid-section. It was a counter maneuver that was quite skilled and refined as he'd done it time and time again.

Lorenor purposefully attempted to move the side of the blade so that it might connect with her flesh if it actually connected. He was striking with the side of the blade, and the flat surface of his weapon ran a shadow parallel to the ground beneath him. His entire body moved in with the counter-strike. He attempted to apply added force and momentum to the strike. He could feel the cold steel above his head even as it connected with nothing but air. He got lucky that time, but he knew that his luck would run out eventually. The luck of the devil! The mutant thought to himself as he moved his weight in a sharp contrast to her movement.

In essence, he was attempting to use her momentum against her. If it worked, he would be the one drawing first blood. His evasion of her attack had been a narrow maneuver. Wind from her sword knocked his hood back revealing his hideous visage. As his dreadlocks danced in the breeze, the sword managed to sever one of the pieces of his hair. A nearly completely intact lock fell, with weight, to the ground without a sound. Lorenor was locked in movement and vulnerable to whatever counterstrike she might attempt to send his way.

All though he knew this to be true, he was prepared to face several movements ahead. He'd seen enough battles to know what to expect from most opponents. So far there had been no surprises. But he sensed a terrible magic lurking within the girl and he was eager to see what secrets she possessed. Patience. Discipline. These were the order of the day. His blade moved closer to her person with each passing moment...

[Veatrix]

(bunnying approved)

Being the first to attack encompassed many things for the half-Elf: confidence, power, valor. The strong swing of Veatrix’s sword was more than just an attempt to draw first blood – her face, silver eyelashes gleaming angrily, spoke volumes. Mouth clenched into an animalistic snarl and forehead scrunched up in excitement and stress, her first strike, more or less, set the tone of the remainder of the battle: quick and brutal.

Unfortunately for her, Lorenor was much quicker than she expected him to be. Sure, he looked and acted the part of a skilled warrior, but one shouldn’t judge based on appearance: helpless old ladies don’t necessarily mean weak ones (http://althanas.com/world/showthread.php?t=16381). Quickly ducking under the force of Gainsborough’s bite, the half-Elf’s attack missed narrowly, the swish of the blade slicing through clean air. But as the strong wind of Veatrix’s attack caught her off-guard, it blew the warrior’s hood from his head revealing a visage that sent chills down her spine, reverberating to her shining butterfly wings.

Lorenor’s face was far from human, his strange and chilling appearance only accented by the long dreadlocks swinging from his head. His eyes glowed an eerie purple, piercing into Veatrix’s own silver eyelash-rimmed eyes. His hair looked like a dangerous , overgrown tarantula, and Veatrix wasn’t a huge fan of spiders, despite having insectoid features herself. Her butterfly wings were complete contrasts to Lorenor’s spidery hair and ugly face. One of his dreadlocks was cut effortlessly by Gainsborough as the piece of hair danced in the wind. It fell to the sandy shoreline of the lake, a black taint against the purity of the white sands.

Instinctively, the half-Elf shouted her one-word protection spell, not even seeing the warrior’s fierce counterattack driving closer to her side.

“PROTEGO!”

The magical shield activated instantly, but the distraction of Lorenor’s face and the pure strength of her first attack was enough to slice into Veatrix’s pristine skin. And the shielding spell effectively deflected the rest of Lorenor’s blade, but it didn’t even hold out, as her concentration was thrown to something else. Despite her new cut being shallow, Veatrix was not an experienced warrior in the strength level of her opponent – pain throbbed from under her white cotton shirt, where a patch of dark scarlet blood began to form. She wasn’t immune to pain like others were. But there was no time to meander upon the drawing of first blood as Veatrix’s Protego spell, assisted by the sheer momentum of both their attacks, threw the two warriors powerfully.

Veatrix flew into the lakeshore’s sands, the white grainy substance filling the gaps of her body. Sand covered the half-Elf’s body, with some of her blood colouring the shore red. The unexpected force of her spell was jarring. Recovering from her own magic turning on her, she saw a disoriented Lorenor standing up, maybe five or six paces away, drenched in fresh water – the Protego spell sent him flying right into the lake.

[Mutant_Lorenor]

It had all happened so quickly that the mutant found himself stupefied. The girl possessed the terrible powers that he had seen in her brilliant, glowing halo. Lorenor saw a pulse in her power when she yelled out the power word necessary to activating the damned song-magic that Elves were known for. He cursed his existence at that moment as he was suddenly tossed aside and backwards several paces rolling on his form with a strange sort of haphazard grace. It was a chaotic thing really, his body rolling feet over head as he bounced off the earth's crust. There was a splash that signaled his body's abrupt landing into the water. Various ripples spread out from where his body was half emerged in the lake. He looked at her for a moment with something that was akin to absolute shock. His hideous, undead face making a mockery of the emotion. Then, his emotions returned to their usually calm selves. His features settled in, and the intensity in his face returned. He noticed something trickling down his face that tasted slightly like rust.

Familiar to him, the taste felt foreign. The colour of the mutant's blood was black as it was exposed to the 02. Lorenor looked down a bit and saw that his face was covered in dirt and blood. Wiping the blood from his chin the mutant spit out a good share of it. Lorenor saw that the girl radiated more energy now as she'd depleted some of it. Some sort of residual effect of the power that coursed in her veins. Feeling disgusted at the turn of events, the mutant realized he hadn't even had a chance to throw up a single Magus Shield to prevent the attack from doing its damage. She'd caught him completely unawares, and off guard. Thankfully though, the mutant noticed one other thing. Glowing blood flowed off his damascus sword. I caught her. The bitch is bleeding good. Lorenor grinned at that thought realizing that his attack had indeed bit. Lifting his weapon up and pointing towards the girl's current position the mutant prepared to move forward. However, something else happened. One of the humanoids intervened.

"Say there kid. That's not very smart of you. We been watching this fight for a good while now." He began. "You fight like you got a death-wish or some shit like that. That's not a very good way to go about things." The mutant turned towards the voice. It was one of the strange fishermen. The humanoid stood at roughly a little over six feet. Lorenor guessed at least one inch or two. Judging by the heavy build of the individual, Lorenor guessed that the man was very athletic or at least his race was just naturally large. The man had very long arms, and three fingers. One set of three fingers on each of his four arms. The mutant found the strange mosaic before him of living flesh strangely beautiful. The man had a very round face and green skin. He also wore braids on his head. Noticing beads in his braids, the mutant studied the man further. He wore a simple cloth shirt and pair of baggy pants. His boots were simple cloth as well. The man had glowing eyes that were sky blue in nature. Lorenor could see the lake reflected in those eyes. Already in a bad mood, the mutant could not sit well with the fact that he was getting -lectured- by this alien humanoid.

"Mind your own business!" The mutant began to walk forward and felt his knees weaken. He fell to the ground for a moment feeling the water splashing around him. He was waist-deep in water and the man before him stood at least a head above him. Lorenor shook his head as he was regaining his strength and trying to breathe normally again. He kept his sight in the general direction of Veatrix Bane. Great she's just full of fucking surprises. Lorenor's face was twisted in what appeared to be some sort of a wince or a pained expression. The mutant walked forward after a few moments passed and the man kept following him. "What the hell do you want man?" Lorenor was getting irritated by now. He couldn't tell if the humanoid was a real person or a hallucination. It didn't matter at this point. "Instead of going too her, why don't you move away from her?" To an onlooker, it would seem like Lorenor was talking to thin air. Was he really that insane? Was it an act? It was difficult to tell at this point with the insanity of the moment.

Lorenor sighed. "We'll play this your way fisher. What do I gain out of this?" The tall man grinned. "Advantage in your surroundings kid. Always remember where you are fighting." And with that, the big man left and went back to fishing with his buddies. Lorenor shook his head at that and decided to take the man's advice. Come and get me you crazy lady you. Deciding to swim out to one of the nearby islands and begin to make his way across the lake, the mutant sheathed his weapon. He kicked forward and began swimming to the nearest land-mass. There wasn't much on it. Just a few trees, and a few people fishing. The mutant began to question himself when it came to the nature of these other people. Could she see them? Is she as insane as I am? Concentrating on swimming, he put his endurance to the test. It was a swim that lasted a few feet and the mutant crawled across the earth and onto the land mass. Once he was on it, he tried to clean himself off as much as he could. His clothing clung to his body. Water dripped down his legs and down his arms, he sighed at that calmly.

Thankfully, his clothing was vlince and quite durable. His body was somewhat exhausted from the swim and so he caught his breath in the meantime. From the initial onset of the battle, the mutant had underestimated his opponent drastically. He would learn from that mistake and move on. There was nothing he could do to reverse the effects of her initial attack. She had power, he would have to remember that. She had style too, he would have to remember that as well. The afternoon sun beat down on his chest making him much more tired than normal. Adrenalin pushed him through the remainder of this excursion. He looked off a few feet he could see more islands in the lake. They were close by and seemed to form a chain. Lorenor noticed several of the fishermen kept looking at him strangely. Having no other choice but to wait for his opponent, the mutant sat down and went into a deep meditation. He was in this battle for the long haul. Somewhere in the Citadel, Monks were busily recording the battle information that the two warriors gave off.

[Veatrix]

Feeling the blood rushing out of her body from the shallow wound in her side, Veatrix put her hand to her shirt. Looking at it, fresh blood dripped from it, as it cascaded from her body, ruining a perfectly nice white shirt. That shirt was from her father, who had died just a few months past. And everyone knows that stains don’t wash off white shirts. Shrugging her fashion problems aside, the half-Elf noticed the red dots on the sand. The impact of the protection spell even threw some of her blood on the sand, forming little droplets of human essence and mother nature.

“Ow… you’re gonna pay for my shirt!,” she screamed.

Dusting off the sand in her bloody clothing, Veatrix simply stared at Lorenor as he suddenly began talking to himself. Is this guy crazy? The warrior was recovering from being thrown into the lake when the half-Elf noticed that he was suddenly talking to something in the air. The man spat a hearty amount of disgusting black blood into the waters and began addressing the wind angrily. Ignoring the stabbing pain in her side, Veatrix put her hand to the side of her mouth and shouted out, amused and slightly confused.

“Seeing things already?”

Lorenor ceased his insane soliloquy and began swimming out into the lake. Eyebrows furrowing in confusion, the half-Elf watched as the warrior swam to one of the larger islands in the middle of the lake, the smaller islands forming a chaining landmass in the middle of the body of water. Realistically, the swim didn’t seem very taxing, it might have been a 30-second paddle from the lake’s shoreline to the island that Lorenor had decided occupy. Despite being slightly rattled and dripping wet, he simply sat down on the earth and began meditating.

It was beyond her as to why Lorenor had decided to swim out further into the lake. As beautiful as it may be, with the waterfall gushing down powerfully in the distance, the lake hurt both their chances of winning – the water was more of an obstacle than a helping hand. Despite that, Veatrix grinned, deciding that the battle would be a lot more fun challenging.

Bracing herself for the assault of cold water, Veatrix followed suit in the crazy idea of swimming out into the middle of the lake. Paddling strongly, legs driving her towards the medium-sized island Lorenor sat upon, the swim was refreshing. Although her clothes and weapon weighed her down, and the wound in her side begged to be free of the cool waters, the half-Elf crawled upon the land. Huffing and puffing from the swim, she get her gaze on her opponent as she caught her breath. Sword in hand and magic charging up within her, she flipped her drenched blonde hair from her face. Even though she held up a tough image, Veatrix knew that Lorenor was a force to be reckoned with. Just the counterattack he gave her, its style and practiced grace, was enough to make her believe that this ugly mockery of a human (unless he wasn;t human) had many more tricks up his sleeve. Although her magical talent wasn’t as honed as many of her previous foes, she could feel the power rippling beneath his armor and skin. She cautiously approached her opponent, knowing that the battle had just begun.

“Meditating now?,” she addressed Lorenor, who was calmly sitting down on the ground. “I thought you wanted a fight to the death?”

Feeling the magical energies crackling through her bones, Veatrix proudly shouted out another spell, her raised voice commanding the lake to do her bidding.

“OCEANIA!”

Suddenly, two seven feet tentacles rose from the surface of the water, only they weren’t any creature’s appendages. The two tentacles were magical creations, made of the lake’s water, hovering an inch above Veatrix’s head, ready to strike. The tentacles were crystalline and powerful-looking, and because they were made of the lake’s water, small fish caught in the spell swam nonchalantly inside the magical appendages. They whipped around aggressively at the passive form of Veatrix’s opponent. The movements of the tentacles didn’t seem to bother any of the wildlife living inside of them. Although they weren’t very strong, and they wouldn’t have done any significant damage to Lorenor, the tentacles were still useful tools for Veatrix. Swaying under the half-Elf’s control, they were excellent distractions, hopefully enough to give her a chance to land a crucial blow.

Pointing her left hand at Lorenor, the tentacles whipped at him as Veatrix charged through the earth, her feet stamping as she brought Gainsborough back up for another strike to the head. The tentacles waved around wildly, aiming to slap their opponent around while Veatrix’s sword screamed for some bloody payback. Right hand tightly clasped around the hilt of her short sword, the half-Elf had her weapon and magical tentacles all poised to stab at the ugly warrior’s calm, meditating visage.

[Mutant_Lorenor]

And just as the strange creature had told the mutant, the girl made the effort to swim out to her opponent. Lorenor saw that she was bleeding in the water, and it left a trail in it. Don't disturb the water. The mutant thought to himself as she crawled out of the lake and onto the island. When she was within range she began her secondary attack. Prepared, Lorenor had ample opportunity to charge the magics within his precious magus shield. Attached to his right arm was a steel bracer, of masterwork quality, that contained an archaic secret. Whilst meditating, he was actually calling up his power in order to set up his next maneuver. He assumed that she would act judging by how she had taken up the initiative in the beginning. Armed with that knowledge, the mutant waited until after she had revealed her next power-word command line. Reveal all your secrets. Whilst I keep all of mine. Lorenor felt the charge just as she called her command line. The spell-song was conjured and its effects were visible.

An impressive amount of water was used to conjure a pair of large tentacles, the size that makes one think of gods as being big. Lorenor could see predatory sea creatures, and even globules of the girl's own blood mixing in the water. Angry fish driven mad by the blood began to attack one another and spill more blood on the ground. Lorenor waited until the last possible moment when Veatrix began her attack. Again she is attempting to attack my head! Lorenor thought to himself. Reacting with a reaction time and agility that was one time greater than the reaction time of an average human being, the mutant already began to analyze the flaws in her attack. She had a pattern. She moved with a very specific intent. Lorenor was pleased but did not allowed his newly found knowledge to distract him any longer than necessary. Right at the last second, the mutant released the power at his command. With the air rippling around him, there was no command line. No need to whisper any songs of power like the bastard elves had to. There was simply the mental tug across his symbiotic bracer and the power was released once charged.

Unable to call his power for Veatrixs' previous attack, the mutant knew he would have at least one more big charge left. His kinetic discharge gun worked the same way. As his energies were prepared for discharge, the Kinetic gun vibrated in his arm signaling that it was now ready for use. He also had his magical ring at his disposal as well. Any of those abilities could save the mutant's neck from this moment of the battle, on. As a creature of shadows, the mutant knew the intoxicating power at his disposal. He could not shoot lightning out of his ass, or fire from his eyes, but the mutant was a clever bastard nonetheless. He knew how to take his hits, and he knew how to take them with style. Her first attack had been a warning shot, Lorenor knew. Part of the game was knowing which hits to take, and which hits to avoid as much as possible. And this was one of those time. A normal sucker would have fallen for that pretty girl's attack. Hook. Line and sinker. But Lorenor wasn't any sucker. He was Lorenor. He was the keeper of the N'Jal Protocol.

And damn it, he would walk out of there with the W! With all that in mind, the air rippled with the power of the Aegis Bracer. Magics formed together at one central axis point, directing their powers with one central purpose. The protection of Lorenor. Lorenor felt the power focus together and form one invisible shield. Only ripples were visible in the air. The shield solidified as Veatrixs' dual-pronged attack came in. She was almost desperately attempting to claim Lorenor's head and end this battle quickly. "Not this time!" Lorenor yelled as he felt the Aegis solidify. All at once, Veatrix struck. Her sword, and the two tentacles came at the magus shield with intense power. The shield cracked sending a burst of pure power across the air with potential for knock-back force. Lorenor saw the impact point of the shield and waited just the right time to launch his counter. He raised his arm and a charge of his kinetic gun was prepared. He launched one burst of the kinetic energy aimed right at Veatrixs' general person. He didn't care where it hit, he just wanted a hit. Once the volley was launched, Lorenor swung his damascus weapon once more aiming downwards and swinging downwards. He was aiming to clip Veatrix in the legs...

[Veatrix]

The tides of battle had yet again turned.

Veatrix, in the first few moments of the battle, was fully confident in her ability to make this Lorenor character succumb to her power. She was certain that although he might have been more powerful than her, her magic and sword skill would ultimately prevail. But as the battle between them raged on, the half-Elf realized that winning might not be so easily attainable after all. Although Lorenor looked like he was calmly meditating her Protego spell stress away, Veatrix realized she was all too wrong as her three-hit attack was swallowed by a magic shield of his own.

“Not this time!,” he yelled as Veatrix’s Gainsborough and two magical tentacles collided with the shield.

The moment her sword and the tentacles hit the shield, the water appendages exploded, the magics canceling out from the unsuccessful hit. Fresh water mixed in with Veatrix’s blood sprayed every, making the day seem like a victim of a sunny afternoon shower. The bright sun gleaming in the sky even presented a small rainbow in the light shower of lake water. The small fish trapped in the water tentacles dropped on to the ground, jumping around on dry earth, eager to be back swimming in the water. Their life faded away as they accepted the dry ground to be their final resting place. Veatrix didn’t expect the tentacles to do damage at all, they were very weak magic serving only the purpose of distraction and intimidation, but she also didn’t expect Lorenor to come back at her with a shield of his own. Gainsborough didn’t even affect Lorenor, as the force of her attack was absorbed by his defensive armor.

As Veatrix pulled away from her failed attempt to draw her opponent’s blood, energy coming up from Lorenor’s arm shot at her, catching her square in the chest. Everything that was being hurtled at her frail body was all so unexpected – Veatrix didn’t know how to react. The power surged through her body, like she had just been punched in the gut. If Lorenor simply wanted any type of hit, since it seemed that the shock wasn’t aimed for anything in particular, he got a hit. The air was knocked out of her so quickly that she didn’t see another attack coming her way: the warrior’s sword hastily came down upon the half-elf, aiming for her leg.

Disoriented and badly hurt from the kinetic energy blast and Lorenor’s previous attack, the damascus weapon drove deep into Veatrix’s left thigh. There was not time for her to avoid or counteract the attack, everything was happening much faster than she anticipated. Blood spurted out of her wound, her black silk pants drowning in the deep scarlet blood. Gainsborough flew out of her hand, landing a few feet away from the two combatants. Unarmed, unprotected and in vast amounts of pain, Veatrix let out a stifled whimper, clutching at the dangerously gushing wound, while she lost her balance and fell right back into the lake. Her hands bathed in her own life essence, dying them red as a rose.

This wasn’t going the way she thought it to be.

Clutching her thigh in hopes that the bleeding would slow, Veatrix dragged herself away from her opponent, into the water. She desperately tried to reach the next island, which was only a few feet away. The cool waters of the lake attacked at Veatrix’s side and thigh wounds, washing away the blood but weighing her person down with the excess water wetting her clothes. Shuffling to the next landmass, Veatrix groaned as she maneuvered her wounded body. At this point in the battle, she had no plan – her weapon lay useless at the feet of Lorenor, her body was slowly giving itself up to the pain, and her enemy clearly had the upper hand. All she had now was her survival instinct and magic to rely on, and so far, neither has shown itself to be useful.

For the first time in a long time, the half-Elf was afraid.

[Mutant_Lorenor]

Success! Thinking back to his battle against Xos Xilanthe, the mutant thought that this was somehow eerily similar. They were both in another magical realm, an alien world, and some truth was waiting for Lorenor within that crystal clear lake and this dangerous forest. Seeing the fact that his weapon had cleaved her leg and hefted a mighty injury, the mutant felt satisfaction. He saw her retreating as he had, and he, in turn, rotated the weapon sheathing in its scabbard. Lorenor had several weapons at his disposal and could call upon them at will. Walking over to Veatrixs' sword, he planted his boot underneath the flat end of the blade, kicked up so that the weapon rotated in the air as well, and grabbed the handle end skillfully. He was an asshole, but he wasn't a supreme asshole. He held her sword in his hand, then prepared to swim out to her position. Blood was everywhere in the water now, and the mutant had to be careful not to swim anywhere near the pools of blood.

As a predator himself, he understood the nature of the beast. Her blood was going to attract dangers from the deep sooner or later. He had to be careful before then. Lorenor found himself on the land mass that Veatrix was sitting upon and walked in her general direction. More blood trickled down his mouth, he wiped again. That open cut on his bottom lip wasn't regenerating correctly for whatever reason. Thinking nothing of it, the mutant rotated her weapon in hand once more so he could hold the cold steel in his hand. He handed it, hilt first, towards Veatrixs' general direction with a grin on his face. "What good is a warrior maiden without her sword?" Lorenor asked, he was being very sincere. Though he had the heart of a monster, he had the soul of a gentleman. Lorenor placed the weapon on the ground before Veatrix so that she could take it at her own will. "You are doing well so far. Let us continue. Let's give those bastard Monks a good showing." Still wearing that hideous grin, it was clear that the mutant had an ulterior motive here.

He was trying to lead a revolution against the Monks. The Monks, at least certain sects, were the enemy. Lorenor knew this. As part of the dual wielded coin, the Corone Empire was only one face of the coin. The Citadel of war and destruction was the other side. Lorenor didn't want to see the destruction of the Citadel, he wanted to see the deaths of the Monks of the Order. According to Lorenor, those who followed Lord Draconus were in cahoots with the greatest enemy Althanas had ever known. A god of War, a false God of War. Through Veatrix Bane, the mutant would develop his army, an army fashioned after a fist. After a red fist. After a Red Hand. The old glory of the Red Hand would be known once more. Ithermoss' memory would live on. Lorenor's cloak flapped in the wind as he took a step backwards. The Red Hand symbol seemed to reflect the sinking sun's light making it shine with a glorious halo. Lorenor's visage had a certain proud image to it. Though he was a servant of N'Jal, he had a code of honour.

Lorenor waited for the girl to stand so that the battle could be on much steadier ground. It was time for the girl to inflict injuries on the mutant. He moved into a tight combat position, sword in hand, and stood there motionless. Clothing moving with the winds, ripples in the baggy pants he wore. "N'Jal moves me now. Commands me. She says that we can take the title of God of War away from Lord Draconus. She says that we can show these Monks what a battle is truly made of." Again, he strangely found himself thinking about previous battles in the Citadel. Specfically, he thought of his battle against Xos Xilanthe. The Machine he had seen in that encounter was a heresy to everything that Lorenor stood for. He'd known true psychological trauma that night. This time however, he was fighting on fair grounds. No tricks, no clever illusions. Just two warriors in this dance of war. Lorenor kept his eyes on Veatrix as he waited for her. His entire mannerisms had a certain regal nature about him. "Lady Bane. I feel I owe you an apology. When I first saw you, I didn't respect you. Now that I've seen your power, I have an intimate respect for what you are capable of. You are a skilled warrior. Let us see where this goes." With that, the mutant allowed her ample time to recover from her injuries.

He wanted to defeat her at full strength...

[Veatrix]

“You got me real good,” she called out, dragging herself further away from her opponent.

Retreating away from Lorenor seemed like the only thing that sprouted from Veatrix’s pained mind. All her focus was being brought to the two wounds ailing her body – blood was gushing everywhere, and the water was dyed a deep scarlet from her escapee swim. It didn’t seem like the wounds would be healing any time soon, which severely handicapped Veatrix. Moving itself was a challenge, let alone fighting for her own survival. Plus, her magics were slowly draining, and her mind was too cluttered with paranoid thought of Lorenor’s possible brutality.

Of course, Lorenor was a very unpredictable fellow.

Planting his foot underneath the flat end of Gainsborough, the warrior kicked up to bring the steel short sword flying into the air, where he expertly caught it. The two pearl inlay glinted in the sunlight, waving a hopeful light at the half-Elf. Handling it like an adept swordsman, Veatrix, although pissed and in pain, was impressed – just the simple weaponry acrobatics was enough to make her think twice about rushing him again. Also, that plan didn’t work out the first two times, a third time definitely wouldn’t be a charm.

Effortlessly swimming out into the lake and on to the land mass that she had retreated on, Lorenor emerged on to the island. She noticed that he specifically avoided the places where she had bled, where her blood had joyously freed itself into the lake waters. Placing Gainsborough on the ground, the metal called out to its rightful owner as it felt the cool earth on its steel bodice. All the while, Lorenor had a violent grin plastered upon his ugly visage, a grin that only hinted at some sort of hidden plan. The warrior was a dangerous fellow, Veatrix had to be totes more careful.

“What good is a warrior maiden without her sword? You are doing well so far. Let us continue. Let's give those bastard Monks a good showing. N'Jal moves me now. Commands me. She says that we can take the title of God of War away from Lord Draconus. She says that we can show these Monks what a battle is truly made of.”

Sucking up the pain in her thigh, the half-Elf bent down and hastily grabbed her sword, going into a quick defensive stance. Standing tall, she grunted at the throbbing pain, but dwelling on it wasn’t going to win her the battle. She wasn’t going to take any more chances. Lorenor’s pretty words were of no use in the battle – Veatrix also didn’t understand his esoteric references to “Draconus” or “N’Jal” or “Gods of War.” She might not have been cultured enough to understand, but this mattered little to her.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Veatrix seethed, wiping her sweaty brow with her weapon arm. “But if you want to fight, I suggest you pick up the speed.”

Tough words for someone on the brink of unabashed defeat.

[Mutant_Lorenor]

Nodding at her words, the mutant's face became expressionless once more. He gathered together his typical facial expression. The only noticeable feature was concentration and calculation. Preparing to strike once more, the mutant gathered himself for the task at hand. He felt miserable, his clothing was heavily soaked in dirt and water. Every movement was weighed down by the heavy clothing. It did not help matters that they were fighting in the daylight hours. At this point in the game, Lorenor just cared about surviving considering he was at a distinct disadvantage. She wants to kick things up a bit huh? Very well then, that can be arranged. He stepped forward, feeling the uneven nature of the ground beneath. As a land mass, the small island was virtually uninenteresting. It was almost identical to the land masses surrounding it, and was only roughly about fifty feet from end to end all together. It was raised considerably above sea level. Several trees grew on it along with several different types of bushes. There was really no time to examine the nature of these elements.

Beating down his back, Lorenor was tired and growing weary at the sun's constant assault. He covered the distance between himself and his opponent quickly in what felt like an eternity's time. Being able to sense only about roughly ten feet in diameter, the mutant had no way of sensing the threat that lurked beneath the surface of the water. A darkened form was approaching the island, drawn to the blood that Veatrix left in the lake. Lorenor couldn't see. Outside of his sensory array, the world was a dull gray form with many shadows. In truth, he was seeing the Anti-Firmanent whenever he looked beyond the attached psychological repercussions of reality itself. Seeing the Anti-Firmanent, the mutant could see the various shades and espers within this area, mostly animal avatars. Where the bodies of the fish lay, blood stained the ground and a distinct smell of rotting seafood filled the air. Lorenor had to physically cringe at that since he cared not for the sea-faring monsters. He was a land-dweller at heart and was well out of his element.

Once he was in front of the girl he pondered what to do next. He was physically and emotionally tired. The triple maneuver he'd pulled earlier was more taxing that he had realized. Seeing that she was on the verge of defeat now anyway, the mutant wanted to savor the next few moments. Rotating his weapon skillfully and focusing on what was going to happen next, Lorenor attacked. He skipped forward a pace or two and lunged with all of his skilled training. He was in the Citadel for a purpose, and fighting these magic-wielding opponents was a great test for him. She was on the verge of claiming victory when Lorenor managed to just barely eek out a fighting chance. Under normal circumstances, Veatrix Bane would have had Lorenor's number. She was the stronger of the two, the mutant made no mistake about that. Despite that, the mutant was well aware that there were still a few cards he could play. His magical ring begged for use, but he held that power at bay. His necklace begged for use as well, but those abilities would require great concentration.

He hadn't time to prepare such power. So instead, the mutant had to improvise at the task at hand. Lorenor wanted to be certain that he had defeated Veatrix Bane utterly. It wasn't a matter of principle, it was a matter of survival. Currently, she was an enemy and that meant that he needed to destroy her. As those thoughts filled his head, the mutant prepared himself to land a killing blow. Planning ahead, he was preparing a two-pronged attack. Lorenor sent a quick strike the general direction of her left shoulder at approximately a forty-five degree angle. The tip of his blade caught an incoming breeze and moved quickly. Before he would potentially strike her, the mutant did something else. Using a bit of his own song magic, he released the power of his damascus sword. Lorenor yelled out loud. "Command Line: Engulf!" And the temperature in the air increased as Wizard's Fire came rushing from the soul of the sword. The blade glowed red as the power came rushing forward licking at the wind. A burst of Wizard's Fire flowed from the blade towards his opponent. Once again, he couldn't aim such power. He was taking a gamble. He was merely hoping for a hit of some sort. From there he could plan a finishing blow if things went his way.

[Veatrix]

A simple nod was all it took for Veatrix to realize that the next move belonged to Lorenor. He was a beast of a man and countless times during their battle she doubted herself – very rarely had she done that. Her face was a fragile mask of toughness barely supported by her own self-draining confidence in her magical skills. That seemed to be the only thing effective against the warrior, as both her physical strikes rewarded her with two painful wounds, both gushing of blood. Lorenor’s ugly visage was one of calculated concentration, one that symbolized intense discipline and power on his part.

This discipline was not good if the half-Elf wanted to win, let alone survive the battle.

Despite that, both of them looked and felt haggard, their fierce attempts to wound and hurt each other had drained both their energies quite potently. Veatrix could feel her last droplets of magic slipping away from her –one or two spells would have likely been all she had left of her body’s magic pool. She was tired, and queasy from the loss of blood, and her confidence had been shaken – three things that were immensely important in any battle. Though the half-Elf couldn’t be sure of Lorenor’s own fatigue, the way he looked, he probably would succumb to tiredness soon enough.

That would be her only advantage. Silver eyelashes squinting from the brightness of the stance, Veatrix gripped Gainsborough hard.

Lorenor, black dreadlocks dancing wildly in the wind, quickly sent a strike to her left shoulder, powerfully bringing down his Damascus sword. His aim seemed true, but there was something oddly unexpected from the attack. Bringing Gainsborough up to parry as a reflex, Veatrix realized that Lorenor’s attack wasn’t meant to be blocked physically. The wind around the Damascus weapon began swirling with heat. Somehow, from deep within the sword, fire magic bubbled up.

“Command Line: Engulf!”

Lorenor yelled as a ball of pure fire, unadulterated flame, came barreling at Veatrix, who was only a swords-length away. The fire ball screamed to burn. It was coming closer, and closer, and closer. Veatrix, doing the only thing that came to her mind, screamed out.

“Oceania!”

Quickly bringing her unarmed left hand to the general height of the fire ball, her water magic activated almost instantaneously. The half-Elf could literally feel the magics hastily leaving her body as her spell casted. The lake waters just a few feet away rose into the air like a snake, slithering towards Veatrix’s direction. Under her command, the small amount of water, maybe not even a full bucket, came to her aid. At the truest moment, the water collided with the fireball, only inches away from the half-Elf’s body. Due to the extreme heat of Lorenor’s fire magic, the water evaporated quickly, but not without extinguishing the flames. But because of the unexpected elemental clash, and the sheer closeness of the magical attack, Veatrix was thrown to the shoreline of the small island. Her clothing singed at the fire attack’s power, leaving her white shirt and black corest burnt amber and bloody. A distinct grunt of pain could be heard escaping her soft lips. Blonde hair flailing in the air, and her body bleeding and helpless, the half-Elf landed brutally on the sand shore, her body half-submerged in the shallow waters.

[Mutant_Lorenor]

It happened so quickly that the mutant had little time to react. Once again, her magics were able to intervene. Lorenor couldn't help to be impressed by her level of mastery with her archaic skill. The mutant saw an explosion of brilliant magical energies flowing through the air, crackling this way and that. A mixture of elemental energy created a sizzling burst. Blue elemental energies mixed with red elemental energies disturbed the natural wind. Ripples of air danced about in every possible direction through Wizard's Fire and Wizard's Water in every which way. Intense heat and intense moisture was suddenly flung in Lorenor's direction. Arching outward in every direction for roughly twenty feet, the energy burst through the air. A mixture of elemental properties, the mutant attempted to block the incoming scourge with his damascus sword. The energies burst against his sword, which attempted to deflect much of the magics in the air. All though, his blade glowed with the property from within, even the masterwork nature of the weapon could not save it.

A thunderclap filled the air. The sound of a loud explosion flowed across the blade rendering the weapon useless for the remainder of the battle. Lorenor saw energy swelling from the core of the weapon. He screamed loudly as energy burst from the weapon towards the mutant's fragile form. Fire licked at his skin, as water energy slapped against him with the torrent of a tidal wave. Lorenor knew that this was a direct causal effect of the two elemental opposites colliding against one another so suddenly. The mutant was knocked off his feet as Wizards' Fire and Wizards' Water wrapped around him in burning tentacles. Lorenor felt the energies damaging him to the point where his skin burnt and some of his flesh was being burned off his body. Lorenor screamed the entire time as his weapon burnt with the same energies. The mutant rolled quickly across the ground and made his way to the water of the lake. Energy continued to wrap itself around the mutant, burning his clothing.

Some of his clothing mixed with his epidermis. The Endless, under pain of its own, could not protect Lorenor against such a devastating assault. Feeling the cold water wrapping around him, the mutant saw steam flowing from his person. Magical energies still ripped across his body causing increased damage. Almost on the point of death, the mutant dipped himself in the water. He felt the energies quenched and subside. Passing like a breath in the wind, the energy was diluted. It formed a sort of colored water around him as his own blood flowed out from underneath his burnt, scarred flesh. Lorenor had heard of such a phenomenon before, and it was an event known as Manna Radiation. Seeing the steam as well as feeling it, the mutant looked around as he tried to assess the damage. His sword was still in his hand, but it had lost much of the precious lacquer. The magical energies flowed across the blade. Damascus was known as a great conductor of archaic energies, but it could not absorb energy from magical attacks very well. Especially energies of that level of magnitude.

Lorenor screamed for a moment longer as he clutched his chest in agony. He dipped his body underneath the surface of water. Cold water flowed around him like a living entity. He could see out under the water for about ten feet. He could see many of the organisms in the water, the girl had been thrown the other direction. Having a few precious moments to recover, Lorenor had one immediate emotion: hate. Quickly, the hate turned to rage. The girl had caused him a tremendous amount of pain and she was going to pay for it. Before that moment, the mutant had seen her as a mere opponent. After that moment, he now saw her as a girl who was trying to kill him. The mutant knew he had to step his game up or risk death. Drawing his Prevalida dagger now, Lorenor was prepared for the remainder of the match. His entire upper body was exposed, dark flesh revealed after the terrible burning. Lorenor dashed towards the girls' position. Able to sense her more than he actually saw her, the mutant rushed to end the match. But then, something happened. Something extremely unexpected. He saw the girls' terrible condition and something in his black heart wrenched. I feel sorry for her...what the fuck!? He looked at her and decided that he should sheathe his dagger. Walking over to her position, the devastated mutant reached his hand out to her...

"Come on let me help you out of the water so we can finish it."

[Veatrix]

Unfortunately for Lorenor, Damascus didn’t seem to be the best conductor of magic, as Veatrix watched the warrior recoil from a violent magical torrent from his own weapon. The glowing sword was a powerful tool to inflict pain upon the enemy, but quickly became a weapon of self-destruction. The elemental collision of fire and water magic attacked the Lorenor through his sword, burning almost all of his upper body’s clothing, revealing an unnatural grey skin colour. While Veatrix lay half-conscious on the shoreline, her body half-submerged in the lake’s cool water, Lorenor seemed to relish in the water’s low temperatures, dipping his whole body in relief. Letting out a fierce cry of pain, the half-Elf winced.

After a few precious moments of cooling his body down, Lorenor turned to the half-Elf with hating eyes, seething anger burning through them like his weapon’s fire magic. Drawing a small dagger from his sheath, the warrior lunged at her desperately. His evil face expression only told that he wanted to end the match, and quick. Veatrix, still as stubborn and stupid as always, tried to drawn upon the last remnants of her magic. Raising her left hand indignantly, she attempted to conjure up a spell, any spell, when a simple magic spark escaped her fingers. Eyes widening at her mana’s impotency, she realized that she had nothing left to fight with. Sure, she had Gainsborough, but it was no match for strong Damascus – the steel would simply bend and snap.

But, to Veatrix’s surprise, Lorenor suddenly sheathed the dagger, quick as it came, and gave her a pitying look.

"Come on let me help you out of the water so we can finish it."

Veatrix hadn’t even noticed how bad she looked. Gazing halfheartedly at herself, she saw bits and pieces of heavily burnt clothing. Her sword wounds still bled, not as much as they did when first inflicted, but blood trickled down to the waters of the lake. Her blonde hair was a mess, damp with water and decorated with sand and earth. Her translucent wings looked lifeless and broken, as their previous glow simply translated to a dull light.

Even though pain throbbed throughout her body, even though her mind had completely given up on her, even though her soul was scared skinless of enduring any more pain, Veatrix’s character scowled at him. No way in hell would she accept help from what should have been her victory. Slapping his darkened hand away, Veatrix, sit kneeling powerlessly on the beach, made for the water. She didn’t even make it half-way to the next landmass when she felt a hard, ripping tug on her right leg.

Nothing really made sense to Veatrix after that.

A huge grey creature violently pulled the half-Elf down to the depths of the lake. All she could do was desperately paddle up. Gainsborough was dropped, the steel short sword sinking rapidly into the depths of the lake. She could feel the strength of the creature digging deep into her skin. It squirmed and chomped upon her leg, ravenous. She tried punching frantically at the creature, knocking her fists as hard as she could on its snout. Veatrix’s head bobbed in and out of the surface, her blonde locks spread wildly in the blood-tinged waters. When her head was brought underwater once more, the half-Elf saw a gigantic great white shark, maybe 15 or 16 feet in length, mouth and teeth biting down powerfully on her small leg. Reaching out her hands for something, anything, Veatrix pleaded for escape.

Everything was a watery blur.

[Mutant_Lorenor]

All he could do was watch in a mixture of awe and terror. Something big from the depths of the lake came up underneath his opponent to snatch the battle away from the mutant. In all accounts, the mutant should probably have done something. But considering the nature of the threat, Lorenor stood terrified at the awesome beast before him. Seeing a gigantic well-spring of radiant manna energy and life-blood, the creature from the deep was visible to the mutant only on his infra-red scale. Lorenor watched the creature's brilliant aura mixed in tandem with the girl's brilliant aura. Her aura was slowly dimming due to the nature of the struggle. Water, blood, and energy danced everywhere. Across the Anti-Firmanent, Lorenor could see a huge shadowy creature that angrily looked at him from the deep. As if to say, "you're next meat." Having the good sense to step out of the water, Lorenor stepped backwards and out of the lake. He climbed upwards looking at the scene of carnage before him. There was naught that he could do. Watching the struggle, the mutant simply watched on like a voyeur.

Lorenor clenched his fists tightly. He kept staring waiting for the beast to finish the job at hand. He felt extremely small compared to the ravaging creature beneath the waves. Her screams filled his mind. On the Firmanent, there was nothing he could do. On the Anti-Firmanent, there was something. Seeing what was happening across the Anti-Firmanent, he saw that her soul was being displaced by the act of such a violent death. Terrible wraiths from the Anti-Firmanent wailed at the screaming sound of her soul in agony. Lorenor saw this act as several creatures began to sweep in on Veatrix Bane. The mutant could not allow her soul to be robbed. Acting on the Anti-Firmanent, Lorenor rushed forward across the solid lake. In the physical world of Althanas proper, it would appear as though Lorenor were in a trance of sorts. If you were to ask him after the battle, Lorenor would not have been able to explain what had happened. Something about the physical act of the girl being eaten before the powerless mutant traumatized him to his very core.

The psychological trauma served to sever the mutant's astral presence from his physical presence. Already insane, the mutant was capable of detecting many layers of reality on a whim. Most would question such a level of psychosis, but the mutant knew his reality was truth. He walked across the frozen lake of the Anti-Firmanent. Completely still, the waters had no movement and he could see various creatures just below the surface of the water. Those beings were the true nature of reality. Every creature had an esper-form and the mutant understood this instinctively being a creature of undeath. Lorenor made his way to the battle between Veatrix and the great white shark. He ignored Veatrix for the time being, instead focusing his attention on several creatures that were swooping down on their position to attempt to rob Veatrix of her precious soul. Known as Wraiths, the creatures wore black hoods to cover head that were hidden in the dark. Their bodies were covered in flowing robes and cloaks. Lashing out in the wind, the cloaks whipped out like a group of gnashing serpents.

Individually, the creatures were a terrible sight to behold. They gave off cold auras, and were able to affect the physical environment around them. In the real world, the lake began to freeze at their mere presence. This might offer Veatrix a fighting chance, or at least a chance of escape. As a detached individual, Lorenor prepared to attack the incoming creatures. One of them manifested an elemental blade of some sort. Conjured from the dark, the blades were fine and double-edged. They were masterwork in quality. Lorenor wielded his own masterwork quality weapon, and it was made out of prevalida. Affecting the temperature in its own right, the weapon had a cold aura and was capable of ice-elemental slashes. Swinging the blade, Lorenor intercepted the incoming attacks with some degree of skill. Seeing the intruder, the wraiths temporarily ignored Veatrix Bane and gathered their numbers against Lorenor himself. Prepared, the mutant reacted quickly to what was going on. His intercepted attack brought the face of the creature about an inch away from his face.

Hissing audibly, the thing came in dreadfully close. All that Lorenor could see was the living manifestation of the dark. Without really understanding why, the mutant released a burst of the kinetic energy from his plasma discharge gun. In the daytime, he had only roughly two bursts. This was his last charge of the weapon and so, it moved back into its proper socket within the Aegis Bracer. Lorenor saw that the Wraiths were knocked in various directions from the central axis point of his attack. Seeing the effect of the kinetic energy, the mutant suddenly wished he had several more bursts remaining. Deciding that he'd over extended his luck, the mutant moved in towards the nearest Wraith. Acting quickly, he stabbed downward with his prevalida sword. The Wraith yelled in anguish, twisted and writhed underneath the weight of his weapon, and vanished into thin air. Lorenor saw that the other Wraiths stared at him, as if considering their next move. Lorenor waited for them for a moment but was shocked to see them retreating deeper into the Anti-Firmanent leaving the girl alone. Making a hasty retreat of his own, the mutant returned back to the physical plane.

***

As reality settled back in on itself, the mutant assessed all that he had done. The lake was now frozen over in roughly a ten yard diameter in every direction from the central position of Veatrixs' battle with the shark. Lorenor studied the damage quickly, the shark seemed to have reacted somehow to the kinetic blast he'd released in the Anti-Firmanent. Within the Anti-Firmanent, physics were greatly different. This had been the first time that Lorenor had detached himself in such a fashion. Feeling weak from the effects of the sun, all that the mutant could do now was wait. So he sat down on the ground beneath him and watched the battle between girl and shark. What he'd seen in the Anti-Firmanent of the beast was far too terrifying to put into words. He shivered physically when his body returned to the normal plane. He couldn't completely explain to himself what had just happened, he only knew that it HAD to have happened in order to save the girl. Lorenor felt tremendous pain in his body from the act of projecting himself into the Anti-Firmanent. Given his current conditions, he was in no position to continue the battle any further. The sun had seen to that. Feeling the pain from the moment he'd taken his licks from the Wizard's Fire, the mutant could take no more. Passing out on the ground, all he could remember was darkness.

[Veatrix]

Everything after the attack was convoluted in Veatrix’s mind.

She saw a gigantic grey creature clamped on to her body. She tried to force it away, pushing at it desperately to let go, to no avail. Beady black eyes stared back at her hungrily as the shark shook its prey. Veatrix, although the pain was secondary to the sheer shock of the attack, could feel her leg ripping away. Skin and bone and muscles tore away as the sea predator humbled both the half-Elf and the mutant.

Neither of them could do anything.

The half-Elf could feel her soul spiriting away as the life force exited her body. Blood colored the lake waters red, but everything seemed to slowly darken in the half-Elf’s eyes. Black was all she could see by the end of it all. In the darkness she saw cold hooded figures approaching her menacingly, their weapons bared and evil reeking from their auras. But then, she also saw Lorenor in the darkness, fighting off one of the hooded figures – she didn’t know if any of it was real or not. Things blurred, nothing made sense.

A ripping sensation filled her leg as the shark gave one last pull. Blood darkened the waters. Veatrix could feel… or rather, she could not feel her leg. Her body was lighter, a strange sensation, since having a leg was all part of her being. She desperately clawed at something, anything, her pained screams filling the magical void of the Citadel battle. There was only one thought that reverberated in Veatrix’s mind.

This better be a really good illusion.

Her vision darkened further. Really, there was nothing else to see. Even the presence of the shark seemed not to matter. Her hands waved around frantically, but her body was slowly but surely loosing energy. It may have been my chance or by some other force of nature, but the half-Elf somehow grabbed on to solid ice. Hands desperate, she pulled herself on to the ice, dragging her body and her lack of leg on to the coolness. Body drenched in water and blood, exhausted and clearly dying, Veatrix moaned loudly. The pain was starting to set in.

In the distance, everything was unclear. All that she made out was three or four figures rushing towards her, cloaks billowing in the wind as they ran across the frozen lake. She felt hands clasping her. She felt healing magic feverishly working on her. She felt her body being dragged away while men screamed and shouted for more help and more priests.

And then she felt no more.

(SPOILS: Anything the judge would love to give!)

[Mutant_Lorenor]

Waking up in an infirmary, Lorenor suddenly screamed in terror. He sat up abruptly as visions of what had just happened coursed quickly through his mind. Attempting to piece everything together made no sense whatsoever. Shaking in fear and agony, Lorenor kept trying to grasp the severity of what had just happened. A nearby monk placed a hand on Lorenor's chest and forcibly restrained the mutant. He was able to do it effortlessly with one hand. "Be calm young one. All will be explained in time." Lorenor writhed and screamed in pain as he fought back the trauma. Understanding that he'd been close to death, the mutant couldn't stand that thought. Vaguely, he recalled various flashes of events as he struggled to come to grips with the situation at hand. Lorenor looked up at the monks with a mixture of hysteria, confusion, and absolute madness. Having seen the Antifirmanent in its pure, unadulterated form, the mutant attempted to verbalize questions. But all that came out was screams. "Restrain him." Came another voice. "He has seen reality unhinged."

"What does this mean for a Child of N'Jal to obtain such a power?" One of the other Monks asked. His superior responded. "The time of prophecy is upon us now. It seems that the rumors are true. N'Jal has returned and the Thayne have forsaken us." Hearing this, several nearby Monks worked to restrain the thrashing mutant. Having his adrenalin rushing at peak physical capacity, the mutant grabbed a monk that was adjacent to his person. Screaming hysterically, several more monks entered the room and attempted to seal it off, putting the area on a quarantine. "He cannot be allowed to become a full Spider-Magi! He is N'Jal's chosen Paladin. The child of prophecy. The anointed bringer of destruction." Said one of the newly arriving monks. "Seal this entire area off. If he escapes--" One of the monks screamed in agony. Despite all of their legendary power, there were initiates on hand. Even reading Lorenor's battle-data, they couldn't possibly prepare for the chaos of physical confrontation. The mutant had grabbed one of the initiates and bit the lad in the neck, clamping down with full strength and hanging on like a battle-hardened wolf.

Blood sprayed through the air. "Don't get too close!" One of the monks yelled as the scene became absolutely out of control. Lorenor's victim screamed in horror and tried with all of his power to escape the mutant's grasp. But alas, the initiate couldn't. Still screaming in a blood-rage, Lorenor feasted on the man's neck and trapezius muscles. Blood coursed through the mutant's body speeding up the regeneration process. Quickly breaking through his restraints, Lorenor rolled off his examination table and onto the floor. He was already in battle stance. "Restrain him at all costs, he is not to leave this lab!" One of the monks exclaimed as several of them went to their injured comrade. Lorenor's eyes danced around the room as he searched for his equipment. Memories of the initiate poured through his mind as they were transferred through the blood. He saw flashes of the attendants taking care of his physical person and attempting to restrain him. He saw several of the monks removing him from the battle chamber. He also saw where his equipment lay waiting in a nearby chamber. He only needed to escape this one.

Spreading quickly through the man's body, Lorenor's infection affected the man within a matter of moments. He transformed quickly. Lorenor turned to see the Forsaken warrior's birth and grinned slightly to himself. The plague was passed anew and that gave him an idea. As hands reached out for him, the mutant extended his arm and conjured the power at hand. He called forth the power of the plague grenade. From one central point just an millimeter away from his palm, power poured from the pores of his epidermis. A cloud of the nano-virus gathered in one solid form. An orb, and Lorenor launched this orb into the center of the room as the monks looked on with dread and fear. The mutant ducked under the bed as there was an explosion. Fire burst from the plague grenade passing a techno-virus into the air. Several nearby individuals were horribly scarred by the fire. Shrapnel also burst through the air. Pieces of sharp debris stuck in the ground and went through people's bodies passing the infection on further. In that moment, several people were infected all at once with the plague.

Lorenor felt and heard the screams as he slid back against the back wall of the room. Several individuals were not affected by the plague grenade, but were cautious enough to avoid the infected. People pulled their own eyes out of their sockets as the energy pulsed through their skulls. Bright oranges, purple hues, and reds became the energy-glow of the new eyes. The Forsaken do not need eyes to see. Lorenor hissed as he observed from underneath the dark. He was under the bed and waiting for an opening to escape. "There he is!" Someone yelled. "There are too many infected!" Another person screamed. Magics sizzled through the air now as the monks attempted to counter the effects of infection. Infection spread quickly and there were several distinct growls in the room. The Forsaken gathered their newly spreading numbers. There were three Forsaken and including Lorenor, four all together of the infected. Lorenor saw his opening and slid out from underneath the bed. Running towards the middle of the chamber, the mutant carefully evaded what he could and made his way to the door even as he slashed around himself wildly.

Lorenor's sharp claws connected with several individuals as he fought his way out of the monk's trap. Taking Lorenor's lead, the Forsaken warriors began to attack on their own as well and several battles were engaged all at once. Seeing that the door was closed, the mutant gathered all of his strength and kicked the door open. It flew off its hinges. Lorenor saw that it was knocked on the ground and made his way out in the hallway. A monk jumped out at him, and the mutant slashed quickly at his chest. It connected a few seconds later. Lorenor yelled the whole time like a banshee as he ran towards the room that contained his equipment. A single guard was posted there that reacted quickly to Lorenor's presence. The mutant did the only thing he could do. Leaping towards the man's shocked person, Lorenor reacted by biting the man in the neck like a jackal. Raising his arms in protest, the man tried to fight Lorenor back. Extending his jaws, Lorenor bit down on the man's neck. Screaming in agony, the man swung Lorenor around wildly but suddenly became very still as infection was transmitted. Landing on the ground after the wild battle, Lorenor ran into the room. He gathered his equipment and escaped The Citadel as infection began to spread...

The End.

*********

Spoil. (Locked until level 7)

Reality Walker-In certain situations, the mutant can travel between the three levels of reality. Firmanent, Antifirmanent, and Phantaria. Through Phantaria, Lorenor may access any point of Althanas by walking through one of its gates. A single gate maybe connected to any one region in Althanas, including other realities, other time periods, other timelines. All that is needed is a single pair of doors connecting to points together across space and time. For now, this is purely a questing ability. In the Antifirmanent, Lorenor can affect certain changes in the Firmanent. Currently, Lorenor can only effect ONE change per thread. He can only walk reality once at will. Reality Walker is a form of projecting his astral self into the Antifirmanent, but with extreme concentration, he can enter the Antifirmanent at will. Both the Firmanent and the Antifirmanent exact their own levels of prices upon use of this ability. This is purely an aesthetic ability and cannot be used to evade any incoming attacks. Large changes in a quest must be used with permission from the GM. This ability is at level 0 and will grow bit by bit. For now, Lorenor can only travel from the Firmanent to the Antifirmanent, or from either of those planes to Phantaria. Sometimes, Lorenor can end up in either of those three planes of existence against his will. Except for the Firmanent in that situation. With the Antifirmanent and Phantaria, certain organisms living inside those planes can pull Lorenor directly into them without trigger or concentration. In these cases, the organisms would have some sort of a task for Lorenor to complete before they allow him to escape their influence. For now, Reality Walk requires extreme concentration to maintain and he cannot take other people with him. Currently when speaking about Phantaria, time travel is locked.

[Breaker]

Battle scrolls chapter 1.
Battle Judgement

General Commentary

First of all, it’s good to be back, this is my first returning judgement. You both may remember that I’m a fairly brutal commentator, so try to take what I say with a grain of salt. Although my comments might seem rather short and two the point, that’s just the way I jot them down. If you want to discuss anything, or get additional help, I encourage it fully. Feel free to PM or IM me any time with questions or concerns.

One overall thing I need to point out is that this battle was, ICly speaking, short and boring. Despite this, both of you seemed determined to make it seem epic. Both talked about “the continuing battle” and how it “raged on” when there had only been one attack each. This was confusing, made me wonder if I missed some hidden easter egg posts. Veatrix once said that Lorenor had made her doubt herself countless times during the battle. It wasn’t countless; it happened twice. The thing is realistic fights don’t need to be long and epic. Things can still happen rapidly as the characters attack, defend, and take damage. But there’s no sense making a five minute battle seem like a decade long war.

That said, onto individual scoring and commentary.

Lorenor

STORY

Continuity ~ 4/10. You had a decent intro, but it lacked details. Who are the knights of dawn? What has Lorenor done? What is his greater purpose in Radasanth? Also, you seemed to lose your sense of direction in post 7, with the weird fisherman. On a positive note, for most of the thread you kept Lorenor seeming like a composite, composed fighter. However, the plan to start a war against the monks in post 11 came out of nowhere. Something like that should be played up from the beginning of the thread, at least through foreshadowing. This way it seems like you just threw it in there at the last moment. Also, big problems here in post 13. I had no idea what the Anti-Firmament was. At the same time Lorenor suddenly seemed to think he was the less powerful warrior, which went against all the build up to this moment.

Your last two posts really detracted from this score. What happened there was unexplained, unprecedented, frankly it seemed like you just threw it in there. If it was planned from the beginning, you need to do some serious work on your foreshadowing before getting in to plot twists like this.

Setting ~ 4.5/10. In your first post you used decent descriptions, but they were too thick. Concise writing and recognition of what is/isn’t important would make this better. You got really repetitive in post 3, re-describing almost verbatim things from your last post. I liked the hair chop in post 5, but you didn’t even mention the rest of the setting. I hate to say it, but for the most part you left the setting flat, basic, and uninteresting. In post 9 I liked the way you elaborated on Veatrix’s description, but not the way you altered it. Noting blood in the water was cool; having the fish attack each other was a direct contradiction to what she wrote, and as such made me stop reading and shake my head. Although I was glad to finally see one of you USE the setting, when burning Lorenor jumped in the water. Overall you need to pay much more attention to the setting, and interact with it more, using all five senses.

Pacing ~ 3.5/10. The “I’m bored will battle” mentality is probably the most clichéd battle intro on Althanas, but you kept me reading with the intricate descriptions and intrigue of the first post. However, the overall thickness of your writing slowed me down. Post 7 in particular really dragged by. You seem to focus on the wrong things often, and spend too much time writing long paragraphs about nothing important. Also, some of the things you write just make me stop reading and hold my head. In Post 9, “Damn it he would walk out of there with the W” could not have been more out of place. While Lorenor’s sudden motivation in post 9 made me a little more interested, I didn’t know who Lord Draconus was. I went back through the thread to see if I had missed a reference to him, and realized I hadn’t. Again, this should have been foreshadowed, or at least explained.

CHARACTER

Dialogue ~ 5/10. Some of it was good, but nothing special. You need to space your dialogue properly using line breaks. Post 7’s dialogue didn’t make much sense, and around that point it seemed like you devolved into clichéd battle one-liners. Almost all of your dialogue seems like something I’ve read characters on Althanas saying many times. In post thirteen, the internal bit “She wants to kick things up a bit huh? Very well then, that can be arranged” served absolutely no purpose.

Action ~ 4/10. Action is not just in battle sequences. Nothing Lorenor does seems significant, use action to bring him to life. In Post 5 you had a bizarre continuity error; first her blade struck nothing but air, then it chopped Lorenor’s hair. Try to be more concise in describing actions. Very little of what Lorenor did described his character. His block-attack sequence in post 9 was neat and well enacted, but the general thickness of your writing made it lose effect. I liked how Lorenor gave Veatrix a second chance, seemed true to character, but it was still poorly and vaguely described. I liked the way a combination of the sun, the swim, and his wet clothes weighed Lorenor down in post 13. But the kickback of energy when water met fire didn’t make sense to me, it might have if it had been explained better.

Persona ~ 4/10. Solid character near the beginning, but without explanation. Sometimes when describing Lor’s powers you seem to be telling me OOC. It seemed more in the vampire’s nature to attack the fisherman, not listen to him. I gave you the benefit of the doubt till later on that one, but it didn’t pan out into anything. In post 9 you spent many lines describing Lorenor’s abilities, and many more lines using them. Why not spend a few lines filling out his character, and a few with a concise description of the attack that entails how it works? Although you justified Lorenor getting tired due to the sun, swim, and soggy clothing, the change came out of nowhere. One second he seemed like an experienced analytical fighter, having defeated his opponent and handing back her blade to defeat her again. An instant later he was tired, feared he was weaker than her, and felt some animal desire to kill her as quickly as possible. Wouldn’t he have thought of that BEFORE returning her weapon? In post 15 I lost all trace of a tangible persona in Lorenor. He had the same epiphany (that Veatrix was trying to kill him), twice, and then decided against it and made himself vulnerable by trying to help her out of the water. This MIGHT have made sense with a lot of internal justification, but there wasn’t any.

WRITING STYLE

Technique ~ 3/10. You rarely used literary devices, and when you did they often sounded odd. Like in post 3, “his cloak danced in the breeze like a banshee in the wind.” Do Banshees dance in the wind? Many of your posts didn’t seem to contain even an attempt at complex imagery, and if they did their effectiveness was lost in the thickness of your writing.

Mechanics ~ 6/10. Not too many typos, but again, thick fatty writing. PLEASE HEED ME WELL. You can up your score here and in MANY other categories by EDITING your posts, running them through a spellcheck and proofreading out loud.

Clarity ~ 5.5/10. You have some major issues in clarity that also affect your other scores. Some examples... “His particular style of dress suggested a long stay at Salvar. He wore thick hides that were made of tundra-walking beasts. They were colored in the tones of the wild, browns, blacks, and natural fur colors. Fur shivered in the wind as the mutant stood there. He was very short for a warrior, standing at only five feet nothing.” This is all repetition, almost verbatim, from post 1... “He let a minute pass, and turned his attention towards her (I assume if that's okay) approaching form.” Putting OOC notes in brackets like that is bad form, and tears the reader from suspended disbelief. Such notes should be kept to PM/IM, or the end or beginning of the post.

Also, the first two sentences of post 5 are just horribly worded. Rearrange to “She quickly covered the ground between them, arriving a few paces shy of his position.” Even this isn’t that great, but it’s much better. Post 7 and throughout, you don’t need to say “his person” “his form” “his body” or “the individual”. You overuse all of these when they could just as easily not be used, or substituted for “him”.

MISCELLANEOUS

Wild Card ~ 5.5/10.

45/100.


Veatrix

STORY

Continuity ~ 5.5/10. You did a good job with backstory, but V’s motivation was poor. Well done relating Veatrix’s battle history when attacked by Lorenor, although this could be done better (more detail, for example). I Liked how you used the shirt to implicate her father. Do this more, and it will become easier as Veatrix levels up and builds an interesting history. Well done displaying lack of experience. Post twelve you did a good job of handling Lorenor’s odd dialogue: Veatrix didn’t understand, and this played naturally. When a character gets injured, go back to her roots. Maybe the fact that she can only conjure a few weak spells reminds her of when she was learning? Because of the cut-and-dry way you foreshadowed the shark, I was expecting it to attack, but still enjoyed this part.

Setting ~ 5/10. I was disappointed that you really didn’t bring anything to life, and I especially didn’t like initial OOC description. This got better as time went on. At times you did well describing the characters but the scenery slipped your mind until it was absolutely necessary (characters getting thrown.) Post 8 although more got described it fell a little flat. Remember, all five senses, all the time. It seemed that you just walked over the setting. Some decent work here in post 14, but nothing significant enough to really boost the score. You can do so much more. The shark attack was the first time I felt you really used the setting to any effect.

Pacing ~ 5/10. Although it wasn’t the most interesting or compelling battle, your posts kept me reading more often than not. You’ve got a knack that you really need to nurture. Once you refine your style I could see you pulling in some serious high scores.

CHARACTER

Dialogue ~ 4/10. At first it seemed unoriginal and flat, with no tangible characterization. After awhile a character emerged from the dialogue, but it wasn’t well defined. It is not normally good to repeat opponent’s dialogue, but the first time you did it it worked for me. Repeating Lorenor’s dialogue in post ten and twelve didn’t though, and the continued redundancy became tedious. Find ways to make V’s dialogue stronger, such as body language. Could she have panted the meditation line since she was tired from the swim?

Action ~ 5.5/10. There was very little at the beginning of the thread. Remember that action is EVERYTHING your character does, not just combat. Post six I liked the way you used action to describe contrast between the characters, but in the second last paragraph it became garbled and difficult to understand. Post 8 I liked the water tentacles, but you got a little redundant describing them and this slowed the action down. Also, Veatrix seems more like a character who would sprint lightly across the earth, not “charge through it with her feet stamping”. And, Through it? You don’t run through earth. Post 10 had the best action so far, really displayed the character’s plight. The occasional thing like Veatrix wiping away sweat with her weapon arm gave me great visuals, but this was still rather alone. She barely seemed to tend to her wounds, it should be instinctive to apply pressure even if she isn’t trained. How a character takes a hit can tell as much about them as how they attack; you could have used this much more to tell Veatrix’s story. Her reaction near the end to Lorenor’s helping hand was good; I like to see you sticking to the character rather than abandoning her to follow an obvious plot device.

Persona ~ 6/10. Again, at first it was minimal and later developed. You told the story succinctly, but I’d like to have V’s thoughts and feelings more. I Liked Veatrix’s realistic observations (ie Lorenor’s winter garb). Post 6 you got into character more, playing up the contrast and Veatrix’s relative inexperience. It came and went. Maybe the pain from the wound combined with blood on her father’s shirt could have affected Veatrix more permanently? Best stuff came through action, could have done more. As she lost blood, what went on in her head? More than “pain and scared” please. Given a second chance in post twelve, I would have liked to see Veatrix’s scheming side come out a little.

WRITING STYLE

Technique ~ 5.5/10. What you used was good; use more. I Liked “There was a gritty undertone to all his movements.” Use more, make them all this good. ThesSpider-hair metaphor was nice, but you could have continued it. When the dreadlock landed on the ground did she expect it to twitch like a tarantula’s severed leg? Get more creative and use them to spice up your descriptions. Post 10 you missed a great opportunity. I liked the fish flopping on their final resting place. This would have been a perfect place to draw a parallel to Veatrix, perhaps speak of how she was determined not to make it HER final resting place. Obviously that could be worded better. Using a snake metaphor for the water in post 14 worked very well. Do more of this. You redeemed yourself a little in post 16.

Mechanics ~ 7/10. A few typos and other silly errors. Proofread properly to eradicate this.

Clarity ~ 7/10. Post 4, third last paragraph. I thought Veatrix was drawing the Damascus sword, had to go back and read Lorenor’s post to figure it out. There was some garbled action at end of post 6 where I wasn’t sure what was happening. Avoid long, thick descriptions of action because it slows the pace and makes the reader forget what’s going on. Otherwise, no problems here.

MISCELLANEOUS

Wild Card ~ 6.5/10.

TOTAL ~ 57 /100.


Veatrix is victorious!

Rewards

Veatrix gains 2000 EXP and 550 GP
Lorenor gains 400 EXP and 150 GP

Lorenor also gains his spoil, however the details of this skill will be completely at the discretion of the moderator who looks over your level 7 profile.

[Taskmienster]

Exp and GP added!