In the hands of a Giant Dwarf. (closed)

[Nightstalker]

The city was awash in the gleaming rays of the sun when Nightstalker pulled into town on King Tristam’s wagon. Now however, clouds were gathering, and it was only an hour later, and Nightstalker was left to his own devices.

Eyeing the citadel from a distance, he decided he wanted to go try his hand there, after all, what did he have to lose? It wasn’t like the fight with the goblin war boss he had just came from a week previously, a war boss dead set on kidnapping a Scara Braen princess using stolen Alerarian technology. He called it a tank, and when its magical core exploded, the energies attached itself to Nightstalker. He felt special now. He felt, different.

Perhaps that was why he really wanted to go to the citadel, to find out if he was still the same old Nightstalker. He paused at the gates, leaning against them and staring up at the impressive heights of the citadel. He had heard stories about the arenas inside, and wondered if they were real places, or simple illusion. He thought of the stories of the dead coming back to life, and doubted if they were really dead, or simply hanging on by the barest thread.

Finally, out of sheer curiosity, a monk approached him.
“Sir, if so many doubts plague your mind, why not simply try it for yourself and find out?” the dwarven monk asked.
“You can read minds too?” Nightstalker asked, utterly astonished that anyone could so perfectly know the thoughts in his mind.
“No, but I am rather adept at reading body language, and yours is practically screaming at me that you doubt the order and its citadel.” The monk said grinning.
“Now that’s a skill I’m going to have to learn. Right after I find a suitable teacher for my magic.” Nightstalker said.
“I’d be delighted to help you out with that. As it turns out, I know an aging Akashiman wizard who was also a feared ninja. He’s the one that taught me the basics of reading body language. He’s completely insane, but he’s the best teacher you could possibly find. But before I give you directions to Master Hokkaido’s Pagoda in the Comb Mountains, you must first do me the honor of fighting an opponent in the citadel. Come young ninja, I know the perfect arena for you.” The dwarf said.
Nightstalker followed along, convinced the monks actually knew everything, and so was not surprised when the dwarf knew he was a ninja.
---
The Arena itself was rocky and hard, yet appeared soft and looked like flesh. He looked at the closing door behind him, and it disappeared, revealing a walkway that looked like an arm, he followed it with his eyes to reveal a wall that looked like a face. There was movement in the grey distance, and he saw giants moving about. With a start, he realized he was only an inch tall, and in the palm of the very dwarven monk who first approached him.

He stood out in his black stealth suit, his black hair waving in the wind. He drew his Wakizashi and stabbed the ground with it as hard as he possibly could, to see if this arena was a construct, or if he had actually shrank down to size and had been put on the dwarf’s palm.

“Little friend, stab as hard as you like, it is as the tickling of a feather to my strong hands.” A giant voice boomed around him.

Nightstalker sat down, and shook his head.
“So the arenas are real. What manner of men are these that change reality with such ease?” he asked himself. He felt muscles shifting beneath him, and saw the dwarf’s fingers closing together, the thumb swinging over to the side of the hand.

Suddenly Nightstalker let out a good laugh, even as the doorway appeared before him, and his opponent appeared.
“What an Oxymoron, a Giant Dwarf!”

He stood up and took in his opponent, smiled, and sheathed his Wakizashi, for now.

[Graph]

If I described the setting incorrectly, let me know.

“No, thanks.”

The Citadel monk grinned moronically up at Demonica, his brown robe fluttering unpleasantly in the wind. Absently, the demon wondered why anyone would choose such dysfunctional, distastefully revealing garb. “And, ah… Fix your robe.”

“But, Miss,” the monk pleaded, his voice annoyingly shrill. “Surely you, a member of the satanic race, could see the value of a good fight?”

She shook her head, sliding one hand into her hair. “Pass. I had a long night. I don’t really remember it, but I know it must have been something.” She paused, clawing at a few stray strands with her fingers. “You ever want to kill a demon, just give ‘em a hangover.”

The monk kept smiling, clearly not willing to let up. “You have a lot of tension, Miss. You’re considering my offer, even now. And, believe me… There’s nothing like a battle to clear the sinuses.” He chuckled quietly.

Demonica sighed, the man’s voice quickly worsening her headache. “Look. If I do whatever it is you want me to do, will you shut the hell up?”

He nodded, his teeth reflecting the sunlight. “Ahh, Miss. I knew you’d see it my way.”

“Just… please… make this as painless as possible,” the demon hissed through her teeth. “I’d like to go visit that pub again around noon.” She detangled her fingers from her frayed locks, and yawned. Her head throbbed, and she felt achy and sore, deeply regretting the hazy festivities of last night. She groaned, the idea that she intentionally did this to herself almost as painful as the pounding in her skull. Her tail dragged limply on the ground, and her wings were folded haphazardly against her back. She looked altogether bedraggled, and, on some level, she liked that – it led people to expect a snarky attitude and lazy demeanor.

The monk beckoned her on, leading her down a series of passageways. He said something about it being a challenging, strange arena, but Demonica could care less. She hadn’t really put much thought into this, aside from restraining her urge to murder the monk (or at least close his robe). It was only as they stepped into the arena, the sun glaring harshly in her eyes, that it really registered with her: She was going to have to fight someone. Probably kill them. And she was in no condition to do so.

She moaned, angry at herself, the infernal monk, and the world.

The arena itself was kind of an odd place – flesh-colored stone, and a faint throbbing beneath her feet. She would have asked about it, had the monk not left her so quickly. Curious and bored, Demonica shuffled about her surroundings, occasionally breaking into a run to keep herself awake. Unconsciously, she unsheathed her talons.

After doing a quick search for a potential opponent, she curled up on the floor, ignoring the pulsing of the ground. She began to sharpen her claws on the cream-colored stone, dragging the sides against the rock. Sleep ebbing at her strength, she closed her eyes, the friction of her talons barely keeping her conscious.

Without warning, the ground trembled fiercely, and a horrifically familiar voice boomed down over the demon. “I doubt you’re hurting me, but please stop.”

Her eyes snapped open, and she shakily stood, her body quaking with adrenaline. Slowly, she scanned the horizon, before glancing up. Her gaze traced what appeared to be the ceiling… up a plateau… to what looked like a face.

“Oh, shit. You’re…”

“I am nothing more than the arena, Miss. If you’re afraid of anyone… it should be the person trying to kill you. Are you ready to fight now?”

She nodded dumbly, more pliable to the wishes of a giant than a dwarf. A flesh-toned door appeared before her, and she pried it open, dread welling in her stomach like a lead weight. It lead to a similar stretch of stone-like skin, and she walked through the doorway, readying herself for whatever lay before her.

It was… a human. As she looked over her opponent, Demonica let out an audible sigh of relief. She made eye contact with the man, smirking subtly. She unfolded her wings, and cocked her head, letting her canine teeth catch the glint of the sunlight. It was an effort, if a probably futile one, to scare him.

“Alright. I’m feeling generous today, so if you’d like to opt out of this, we’ll both tell our friends we won, and leave the bloodletting to the next batch.”

[Nightstalker]

“You look like the results of a night of hard partying. I doubt you realize we’re standing on one of the monk’s hands, that we’re about one inch tall, and not in an arena at all, but the front entryway, as close as I can determine. That aside, while I appreciate the rather novel concept of a kind demon, or demoness, offering someone the chance to flee in a cowardly manner and tell whatever story he or she wishes, I cannot believe it to be true. So if you’ll pardon me, I think I’ll just snap your neck instead since you obviously do not wish to fight.” Nightstalker said, flexing his muscles and loosening up.

A demoness not wanting to fight? It was such an obvious trap that only a fool would fall for it. No, not Nightstalker, not this day at least. With a decidedly arrogant smile that belied his confidence, he casually strode over to the demoness with the appearant intention of snapping her neck, his arms rising to his chest.

That was what he wanted her to think. As soon as he got within range, he suddenly kicked for her chest, his leg coming in from the side. Since she clearly didn’t have a weapon, he had no reason at the moment to use his sword, and so it remained in it’s sheath on his back. He wondered privately though if she had demonic magic, or if just what exactly her means of defense would be.

[Graph]

Demonica narrowed her eyes as the man (a ninja or thief or something, from the look of him) spoke, decoding his unconventional speech pattern. So, the giant was not a giant – rather, he had simply shrunk her. Somehow, that peeved her; was she undeserving of an actual arena? Or was he simply trying to annoy her further?

Of course, those thoughts were brief, quickly replaced with a cursory sizing-up of her opponent. He was human, yes, but he seemed to have an excessive air of confidence. While humans were notoriously egotistical, this one seemed… like he’d earned it. He was well-muscled, and Demonica eyed the sword sheathed at his waist, wondering why he hadn’t drawn it.

He was more formidable than she’d hoped.

“…So if you’ll pardon me, I think I’ll just snap your neck instead since you obviously do not wish to fight.”

She hadn’t really been listening to his banter, once he’d explained his thoughts on their present location. But the phrase “snap your neck” has a way with grabbing someone’s attention.

“You know what? No.” Demonica glared at him, shocked and enraged by his insolence. “I don’t particularly want to kill you. But if you really, really—“

The man was already reaching for her throat. She pressed a palm to his chest, stiff-arming him and forcing him to keep his distance. She scowled at him, staring daggers into his eyes.

And then he kicked her.

She never saw him coming. Out of nowhere, the heel of his foot slammed into her ribs, knocking the breath from her. She staggered back, barely keeping her balance by extending her wings.

“Shit… That really hurt! That’s gonna bruise, you stupid bastard! What the hell was that for, anyway?”

Oh, right. He didn’t surrender.

She wiped her lips, eyes meeting his after a brief inspection of her wound. “Fine. You wanna play it like that? I’ll make you regret it.”

Her claws unsheathed, she lunged at him, aiming to stab him near the heart and rip through his flesh.

[Nightstalker]

(permission to bunny granted)

Nightstalker grinned as he saw his enemy lunge towards him.

Rookie mistake, Roshi would have knocked me flat if I tried that.

Nightstalker knew a counter, simple, basic, yet effective. Turning slightly, he grabbed her hands and used her momentum against her to turn her lunge into an over the shoulder throw, throwing her over his right shoulder. As she was thrown, her claws raked against his chest, close enough to deal a light wound and draw first blood.

Nightstalker held his chest and growled in pain as he turned to where the demoness had landed a few feet away.

Perhaps I should just draw my blade and end this.

[Graph]

Yup, he asked me very politely.

Demonica stared blankly up at her attacker, still processing what had happened. She lay on her back, wings sprawled out behind her in a futile attempt to regain her balance. Her head throbbed, and she felt somewhat lightheaded. She blinked slowly, taking a few seconds to recover.

The man turned to face her, clutching his chest. His hands were faintly bloodstained, and she glanced down at her own claws. The talons on her right index and middle fingers were glazed with fresh blood. So, she’d hurt him, somehow? Her mind dulled by the shock of impact, she guessed that the man had thrown her, and cut himself by accident.

She shook her head, as if trying to clear the haze over her thoughts. “Uhhhnnn… You’re fast… I didn’t even see you coming.” She staggered to her feet, dusting off her skirt with the palms of her hands. (In retrospect, there was no dust, as the fleshy stone on which she stood wasn't stone, but it was force of habit.) Standing up seemed to wake her from her dazed stupor, and she ruffled her own hair, desperate to ward off the hangover.

Her eyes flicked briefly over to the man’s sword, noticing it for the second time. “…Why don’t you use that thing?” She pointed at its sheath, taking a moment to admire the weapon. “I hate martial artists, anyway… Get their kicks from cheap shots and sucker punches.”

Her confidence already returning, she strode calmly up to the man, reached out to him, and flicked his shoulder with the tips of her fingers. The demon smiled.

This human was quite demure by nature, even when trying to kill someone. She hoped merely to fluster him into using the sword - A weapon whose strikes she could more accurately predict.

[Nightstalker]

Nightstalker grinned and stood up a little straighter. He decided he’d take a moment and explain the sword, all apart of his plan.

“Well, this sword I got in the Akashiman afterlife from Lady Koriko herself. It was imbued with the blood of a monster from The Abyss, a horrifying mind melting creature with more legs than I could count, and as many eyes. Of course I wasn’t afraid, not for one instant. I fought that sucker and threw it back into The Abyss. As the creature’s blood was pure acid, this sword has that power, and can slice through anything. If you really want me to use it, then for your viewing pleasure, I shall draw and use my sword.” Nightstalker said, feeling confident in his victory. After all, nothing said he had to actually use the blade. He drew the blade, its glassy black finish shining beautifully in the light. It appeared to be made of an exotic metal, but in truth was actually just common steel.

Nightstalker spun the blade once and held it at the ready. His chest still ached, but the sensation had dulled enough for him to concentrate on business. He wondered if the demon could catch everything he just told her. This man she was fighting had been to the afterlife and returned. He had died once and now lived again after fighting a creature few of even the mightiest warriors could hope to ever see. That he was standing here now before her, only lightly wounded meant trouble.

“Never fight a master ninja like me without an army at your back.” Nightstalker said, lying about his own degree of skill to throw her off even more.

He towards her, spinning once on the ball of his left foot as his right lashed out for her and brought him to a complete circle, his hands extending the Lotus Blade for a deadly slash to outright cleave her in half.

In the very afterlife he mentioned only moments before, Nightstalker’s deceased father and master watched his son’s fight with interest and wondered how long his luck would hold out. Though he had to admit the plan seemed like a good one. Unnerve your opponent and throw them off their battle strategy, thus opening up holes in their defenses and offenses.

[Graph]

Sorry this took so long. && I’m so angry at myself… I thought I could go ONE battle without using an inner monologue. But, no… The italics call to me.

The demon was quiet as he spoke, curling her tail around her ankles. She took a cautious pace backwards as he drew his sword, relating his tale of heroics with unnecessary gusto. Her gaze trailed from the man to his weapon, reevaluating him as an opponent.

If I heard him right, he’s not only killed some huge freak of nature, but he’s also been to some form of afterlife… An undead ninja master? Shit.

No, no, don’t panic. He bled; he’s mortal, to some degree. As for the sword…

She narrowed her eyes as he finished, scowling at the mention of an army at her back. Quietly, she scoffed. “Do it, then—“

In a brilliant display of sharp reflexes, he lashed out at her torso, aiming to slice her belly in half. Gasping in panic, she sucked in her chest, cringing as the blade tore through her corset. Her vision fogged momentarily, and she bent over, wrapping her wings around her in a sort of cocoon. She clutched at her abdomen, the trim of her gloves soaked with her own blood.

Oh God oh God oh God am I dying?

She blinked a few times, trying desperately to calm herself. Pain raced through her, the wound burning intensely. Adrenaline slowed time, and she was suddenly aware of every insignifigant detail of her surroundings – the unceasing throb of the giant’s pulse, the pale flesh tone of the ground, the slight musty smell that hung in the air, the strained tendons of her unfolded wings. Shaking with fear, Demonica willed herself to pry her hands away.

Her dress had been ripped open across the torso, the cotton drenched red. The wound itself was bleeding less profusely now, the pain subsiding to a small degree. Though it was difficult to tell, the cut looked superficial.

Okay, maybe he just nicked a blood vessel or something… It hurts, but it isn’t very deep or wide… Oh, I feel so stupid! My amulet, of course… I won’t die from this…

She was still for a few minutes, collecting herself, shielding her body with her wings. Pressing a glove to the laceration, she slowed the bleeding, the panic of shock fading.

He didn’t cut through me.

Liar. It’s just a sword. He probably made it all up. …Just have to bandage this. Then he’ll pay. I’ll kill him. I’ll kill him.

Admittedly, though… That ignorant monk was right.

Nothing like a little bloodshed to cure a hangover.

[Nightstalker]

Nightstalker’s grin faded away, lips pursed together tightly. No longer was he a jovial man certain of his victory, but a killer. He had been here before, in this place, in this time. Seeing the frightened demon before him brought to mind his other kills, and they all ended the same way. Frightened faces begging for mercy, angry faces searching for his death, confused faces that couldn’t understand what was happening to them, they were all the same.

Now they all lay dead in their own private graves somewhere. A few lay buried in mass graves. Soon there’d be one more face to add to the short but growing list. One more searching for revenge.

Nightstalker closed the distance, moving with all the speed he could muster, bringing his sword up to slice her vertically through the middle from the bottom up.

[Graph]

The pain sharpening her senses, Demonica heard the echo of the man’s footsteps. Her fingers quickened by adrenaline, she tore a strip of fabric from the hem of her skirt, and tied it around her waist. Tightening the makeshift bandage until it burned, she listened, tracking his approach.

Wait. Wait. You’re hurt. You can make the most of this.

He was bragging earlier about killing a monster, so he might be one of those “heroic” types. I can use that. If I play my cards right… He’ll think he mortally wounded me, and pity me. I can win.

If I’m wrong, though…

She unfolded her wings, dragging herself tremulously to her feet. Her shoulders sagged, and her tail fell limply to the ground, accenting her already bedraggled appearance. She let out a soft dry sob, glancing tragically up at her attacker.

“I don’t even know you’re name, but… I don’t wanna die. I’m not perfect, I know… Hard to get along with… A drunken failure. But, surely… Even I am deserving of redemption?”

[Nightstalker]

Words were wasted on Nightstalker when he dropped charm and went silent. He might be many things, but underneath it all, he was a professional.

That didn’t stop the memories from coming across his mind.

“It is not ours to give mercy, or to condemn. We are merely the tools of fate, nothing more. Never be swayed by a pretty face and a tearful plea, for those are the most dangerous traps of all.”

He remembered his first female victim. She knew a little too much for some rich man’s comfort, and his father had taken ill after accepting the mission. Nightstalker did it for him. She begged for her life, and right as Nightstalker was considering it, she rushed him with a dagger to kill him.

So as his citadel opponent begged for her life now, he made no effort to head them, save beyond the lack of knowledge concerning his name.

“Then let all the world know, you were slain by Nightstalker.” He said, and swung his blade for a killing strike.

[Graph]

Then let all the world know, you were slain by Nightstalker.”

Shit.

Dropping all pretense of pain, she straightened herself, extending her wings out in front of his blade. She averted his strike to the trailing edge of her left wing, and his sword sank in, her flesh quickly slowing him down. Hissing in agony, she clenched her jaw, watching a small stream of blood trickle down her wingtip.

She screamed through her teeth. “Rhhhhhh! You bastard! You were gonna kill me?” Her tone was incredulous, as if shocked by his hostility.

That priest conveniently forgot to tell me killing your opponent was legal…

Then again, it’s not like taking a life really means much these days.

As the thoughts ran through her mind, she cringed, lowering her stance to absorb the impact of his blade. It dug deeper into her flesh, her bones just barely stopping it. Howling with anguished rage, she used his momentum against him, pressing her heels into the stony ground and launching herself at him. She unsheathed her talons, reaching out for his jugular, the sword still embedded in her wing.

[Nightstalker]

Nightstalker openly laughed at her and her reaction.
“This is The Citadel after all. Didn’t you know? Death holds no sway here. Even after I kill you, or in the unlikely event you kill me, the monks will return you to the state in which you entered the citadel, even resurrecting you if need be. There is utterly nothing to lose here except maybe some pride. I pray you weren’t holding back because you didn’t know that. No, come again, and give me your all.” Nightstalker said.

Then she lunged for his jugular.

Now this is more like it.

As she neared him and his jugular, he decided to try the unorthodox method of simply punching her, and so formed a fist to deliver a fierce punch to her face.

[Graph]

Sorry this took so long; I was at a party myself last night.

Nightstalker’s knuckles buried themselves into the demon’s jaw, and her teeth sank into her own tongue. Her sharp, somewhat intimidating canines were now a hindrance, and she hissed, spitting a mouthful of blood over her shoulder. The rest of her body seemed largely unaffected by the punch, the damage localized to her face, but it hurt. She recoiled, wiping her lips with the back of one hand and edging away from her opponent.

It’s been a while since I took a hit, I guess. I thought I was tougher than this…

Though I’m sure whatever I did last night isn’t helping me now.

Still, I can’t help but wonder… If I can’t die here, why did Nightstalker go on and on about morality, and the effects of killing someone? I can’t trust him.

It must be a trap. He not only wants a good fight, but he knows that if I think I can’t die, I’ll take more chances. If I really try to win, and I mess up somehow… He’ll kill me. And if he’s lying about being revived…

I can’t afford to take that chance, even with my amulet. I don’t even know if it will work, and it’s a last resort, anyway. Killing him is a second priority. Not dying comes first.

I just hope I can remember that.

She was silent, fixing her eyes on Nightstalker. It was better to let him make the first move, and go from there. One or two blows would be enough to debilitate him, and she could make her escape.

[Nightstalker]

She’s terrified of dying. Well, I guess I can take pity on her; I’ll make her first death a surprise.

“I’ll tell you what; we’ll make this a submission match. First one to make the other give up wins.” Nightstalker said.

Then he casually strolled over.

“Let’s shake hands on it.” He said, a devious plot already forming in his mind

[Graph]

Demonica narrowed her eyes, suspicious of his change of tone. “To be honest, I thought that was the entire point of these matches…”

He extended his hand, and she simply nodded in reply, drawing an X-shape over her heart with one finger. Demons did not commonly shake hands in Serkan culture; crossing one’s heart was an acceptable form of promise, and it was in bad taste to make unnecessary or forced physical contact.

“Let’s just… make this quick, then.” She yawned against her will. “I’d… really like a drink, maybe some bandages.”

[Nightstalker]

Nightstalker flashed another grin. It was easy to enjoy a battle when things were going according to plan.

He leaped towards his opponent with the intent of wrestling her into submission, preferably in a head lock, so that he could simply snap her neck and kill her that way after she submitted.

[Graph]

Eyes widening as Nighstalker leapt for her, Demonica ducked out of the way, shielding herself instinctively with her forearms. Unthinkingly, she darted towards him, slashing up at his throat with her talons. A victorious hiss escaped her pursed lips.

Keep it up, Tritestalker. I can win this.

[Nightstalker]

It was all going so well.

Nightstalker felt her claws rip through his throat. He fell to the floor, his life blood spilling over the arena.

It was just a lucky strike.

Nightstalker blacked out as he died.

Nightstalker awoke to find himself face to face with the dwarf in a healing and recovery room. The Dwarf held out Nightstalker's sword to him. A Map was attached by silk ribbon. Nightstalker unfurled it, and looked at it. He recognized the valley, and realized he knew the Pagoda, he had simply always thought it was empty and abandoned.

"But before you go rushing off, realize that while Master Hokkaido can teach you all he knows, it's useless unless you put it into action. I advise wandering south to Concordia Forest and becoming apart of the Bandit Brotherhood. Their back and in force this time. With them, your skills will definitely be put to the test. They can teach you other things too." The Dwarf said.

"I can't believe I'm hearing this from a monk." Nightstalker with a slight chuckle.
"The Order is absolutely neutral. We only seek to help you become the best you can be. Have a nice day." The monk said as he left the room.

In the distance he saw his former opponent.

"HEY!" he called out and rushed up to her.
"Your pretty good you know, if you actually took the time to learn a formal style of fighting, you'd be outright deadly. I'm going to go meet with a Ninja master in the Comb mountains after I go south to inquire with the Bandit Brotherhood to see if they need the services of a Personal Assassin. Would you like to come along?" Nightstalker asked, proving in the process that Death really was reversed at the Citadel.

[Graph]

Finally, finally, contact.

The demoness grinned as her claws snagged the skin of his throat, tearing a wound through his windpipe. The gruesome feel of ripped-open flesh brought a sick, perverse sort of pleasure to her, and she gave him an insane, fanged smile. He gagged on his own blood, the red liquid drenching her skirt and the flesh-tinted floor. Nightstalker collapsed, all strength lost.

She had won.

But the elation of victory was short-lived. As the warmth faded from her victim’s corpse, Demonica grew suddenly faint. She panted and shook, the seemingly random feeling of weakness quickly overtaking her. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she took a tentative seat on the bloodstained ground. Her consciousness wavered, dizziness obscuring her thoughts.

What… the hell…

…a trap…?

Oh God no…

Please…

…don’t wanna die…

…so tired…

Unable to fight the lethargy any longer, she blacked out, collapsing limply into the pool of her enemy’s blood.

She awoke just as suddenly, in a sort of recovery room. The exhibitionist monk from before stood over her. “Sorry about that, Miss—“

No time for you. I need to get out of here.

Demonica stumbled shakily to her feet, her wings trembling to keep balance. She bolted out a nearby door, chasing the sunlight, desperate to escape the Giant Dwarf Monk. Sprinting at top speed, she charged down the adjacent road, unwilling to hazard a backwards glance.

“HEY!”

Oh, no. No. No. All I want to do is curl up in the dark corner of some bar and have a nice drink. That’s all I ask. But, no, I have to keep… interacting… with humans…

Groaning audibly, she turned to face the person yelling at her, eyes already rolling with dismay. “What?”

It was Nighstalker. The Nightstalker she killed.

Oh. I guess he wasn’t lying…

"You’re pretty good you know, if you actually took the time to learn a formal style of fighting, you'd be outright deadly. I'm going to go meet with a Ninja master in the Comb mountains after I go south to inquire with the Bandit Brotherhood to see if they need the services of a Personal Assassin. Would you like to come along?" He seemed enthusiastic, and genuine.

She sighed, pressing her thumb and index fingers to the bridge of her nose. “Look, it was… no, fun isn’t the word… Horrifying. Yes. It was horrifying. But I have plans, you see…” She trailed off, scanning the horizon over his shoulder for anything vaguely tavern-shaped. “Big plans. So, thanks, but no thanks.”

Not bothering to wait for a reply, the demoness shoved Nighstalker gently aside, and strode towards the outline of a somewhat familiar, bar-like building.

Sorry about the conclusion; I didn't know we were submitting yet.

[Taskmienster]

In the hands of a Giant Dwarf


I was given two separate requests. The first was asked for a quick condensed rubric, the second request asked for a little bit more depth to the commentary. As such, I’m going to be using the regular rubric, minor commentary for Nightstalker and a little bit more in-depth commentary for Graph. The way I comment will be a quoted passage, with a number in brackets following it. The number corresponds to the post that the quote in comment came from, and following that will be my commentary on it. If either of you have any questions feel free to ask me, and I’ll be more than happy to help with what I can. Please, keep it to PM’s for now, since I don’t have a steady internet connection in order to get onto AIM. If you would like to wait for me to get on when I can, do so, but it won’t be regular and it won’t be long when I get on. Other than that, the scores will be put this way: | Nighstalker | Graph |


[Continuity] | 4 | 5 |

_Both_

Almost nothing from either of you as to why you did what you did, nor what exactly the point of this battle was. I’d suggest putting at least a little bit of story into the thread. This can be difficult with random battles, but if you make them or join them you can always put a little thought into them to make them something more than just back and forth fighting without anything of personal interest thrown in. I’m not saying make it something elaborate, detailed, and extremely difficult… just a bit of background, why you were in the Citadel, and what the goal of your visit was (as well as a bit of whether you accomplished that ends or not).

--Graph-- I’d suggest that you put a little more into the overall feel of the continuity. I know that’s vague, so here we go. There were a few posts that you wrote that you had mention of your characters wings. Till those posts, I didn’t know you had wings. Continuity can take into affect the overall appearance of the character, which can include their background, and why they look the way they do.

--Nightstalker-- In the 9th post you seem to continue an overly elaborate character portrayal that makes you seem like a character that’s gone through countless battles and killed countless people. It may be in the background, but for as much as I was given I could hardly believe that the character could be so weak and have gone through so much. You play the character like a monster of a person, but from what you write and what your character expresses you are playing a person with an illusion of grandeur… a level 15 character with the power of a level 0. It’s a bit odd to read, and makes it all seem rather droll and anime-esque. In the long run it’s not great without a background story to support it.

[Setting] | 5 | 6 |

--Graph-- I really enjoyed the extra element you put into the battle. Its always refreshing to see an opponent come into a battle and not type the exact thing or just take what was explained and put it into your own words. It’s always best that when you go through and type you either expound upon the setting more, or continue to express it in different ways. You don’t have to make it amazing an elaborate every post, but just remember that you shouldn’t forget it when you get further into the thread, battle or quest.

[Pacing] | 5 | 5.5 |

_Both_

-Nightstalker- Your posts seem brief to the point of missing necessary information… which in turn kinda just slowed down the thread. A lot of necessary information that could potentially boost the score is absent and in turn the overall appeal of the thread is lost on such short and quick posts. However, you seem to keep the pace of the thread quick and moving at all times.

-Graph- Your posts are the exact opposite. You seem to write your posts in a way that adds a bit more to the overall story, advancing it in a different way. Its not as fast paced as your opponents, but you kept the pace rather well. What was different that stood out the most in regards to pacing for you was the fact that in your posts you have a good deal of really short paragraphs that are at times nothing more than just a sentence. In the end it tends to detract from the overall pacing of the thread due to the fact that each post is filled by multiple sentences split up. I’d suggest that you take the time to write at least a little more, or pull the sentences together to make a single paragraph. It’s best to keep different ideas separated, as is the customary rule for grammatical writing and paragraph construction, but each sentence represents an idea. Its not incredibly difficult to work those different ideas into each other to flow well… or even to expound upon the general idea that the one sentence expresses and add more in.

[Dialogue] | 4 | 5 |

--Nightstalker-- You are a bit long winded to open the 3rd post, a bit less would be great. Also, what was said makes the character feel like a bloodthirsty killer, though you didn’t seem to portray him that way to begin with. Your dialogue in the 11th post was so out of place that it was another feel of illusions of grandeur. It was not only far too much of a sense of longwinded-ness, but it was also completely contrary to the character that you had begun to create. In the 13th post you have an extremely long winded paragraph of dialogue that is far too much for the middle of a battle.

--Graph-- I would suggest that you please don’t retype what was just said in the previous post. Feel free to respond to what was said, but you shouldn’t quote the exact thing. The best suggestion I have for this sort of thing is to go ahead and type a personal reaction to what was said, you can do that through just regularly writing something about your character’s reactions, or even using inner dialogue to express Graph.

[Action] | 5 | 4 |

--Graph-- It seems that some of what you did was rather out of place. Remember to be careful about what you respond with your writing. In the 3rd post Nightstalker says that the sword is in his sheath on his back, you say it’s on his waist in the 4th post. Also in that post you said that he threw an attack towards your throat, which he didn’t do in the previous post… you shouldn’t add attacks that weren’t done, since that’s a bit of bunnying. However, since it seems that you both gave a little bit of permission to bunny, as I think all fights flow better with, that’s not terrible and neither is the “closed dodges”… which are what I can only think to call them. They’re like closed attacks, those that you have permission to land due to the allowance of bunnying…

[Persona] | 4 | 5 |

--Graph-- There were a lot of points that you could have added more to the personality of the character that you didn’t take advantage of. You don’t just show your persona through your writing, but through your dialogue and your actions/reactions to what is happening around you. I would have suggested a lot more in regards to the reaction to the story that you were told about the sword. I got a little bit, but not enough to really gage the overall character from what you wrote. Take the time to write a bit more, push the edge and make it a little more interesting. There are always chances to express the character through writing, which all in all is never a bad time to show persona… but you can do that with dialogue just as much, as well as how your character reacts to the situation around them.

[Technique] | 3 | 4 |

_Both_

You both need to work in a bit more advanced technique. There was no real use of metaphors or similes, both of you could have added a lot more into there without any of it being out of place. Also, the way you both write is a lot of technique, though maybe not advanced, and I took that into consideration when judging this as well.

--Nightstalker-- At the end of the 7th post you have a spurt of a sentence about your parents watching from the underworld. It’s an interesting analogy, though possibly overused, but in the end it was placed in a very awkward place. There was no need for it, and it didn’t contribute anything to the overall story, the post, or that paragraph.

[Mechanics] | 7 | 7 |

--Nightstalker-- You capitalize a lot of words that shouldn’t be, and don’t capitalize those that should be. Wakazashi shouldn’t be, Citadel should, Giant Dwarf shouldn’t be, Order should. That’s just from the first post.

[Clarity] | 6 | 8 |

--Nightstalker-- Please, I’ve said it before, and it’s been ignored every time… but split up the dialogue into its own paragraph. Put another line between it all and it will be MUCH easier to read, and I won’t get messed up by it all being one clump.

Also, Citadel should be capitalized, it’s a proper noun used as a name for a place.

~ “The Arena itself was rocky and hard, yet appeared soft and looked like flesh.” [1] ~ arena shouldn’t be capitalized. Other than that, how is something rocky and hard but looks soft?

[Wild Card] | 6 | 6 |

{Score}

--Nightstalker-- 49

--Graph-- 55.5

{Rewards}

--Nighstalker-- 150 exp | 100 gold

--Graph-- 500 exp | 100 gold


End Notes:

I’d like to say that I saw a lot of improvement from Nightstalker from what I’ve seen in the past. There were not nearly as many mistakes, and I can see you getting better as you go. Continue working on everything, and I can see better scores and more interesting threads in the future for you.

Graph, welcome back and congrats on the completed thread. There is a general thing with you that’s off, but I hope my comments help a lot with that. You should be able to do well as you go, shake off the rust and get back on things and you’ll be doing well soon enough!

[Taskmienster]

Exp and Gp added