~Reunion~

[Alberdyne_Cormyr]

Kireg Lukas had proven to be an interesting companion. A few months ago, Dyne started on a journey of self-discovery. He'd long left his family and household behind. Focusing on the gathering of materials needed for Blacksmithing, the youth got himself a job at a locale workshop in Radasanth City. For a long time, Alberdyne Cormyr focused purely on the job. Sweat glistened off his back, muscles bulged with each carefully calculated stroke of the blacksmith's hammer. An Apprentice, the youth had left his former life at The Citadel behind. Deciding that he no longer cared for battle, Alberdyne Cormyr instead focused his sharp mind on the art of Blacksmithing. In those past few months, the youth learned a great deal about the art.

Currently, Alberdyne Cormyr worked on several swords for a client that frequented the workshop he was a part of. Favoring his education as a Blacksmith, Dyne studied to become one of the greatest Blacksmiths in the history of Althanas. Already, Dyne was recommended by The Mastersmith of the locale shop for membership in The Freemasonry Guild. Dyne was thrilled, he had a steady job, a place to call home, and the capacity to put food on the table. What more was there? Dyne knew that he was ultimately creating tools of warfare, he was not an idiot. Such a craft only constructed more death and destruction in an endless cycle which gave birth to enemies like Xem'Zund.

When cycles of hatred and misfortune spread, Althanas as a whole was thrust into an age of terrible darkness. It was within The Second Age of Darkness that the youth found himself in. Corone was no longer a city of Heroes, instead, it had become corrupted at the core. The sword of ancient Hero named Radasanth even became tainted with its own growing darkness representing the corrupt hearts of its citizens. Civil War waged through the land of Corone, still burning today. Brother fought against Brother, and whole Clans waged espionage-based skirmishes against one another in a self-defeatist formula that could only bring about one ultimate outcome.

Disaster.

Even with news of the fall of Xem'Zund, and the return of one of the greatest heroes of all, Devon Starslayer, the world needed its heroes. Without them, the lifeblood of the innocent was free to be spilled by demons that lurked in the living dark. These matters were oft on the youth's mind as they were on other youths like him. Many had chosen to become political activists speaking out against the crimes of a government gone mad. No longer was Radasanth the land of the free, and villains were reward where heroes should have been. It was a world that was turning upside down on itself, left meant right, no meant yes, and other fundamental truths no longer seemed to matter. However, Dyne Cormyr kept to the fundamental belief systems his family taught him from an early youth.

After all, once upon a time, Alberyne Cormyr could have been an aristocrat of exceeding importance. However, he chose to help out The Corone Rangers instead in secrecy by providing them weapons and material support for the war effort. There were men who would be titans, but Alberdyne Cormyr did not care for the glory. He was happy working for the rest of his days. But Fate, had other plans.

Returning to Kireg Lukas, Dyne's thoughts remained on the recently discovered Phantom. Most Phantoms seemed to ask Dyne to complete this or that task, but never has a Phantom before Kireg asked to accompany Dyne in his adventures. Dyne first met the Phantom approximately six months before his current job in the workshop started. Meeting Kireg Lukas had proven an interesting event. Once, after Alberdyne Cormyr was kicked out of The Order of Ai'Bron, the youth wandered aimlessly without purpose. Heart-broken by the loss of purpose, Alberyne Cormyr nearly was consumed by a growing dark in his heart. At the point where his insanity nearly consumed, the youth encountered The Phantom on a walk through Concordia Forest.

At that point, many Phantoms were beginning to gather resentment towards the living. When resentment and envy gathered, The Phantoms became demonic Wraiths capable of inflicting great harm upon the living. Hearing the noises of battle as he made his way through Concordia Forest, the youth found a single Phantom bravely fending off several of these Wraith-warriors in armed combat. Dyne worked to defeat the Wraiths and assisted The Phantom in combat. As a reward, The Phantom revealed his identity to Alberdyne Cormyr and agreed to protect the youth for the remainder of his days. That Phantom's name was Kireg Lukas. Alberdyne Cormyr learned the nature of The Phantom's life. In life, the fellow was a famous Mastersmith working out of Jadet. When The Civil War broke out, Kireg Lukas fought alongside a brigade out of Jadet.

Supplying weapons and equipment to The Corone Rangers, Kireg Lukas had the potential to become a great hero. However, all that as lost during a battle that took place between militants working for The Corone Empire and the defenders of The Corone Rangers. Kireg Lukas and several others of his ken fell in the battle due to a betrayal by the commander out of Jadet. It seemed that The Empire's pocket-books were deep and its influence spread far and wide. Even into the hearts of the resistance. Betrayed, Kireg Lukas avoided final judgment within his time in The Antifirmanent and returned to The Firmanent as a Phantom. Seeking a purpose, the two men's paths crossed that night. So now, The Phantom gave Alberdyne Cormyr significant advice in his Blacksmith training and aided him in all other matters.

***

I understand the nature of Phantoms. To me, the dead are suffering, I can hear their wailing cries at all hours of the day. Neglected, the dead often turn against the living becoming nightmarish monsters that I have effectively termed Wraiths. Wraiths are The Scourge of the living and are often in the employ of villains like Xem'Zund. It has become my personal desire to rid our world of Wraiths and make it safe for the living once again...

Alberdyne Cormyr had just finished his day's work. With his best skill-level producing various works for the war effort, Alberdyne Cormyr found himself working in his journal. The Phantom named Kireg Lukas assisted the youth as he tabulated various expenses and put together the cash for the month. Various projects he was completing paid a certain commission after taxes as was the law of Radasanth. A tax-paying citizen, the youth did not want to give The Empire any reason to hunt him down for tax-evasion. The tax-man was a cruel entity often capable of acting alone and without approval from the ruling body of The Corone Empire. Dyne just wanted to live the rest of his days...

***

There was a knock on his door. It was late in the night when the knocks came and Dyne looked at his companion, Kireg Lukas. The Phantom had an equally stunned expression on his face that anybody would come visit Alberdyne Cormyr at roughly 3:00 A.M. Sleeping skyclad due to the summer heat, Dyne answered the door naked. Attempting to conceal a yawn, the youth looked at the stranger before him. It was a troop that represented The Order. Immediately, Alberdyne Cormyr wore a scowl, and a deep resentment towards The Order became visible. Dyne made a movement to slam the door in the face of the female monk that stared at his skyclad form. Dyne felt a powerful hand stop his movement as the door was held slightly ajar.

"Wait." The woman began. "Alberdyne Cormyr. We have an invitation for you for a reunion."

Dyne growled. "If you do-not leave I will call security..."

"It's from someone you met very recently." The woman interrupted. "Both of you had a battle recently against one another and the battle went splendidly. Your opponent at the time wishes for a rematch." The woman said.

"Why? I don't fight anymore. I'm just a Blacksmith." Alberdyne Cormyr said, feeling a weight on his shoulder. Dyne knew that the fast-talking woman would not give up so he sighed. He saw her staring at him with hungry, pleading eyes. Dyne shook his head. "All right. But understand something, I'm done with your Order. I was trying to become a skilled monk but your elders chewed me up and spit me out like trash the first chance they could. I want no parts of that ever again. If this is a neutral skirmish that does not involve me fighting for The Order, I'll do it."

"It will be a neutral battle." The woman said. "It is simply a reunion between two long lost friends." Dyne saw her shrug. "Think of it as a chance to prove your skill level."

"I'm no longer interested in such matters." Dyne said. "I have nothing left to prove." He added. "However." Reaching forward, Dyne suddenly put his hand on the woman's chin. "I cannot reasonably say no to such a pretty face. Dyne saw her looking down at the erection between his legs. This made the youth grin. "Consider this a favor to you." He said, his confidence showing through. "I will do it for a kiss." Dyne added, he looked at the woman with an interesting expression on his face.

He saw her face struggle against the idea for a moment. Yet, to Dyne's surprise, the woman accepted. Feeling her body suddenly press up against his own, the woman kissed him with great passion. Dyne returned the favor as they exchanged body heat. The kiss lasted for several moments as the pair gave in to basic carnal hungers. It was Dyne who ultimately broke the kiss.

"That tasted sweet." Dyne said closing his eyes for a moment. "Give me a few minutes and I shall be ready."

***

With the monk escort, Dyne already figured out who was going to be his opponent. He had the invitation in his hand, written in his foe's perfectly scripted letter. Alberdyne Cormyr had managed to defeat the man before, but could he do it again? He wondered. Dyne prepared choice equipment in his inventory and prepared them for battle. Receiving instructions from the monks, Dyne stood in front of Chamber Number Nine. Staring down the hallway, he wondered exactly what was the reason that Cydnar Yrene would have for requesting a second match. Dyne saw The Phantom that was his companion standing nearby to his person in a similarly relaxed position. The two were talking. To one not capable of seeing Phantoms, it would appear as though Dyne Cormyr were insane and he was talking to himself.

"Why would he do it?" Dyne asked his eternal companion. "I'm just a Blacksmith..."

"You are meant for greater things my friend. Furthermore this is a task you must complete by yourself. I cannot interfere with reunion." Kireg Lukas said carefully. "You must survive on your own."

"I have this to protect me." Dyne said carefully. He unsheathed his sword taking a few careful swipes into the air, at nothing. The grip felt familiar in his hand and his confidence grew as he held the masterwork bronze weapon. Dyne sighed. He recalled the unique fighting style of his foe from before. Turning towards The Phantom, Dyne looked at him for a long moment. "Well, if anything, I will get a little better." He said carefully.

[Cydnar]

The dance macabre played out before Cydnar as he waited patiently in the confines of the Citadel’s dome. He had appeared several times in Radasanth seeking to test his mettle but never had he been as apprehensive as he was during this visit. Loose ends were often the folly of human lives; never did he expect to be craving to be tied up in their stringent destinies. Whilst previous visits had been against haphazard go-betweens and curious swordsmen with devilish brands, it was because of one such encounter that he had returned.

He had fought amidst the Ward Stone’s power and felt the bridling arc of the azure lightning as it caressed his body and burnt the air. He expected, in all of his sycophantic and arrogant dreams to have bested his challenger with ease, but he had succumbed beneath his farrier blade and novice chances despite the favours of the gods on his shoulders. A reunion therefore was in order, to see if his opponent then could match his prowess now after all the war and trauma of being he had suffered.

Cydnar had requested an arena of a simpler construction this time, one that gave sanctuary to battle instead of shocking it into action. Gone were the great quartz monoliths and rocky terrain, replaced instead with a serene and short grass field that was as level and perfect as any a nobleman could wish for his stately abode. The blue sky swirled overheard as if a circling gravity well lay at the centre of the arena; it hummed and crackled to Cydnar's sensitive ears and prickled goosebumps on his skin with raw power. The Hummel’s dark purple robes stood in dark contrast to the vibrant yellow flowers which bobbed gently in the breeze. There were dandelions, buttercups and marigolds, although Cydnar’s sub terrain seclusion from the world of flora and fauna did not offer him the pleasure of knowing their names.

He smiled and looked up at the invisible sun, feeling its warm and its feigned direction but unable to see the magical star which the monks had created as part of their terraforming. It was magical light, and therefore it held only the illusion of illumination and none of the charm or prominence of true sunlight. It never ceased to amaze him how they crafted worlds so beautifully, how they forged planes amidst planes in a multiverses of battle. He flicked his long grey hair from his ears and set it neatly behind his ears before taking a firm grip of the hilts of his twin blades. The doors in the distance opened and signalled the arrival of his opponent.

Snarling and showing his teeth to the metaphorical wolves that prayed for blood his, Cydnar waited for Alberdyne Cormyr to enter and for the golems of the deep earth to rise in rubble and ruin to do battle alongside the avatars of forge and flame.

[Alberdyne_Cormyr]

As the past came back full circle, Albrdyne Cormyr found himself staring at his opponent. The field about him was flowery. Kneeling down before his opponent, the youth felt his knuckles rubbing against the cool earth beneath him. Dyne's powerful chest was rising up and down with each breath in anticipation of the battle ahead. He recalled Cydnar Yrene from the previous battle. Now, the man seemed changed, altered with the skirmishes of time and the ravages of the ages. Dyne stood up slowly. He was making his opponent wait. Wearing a blacksmith's outfit, the youth wore brown overalls, a belt with the Cormyr clan symbol designed on the buckle, glasses which he removed for the battle, boots, a simple hide cloak flapped in the breeze and he wore miner's gloves that day.

Staring at his opponent, the youth noticed subtle changes about the man. For one, there seemed an air of sadness that clung to the man that wasn't there before. Whatever trials and tribulations he had seen clearly wore on the man's heart and soul. Dyne carried with him, his bronze shield and a bronze longsword. He'd not yet made better equipment for himself, at this point, his combat skills needed more refinement anyway. Whence Dyne was fully standing, the youth recalled how much he hated combat. Fighting had cost him his position in The Order in the first place. Proving no match to the more exotic warriors of Althanas, Dyne looked at his feeble sword for a moment or two, then looked over at Cydnar Yrene.

Cydnar Yrene was an exotic individual. Dyne admired the man's physical stature as he moved into a combat position. Remember the colour of the man's blood from the previous encounter, Dyne decided that he was going to take the initiative attack. He was still some distance away from the fellow before him. There would be a lot of ground to cover. Without worry, Dyne double-checked it his pristine shield, moved into combat position and prepared himself for the event ahead. Perhaps feeling overzealous, Dyne sprinted at his best speed over towards Yrene's position. There was no need to exchange conversation. Dyne knew Yrene intimately from their previous encounter despite the fact that he'd grown more powerful.

As prepared as he was going to be, Dyne leaped through the air at the last few paces. Deciding it was time to show what he had learned since their last encounter, Dyne knew he had to keep a more unpredictable approach in the battle. When he reached the zenith of his movement, the youth took sword in one hand and stabbed in a downward arch towards the man's chest. Though Dyne would accept any hit against the Hummel at this point.

[Cydnar]

With a stoic stance and a firm expression of aggression Cydnar observed the young blacksmith enter the arena and kneel to touch the nature’s boon beneath their collective feet. Revulsion washed over him and hatred filled his lungs for something unnatural and odious had occurred to the young human in their intermittent months. He could sense the unbridled narcissism and power coursing through his opponent’s body but was too far away to divine the cause or source. He was gladdened that Alberdyne took the initiative with a brutish forward advance.

He slid his left foot back so that he turned slightly and contorted to the left with the movement and withdrew Freya from its sheath with a natural twist of his wrist. He span it around and set it pointing at a forty five degree angle to the ground to his left. With his right hand he kept Altheas in it's sheath but did not unveil its ever burgeoning power. Whilst he waited he calmed his breathing and listened to the vibrations of the earth beneath the man’s heavy, clumsy boots. The breeze grew slightly and jostled the flowers so that they swayed to and fro, almost as if they were shaking beneath the behemoth strength of his opponent.

As soon as he could see the whites of Alberdyne’s eyes the geomancer conjured a small sphere of quartz into his free palm and dropped it to the ground. It bounced with a hollow thud and shone with deep vermillion hubris beneath the glaring rays of the arena’s magic. During their first encounter Cydnar was too weak willed and lax in his servitude to Yrene to have noticed the presence within his opponent. Now that he was close he felt positively sickened by it and took precautions against whatever lurked beneath the simple surface. It was sorcerous, that much he knew, but the latest manifestation of sorcery could take many forms unseen or unheard of to the Hummel. He shines with malice, he thought, hissing and baring his teeth clear as day like an animal. The sinew in his neck flayed out and his eyes burned with purple fire.

Convention foretold of a simple swing or strike to come toward’s the Hummel’s readied blade, he offered it forwards slightly in open invitation of conflict. When Alberdyne rose through the air at the last moment Cydnar almost flinched with shock. Brash as ever, the blacksmith bore down on the elf with a lumbering but deadly strike. The lightweight blade seemed to fold in itself and spiral up into the bronze and battered weapon, and Cydnar’s knees buckled as the weight of the strike deposited itself full force onto the frail but finessed elf. He grunted as the wind in his lungs left him and tried to compose himself quickly enough to recover.

He scooped backwards with a liquid grace and swung his weapon out from under the the bronze blade. As Alberdyne landed Cydnar made a hasty retreat to increase the gap between them to twenty feet. His boots barely disturbed the ground beneath his feet and he made great care to not disrupt the innocent lives of the vibrant citrus flowers that dwelt in the field of war. “You still carry the beast of burden as if it were your duty, Alberdyne!” Cydnar adjusted his hair and rasped the edge of his hauberk with his free knuckle. “You are so strong and so powerful yet too blind to swing your hammer at the anvil you confess to!”

With one slow and composed motion Cydnar bent both knees to rest on his laurels and brought his blade behind his back in a reverse grip, steadying it perfectly horizontal at the same level as his waistline. His tuck shortened his height only a few inches but the tension in the muscles brought about by ‘pretending’ to sit in a tall chair kindled energy and adrenaline and dexterity in the elf’s nimble form. Smiling brightly and remembering his reasons for being in the Citadel, Cydnar gestured the blacksmith to follow up with his opening move with an inward wave and waited to spring his crystalline trap. His mouth was open naturally and he breathed heavy as the first signs of perspiration began to show. Oh to feel alive in the pursuit of death!

[Alberdyne_Cormyr]

Unbeknown to the dangers that lurked beneath their feet, Dyne's boots crunched the flowers beneath him. He felt bad for crushing them but the youth had other concerns at the moment, and that was the shifted combat position of his opponent. Instead of rushing forward, Alberdyne Cormyr decided to call his rival's bluff. Stepping several paces back, the blacksmith studied the man for a moment or two. He'd managed to block Dyne's initial attack with tremendous skill. However, the man was still bound by mortal rules. If he bleeds, I can kill him. No longer the naive youth from their first encounter, Dyne was not going to fall for a trick that would have ended him in the past. He's planning something, otherwise he wouldn't have taken that combat position like he has. Dyne heard the man's insult and flinched visibly when the man chose to insult his blacksmith career.

Don't let him get to your head. Remain calm, cool, collected. The monks are watching someplace. Regain their favor. Don't make a rookie mistake.

The invisible sun blazed on the battlefield and already Dyne was hot. He was thankful that he was dressed lightly for the occasion. Dyne possessed no current armour except for his shield which would constructed in masterwork fashion. Reflecting sunlight, the shield seemed to shine brightly with the symbols of the Cormyr Clan. A past that he had left behind. Despite that fact, the past kept tormenting the youth and The Hummel's words cut deeply like a dagger made of steel. Rising up and down angrily, Dyne's chest bulged beneath the shirt he wore. His eyes were narrowed fiercely as he studied his opponent for any clues to what he might attempt next. Having no advanced senses of any sort, Dyne completely missed the crystal-quartz object that The Hummel threw to the ground like a rotten apple.

Preparing a more defensive stance, Dyne rose his shield to cover his chest. No longer a boy that was a stranger to war, The Blacksmith had learned a great deal since their last encounter. Far from becoming a Hero of Radasanth, Dyne was content with leaving those roles for the Godhand Strikers and Letho Ravenhearts of the world. Dyne did not want the mantle of The Hero, it was against his very nature as a Blacksmith. All he wanted to do was go back to the workshop he was employed under. I cannot afford to let distractions ruin my concentration. Focus Dyne, you can do it. He thought to himself.

Taking the carefully guarded position now, the youth walked slowly over towards The Hummel. Dyne suddenly cried a warcry and prepared to strike with all the brute force he was known for. Deciding that he would focus on using his muscles instead of finesse, the youth meant to use every tactic he could in order to defeat his foe. Lashing out with his sword, the distance was covered between himself and his foe. With a basic combat stance, Dyne could feel his muscles bulging. Sweat trickled down his body in rivulets by then. Dirt was kicked up by his mighty boots and the youth stomped the earth without care. As he swung his weapon, he pulled his offending arm backwards, then about halfway through that movement, lashed out with as much velocity as the youth could hope to muster. Which wasn't much. All that the youth needed was a little luck on his side and a few successful blows. Dyne didn't want to kill The Hummel in the end...

...he just wanted to live.

[Cydnar]

A rumble in the deep seated throne of earth beneath their feet passed Cydnar’s usually keen intuition by without rousing any suspicion. The breeze carried his idyllic stare away and he righted himself fully, content that his preparations had honed and prepared his body for the coming maelstrom and clashing of blades. He pulled his sword forwards and cut it in a reverse slice across his midriff, dividing his own body from that of Alberdyne’s with a wall of a single slither of composite ore. Cydnar smiled and bowed politely as sod of earth and flower where sent flying and rumbled beneath the human’s boots.

As the human retreated slightly, perhaps in hesitation, Cydnar smiled and riled against his opponent's will with a cruel taunt.

“So callous and crude yet so vehemently your kin persevere on the surface of the world.” Cydnar rasped his taunt and pushed down hard on the hilt of his sheathed sword. It slipped from his belt and pierced the earth. He recoiled at the same time as the spring-loaded mechanism jettisoned the blade and spiralled on a foot; with elegance he caught the sword as it fell vertically, his delicate hand taking hold of the blade’s handle with perfect accuracy. He continued the momentum of his spin and spread both blades wide and formed a whirlwind of sharp pain.

He stopped facing Alberdyne with one sword pointed at his opponent directly and the other arced overhead and leering down like a scorpion’s sting. His spine curved almost perfectly and leant his weight toward's the blacksmith, his eyes followed the line of his blade to their target with a keen hatred. His robes spiralled around his body and contorted into a sea of purple waves. “I return to this reunions of enmity to settle a score of ages, to show and to teach the human who sundered the meaning of war. Care you to listen? Care you to learn?” As he spoke Cydnar’s eyes glowed a deep vermillion that was brighter than the hubris of his blades.

Freya shone overhead with a deep purple light that pulsated slowly. The boon of Yrene told the Hummel all he needed to know, and that his victory, if he did not presume it too early, would be a victory for the cursed abuse of magic and it’s abominations. With a twist of his mental will, he floated the quartz sphere into the air out of the man’s sight and twitched his head to the left. With a pull of telekinetic energy he projected it towards the back of Alberdyne’s head, and at the same time ran to meet his advancing blade.

“Will you seek redemption for killing kings?” He roared as the hematite blades crossed together and caught the bronze blade like a twig between the jaws of a leviathan. His feet almost floated over the land and his nimble and glass hammer body carried his blades with the guile and talent of the Salthias style. With a leer he peered into Dyne's eyes, and pushed with all his feeble strength against the blow that had sought to cleave him atwain.

[Alberdyne_Cormyr]

Is that hate I see in his eyes?

When his sword was intercepted by The Hummel's dual-blades, Alberdyne Cormyr grunted. He was in an obscenely dangerous situation, with his chest very close to the enemy's weapons. A harsh, metallic clan reverberated through the air between the two gladiators. Another man with more logistical combat experience would have taken advantage of the closeness. However, Alberdyne Cormyr's tactics were limited to the arts of brawling and basic swordplay. When the man moved, Dyne growled as he felt a sudden pain in his wrist. The sword was easily wrenched from his arm. Shooting up his arm like an angry serpent was the pain that immediately followed.

Despite his gifts of the psychokinetic powers, Dyne was still just a boy. Dyne looked at his opponent with pleading eyes. There was no response to any of the taunts. Dyne was clearly outclassed by The Hummel and he knew it too. At the last moment, Dyne attempted to cover his chest with his feeble bronze shield. A heavy artifact from another era, the bronze shield once served as the key tool for various armies to wage war. Against the daemons of The Demon War, the tools of the bronze age shone brilliantly against the light of the Althanian sun. It would have been no different with the current war. Dyne felt the impact of the swords against his shield and the pain shot through his body once more.

A moment later, Alberdyne Cormyr was knocked on his ass. Scrambling for his sword, The Blacksmith found it through the flowers. He barely noticed the zipping quartz crystal that shot past his body where he just was just a moment or two prior. Luck was fortune's fool. Dyne had no idea that The Hummel was capable of controlling the quartz crystals. Growling once more, the shadow of the quartz crystal passed overhead. It smashed against the ground a few feet away after gravity claimed it.

When Dyne's hand gripped around the handle of his weapon, he turned quickly to stare at his opponent. He had never let go of the shield. Dyne held his sword with both hands now as he looked up at The Hummel. Dyne took a defensive position as he narrowed his eyes. With his limited swordplay skills, the youth knew that it was only a matter of time before his foe decided to end him. Alberdyne Cormyr stood very little chance against Cydnar Yrene. The realizations of self-doubt began to settle in his heart as he waited for the end to come. He slowly began to stand but even as he attempted that, he knew he was vulnerable. His opponent had gotten too good...

[Cydnar]

The rattle and thud of the crystalline projectile sent a wave of satisfaction down Cydnar’s spine, the likes of which he had only felt after an exquisite bottle of wine or hard fought duel with a sycophant of the dart arts. As he watched the human recover and rise behind the stoic defence of his shield he took pity on him, and realised that in blind siding him he was no better than any other common criminal or assassin. Where, he wondered, is the loyalty and honour in this?

“Forgive me Alberdyne. I seek so much to cleanse my soul of defeat that I have lost all sense and purpose and honour. I am shamed and aggrieved by my actions, most truly.” He held out his hand in earnest and sheathed Altheas with a delicate ring of blade and sheath connecting. If he was to defeat his opponent it would be on more equal terms and with the passion of a master and apprentice. “Take my hand, and let us start anew with eyes firmly set on one another.”

He smiled calmly and only enough to show his normal teeth. As he waited for Alberdyne’s reaction he took silent stock of their surroundings, it felt as if something were amiss, agog and awry in the illusionary world. Between the peals of the breeze the flowers swayed more violently in the wind around them and he felt slightly nauseous. With a fluttering ocean like movement his robes billowed and cast a regal mirage over the swordsman. A deep rumbling grew to a furore on the edge of normal human hearing and slowly, Cydnar became aware that something approached. Freya began to scintillate strongly and the light of its enchantment, its natural hunger to seek out the magical wrongs of the world showed itself to all.

[Alberdyne_Cormyr]

Preparing himself for what he knew was coming, Alberdyne Cormyr felt fear for the first time in a long time. He knew that he was outclassed by The Hummel in every way, but that was not the only problem. Raising his shield up to attempt to cover himself from the dual strike of the man's weapons, Dyne growled angrily. When the strike never came, Dyne felt completely shocked, and then, words flowed eloquently from The Hummel. Blinking for a moment or two, Alberdyne Cormyr stared at his youthful reflection as it stared back at him. His reflection shone brilliantly on the back of the bronze shield that he had crafted with his own hands. Staring at The Hummel with an almost accusing glare were the symbols of the Cormyr Clan.

Feeling the ground beneath him, Dyne was cradled underneath the weight of the heavy bronze shield. Hearing The Hummel's words, there was a certain sincerity in them that he had not heard in a long time. Ever since Alberdyne Cormyr was excommunicated from The Order, his life was without purpose or direction. Perhaps, the secrets of The Hummel's Salthias combat style could become a crucial point of study for the youth. The Hummel whispered words of apprenticeship, and Dyne could not pass an opportunity to redeem himself. Peering from behind the shield, the youth looked at The Hummel for a long moment as if considering the situation at hand.

By then, the wind was blowing furiously as if a storm was on the horizon. Trees were bent at their mid-section. Dyne could see the plants beneath him struggling against the combined forces of his body weight, and the tremendous breeze. In the distance, the mountains loomed overhead as their great spires extended shades across the large field. Dyne felt dust flowing in the wind as potent as projectiles shot from ranged weapons. Some minor stones passed his shield, bouncing against it with a clang, and striking against his arm. Slashes appeared there which made the youth flinch. Standing up just then, the apprentice looked over towards The Hummel's extended hand. Of course, Dyne reached over and took it. That wasn't before sheathing his weapon in its scabbard.

"Forgive my hesitation." Dyne said. "We should find some sort of safety so we can talk further. The wind is getting really bad and we might be able to make it to those mountains over there and some caves, mayhaps." Dyne lowered his shield, and ultimately his guard. As he shook The Hummel's hand, a tremendous earth-shattering rumble shook the ground. Dyne was knocked off his feet before he realized what had happened. Hitting the ground hard, Dyne felt blood flowing from his nose. The stinging metallic ichor-taste slipped past his lips and into his mouth. Dyne tried to wipe at his mouth, but the blood was already flowing. He'd realized that something was coming. Turning towards the direction of the sound, he saw a looming shadow approaching. Dyne readied his weapon....

[Cydnar]

Praxis, the Golem of Stone and Undying Earth burst through the chamber floor with a tumultuous eruption of clods, rock and heavy earth. No sooner than their hands had shaken, they were knocked to and fro and from their feet with swift indifference. Cydnar felt the back of his head connect with the grass as he toppled backwards, arms splayed wide and face awry with shock. Safety, it would seem, would not be an easy luxury to find today.

The words he had spoken upon entering the Citadel now made a horrifying sense. He had asked for the earth itself to come between their reunion, for golems and beasts and Umbra Hulks to fight around both combatants as a metaphor for the Hummel’s wrath and anger at having been defeated, even if such a victory was rhetorical, and not literal. Something, and he realised now what, had gone catastrophically wrong with the enchantment. Reckless humans and reckless tools, consequences dire for them today!

Praxis continued to climb through the ground, its cavernous lair no longer a prison for its heavy bulk. With fists the size of barrels and fire in its maw, it stood still for two fleeting moments before driving both of his hands into the ground. Rock and twig and vine alike covered it's ancient body, bridling it's might in a prison of Y'edda's diligence. The rumble in the earth shook Cydnar to the soul, and it was only when the beast stopped that the elf dared push himself upright with a weary expression of trouble on his face. The sun shone brightly even amidst the wind and the brewing storm; indifferent as the golem to the forces of nature primal raging in its presence. “Hesitation Alberdyne is yours, now get up, and let us fight this creature together!” He pulled the sword-cane Altheas from his belt and swung it through the air and followed it with the gleaming blade of Freya.

“As brothers, we shall learn from our mistakes,” a dark fire glowed in his obsidian pupils and he spread his legs apart as a defensive and defiant measure. The golem roared once more, even at the distance of two hundred feet all other sound, if not the sound of several planes was stripped from Cydnar’s ears. He shook his head to right his senses and darted a look at his new found ally. He would take greater pride and enjoyment in fighting alongside him, than splaying his innards to the vultures of defeat. “Together, let us show the world our blades!”

With a flash of light the blade of Freya slowly became enveloped in quartz. The geomagnetic magic of the Hummel slithered into being and encased it like a wand of power in the deep winter ice. He swung it again to test its weight, roared with all his might and bore his fangs in response to the golem’s challenge. He charged the great beast head on, blissfully ignorant of the errors ongoing in the enchantment of the Citadel's monks.

Death was as real a threat now as the golem's blow...

[Alberdyne_Cormyr]

Meanwhile--

"It seems they have resolved their differences." Came a powerful voice. "He had an opportunity to rend his opponent into several neat pieces." There was a hint of disappointment in that voice. "Call the match." He was beginning to say, when there was something else. An interruption of unexpected, even dangerous proportion. As they observed in a chamber filled with many crystalline screens, the artifacts stacked in several rows upon the walls of the chamber, images flashed of all the battles going on in The Citadel at that precise moment. Suddenly, all of the screens displaying images flickered and went off. Several shocked monks stood up at the unwanted phenomenon looking to their leader for support.

"Master! We're locked out!" A neophyte exclaimed as he looked at Master Triton with a shocked expression on his face. "My Master, they are locked away from us, if we can't get to them in time..."

"Do-not entertain such a notion. Our magic is the art of Illusion, we will find what matter of deceit is at work here." Triton said. As an Elder Monk, he stood out because he was considerably younger than the other Elders of The Order. Standing at a mere 5'8" and weighing in at a solid 210 lbs, the elder had stark blue eyes and a single lock of braided hair that flowed from the back of his head. Clearly an Elder of Akashiman origins, the monk analyzed the situation carefully whilst his brethren panicked. "Everyone remain calm at once." He ordered. His robes were elegant and tailored with the artisan craft of masters. Triton observed the screen for a moment as his sharp mind considered the matter at hand. "Nothing." He said out loud. Then he looked at his companions. "Secure the parameter at once." He said. "We have traitors in our midst."

***

Dyne nodded as he regained his composure. Pain was shooting across his head from where he'd broken his nose. Blood still flowed freely, but the youth had wiped much of it from his face. Wind was flowing with angry tendrils now, whipping about dust and debris. In the distance, the mountains overlooking the field beckoned his arrival. There was a promise of safety within the caverns hidden therein. First, they had to resolve the immediate problem! He looked at his newly acquired master as the fellow ran towards the earth-bound creature. Admiring The Hummel's courage, Dyne's eyes twitched at the corner. Briefly, he pondered running. That would have been the logical thing to do...

Another series of thoughts passed through his head as he considered the situation at hand. Why weren't the monks shutting the arena down? Things were going all wrong. Dyne knew that was the case. Gripping his sword tightly, Dyne devised a plan. He had one trick up his sleeve that could possible save both of their asses. Turning towards The Hummel, Dyne took off in a sprint at The Golem. Fire flowed from its maw and somehow, the air in the area around them seemed to get that much hotter. Dyne spotted infernos in the creature's eye sockets. Perhaps, a weakness lurked there where the rest of the body was comprised of stone and vine. Dyne ran at best speed, which wasn't very impressive. I have to hustle here!

Stomping the ground heavily, Dyne pondered the strange affairs that were unfolding. His mind was sharp, quick, he was capable of learning at an accelerated rate. Seeing the example of his counterpart, Dyne prepared his strategy.

As Dyne ran, The Golem reacted to their dual-assault. Super-heated magma, concentrated in the form of a breath-weapon was launched in their general direction. Liquid fire meant to smite them both flowed from the maw of the beast. It yelled out-loud disorienting Dyne ever so briefly. As the temperature increased, Dyne felt and heard a loud ringing in his ears and everything became far away. He lost sight of his mentor. Looming overhead was the giant creature made of stone and earth. Wondering if the bronze in his weapon was enough to pierce stone, The Blacksmith began to doubt his own courage. Magma flowed in his general direction scorching the air itself!

Dyne reacted at the last possible second. Sweat was pouring down his brow, he knew he could not outrun the magma. So, he moved quickly to the outer edge of the magma-blast. Spinning in place, the youth brought up his bronze shield to cover the rest of his body. Moving his momentum forward, waves upon waves of several thousands of pounds of magma coursed through his shield. Dyne screamed. Liquid bronze melted through his epidermis and then began to burn through his tissue. Quickly, he lost his shield and his arm. Dust and ash flowed from his deltoid/scapula region as his arm was vaporized. Dyne's body was thrust in the opposite direction of the magma-stream and he hit the floor hard, rolling several feet.

He screamed the entire time. I cannot survive another attack like that, we have to take this thing out quickly! Dyne sucked up the pain he was feeling, on the verge of faint. Dyne clutched at the injury after he sheathed his sword. Staring at The Golem with a hate that equally matched the magma-eyes, Dyne took several angry breaths and unsheathed his weapon. There was only one trick up the brawler's sleeves. Running in a dead-sprint once again, Alberdyne Cormyr began to prepared his pychokinetic powers for effective use against the creature. A green halo manifested around the youth as he prepared his plan. Once he caught up to the giant Golem, it was only a matter of pressing his luck. Dyne knew he was done for. In the last few paces of the mad-sprint, Dyne leaped brilliantly as high as he could.

P/K energy surrounded the bronze sword giving it a nimbus. As he reached the zenith of his leap, the youth aimed to the best of his capacity. He suddenly propelled his sword in the general direction of The Golem's left eye with as much strength as he could muster. Charging the projectile with a P/K Bolt, Dyne screamed with all the rage he could muster. Just as Dyne attacked, The Golem was beginning to release another breath-weapon assault. With Dyne directly in the line of sight of The Golem, there was no hope.

"Master! Destroy it!" Dyne managed to yell one last warcry...

[Cydnar]

Like lightning bound in flesh Cydnar leapt to one side to avoid the magma and scowled. It bubbled and hissed, tearing at reality itself in spite of its simplistic nature. Fire burnt, and he heard the screams of the burning. He snapped his gaze back to Alberdyne in time to see the rage of the golem strike his shield arm and winced. He hung his head, unable to come to terms with defeat so swiftly. To his surprise, between the thundering footfalls and mammoth advances the human managed a small form of a miracle despite his injuries.

He traced the path of the sword through the air and smiled with deep seated pleasure as its blade impaled the golem’s left eye. As it snapped it’s head back and screamed with a voice that defied the ages, the Hummel saw his opportunity and launched once more into a run that took the wind from his lungs and almost caused him to glide across the delicate grass and blooms beneath his feet. Even standing at a little over twelve foot Cydnar could see the fire inside pour from the socket like blood. Seemingly the golem was unhindered, as it opened its mouth once more and the glow of the fire in its gullet grew and grew and…

“No…” The realisation of Alberdyne’s fate dawned on him, and he did not look back as the second jet of magma spewed forth from the golem’s mouth and delivered the wrath of nature on his newfound ally. In the golem’s distraction Cydnar had an opening and leapt under its reach, skipped deftly through its wide legs and stepped out behind it with his hair in disarray and his heart beating in his chest like a wild beast trying to escape its cage.

Alberdyne’s last words were a pledge of allegiance and a command combined. Cydnar smiled at the human between the golem and closed his eyes as his injured body was washed away into decadence and death by the liquid fire. His lingering cry echoed around the ethereal chamber of the Citadel for several painstaking moments, before it was crushed by the golem’s triumphant roar. He felt uplifted and enraged at the same time, and with a gruff nod, he draw back his sword cane and his unsheathed blade and held them behind his back and up, spreading them like the bones in a bird’s wing.

“I will, Alberdyne, I will…or so both of us are damned to die in this place…” He brought the hilts of both blades inwards and knocked them together. The mechanism of his sword cane jettisoned the sheath ten feet to one side and unveiled Altheas in its eager glory. “No magic shall walk this earth untried, untested and unfettered by the Ancient Lore – no tribal remnant of anarchy shall be unbound by them, or control them, except Yrene!”

With a furious disregard for finesse Cydnar swung the sharp blade of Altheas into the vines between the stone of the golem’s foot and the stones that made up its knee. The vines that covered the beast head to toe acted as a mesh to support the magic that kept the beast upright. Without them, or so he supposed, the leg would fall apart like a stone wall in an earthquake, rattling and rolling into the primordial components it was made out of.

In short order the vines were cut, and he cut the crystalline baton of Freya up and over his shoulder and stood still for a moment. The Golem began to turn, aware that something assaulted it’s being. Cydnar smiled, swung the heavy blade and ripped the vines apart. As the golem turned it twisted, and the lose rocks that rolled over one another in his knee fell apart onto the grass with a satisfying cascade.

Praxis, the Golem of Stone dropped three feet as it’s left leg crumbled to the knee. Its great arms flailed through the air and slammed into the ground, and Cydnar leapt backwards in a shower of rubble. The heavy clods knocked the wind from him and he fell onto his backside. It’s head snapped upright and the bronze sword glinted in the sun. The Hummel had immobilised the beast, but its fists could flail wildly and flames burn brightly still.

Its head…he mumbled, pushing him upright and circling the semi-collapsed fell beast until he stood directly behind it. A blind spot. He spiralled his blades in a woven pattern of destruction, a remnant of the blade singer’s art which had found its way into the Salthias style over the centuries and approached in silence.

Whatever magic had gone awry to keep them contained within the Citadel, Cydnar hoped that it would die with the death of the golem, be sundered by the piercing downward thrust of his hematite blades to the cranium of the beast that had stolen his victory away. He was eternally denied victory but at least his appetite would be satisfied. He hissed, bore his teeth like a snake advancing silently on its prey and stepped forwards.

[Alberdyne_Cormyr]

Reality itself flickered for a moment, thrice, what Dyne saw next was a blur of The Firmanent itself. With his close tie to The Antifirmanent, Alberdyne felt a sudden rush flow through his body. Seeing a gray world filled with darkness, the apprentice felt a severing from his body that was so complete, he nearly fell from shock. Despite that initial shock, Dyne found himself adjusting to the newly discovered plane quickly. Turning towards a certain directional pull that he felt, the apprentice observed something that mystified him. A pillar of late came from some far off distance. It felt peaceful, tranquil. Alberdyne understood that this pillar of light was calling him to The Great After. Alberdyne could hear a choir of music calling him home.

Shaking his head, Dyne could still see his chosen Master bravely fending off the golem that they had encountered. Impulsively, the youth wanted to do something to help. Turning away from the light to The Great After, Dyne readied himself. In his Phantom-form, the youth was capable of accomplishing a great deal more than he could in his physical shell. Unbound by the standard laws of physics, Alberdyne Cormyr was a Phantom now. As he prepared to move towards the battle to affect a great change, he felt a heavy hand suddenly grab his shoulder. Dyne turned towards the sudden movement with a start until he realized who had grabbed him. Dyne was staring into the concerned eyes of Kireg Lukas.

"You don't want to be doing that, kiddo." Kireg Lukas said. "You're still young as a Phantom. You would be doing your friend no good at all. Something is wrong with The Citadel. We can better serve your friend by assisting the monks." He said.

"Am I dead?" Alberdyne Cormyr asked. "What was the meaning behind all of this?"

"Your death was not your fault. You still cling to The Firmanent which is why you have become a Phantom in the first place." Kireg Lukas said. "All though in reality, you should have taken the corridor of light." Kireg Lukas continued. "I have sworn an oath to protect you, and I have failed in that oath. However, in this state I can make up for that. I can teach you the ways of The Phantom..."

Suddenly, an event occurred. One that shocked them both. The stable reality of The Antifirmanent became washed in a green light of magical energy.

"Over there!" Kireg Lukas called out to Dyne, and they both ran in the general direction that the older Phantom pointed out....

[Cydnar]

The world beneath the world seemed a million miles away in Cydnar's mind. The arena blurred and spiralled, and his heart cracked his ribs beneath the strain of adrenaline and excitement. It tantalised, traumatised and trivialised each and every fluctuation ripple of his muscles and limbs. He felt the kill before it happened.

Nimbly and without sound he ran up the golem's back as it fell forwards and roared with such intensity that lava fell from its maw and scorched a caldera into the ground. As Cydnar saddled the creature's head and stood triumphant on its back, steam rose up around the Hummel and concealed him from few for a few brief seconds.

Freya descended and pierced a crack between the two hemispheres of the creature's head. With a deep pulse of released energy the golem died, there and then. Cydnar's robes bellowed in the motion as it rocked back and forth, and then he smashed the crystallised blade downwards into Praxis's forehead and it smashed.

The blade broke open it's forehead and then the hulk of stone fell forwards, the magic holding it in place gone, defeated, no more.

"The Maker and the Slayer consume!" Cydnar roared in return, glaring his fangs and relishing the lick of wind as it kicked up his hair.

As a last ditch death throe the golem brought its fist up and drove it full force into the hemanite hauberk that protected Cydnar's feeble form.

"Ugh," he rasped as the wind was forced from him. The blow came from the right, and knocked the elf far to the left like a rag-doll. The crunch told monk and elf alike that it was a fatal connection. A parting of ways.

As he crashed into the grass and his head fell onto the delicate bloom of the arena's last living dandelion, he remembered his anger at being defeated, and let it drain away like the flows of magma from the golem's heart. It, like his emotion, scoured the land of all meaning and grace, leaving nothing but ash in it's wake.

[Alberdyne_Cormyr]

With the gray-world of The Antifirmanent flowing about their persons, harsh winds howled about. They kicked up dust and debris with such ferocity that Dyne found himself instinctively covering his eyes. He was running behind Kireg Lukas's person. Moving with surprising speed, the older Phantom quickly maneuvered himself through The Antifirmanent. When Alberdyne Cormyr caught up, the younger Phantom looked at his partner for a moment. Observing the distinct walls of The Citadel in its spirit-form, the pair found a sight that was truly disturbing. Tampering with the spells and symbols of The Order of Ai'Bron was a horrible creature that Dyne had never seen before.

Somehow, the creature was latched upon an eldritch device that was apparently only visible on The Antifirmanent. The powerful device was placed there by the monks of The Order. Glowing with a dark-blue residue, energy spiraled everywhere. Alberdyne Cormyr gasped with horror when he realized that the ancient creature was feeding off the eldritch device. Powerful symbols manifested around the device in the form a circular sigillium. This was coloured a darker shade of azure. Dyne reached for a weapon but was stunned to realize he had none. Dyne felt Kireg's hand on his shoulder. Turning to look at the older Phantom, Dyne nodded as he realized he would have to face this threat unarmed. As if his friend was somehow able to read his thoughts, Kireg spoke.

"It's an Elder Spektor. A really powerful one too." Kireg whispered. "We have to back up really slowly or it will attack. That is what was tampering with the Monks' magics."

Acknowledging the order, Dyne stepped backwards with Kireg.

"Move very slowly." Kireg said.

"I am afraid I cannot allow you two to escape. You have already seen too much." Came the sound of an unknown's voice.

Dyne turned towards the speaker very quickly. Stunned by what he saw next, the speaker gave off a powerful energy. Somehow, the very fabric of The Antifirmanent was twisted to the speaker's will. A purple energy flowed from the speaker's soul. Dyne felt a tremendous evil that was generated by the man he saw. The figure wore an elegant outfit of materials he had never seen before. It rippled in the wind that constantly moved. An elegant cloak lashed around the creature. For the first few moments, Dyne did not realize he was looking at a race of humanoids he had never seen before. Somehow, colour flowed from the creature which created a harsh contrast to the rest of the gray matter of this world.

Dyne instinctively covered his eyes because the intense colour flowing from the creature hurt them. Observing the creature further, Dyne saw that it was very tall with a massive, but muscular physique. It had black flesh, and ice-coloured eyes that were filled with a distinctive hatred. Its ears were pointed almost like a Elf, but vastly misshapen. Wearing a lot of gold jewelry, and jewelry made out of bone, the creature was dressed with elegant attire. Dyne saw it raise a two-handed weapon of some-sort, more than likely a bastard sword. Shocked to see the material of the weapon, Dyne identified it as Prevalida. The weapon flowed with it's own aura. Preparing for action, Dyne accepted his fate as it was. As he prepared to move forward, Kireg placed a hand on his chest.

"Not a good idea. Let me take care of these two. You need to run..."

But their enemy had other ideas. Not waiting for them to act, The Orken Warrior roared a warcy. Immediately, two more Orken surrounded the first and they began to rush towards Dyne and Kireg. To Dyne, the summoned Orken warriors were not as elegantly dressed as their leader. Just as blades were about to penetrate Dyne and Kireg with skilled finishing blows, a barrier of archaic properties manifested in front of the pair. In a flash of energy, several Monks of The Order materialized on The Antifirmanent. The next few moments of the battle became a blur...

To be continued...

[Tainted Bushido]

Overall:

Mood: Meh.
Music: Tall Tales Taste Liek Sour Grapes - Fair to Midland

I have read through this thread. First off I want to say something very distinct. I had to put this thing down at times, and go do something else while judging this. This should be your first indication of what's going on. Things were left vague, information dropped into the thread with no explanation at all. I just was not hooked. I had no reason to care, when telling a compelling story; you need to hook your reader. I did however; decide not to judge as a battle, as while it began as one this reads more like a quest. More on that later…

…onto the judging!

STORY

Continuity ~ 4/10. You gave me continuity, but you heaped it so high in the first post of the thread that I had to pull out my shovel and keep digging. The fact of the matter is, I had no clue where the thread actually began, and where my history lesson left off with Alberdyne. That hurt you MUCH here. This is not the Babysitters' Club line where you have to explain who's a diabetic and who's in the middle of a divorce. You should give my hints as to what's going on in characters lives, in the writing.

In short, if you have to give me a Cliff notes version of your history at the start of a thread, you might want to consider what importance it has on said thread.

Cydnar gave me little in this aspect as well. One second he's a warrior, next he's like, a mage hunter of sorts? You never really explained to me WHO he was. He played backburner to Alberdyne, and because of this, the thread suffered as this became the Alberdyne show, guest starring Cydnar. Even in the crappy animes, we at least find out SOMETHING about the character.

Setting ~ 6/10. You set up setting, and used it in the citadel. But I got no feeling of a blacksmith's shop in Alberdyne's start. I could not tell what was going on in the meadow either after the golem spouted out huge gouts of magma, twice apparently, unless Alberdyne was merely describing it, then telling me it happened.

Pacing ~ 3/10. The lack of cohesion killed this thread in a few major ways. Your story didn't captivate me. That was strike one, then I got no sense of what was going on towards the end, strike two. Finally there was a complete disconnect from characters when Alberdyne died, strike three, you're out BUCKO. One second Cydnar is killing the golem, and the next he's getting a rib shattering punch to the right side? I just don't see that happening so, disjointedly. I have a feeling you were going for that moment when the hero shouts "HA!" after felling the beast, only to find the final attack from said beast doing much the same. You however, did not pull this off.

CHARACTER

Dialogue ~ 5/10. Average score for average dialogue. I could not particularly say dialogue was intriguing. What few points you gained were lost in the romance novel style dialogue at the beginning, and the very matter of fact way that you don't convey anything through action. You guys leave NOTHING for the reader to pick up on. Yeah, you said Cydnar was furious, but where was the heaving chest? Where was the look of fury? Where were the bestial battle cries? Warriors are trained to shout when they fight so they don't lose their voice in battle. This allows them to call out ambushes and additionally to focus their energy, as they vent out emotions that may hinder them.

Much in the same way that you scream when frightened, so does a warrior shout when he attacks, even if it's a mere "HA!" You have the ability to convey SO much through body language. It's something that I'm beginning to work on myself, as I KNOW I do not have this simple aspect down. How often do you realize you stepped in it big, when you ask a girl "what's wrong" and she says "Nothing"? We've all seen the visual cues that TELL you she's pissed. She doesn't HAVE to say she's angry, she knows you damn well know she is.

Action ~ 4/10. We have green as grass Alberdyne Cormyr acting like James Bond with a girl from the citadel one moment. In the next he's fighting like a complete putz. Then he's suddenly able to shake of having his ARM BURNED RIGHT OFF? Not even looking at the arm in disbelief? Yeah, sure he can't take another hit like that, but if the shock to his system didn't put him under I'm more than certain the amount of pain in having your arm burned off would. Not only is he doing this, but he's doing this as a commoner who has had little to NO battle experience, other than somehow beating up Cydnar?

As for Cydnar, I got no sense of character. I couldn't tell you if his actions were in his normal operating procedures or not. The fact that one second Cydnar is acting prideful and trying to off the guy who beat him up, and the next he's off trying to make friends with his punching bag? The 180 was highly unusual, and the sudden epiphany that he's rage venting on Alberdyne didn't sufficiently convince me of this change of heart.

Persona ~ 5/10. I know who Alberdyne was, because I was force fed a lot about him in the beginning. My challenge for you Alberdyne, is to SHOW the character, and not TELL me about him. This isn't a game of White Wolf or DnD where my character sheet can be handed over and show everybody what he's about. We find out Gandalf the Grey is prone to mistakes, and takes them in good humor, when he realizes how to get into Moria. That says far more about his character, than someone telling me he's a good hearted man.

Cydnar is just a blank slate to me. You haven't told me about Cydnar other than the fact he fights in the citadel. Actions while descriptive of a man, are NOT the man. If I told you I once headbutted a 3 year old child, you'd think I was a jerk. In talking to me about the situation, or even in general you're going to find I'm not a grade A asshole, I'm just jerkish when tired or feel someone's been running their mouth too much. My challenge to you is to show me AND tell me about Cydnar. (By the way that is true and happened on accident I have a chipped molar from the incident.)

WRITING STYLE

Technique ~ 5/10. I can tell Alberdyne has been hard at work to avoid mistakes, but reading his posts caused many a double take. Your words are spelled correctly for the most part; they're just the wrong words.


P/K energy surrounded the bronze sword giving it a nimbus. As he reached the zenith of his leap, the youth aimed to the best of his capacity. He suddenly propelled his sword in the general direction of The Golem's left eye with as much strength as he could muster. Charging the projectile with a P/K Bolt, Dyne screamed with all the rage he could muster

NOTHING pisses me off more than when a writer get's lazy and fails to write out his words. I get that psychokinetic is a hard word to just throw in your posts, but if you are getting THAT tired of using it, you can use two methods of circumventing this problem:

1) Use a synonym.
2) Copy the word to your clipboard and paste it in every time you wish to use it. BAM! Two button's pressed and you avoid the annoying habit of using such garish things in your writing.

Your writing also while long, does nothing to help the situation. You are effectively increasing your post length with trivial, and useless information. While I get that the scene with the girl was a means of getting Alberdyne there, I didn't need the three page epic about how Alberdyne came to find the Phantom. In fact during that I thought you had TWO ghosts running around.

Also, please don't bold something unless there is a reason to. Emphasis being the number one reason to use bold or italics. It distracts and detracts from the reader, causing his eyes to drift back to the same words over and over when used improperly.

Mechanics ~ 5/10. Both of you are guilty of using words that don't work in their situations. Alberdyne is a bit guiltier of not proofreading his work, but even our illustrious Cydnar had a few misplaced words, dropped words, and such. Reading aloud catches these mistakes in the making, before they become mistakes in themselves. They showed up in sufficient quantities to ding you back to an average score.

Clarity ~ 4/10. What hurt clarity is the fact I didn't understand completely what was going on. You guys would go off doing things, and suddenly things would get dropped into the narrative. Cydnar's golem attack that kills him is the number one problem I see. Add in the unnecessary history lesson at the beginning, and the rather nebulous work during the fight and I just can't come to grips with what exactly is going on.

MISCELLANEOUS

Wild Card ~ 3/10. Perhaps its just all the confusion that this thread created in my head, but I just couldn't give a high wildcard for this.

TOTAL ~ 44/100.

Alberdyne Cormyr gains 395 EXP and 106 GP.

Cydnar Yrene gains 831 EXP and 106 GP.

Any EXP rewards given are based off of the equation. Any questions regarding what was said can be addressed to me via PM or AIM SethDahlios.

[Taskmienster]

Exp and GP added.