Watching You.

[The Trap Master]

The biting cold of Salvar still remained on John Shelby's trench coat. The sadistic mastermind known simply as Trap Master had spent a few weeks in the country in order to subdue his latest victim. His work had become slow as of late due to his obsession with this one person. His contact had told him of a three man party that had ventured into Salvar to find an orc tribe. Two of the members of the party had not needed lessons to be taught to them, but the leader of the trio most certainly did.

Artemis Eburi was a blacksmith who had a falling out with his father. The two had come to blows after Artemis had discovered that his father was part of an assassin's guild. This information was the first step of the man's journey into running away from his home, finding residence in Knife's Edge. It was there that John had spent several days following the man while being as inconspicuous as possible.

He would have tea at a local cafe in the morning as Artemis went about early routines. Likewise, he would find himself in the shadows of various alleys as the man left his master's home at night. Artemis had taken up residence in a bar, so trying to subdue him in his own living quarters would be downright impossible without being questioned. The Trap Master would have to strike when the warrior was most vulnerable; during his tired trips home from the local dwarven blacksmiths.

It took a few nights for the sadistic mind of John Shelby to figure out the overall route Artemis Eburi took to get back to the bar. Once he had gotten the man's predictable pattern down pat, he decided it would be his time to strike. John hid in the shadows a good five minutes away from the smithy. This would give the man around ten to fifteen minutes to capture his prey in the darkness of the night.

He heard the crunching snow from the alleyway, snaking his way just outside of the buildings to witness his target's arrival. Artemis had just barely passed, the man being far enough away from Shelby to allow the snow to warn him of any coming danger. John would have to be quick. He lunged at the man, a rag full of chloroform already in his left hand.

John landed almost directly behind the warrior, the rag slamming into the face of Artemis Eburi. The warrior flailed his limbs, trying to reach behind him to find his assailant. He was stopped by John's right arm, wrapping itself around the neck of his foe as his body began to give into the effects of the chemical upon his cloth. Artie's body went limp in a matter of seconds, allowing or the Trap Master to drag his body into the alleyway from wince he came. He would come back later and cover up the tracks made from dragging the other man's body.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Artemis would soon wake up. It had taken almost all of the drugs John had to keep the man sedated enough for travel to the citadel. When he finally did reach the magical building, he had almost instantaneously gone to the room he had designed or his foe. Taking him through several darkened steel doors, John lay the body of Artemis Eburi upon the silver steel floor, a sadistic smile crossing the mans lips. John began to hurry around the room to get everything prepared or the upcoming test. Within the span of a few seconds, he had become ready. John slammed the large steel door as the lights in the first room buzzed themselves on.

It was time for a father-son reunion, courtesy of the Trap Master.

[SirArtemis]

Artemis was having a terrible dream. His mind fluttered with images of a man attacking from behind, suffocating him. A hand clasped over his mouth and he began losing consciousness, falling into a dark and incredibly cold void. Falling to the ground in his dream, he began to wake.

Artemis lay on the ground, shivering tremendously. The blinding lights in the room stung at his eyes as they opened. He had no idea where he was, not remembering what had occurred, thinking it was still just a bad dream. Teeth chattering and hands cold, he lifted his head and realized that he was laying on some kind of metal floor and it was freezing. Wherever he was, this was not The Bearded Gnome, and he had to figure out what he was doing here.

As his body shook, Artemis tried to lift himself up. Hands freezing, he placed them on the ground to lift to a sitting position. The task was more difficult than anticipated due to an odd grogginess and wobbly feeling. There was no way for the young man to know that it was a side effect of the sedative drugs.

In his left hand, he held an arrowhead, though not understanding why. He placed it on the ground and sat up, taking in his surroundings. The vagabond felt as if he was in a freezer for storing meats, every surface made of metal.

'Is someone playing some stupid trick on me or something?' he thought to himself.

The air in this chamber was far colder than even that of the Salvarn Tundra. Bundling up close and wrapping arms around himself the young man rubbed his body in an attempt to produce heat. Watching the cold breath float out of his mouth, he looked down to the ground and noticed a small piece of paper with something written on it. Teeth chattering, he leaned forward a bit and began to read...

[The Trap Master]

"There is a lesson to be learned. Your father is no saint, Artemis Eburi, and neither are you. You turned your back on your family so quickly after being raised for so long. Though your father wanted you to do sinister deeds, you should have talked to him before attacking him. I wonder if you still love your father at all. You will have an hour to escape all of the traps I have laid out for you. If you make it out within the hour, you can enjoy a tearful reunion with your dad. If you go even a second over, however, you will have a tearful reunion with his corpse.

This first room reflects the cold heart in which you left home with. Even now, a small mist is circulating through the air systems of the room. In small doses, this will only irritate an already cold human. Within a few minutes, however, you will suffer from either being frozen to death, or suffering from Salvic Hypothermia. The key to your salvation lies within your leg. If you are strong enough, you can dig the key out with the arrow head you have been given. Otherwise, you will die here. Its time to see just how much you can truly hate a man who raised you for all those years."

The hissing of the vents indicated that the mist was starting to spray throughout the room. It would become increasingly colder by the second. A black steel door lay just ahead of Artemis, ice already caked over some portions of it. The room was otherwise plain, four silver steel walls with a matching floor, the chain that held Artemis being the only unique thing in the area.

John watched from another room as Artemis read the note. The Trap Master's hands were shaking with anticipation, a sign of his schizophrenia between doing this to help, and doing this for his own sick pleasure. John would watch Artemis pass or fail this first test before he checked on the man's father. After all, Artemis Eburi was a wildcard to John, and he didn't know how the man would react to one of the Master's pieces. Placing the shaking hands together, John rubbed them together for warmth before blowing on them.

"It's a little chilly in here," John whispered with a sadistic smile on his face. While the air that was slightly escaping Artemis' room was entering John's, it only inconvenienced the Trap Master, and was nowhere near as bad as what Artemis was now going through. "Next time, I'll make sure to magically insulate my spectator rooms..."

[SirArtemis]

As the young man read the note, the mentioning of his father brought a fury to the surface.

'My father is no saint. That much I know. What judgment does this person think they have on me? What have I done to deserve this?!'

Artemis' thoughts were rushing through his mind, cascading over themselves like an avalanche, ready to sweep away anything in their path. His teeth were chattering tremendously as he tried to keep warm, looking around the room for any sign of an escape. It was simply a steel room with a door, and the manacle around his right wrist prevented him from going far anyways. The mist was pouring in, ice crystals forming throughout the room, making the cold many times worse.

Artemis let out a yell full of fury and frustration, his heart pumping and adrenaline rushing through his limbs. He attempted to stand but felt a sharp pain course through his left leg.

'The key lies within my leg, huh?'

Shivering, the man managed to stand, the chain attached to his right hand fully extended as he stood. He tugged at the chain on his hand slightly, realizing how sure his doom was if he could not find a way out. He turned his leg around, touching gently to find the source of the pain. The inner thigh of his left leg was the only point where he could feel any sensitivity so he took his leather pants off as gently as he could, grimacing through the pain as he slid out of his pants. After the pants were off, he noted some stitches along his inner thigh. Realizing that this must be where this salvation was, Artemis wondered what to do next.

'Okay, a fresh wound. Maybe there is something inside. Let's cut the stitches at least.'

Leaning down, he picked up the arrowhead, testing its edge. The tip was sharp, but could be sharper. The more dull the blade, the more pain it would cause. He took his right hand, trying to hold it steady so that he could cut the threads, but the cold was making him shiver far too much. He nicked his leg with the tip of the arrowhead, completely missing the mark.

'Fuck, this won't work. I need to steady myself, otherwise this won't be possible.'

Artemis tried to sit but the metal was tremendously cold and any flesh that encountered the steel burned, causing him to lift his legs. He took the pants he had taken off and laid them on the ground in a 'V' shape, carefully sitting atop them to prevent any of his skin from making contact with cold steel.

His breaths were quick, heart pounding and the reality of imminent death dancing across his mind while time ticked away. Artemis placed his hand against the cold metal right between his legs, providing some stability for the hand. Despite the burning feeling he felt on his skin, Artemis knew he did not have much of a choice, or time. The man took a few quick deep breaths and then held his breath to steady himself, pushing the tip of the arrowhead up against the fresh wound. He growled through clenched teeth as the pain bit at his leg.

As he began to cut into his own thigh, warm blood started to trickle down his leg, quickly obscuring his own work. Had the cold not already begun to numb the wound, the pain would have been unbearable. The pain of the skin on his hand burning from the cold and adhering to the steel beneath him helped as a distraction. It seemed as if a bit more discomfort was not too much to bear.

Grinding his teeth and clenching his jaw so tightly that it gave the man a headache; he continued to cut, using the floor as a stable guiding tool to remove the stitches. He cut a mostly straight line despite the shivering. Knowing that the wound was still fresh and that cutting the surface would be enough, he pushed on. He could not see what he was doing beneath the blood, but every light click he felt as the taught thread snapped brought a bit more relief. The wound was opening now and he was almost there.

After no more than thirty seconds of slowly cutting open the wound, blood pouring freely from the gash, Artemis felt a bit of relief at knowing he was almost done. That thought quickly disappeared with the realization of what lay before him. He put the arrowhead on the ground and spread the wound as much as he could, the cold mist stinging constantly at the flesh. He could barely make out the depth of the wound behind the blood, but there looked to be something about a half of an inch in.

'There is no fucking way I can get that if I don't go for it quickly. This is ridiculous. Who the fuck is doing this to me!?'

Artemis knew time was short, and this was not going to be an easy task, not in the least. His heart was racing, causing the blood to pour out faster, and the cold was not treating him any better. It took almost all of his will to keep his hand as steady as possible, and even that proved difficult.

Artemis took his left hand and spread the wound as much as he could with it, the cold mist burning. He took a few quick, deep breaths to steady himself, again taking one deep breath to hold himself steady. He knew that he only had one shot at this. The agony that was about to ensue would be too much for the young man to try a second time.

Taking his right hand, he thrust his pointer and thumb into the wound, letting out a primal roar at the top of his lungs as he did so, grabbing the metal key that was embedded in his flesh and pulling it out as quickly as he could. The pain was excruciating and the most terrible feeling the young man had ever felt. Getting the key out and dropping it on the floor in front of him, the pain had made him incredibly uncomfortable. He felt nauseous and light-headed, compounding with the aftereffect of the sedative drugs. Tears running down his face from the pain he had just experienced, as well as the discomfort of what had just occurred, Artemis vomited to his side several times. After nothing remained, and a few dry heaves caused his abdomen to cramp, the shivering had stopped, a sign that hypothermia was kicking in and his body was going numb. Needles stabbing all over,

His fingers, barely able to function, gripped at the key that he left to the floor. The key had already begun to freeze to the steel floor. He took the arrowhead, chipping at the key to get it loose. Picking it up, he inserted it into the locking mechanism attached to the manacle on his wrist and unlocked it, letting the metal ring as it collided with the steel floor. Getting up and picking his pants up, the man wrapped the leather pants around his wound to try and stop the blood flow, growling through the little pain that remained through the numbness. The man hopped on his right leg through the door of the room that had just opened as he unlocked the manacle.

[The Trap Master]

The next room would seem a bit more light-hearted than the first. All over the floor were playing cards, each of different shapes and numbers or faces. Every square inch of the floor was covered with the cards, and the piles came up to just over a normal person's feet. Just before the cards began was Trap Master's next letter. John wasn't cruel enough to make Artemis wade through such things before knowing his objective.

"There is a lesson to be learned. You broke your father's heart when you ran away, so now you must find it for him again. How much blood will you spill in order to bring your father back his missing heart? There is only one King of Hearts in the massive amount of playing cards before you. Your job will be to find it within five minutes. A warning though; every other card in this room holds razor sharp edges to them. Without careful precision, you will cut your hands and feet. Think of it as trying to swim through a sea of steel swords. When you find the King of Hearts, place it up to the door across the room to gain access to the next area. After five minutes expires, however, the room will seal shut, forever trapping you. Time is of the essence, Artemis Eburi, to not only save your life, but your fathers as well."

Across the room was a steel red door, a small, almost square indention in the center of it. It was quite obvious that this was where the King of Hearts was supposed to go, once it was located.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As Artemis began to progress into the second room, John was satisfied with what he had seen. He began to make his way through each of his spectator rooms, smiling as he passed the couches, the two-way mirrors, and the other luxuries he afforded himself when he watched a victim fight for their life first-hand. As he came across his last room, he opened the door, smiling at the fact that he was now in the location of Artemis' final test.

The father of Artemis Eburi lay strapped to what appeared to be an electric chair, complete with head electrodes. The copper wires of the device seemed to be leading straight to a black box with a red lever connected at its side. The foul odor of death and ammonia seemed to fill the place. John had not bothered to turn the light on, but if he had, he would have allowed his victim to see the mask that the Trap Master was currently wearing; the face of the scam artist known as Max Dirks.

"You're son is progressing nicely, Mr. Eburi. Let's just hope he can keep it up," John said, changing the pitch and tone of his voice in order to cover up his true vocals. He was met in reply with muffles, probably some sort of swear words that the assassin had in store for his captor. John merely shook his head as he approached his victim in the darkness of the room. He felt the sides of the mans face to make sure that the gag was still around his mouth.

Satisfied that all was how he left it, John began to walk out of the room, closing the door with a loud thud. He smiled as he heard the frustrated screaming of Artemis' father in the room next to him.

"Let's go see if old Artie has made it through yet," John spoke with a laugh to his words. He loved being the Trap Master.

[SirArtemis]

As Artemis stepped into the next room, a narrow pathway stood between him and a pedestal that stood in the center of the room. On the pedestal sat another note, and all around the room were what looked to be playing cards scattered around the floor, enough to stack up to a foot off the ground.

“At least this room isn’t a god damn freezer,” Artemis mumbled, feeling slowly returning to his body.

Slowly taking steps forward, practically dragging his left leg along, the man approached the pedestal and lifted the note to read. After finishing the note, Artemis glanced up and noticed a timer above the doorway that began counting down from five minutes.

‘Brilliant.’

Beginning to think of possible strategies, he brushed them aside as quickly as he came up with them. Though his boots were fairly durable and high enough upon his leg to prevent cutting, the fact that he could barely walk would make that option impossible. Using his dagger to just sift through them could be effective, if he had his dagger. He didn’t have any gloves, so using his hands wasn’t going to work well either, not to mention that his mobility would still suffer from his leg wound. He glanced down at the arrowhead, but there was nothing that could do for him either. It was just the tip, not even a shaft to hold it by.

It came down to doing what was likely most efficient, though all were clearly poor options.

‘This is not going to work at all.’

Artemis would need to put his pants back on, but he still needed to do something with the wound on his leg.

‘I need a way to wrap this… let’s see how sharp these cards are.’

Leaning down and carefully picking up a card, the vagabond tested the edge on the tip of his finger. The edge was definitely very sharp, and this would work very well for his idea. Taking the card and carefully holding it, he trimmed off the sleeves of his leather armor at the shoulder, sliding off the length of leather from both arms. After finishing, he then cut the leather arms in a spiral fashion, creating two lengths of leather straps. Sitting down and untying the leather chaps from his leg, he used the leather straps to wrap up his fresh wound. The leg was still mostly numb, so the pain wasn’t too unbearable. Finishing with wrapping the wound, he held the end of the second strap in place while he put his chaps back on, using the snugness of the pants to hold the end in place. The leggings went down to cover most of his boots, down to the ankle, and he hoped this would be enough.

‘I already have one fucking gash on my leg, what’s a few dozen more?’

Looking up at the clock, he realized the preparations had already cost him nearly two minutes, so he stepped into the mess of cards, pushing through the pain in his left leg. The wound was still raw, but he had tied the wound well enough to keep the leg a bit numb. He had cut some nerves during the procedure, so much of the movements were more of him dragging the leg rather than pushing it on its own, often times using his arms to keep trudging.

Kicking through the sharp cards, it was not long before they had sliced through both layers of leather and were starting to knick at his shins and calves. He was keeping his eyes open, looking through the cards as best he could, turning them over with every kick and push. He looked up at the clock again.

‘Just over a minute. This is impossible!’

Time running short, adrenaline pumping through his body again, Artemis began wading at a faster pace, lifting his right leg in as much of a kick as he could afford without collapsing due to the weakness of his left leg.

‘Where is this card?!’

Time was ticking and panic was setting in again. Though Artemis had already made it around the room several times, he had had no luck. It seemed as if he would be trapped, and there was nothing he could do about it.

“Fuuuuuck!!” He roared at the heavens, enraged by the idea of someone doing this to him. He was still holding the arrowhead and threw it down, as if the gesture would help relieve some of the frustration. He leaned forward, resting his hands on his knees, trying to slow his breath as he began to admit his defeat.

Just then, he noticed that the arrowhead had pierced a card…

“What the hell?” Artemis questioned. He knew the cards were made out of metal, which means…

Looking up at the clock, he saw that he had less than twenty seconds left. Lifting up the arrowhead and the card attached to it, he turned it over and saw the king of hearts staring back at him. With a renewed energy, he waded with all his force through the cards toward the door across the room, pushing through the pain of the cards continuously cutting through the flesh on his legs.

Ten seconds left, and now the room boomed with a loud rumbling sound with every second that ticked, making it impossible to forget the urgency that he faced.

He watched the clock as he ran, or what was his attempt at running. Seconds ticking, he got to the door with four seconds on the clock. Finding the little slot, he tried to push the card in, the rumbling room’s reminder of time remaining making it difficult to focus. Hoping the hole through the middle would not matter, he finally inserted the key and heard a click of the lock. Turning the knob and pushing forward, he fell flat on his face with a second to spare. The decks of razors spilled after him into the next room, and as he lay there, amazed that he had made it through the second challenge, he looked up, awestruck at what he saw.

[The Trap Master]

The young man’s hand was pounding away at the two-way mirror that separated him and Artemis. The brown specks of chin stub and lack of wrinkles around his face indicated that this strange person was around Artemis’ own age. His shaggy brown hair and the fact that flies were swarming him indicated that he had been in this room for quite some time. Several feet away from the youth was another man. A black cloak draped over his body for warmth. The hostilities of age were far less forgiving to the older man; his hair was graying, the bags under his eyes hung low, and wrinkles littered his face from years of stress. Only the hazel eyes that each man possessed would give any indication that these two were related.

Before the downed Artemis was two separate pedestals. Upon each stand stood a red button, giant letters over each of them. The button to the right of Artemis read ‘The Sins of the Father’; the other read ‘A Sons Sacrifice’. There was nothing that could indicate what either button did. Perhaps that was the reason for the letter taped to the two-way glass…

“There is a lesson to be learned. The two men you see before you are father and son. While it may not seem like it at first, the father has been a top assassin in an organization known as ‘Step’. He just revealed this information to his son two days ago. Now, the son wants nothing to do with the father. Sound familiar? You must relive your own past one more time to come to terms with what you are today. Each button is directly liked to the cortex of each man via some very precise surgery. By pressing either button, you will sacrifice one of these two men in order to allow the other one to live. Would you kill your own father if you had the chance to play this scene all over again?

Oh, and one more detail. The father has three more children at home….”

By this point, the son had gotten fed up with not being answered. Realizing that nobody was coming for him, he began to cackle madly, causing the glass to vibrate. His head shooting towards his father, the youth reached into his black trench coat and pulled out a dagger, rushing towards the older man while yelling about how this was his fault. If Artemis was going to make a decision, he would have to do it fast before the son killed his father.


John sat in the spectator room, his grin full of malice and contempt. Even if Artemis found him, he would never reveal that the ‘family’ in the room was just illusions created by the citadel. A magician never tells his secrets, and that sort of thing. Cracking his knuckles as if ready for a brawl, John began to hop up and down in anticipation. The vigor of youth was running through his old veins once more. He hadn’t felt this much of a rush since killing the spider magi Lorenor.

John became amused at the thoughts of torturing Lorenor again. That scum had paid for his crimes against the Trap Master, but he had not felt completed because of it. John’s mind began to race with the possibility of not using any more traps. Perhaps the days of the infamous trap master were numbered. Perhaps he should start committing the murders himself, rather than allowing his victims the chance at assisted suicide.

Perhaps Artemis was the perfect test subject for such thoughts….

[SirArtemis]

The room was a box of mirrors. The walls, floor and ceiling all reflected the image of the other creating an appearance of endlessness in every direction; except for one. Two pedestals much like the previous ones he had encountered stood side-by-side in the middle of the room, a harsh reminder that this wasn't over yet.

Artemis lay on the floor, still recovering from the ridiculousness of the previous room and hoping to catch his breath for a moment. It seemed that the test never began until he was finished reading the note, so he decided he might as well take advantage of that.

Face down against the cool touch of the smooth surface, Artemis stared into his reflection and fell back into his own thoughts. Who was doing this to him, and why? He had lived with others' interests in mind, hoping to help others live a happy and better life. He had not killed anyone except an orc or two. He had not stolen from anyone or lied to gain an upper hand. He was just a young man looking to forget about some of his past and live his life looking forward.

Then this had to happen.

Pushing up and raising his exhausted body, Artemis walked over to the pedestals and read the buttons. They referenced a father and son, but he didn't quite understand. Looking around for the trademark note, he spotted it over on the wall, as well as an explanation to the pedestals.

Though it was a simple task, approaching the note felt somewhat surreal. He was approaching the reflection of himself, staring down a man who felt detached from the person viewing him. Yet what made it worse was not only the reference to father and son of the pedestal, but the note as well. It told a story similar to Artemis' very own. The younger man who stood in front of him, pounding on the barrier between them, had found out that his father was an assassin. The father himself laid on the ground a few strides behind the younger man.

This was Artemis' own story, with the son wanting to detach himself from the father. Yet why was the choice given to Artemis to decide their fates? Moral questions of right and wrong aside, it wasn't up to the vagabond to kill either of these men, and he didn't want their blood on his hands.

He turned his back to the barrier, pushed up against it, and slid down along it until he was sitting on the ground. He banged on the wall with the back of his head once in frustration and let out a sigh of defeat.

'This is where it ends,' He thought to himself. 'I won't kill either of them for the sake of whoever is doing this to me. He can play on my past, but my virtue will hold true. I'll die with my values before I kill without reason.'

He scrunched up the note, tossing it towards the pedestal as a ball of paper and closed his eyes, trying to relax and not think of the pains he had just suffered for it all to end here. His left thigh was pulsing painfully where he had gouged out a key. The countless cuts and gashes on both legs didn't help with that. He had lost plenty of blood, which was making him feel lightheaded. Soon enough, he'd bleed out and die peacefully without others' blood on his hands, and that was enough for him.

[The Trap Master]

John's eyes widened at the inaction that Artemis had taken. Had he really been so callous, when watching a son about to kill his own father, to just stand there and do nothing? Perhaps the lessons of Artie's own dad were engraved into his child's head a bit too well. Death seemed to be a comfortable place for a man so set on not being an assassin.

Was it a shocking revelation? Yes. Was John unprepared for such an eventuality? No.

The blood splattered on the glass as the man stabbed his father in the face over and over again. The son was clearly lost in his insanity, cackling madly the whole time as his dad's lifeless body spilt the last remnants of blood from his head. Satisfied with his grisly act, the man stood up and faced the two way mirror once more. He shuffled through the area as if he were some sort of zombie. Upon reaching the window, he lifted his dagger up once more.

Covered in the red blood of his own father, droplets leaving the bangs of his hair slowly, he plunged the knife into his own neck. The crimson liquid sprayed out from the jugular of the stranger, coating the rest of the viewing glass with his own life liquid. Artemis could hear a loud thud echo throughout the room, the sound of a body slamming upon the floor. Artemis' inactivity had cost him not one, but two lives.

A part of the wall slid open, revealing the hidden entrance ion the one-thought dead end of a room. This would be the final trial.

In this room, Artemis' father sat in the chair he was shackled to. The sharp tip of a fingernail slowly grazed under the man's face, creating a thin line of blood beneath the jaw line. The wielder of these nails stood happily giggling, as if enjoying the torture. Darkened skin coated the entire slender form. Bringing the nails back across the chin of Artie's father, she repeated the slow and painful process. The man screamed a bit at the snail-paced torture. There was no note in this room. Only the Dark Elf Jay, Artemis' crush, slowly killing his father.

It was now just Artemis, his father, and 'The Trap Master'.

[SirArtemis]

The young man sat still, as relaxed and resigned as a man could look with his fate sealed. He heard some noises, something hitting the glass maybe, a thud possibly, but he didn't register any of it. He didn't have much left, and even still it wouldn't end. The door to his left slid open, leading the way into the next room.

A part of the vagabond didn't want to even bother. He was so weak and had already accepted that this wasn't going to end. As far as he knew, these trials would go on and on until he died anyway.

Yet that little flicker of will, that desire to live on, burned ever so dimly at the core of Artemis' heart. With whatever strength he could muster, he turned to right side, using his somewhat stronger right leg and both of his arms to push himself up. His muscles strained, blood pouring from his open wounds as the need for oxygen pumped fresh warm fluid throughout. With labored breaths and through clenched teeth, he managed to stand, leaning his back against the wall.

Had he turned around, he would have seen the bloody mess that resulted from his inaction, but he didn't. He simply faced away from the wall with eyes closed, every breath feeling forced.

He stepped toward the open doorway with a heavy limp. His left leg was extremely painful to step on and the adrenaline had long since washed away. Even through the pain, he trudged on, that glimmer of hope that this might be over motivating the man forward.

As he arrived at the door, placing his hand on the rim of the doorway, he stepped through and saw something he never had expected.

It was his father, bound to a chair and having his chin sliced open by...

"Jay?" Artemis asked, disbelief in his tone. "You did this? Why? What did I do to make you do something like this?"

A tear began to form in his eye, his world falling apart before him. Jay was supposed to be a friend of his. She was supposed to represent the group of friends that Artemis had made in Knife's Edge, the group that would change his life. Yet there she stood before him, her silver-violet hair cascading down her shoulders, covering one of her eyes as a wicked smile crossed her face.

There before Artemis sat his past, tormented by the present. Yet even through all the pain that his father had caused him, the young man did not wish death upon his own father. If it were to come to him, it would come to him by his own doing, not by Artemis'.

Through blurred tears, a rage began to build inside Artemis.

"How could you do this? It was all a lie then, was it? You saved my life from the orc and took me with you on the scouting mission for what, just to see how weak I was? Is that what you want to hear me say? THAT I'M WEAK!?" Artemis roared at the top of his lungs, unable to bottle up the painful sadness any longer. Artemis felt so hurt and betrayed, so alone. He wanted to burst out in tears and fall to the ground and die. No one in his past loved him, no one in his present loved him, and by any stretch of the imagination, the young man couldn't imagine anyone in the future loving him. He felt so alone, and as he was about to drop down to the ground, Jay lowered the dagger from his father's chin to his throat. She pulled out a blade and tauntingly pushed it up against his throat licking her top lip, a gesture that some men would have found seductive if not for the fact that she was doing so because she was about to kill a man.

"No!" Artemis yelled, pushing off of his right foot and beginning to run toward her. As his full weight fell upon his left leg, a pain shot through his body that he wasn't prepared for. It was too excruciating, and combined with the lightheadedness of losing so much blood, it proved too much. Artemis' teary-eyed blurred vision faded to blackness, and as he fell forward losing consciousness, he thought he saw the image of Jay's blade pulling across his father's neck. Even worse, he recognized the blade. It was his dagger, VIRTUE, that was slicing open his father's throat.

[The Trap Master]

"If this poor sucker had made it, Abner," Liuetenant Eric Oak spoke about the quarts of blood spilt over the floor, "he would have been seriously fucked for the rest of his life. What's the report say?"

Sargeant Abner Sasori was reading through a case file. Recently, the two detectives had gotten a better lead and insight into the fiend known simply as The Trap Master. While Eric Oak provided a much more hands on approach to everything done during investigations, Sasori was the literate. "Seems that The Trap Master brought this guy, and his dad, back all the way from Salvar. Messed with the test subject physically until trying to destroy him mentally in this last room. According to reports, the subject, Artemis Eburi, got a front row ticket to watching his own dad die."

Eric listened as he stared at his own reflection in the crimson liquid on the ground. "Salvar is kinda out of his range, or it has been. Every other target has been visiting Corone when Trap Master has struck. What makes this guy so different?"

"Nada. I guess we won't know until the blood tests from the William Arcus case comes in," Sasori spoke with a sigh. Almost as if summoned by the detective's words, a lower-ranking officer rushed in, holding several papers. A smile formed across the lips of the two cops. They finally got the blood results back from Alerar. Trap Master had potentially cut himself on one of his own traps, and now it was time to find this monster, and make him pay for all of his injustices.

"The next time he strikes," Sasori spoke, but before he could end the sentence, Eric took the liberty.

"We'll have that son of a bitch!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

John snuggled into his bed that night, content with the work he had done. Artemis Eburi had now gained an insight at what he had wanted most in life, at what was most important. Though, if John had been in the orc-slayer's shoes, he would have dropped the dark elf bitch the second he walked through the door. The man's eyes shifted to the picture of his beloved Anna on his nightstand, before drifting off to slumber.

If only Artemis Eburi had known that the man who had put him through so much was sleeping in the room right next door to him...

[SirArtemis]

Artemis woke in the comfort of his own bed, sitting up abruptly as if waking from some horrible nightmare. The images of his father's throat being cut were burned into his retina. He threw off his covers and checked his thigh, sure that a scar would be painted across the flesh.

There was nothing.

His breathing heavy, he checked the rest of his body. No cuts on his shins either. He threw his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, hopping up and down to test his strength, to see if there was any residual pain.

Again, there was nothing.

Everything seemed fine, and Artemis concluded that it was indeed all an awful nightmare.

'But it seemed so real... I could have sworn...'

Shaking his head, hoping that the awful images would fly off his head like water droplets from hair after a shower.

Despite the awful nightmare, the day had to go on. He rubbed his eyes, hoping to get rid of the last traces of a night's sleep, and put on his normal attire. The leather armor had no cuts either, no sign of him using it to stem the blood flow of the wound on his thigh.

'It was just a dream... It was just a dream...'

He gathered his belongings and made his way to the stairs, noticing that the door to the room next to him was shut. Someone must have rented that room out, though it was usually open.

As he descended down the staircase, Jay and Harki were talking by the bar, the dwarven barkeep polishing a mug as usual, and the dark elf sitting across from him as they chatted and smiled.

Images of Jay cutting his father's throat flittered across his vision.

'It was just a dream...'

As he continued to reiterate the message to himself, hoping to calm down, Harki said something that completely shattered that notion.

"Where ye been lad? I haven't seen ye in almost two weeks!"

[Taskmienster]

Watching You. :: I’ll be doing what I do for this, full commentary full rubric, and if you guys have any questions feel free to PM or IM me for sure. Your eternal love is also appreciated. :P I’ll separate your scores clearly next to each category and make sure the commentary is split accordingly in the rubric itself.



Continuity TM: 4 | Artemis: 5
Trap Master

:: I’m rather curious, in this situation, why you wanted to catch Artemis? Who is the Trap Master? Things like that instead of delving into your opponent’s background would be a little more helpful.

Artemis
:: Not entirely sure why you care enough about putting your past and your father’s memory back together. I got a little bit of who Artemis was, and what his past was from TM, but not enough of it from you. More reason for why you were put into this situation, such as why you cared enough to go through this or why TM would think that you’d want to would help.

Setting Both: 5

Pacing Both: 5

Dialogue TM: 5 | Artemis: 6

Action TM: 4 | Artemis: 5
Trap Master
:: I understand the “cold” part of the first test, and the reason behind it, but what exactly is the metaphorical reason why the key would be in his leg? Is there a reason that it was an arrowhead he had to dig it out with?

Artemis

:: "Getting up and picking his pants up, the man wrapped the leather pants around his wound to try and stop the blood flow,” :: From post 4 | did you wrap the pants around your leg? Or put them on and make them tight on your leg? Or tore them? It’s unclear what your action was.

Persona TM/Artemis: 6

Technique TM: 3 | Artemis: 5

Mechanics TM: 7 | Artemis: 8
Trap Master

:: Missing letters in certain words that makes the words not fit. Such as “allowing or the Trap Master” in the first post just before the break. There are a few times when you didn’t put in the “f” when you were writing “for”.

Artemis

:: “Needles stabbing all over,” :: comma instead of a period towards the end of post 4

Clarity TM: 8 | Artemis: 8

Wild Card TM/Artemis: 6


Score:
Trap Master: 53

Artemis: 59

Rewards:
TM: 300 exp | 50 gold
Artemis: 1000 exp | 100 gold

Notes

I’d like to point out that it’s very difficult to judge these types of threads as battles. The biggest issue is that… well… the two people aren’t really battling. One is shoved into a situation, the other watches. In this case, a lot of the rubric isn’t equal because one person has a MUCH better chance of doing something with the thread whereas the other person (TM) has no chance to really exhibit a lot of what’s in the rubric. As such, almost every category TM is going to be lower in…

[Taskmienster]

Exp and GP added.

SirArtemis is level 3!