This Is Not A Game

[Izvilvin]

((Closed!))

The blanket of night covered Radasanth's roads. The moon's reflection provided light from the city's tin and steel and reflected its light against the sea, exhibiting an eerie glow across the city. With it came the familiar scent of the water, unabashed by the smells of sweat and food that drowned it during the day.

Izvilvin dashed from roof to roof, his feet so silent against the pebbled plateaus. Near-invisible except for his hair, set alight by the moon, the drow moved effortlessly through the city. By his side were his familiar blades, his daggers and his sais; this would be a night of bloodshed. It was not an unfamiliar feeling for the warrior... the ex-assassin.

This was no mercenary board posting. Seth Dahlios, and the legend which surrounded him, were taken too seriously for that. This was not a man who was hunted; this was a man who was the hunter, someone that even an experienced warrior was polite and courteous and if at all possible, invisible, to. No tavern-dwelling axe-wielder had any business being involved with such a job. The details were delivered by courier, and with half the reward delivered up-front: five thousand gold. Every pence of which Izvilvin had donated back to Radasanth's university. Never again would he kill for gold.

Seth Dahlios was the kind of man Izvilvin lived to hate. So involved with his own endeavors, Izvilvin had long been ignorant of the killer - but the job arrived with a full account of Seth's transgressions, painting a gruesome picture. The warrior had been manipulated before, but a little research taught him that the truth of this man could not be denied.

He had taken it upon himself to seek vengeance for the innocents who had been wronged. Their blood was on Seth's hands. In a way, killing Seth would be like killing the assassin Izvilvin used to be. That assassin, needless to say, was a person Izvilvin desperately wished had never existed.

Finally, Seth appeared. Rounding the corner of a building and entering the road that led to the inn, the Hex Mage walked with a kind of cocky joy. Izvilvin's teeth ground together. As far as he was from the killer, and despite his superior position, he knew better than to try to take Seth by surprise. The report had included only a small amount of information on him, but that only acted as a deterrent.

Instead, the warrior leapt from the roof and landed in a roll, standing and making his way to the middle of the dusty road, a veritable wall between Seth and his family.

He knew he didn't need to say anything. Seth Dahlios was not a stupid man, and had probably faced this exact situation several times before. Clad entirely in black, Izvilvin took a quick moment to tie his lengthy white hair into a tight ponytail. This was not a game.

[Dissinger]

Seth had finally left Sei’s tomb, a smile on his lips. Every now and again, he was reminded that the good deeds he tried to perform did occasionally shine through to the surface. Though he was a man of many names, and a despicable reputation, the Lavinian Demon had died long ago. The almost split personality of the thief had been laid to rest in Reven, so long ago. He understood the truth of his situation when he sat in purgatory, awaiting a judgment that would never come.

Just as he was Seth Dahlios, he was also the Demon, but just as he was the Demon, he was also Seth Dahlios.

It was a cryptic puzzle for certain. Most would not comprehend just what that entailed. Seth himself had spent what felt like a millennium understanding just the scope of that simplistic phrase. He had so thoroughly divorced himself from the Lavinian Demon, that he had almost formed a complete second personality, much as he had during the vaunted year of death. The fact he could separate his soul yet again, showed just how fractured the damn thing had become in the wake of Hex Magic.

When he had accepted not only the responsibility, as he often told himself he had, but the actions as well[,i] he understood just what was to be done. He could never atone for what he was, and he had been forced to accept that fact. He could never escape the fact he was a monster. Rather than fight against such a title, Seth bore it now, and in doing so he had developed a sixth sense that rivaled his thief sense about being watched.

Which even now were going off like crazy.

Not even a stone’s throw from the tavern he had been using as a form of base for his daughter’s birthday vacation, he could feel the eyes upon him. They watched and they studied, possibly looking for weakness, possibly looking for strengths. Seth could tell that whoever it was, certainly respected him enough not to try a foolish tactic like attack from secret. That would have gotten them a knife to the gut, and a free trip to the apothecary. He had long since grown wise to [i]those nut cases.

When the man landed before him he didn’t even flinch. He saw the figure lithely roll, tucking with utmost precision, while cushioning the blow. The manner in which he rose from the street told Seth much. This man was going to be a pain in the ass. His stance held the fighter’s determination. His eyes however, were much like the Lavinian Demon’s own. While they looked calm and collected, they were lit up in anticipation. They held a muted joy that only came out in a fight.

Seth wouldn’t be walking away from this one easily, or possibly at all anymore. He looked upon the figure tying up his long white hair, and though the black clad figure held most of his body within the dark clothes, Seth could almost tell from the way the figure carried itself it was an elf of some kind, and the hair screamed Drow. How often had Seth seen one of them in his time amongst the now defunct Brotherhood’s Shadow?

Looking upon the figure he didn’t even bother to draw a weapon or prepare. Instead he leaned over, to look past it towards the tavern and gave a wistful sigh before he clutch the hat resting upon his head and looked down, “Don’t have time for a distraction. Don’t suppose you’re going to leave either. You’re really leaving me no choice are you?”

He didn’t even wait for a response before he clucked his tongue in irritation. Finally he tossed the satchel away, indicating that he was preparing to fight before he spoke sternly, “You’re keeping me from my family. If you have any idea of what that means, get the fuck out of my way…”

[Izvilvin]

Seth's voice echoed with the rasp of a man who had seen far, far too much in his life. Their quiet, dark road offered to response to the coming battle, choosing simply to act as their canvas. The moon painted them in dark hues.

Izvilvin rushed forward, his feet clapping gently against the cobblestone road. He pivoted right and left, his hair flashing in the moonlight, and suddenly a dagger flew forth from within it, whistling through the air as it saught Seth's throat.

He hadn't picked a job like this in a long, long time. The days of hunting and killing were behind Izvilvin, for the most part, but this was special. The details of Seth's crimes were gruesome and many, as the thief had amassed a grand repertoire of ways to kill.

Izvilvin recieved the job as he'd stopped in at his favored tavern. Delivered in an envelope by the bartender, it was not a straight order as he was accustomed to from Step - it was a plea for help. Edmond Graves' friends were wealthy enough to offer the money that they did. But it was the details they provided, the evidence of Seth's past deeds, that had brought Izvilvin to this place.

He thought of this reasoning as he drew two sai into his hands. He slid to a stop as he neared Seth, his left foot sliding against the ground, kicking up dust and pebbles. His hands flashed once each, the point of one sai diving for Seth's left thigh, the other in an uppercut designed to drive the point of his sai through Seth's job and into his brain.

[Dissinger]

Silence.

Silence as deep and profound as when Seth awoke to find he had killed his parents in a crazed power play. The would be assassin rushed forward a dagger stretching forth almost unseen in the light. A casual flick of his wrist saw his gauntleted hand deflect the blade, much as one would an annoying fly. His eyes, so cold and calculating watched the man rush closer.

There was a few things the man could do, he could be trying to crash his body into the man, force an encounter on the ground. He could be waiting to draw till the last second, force a guessing game on where the blade, or blades, would go. Seth remained still, not flinching even as the blade that had sought his throat clanked against the nearby building.

Then he saw it, the man slid to a halt, almost dangerously close. He was drawing steel in a smooth and readied motion, even as Seth pressed on the balls of his feet. The twin sai stabbed forward, ever closing in the wake of the backward moment of the thief. He whistled lowly before his casual stance threw out a lung popper in retaliation. The blade had very short distance to travel, giving that Seth had only put a few feet between them.

He wasn’t surprised to see his attack fail, as the man deflected it instinctively.

He grinned devilishly, perhaps reveling in his less than human nature as he laughed, “We done feeling each other out? I thought that was what the rookies did, throw out a few jabs here and there, get the blood flowing. Try to draw blood before the other bats an eye. Exciting the first few times I fought…”

Seth always was a talker in battle. Looking upon his foe his mouth began to ramble, he wasn’t even paying attention anymore to what he said as he took stock of the situation. The man had attacked so swiftly, Seth hadn’t gotten a chance to feel out where the attacks were going. That was why he had dodged. The guy was so fast, he wouldn’t be able to read moves, and that was a problem. Only because the man killed all forward momentum to put them into the attacks that would have pierced jaw and knee, had he lost the ability to follow after the Lavinian. They were very precise, designed to be done with as much clinical precision as possible.

Seth hated facing professionals, really he did.

Still, there was a nagging feeling as he watched the man. He wasn’t going to try to attack, merely evade his attacks by not standing where he COULD attack. He would dodge around the lamp posts, use a barrel as partial cover, deflect attacks with bits of trash kicked up in the attack way. Never once would he draw steel as he watched patiently, waiting for something.

He could smell something foul in the air, and it wasn’t garbage.

Bunny of Izvilvin is assuming use of his ability to deflect projectiles even if launched within a few feet of him. If you wish the projectile to hit (which I highly doubt) I will gladly edit.

[Izvilvin]

Izvilvin wasn't surprised by Seth's quickness. His attacks were precise and quick, but a seasoned warrior would have been able to avoid them. That was often the case with introductory attacks - they served each warrior in the same way, heating their blood, upping their momentum and adrenaline. The drow figured he would have the advantage if they fought at full speed for an extended period of time.

Seth's lung popper appeared from a an almost invisible movement, flashing out of the darkness like a bolt of light. Izvilvin brought his right arm across instinctively and with supernatural speed, just barely deflecting the knife with an iron sai.

The murderer, too, was fast. And he likely posessed many more projectile daggers than Izvilvin did. The warrior would have to stay sharp for those, as well.

He didn't pause to listen to Seth's words, despite what the thief might have expected. Nor did Izvilvin pause for more than an instant; as quickly as he'd skidded to a stop, he shifted his weight into his feet and pressed forward, reaching with those deadly sai. The moon shined bright in his focused eyes.

One reached in and slashed across for Seth's exposed throat, the strike stretched out just far enough to tear the man's esophogus unless he responded. Izvilvin drove forward for another uppercut, his fist clenched tightly around the supporting prongs of the sai - but this time after following through, his opposite hand flipped the sai and the drow threw it, with all his might, for Seth's right bicep. A wind dagger replaced it in his hand before either of them could blink.

Izvilvin stayed close, not interested in letting the thief turn and flee. The warrior was tenacious enough that he planned not to give Seth enough space to draw a weapon. He wouldn't be surprised, however, if the murderer surprised him. Izvilvin never deluded himself into thinking he knew an opponent fully.

((Bunny's totally fine!))

[Dissinger]

The Drow was immediately on the attack as Seth leaned back to avoid the attack meant to remove his precious voice box. Immediately his mouth was in motion again as he spoke up, “Hey now! I’m no cheap date here buddy. If you want to kill me you gotta pay for that privilege!”

The Drow continued to move into the thief causing him to hop skip and jump away from him. The uppercut missed again, and Seth began to see a wild and crazy pattern to this guy. However, the man was acting quickly and had already begun cocking his hand into preparation for the throw. Seth already knew the assassin’s muscles were too fast to follow, so he went for the next best thing, the eyes. They focused only a second on his right arm, before the blade flew out.

The Drow was already moving in the wake of the attack, when Seth began his counterassault. He couldn’t just let this guy keep on him, that would get old fast, he had to break out of the pattern of ducks dives and dodges. Instead of dodging or even deflecting the sai, his hand grabbed the flying piece of metal, before he spun wildly lashing out with the hunk of steel in a wild slash. The rogue knew that such strikes would hardly cause any damage, but they were also the hardest to predict, and for that reason he let go any pretense of form in the attack.

That done, he was more than certain the Drow would be sent on the defensive with such a stunning attack, and released the grip on his improvised weapon before twin daggers left their holsters on his hips. He then stood up straight and shrugged a bit, loosening his shoulders before saying, “Sorry I don’t go for that Akashiman crap. I’m in the market for some new knives; maybe I’ll use yours after I’m done gutting you for the mistakes you’re making…” He was already moving in to close the gap with the Drow, a dangerous smile on his face.

And yet he still couldn’t place the overbearing scent that assaulted him from somewhere.

[Izvilvin]

A warrior learned to adapt over time, to deal with different foes, different strategies. He'd come to Radasanth this night with a clear understanding of who he was facing, and what this man had done. Seth Dahlios had killed innocents, had stolen from the innocent, had hurt people who stood in his way simply because they'd stood in his way. No amount of taunting would penetrate the warrior's psyche.

Izvilvin hadn't been matched in battle for many, many years. He'd grown to a level of skill that few men could compare to. Seth's speed was surprising, but not a deterrent.

The pattern itself was something Izvilvin did on purpose. If Seth was overconfident, Izvilvin's repeated strikes for his throat could invite a counterattack. If the thief was less skilled with his blades than he was with his movement, the drow could turn a sloppy response into a deadly mistake.

Seth's eventual attack, however, was an unexpected one. With speed like lightning, the thief's hand flashed out to catch Izvilvin's thrown sai. Iron prongs flashed in the moonlight as the killer's hand came in hard and fast. Abandoning his attack, Izvilvin was forced to bend backward and to the side, twisting into a side-step to end his relentless assault. The sai's main prong narrowly missed the side of his neck - though Seth's attack was wild and quick, it was pinpoint accurate and aimed at the most damaging spot.

The drow's sai clattered against the street, echoing loudly in the silence of the night. Seth's boots provided sharp slaps behind his words.

A grimace on the drow's determined face, he stepped forward to meet Seth's approach. His first strike was familiar, an upward lunge for the thief's throat, aimed so that the prong of the sai would pierce the adam's apple. Seth, however, slid to the side with practiced ease, the dagger in his right hand shooting forth for Izvilvin's gut - the precise area below where his chestplate ended.

It was the counterattack the warrior was waiting for. He pivoted to the right, dropping the sai as he spun away from Seth's stab. In one smooth, measured movement, he drew Mjolnir from its sheath and slashed horizontally for Seth's back as he finished the spin. The white-hot weapon cut through the night sky like a bolt of deadly lightning.

((Seth's attack bunny was approved. Feel free to respond in kind.))

[Dissinger]

Pain rich and deep flashed through his mind, even as jolts of electricity caused his back to spasm, intensifying the feeling a hundred fold. Seth collapsed to his knees in the wake of the attack, as he could almost feel the blade scrape across his spine, putting a deep gash into the muscles of his back. He twitched slightly as the residual energy of the strike worked its way through his body and into the ground through his boots.

Gods be damned he hated professionals.

He barely had the presence of mind to keep a hold on his daggers, even as the residual energy caused his hands to spasm briefly. Even as the pain coursed through his system he had the presence of mind to block the follow up blow with Malice, the obsidian dagger. A spark flashed briefly when the blades touched and Seth’s eyes met with his assassin’s for the first time this fight.

It was then the scent became familiar…

He let a soft grin light up his face before he spoke, softly, only for the assassin, “I can smell it alright, gutter mud and blood.” Seth shoved back, using the man’s superior position to push the thief along the cobblestoned streets, his boots finding no purchase on the stones due to their smoothed nature. Getting a bit of breathing room he waited silently before he spoke up, “If you kill me, it won’t give you penance. Not now or ever, you’ll just be the monster they send freaks after to kill!”

Spite, the dragon bone dagger was placed back in its sheath as he gently fingered a lung popper’s throwing ring. The lighting was low to begin with, and the lung popper itself was treated to not reflect light. That was an advantage he would have to use now, as he quickly flicked his wrist, and threw the knife slightly slower than normal. If the man was reading his muscles, it wouldn’t do to go full speed. He’d have to go slightly slower, and hope to hit something important in the wake of the botched dodge. Looking upon the Drow he waited for the reaction before he threw another Lung popper, seeing how he’d handle a second, this one at full speed.

His back hurt, that much was true, and he was sure it was going to get infected if he didn’t clean it soon, but he didn’t care. He had much more important things to deal with, like another monster from the shadows.

[Izvilvin]

Mjolnir roared with triumph and consumed Seth's blood with a loud hiss, evaporating the crimson liquid with its heat. A line of blood splashed to the road in long droplets.

Izvilvin spun to face Seth, finishing his follow-through so that Mjolnir was in his left hand, out to the side. The sword lit up the area around it with flickering white light, moving in tandem with the rails of lightning that coursed the blade.

It was a relief to strike the first blow, for it gave Izvilvin both a tangible and intangible advantage. Seth would slowly lose his energy, surely, and was now aware of what the drow was capable of. If he grew desperate and sloppy, the mercenary would surely end things before long.

And yet, to the warrior's amazement, Seth showed no sign of worry. He still spoke with confidence and ease, as if he'd been in this very position a hundred times before. Izvilvin wondered how many warriors had come this close, only to be surprised by the thief's guile and diversity. And while Seth's words might have been accurate - eerily so - Izvilvin had tuned him out.

He noted the thief's arm and how it moved, and saw the lungpopper appear. While Seth's aim and reasoning were accurate, Izvilvin was a drow with superior night vision. What he saw in the darkness was a mix between normal sight and heat-based; the lungpopper was cool and steely grey against Seth's bright red form. It was with practiced precision that he brought Mjolnir across, smacking into the projectile and knocking it across the road into a nearby building's wall. The clang of metal on metal ricoched off of the surrounding buildings in a similar manner.

He went once more for Seth, breaking into a run. The second lungpopper he sidestepped, shifting his weight entirely and re-adjusting to run for Seth from the side, moving with the grace only an elf could possess. With Mjolnir in one hand and a wind dagger in the other, Izvilvin got within range and stabbed forth with the sword for the center of Seth's chest, the blade tearing through the night like the beam of a focused lantern.

[Dissinger]

“Fucking Drow,” Seth mumbled as he watched his attempt at faking out the warrior fail. The dark warrior came forward, only moving off to the side when the second lung popper clattered off a wall beyond the battlefield. Seth saw the stab coming center mass, and did the only thing he could, he got low, lower than the stab.

He of course had nothing on the speed of the elf who scored deeply into the vest he wore, even as Seth began the retaliation. Used to the pain he could feel as the spasms began once more, Seth used it to his advantage, using the energy to stagger the attack as best as he could. He wasn’t going to get a lot of opportunities like this and so he would have to make the damage count. Of course, the thief had a myriad of ways in doing so. He wasn’t known for a lot, but fighting brutally had been high on his list of accomplishments.

The obsidian blade of Malice sunk deeper than the Drow would have liked, it wasn’t all to the hilt, but Seth had scored a solid wound, before the thief’s lip curled into a feral grin, “Salt heals all wounds…”

Malice, was let go, even as the thief sent his knee forward, causing the two to break apart, the dim glow of sowing salt leaving the blade, even as the pain he had inflicted would probably be getting to unbearable levels. Seth arched his back slightly, uncoiling the tension the Drow had forced upon it before he grumbled, “God dammit, what the hell is that? A lightning based enchantment? I hate getting fried as much as the next guy, but that’s pretty damn ridiculous there buddy…”

The thief was in part being blatantly foolish, and part baiting his opponent into attacking. One hand sheathed spite into its holster, even as he hunched over again and groaned softly. He was getting too old for this; hundreds of fights in a few years took its toll on the thief’s body as he felt his nerves steadily deaden the pain he was feeling. Partial electrocution was one of the few things that still bothered the thief, because it fried the nerves to such a degree that he couldn’t ignore everything. It was like having all his nerves lit on fire.

If the Drow took advantage of this moment, he’d be getting a prevalida blade, right to the heart for his troubles, regardless of anything he could inflict on the Lavinian. It was time to end the playtime, he had gotten what he wanted out of this fight, and if he took a near fatal wound, so what? He still had his healing magic, and the Drow would be dead anyways. It would just be another attempt on his life and he could add it to the countless others. He was fairly certain there wasn’t a member of royalty still alive that had survived as many attempts on their life as he had.

Not that that wasn’t something to brag about in itself…

[Izvilvin]

Mjolnir hissed and bit deep into Seth's protective vest, but Izvilvin couldn't tell if he'd pierced flesh.

Seth was down in a crouch now, ripe for the picking. Izvilvin moved to step forward and end the struggle, but the murderer drove forward as well, despite the danger he was in. Seth's aggression caught the warrior off-guard. Malice drove into Izvilvin's thigh, tearing through flesh and scraping against bone.

He retreated, a sneer on his face. The pain was sensational, but it was only going to get worse. There was something unusual about this black dagger...

Izvilvin didn't comprehend the spell's activation words - it didn't translate well. But the words Seth murmured were not just for color, like his other taunts. These words carried magic between them and amplified the pain Izvilvin was feeling in his leg. It was if he'd been stabbed by a lightning-enchanted blade as well, as waves of pain surged through him.

His eyes were forced to narrow as they glared at Seth. Izvilvin managed to step back and create room between them, knowing he had to act quickly before the killer simply stood and finished him. A lesser warrior might have faltered, but Izvilvin had a superhuman tolerance for pain.

He sheathed his wind dagger with a shaking hand and grunted, grabbing the handle of Malice and pulling it out of his leg, dropping it to the ground and stumbling back. Blood spurted out of the wound, shining crimson in the moonlight.

It was all he could do to remain standing, so Izvilvin didn't attempt an attack on Seth. Rather, he drew Icicle into his free hand. The icy blue blade shone in the middle of the road, bright and releasing a steady, constant mist from its enchanted damascus.

He needed a chance to bandage his wound, but wasn't sure he'd get the chance any time soon. It was deep and bleeding profusely, but Izvilvin could only hope to end this quickly.

[Dissinger]

Set grinned wider as he saw the Drow not budge. In the entirety of the fight, he had been forced on the defensive, forced to bide his time, and finally it all paid off. The warrior was now forced to defend as his leg took the bite of Malice, and was forced to wait for Seth to attack. The Lavinian let his blades come to life in his hands, even as he approached, the blades twirling and dancing within his hands, obfuscating the attack that would come.

He didn’t just throw these parlor tricks for show.

The cloak and dagger style of the Lavinian Thief’s Guild emphasized style that denied substance. The twirls were designed in such a way, that it looked like the Lavinian was showing off as he approached, even as the blades became almost like gloves on his hand. This served to help protect the most valuable asset of a knife fighter, his hands. When a true fighter looked upon it, most would scoff at the style, calling it nothing but parlor tricks, not understanding the nuances of the style.

That was just how a Lavinian wanted it.

The attack aspect was usually done with the blade coming to a halt mere moments before the strike. In an inexperienced thief, the halt came noticeably before the blow. When a master did it, the frame of time to react was akin to the blink of an eye. This was what Seth went for, even as he growled out lowly;

“You’ll be surprised what you can live through!”

The words spoken, he slashed at the would be assassin, crimson energy crackling about his form. He sliced and twirled with the grace of a true knife fight, gone was all pretense of play. The energy crackled between the blades, even as Seven Deaths hovered about him. A wry grin lit up his face, even as the energy played in his eyes, giving him easily another reason for his moniker of the Lavinian Demon. Words once more poured from his mouth as he spat, “Show me what you got punk. I’ve had far better men try to kill me than this, and they aren’t even fit to lick the dirt from my boots!”

The second he got a chance, a fist was going to punch, sending all that energy crackling right into the drow…

[Izvilvin]

Steadily the pain began to dull and fade, receding from Izvilvin's senses like a bad taste in his mouth would be washed away. Malice's wound was not closing or healing, and Seth's sinister spell had not dissipated from the warrior's system, but Izvilvin was pouring all of his will into fighting off the pain. His mind was overcoming the physical pain by sheer force of desire.

The murderer's expression darkened, as if he was sensing his prey was losing the ability to fight back. Izvilvin glared at Seth's lowered, wrinkled, shadowed face and saw hatred there he had never seen before - the human beneath that anger had been shattered sometime long ago. Whether Seth knew it or not, his human, father exterior was nothing more than a shell. The drow saw his soul, and there was no humanity there.

His leg soaked with his own crimson blood, Izvilvin forced himself to endure the weight of his body and brought the swords to bear, the light from Mjolnir and Icicle's glowing blades intertwining between the two fighters. He was matching Seth's twirling blades with his own swords, moving them with a similar effortless grace, his wrists turning and moving in tandem, creating an illusionary dance.

It was a trick he'd perfected as a youth, though the time it took to get used to the weight of a short sword and utilize its momentum in such a way took years. It was a display he used to intimidate lesser foes he didn't wish to physically harm, but it's true ability would be used here: he could strike at any moment without giving away the source. He was in constant movement and could jut the point of a blade out from any angle, resuming the twirling of the blade a moment later.

Izvilvin was not foolish enough to assume Seth had any less skill than he. Not anymore.

As the murderer stepped forward and slashed, his voice drawling out of his throat like the grating gears of Ettermire's machines, Izvilvin stepped around the strike and turned, dragging Icicle in a downward sweep to keep Seth at bay while he re-adjusted. The murderer had summoned a red energy Izvilvin couldn't wrap his head around, not knowing what the properties of this magic were - was he enchanting his knives somehow?

He soon got his answer, as Seth made a gesture and sent the glowing ball forward. Izvilvin was prepared, Mjolnir slashing downward and right through Seven Deaths' projectile. Right through it.

Izvilvin had the vague sensation of a knife through his throat, had the impression that Seth was before him, that same menacing glare pasted on his face and with a dagger buried deep in Izvilvin's neck. He was reminded of his past, of how murderous he had once been - Izvilvin was an assassin for many years, and had used this exact method to kill so, so many people.

But he snapped out of it quickly. Seven Deaths' manipulative powers worked but briefly, fended off by Izvilvin's powerful resistence to magics that invaded his mind or heart. His will had fought off the spell's effect.

He shook off the illusion and found himself back in the present, but Seth was already driving forward, a shining, glistening dagger in his hand. It was driven deep into Izvilvin's breastplate, directly in the center.

A prevalida weapon. Buried in Izvilvin's delyn armor.

The warrior felt a concussive force rock him, felt his feet leave the ground, but all he saw was a bright flash of light that burned the eyebrows from his face. He was thrown back like a leaf in the wind, his armor exploding from the impact of the two volatile metals.

[Dissinger]

Seth sent the projectile into the Drow that had attacked him. While normally he wasn’t the type to attack immediately after unleashing Seven Deaths he had a hunch that he wasn’t going to get his kill that way. There was no mistaking the fact his opponent was particularly strong, nor that he could shrug off most of what Seth had to throw at him. So, unlike every other time, where he would stay back and wait for Seven Death’s to produce an outcome, Seth stabbed in, hoping to pierce that chainmail shirt the Drow had one with his prevalida blade.

The explosion rocked the alleyway, sending the Lavinian Demon into the nearby wall, before causing him to slump temporarily. His world was silent in the wake of the concussive blast, and he was sure he was momentarily blinded, as he couldn’t see anything either. Whatever had just happened, Seth was at a serious disadvantage. While the sight would bother him only momentarily, without the audio cues to pick up on, he couldn’t blind fight nearly as effectively as he could with his hearing intact. A groan escaped his lips instinctively, yet he couldn’t hear it, only feel the vibrations in his neck that told him he had groaned. Anyone with their hearing intact would have heard it at least.

He blinked blindly about before finally his vision began to come back. Slowly at first, with light forming shadows across his eyes, before they finally let in enough light to actually see what was going on. His hearing came back as he heard the chattering of people nearby. He shook his head and looked about only to find the Drow was gone. He frowned looking about the area before he relaxed against the wall that supported him even now and let out a sigh.

He knew better than to assume his assassin would be dead.

Waiting he finally heard the hurried footsteps and heard the shouts, as even more people came out in the alleyway to see the Lavinian leaning against the wall. Familiar hands roamed his body, checking for any serious injuries before he heard her voice, and a grin lit up his face, “Gods above Seth, are you alright?”

“It’ll take more than that to kill me,” came the rote reply. He felt a hand slap him across the face before he heard her stern voice once more;

“Don’t you ever scare me like that again.”

Seth looked up into those worried brown eyes, the eyes of the only person he held onto the scraps of his humanity for before he hugged her close. He knew it’s what she needed right now, to be reassured he didn’t die again. She clung to him like a second skin even as her shoulders shook with worried sobs. His hand gently stroking her hair before he whispered, “It’s okay, I’m still here…”

He heard footsteps nearby and looked up to see his daughter looking down at him. She gave him a look of puzzlement, seeing everything in the alleyway. He could tell she was wondering exactly what had happened, and perhaps after things had died down he could show her. For know he felt his back spasm again and briefly tightened his hold on Liliana, who had managed to pull herself back together. She looked at him concerned before he let out a soft chuckle, “Have I ever told you how much I hate lightning?”

“Not recently,” Liliana admitted as they slowly got up. Seth grunted softly before he felt her slender frame shore up his body on the left. He nodded softly, not bothering to argue with her about how he really was fine. She would take any excuse to be close, and he couldn’t begrudge her that. When he felt his daughter shore him up on the right he let out a grin before he said firmly;

“Well, let’s just say that I like it about as much as I like traveling by ship…”

[Izvilvin]

The impact felt strangely dulled, as if he'd been struck with a massive mallet through several inches of fabric. His feet left the ground and Izvilvin was soaring across the road, into an alleyway, and through a stack of crates and sacks of garbage. His ears were ringing and if it was possible, his eyes would have been, too.

The thick, metallic taste of blood was in his mouth, and the warrior struggled to spit it out. He could feel his arms and legs, could move them, but actually rising and making his way back to the street to check on Seth's condition was proving difficult. Izvilvin had taken the brunt of the impact, being so close to the armor.

As unexpected and game-changing as the explosion was, though, Izvilvin was lucky to have landed the way he did. He'd crashed through a pile of garbage that had toppled on top of him, hiding him from the concerned citizens who rushed from their homes to check the source of the commotion. The warrior was helpless enough at the moment that he'd have been in serious danger.

For the time behind, he was able to slowly push aside some debris from on top of him and peer out into the road, where Seth was being aided by a woman and a young girl. His family, Izvilvin assumed. If his ears weren't still ringing, the drow would have been able to listen in and gain some valuable information.

But was it worth it?

Izvilvin had to consider the predicament he'd put himself in. A little less luck, and he could have been dead from the reaction of his armor and Seth's weapon. The drow's complex, his need to seek vengeance upon those who preyed on the weaker, was not solving Izvilvin's fear of his own past. It was only a short-term answer to a bigger problem, a bandage on a severed limb.

He watched as Seth was helped away by his family. Izvilvin didn't think Seth had changed, but even as he thought that, he knew that he himself had changed. Perhaps everyone deserved the chance, the benefit of the doubt.

If the human killer hadn't changed, however, Izvilvin would be back. More prepared, and more motivated, to end Seth's life.

(('Spoil': I'd like my armor to not be destroyed please :p))

[Revenant]

Full rubric, full commentary requested. Izvilvin’s scores are in blue, Dissinger’s are in red.

STORY

Continuity (6/5) – Both of these characters have a lot of story that go with them. And though neither of you delved too deeply into who your characters are and what events led them, Izvilvin pulled ahead here.

Setting (4/3) – Setting is described at the beginning and, less so, at the end. There wasn’t really much in the middle though. Again, Izvilvin put more effort in here.

Pacing (8/8) – There was a great flow throughout this thread. The limited bunnying that you both used really pulled this along.

CHARACTER

Dialogue (5/7) – Izvilvin, your character’s lack of words seemed that they were well within character so I judged Izvilvin’s internal monologue as a form of dialogue. Unfortunately, even then there wasn’t much distinguishing between his actions and thoughts. Dissinger, your phrases were short but really showed off the venom in Seth.

Action (8/8) – Action, lots of action here. Two high-powered characters going after one another was a thoroughly entertaining read and not something I get to go through every day.

Persona (5/7) – Seth’s emotional gamut in this thread really showed the raging psycho that lays beneath the veneer of a family man. I get the idea that, while Seth says that he hates the game, it’s really where he feels he belongs. Izvilvin, nothing seemed to faze you, but there wasn’t really any passion either. You felt cold and emotionless the entire time, and even your spite towards Dahlios was bland.

WRITING STYLE

Technique (5/7) – Both of you wrote very well, but Dissinger’s use of repetition really hammered home the “been there, done that” feel to his character.

Mechanics (7/4) – Dissinger, make sure that you use code for italics, bolding, or the like, correctly.

Clarity (8/8) – This was really a very clear read. A couple of awkward phrases here and there and some muddying of the waters where some of the fighting actions occurred kept this from a perfect score.

WILD CARD

Wild Card (7/7)

TOTAL: 63 / 64

Izvilvin receives 1125 exp and 150 gp.
Dissinger receives 4125 exp and 140 gp.

[Taskmienster]

Exp and GP added.