No Honour (Duffy Vs. Yari)

[Duffy]

There Is No Honour Among Thieves (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YcoGZUzMoTA)


2406


It had been in this very arena Duffy noted, that he had first encountered his first legend. As he strolled across the hot sand of the battleground the name Teric Bloodrose echoed in his mind. He was nothing more than a gnat then, a child trying to pierce the armour of decades of experience with iron daggers, quick wit and youthful exuberance. Somehow Duffy had preserved for just long enough to catch the old man off guard and tear through his pride. His dying riposte had sent them both off into obscurity in a crescendo of fiery justice.

He cocked his head to the false sun that hung overhead and smiled. The turgid and ancient arcana of the monks jettisoned waves of heat down onto the desert expanse and he peered through the heat mirage at the arena, trying to spy a glimpse of the man he had come to spar with. A forest of tall wooden columns and monkey bars, mockeries of their natural counterparts but beautiful and eerie at the same time barred his path. They gave way at the centre of the arena and formed a natural amphitheatre. It was here, Duffy had been told, that the acrobatic duellists and dervishes from far and wide practiced their ancient ways against the more modern and blunt instruments of war developed on Corone.

Today the bard would meet another legend. Yari Rafanas held as much fear and prominence in the young man’s mind as Teric had done, only now there was the additional element of respect. The ancient adage No Honour Amongst Thieves might have held its ground here, but Rafanas was a name to be revered, and in his dealings with the new Thieves’ Guild and his encounters in the slums of Scara Brae, he felt confident enough to handle himself around such scum regalia. Even if he had to wager part of his soul to bring the man out into the open.

It had been Ruby’s idea to challenge the man, after she had heard rumours amongst the noble houses that the Bandit Brotherhood was afoot once more, or at least, that somebody had begun a similar operation. With Lucian gone, the troupe was expanding into theatrical pursuits once more and time was pressing on. What better opportunity than now, she had said with far too much eagerness, to forge a new union and introduce oneself to the man you hold in such high esteem?

“It ain’t you on the chopping block,” Duffy mumbled, shedding the memory and plucking up the courage to approach the arena’s centre, to stand at the heart of the coming storm in plain sight. His black hair was lacquered with sweat already, and he ruffled it to keep it out of his eyes. His dark wraps were absorbing the heat, and he regretted the tone and resurrection that had cast upon him a darker visage. He bounced once, heard the click of his climbing spikes, and twice to check that they were not damaged from his travels and then came to a standstill.

He unsheathed Wainwright’s Riposte and Tooth and waited, eyes set firmly on the distant door. He thought of all the possibilities and dirty tricks he could pull, but festered on the failures those ideas had brought him in the past. He was facing someone who had lived his own life on the streets, lived and breathed Duffy’s boyish and lofty dreams, faced danger and death far more malefic than the Dark Bard or the troupe’s encounter with Lorenor…this was a legend born of Duffy’s own dreams, one he had placed on a pedestal, and now dared to challenge. This was a fight of skill, and his many daggers and the Katarhna were all the skills he needed.

Honour would have nothing to do with it, and the only thing that could come between Yari and the Tantalum, was a clash of steel and a regaling whirl of witty banter. Duffy cocked a wry smile, twirled his daggers, and beckoned the myth to enter.

[Yari Rafanas]

On queue, the door's handle turned downward. Hinges stressed and cried as the door crept open to reveal the shadowy corridors of the Citadel. From the darkness one could barely make out the shape of a man, garbed in deep blues and protected by the darkest of leathers, his form accented by shimmering prevalida studs in various patterns and arrangements—His body was like a constellation against the midnight sky, inching forward towards the sunny battlefield. As he emerged, the shadows melted away any mystery that remained, revealing the myth that had been beckoned: Yari Rafanas, former Concordian royalty and Scara Brae swindler, had finally made his return to the Citadel proving grounds.

It seemed an appropriate time as any. The Ai'Brone monks were practically salivating at the chance to bring the old brigand warrior back to their halls. When he approached the order and signed his name against the paper, they scurried away with the parchment and posted it on a board mostly devoid of names, claiming, “This is a list of those who risk their souls in our arena. Your name is still whispered in the streets and honored in the forests, surely they will come fight the King of Thieves—back from the dead! What soul have you to lose?”

Perverted monks and their desire for bloodshed aside, Yari knew what he was risking coming to Radasanth's arenas. All manner of magi and mercenaries meddled here, and without a steady network of information like the days of old, Yari had little clue what to expect from his challenger. He had a lithe appearance, certainly much sleeker than Yari, but the ex-king had come to expect that from duelists who were not gifted with the ability to bend time around them. The knives, dark armor, and the arrogance to stand toe to toe Concordia's savior, however, was enough to invite caution. The young man before him could either be a local rabble trying to act tough with their daddy's weapon collection or he could very well be the next Gild Sorrain. The name itself stung to think about.

Yari scoffed. The heat had already made its mark on his brow in the few moments he had been exposed to it. He continued grumbling at his opponent's choice in a desert and angrily removed his cloak. A set of his own knives were revealed, strapped in various places at his sides. A kukri dangled loosely in his right hand as he made his way through the wood pillar maze. One thumb traced underneath the back of his shirt and vest, letting his skin breathe as his sulky steps finally came to a halt ten feet before the challenger.

“Don't tell me you're what I'd look like if I grew up in Fallien.” Yari prodded. “Not in the mood for anymore the Ai'Brone's twisted humor.”

[Duffy]

"If I grew up in Fallien, Mr Rafanas, I wouldn't need to be here to focus my blades and parry away the ills of others." Duffy's reply was dry but snappy, and bounced in time to his own buoyant footwork. It wasn't as if Duffy knew were Fallien was, mind, but he liked to keep up the appearance of being wise beyond his ever increasing years.

As he thought of his next phrase, he gave the legend that stood before him the once over, taking the time to analyse every nuance of the man's attire and gather as much misinformed knowledge as he could. Even if the stories were half true, after all, this would be a trial that would test Duffy's reflexes to the apex of their limits, twist and contort his limbs to their very extremes.

"I grew up somewhere much more dangerous, and somewhere I gather is familiar to you," he raised an eyebrow questioningly, despite not having asked a question. Despite his theatrical talents, worldly wiles and sarcasm he still quite hadn't mastered the lost art of rhetoric.

"Scara Brae...it was there that 'eard about you, and there I came to want to be you in some respects."

He clicked his neck with a roll of the head to the left then the right, and levelled Wainwright's Riposte to his idol, covetous rage firing away in his eyes like a furnace, brim to bursting with energy.

"Despite that honour, let's get down to business." He didn't waste any more time, having learned that biding one's time with words just tended to piss people off. He skittled forwards, arms spread up and inward like a barbed swan's descent into the crystal lake of myth, and fell upon Yari with a double thrust of his weapons and a slight boyish cackle.

[Yari Rafanas]

It was that same type of enthusiasm that had made Yari a legend on the small island of Scara Brae. Due mostly in part to the his exploits across Corone, Yari had attracted the attention of the infamous entrepreneur Max Dirks and struck up a bargain with the man. The bandit king was hired as one of the a small handful of warriors to operate and compete as Pagoda Masters, where each would offer assistance and combat training at a hefty price. New warriors and wizards itching to learn from the greatest warriors of Althanas were instead treated with unbalanced beatdowns, their small amount of gold swindled, and their pride shattered. All except for one, Yari recalled.

Gild.

The familiar sting returned. His opponent was pulling painful strings now, upsetting the brigand. Already he lost his footing, caught off guard by two swift strikes from the man before him.

Yari raised the his front-heavy knife to deflect the first of the two attacks, sending his enemy's blade out of harm's way as the brigand stepped to his right. He led his kukri to meet the second strike, but the blade came too quickly. Steel crashed against steel violently, and Yari's unfamiliar weapon was disarmed, whistling away and sinking its edge into the sand at the edges of the amphitheater.

Rafanas dropped his right knee and tucked his body into an evasive roll away from his opponent. He popped out of the maneuver elegantly, his frame tucked low and his arms gripping his chest. His fingers clenched, as if grabbing invisible throwing daggers, and then he threw his arms in a wide arc. Tiny pebbles of light spiraled forward from his figertips towards the other duelist, peppering the battlefield. Each mystical orb carried the weight of eons within, and every one aimed to anchor his foe in the past.

[Duffy]

Duffy's over confidence, exuded in waves of arrogance and feigned pretence did not deliver as much enjoyment as he had hoped. On the one hand, he had not expected his blades to strike an alpha blow there and then, but on the other, he had not expected Yari's legendary riposte to be quite so quicksilver in nature. He looked down, then left, then followed the brigand as he simply melted out of the second dagger's path and pulled a face that might've belonged to a small disgruntled child, suddenly bereft of his favourite toy.

"Was that something you learned in Fallien?" He chided, turning on the spot to square up to his opponent. He took the brief lull in activity to peel away his bandanna and outer layer, leaving the tight, aero-dynamic and sleeveless shirt covering his upper body. He regretted making such a brash mark as soon as the specks of light formed and whirled towards him with pious crackles of illumination.

He ducked, rolled, wobbled and leapt to the right out of the way of the first volley, but the sustained hail of pebble sized projectiles took it's toll. Despite his reflexes, who were at best a fickle but talented mistress, he turned back into the storm thinking himself invincible.

"Is that all yo-" Smack.

A light sphere collided with his cheek and span him into a whirl in a clockwise direction. His arms flailed like a pirouetting ballerina and he stumbled backwards, not quite toppled but certainly shaken. He corrected himself and turned back to Yari, his cheek reddened but otherwise unharmed.

"What was that?" He rasped, never one to truly appreciate the potency and subtle art that encompassed magic and illusion. With quick steps he began to walk forwards, but at once realised he had spoken too soon.

Duffy Bracken saw the world in a constant wired perspective that had a sense of urgency, thrill and exhilaration. Every time he moved, he felt the world move with him, as if it had to catch him up to not sunder reality itself. For a while his hearing trailed, and the familiar echoes of The Aria sounded dim and dull. The light sphere had seemingly stolen his momentum, trapped his guile and speed in the momentary twang of pain that had stricken his skin. The sensation was indescribably backwards, but quantifiable by a sluggish and heavy weight placed suddenly on the shoulders.

"What in the world?!" He tried to pull his daggers up to cross into a vibrato defence, but they weighed so much they felt like bastard swords, if not steel pylons or castle walls. "Think that's...funny...do you?" He grimaced, as if struggling against the bonds that shackled him would simply break them beneath his hatred.

"It'll take more than that to put me down!" The challenge was undeniable, but his heart thudded in his chest as he struggled to not collapse from his own weight. He was daring Yari to try something like that again, with sweat pouring from every orifice and fear drowning him further still.

[Yari Rafanas]

“You're right,” Yari chuckled and rose from his crouching position, his arrogant grin finally making an appearance against his scruffy, damp cheeks. “It'll take these.”

His fingers traced his sides and wrapped around the handles of his two favorite knives. He fluidly drew them from their sheaths at his hips and held them forward, his quick and flashy movements contrasting the sluggish defense raised by his opponent. The knives themselves were nearly as legendary as their owner. Dubbed the Shark Daggers, the mythril blades were cool and clean, their metal warped into curved into vicious teeth.

Rafanas began a confident and quick march towards his anchored enemy. With time on his side, he knew now would be the moment to disregard his foe's questions and extract the necessary information, starting with the man's name and then perhaps more. It would not take long before the effects of his magic would wear off and Yari would be forced to end this conflict, his chance at answers gone along with the blood of his enemy, soaked up into the hot desert sand.

“I'll have your name now,” the bandit demanded as he stepped deftly into range, “It'd be selfish of you to keep it in death.”

Yari's badgering was punctuated by two swift, upward strikes, intentionally directed towards his enemy's lifted weapons. It was an effort to clear his target's defenses and leave him vulnerable. The gap would be the perfect opening for the followup kick from the brigand's arctic-hide boot. A strong, deliberate planting of his foot straight into his opponent's chest to really put the pressure on.

[Duffy]

The clash of blades signalled a clash of minds and Duffy's spine tingled with anticipation, the fear placed on his shoulders like a millstone suddenly lifted by the potential of something great forming them. Of course, this was not the first time he had wagered his life on the formation of a friendship, but somehow, with gold on the table, it seemed more real and tangible.

Yari's threats rattled about in his theatrical skull for a flash forward moment of clarity. As the man's knee rose, Duffy smiled...

"Take it...I've plenty more were that came from!"

He pushed against the parried weapons and flopped backwards, the weight Yari's magic still stiffened his limbs as he leant like a reed in a breeze. The upward thrust struck him in the chest and he fell bluntly onto his backside. In that same movement he rolled and flipped, lifting his legs up into the air to spin fully around into a low monkey stance. With a slap, his boots unsheathed the spikes that formed a part of the Trappings of Sparrows and he snarled up at his opponent with an upward, cat like stare.

"I've many more lives, many more memories, many millions of ounces of trust to bring to bare to show you the monster and martyr you've created. You have to face up to the responsibility of idolisation someday!" With a bruising chest, Duffy scooped forward and span both of his blades upwards in tandem.

He aimed for Yari's daggers and at the same time, returned the follow-up kick that had knocked the leaden light from his limbs at last. Only, Duffy's point was a little sharper, a little more polished, and a little more lacking in finesse.

[Yari Rafanas]

“... responsibility of idolization-”

The words cut into the bandit king. Idolization. Flattery. Fame. Mimicry. All results of living under the eye of Corone and all of Althanas, name etched into the history of the world and woven into the many threads and lives of its inhabitants. The duelist was right. It was all a result of Yari's arrogance. If it were not for the bandit king's actions, warriors like Gild Sorrain would not have rose to power. If it were not for his haughtiness, he would not have left himself open for such a well-executed counterattack.

The Shark Daggers played their part in the dance of knives, clashing with his enemy's teeth and taking it just as well as they dished it out. This of course knocked his arms away, and then came the boot. Iron caught leather and vlince as the hidden blade jammed into Yari's ribs. There was a sick thud and puncturing sound it stabbed into his armor, and with it came a realization that he had been hit. Every nerve in Yari's being screamed move!

Concealed magics exploded through his limbs and in the blink of an eye Yari was gone. Dust and sand kicked up where he once stood, leaving barely any visible trail on where he went. A keen eye would have seen the sand flare all at once leading a few dozen feet away, where Yari was already climbing the second story “branch” on one of the many pillar structures surrounding the arena to gain distance. He paused momentarily, adrenaline still pumping, felt his side, and cursed under his breath.

“Definitely not sweat. Vlince caught most of it though.”

He pulled his form up and over a bar, balanced almost perfectly on the thin limb and peering down into the battlefield. He shouted, his smirk returning. “Alright! Fine! Don't need your name that badly. Just tell me... who fed you all your info and put you up to this? Gild? That bastard Dirks? With moves like that, you've gotta be a criminal.”

[Duffy]

Duffy followed Yari as he climbed up the pillars and curled the corner of his lip as he slipped deep into thought. The slow lethargy he had felt under the pressure of the thief king's spell had finally lifted. He felt buoyant and energetic enough to give chase, but it was not that simple as something else glued his feet to the floor...

Admiration.

"Do you really think of all the people in the world, that Max Dirks would have sent me here?" He shrugged his shoulders and the sound of his arms falling to his thighs echoed around the illusionary forest. He thought for a moment longer and tried to reconcile his past lives with his present. He had been a criminal, once, before the Tantalum Troupe had taken him in, and before Ruby had sung a song of healing to restore the use of his injured hand.

"I am no criminal..." sorrow lingered on the corners of his words as they drifted out, and he held up the palm of his left hand to let the sunlight catch it and Yari fall into the waves of revelation. "I was just a boy, an orphaned child lost in Scara Brae. A street runner gang found me and took me in as one of their own. They measured their merit on the strength of their ability to mimic the actions of the Bandit Brotherhood, their masculinity diminished if theft was not part of their every day routine; violence their night-time dance..." The bard slowly walked to the foot of a pillar adjacent to Yari's perch and set his hand on it's cold base.

"When I refused to take part, they beat me." He jumped, grabbed the lowest post and pulled himself upright with a spiralling flip, and then leapt again off the back of the tuck to reach the second. With each subsequent spring, he shot upwards like a howler monkey in a rage, quick lightning twitches to the sky.

At the very top of the pole, he looked down fifteen feet to Yari. "When I began to speak of all the good things you could do, even as a Bandit King, they beat me harder for perverting their perspective, and in the final moment, they drove my own dagger through my palm, so that I could never steal again. They exiled me from the only family I had."

"I felt brave, until the Tantalum found me I survived, dreaming of becoming you one day and taking back the freedom lost from the street gangs. I wanted to unite them all under one banner and turn their world upside down for good." It had been a long time since he had recanted this tale and a tear rolled down his cheek to mingle with the salty sweat.

"I stole, and the troupe suffered because of it, but I saw the light. I found a new meaning even though I still admire you, revile you..." he grimaced, "hate you for being an idol."

With enough time wasted and his explanation given Duffy kicked forwards. His aim was not for the safety of a branch or for the girth of the pole itself, but for the temple of Yari; the spot right between his eyes. The plucky bard rolled forwards as he flew and span twice before he had even crossed the halfway distance between man and boy. As he descended he withdrew Wainwright's Riposte from beneath the folds of his demi-cloak.

He had every blood lust in his eyes now, and had every reason to drive the Dagger That Took right back into the Man That Stole's memory. Whatever reasons Yari had accepted the wager, be it ego, money or fame, Duffy's memories were the true bet, dangling on the table ready to be scooped up victoriously. He almost longed to be rebuked, for his dagger to be pushed aside, and for the retaliatory strike to be painful - that way, he could be absolved of his fixation and send Yari the Hero into the mists of time, so that the Scourge and The Tantalum could finally have their revenge...

"Raaaaargh!" He screamed gluttonously with a smile as the wind whistled in his ears, and the folds of his clothes flapped like feathers falling. He descended dagger first, head second, soul third.

[Yari Rafanas]

((Slight bunnying approved.))

Yari had come to the Citadel to revel in its glory and show Corone's warriors that there was some truth in the legends. He wanted nothing more than to show off his skill and combative nature—to let the world of Althanas know that his soul could cheat death even without the aid of Ai'Brone magic. Signing his life away to the Ai'Brone was sure to drive men with grudges or his many admirers to the Citadel hall for battle, but it was only when his opponent began to recite his reasons for fighting that it really hit Yari. Though his ego often spoke of his legendary attributes and great influence on the land of Corone, Rafanas rarely had anyone come right out and say that his exploits actually meant something.

Now, climbing the tree before him, was a man he had never met, cursing his name and influence on his life. The King of Thieves felt a mixture of arrogance, flattery, and guilt. True, his actions were meant to inspire freedom across Althanas, but he did not expect to find and fight a man that actually agreed with and idolized his lifestyle. Yari realized now that what he thought was a fight about his past rivalries with Gild and other high-profile criminals of his time was actually a story belonging to the dedicated duelist before him. There was an obligation now, more than ever, to give the man what Yari assumed he wanted: revenge.

Unfortunately, Yari was the selfish type.

Rafanas wiped the sweat from his nose during his opponent's dialogue, taking into account the predicament he was in. Pain from the cut under his ribs was spreading, and Yari knew his wound (in addition to the poor footing on the slim branch) would not allow for him to escape with another backhanded burst of speed. However, while Time was returning to its normal pace for his opponent, Yari was already bending its will to his advantage. Magical celerity flowed throughout his body, connecting every nerve, muscle, and thought so thoroughly that the bandit felt removed from the area around him—his form was free of Time restraint. There would be no catching his movements now.

He remained still as his opponent descended, a facade of vulnerability, whispering, “I'm sorry, brother.”

It wasn't until the last possible moment that Yari finally sprung into action, his every move a literal blur. His head and upper body twisted out of the harmful knife's path, his right arm grasping at his opponent's wrist in an attempt to grapple with his foe. The added weight of his enemy and the force of his assault was too much for the branch Yari was standing on, and in a heartbeat the wood beneath the two thieves snapped. In that very same moment, Yari's free hand aimed to plunge his iron Brotherhood dagger through his target's chest as the two began their short fall into the sand below.

[Duffy]

History had a habit of repeating itself.

Like an ironic thunderbolt to the temple Duffy smiled as he realised what was happening just in time. As Yari's dagger darted Duffy clenched his teeth and quite simply vanished. In their impact, he had been pushed under the thief king's weight and they had begun to fall with Duffy first, back primed to smack into the solid ground below.

As the blue tendrils of light spiralled out and a song rushed through the air that sang of doves, Yari would suddenly find himself falling to the sand quite alone. The bard stepped in a flash onto the jetty that rested at the heart of the silver sea called The Aria, and for a moment, he was allowed to catch his breath.

"Thank you...Arden..." he said his blessings to his friends for allowing the union between them to become a literal transition of power, and closed his eyes to wait. In the calm serenity the injuries and fatigue that had started to set in were nothing but faint memories. In the silence he was refreshed anew, gifted with conscience and foresight to see the end as it loomed.

With a tightness suddenly forming in his chest, Duffy knew the magic that had saved him from the shark daggers was done, and he felt himself pulled upwards into the grey clouds and heavens.

"Kyraah!" He roared, flashing back onto Althanas with a raucous roll of drums and a fanfare of tinny trumpets. He had maintained his momentum and direction, but Yari, free of his baggage was now descending several feet bellow him. With the rush of wind in his hair, rattling his cloth clothes and bandoleer, Duffy flipped about and continued to fall like a comet.

With a quick wrist flick he sent Tooth & Nail spiralling down at Yari's back. Jensen Ambrose's cocky face flashed into view for a brief moment, and like the strange realm the friends had fought in many moons ago, Duffy's view of the world was freed of his idolatry and everything was crystal, everything was bright. Even the sand floor as it rushed up, seconds away from a brittle snap back to reality. He tried to tuck his feet down to roll as he landed.

[Yari Rafanas]

There was irony in the sudden feeling of envy that overwhelmed Yari. Where he was supposed to be the idol and myth in this match, the bandit royalty soon found himself wishing he had his opponent's power. Yari 's impossible speed in his backhanded bursts, though believed by some to be some variation of teleportation, was no match for the actual ability to blink or cut through reality. The impressive magic left both Yari and his iron clan blade wanting, grasping for flesh and cloth that was not there, stabbing violently into the hot rising air.

His eyes watched the approaching sand, seeing the shadow of his enemy was cast from above. He was exposed, his back vulnerable, and quickly realizing his disadvantage. Unable to twist around from the wound in his side, Yari's artificially hastened thoughts developed a quick plan—tuck in his arms, roll forward, and rend reality asunder with another counter attack at his falling foe. If he could execute it all, he could come out victor—prove to Radasanth that his skills in combat were still the stuff of legends.

Armored forearms slammed against the burning sands, the shock of his impact reverberating through his entire form. Yari was so used to landing on his feet that the shock of such a violent fall stunned him, but he did not falter for long. Pick up your feet! His knees bent, toes digging into the earth, armored paws gripping in preparation for a dash. Move, move—move!

Crimson splashed into the grainy battleground, two gnarled fangs from his foe slipping into his shoulder blades and tearing through his chest. Yari's eyes went wide at the site of his blood dripping rapidly from his body, dancing with the sweatdrops dribbling from his brow. He held his breath as his control over Time was ripped from his form, no longer moving with him, but against him, dragging his heart and soul away.

There was no honor in this.

Limbs buckled under the added weight and wounds, Yari's face falling into the scalding sand. He cried out, spitting dust and iron from his lips, cursing his nameless foe and swearing to the Ai'Brone. His pride struggled to keep him alive, while the rest of his mind wrestled with his body to just let go, welcome another of the many deaths he would experience. Slowly, logic won over the anger, and the King of Thieves felt his soul slipping out from his body and crawling into somewhere between Reality and Serenity.

[Duffy]

Events unravelled too quickly for Duffy to take them in at face value. One minute he was hot on the heels of Yari, the next, he was crashing into the sandy arena floor and rolling forwards like a many armed-monstrosity he could barely control. He came to a heavy end stop quite flat on his back with his arms tensed and curled upright, his breath streaming heavily through his nostrils like a galloping horse.

For a few lingering moments he tried to disseminate the stream of images he had just witnessed. His gambit drawing on Blank's power had paid off, had it not? The daggers had surely nicked into the thief's shoulders, taking his life as he hit the dirt heavier than he had done. He turned his head with a flop to the right and rested his eyes on Yari's stirring form. For a few seconds the thought of continuance lingered, but then it died with his opponent and the oozing of blood from both participants ran their fates together forever.

"I guess dreams are made to die, or be taken from us," he said wearily as he pushed himself slowly upright. He sat for a moment and took in the beating sunlight and the strange communion of their circumstance. The wager had been honest and the fight for the most part was just and right...but somehow, even though the old adage of no honour amongst thieves seemed to apply, he did not feel...victorious. "God dammit!" He kicked up with a little sudden pounce of aggression, and limped with a gait in his right shoulder to Yari's side.

"I did not want it to end like this..." he felt empty, hallow, unsatisfied. He had waited over a decade for the right moment to meet the legend that lay before his feet, but he had wanted glory, triumph, rendering bliss. Instead, he had done the very thing he had tried so hard not to - be like him. A man had to fight to escape his past, and despite all of his personal triumphs in defeating Lucian and forming new alliances of honour in the slums of Scara Brae, he had become more like Yari Rafinas then he ever dare admit.

"I have a feeling we shall cross paths again, my friend," he crossed his fingers over his chest in a star shape, a ritualistic blessing of the slum Thayne Tantalus and turned his back to his challenge. With a slow walk from the arena, drenched in sweat, sorrow and guilt, Duffy Bracken returned to the underworld from whence he came, and into such a world Yari would no doubt pursue.

There may be no honour among thieves, but their was always vengeance.

[Breaker]

Music: Les Misérables Original Broadway Recording
Mood: Groggy

I will be giving this thread light commentary, as I don't feel the quantity of writing or effort put in demands anything more. If either of you would like further clarification or assistance, feel free to contact me.

I guess we'll go with Yari in red and Duffy in blue.

Story ~ 6.5 ~ 7
Yari: Your story telling was decent and consistent, but didn't have much to make it special. If you had committed a bit more to bringing out Yari's past, specifically a few more details about Gild, I'd probably have score you higher here.

Duffy: You made a very clear, almost painfully evident effort to include much of your character's backstory. Your score reflects this, but isn't any higher for two reasons. Firstly, simply having your character soliloquize their entire history in the middle of a battle is not an obtuse way of giving backstory. Secondly, in spite of all the time spent focussing on his past I really didn't learn much about Duffy.

Continuity ~ 6 ~ 5
Yari did much better with regards to tying this story to his character's life. Reading this, Duffy didn't seem to actually have a life outside of this story, outside of this battle. If not for the constant references to his past, Duffy's score in this area would have been much lower. Yari, on the other hand, I liked what you had going on but felt you didn't really finish what you started owing to the sudden completion of the battle.

Setting ~ 6 ~ 5.5
I didn't notice any effort from either of you to make this arena amazing, or memorable, or even easy to envision for that matter. Yari's use of what was available boosted his score here though. I gave Duffy an extra half point for effort, but I had so many issues with most of his setting interaction that I was tempted to take a point off instead.

Creativity ~ 7 ~ 6
Yari, you write magical attacks very well. I'm guessing it comes from many years of writing battles on Althanas. If you applied that same creative energy to things like the setting, I believe your landscapes would come to life much better.

Duffy, you have legitimately good moments of solid writing in almost every post. However they are always hidden amongst cliches, unnecessarily wordy writing, and frankly, aggravatingly purple prose. Reading your stories often feels like running an obstacle course. I frequently feel like I am going over and around obstructions just to get to the end

Character ~ 7 ~ 6.5
Yari's persona is never failing, he remained a strong and consistent character which I could identify with on several levels despite the brevity of this story. In order to score higher here, I'd like to see him go through more, and change more, over the course of a story. One of the dangers of building such a strong character is it becomes easy to forget they are subject to constant evolution, just like everyone else.

Duffy came off as annoying and, quite frankly, unrealistic. Quite aside from his actions (which I'll touch on next) his execution seemed haphazard except for the prevailing fact that he was behaving like a child the whole time. I understood that after the first two posts, and would have liked to see more as the battle wore on.

Interaction ~ 7 ~ 4
Like I said, great use of Yari's magics, and what little the meagre arena provided. Most of Yari's actions become a seamless moving picture in my mind, which is what you want. in order to hit the top numbers in this category you'll need to go a little more above and beyond the call of duty.

Duffy - I know I've given you this same note before, at least once. None of your character's actions read as "real" or even plausible. Duffy spent most of this battle avoiding all damage. Now, that would be fine if his evasion was a work of literary art. But most of the time I had trouble following exactly how he dodged the attacks, which makes it seem a little bit like powergaming. When Duffy did at last take damage, it seemed to have no toll on him. Mentioning that his chest is bruised means nothing when you follow it up by him vaulting branch to branch to the top of a tree, then somehow swooping in on Yari for a perfect flying sword strike. Even if Duffy has crazy explosive power and endurance, that really should have winded him. The fact that he needed to "catch his breath" at the end of all this only served to remind me how ludicrous it was.

The best advice I can give is to focus more on making your battles seem real than making them seem epic. When you can hold a reader's suspended disbelief, anything your character does will seem epic. When you try to write their every action like a hero from a bad anime flick though, it just alienates the reader and makes me, well, want to stop reading. Also, if your character really is capable of performing feats that would put most chimpanzees to shame, you should find a way of making that clear to the reader before pulling it out in the climax of a battle But to reiterate, even a champion chimp would have been panting after that climb.

Strategy ~ 5.5 ~ 4
I didn't notice anything special from either of you in this area. The action was incredibly shortlived and as I mentioned, unrealistic for the most part. Except for the impressive magical attacks, which I already rewarded Yari for, nothing about this seemed special, nothing about the fighting seemed especially strategic or unique. Next time I would advise setting yourselves up in a more interesting, versatile setting and pacing the battle so you can find some key strategic points.

Clarity ~ 8 ~ 5
Yari's posts were consistently easy to understand, Duffy's were consistently the opposite. To elaborate a little, Duffy, many of your sentences seem to include at least as many unnecessary words as pivotal ones.

Mechanics ~ 8 ~ 7
I didn't notice much beyond typos from either of you, but Duffy... if you're going to finish a battle with a single dramatic line and bold text, make sure you get the grammar right. If this battle were close, that last line would have lost it for you.

Wildcard ~ 7 ~ 5
Duffy, I didn't actually dock any points for powergaming or bunnying here, but most of your posts seemed to involve both. If you have permission to bunny your opponent and do so, you need to notify the mod at the earliest possible time. Big things to work on for you are editing (getting rid of some of those unnecessary words), and describing your characters' abilities.

Total ~ 68/100 ~ 55/100

Yari Rafanas gains 1200 EXP
Duffy Bracken gains 100 EXP

(300 EXP from Duffy given to Yari due to EXP Wagers. Gold stolen by the monks cuz y'all are a bunch of thieves.)

[Breaker]

Rewards added.