Road to Nowhere (Open)

[Lillith]

Road to Nowhere (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8y871wxe768)


2942

At the heart of northern Akashima, there stands a bridge. Beneath its arc, a waterfall falls, embodying time’s advance and life’s journey with crystalline flow. The bridge itself is nothing more than a stone slither, carved into the cliffs in ages past. Few people walk along it. Few people know of it. Everybody fears it.

“Are you sure this is appropriate, Lillith?” Arden asked. His voice wavered with indecision.

The assassin nodded. She was uncaring for his concern. He was too stringent, too ensconced in the old ways, and too traditional to understand revolution (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?23988-Flower-Drum-Song-(Closed)&highlight=in+her+web+she%27s+caught). The time for the people of Akashima to adapt had arrived.

“Of course it is, Arden. Where better in the world to prepare ourselves for our final trial?” She turned about. Whenever she faced her brother, she felt strong. Her muscles swelled with power, strength, and grace. Her eyes sparkled in the soft sunlight that rolled down the mountainside.

The swordsman nodded. His red hair fell over his eyes, and his hand instinctively moved to the hilt of his blade. He looked over Lillith’s shoulder to the gate on the far side of the bridge. Soon enough, the doors to their opponent’s antechamber would open. There would be a brief pause, a realisation, and then a dual charge across the expanse.

“Do you think they mimicked the properties of the bridge?” he enquired. He was eager to move on, to escape the subject of heir coming difficulties, and enjoy their diversion from recent endeavours.

Lillith withdrew a tanto from her belt. Its silver blade stood in stark contrast to the black cloth of her obi. She dropped the sheath to the ground, and it rang a hollow echo down into the mists. She was not going to need it.

“I asked the monks to replicate the Heaven’s Gate. I can only assume that they did so with their usual,” she curled her lips into a mocking smile, “vigour.”

The Citadel’s fame came from the other worlds that manifested in its domes. Though illusory, they were as tangible to the combatants as the sun and moon in the sky. Here, only death was not real. Here, only life purveyed.

“We must be weary of that, then,” he warned. He unsheathed his blade. The sound of the metal against the rim of his scabbard echoed down the plateau wall after the sheath.

When they walked through the gate, they would hear nothing. In that moment, they would see fleeting glimpses of their future actions. Each possible strike, each riposte, and each parry would split reality. At that moment, past and future selves could manifest and enter the fray alongside present participants. If fate judged the entrants worthy, then they would witness none of the meddling whims of the Elder Kami, and fight alone.

“I’m always weary,” she snapped. She turned to glare at him with zeal.

Arden laughed through a non-chalant smile. “I’m all too aware. I don’t think your caution is unwise.” He pointed to the far side of the bridge. A sliver of light formed into a double doorway, and with a flourish of magical power, the doors creaked open.

“What is it?” Lillith enquired. She span on her heels. Her shrewd eyes met with the change, and she broke into a cruel smile. “Ah, it is time.” She hesitated. "Do you want to fight first?"

Arden shook his head. He felt something menacing loom on the other side of the doorway.

"This one is all yours, sister," he said wearily. He took a step back, dropped his blade’s tip to the rough ground, and stared ahead with a burning gaze.

On the bridge that leads to the heavens, Akashima’s last hope waited for her foe. Dead leaves danced down from the trees on the cliffs overhead, but averted their path from the narrow walkway. The red paint on the ageing gates was cracked and flaking, and the tattered talismans plastered to its supports groaned with sorrow and messages of madness. This was where the mourning mothers and fearing fathers of Akashima came to pray for their dead.

Lillith muttered a silent mantra, hoping that come sun down, her name would not be in kanji on a similar piece of silk cloth.

In the shadows, the Elder Kami watched. In the light, the Elder Kami laughed.

[Otto]

Otto approved for bunnying

The gates swung slowly out. Silvery light flickered briefly within the recess behind, silhouetting a tall, lanky figure. Then the luminance died off, and the challenger ambled out in to the sun.

He wore a rather crude cuir bouilli (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?25458-The-Fertile-Earth-%28solo%29&p=208684&viewfull=1#post208684) vest, replete with battered iron gauntlets, greaves and thick boots. A spike-backed sallet nestled in the crook of one long arm, while the other clutched a stout wooden roundshield. From his back rose the spire of a simple spear, and at his waist, a sturdy war hammer. A thick, black beard was also evident - despite the bevor which obstructed the lower half of his face - the colour of which matched the stiff locks atop his head. From a distance, he might have passed for a rather ugly human, save for the pronounced grey-blue pallour of his skin.

The fellow raised his head and sniffed the air with his abnormally large, wide nose, before spotting the other two figures standing opposite the precipice. He donned the helmet, opting to leave the visor up, and raised a hand in greeting as he moved towards the foot of what could, with some charity, be called a bridge. Its peculiar design quickly drew his attention, as did the vista - specifically, the not inconsequentially vertical distance between him, where he stood, and it, at the bottom of the cliffs. His linen garments rippled against his frame in the persistent wind, flapping stiffly to and fro.

Otto raised his eyes up warily to the narrow stone arch which spanned the chasm, and then back upon the distant pair. His right arm clutched the spear shaft at his back, lifting it up and out of the simple iron clips which held it, before planting its base against the ground. He halted there at the cliff's edge, and breathed deep.

"Hail!", he yelled, forcing the word to fly across the gap. The whistling wind stripped it of substance, allowing but a ghost of a shout to reach the other side.

[Lillith]

Lillith narrowed her gaze at the figure in the distance. She folded her arms across her chest, tapped her foot on the well-worn rock, and furrowed her brow. Instead of excitement, fear, curiosity, she found herself bewildered. As well travelled as she was, she had never seen anything like it before.

“Arden…,” she whispered. “What is that?”

The swordsman frowned, and then broke into a stifled laugh. He found it hard not to snigger at his sister’s ignorance.

“That’s what they call an ‘orc’,” he said sarcastically. He stepped away from her, as though handing her the centre of attention. “He’s more suited to your level of skill. He’s all yours.”

Lillith pouted. The wind stole away her cursing as she spat vitriol at her brother in Akashiman.

“I’m sure you’d enjoy doing that to me, too,” he sighed.

She would get him back for his comment later. For now, though, there were more pressing matters at hand. They each revolved around the ‘orc’s sheer size. She watched him for a while longer, before she waved him across the bridge with a welcoming hand. She broke into a stride and felt the rising warmth from the maelstrom far below invigorate her muscles. The strength of her ancestors flowed through her, even if only fleetingly.

The Elder Kami judged her worthy.

She would not face another version of herself today.

“Come on,” she clucked. "Let’s give him a warm…greeting.” She chose her words carefully, reluctant judge the orc on appearance alone. She knew better than to let first impression get the better of her.

The duo strode to the top of the bridge side by side and smiles on their faces. Her hair came loose of its bonds, and the red headed swordsman took his helmet off. He tucked it under his arm, and she shook her mane free. The wind continued to roll over the bridge, giving life to their motion, and atmosphere to the heartland of Akashima. What little sun reached them glimmered over armour plate and silk.

“Hello there!” Lillith cried. She waved coyly, and dropped her hands to her sides in a non-threatening manner. They came to a cautious stop two hundred feet from the orc. “My name’s Lillith.” She bowed in the traditional manner, and then gestured to Arden. “This is my brother.”

“I’m just here for moral support.” He curled his lips into a fanged smile, licked them clean of darkened blood, and then broke away from the diminutive woman. He gave the orc a wide birth, nodded gruffly as he passed, and then looked back over his shoulder with a longing glance.

“It’ll be just us,” Lillith said. She waved to Arden as he continued out of the chamber. The heavy doors closed with a calamitous crash. “What’s your name?” she enquired.

She stood with her legs parsed, eyes glistening, and body trembling with anticipation. She tried to examine his body for signs of weakness, but saw only strength, and plenty of it. She swallowed the lump in her throat.

[Otto]

Otto gave the abyss another wary glance, and stepped out on to the bridge. He moved at a smart pace until he had closed the gap to a mere two score of feet, and halted in the same, casual position as before. "Name's Otto", he replied, in a more gentle tone. "Pleased to meet you", he added, and inclined his head towards the woman.

Closer inspection revealed her arsenal to be - as far as Otto could tell - a pair of short blades, in the Akashiman style. They were were probably tantō; not quite long enough to be wakizashi, the daggers still had an edge to be feared, but were also highly effecting as stabbing weapons. He suddenly wished he still had his rusty old hauberk, however worn and tired it may have been. There was no way a bit of stiff leather would hold up against the renowned cutting edge of such weapons. However, that brittleness which gave the blades their greatest strength could also prove their downfall.

At least to start with, though, he would do well to keep this Lillith at a distance. Unless she was stronger than she looked, it was unlikely that she could cut through the shaft of his spear without some difficulty.

The wind picked up, and slammed against Otto's frame. It brought with it the cloying smell of rain, accented by wet earth and smooth maple. Below the two figures, distant trees rippled in the squall, much like waves on a lake. Otto's poor track record with heights flashed uncomfortably before his eyes. He grimaced, and looked back up to Lillith. She seemed anxious, but from what, he could not tell just yet. It might be fear, or perhaps it might be simple, bloodthirsty excitement. Then again - since when had the two been mutually exclusive?

The orc rolled his shoulders and arched his spine backwards. "Any requests?", Otto grunted, hand clenched firmly around the spear. Its base grated roughly against the grey stone.

[Lillith]

Lillith said the first thing that sprang to mind.

“Don’t you dare to disappoint me.”

Embracing his eagerness to bear arms, the assassin unsheathed the Spider (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?24240-The-Oni-s-Souls) from its pride of place on her right hip. She accompanied it with the Crab, though the latter blade did not shine or possess the power of its twin. She bowed just enough to appease her ancestors, and her sense of honour and etitquite, and then stood, quite still, in line with the spear’s tip.

“This place is called, in common, The Bridge to Nowhere,” she explained. She gestured behind her at the tall, pine cropped cliff face. The water that ran down its surface continued to shimmer with rainbow luminescence. “It casts out the unworthy from Heaven.”

She knew little of her opponent’s intellect, but she was certain he could surmise that to fall from the bridge, into the dark mists below, would prove fatal. It would not just crush his bones, but his soul as well.

“Akashiman, I take it?” Otto asked. His voice was deep, but somehow, Lillith did not find it threatening. If anything, she revered his stoic, gruff visage. He looked like he had earned his skill in battle.

Lillith nodded. “I think it is a fitting backdrop for a simple, carnal, and quicksilver test of skill.” She advanced a step, and then stopped. She watched the orc’s musculature, beneath his ample defences, to try and guise how quick he was. She read nothing into his abilities, and curled her lip into a wry and furtive expression.

A plan formed in her mind to do away with Otto Bastum without having to discover just how strong he was.

“If you’ve no requests, by all means…” She paused, took a deep breath, and held her tanto in a reverse grip. Her arms arced like a swan’s proud wings. “Let’s begin.”

[Otto]

Lillith's request had fixed a grin upon the orc's wide lips. "As you wish", Otto said good-humouredly, and returned her bow with one of his own. He swung back up with haste, pointed his closed eyes towards the sky, and took another long, deep breath. His smile widened. Two lupine eyes shot open, and Otto's voice bellowed out raw into the wind.

"Udautas vras-u-bat-lat!"

The orc wrapped the spear firmly into the crook of his arm, and swept it back and forth above the ground before him, just low enough to send glimmering droplets cascading off the edge of the precarious little precipice, but without scraping against the rock. The flecks were almost instantly lost amidst the iridescent mist which wafted dreamily down past dripping, sharply-scented conifers and softly swaying maples. Otto snapped the spear around to Lillith, hefted the shield a little higher, dropped his stance wide and low, and... walked.

Despite the ferocity Arden had promised possessed of the orc, and despite his bout of theatrics, Otto adopted a cautious - if determined - approach straight along the bridge towards the woman. His heavy boots slapped down wetly on the mossy stone, with the spear held straight and firm at Lillith in rear hand, and shield clutched ready at the fore. Something of the smile remained upon his face, visible past the open visor, though it had been largely replaced by an expression of focus. His wolfish, yellow eyes remained locked on to hers.

Two boots clomped steadily across the mist-slick Bridge to Nowhere.



Udautas vrasubatlat: "today I will kill you". A traditional greeting between orcish warriors is ashdautas vrasubatlat ("someday I will kill you"), for which it is customary to reply, nar udautas ("not today").

[Lillith]

Lillith tensed every muscle in her body, and tried to make up her mind about how to continue. Her plan was good, in theory, but executing it another thing entirely. The orc’s stance was strong, his shield a bulwark, and his reach long. She would risk everything if she tried too hard to surmount it, and the width of the bridge prevented her from making a feint attack to circumvent it.

“<May your ancestors forget your name,>” she said softly. Her insult, slick Akashiman rhetoric, was not as offensive or guttural as his orcish charm, but it served its purpose. Neither of them would understand one another, so both could have rambled on nonsensically and been none the wiser.

Lillith continued to show her ignorance by mistaking Otto’s welcome as a barbed insult.

“Whoever told you the best offence is defence was sorely mistaken,” she spat. She did not wait for his reply. With lightning reflexes, she pushed down and forwards simultaneously. Her geta strained against the stone, their soft wooden slats cracking beneath her slender frame. Her kimono flapped in the breeze, olive green tans dancing with jade green luminescence.

“Doubtful,” Otto grunted.

His spear bolted ahead, his shield arm back, and his body lunged forwards. Like a coiled snake, the shaft of wood pushed the fatal tip into the space Lillith’s heart had been. She was too quick for him. She ducked, rolled, and rose, and lashed out with the Spider like a feral cat.

“Do you see?” the assassin hissed. She looked expectantly at her blade. Instead of it embedding in his side, in between the folds and plates of his stoic armour, it remained balanced in her grip. It had cut nothing but air.

“See what?” the orc replied.

He brought his shield’s edge down onto her shoulder, crushing her offence and resolve, with a simple yet effective blow.

“Urgh!” Lillith’s cry danced out into the mists. She felt her knee drive into the bridge, her head droop, and pain shot down her arm. If she had not adapted and shifted her weight accordingly, she was certain his attack would have shattered her collarbone.

“I thought you didn’t want me to disappoint you?”

Lillith snarled. Before a follow-up strike could finish her there and then, she leant back, let her weight go underneath her, and rolled out of harm’s way. Sure enough, the spear’s buttress end slammed into dead space, and she clashed her tanto outwards and remained in a low stance. She was fifteen feet or so away from Otto when she came to.

“If you keep talking, you’ll be well on your way.” Her cold, calculating eyes peered up at the dominating fighter. She saw military training in the precise way he reacted to every action. She could see that he would be difficult to best, not because of his strength, which had nearly hewn her in two, but because he was not a risk taker. A careful man was a patient man.

She had to anger him.

She had to cloud his judgement.

Lillith Kazumi was anything but patient. Otto returned to his stance, shield arm steady, spear set with its tip levelled at her injured shoulder.

[Otto]

The grin surged back across Otto's lips. He resumed the same slow, wary approach as before, and the distance between the orc and Lillith began to diminish. Patience was something he himself had had to learn over the years, but Otto still yearned to drop all caution and charge in. He felt like a pressed spring, ready to fling forwards but for the trembling iron hold of his resolve. His heart had begun to thunder in its cage, and it filled him with the light-headed mix between anxiety and excitement which bloomed in the midst of combat.

"Sorry, I thought you wanted a challenge", Otto said, casually. "Perhaps we could summon a swing set and ice cream?"

Otto tried to remain entirely flippant in spite of the thrill coursing through him from tip to toe. His spear could target hearts easily enough, but he had recently found that aiming words at someone's pride could also prove useful. As one who had found himself on the receiving end of such, with morning after morning of sustained thrashings in the garrison's daily drills, the effectiveness of it had become too obvious to ignore. He had to level the field, since fighting without his hauberk continued to yield the odd surprise, even if he was improving with the help of Fadime

The gap between them closed to a mere ten feet. Though Lillith was injured, Otto was not done with the current strategy; he had time enough to wear her down some more, to tire her out. And if she managed to develop a counter-strategy, well, then he supposed that she would find out just how good he was with a hammer - and he, how good she was with those blades.

[Lillith]

Lillith replaced her mental image of a weak and feeble beast with one worthy of Otto’s statute. In a short time, he had undone her resolve, left her weak, and shattered her confidence.

“You’re quite incorrigible,” she spat. She abandoned Akashiman, in favour of Tradespeak’s more brunt intonation. It was the perfect language for war.

Rising on her heels, Lillith observed Otto’s defensive stance for several awkward, languishing, and uncomfortable moments. He remained statuesque, determined to make her approach, likely with similar consequences, for a second time. She was by no means a master swordsman, especially compared to her shinobi sisters, but she was to her merit, no fool.

“I would quote some snivelling oath about water against stone being more harmful than a hammer on steel, but I think the analogy would be lost on you.” Her tone did not change. She was blind by her calculating mind to notice the irony in quoting smithing scripture to…well, a smith.

“Ice cream, swing sets, and lollipops,” Otto said. There was no need for the orc to growl, spit, or hiss. The inference alone was enough.

With a burst of speed, she made light work of the ten feet between them. She managed, by luck perhaps, more so than skill, to bend at the hip and slip under the impaling tip of the spear.

“<The smallest spider fells the mightiest ox,>” she roared in response.

Her weight pushed into Otto as she raised, her shoulder a makeshift ram, despite the pain his shield had inflicted upon it. As she collided with him, an irresistible force crashing against an immovable object, she lunged with the Spider. Though the reprise for her foolish endeavour would likely spell death for the assassin, if the tip of the tainted blade touched flesh, then Otto would know.

He would know pain.

He would know suffering.

He would know every cliché of a poisoned dagger aimed for a poisoned heart.

[Otto]

Otto knew he had no chance to block the attack; it was simply a matter of damage control. He skipped back and sideways, so fast that he almost lost his footing on the slippery, moss-patched stone. The spear was useless at this point, and Otto let it fall from his grip. The shield swung in - but, as before, he was too slow. Lillith's vicious little knife didn't find his heart, but Otto was all too aware of the blade as it slipped between his ribs just below his shoulder. Leather, linen and flesh parted like flimsy old curtains, to let in a crimson sun. Otto screamed.

He retained enough presence of mind to see Lillith's posture shift, and foresaw an impending follow-up with the other blade. War-honed instinct kicked in, those which marked the point where combat began to devolve into a messy, desperate struggle.

His shield-arm latched on around the Spider's hilt, thick, gauntleted fingers clamping down hard upon Lillith's. The Crab flicked out, but managed only to leave a shallow gash along the orc's other side as he stepped in close, his free arm encircling Lillith and pinning her limb to her side. They shared the awkward embrace for perhaps a second, during which Lillith - caught momentarily off guard - looked up into Otto's wide, pain-crazed eyes.

Through a rictus of agony, his face still managed to twist into some semblance of a smile. "Good!", he barked, and slammed his helmeted head against her brow.

It didn't have to be graceful, or pretty. It just had to work.

He pushed a dazed Lillith Kazumi away, crying out once more as Jurugumo came free. Otto stumbled back through the coiling mist, red blooms burgeoning through the fabric on his chest. He raised a hand to the gash, and it came away thick with blood. Each breath hurt remarkably, and he would soon find out whether the blade had managed to pierce a lung. Otto grimaced at the thought; drowning in one's own blood was never fun.

He grimaced some more. The wound really stung.

"Very good", Otto repeated, lowering a trembling hand towards the hammer at his belt. "Much... better...?"

Confusion crossed his paling face, then denial, and then panic. He sagged, and began to retch uncontrollably into his bevor. The metal cup trapped the vile protrusions right below his nose, and his sinuses soon filled with the nauseating stench of vomit in a cruel, if admirably effective, sort of feedback. Otto dropped to one knee, bits of bile and digestive fluid soaking into his beard and dribbling slowly out the bottom of his bevor.

"Gods", he managed to moan, "not again (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?25229-Round-2-Lute-and-Hammer-Vs-League-of-Nightmares&p=206229&viewfull=1#post206229)."



Due to the short duration of this post, Lillith may consider Otto to remain afflicted by the Jurugumo's poison in her reply.

[Lillith]

On two occasions in her life, a comet had struck Lillith. The first had been in Akashima, atop the Jagged Peaks. A Kami named Hikori had fallen to Althanas in a fit of rage, and only the Kazumi spirit warders had stayed the spirit’s wrath. The second was when Otto counter attacked. She had expected a thrust with the spear. She had expected a lunge with a boulder like fist. She never expected the sky to fall behind his punch, and tumultuously knock her for six.

At least the latter ‘comet’ had only damaged her, and not levelled a township.

She rubbed her forehead, which bruised, bled, and ached. Her eyes took their time to refocus, and she was open to a deathblow all the while.

“Why haven’t you…?” she groaned.

She looked groggily at Otto. It dawned on her that she had not been as unsuccessful as she assumed.

“Oh…,” she said.

She looked at the tip of the Spider. The tanto had pierced her opponent’s guard, and loosed its reverent spirit into his very soul. For a short while, at least, the blade would be light to wield, holy to touch, and untarnished by the evil that was contained within. It would be a short-lived reprieve for the assassin, whose many sentences included bearing such a hideous weapon until the end of time.

“I…,” she grumbled. Her vision returned. She glanced at the bridge’s edge, and then to Otto.

This was the only opportunity she would get.

No matter how Lillith looked at the orc, she felt only pity. In the seconds up until she struck, she had intent to strike to kill. There was no pity in her bones. There was no doubt in her mind. As the poison of her ancient enemy coursed through Otto’s veins, a quicksilver fire in midnight hue, she retreated. Her feet scuffed the stone. Her forehead beaded with sweat. Her heart beat a thousand times a second.

“What have I done…?” she asked, though as she knew full well, the rhetoric was self-gratifying.

“Not a third time…,” Otto grunted, through carrot chunks and offal fritters.

The Bridge to Nowhere remained unbothered by the melee unfolding on its length. The pine trees on the rocky outcrops overhead swayed in the breeze. The breeze swiftly turned into a light gale, and then into a roaring bedlam. Lillith’s hair whipped away behind her, and the folds of her cloth rippled. She was resplendent in nature’s wrath, but her frown did away with the beauty she otherwise held.

“You have to jump!” she roared over the din.

She sheathed her blade.

“Yeah, pull the other one!”

She rolled her eyes at the crude response.

“No…I mean it. The poison will wear off in time, but you have to cleanse your soul before it clings to you…” The monks of the Ai’bron could not heal some things.

She took a deep breath of the pine-scented vapours, and found herself back in Tokyun, the village of her birth. There, she pictured the portal into the underworld shrine of the Spider Oni (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?22018-In-Her-Web-She-s-Caught-(Solo)&highlight=in+her+web+she%27s+caught). There, she pictured the trio that had fought with the ancient creature. There, she saw herself dragged into the dark by spidery limbs and feral intentions. She shivered.

“What lies below us will destroy a mortal soul with ease. But the Jurugumo’s essence will take the brunt of that.”

Lillith dropped to her knees and looked skyward. The clouds were thick, fluffy, and reamed with arcs of halcyon. Gold and crimson streaks marked out the formations, and the passing of the afternoon into early evening danced in the heavens in burning orange. Cranes and herons fluttered back and forth overhead, drifting out into the seascape to the east. From their high nests atop the cliffs, they had a grand vantage point over the illusory world. Lillith sighed.

“Either you jump, or I jump,” she said, flatly, and without a hint of hesitation.

Over the years, Lillith had done many foolish things. Coming to the Citadel to try to eviscerate the demons that dwelt within was the most foolish of all.

Her hair, lank and damp, clung to her forehead. Her eyes glistened with strain. Her forehead, still reddened, loosed a line of blood down her face that split her pleasant features in two. Her shoulders, grazed and sunken from the shield drop, had no life in them to hold her arms up in defence. She slouched her spine, drooped her gaze, and lifeless, she waited.

[Otto]

"She speaks truth."

The voice rang like a bell behind Lillith. She spun around in a flash, but there was nothing behind her on the bridge, save grey rock and wind-blown spray.

"Something crawls through your Blood..."

This time, it seemed to come from behind the orc. Lillith just saw, perhaps, a faint, humanoid silhouette behind his kneeling frame. It flickered and streamed away almost instantly in the blossoming storm, lost against the shivering shadows of climbing pines and distant clouds.

"Ang gijack-ishi", Otto growled, feebly.

"Not enough", mocked the voice. It seemed unaffected by the shrieking wind.

"Gah", Otto grunted, heaving unsteadily to his feet. "I should have known you'd enjoy this." Lillith did not quite catch the words, as her opponent seemed to be speaking to himself. As he continued to rise, his posture grew a little more sure, reclaiming some of its former imposure. "I dislike your terms", he said in a much stronger voice, this time to the woman.

"They are final", stated Lillith.

"No. This is final." The large roundshield clattered to the ground, followed by the heavy chink of the heavy iron hammer. "Either I fall, or we both fall." He threw away his helm, and unclasped the bevor. The former flew off into the abyss, and the other dropped to Otto's feet with a clang and a squelch.

"Nar mat kordh-ishi!", he sung. "Udautas lat vrasubat!" One ironclad finger, still trembling slightly, came up and pointed at the woman. "I am not the only warrior here!"

He spread his arms wide, pointed his face towards the sky, and breathed deep. Blood, pine, vomit, maple and sweat filled his nose in a clashing olfactory cacophony, lending to his lingering giddiness. He lowered his head and set his eyes back upon Lillith, and, with arms still out-flung, began a steady, accelerating charge. The bridge's stones quaked beneath the Akashiman's feet with each of the orc's pounding steps.



Nar mat kordh-ishi: 'do not die in bed'. Udautas lat vrasubat: 'today you will kill me'. Otto's education in orcish is somewhat incomplete, and cultural proverbs are what stick best in his mind. Besides, they were made to be shouted on the battlefield.

[Lillith]

All the pieces of her hastily wrought plan came together. She curled her lips into a cruel, wicked, and disingenuous smile.

“Shout all you like…,” she muttered to herself, picking out every strain, every twitch, and every tightened muscle on the orc’s behemoth frame. She spoke up. “I will do no such thing!”

With a sudden, calculated burst of energy, Lillith overcame her frailty. She forgave herself, for just long enough to count, over her foolishness. Though Otto’s shield blow still echoed in her bones, she did not need her arm to stand. She needed her speed, the one weapon she had that Otto could not match, nor account for.

“If you don’t accept this mercy, you’ll be wounded far beyond the Citadel’s gates!” Her Akashiman accent faded into a Scarabrian drawl. It was rumbustious, haughty, and full of spirit.

She twisted her foot so that it turned away from Otto, and leant to the right. Decades of training in the Comb Mountains came to the fore, as she channelled the spirit of the shinobi she had been in a past life. She pictured snow-topped peaks; pine roils, and sheltered caverns thick with wood smoke. Each of the stances of the tantojutsu still burnt brightly in her mind.

She abandoned them all bar one.

“Today, Otto Bastum, you kill only yourself.”

Remembering the final words her mentor, Attar Janelle had said to her, Lillith waited until the final moment. If she timed it incorrectly, she would feel the full brunt of the orc’s momentum. She did not wish to discover what would happen if that monstrosity, with that speed, collided into her.

“<Poor is the pupil who does not surpass his sensei.>”

Lillith collapsed into a sideways roll.

The image of a red haired swordsman, covered in blood, flashed before her eyes. The pine scent in the air, and the sound of roaring, tumbling, and falling water overwhelmed her senses. All her heart heaved. All her intentions faltered. Fate was in control now, and wherever or not she moved quickly enough was outweighed by the here, now, and soon to come.

When they finished in the arena, Lillith’s path would trail endlessly and eternally onwards into nothingness. It would be a journey for the aeons.

The journey for Otto Bastum, on the other hand, would be considerably shorter.

[Otto]

He lunged. Kasumi rolled away. Otto twisted in midair, and whipped an arm out towards the woman. Thick fingers found a wrist, and closed around it with grim resolve.

As he flew on, he saw Lillith's eyes widen. But she did not surrender to panic.

Her roll brought her around to her feet again, and she jumped, maintaining the momentum of the previous maneuver. Her whole body spun around in the air, and Otto felt the weight of it force her hand to twist in his blood-slick grip. Her contorted digits, dwarfed against his own, spiraled and slipped away.

The last he saw of Lillith was her back as she landed in a kneeling crouch, before the lip of the bridge flew up towards the sky.

"Good!", he barked one last time, and plummeted into the void.

Anvil's ringing laughter followed him all the way down.



* * *


When Otto opened his eyes, he knew he was far from the simple pallets of the Citadel's infirmaries. A long, curving dirt road cut a swathe through a forest of tall, thick-crowned oak and hazel. Down here, the sun had yet dispel the dreary, misty greyness, but he could see it light the distant peaks of low mountains in brilliant pink. The air was still, with fog creeping in all around.

Someone brushed past Otto - a soldier, wearing the red. The orc could see a crossbow clutched in one hand, and a notched, rusty old dirk in the other. The man walked forwards towards another shape lying spreadeagled on the dirt track before them. Another man, that one - young, and wheezing desperately. Several black bolts protruded from his back and lower skull, turning the back of his linen shirt a shade to match the tabards of the soldiers around him.

The rough-faced soldier stepped in with his blade at the ready - and walked into Otto's extended arm. He looked at the orc, then at the hammer clutched in the long, mailed arm, and took a step back.

There were cleaner ways to kill a man.

Otto didn't question why he had his weapons back, or even the mail hauberk. Everything here was as it had been. Would be as it had been. He knelt down, angled the dying man's face towards the sun-kissed mountains, and listened to the laboured, gurgling breaths. Then he swung the hammer up - and with a sure, swift strike, brought it back down. There was a meaty crack, followed by silence.

"Come on", said the other fellow, behind him. "Irinham awaits."

The warrior host surged on down the grey path. Otto remembered what lay down it, but now, it felt like there was much more in store for him that way. Something large, and dark, and foreboding, lay in wait. The hairs on his neck pricked up, and he shivered. He felt it behind him, too. He turned around, and was perplexed by what he saw.

The forest closed in, merging together until it formed a twisted portal into the earth. Through it, he could see a large, spherical cavern, well-lit by a melded mess of candles upon a central altar. Just looking at it caused the pain in his side to flare up, but he continued to stare. There were people in there; three humanoid figures, standing and staring back. When he took a step towards it, his wound screamed in protest. Otto stumbled, and turned pale.

"Where are you going, soldier?" A mounted captain trotted up and past him in the fog. "We march east!" the officer added, calling over his shoulder as he disappeared towards the village.

Otto had walked that road one time too many. He would head the other way, today (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?22018-In-Her-Web-She-s-Caught-%28Solo%29).

Each step replayed the memory of the tantō slipping between his ribs, how the skin had tensed just momentarily before it split beneath the blade, how the muscles had twanged and snapped apart, how the razor edge had sawed a groove into his bone. It had hurt much more than a wound from such a keen blade should have, and with every step forward, it pulsed with new strength. Something in that wound recoiled from the unfamiliar cavern before him.

"Ang gijak-ishi", he grunted, through clenched teeth. He could make out the figures waiting for him in the cave, now that he was closer. "Lillith?", he muttered, then gasped as he took another shambling step closer to the woman and her brother.

He did not know the third one, the red-haired woman, but there was no mistaking the other two. He was perhaps twenty feet away from the entrance, when they began to sing. They sung in Akashiman, words Otto did not understand. But the Jurugumo knew. He had never been stabbed with a blade fresh out from the hearth, but he had reflected on it often - and suddenly, he was struck by a pain exactly like he had imagined, only made real. He screamed, and staggered forward, but the pain did not fade from his ribs. It continued to intensify as the gap closed. He fell to his knees, and began to sob with agony. Yet, he crawled on through the dirt, trailing tears, snot and blood. The fire swelled inside him, furious at his defiance, and entered his veins. Soon, his heart was pumping molten iron into his lungs, his gut, his throat and head. He could not scream, nor breath, and as the mind-rending pain flowed into his limbs, nor could he move. He collapsed into the earth, no more than a defeated, shivering, gagging mess.

Through a red fog, Otto felt hands grab him by his arms, and haul him into the light. The taint inside screamed in desperation, but it could do no more. Otto was dragged across the cavern, the song ringing in his ears, towards a circle formed of melted wax and chalk. There seemed to be a fourth figure there, but Otto was moving fast beyond consciousness. Slowly, he felt the fire in his blood recede; it withdrew reluctantly from his limbs, head and chest, back to the wound. There it dug its claws in and stayed, until the song picked up and ripped it out. It flared up in one final, malicious spike of tooth-grating agony, and then it was gone.

The light in the cavern went out. So did the song, leaving Otto exhausted and sweating in the blackness. He wanted to cry some more, just from the memory of it all, but he didn't even have the energy. There was darkness of another sort rising up inside him. It closed around his mind, latched on tight, and dragged him down into the depths of sleep.

[Enigmatic Immortal]

Story:

Lady Oni – 7: Welp, I gotta admit, the start of your story was interesting, the ending solid as all hell, but good sir, your middle dragged. What I am finding with your stories is you have a great idea on how to start, you know in your head how it will End, but tying the threads together with the meat of the middle is the struggling point. My suggestion is plot out in your mind a flexible skeleton of where you would like the story to go, in case it flops on you, and your middle will keep momentum.

Otto – 5: Otto this is my first reading of you, and as a reader I found your story to pick up only at the end. The beginning, the middle, all these things lacked a story about Otto and his reasoning until the very end. That emotion you brought up in Otto towards the end was flattened by the almost empty story of the beginning and the middle. Suggestions would be to simply battle more! You got the skills to do this, just need a chance to stretch those writing muscles.



Setting

Lady Oni- 6: For once sir, you didn’t have the best setting. This is due to the almost throw away approach to setting up the scene and then ditching it. You, much like me, have a tendency to only bring the setting to the fore when it pertains to something you’re about to do instead of making it an interactive element of your writing. You can do this, Duffy, I know you can.



Otto- 7: I give you the edge here because you did make sure to keep the setting in mind when you wrote, and the third post you wrote was what really set you above the bar. Well done. Do not let this drop, refine it further, and make it your golden apple to keep your scores high.



Pacing

Lady Oni- 6: Lady Oni gets the pacing award for keeping the story moving at all times.



Otto- 5: You had a tendency at the beginning and the middle to really just respond to actions happening around you, instead of taking it from Lady Oni’s grip. In a battle, this turtling style of writing can be like a revolver. Sometimes you click the chamber and it works, and sometimes you here the bang. I suggest when you fight against a foe who’s writing is very aggressive you match them, and even if they aren’t, you go aggressive. Reading your reply to what Lady Oni does is very dull reading.



Character

Lady Oni- 6: Lillith had her own frustrations, moments of reflection, and highlights. Sadly, she runs a gambit of emotions faster than the words of a rap artist. Peaceful, calm, serene, nervous, cautious, bold, cunning, angry, frustrated, raging, concerned, screaming to help the enemy. These things can be a bit….confusing. Pick your emotions, and stick to them. If you change them, give me clearer reasons why.



Otto- 5: Otto was very…flat in this battle. Like with story, he never really came to his own until the end. He never hit that stride. Exp isn’t just a way to level, it’s to improve our writing. With past exploits to use as we write.



Communication

Lady Oni- 5: There seemed to be good collaboration, and good use of dialogue, but all in a very been there done that way.



Otto- 5: Same here for you.



Action

Lady Oni- 6: As the leader of the action, points go to Lady Oni.

Otto- 5: Following the leader is not a recommended way to battle as you don’t get much action.



Mechanics

Lady Oni- 5: I…cannot believe the number of errors that came from you. Simple misspellings, forgotten words, and errors that you have beaten over my head relentlessly. Proofreading could have netted you a solid 8. There shall be no tea for you!



Otto- 6: You were less dirty with the misspellings but watch out for them too. You could lose a lot of easy points just simply not reading your posts again and editing them.



Clarity

Lady Oni- 6: To be honest, there wasn’t too many reasons that separated you and Otto, but there is a point you need to be aware of. You shouldn’t throw in British Slang with Japanese Slang/Terminology. It just throws the reader off.



Otto- 6: Mechanics and Clarity go hand in hand, and those few errors you had can distract a reader and break the flow. Just a little more awareness is all you need.



Technique

Lady Oni- 6: I saw you use the same techniques you always use, and no real branching out for you. This isn’t to say it’s not enjoyable, but I think we can push you a bit further. I expect a new technique when I read your next story.

Otto- 6: A very basic set of techniques was blindsided by the stunning word choice. This helped boost and polish your posts. Well done. As you grow more into this character, you’ll be trying more and more techniques to maximize the character’s interactions with the world. This is what I expect to see the next time I read something from you.



Both of you did a unique style of battle that I am glad to have read, and was surprised by how easy it was for me to pick up and jump into. My pallete wetted has inspired me to get a battle of my own going, and you should be proud of yourselves. That being said, hede my wisdom, I give you my advice so that you may learn from it. If you don’t agree with me, ignore that information and see what other judges say about the areas you didn’t like in previous judgments. Compare notes. I’m here whenever you two need me.



Wildcard

Lady Oni- 7

Otto- 5



Lady Oni: 60

Otto: 55

LADY ONI WINS!

1050 xp for Lady Oni, 150 gold. 700 for Otto, 50 gold.

[Mordelain]

Experience and gold added.