Round 2 Newcomer: Kroom Vs Tobias Stalt

[Silence Sei]

Fight starts tonight at 12:01 Central Standard time! Will the merchant emerge the winner or will he wind up Krooming himself?! Begin!

[Tobias Stalt]

When he saw the name of the man he would face, Tobias stared at the document for a long time. The first round of the Magus Cup had ended with a narrow victory, which had allowed the former merchant to cheat death once again. At the seemingly grim news in his hand, Tobias simply sighed.

The sound of crumpled paper echoed through the hallway as dancing flames illuminated an otherwise black chamber. Healers had seen to the wounds afflicting Tobias' flesh, but the stains on his soul were eternal. Jak Roth Rute. He owed that man more than just his life. Jak had taught him of survival in the wilds, and of battle more than meager trickery. Rugged and beastial, Jak had been one of the few Tobias had ever looked up to.

"My, but the gods do laugh," Tobias muttered as he checked about his person to be sure that his belongings were present. The uniform was neat, though clearly not pressed; his wounds from the earlier round were cleaned and healed, which Tobias noted as his hand brushed over the area where Wolf had raked him. The first real sensation of battle pains Tobias had ever felt, those claws had given the youth his first taste of real fear. Fumbling with the hilt of his sword, the Soldier strode toward the door at the far end of the corridor.

'This is it,' he thought, closing his eyes. 'I can finally thank him. Just before he tries to kill me.'

Moonlight leaked through cracks in the door and as it creaked open, Tobias looked into a breathtaking garden. The path laid out before him led beneath a trellis wreathed in ivy and Bellflowers, and gently flowing stream stretched out to the left. Bioluminescent Lotus blossoms floated on the surface of the water, offering further visibility in the night. Only a few torches were lit, giving off an aura of warmth and light as well as casting their long shadows.

As he walked, Tobias watched the garden come to life around him. Night blooming flowers burst open, painting the arena in brilliant purples, blues, reds and whites. The magnificent scent wafting across his senses pulled a smile across Tobias' lips despite the odds against him. Drawing his blade a fraction of the way from its sheath, Tobias stared intently into the mirror polished sheen.

Standing idly beneath the trellis at the center of the garden with an overgrown labyrinth of bushes and flora boxing him in, Tobias waited for Jak. 'There will come a time when I am as strong as you,' he remembered telling Jak. Chuckling, Tobias could only shake his head. "Hopefully, that time is now," he whispered.

The Knight of Tears kept his head bowed in furtive contemplation, secretly watching in the reflection on his blade for any sign of movement. Letting Jak take him off guard would prove disastrous. 'Victory lies in preparation,' he had learned from his instructor in the field of strategy. Tobias would use every advantage he had to level this playing field.

[Kroom]

A slight breeze hissed through the shrubs, and a few yards away from Tobias, in front and to his left, two hooded eyes blinked slowly.

The smith was at his anvil, making arrowheads. They were relatively easy to make, always in demand, and brought decent pocket money. Traveling through the Salvarian border-lands, he had stayed the night in a village, and was doing some work for the town watch when a courier arrived. The man - not much of a man really, more of a boy, perhaps fifteen - imperiously enquired after 'Jak Roth Rute,' waving the parchment scroll like a wand.

"'ere," barked Jak, beckoning the lad with a wave of his hammer, before tapping out another red-hot bit of barbed steel. The boy's airy manner spoke loudly. He unfurled the scroll, cleared his throat, and was about to begin reading, but Jak had already flicked the arrowhead into the trough to quench it. With a flick of his tongs, the smith deftly snatched the scroll away and flattened it on the anvil, using his hammer to hold the far end.

The Soldier, Tobias Stalt, will face the Smith, Jak Roth Rute, in… The rest was irrelevant. Jak blew a long sigh and stretched his back. Tobias, a soldier? That didn't seem right. The boy was a crook, a pickpocket, a runner. Maybe he'd been conscripted… damned luck, all the same. Jak fished a bit of charcoal from his pocket and scrawled his mark on the document, ignoring the boy's squeals, and gave it back to him before fishing another piece of glowing steel from the furnace and setting to work on it.

Tobias Stalt, then. I don't quite know how to feel about this one. He finished the arrowhead and called over the guard captain. He had a long way to go, in more ways than one, and there was no time to lose.

Now, lurking in that shrub with an arrow nocked and half-drawn, Jak breathed another long sigh, and slowly stepped into the dissembling half-light. Tobias would be able to see him without great effort, about ten yards away, though his shape would be unclear. Jak had found that most things had a hard time seeing him in the night, ever since the Tomb.

"Gods below, boy," he said, "it really is you, isn't it."

[Tobias Stalt]

"I expected the business end of an arrow, honestly," Tobias replied with his winning smile, turning to face Jak properly. The fluctuation in the shadows had been difficult to detect through the moonlight washing over his blade, but the movement in the bushes and the voice were unmistakable. Just beyond the touch of torchlight, Jak stood before Tobias. "But aye, it's me."

The conversation seemed anticlimactic for a battle, but old friends faced in grim battle with one another often reminisced about days long gone. Tobias did not relish the prospect of combat against Jak in the dark; each shadow dancing at the edge of his vision sent a wave of discontent down the soldier's spine. Everything about Jak whispered "death." Still, Tobias showed irreverence to his fear, and he pushed his blade comfortably back into its sheath. "Been some time since Salvar," he drawled in a thoughtful way, moving himself toward the left side of the trellis. He intended to make himself less of a target, and also to make Jak come closer as he spoke. The further the Smith came toward the flame, the easier he would be to keep track of. "I don't imagine you missed me. Or any of us," Tobias mused, pointedly bringing Jak's attention away from the fight and to familiar territory. What a sad tale it was, too; the fall of Togan and Mathes... poor Mathes. Upon their arrival in Pestovo after Isstar Maloch sold them out in favor of his own life, Tobias had been given in chains to the Alerian military, Togan arrived in a body bag, and Mathes was charged with attempting to learn hedge magic from a known sorcerer's tomb and put to a gruesome death by the Sway.

Jak had mysteriously disappeared. Tobias harbored no true ill will toward the man, but Mathes had been extremely bitter in his last hours of life. "You never came back for us," he told Jak. "Mathes kept saying you would. Right til the headsman came for him. When he realized you weren't coming..." Tobias looked away. He had felt genuinely bad for his companion, though he and Mathes had not been altogether close.

The flowers Tobias watched were lilting slightly, swaying beneath the cool breeze and pale moonlight. He knelt to touch one and it seemed to recoil. Tobias frowned. "The world is a sad place," he crooned softly, "and filled with sorrows, it drowns choking on its own tears. How is that fair, Jak?"

A pale blue thing, the flower's petals appeared as droplets of water as the wind took them. Tobias' eyes were distant as he watched, and the chill of the night seemed far worse than it truly was. "How is anything fair?" With the baleful gaze of Lament ingrained in his mind, Tobias let out a soft sigh.

There was always an opening. Tobias intentionally left himself open, to ensure Jak would not keep his own guard up. If they faced off in combat straight on, nothing was certain but sadness. Rising to his feet, Tobias turned his now softened smile to Jak, the emptiness in his eyes heartbreaking. "It is good to see you again."

[Kroom]

Something screamed in his chest. Jak had been smiling until Tobias had brought up Salvar, but now he stood a few yards away, motionlessly half-melted into the shadow of some kind of rhododendron shrub with his bow slack.

I couldn't make it in time, his mind howled. It was too bright out, I couldn't make it happen, and I - With a grunt, he killed his own reverie. Don't dare think of that. Wasn't my fault. Fingering the fletching on his arrow, the smith slowly padded forward, keeping to the mottled shadow and always watching Tobias. He'd put on more muscle, and was actually filling out the uniform he wore - Alerian military? Lad must've enlisted for some god-unknown reason.

"Nothing is fair, Tob," he muttered, "you know that, and anybody who says other is a rhut'n liar." In a macabre way, it amused him to see that if anything, Tobias had gotten even more wordily profound. It revived glimpses of that night outside the tomb, before they'd gone down into the gloom. In some ways, maybe he'd never really come back up.
Jak held back from the trellis; something about the way the firelight flickered in it made him uneasy. Best to stay back in the shadows.

"Good to see you too, I reckon," he allowed. "So, was your first as easy as mine?"

[Tobias Stalt]

Nothing was fair, nor was it easy.

Jak remained shied away from the light, and Tobias remained within it. The whole scenario seemed stacked against him, and the soldier cursed the venue that had been chosen for the meeting. Flickering flames lit up his somber expression, and his eyes watched as Jak faded ever so slightly out of view.

By now, the one time merchant had stalked to the closest torch, and was watching the flame intently. Wordlessly he leaned forward like a man leaning into a lover for a kiss, and Tobias blew the flame out. Darkness consumed the left side of the trellis almost instantly, swathing the smaller man in a raiment of deep black. He took a few quick steps backward, bumping with a loud thud into the wooden structure. He was still visible, the afterglow from the torch furthest away just barely touching him. He would have to get outside that sphere of light.

"Everything changes," Tobias said, "nothing is easy."

The response stated bluntly told Jak exactly what he wanted to know in exactly the way he liked hearing it. Short, sweet, to the point. Slipping quickly to the side of the trellis, Tobias moved from Jak's direct line of sight. This way, there were no shadows. Just the dark. Jak would be more difficult to see, but those flames created too many openings for Jak to exploit.

Singing a shrill song, his blade erupted from its sheath and glistened in the moonlight. Its reflection like a beacon just before fading, Tobias let it fall before him and uttered a silent, unheard prayer to any god who might be listening. He remained with his back to the wood, leaving very few avenues for Jak to approach.

"He kept saying you'd be back," Tobias said softly, "and I kept telling him to give up on hope. Because nothing is fair." He left the rest open to interpretation; it was an admission more than accusation, but it certainly gave him a way into the Smith's head. That would keep the arrows stayed, for a short while.

Listening more than watching, Tobias' eyes seemed to frost over as he let his thin breaths escape. He barely noticed the movement going on around him, though it still occurred to him offhand. The slightest rustle or crunch of a footstep might save his life.

'Not like this,' he thought shakily, 'not here.' The concepts were blurred, unspecific, disjointed, but all of them ran through his veins like adrenaline. He could barely contain his fear mixed with survival instinct, and the slowly creeping despair. Sadness had kept him to now, and hopefully it would continue to preserve him. 'If you're watching, Lament... now would be a great time to intervene.'

When no response came through the silence, Tobias felt the warmth of a tear stain his cheek. "And this is tragedy," he mouthed, waiting.

[Kroom]

There he goes again, bringing up Mathes… Jak clenched his teeth and glared daggers at his friend. What the hell did he know about fairness? About anything? What was he doing, harping on Mathes' last words like this? The bastard. Leave the dead their silence.

"Shut up, Tobias," Jak growled, "or I swear to pits below I'll drill you full of arrows like I drilled that first girl. Congratulations, you figured it out, life isn't fair. Next you'll be bitching about how some people get to lord it over others. It's the way things are, boy." He spat the last word like a bullet. "People die every day, and some days they're your friends, and there's not a damn thing you can do about it. So you lift a drink in their memory and you move on."

The smith stepped out from the shadows of the hedge and into the watery moonlight as he spoke, a black shape with a drawn bow and arrow about twenty feet away from the trellis. The smith circled to his left, seeking a clear line of sight on the soldier. The arrow was lifted and aimed, waiting for a shot at Tobias' heart.

"But I count you a friend, Tobias. I don't want to kill you tonight, not if I don't have to. And I won't unless you make me. We both know I could. The night doesn't stop my eyes, not anymore." The bow slowly lowered. "I'm making this offer once. There has to be a winner here. You drop your weapons, and I'll drop mine, and we can beat each other to pieces without needing to make this ugly."

Though Tobias wouldn't be able to see it, he could probably hear the smith's grin when he said, "As friends."

[Tobias Stalt]

"Typical Jak." Tobias mouthed the words more than voicing them, staring down at the ground now with his back slumped against the vine covered wood. It would be a matter of moments before Jak could fully circle the trellis and make anything lasting happen to Tobias. The Smith could see better in the dark, a fact that Solider well knew. It was the anger rising in Jak which Tobias fed. The venom that his friend returned at the prodding was not unexpected, nor was the customary wisdom Jak enjoyed doling out at everything he said.

Instead of answering Jak's words with venom of his own, Tobias quietly began to scale the side of the trellis, gripping vine and wood to hoist himself upward. It took some doing with his sword in hand, but by the time Jak finished the statement about the ease with which he could kill Tobias the rogue was slipping onto the top of the arch.

Reiterating their friendship below, Jak had made some kind of offer about pummeling each other. Tobias did not need to see the arrow notched to know it was there. Tobias had to wait, now. Holding the sword close to his chest to sequester it away from the light, Tobias stayed low and waited for Jak to appear. The last place Jak would have seen him go was behind the trellis, and he had just enough cover to scale the side without detection.

Compounding his quiet movement with Jak's own words, Tobias had effectively made his ascent silent. Now, the Solider needed a better opening on the Smith than that damn bow gave his opponent on him. There was a time when Jak could easily have backed those words up. Tobias had once held a cause to fear Rute as some kind of enigma that he could not deal with, but now he only saw another corpse in need of making.

Thus was the tragedy of friendship. Ill luck and fate end all things in their own course. The salty tears at the edges of Tobias' eyes stung as he blinked them back, and the youth hated himself for every thought in his mind. He trusted Jak less now than he ever had, and Tobias wondered if friendship could ever endure the test of time.

Reality sank it's fangs in with the realization that nothing endures time. Tobias watched in silence at the area where the words had come from, pale moonlight reflected off the head of an arrow offering the only proper view of Jak. Tobias was careful not to call attention to himself, breathing quietly as he could manage and waiting for the other man to investigate.

The window for surprise was infinitely small, and too soon or too late would not suffice. The bow would need to be eliminated from the equation. 'You don't know what I've been through, Jak,' Tobias thought, 'and assuming I'm the same little boy with a big mouth is going to be your undoing.'

It was the ultimate resource he had been drawing upon with each carefully chosen word; Jak and he had spoken at length about the world, and the man had seen much of Tobias' fear. Jak had seen Tobias become quietly introspective, and even stunned into silence. What Jak had not seen was the resourceful, cunning strategist that his friend had slowly begun developing into. He knew Tobias to be a solider, but the circumstances surrounding that enlistment were unclear.

Everything that led up to this moment worked in Tobias' favor. If he could just turn this into a swordfight, he would have a far better chance of making it out alive.

[Kroom]

Jak paused in his circle, six yards from the trellis. Not a sound - not the boy's breathing, not the leaves, not a nightbird, nothing. The smith clenched his fingers on the bow's grip. Something was aching, just above his stomach and just below his lungs. It was nothing physical; that sort of reaction belonged to young women with 'broken hearts,' and characters in fairytales carved from insipid falsehoods. Jak refused to countenance that sort of idea.

At the same time, he heard Tobias' silence, and it stung something in him that was almost material. Tobias' silent refusal to maintain whatever friendship they had had in Salvar, his silent denial of Jak's extended hand. Not that it was much of an offer, Jak reflected. 'Give up your chance to properly defend yourself and let me beat you without killing you.' Not much of an offer at all, I guess. Jak had seen men beaten for the fun of it. He thanked whatever gods or fates or fortunes might be favoring him that he had never been beaten like that, beaten until he sobbed and vomited, beaten until he shook and longed for death or unconsciousness or any kind of release. It was a miserable thing. Jak had had nothing like that in mind, but how could Tobias know that. He was some sort of soldier now, he must have had some idea of what it looked like when two pugilists began to batter each other. Any beauty was savage, the beauty of displayed prowess.

"…right, then." His only words, his only acknowledgment as whatever bond they had shared died.

Jak's night-eyes saw the trellis rocking slightly, ever so slightly, disturbed by something large carefully ascending the structure. No mouse, not squirrel, not even a possum or raccoon. Maybe a large monkey. A monkey about the size of a man. Jak clenched his jaw and relaxed his bowstring, taking four or five steps back. He thought he could see a dark shape atop the trellis' wooden arch. If that were Tobias, he was keeping himself low enough that Jak didn't trust his own abilities to make a shot on him. He could retreat farther to gain a better look, but that would only add distance and make his shot that much more difficult.

The smith hesitated a moment.

Then with a fluid motion and a quick breath, he raised his weapon, drew the arrow back to his chin, and loosed the arrow at the dark patch he was glimpsing atop the trellis.

[Tobias Stalt]

Watching in silence as Jak trudged forward, Tobias settled back onto his haunches atop the trellis. Several moments passed as the light from the fire reflected off of the Smith's weapon, and Jak began to take aim. Between them was nothing more than an admission of loss, and a funeral without mourning to honor their forgotten friendship.

It should never have been like this. In a better world filled with the fairness that Jak preached did not exist, men who shared a meal over the fire would never wage war with one another. Here was Jak, ready to fire; Tobias leaning backward sucked in a breath, and he prepared for the next movement of their dangerous dance.

The firelit trellis lurched beneath the Solider's weight as he rose, and it shifted unsteadily backward. To tell Jak to fight like a man seemed more funny than fitting, given his current standing. Anything he threw at the Smith could easily be deflected or made useless. Tobias needed to find the opening.

Rocking with a loud creak now, in almost fluid time with the loosed arrow, Tobias leaned his weight backward and the entire fixture at the garden's center began to topple. Tobias felt like the world was moving in slow motion, an arrow streaking narrowly in front of his face. Heart jumping into his throat, he began to suspect divine intervention rather than perfectly executed planning.

He gave a short yelp, and Tobias rolled backward just as the trellis slammed to the ground with a thunderous thud. The shock was minimally abated by his movement, but he came to his knees behind makeshift cover with heavy breaths plaguing him. The roguish lad lacked the luxury of rest; he was able to avoid the bow once, but he would not likely do it again.

The flame dancing somewhere between the two men mocked them, two shadows afraid to come into the light. Tobias was eager to do away with this cat and mouse Jak seemed to prefer, but he needed to draw the bastard in. "All arrows and no cock, Rute? I guess it's too much to ask a damn Smith to ever actually use a sword, eh?"

The appeal was weak, granted. Tobias used the sound of his voice to guide Jak closer, and because of the overturned trellis he retained an element of surprise. To make the goading more impacting, Tobias deigned to add: "I'll bet you're great with a hammer, but when they want you to use your actual wares, you get limp dicked. Not too far off, am I?"

Catching his breath between words, Tobias listened carefully for the sound of footsteps. Gripping his Dwarven steel sword, the weak bodied warrior prepared to face his former friend. If he could somehow force the bow out of Jak's hands, he could end this without fatality.

He damn well wasn't going to let the Smith show him up. The way Jak was sure he would win only served to fuel Tobias' tenacity, and drove him that much more to overcome the adversity. The curse of the strategist was always trying to out think his opponent, and Tobias was far more accursed than most.

[Kroom]

The arrow had hummed lazily through the air, like a grouchy drunk fumbling a punch. That drunk had missed his punch, but instead he'd gone stumbling into the support beam and brought the tavern crashing down on his 'enemy.'

Jak couldn't help but gape slightly as the entire trellis toppled away from him, and something in his throat wanted to guffaw. It was a ludicrous sight; simply a launched arrow that had missed its target, and yet the target had brought its roost crashing down. That was Jak's guess of the instant, at least; he'd heard no sound of arrowhead in wood, and he hadn't seen the arrow hit the trellis, nor had he put that much force into the shot. There was no conceivable way his arrow had brought down the structure.

As soon as it was loosed, Jak had fished another shaft from his arrow bag and nocked it to the string, taking three steps forward as he tried to get a closer look. The firelight gave him a glimpse of Tobias, tumbling backwards from the fallen trellis, and Jak raised his bow again. Drilled full of arrows, just like that girl. He was about to loose when he heard Tobias yapping at him, and paused. The bow did not lower, but neither did it bend any further.

For a moment, Jak was a hair's breadth from burying his arrow in the dirt and attacking Tobias with blades drawn. He checked the impulse, though - he was fighting. Pride had no place here, and especially if that pride put Jak in danger. If Tobias was taunting him to put steel to steel, then the best bet Jak could make was to keep his bow in hand.

A breath slowly hissed between his teeth, and his eyes narrowed, sighting into the darkness. The torch was between him and Tobias, and it was obscuring his vision. Jak strafed to his right, letting his sight 'cool.' Tobias was nowhere to be seen. His voice had been too close and Jak had heard nothing after the taunt. For Tobias to have fled quickly enough to be out of sight, he would have been heard. Sitting in plain sight, however, was a very capable visual obstacle: the fallen trellis. It was about three feet wide, more than enough to hide somebody of Tobias' size.

"For a soldier, you're an idiot," Jak grunted, fully drawing his bow and strafing to his forward-left, aiming for the trellis. He would put his shot into one of the ivy-covered gaps of the trellis, at about the middle of the arch, about a foot above ground level. At this distance - perhaps four and a half yards - the shot would not be difficult. "Never give up an advantage."

The bow thrummed, loosing the broadhead shaft straight for the gap.

[Tobias Stalt]

The thumping of Tobias' heart in his ears was a minor annoyance now, and when the sound of footsteps never came he knew it was time to act. Jak's words did the same as Tobias had intended for his own- they gave away the Smith's position. Opposite the torch, Jak was readying an arrow and the Solider had to assume a shot would be coming.

Gathering his feet under himself, Tobias lunged upward. Over the trellis he barrelled, the fast moving shaft of an arrow whooshing beneath him. There was no time to react to his own gambit, or to the sinking feeling of barely missing another arrow. There was only time to surge toward the torch.

As he rushed the flame, Tobias reached out for the pole and ripped it out of the ground. "Shove it up your goddamn arse, Jak Roth Rute," Tobi hissed as he swung the spearhead of flame toward where Jak would have been standing, a wide arcing blow meant to take the man off guard.

The stars were weeping now, blurred on every side as though Tobias had gone to a new level of speed in his own mind. The terror that led his movements shifted his world into a bloodbath where light and darkness waged eternal war. Nothing made sense. This was the world where Jak lived, and from which Tobias longed to escape: war.

Both of them were lost in the heat of conflict; Jak was searching for a path to victory, and Tobias struggled to steal it away. In that, Tobias had never changed. He was a thief of possessions, of ideas, of victory itself. His scream bled out to join the world, surrounding him in a million lifetimes of agony. The tip of the flame illuminated Jak's figure, and shed light onto Tobias' tears. Unfair as the world was, it refused to offer any respite.

The sword in his left hand sang outward in defiance of the bow, slashing to impede the weapon from aiming true. Each breath seemed ragged, but he trudged on in defiance of his mind and body howling protests. There were no words for the sorrow in their world, so Tobias offered none now.

[Kroom]

Jak's heart lurched into motion as Tobias came vaulting over the toppled trellis, and for a captured instant, Jak was astonished by what he saw. The Soldier-Boy, tears streaming over his face in the firelight, savage curses on his lips torn from a ragged throat - Tobias was mourning. Mourning what? He had given up on Jak, what reason had he to grieve?

These thoughts had no time to be processed, however. Men can move astonishingly quickly over short distances, and Tobias was resolved to move quickly. He swept up the torch-pole and came at Jak, stabbing with it like a spear. Jak ceased thinking in that instant and reacted instinctually. His left hand swung out and to his right, using the strung bow like a baton to intercept and deflect the torch-pole as Jak took a long step to his left, Tobias' right.

His eyes popped with the sudden thrust of light from the torch and Jak blinked as he moved, slitting his lids to shut out the excess light. At the same time, his instinct registered that Tobias' nightvision must be significantly more compromised by the torchlight, and that pleased something in him.

The Smith let the bow fly from his hand, following through with his deflection maneuver. It was useless now, and he was not terribly afraid for it. Even if it were irreparably damaged, he could buy or make a new one. Perhaps one of those Alerian mechanical flat-bows was in his future.

As he side-stepped, the Smith crouched and swept his right hand past his belt. A flicker of steel, shining in the flickering light. He had loosed a throwing knife, straight for Tobias' thighs. At this range, a miss would be beyond belief. Following through with his sidestep, Jak finished his momentum with another step to his left, whipping his short-sword from its scabbard and wheeling to face Tobias. A dangerous light was gleaming in his green eyes, his face hooded in shadow.

Shadows embrace me.

[Tobias Stalt]

The bow mangled with the torch and tumbled to the ground as Tobias let his improvised weapon go, focusing his concentration on his sword. Jak expertly ducked away from the strike, and in the firelight that bathed the two men Tobias saw his evil eyes blaze. It was too late to fully stop the thrown dagger, though Tobias was able to react slightly.

Sluggishly his body turned, and the blade dug into the meat of his leg at the outside of his hip. Jak was a skilled sneak, and Tobias gathered immediately they shared an intimate knowledge of the body. The aim was impeccable, thrown for a lethal point at such short range, and with as such precision afforded. Jak was a monster built of instincts, the perfect parallel to Tobias' cold, concise calculations.

Blood belched from the sides of the weapon like a man overstuffed from dinner, and Tobias gave a short cry as he ripped the weapon from his hip with the free hand then tossed it to the ground. His tears stemmed now from frustration and rage, not just sorrow; his plan had gone only slightly awry.

Forcing Jak into close combat was difficult, but he had succeeded. The blood that slipped free of his wound was a small price, for an arrow would have been far more lethal than the wound he had now. In the same motion as he had ripped the offensive weapon away, Tobias flicked his sword across at Jak's outstretched arm and sought to graze the appendage and even the count. Blood would be paid for in blood, even as Jak twisted his body and jerked his own blade free of its scabbard.

Their blades met in a flash of steel, the shrill cry of swords echoing as the flora at their feet began to catch fire. Tobias' eyes were wild, wet from tears and ablaze with purpose. Tobias pressed forward from his position standing above Jak, who had unwisely lowered his body. It would be a short lived advantage, but not one Tobias would refuse to exploit.

This was an opponent who would test all of Tobias' training to its limits. He twisted his body to add momentum to his pressure, attempting to force Jak's blade downward. He looked up for the Smith's eyes, and Tobias allowed himself a smirk.

[Kroom]

Jak's arm was battered aside by Tobias' sword after he released the dagger, but the boiled leather vambrace saved his skin. He hissed, already frustrated at the knowledge that if he survived his arm would be viciously bruised for the next few days, but his frustration was quickly tempered. The hiss of pain turned into a gleaming grin of victory as he saw Tobias yelp and yank the steel shard from his leg.

The soldier-boy recovered quickly, however, and despite the tears in his eyes saw clearly enough to swing viciously at the crouching Smith. Jak's own sword flickered in the firelight and caught the weapon on his own, over his head. In that instant, feeling the shake in his sword, Jak was impressed. Somehow, Tobias had gotten his hands on a decent piece of smithing. Won't save him. Jak could feel Tobias bearing down, sinking his strength and attempting to force Jak's blade down. The Smith's eyes danced up and caught Tobias: he was smirking.

The shadows boiled, and Jak's face went blank. He rammed his sword to his left, aiming to knock Tobias' weapon over his head and to his left as Jak burst up and to his right; hopefully putting his own body past Tobias' sword, and putting himself outside of Tobias' sword arm. His body rejoiced in the explosion of strength, closing on the Soldier like sin to a saint.

At the same time, his left hand swept up from his belt, carrying another flicker of steel: his second throwing knife. The sharpened sliver of metal shot straight up, aiming to slash into Tobias' left bicep and armpit, targeting the cluster of veins and nerves there. Jak's formidable strength and years of experience brought with them a ferocious speed, and he was using every ounce of it. Between the tears in Tobias' eyes, and the tricks of the firelight, Jak had every hope of cutting the Soldier again.

Bleed, Tobias.

[Tobias Stalt]

Tobias stepped backward as his blade was beaten away. Jak was a powerful man, and Tobias was considerably frail in comparison. Bringing his blade down in a fast sweep, Tobias returned quickly to his guard. He would not allow Jak to overpower him. Firelight illuminated the previously hidden form of the Smith, burning at Tobias' stained cheeks as the tears there began to sizzle. At last, they were even.

Not hidden and without his bow, Jak had been forced into close combat with Tobias. Triumphantly the Soldier held his ground, moving to defend. The second weapon swung around before Tobias knew what was happening, but his guard fell quickly enough into place to ward away the stab. Both blades bellowed their disdain.

The ringing of steel resonated for a moment as Tobias scowled at the impact, readying for the sword to come back for a second round. "We have bigger problems than this pissing contest," Tobias hissed through gritting teeth, turning his blade in order to maximize reaction time. The flames reflected in the mirror sheen of his blade whispered promises of death.

Reasoning with Jak was among the last things Tobias intended. They were past the point of words, and logic would sound sardonic. Each aspect of his plan had been stained by tragedy, from falling to flailing, and finally fire. The irony was not lost on him. In the flames behind Jak, Tobias swore he caught a glimpse of two terrible eyes swollen with tears. "You bastard," he muttered, not bothering to clarify who he was speaking to.

Sadness was the truth of war. In victory or defeat, there is always tragedy. Two friends locked in combat were the most tragic truth of all. Lament rose from the flames behind Jak, lifting a book and quill and scribbling furiously. Tobias let out a grunt in frustration. He held against the onslaught from the larger man, if only just. Reality struck hard; Tobias stood less chance against arrows, but this was little better.

The elemental aspect of Despair seemed transfixed. Two men who had been friends filled pages beneath his pen, like a god writing in the book of fate. "It wasn't supposed to be this way," Tobias stated, backing up as flames licked his flesh and sent tendrils of searing pain through him. "I was supposed to end this without sadness."

In a disjointed voice, the baleful reply came. "There is only sadness," Lament mocked, and Tobias shivered.

"I won't accept that," the Solider rasped in defiance, keeping the flat of his blade up. He probed the weapon forward toward Jak's face, hoping to force the man backward. "I won't let it end this way."

"It already has." The flames were raging up the outlying plants, swallowing the garden and fast shutting the way out. The night had become as alive as day, and the flames were sweltering. Tobias was not convinced this was not hell. The figure of Jak mocked him, and Lament looked like the devil himself. "This is the end," Lament whispered, its face a deadpan.

Tobias slowly looked to Jak, shaking visibly. "Is it over?" He had no hope that the man would respond kindly. Blades formed the last smile the Solider would ever see, whether the fire finished him or they did. Tobias let out a sad sigh. "I suppose it is."

The dance began anew. Flames circled them now, barring all hope of escape. In the maw of death, the two men were laid bare. "I never meant to let this happen," Tobias admitted. "I was trying..." His voice flitted away, heart awash with fury at the unfairness of all this. "You can't cheat fate."

At the end of all things, Tobias smiled.

[Kroom]

Thought was almost gone, and yet it remained. Jak had entered a demi-realm of mental function, a place where instinct and training was king, while cognition and reflection simply sat on the sidelines and observed with snide commentary. You're going to burn, Smith. Ironic, no? Work with hot metal all your life and now die in fire.

The two men clashed and separated, Jak wincing as his left arm was batted away. His throwing knife was slipped back into its sheath, but rapidly replaced by the long fighting dagger, Jak wielding both of his own blades in unison. His eyes narrowed, his vision tunneling in on Tobias for a moment. The boy spoke, and Jak refused to hear him. A knot of anger in his chest had slammed shut leaden doors over his ears, and it did not want to hear anything that Tobias had to say.

He turned me down, it hissed, louder than the fire and twice as fierce, no forgiveness. Claim his life, let the shadows embrace him and decide his fate. Kill him. Jak twirled the weapons in his hands, and slid his feet backwards to prepare for a rush.

His feet danced away, though, seared by the burning ground. Jak's reverie was broken, and he hissed in pain, dancing slightly as he tried to ease his scorched heels. Instinct fixed his eyes on Tobias, making sure that his 'enemy' was not taking advantage of his own distraction. What he saw confused him. Tobias was staring past him, into the fire consuming the hedge around them, and for a moment, Jak thought he saw the shape of a man, maybe a scribe writing in a large book. Tobias came forward, menacing Jak with his weapon.

"I won't let it end this way."

Who is he talking to? Jak whipped about, trying to simultaneously keep an eye on Tobias and look for the stranger. Scribes in infernos spoke of magic, possibly gods, and where gods walked, wise mortals fled. Jak's guard lowered as he looked back to Tobias, squinting in the billowing heat.

"Is it over? I suppose it is." Jak's mind raced - what was the boy's problem? Why did he seem so damnably mournful? "I never meant to let this happen. I was trying… you can't cheat fate."

In an instant, it all came together. Tobias had not accepted Jak's plan, but he had been fighting for a peaceful, bloodless resolution. He had been as devastated by the rupture of their friendship as Jak had - he was simply less skilled at hiding his grief.

Jak had betrayed the friendship that he had accused Tobias of severing, and in that instant he knew what he would do.

"…can't you, though?" he whispered, drowned in the roar of the flames. His eyes fluttered, feeling the flex and flow of the power around him. There might be a god walking in the flames around them, but which was stronger: a god, or the forces from which gods crafted their domains? Which was more powerful - the boat, or the ocean it rode?

In the hollow of flames, shadows are born.

Jak sheathed his weapons and held his hands up in a show of peace. "I've always thought you could, Tobias." The world began to warp. Jak could feel the swell and surge of its power. He was about to break through, through something against which he had long strained and to something for which he had been longing.

Tobias looked up at him and smiled with such sorrow in his eyes that Jak's chest ached. I will not die, but live. This was not their end. They both had bigger stories to tell than this, roasted alive in a garden after a meaningless scuffle. Jak would not allow this to be their end. The Smith stepped forward slowly, walking ahead of the fire as it lapped at his legs. His arms spread. Trust me, Tobias. "Trust me, Tobias. Forgive me, and trust me."

Jak felt the power billow, and for a moment the flames cowered away from the two men. The light dimmed, and shadows flickered in its absence. The Smith stepped closer, and wrapped his arms around Tobias. Something in the air flexed, bands of unseen iron and sinew - or was it something in his mind?

"Shadows," whispered Jak, "embrace me."

As the two men vanished from the doomed inferno, Jak would have sworn he heard a god gasp in shock. It made him smile.

The boat, and the river.

[Max Dirks]

I have to say, I was quite impressed with you both. Though you didn't write like it, you are still classified as newbies for the tournament and will receive full commentary. Like before, I've combined comments. TS means Tobias Stalt and KM means Kroom.



Tobias StaltKroomNotes

Story
6
5
TS: Good job of explaining your characters' history for those of us who are new to your adventures. I gave you an extra point for your well written conclusion, as well. KM: As we discussed, your conclusion would not be counted for judging purposes.



Setting
6
5
TS: Though I quickly grew tired of the trellis, I felt you did a better job of conveying imagery in your prose. Creating a makeshift weapon from the torch also helped you here.


Pacing
5
6
TS: See your Clarity score.


Communication
5
5



Action
4
5
TS: This is the area you need to improve upon the most. Particularly, you need to focus on the clarity of your actions. I anticipate your struggles here are a result of a T1 background where the goal is to outmaneuver your opponent. However, on Althanas small positioning shifts mean little if it detracts from the pace of the battle. Focus on brevity. After each action you write, read over it and see if it can be written as effectively with fewer words. You'll find that if you do this, the quality of your writing will improve. Also, many of your dodges seemed convenient & unnatural. Again, taking a hit is not required, but if you prefer to escape unharmed, you need to do so in a non-convoluted way.


Persona
5
7
KM: I must say your persona was exceptional. Your character's desire to win the tournament was apparent from the beginning. Kroom's anger with Tobias was well developed and incredibly well articulated in Post 7.


Mechanics
6
6
Both: Spelling and grammar was actually fine. I do note both of you continue to use run-on sentences on occasion, though. Remember, if you could put a period where you have a comma or a semicolon and have two complete sentences on each side you have a run-on.


Clarity
5
6
TS: While positioning your character in the trellis, you tended to be repetitive not only with your character's actions, but with your word use as well. Rather than feel suspense, the repetition distracted me from the point.


Technique
5
6
KM: Good use of simile in your writing.


Wildcard
5
3
KM: Since the battle was incomplete, I took your posting delays into account in the score.

Total
Total
52/10054/100



Kroom wins!

Kroom advances to Round 3!
Tobias Stalt is very much alive in Round 2 of the Redemption Bracket!

Kroom earns 500 EXP and 86 GP
Tobias Stalt earns 150 EXP and 84 GP.

[Lye]

EXP & GP Added!

Tobias is 20 EXP short from level 2!