Fallen

[Ashla]

Closed to Red.


As she entered the dark arena, a young woman removed her shawl and scarf. At first, it seemed like there was nothingness. She dropped the scarf and shawl on the ground though, and the entire place lit up. The entire place looked like a foundry. Isles of random pieces of scrap were left devoid of life. The young woman lifted her black boot and stomped on the ground. Solid concrete. Blue and brown eyes looked upon the unenlightened shop. She crossed her arms, causing her dark blue shirt to ripple. Her dark navy pants wete overlayed with several weapons at her hips. A man in a half sword, a steel longsword, and a masterwork crosspistol were attached to her belt. On her back, a buckler and twin butterfly blades were also ready to draw. The black haired woman blinked, scanning the dusty, dirty, area for several seconds.

"Well," she muttered, "I'm back."

Back where? To the Citadel. How many times had she come here before? ... and how many times did she fall? This young lady was different now. She viewed her old self, a teenage girl who had been struck down multiple times here, to be deceased. Ashla Icebreaker was dead in her mind, a new person stood here today.

This time she would not fail.

She sighed and pulled her hands, covered in gauntlets, to her hips. The way she gripped herself, the black, Eiskaltian metal claws peaked through the leather gloves. She looked around one more time, What does the Citadel have to throw at me here? She waited.

[redford]

John stepped forward, having to stoop a little to enter the arena. It was dry and hot in this one, and the clank of machinery filled the air. The entire arena was steeped in an orange glow that came from four giant furnaces at the corners of the room. Scrap lay in heaps on the floor, piled high. The entire arena had an aura of disrepair.

John disturbed a layer of dust on the floor as he entered. He looked up, seeing a small woman bathed in the red ambient light. She wore weapons, several of them, and John spied the edge of a small shield over her shoulder. Most importantly though, he saw a hand crossbow at her hip, a small bolt already drawn back in it. He would need to close the distance quickly.

There was a small clearing amidst the forest of broken iron and steel. He stepped into the clearing from the opposite edge and formed long claws at the end of his gauntlets. He placed a hand over his chest.

"John," he said plainly, moving a foot back so he could form a better stance. He closed his eyes and breathed out slowly, calming himself. He pulled his hands up, ready for a move from his opponent.

[Ashla]

The woman blinked, briefly taken back by the size of this gruff looking man. He was tall. Very tall. The young woman reached back and placed her hand on her crosspistol, "Ayleth. Shall we begin?"

A stillness fell upon the two as her opponent slipped into position. Ayleth let a small smile spread across her face; this man must have experience. She pulled out her hand held crossbow and pointed it at John. Her posture was sturdy, her face now cold as she dropped her smile. She pulled the trigger, the bolt flying towards him. Ayleth expected, Ayleth hoped, he'd dodge it. Whoever you are, I won't be easy on you.

As the bolt flew, five, clear needles of ice formed around her body. They floated around her body, pointed towards her opponent. One by one, after the bolt, they flew towards this John. The bolt was a detour, a distraction. The real worries were those needles. The rusted bolts seemed to stir in anticipation, the chunks of ore simmering as if being smelted down at the moment. Even the light seemed to churn a bit brighter, the stage ready for the marvelous show of a war between rock and water. Ayleth smirked as she watched the results of her attack; the boring, old foundry now stirred up in a match between two foes!

[redford]

The moment she drew the small crossbow, John was moving forward. There was no time for reaction, he needed to close the distance between them as quickly as possible. He barreled toward her, intent on either disarming her, or at least forcing her to resort to close combat.

She seemed to be concentrating on something. John wondered for a split second what that might be before a painful cold spiked in his right shoulder and leg. He ignored the pain and charged forward, attempting to grapple her. He used his speed and extended a fist at her.

She dodged quickly to his right, so quickly that it concerned John a little about actually closing that distance. His hand passed through air and crashed into a pile of metal debris as he looked to where she had stepped, around ten paces away. He turned his body left, closing his hand on a piece of metal from the pile, using his rotation to add speed to the throw. He brought all his strength to bear as he ripped whatever he had grabbed from the tower of scrap and flung it at her. pieces of metal flew outward and a small avalanche of parts and pieces long forgotten followed.

As he let it go, he followed as fast as he could, trying to follow where she would dodge the metal and meet her at the end of her motion.

[Ashla]

Ayleth frowned, this was a stronger opponent she fought. She was impressed at his speed and strength, heaving a bunch of scrap metal at her. As the scrap iron flew at her like a bullet, she sighed and caused a wall of ice to come up between them. The scrap was now caught between a hunk of frozen water.

Ayleth stepped out from behind the wall, drawing her damascus man in a half sword, the Hail Storm's Daughter. She steadily walked up to the massive man, staring up at him with a smidge of confidence. This was exactly the kind of opponent who could have been Ashla's bane. Tall, sturdy, strong...

Unfortunately, this man was not dealing with Ashla - at least in the women's twisted mind.

Ayleth dropped low, and in a posture full of elegance, aimed her weapon at John's lower legs. She hoped to cripple him, and if this blow didn't work... it would be followed by many more.

[redford]

John skidded to a halt as the ice wall went up, a six inch wide nut he threw burying itself into the surface., and others caught within. She emerged from behind it, crouching low as John took a step forward.

Magic, he thought, wondering what other tricks the girl had. He felt the cold in his bones at his leg and shoulder already.

I need to be more careful, he mused, though given the option, he would charge at her again, if only because of her power at a distance.

John leapt back just in time to dodge the swing aimed at his feet. She took two quick steps forward and swung so quickly that John barely had time to pull up a gauntleted hand to block the downward strike from her hand-and-a-half sword that she had drawn just as fast. The clang of purer metals rung out amid the furnaces’ racket, and she swung again, aiming at his legs, and this time John had time to react while she pulled away from his hand. He caught the blade as it closed toward his thigh, and couldn’t help but smirk just a little at her obvious shock. Most weren’t aware of his gauntlet’s magical properties, which yielded quite a surprise from those he caught off guard.

He pulled on the sword, her initial reaction to hold on tighter proving ill-advised as she moved forward with it, and John raised a boot, kicking her in the chest with great strength, sending her flying into the pile of debris behind her.

He looked down at the sword briefly. It was a beautiful thing, the curves and lines nearly perfect. It was a fine blade, it had form as well as function. He could likely forge something similar, but it would be a disrespect to the original smith. Either way, it did better good out of his hand than in it, so he tossed it behind him into the forest of scrap.

[Ashla]

Being hit and sent flying is one thing, being hit in the chest and sent flying is another. As Ayleth crashed into a heap of scrap, she felt even more pain explode. Now, the Icebreaker had a strong endurance, so she was able to deal with the pain. As she staggered to her feet, hair in her face, her blue eye developed an icy coat. She was angry.

Only Ashla would fall for something stupid as that! Ayleth growled, This is Ayleth this guy is dealing with!

Ayleth not only was infuriated, she was scared. This is something that would have happened to Ashla, why would it happen to Ayleth as well? She hissed, nothing but pure hate shone through her eyes: one like chips of ice, the other so dark brown it looked red. She tightened her fists, frost seemingly disintegrating off her hand. John would be getting it...

She kicked a piece of iron aside, stepping out of pile of scrap metal. As she walked up to John, she extended one hand and caused a fanciful spear to form. The spear, at first, was blue. However, the spear slowly developed into the color black instead.

"Do you know who you're dealing with, John?" Ayleth asked, "Do you know what power I possess?"

The Icebreaker, enraged by her defeat, threw the now poisonous spear at John. She then caused several shards of ice to form around her. She lifted her hand up, ready to cause the ice to fly towards him. In the back of her mind, she kept track, The needless were way less than a pound, the wall twenty pounds, this spear was ten pounds... these shards are about one pound each... I only have about thirty seven pounds left...

She growled, no longer playing games. She had to take this John down, and quickly.

[redford]

John had clearly angered his opponent. This ‘Ayleth’ had clearly shifted her stance and demeanor, looking almost crazed as she emerged from the pile of debris. She spoke, nearly spitting out the words as she held a hand up and a spear of ice formed, turning black slowly.

“No,” he said plainly. But I expect I will find out soon enough.

He took a step forward and leaned into a strike as the spear left her hand. His fist connected with it and icy pain ran up his forearm as the javelin tore through his left fist and a burrowed halfway into his forearm.

John bellowed in pain as his vision blurred, stumbling as he barreled toward his opponent. As he closed on her, he allowed the pain to spark an intense focus within him, and raised his injured forearm, now a piercing weapon, aimed at her.

John intended to give as good as he got, literally

[Ashla]

Ayleth's eyes widened, completely shocked that this guy took a spear in the arm and was racing towards her full speed. John was really worth something as a fighter, she would give him that. That was as good as the armed spear (pun maybe intended) would get out of her. She lifted one hand, as the other controlled the floating ice shards. The delyn plates of her gauntlets reflected the ice. Icebreaker caused the ice of the bloodied spear to connect to a new hunk of ice that came out the ground. Heavy soundwaves fell up from the ground, the concrete violently cracked as the ice shot up; connecting to the ice of her spear. With her opponent slowed to a stop, the ice disconnected again in a bone chilling crack.

Ayleth took several steps back, considering, Only ten pounds of ice left... better use it wisely. Even more though, this dangerous opponent, simply named John, could have more up his sleeve than her abilities could handle.

The halfling narrowed her eyes, sweat collecting at her hairline. John's reply, it teased at Ayleth's easily offended personality. It made her more infuriated than before. Ashla, since she was born, was constantly, always rejected and tossed aside as a nobody. Ayleth craved change.

"You are looking at a genuine Icebreaker from Eiskalt." She threw her other hand forward, causing three of seven to fly towards him. One lucky shard had the ability to explode when it hit anything, "Show some respect, John..." Ayleth growled.

[redford]

John growled as the abrupt stop drove the mass of ice another inch up into his forearm. He watched her blurred form and struggled to react as the shards flew his way. By luck or instinct, he dodged two and the third grazed his thigh, leaving a chilling gash. He heard the crash of metal as something behind him exploded, but he dared not take his eyes off Ayleth. She seemed to have a pride that was almost hubris in nature, it seemed she thought John owed her something. Like he ought to thank the woman for every blow she dealt him. Though her arrogance was annoying, She seemed to fight well, and figured out his tricks before he could close the distance. Now he was scrambling to keep up. She spoke through clenched teeth, her fists nearly shaking with anger. It was the anger of a child who wants to be noticed and accepted, but never has been.

“Show some respect, John.”

John felt his vision begin to clear slowly as he turned towards the nearest pile of scrap, the one he had kicked her into a few seconds ago. He shoved the ice spear into it, his focus wavering for a second as he brought his arm up. He hoped the girl wouldn’t take too much advantage, rooted in place as he was.

“If I did not respect you,” He began, grunting loudly in pain as he brought his right arm down, breaking the spear in half with a deep crack. He looked up to her again, regaining his composure as the pain faded into the numbing cold again. “I would not be fighting you.”

John turned to face her, this time he was ready.

[Ashla]

Ayleth growled, she totally had the ability to knock him out now... but John's last words confused her. He wouldn't even be fighting her if he had no respect? It confused the halfling. How should she reply to this? Ayleth bit her lip, "Hmm..."

She cast her arm forth again, bringing the four other ice shards to fly again. However, the shards flew into a rusted shelf. Ayleth tightened her fists, causing the claws in her gauntlets to unsheath. She flexed her bare fingers, her delyn plates shining, as a coat of ice covered the Lividus Chalybs claws at her knuckles.

Ayleth knew a lot about unarmed combat, even if she lacked in formal training or proper muscle. She learned from raw experience, which far surpassed any training! She slowly walked up to John, "Tell you what..." she spoke in a voice that dripped in the venom of anger. At the same time though, her voice was cold and calm. Her icy eye faded back to blue. If this jerk actually had respect, then she would unwittingly return the favor.

"Why don't we end this fight in a state of honor? The Icebreaker clan I was born to is a filthy group... but they know what 'honor' is." She pulled her fists up, glaring up to John, "You go first."

[redford]

John’s vision was clearing as she walked toward him, in a nonthreatening manner that still left John feeling threatened. She raised her hands, and John did also.

He briefly thought to try to remove the chunk of ice that was lodged in his forearm, but it was already frozen to the flesh around it. Instead, John used his other hand to force his mangled hand into a fist, using the gauntlet’s moldable properties to connect the fingers to each other, and from there to his palm. Where his muscles had failed him, he would mold the gauntlets to his will instead. It was a temporary solution, but in the citadel’s arenas, even violence such as this was done in relative safety.

The orange light of the forges cast an ominous light on both their sets of gauntlets as their wearers circled each other slowly. Ayleth bounced, itching for a chance to strike or dodge, while John stayed flat-footed, rooted to each patch of concrete he placed his foot on. The rumbling of the machinery around them seemed to increase in volume and tempo as John breathed deeply, adopting a style he had learned from brawlers and boxers in the taverns of Knife’s Edge, putting up his right hand close to his chest, while his left was farther out and could be used to fend off attacks. He knew he couldn’t match her speed, but maybe he could meet her halfway if he knew where she was going.

The style was designed for boxing, and relied on a predictable dodge from the opponent. Perhaps she relied on her speed a little too much.

The entire arena went quiet as he moved, no longer thinking about anything other than the next punch or kick. He took a half step forward and swung wide with his right fist. She ducked under it, and as she did, John brought a knee up, hoping to catch her off guard.

[Ashla]

Once again, she was hit in the chest. This being the second time in a row, it caused more pain than the first. Ayleth was knocked back, but the swift girl caught herself in time to stand. As the young woman felt the pain in her settle; her eye flashed back to ice and back for a moment. Icebreaker stalked right back up to John, this time pulling her speed up a notch. The footsteps of the girl was the sound in the room. She clenched her fists, causing the claws to extend fully. Ayleth had plenty of energy to spare, it was her worry causing her to sweat.

Ayleth rarely unleashed her top speed in combat. She usually only picked up her speed for a hasty dodge or to enhance her agility. Now though, she daring to use her swiftness in another way. She first aimed a kick, normal in speed, at her opponent. John perfectly blocked. Ayleth pulled her leg down, then started to use quicker punches, aimed at overwhelming John's defenses.

The Icebreaker was, as always, light on her feet. She refused to acknowledge the pain still ringing from the crash into a heap of junk: a sign of weakness. She swiftly sent her multiple punches and flat handed blows at John. Multiple fights from the past crossed her mind. Her matches with Zack Blaze, who let her burn alive in her sleep. Lye... that terror of a man was unattainable. She still had been no match for him, no matter how strong she grew. How many times has Ashla lost in a fight like this? For Ayleth, this wouldn't just be her last stand.

It would be her first victory.

No, there was a difference between Ashla and Ayleth. Ashla was a frightened girl. She had been weighed down, tossed aside, abandoned by even her kin. Ashla took the pain, and she was scared. Ayleth though, she did not give into fear. Inside of giving into it, she fee off it. Ayleth took the hurt and turned it into resentment. She took the resentment and made it her strength. Every blow, hit or miss, was a beacon of who Ashla was... and who Ayleth wished to be.

[redford]

The strikes came furiously, everywhere at once they were so fast. The strikes were angry, placed wherever was fastest, be that at him or not. She was furious to the point of fault, and John shifted his stance to one taught him in the north.

See the pattern in the chaos, and counter only the pattern you see.

John took steps back as she stepped forward, striking angrily at him. He tried to only block the strikes that would find their mark, but his defense would not hold forever.

There. For an instant the pattern of her chaotic anger revealed itself.

John managed to close his left hand on one of her strikes, and brought his other forearm up, pinning her fist where it was. He heard a bone break as he brought his arm up. There was no time to wait for a response as he swung a leg out, catching the instinctual strike with the other arm as she fell. He fell with her, and pulled her wrist under his right armpit, using his torso as leverage against the already fully extended elbow. He brought both legs up and crossed them over her neck, squeezing lightly.

“Yield," He said.

[Ashla]

Ayleth growled. She was in a tight predicament alright. However, she'd been in tight spots before, and she despised the idea of surrender.

"Never..."

Despite her dark determination, Ayleth could not shake the pain from her voice. Her arm was easily broken. It hurt. Badly. "Hurt" was a light word. She grimaced, attempting not to let out any cries of pain. That would just be a sign of weakness. Ayleth could not think under this pressure, it was so hard when her arm was screaming for relieve.

Ayleth's blues and brown eyes rolled towards the iron isle where she threw her remaining ice shards. She was too far to control the ice, but...

She flexed the fingers of her good arm. A crooked smile coming across her. Did John know what he had done to her? Well, he would receive a lot more in return... Ayleth had the ability to freeze not just water, but many liquids. Apple cider, orange juice, venom, blood... Yes, Icebreaker concluded, I can.

Ayleth concentrated, closing her eyes and aiming. Crystallization was an ability she rarely played with. Could she actually freeze another person's blood? She would start small, as she did every time. She honestly didn't know if it could work. It was worth her best effort thought. She waited and hoped, hoped she could cause John's liquid blood to steadily stop cold.

[redford]

“Never…”

The word came out quickly, born of determination and hatred, but wavered slightly, born also of pain. He increased the pressure of his calves on her neck, maintaining his grip on her arm. Her eyes rolled frantically around the arena, searching for something, anything to aid her. John knew that desperation, knew is was terrifying; but that was the price of never giving up.

She looked back at him, her face turning red, and smiled. This is not good, John thought as he felt a chill move up his arm. His mind raced as the chill grew more intense, spreading across his shoulder.

An idea came.

He shifted Ayleth’s arm to his other side and raised an elbow, bringing it down on her temple.

Her head snapped to the side, and as it rolled back, John struck again. He struck a third time, and he felt her arm relax, and the chill begin to fade.

John rolled over to the side of his unconscious opponent, the aches and pains of the fight finally taking their toll. Thankfully, he wouldn’t be bleeding out any time soon, all his wounds had been frozen over. He looked at his raised forearm. He could not see it, but there was a piece of ice the size of a hammer handle inside of it. Odd though, he felt no pain. The ice must have frozen his nerves.

Two monks appeared, quickly picking up Ayleth, carrying her off to the healing rooms, while a third approached John himself. He offered a hand.

“Can you walk?”

John accepted the help up, limping alongside the monk as they both followed the others.

[redford]

John lifted a leg and slid on the cot in a small room where the fighters of the citadel were healed. Naturally, the Ai'Bron monks in this section of the citadel were more skilled in healing than they were in combat, but there were guards posted lest any lingering grudges flare to life. A small, old man approached him as he sat, placing a hand in the middle of his chest. He closed his eyes for a moment, concentrating on the injuries John had received. It was one of the more overt but secret skills of Ai'Bron. Wordlessly, the monk placed a hand at each of his injuries, and they were suddenly no more. He pulled a hand away, looking at his forearm. He frowned a bit, as if looking at an incomplete puzzle, before lifting his arm, poising his own over it. He began to mumble, and as he did, John saw tiny specks of black and blue emerge from his arm, collecting above the monk's outstretched hand. The sensation was strange to say the least, and John had trouble maintaining a straight face as the black, sandy particles took the shape of the broken spear that was in his arm moments before. Gradually, less of the specks emerged until the monk had finished, grabbing the ice spear and tossing it into a bucket, seemingly with no ill effects. He placed a hand on John's forearm, and he could feel his own damaged flesh knit back together to become whole.

The monk sighed wearily as he looked up at John and smiled. The smile was practiced, but it was genuine, and he returned to a small pillow in the room, sitting cross-legged and closing his eyes. John looked down at his left gauntlet, attached to a once-mangled hand and forearm, and wondered just what other things could sunder the gauntlets. For all this time, he thought they were indestructible, but now he doubted. Though, they still formed claws and other shapes as needed. He exited the room, turning down a long hallway.

He glanced into the rooms. Most were empty, but each one held one of Ai'Bron's mystic physicians anyway. He passed an open door, this one with his opponent, Ayleth in it. Two monks stood over her, one at her head, the other holding her arm. He stopped briefly and looked down at his gauntlets again. She fought well, and certainly had the chance to defeat him at least once during the match, but chose not to. He set his jaw, and strode toward the doorway, nearly crossing it before a large arm barred it, grabbing the side. He looked to the side and saw a familiar face.

"Brother Jor," He said flatly.

The bald man had no weapons, and only wore the robes of his order, but John knew he was not getting through that door, not if Jor didn't want him to. Jor was one of the more...relaxed...members of the order of Ai'Bron, sometimes even venturing beyond the citadel for a drink at a tavern every now and then.

"John, you know I can't let you in there," he said, holding his arm where it was. "I can't have you tearing up the healing rooms."

John looked down at the man. "Does it look like I'm going to fight her in there?"

Jor smiled. "No, course you don't generally change that look on your face at all, now do you?"

"I want to tell her that she fought well."

The older, shorter man sighed long, eventually releasing his hold on the doorway. "Alright, but if you so much as think about hurting her, I'll-"

"I know," John said, interrupting. Jor was a kind fellow, but he did not allow his trust to be betrayed lightly, and John had no intention of trying to fight the man.

He strode into the small room, and sat at one of the chairs, waiting for her to regain consciousness.

[Ashla]

"A sword?"

A young girl, tis fourteen, drew a bright, steel weapon from a fanciful hilt. The blade glistened, even reflecting her light blue blouse. Innocent blue eyes widened as her second hand clasped the hilt. She felt a hand rustle her black hair, which reached just below her shoulder. The child lifted her hand again, pulling the hand off, "Uncle! ..."

A brown haired man, dressed in a humble green shirt and brown pants, chuckled. "I'll teach you some basics, Ashla. Then I'll introduce you to my smaller long knife."

The man gently put a hand on her shoulder, "I had this sword specially enchanted to be lightweight for you. If you can't excel at baking I guess you'll be better with a sword."

The wide eyed Ashla had not taken her eyes off the weapon, she tilted it to the side then back again...

The reflection had changed.

A pale face was barely visible through the thick, black blood on it. The girl lowered the sword to see two orc mercenaries glaring at her like she was dead meat. Trembling, the girl pulled the longsword into a defensive posture. She took her now deceased uncle's training into practice. She raced towards the first orc, raising her blade, "You'll pay for that!"


The memories faded out to white as the the young woman flickered back into consciousness. Those events had taken place five years ago. Oh, how that innocent girl had fallen since...

Ashla Icebreaker, who now went by the name Ayleth, finally opened her eyes. For a moment, rays of light caused her to shut her eyes again. She slowly opened them again though, adjusting to the light.

The young woman stared up at a bland, grey ceiling. She realized that she was in a healing room. It puzzled her for a moment, then she remembered the last, painful moments before she had been knocked out cold in a Citadel match.

She had lost again.

She flexed the fingers of her previously broken arm. Everything was brand new. Ayleth though, could feel no joy. She had lost the match. She felt herself tear up. Why? She had tried so hard all this time, but where did it lead her? Broken again.

The Icebreaker shook her head, desperately yearning to escape the prison of emotions she felt. She realized in those moments though that she was being watched. She turned her head to the right of her bed to see... the very person who just creamed her.

Her eyes widened for a moment, then she sighed. "What do you want?

[redford]

This post co-authored by myself and ghosty.
I realize the entire time I was fighting above my level, that was accepted as to make the fight more interesting, as well as for some character stuff that Ashla wanted to do.
We did some bunnying. It's okay it was all consentual.

“What do you want?”

John was snapped out of his thoughts by the snide remark directed at him. He looked over at the girl, her dichromatic eyes a bit wet with as yet unshed tears. She looked at him with a vindictive sort of hate, but not entirely directed at him. She was angry, more at the world than anything else, and it showed on her face. Nevertheless, she fought well.

“You fought well,” he said plainly.

She looked at the ceiling above the bed, and John leaned to one side of the chair. She opened her mouth, seemingly trying to find words where none could express how she felt.

“I lost,” She said eventually, with a sort of finality that implies failures to come.

John would have smiled, but stubbornness and the sober atmosphere held his lips in a line. She was correct, she did lose. But, John figured out a long time ago, there were two kinds of losses. Those that break, and those that forge. Her anger and despair seemed birthed from an ignorance of that.

“Every match has a loss. Half of everyone who walks into the citadel loses. Can it not be so for you as well?”

"Believe me, I know what it's like to lose in here! I've come here how many times and I came out the weaker one... I thought this time I..." Her words trailed off as as she grasped for a reason to be angry at the world. John remembered a time not too long ago where he was the same, he was weary of the life that was handed to him. She sought a reprieve from the brutality of Althanas, knowing that none would come save to the rich or famous.

“This time what? You wanted a heroic victory?” He was being stern, almost harsh with the child, but it was the only way John learned. “No one will hand you an easy life, Ayleth. It is up to you to fight for more than you have, because no one is going to give it to you.” He held up his gauntleted hands, turning them for her to see.

“I put these on, and now they will not come off. I cannot swing a sword or shoot a bow, much less handle more complex weapons. So, I fought. I trained,” he said, causing claws to grow on the fingers, two inches long. “I mastered my inability. Master your shortcomings like I have.”

“You can’t understand what I’ve gone through!” Her voice was raised and faltering as she tried desperately to cling to the safety that was her hatred for the outside world. A tear, once contained, spilled down her cheek.

“I understand that you think you deserve recompense.” He leaned forward in the chair. “But this I know. The world is not fair, and it will not repay the wrong done to you unless you take it yourself,” His words were slow and forceful, filled to the brim with John’s own experiences.

This time she sat up, fisting her hands in the blanket that had covered her. “What do you think I’ve been doing? Daintily sipping tea? I’ve tried making a difference out here!”

John’s gaze hardened. He stood from his chair. “Do what seems best to you, I cannot make you believe in yourself. The hammer strikes upon us all; whether that is to forge or destroy is your choice, and your choice alone.” He turned to leave. “I will return here in two month’s time. Show me then that your determination does not waver.”

He reached the doorway, seeing Jor there, patiently waiting. He sighed, meeting Jor’s gaze, and turned his head to the side. “Still, you fought well.” Without another word, he left the citadel.

[Ashla]

As the young man, simply named John, left the room, Ayleth scowled. She threw herself back onto the bed, an arm on her forehead. She looked up at the ceiling, rustled up and distressed. How could he? How could he judge her when he had no idea what she went through? A family that treated her like dirt, growing up an orphan with an uncle that lied to her, her own country destroyed in a single war, the love of her life brutally murdered...

She tried. She tried her absolute best to grow above them, to grow stronger than her shattered life. But even now, Ashla could not hide behind some made up name. She was still the weakling she thought she left behind. She gripped the sheets, her blue eye turning to ice again. How could she combat this? How could she rematch John when the time came?

All Icebreaker knew was... she needed more power. How could she find it though? Where would she get it? How could she collect the strength to stop the whole world? She sat up on her bed, throwing her legs down the side of the bed. She buried her head in her face, Need... more...

Power.

She had no idea how, but she had to get it. It was the only way she could achieve everything she fought so hard for.


Like Red said, all bunnies and stuff throughout this thread is all approved. This thread is done and ready to be judged!

[Rayleigh]

Thread Name: Fallen
Participants: BlueGhostofSeaside & redford
Judgment Type: Full Rubric

Plot 18/17

Story 8/6

Overall, this was a nice fight. It read fairly easily, and had a very nice ending. I could tell right away how important this peice was for Ayleth's development. One of the biggest things that I was looking for here was an explicit reason for your character's participation in the fight.

Ayleth, I feel, had an excellent reason for entering the Citadel. She felt that she was a changed woman, and that she had to prove herself not only to those around her, but to herself. Entering a battle arena where she had been previouly unsuccessful would be an excellent way to demonstrate her rebirth. You made this motivation incredibly clear in post one, and you continued it through-out the entire story, refering back to it constantly. I absolutely love seeing that driving force behind everything your character does, and it demonstrates a well-thought out character, and a well-written piece. The one thing that I would have loved to have seen a bit more of was flashbacks to old Citadel battles. You refer to them a few times, but some powerful memories could have really driven the "becoming a new woman" theme home. In general, however, very nicely done here, BG.

John, on the other hand, left me wondering. I ended up re-reading the his first couple of posts, mostly because I thought I had missed his explanation. While I understand that the Citadel is generally viewed as a sort of "hit it and quit it" opportunity, I was left unsatisfied by his presence there. I enjoy a bit of mystery just as much as the next girl, but some sort of hint as to his intentions would have really helped me navigate his story. Where Ayleth's first post was rich with personal touches, I felt yours was a bit detached. You did an excellent job of interacting with the setting, but I was too busy wondering "who is this guy? Why is he here? What does he want?" I am entirely unfamiliar with John, and many of your readers may be as well. Even in a Citadel battle, I find it important to give some insight into who your character is. Even a few lines about how John wanted to try out a new weapon, or prove himself in battle, would have sufficed.

Setting 5/6

Since you were the first to post, BG, Ayleth's actions really established the setting. I thought that it was a very interesting choice; why place an ice-focused character in a hot foundry? But your introduction had just the perfect amount of flair. I loved how the fallen scarf brought the arena to life. It was a very cool touch. I also liked how you had your character actively interact with the setting, rather than just observe it. It is one thing to say "the ground was concrete" in your first post, but it is another to describe your character stomping her foot on it. The action shows us - it does not tell us. I would love to see even more of that from you! Beyond your first post, there were only a couple of times that your interactions with the setting really stood out to me. I especially loved a particular line in post three: " The rusted bolts seemed to stir in anticipation, the chunks of ore simmering as if being smelted down at the moment." That was a fantastic! I would have loved to have seen more through the rest of the story. You started off so strong! That's certainly a common problem for many writers - after a while, setting falls away so you can focus on the "good stuff," like action and dialogue. Just remember, setting really helps us place your character in the story. I want to be right there with Ayleth for the whole thing!

Red, you received a slightly higher score here, because I felt that you interacted with the setting just a bit more than BG did. You did a nice job of thinking to throw a piece of scrap metal in post four, as that demonstrated not only what the setting was, but how your character existed within it. I also noted your use of the debris pile in post six, and the orange light in post twelve, as excellent examples of setting done right. You also did a nice job fitting into BG's setting. It can be tough sometimes, when the first poster calls the shots on what things look like, but you did a nice job staying consistant. For a higher score, I would encourage you to also follow the advice I gave BG above. While you had some brief uses of setting, weaving it into your entire story would have helped me picture it better.

Pacing 5/5

My comments on pacing are pretty general, so I am going to address both of you here. The first part of your story struggled a bit. I felt like every post had someone throwing something new, or dodging something else. It was very fast-paced, but without enough description and response from your characters, that becomes a bit list-like (something I'll address further later in this judgement). Around post ten or so, things improved dramatically. I really do think that pacing during hand-to-hand combat is much easier than ranged attacks. I would encourage you both to apply some of the extra thought and time that I saw in your second half of your piece to your first. On the second page, I saw your characters really thinking their moves through in a way they did not on the first. There was some dialogue. There was desperation. There was anger. Those extra elements not only strengthened the overall story, but helped the flow of what I read as well. It was not "Ayleth threw this, John dodged that, Ayleth threw this, etc." I wonder if the second half of your story was also more collaborative? Extra communication between writers on pieces like this can really help pacing, even for posts that you are not co-writing.

Character 18/15

Communication 7/6

Again, my comments apply to both of you. Honestly, I was disappointed by the lack of communication during the actual battle. What you did have was alright, and true to character: John was very short (he's a man of few words, I've learned), and Ayleth was some delightful mixture of angry, passionate, and ruthless. But I wanted more! I am giving BG a slightly higher score here because I thought her jabs at John really carried the ony dialogue there was, especially in post seven. Now, the reason why your score is still relatively high is because I absolutely loved the communication in the final couple of posts. I know that you co-wrote it, which is probably why it flowed so well, but it was truly beautiful. So rich, so raw, and I finally learned a bit about the mysterious John. There was a gritty realism in the way that your two characters interacted that I had been craving for the whole story! You are both getting extra points for that, and I encourage you both to consider incorporating that level of discussion into more of your story. I certainly don't expect that amount of dialogue in the middle of a battle, as this is the Citadel afterall. But a few more remarks through-out would have been perfect.

Action 5/5

First and foremost, I want to commend both of you on allowing your characters to take hits. So many writers are afraid to let their characters suffer, or appear weak. Both of you did an excellent job of this, and I applaud you both for it. My biggest concern for this section was how list-like your actions were in the first part of the story. I mentioned this above, but it also dealt a blow to your Action score. A bit more reaction from your characters, be it internal monlogue, experienced emotions, or even extra actions would have really helped here.

BG, I think that you struggled a bit with this, especially your first few posts. I was so excited when Ayleth finally broke out and demanded if John knew who she was. That's the sort of reaction that I hoped to see out of her! Rather than "she threw up a wall of ice, she stepped around it," I was able to see more of that rich, wonderful motivation that drives Ayleth. You really improved after that point, so well done!

Red, I think that the list-like posts were less of a problem for you. You did a nice job of describing your actions with a bit more description, adding more actions than just "dodge this, throw that." I did, however, dock possible points for a concern I had in post eight. In the past you had done an excellent job of demonstrating the effects of Ayleth's magic on John's body (for example, the shards in post six). Then, in post eight, and the post that followed, I was disappointed by how John reacted to the poisoned spear. His visioned blurred, but he had a moment of intense clarity? Perhaps it was the adrenaline, but does that really negate the effects of the poison? And he was still able to run at her, aim an attack at her, and land it. Looking over his profile, I see that he has extra strength. but is he really strong enough to all but ignore a powerful magic attack from someone five levels above him? I would have liked to have seen a bit more response to that spear.

Persona 6/4

In general, my favorite thing about this entire piece was the ending. I know I gushed over it above, but I wanted to take another opportunity to say just how much I learned about both of your characters from it.

BG, I thought that this, along with Story, was one of your strongest catagories. I absolutely loved the Ashla vs. Ayleth theme. It was solid, and it was constant. Well done. I also really loved the flashback in post eighteen. I think it really helped humanize Ayleth, and remind me of just how young and fragile she really is. It was great timing, and excellent placement. My biggest critique for you here is making sure that Ayleth's wild emotions come with some sort of explanation. Rayleigh is a wild character too, so I know how difficult this can be! But in post five, Ayleth was frowning, and then she was impressed by John's speed, and then she felt confident, and then she sighed (was she apathetic)? It was a lot of emotions in a short span of time. While she very well could feel all of them, make sure you explain in detail to your reader WHY. It helps make her more relatable, and more real.

Red, I think that this was your weakest category. Even after reading over the entire thread multiple times, I never once felt myself rooting for John. I attribute that entirely to the fact that I don't feel I know him. He's the strong, silent type, and he likes to punch things. But WHY? What makes him that way? Being silent does not mean that he lacks depth. I know better than to assume John is just a pair of muscles. What motivates him? What drives him? Why should I, as the reader, care about him?

Prose 12/15

Mechanics 4/4

Across the board, I think that there were a lot of simple mistakes here. I won't spend too much time on them, because I think that you're both good enough writers to know better. Red, there was a capitalization issue in post four, and a punctuation issue in post ten. BG, you mixed up "women" and "woman" in post five, which could be a typo or just word choice issue. And Red, it looks like your post was cut-off entirely in post eight? That could easily be a copy/paste error (I've done it myself), but it demonstrates to me that you didn't proof-read close enough. My advice to both of you is to proof-read! Even the best writers still need to do it.

Clarity 4/6

For the most part, there were no glaring clarity issues here. There were a few instances where I had to re-read, especially in the first few posts, only because the list-like actions made pacing a bit choppy. I would read something, but with no added context, I would forget about it immediately. Don't just tell me "Ayleth did this" or "John did that." If you SHOW me them doing that, I'll remember it!

BG, the reason your score is a bit lower here stems entirely from your "man in a half" sword. I'm not at all docking you for how the weapon appeared in your journal (I'm glad we were able to sort that out), but because of how you referred to it. I believe the correct term here is "hand and a half," which Red did use in post six. It's a small thing, but it caused me to re-read, resort to google, ask a friend, and question my own sanity, because I really wanted to know what type of sword that was. In the future, I would encourage you to double check things like that, as your sword type is an important detail!

Technique 4/5

In general, I did not see the use of too many techniques. Things like rich description, metaphors, simalies, foreshadowing, and personification can really add a special zest to your writing. Red, I did really enjoy your work in post seventeen - I only wish you had woven more of that description into the rest of your work. My challenge to both of you is to strive to incorporate more of these elements into the next thing you write. No need to overdo it - a bit here and there, used effectively, makes all the difference.

Wildcard 7/7
I really enjoyed this story, especially the ending. I think that in those final posts, you both demonstrated what you're capable of. Please apply the same level of time and thought into everything you do, because I'm sure the final product will blow everyone away. Because you co-wrote it, I struggled to give individual props for various things. Instead, just accept this wildcard score!

Total 55/54

BlueGhostofSeaside receives 1750 EXP and 110 GP!
Redford receives 525 EXP and 55 GP!

Congratulations to both of you!