A Short Story With a Long Title

[Slayer of the Rot]

A cold blue moon stared down from the cloudless black sky, down at cold and lonely rickety six building town in the middle of dusty old nowhere. A town where no law or god walked at all, where the bullet made the rules and the only commandment was "Thou Shalt not Rest". It was here that one man who lived his life in the same fashion walked restlessly, kicking up dust with every footfall, the brass bullets winking in the sterile blue light rattled merrily, muttered words that would make any nun blush flitting past lips that held a cigarette, bobbing as he fumed.

Some fought for money. To hear that tinny jingle as the coins fell into their wallet was their sole driving force, to see that beautiful gold luster glowing up from their palms. In Dan's mind, they were greedy sons'abitches that were barely even worth pulling a trigger.

There were others who fought for power. For the strength to protect the ones they loved. They'd often sworn an oath, maybe made a blood oath. But the enforcer didn't need anymore power, at least not yet, there were very few he could think of that could manage to defeat him.

For Dan, the drawing power of the Citadel was the fight itself. The feel, the lust for battle. He couldn't get enough, no matter how many he struck down. It was simply the triumphant feeling of trumping someone on a one on one level, the swell of pride that brought that dark smile to his face. He was no butcher though, he was not one of the men whose heart had been stolen by the sight and color of blood. No, deep down, in the crannies of his subconsciousness, he wanted to find a match, one worthy of a fight...but he was finding none.

He was getting impatient now. He hated to wait, something made evident in both the Bazaar War and The Cell, when he had started the bloodshed with Rotslayer and an AK-47, respectively. Hell, he was a man whose fists could tear asunder nearly any man's weapons, armor, or body under the Althanian Sun; he didn't have to have patience. He groaned irritably as he sat down on the porch of the saloon, the old, dry wood creaking beneath him as he shifted his weight to a comfortable sitting position and blew smoke out of his nose, a great gray plume that dissipated into faint, vague ribbons.

The air was still, but cold, probably somewhere around mid-twenties, fahrenheit, if Althanas went by such a scale. His leather jacket, lined with sheepskin, was zipped up to his neck, and his shoulder, where his arm had been amputated with raging, hungry flames, ached hollowly. Flicking his cigarette aside, he drew his pistol, lazily and aimlessly spinning it around his finger, scraping quietly iron against titanium, leaning back on his free hand.

How much god damned longer would he wait in this cold, forsaken place, formed by Ai'brone's magic, in the lost country of nowhere?

((Forward Note: This is an old battle we found that went unfortunately unjudged due to the crash or move or whatever it was we had...both characters are different since this point, and right fully so. Likewise, he had different possessions and powers at the time - all mine can be found in this cached thread (http://64.233.161.104/search?q=cache:aRy5HzjkgyYJ:www.althanas.com/world/archive/index.php/t-10749.html+althanas+kattosu&hl=en&gl=us&ct=clnk&cd=1).))

[Lavinian Pride]

And came she did, moving through the entrance swiftly ready for battle. Her dagger belt tilted slightly on her hips going just over the waistband of her tight fitting shorts, her sports top hugging the curvature of her body as she entered. Moving up to a monk she spoke quickly, "I'd like to do a fight quickly..."

"Quickly? As in a fast battle?" The monk asked.

She clucked her tongue as she walked past, "No, as in I want to have a fight now, quickly..." The monk nodded as he began to lead her. She moved without emotion through the halls of the Citadel. Finally she reached a closed door.

"Here is your battle, good luck miss..." He left it hanging as she opened the door and walked in without a word. Immediately the first sensation to assault her was the cold that pervaded the arena. Feeling the goosebumps cross her skin she smirked as she entered the arena, the smirk left her face as she saw Dan in the middle of the arena. She wasn't anywhere close to being able to topple the ape of a man, and if he had grown stronger like she had thought was inevitably true, she was in danger.

She had made a bet with someone, if she won the fight, she would receive her tab free, however, with Dan as her opponent it seemed unlikely that she would even survive the night let alone having to pay such a tab. As she walked she reached up and tied her loose hair into a ponytail with a thong of leather. Looking at the man she finally spoke, "Well, looks like this wont be as easy as I thought. How are you Dan?"

Dan was one of the few who could possibly know what she truly was, and as it stood that was a bad thing. Still, hoping for a friendly bout she waited for him to reply as she waited. Stretching her body to keep her blood flowing in the cold atmosphere she watched her breath create a fog in front of her, it was a good environment for a workout, and she knew by the end of this, as cold as she was, she'd be just as hot if everything was how it would normally go.

[Slayer of the Rot]

A sudden smell came to the air, wafting down from the north of the town, somehow coming to him on the dead, frigid air. It was a familiar smell, one that he'd caught many times in the living city Sanctuary, faint or fresh, fading away sometimes in the tavern just as he came in, the smell of cigarettes and vague aftershave subduing it before he could get a good whiff. The scent managed this time, however to fight down the already departing smell of burnt tobacco, and filled his scarred nose quickly. It was a scent that would inflame a lesser man's libido, perhaps, to start him drooling at the tart treat that was approaching.

Dan simply closed his eyes, halting the revolver perfectly with his finger solidly on the trigger, drawing back the hammer and swinging his arm out to the side, aiming it's black, unfeeling muzzle, cold as the rest of the arena, right between Sarah Dahlios' eyes.

Even with his eyes closed, he could tell it was her; his enhanced senses could sense the circulating magic that linked her with her, arguably lesser half, thief extraordinaire and hex mage, Seth Dahlios. He'd been around during the time the thief had been injected with a strange, unidentified potion none of Sanctuary's alchemist's could identify. He was close enough "friends" with the man to know well enough what Sarah really was, but in most cases, he kept his trap shut. No sense in inflaming egos yet, she was greeting him with a surprising friendly tone, something he didn't often get in the Citadel or Theater.

"I've been better..." he replied, amused at how this was all beginning. He'd come here for a simple fight between just another face, what he'd gott en was the Lavinian Vixen. He was of course, slightly referring to his new titanium prosthetic, which he revealed as he stood and holstered his pistol, quickly unzipping his jacket and tossing it off to the side. The nuetral blue moon glinted off it's surface, the metal surprisingly warm to the touch. He flexed his faux fingers, and smiled just a little, a precursor of things to come.

"Cold in here for you? I don't really feel it...then again, I'm not really what I was long ago." His smile broke into a grin of unreadable intentions, revealing teeth too long and too sharp to be human anymore. "Do me a favor Dahlios..." He tugged his cowboy hat down over his eyes, and dropped down slowly into the offensive stance of Matras Eres, his body still, yet ready for the heat of battle to drive away the bitter nipping cold. "Show me if I should even call Rotslayer to do you in, dear."

[Lavinian Pride]

Sarah's calm demeanor changed as she watched Dan begin his actions. Not even flinching when Dan pointed the gun at her she waited for him to start a huge speech, yet none came. This Dan seemed more reserved, but belied much anger, it would take a bit to get it out of him, but she might be able to get him to undo himself. As she waited she let a soft grin cross her face as she spoke, "Still the same old Dan, bigger mouth than his dick, and probably too drunk to realize he's in more trouble than he'd expect..."

Recalling the fight between Seth and Dan she smirked as she drew a thorn carefully continuing her abatement of her fellow Brotherhood member, "Afraid of breaking a sweat Dan? I would think you of all people would know better than to cross a Lavinian. After all it could be dangerous for your health..."

She then threw the thorn right at Dan's face as she began a sprint following behind it. Hands on the girl's pommels she quickly pulled them both for an outward slash across the arrogant man's Chest, he wasn't wearing the duster that had deflected a lung popper, so she had to theorize he wasn't wearing armor anymore, or at leats that was the hope. Just incase she was already trying to get a leap backward to get out of Dan's reach, which was not very large without the rot slayer to play interdiction with.

She was determined now to make him go for the rot slayer, to curse at himself for not drawing it, that would be her victory, even if she lost, and had to pay the bar tab, she would take solace in knowing she had caused Dan to panic. That would be the moral of the story, even when you think you know Sarah Dahlios, she wasn't easy to pin.

[Slayer of the Rot]

Sarah was right when she'd assumed that Dan had grown in ability since last she'd saw him in combat, he'd greatly enlarged his battle prowess, and it showed as inhuman reflexes caused his metal hand to spring up, the throwing dagger bouncing harmlessly into his forearm, then swinging out striking the daggers, knocking them easily off their path. Truth be told, had he wished to, he could have easily shattered them, but he didn't feel quite like disarming the women yet. He wanted to see if she could manage to give him the match he was so desperately looking for, like a child alone, seeking it's long lost parents.

"Feh, I should expect such a mouth, considering the lump of **** you're tethered to!" He lunged forward, that shocking speed of his making itself known again, closing that gap Sarah tried desperately to put in between them. His fist struck out, his strength restrained to great effect, aiming at her stomach. Even though he was pulling his punches for now, it'd be enough to certainly knock the air out of her if it came in contact.

"But talk is useless. I don't know what they teach you in that useless division you take part in, but words are nothing to a fighter. You might as well be slinging your venom soaked words at a stone!" Now he attacked, his hand falling to his thigh and pulling his combat knife in a smooth motion, spinning the knife deftly around his index finger as the blade flew out towards her heart, stabbing out, then drawing back swiftly, slashing at her graceful throat. He pulled back, though refusing to step back, falling into another offensive stance of his style, his unarmed, titanium hand held forward, fingers splayed out, the knife held back behind it in reverse grip.

"You're not convincing me, dear." His fanged grin floated beneath the blue tinted yellow brim of the straw hat on his head, hiding his eyes, but letting that confident, horrible smile to be seen by all. "Come on then, cut me, let's if you got the balls, you homeless soul."

[Lavinian Pride]

As Soon as the blows were deflected she knew she was in for a tough ride. As she tried hard to keep up with the Slayer he went on the offensive trying to punch as she moved dancing gracefully. As his punch was Sidestepped she twirled the daggers planning on landing a powerful backstab into the man as he tried to pierce her heart with his daggers. She was trying to sheath them in his back to form a torrent of blood to show him what it meant to cross her.

However when he had moved forward she had miscalculated and missed her mark, only managing to hit the air. Deciding a kick to his complacency would have to do, she began to spin trying to add momentum as she lashed out with a kick to send him off balance, knowing better than to assume she could hurt Dan with anything other than a dagger. She was out to prove a point and this would go well on the way. As she finished the kick she danced back a couple of feet giving herself breathing room as she panted feeling the sweat already.

Then he called her a Homeless Soul.

Another two thorns were drawn in anger as she threw them diagonally from each other as she spat venomously, "I have more balls than you ever will half-breed." If he was going to throw insults she would throw them back, using his past against him, she had heard the rumors, heard the stories of his demonic heritage. No there was no escaping the stinging blow of her words as she dropped into a defensive stance of Lavinian Dagger Fighting, as taught by Darith Shagath. She knew retaliation would come swiftly, and she would relish in pissing the oaf off.

[Slayer of the Rot]

((Note: Bunny Approved))

The grin faltered for just a second, then sank into an unreadable, thin straight line, cold and emotionless as the moon above. Everything was tinged in blue, despite the black, inky shadows cloaking the insides of the building, causing the windows to appear like they were painted over. The blue tinge could have fooled an onlooker into believing that the two were frozen in a merciless frost, the blood ice in their veins. One of them at least, felt that way; the man whose eyes were hidden by a cowboy hat, who simply stood still as the thorns struck him, barely reacting as his vlince shirt slowed them like kevlar to bullets, causing the daggers to sink into his skin only an inch. they stopped suddenly, as though striking wood. He had gained so much strength, that his muscles, strengthening and thickening each time he'd fought or worked out, had developed the same strength as your average sheet of steel. With a simple shake, the daggers dropped from his flesh with drops of blood, clattering to the dead, dry ground, the earth thirstily absorbing the blood.

"So it is true. I was curious when you and Seth appeared before me in Sanctuary seperately, but I was operating only an a hunch and hearsay. "He smiled a bit, but the expression was solely humorless. "How does it feel to be a lonely soul in borrowed flesh? I'd have never expected it to be true, but hell, the impossible can happen. Hell, you're nothing more than...than a scarecrow bestowed life." Twirling the knife once, he sheathed it again, his smirk vanishing as quickly as it came. "You came for a fight, fine. I'll stop toying around."

His words were true, though a peircing whistle failed to peirce the air. No, Sarah Dahlios wasn't yet worthy of Rotslayer, and maybe never would be. Her little counterpart, Seth was, but she had many steps to take before she was ready at all. Silently, he leapt forward, crouching as he sailed towards, his fist above his head, muscles tense.

"Erupting Fist!"

His knuckles slammed into the hardpacked earth, driving his hand deep down, and the ground instantly groaned and bucked wildly, great cracks radiating out from his body. A briliant, white blast of energy flowed out from him, roiling like a shock wave, throwing Sarah helplessly off her feet before she could scream, gashes splitting her flesh and giving this algid town it's first rain in perhaps centuries. She flew helplessly through the air, limbs flopping like a ragdoll as she spun, carrening to the ground. She landed with a painful thud, which maybe would have been heartbreaking if the enforcer cared.

"And is this what Dan Lagh'ratham does for fun? Kill women?" A man stood atop one of the building behind Dan, his dark coat blending in well with the sky, hands thrust in his pockets, a hat drawn down over his head. A pair of small, square-lensed glasses, shining brightly with the reflecting light of the moon peeked out from the gap between brim and high, static collar. The enforcer somehow failed to detect any trace of him, so the man watch quietly, speaking to himself in a voice so low that even Dan couldn't hear it. "How odd this...primitive behavior is. Humans do this all the time? Still, it is nothing less to be expected from the 'Child of Calamity'..."

"Feh, you weren't even worth getting out of bed for this morning!" Dan drew his revolver again, flicking open the chamber and checking to see if it was fully loaded. He took his time, walking towards the acid tongued bitch, snapping the gun back in place and pulling back the hammer with his calloused thumb. It wasn't like she was getting back up, now was she? "One between the eyes, and I can go get some coffee down at the Pub."

"Stupider than I predicted!" The man in the coat chuckled to himself, turning away from the sight, descending down the roof. "A woman that stubborn...he should know. Calls himself a warrior!" With that, he vanished without a sound, as mysteriously as he'd appeared.

[Lavinian Pride]

More words were thrown at her, each striking with a cold efficiency as he continued to assault her. It was painful to say the least, for someone to be voicing what she herself thought with each lonely night she couldn’t get drunk enough, or find a partner to share her bed with. As she waited for the strike, what followed was perhaps one of the odder things. Bracing herself for the impact she was lifted off her feet and thrown away as she hit the ground a grunt the only satisfaction she'd give the man.

As she lay on the ground she could vaguely make out his boot steps as the pain washed over her. She closed her eyes to gather strength as she feebly tried to return to her feet, lifting her body up an inch before sinking as the pain eroded her strength. She growled low as she heard the click of the hammer being pulled back. Soon however she realized what she had to do. She was never alone, never truly alone, linked by the emptiness inside them she clawed into the darkness, tried to grip something wholly within the void. The void that had represented Seth within her bore nothing at first, and then she gripped something.

A soft cruel giggle escaped her lips when she realized just what she had gripped. As she felt the pain escape her body, pushed back by a callousness in her nerves she gripped her dagger tightly. Moving in a flash she moved forward with a cruel stab blood pouring from numerous wounds as she moved faster than the pain should have let her. Seth's ability to endure pain, until his convictions left him was a boon, and she would use it to the fullest. She knew not how long she had it, but she would use it none the less.

As she felt the Dagger stab deep into Dan’s flesh she felt a bit of pain as the dagger took a bit of work to stab forward. Her wrist groaned with the effort of pushing in before she had it in to the hilt. As she moved her body pressing firmly against his she hissed in his ear, "Never count a Dahlios out, you might just regret it, Half-breed."

Twisting the knife before she pulled it out she moved to the side of Dan before she giggled once more and said, "What's wrong Half-breed, is mommy moving too fast for you? Maybe you should go get that pitiful excuse for a sword and try to finish me off, before I embarrass you some more..."

[Slayer of the Rot]

"What's this now?" Shocked, his mouth popped open slightly as Sarah srung to her feet, more agile than the pain he'd undoubtedly put her through should allow, catching him completely off guard, succeeding in sinking her dagger deep into him, all the way up to the hilt. At first, he only looked looked down, the pain failing to touch his face, and his hand moved quick, letting the hammer gently fall back into place as he holstered it, his hand moving towards her arm. She was more stubborn than any of the others he'd crushed under his bootheel, and he was frankly surprised that she was even capable of movement. But that would all change as soon as he had a hold of her arm. He squeeze, shatter the bone like it was nothing...but he halted as she drew the dagger out, twisting it as she did so. Most men, lesser men, would have yelled in agony, but the enforcer's threshold for pain was far greater than others. His lips drew back fully from his teeth now, like a wolf snarling, and his eyes but he made no sound as she quickly darted to his side, those tart lips of her's spitting out more hateful abuse.

"Heh heh....I told you so," The man in the coat whispered as he watched the dagger sink into the enforcer's abdomen, taking a long pull of a dusty, old bottle of scotch. "He's like a near sighted bull! Charging ahead and seeing none of the possible results!"

'How cute...' he thought, a dark, cruel grin curling his lips, revealing a bit of those dangerous teeth. 'She thinks she's faster than me!' "Perhaps, to some small extent, I've managed to underestimate you. Frankly, I'm surprised you're standing, much less moving after that. I sense something...that circulating magic bonding you and ****head together expanded. Not that I care." Dan spun qucikly, his hands lashing out, his organic fist arcing out to rap it's knuckles against the side of her skull, enough to give her a moderate concussion, the second, his metal arm, lancing out, palm flat, aiming to strike her chest, between the breast. The blow would fracture a few of her ribs and bruise her sternum.

Each of the strikes would make contact within a second of each other, and the last would be enough to drive her back a few feet.

"Impressive! I can see signs of it now. But how long will it take you to find it?" The man in the coat chuckled quietly to himself, stopping up the bottle again and standing, silently sliding his chair back against the table before once again vanishing into darkness, still thus far undetected by either combatant.

[Lavinian Pride]

As the punch flew at her she gritted her teeth as she tilted her head back in an effort to avoid the swing, as she did so she saw the palm strike and barely managed to get her dragon bone gauntleted hands up in time. As the plan struck them they pushed her arms to her chest but held as he only thrust her back a few feet, making use of the time she reached down and grabbed a thorn to retaliate a grin on her face as she said, "Temper, temper Half-breed, you wouldn't want to piss off your loyal fans with a loss!"

She then began to race to the side of him trying to keep him on his toes as the heat of battle kept her aloft against the cold temperatures. Sure enough like she had predicted she had warmed up nicely, but she needed something to hurt the man, like he had said, she just had nothing in the tank, so she would need something to bruise this giant, the dagger had been a step in the right direction, but something more concrete was needed. A smirk graced her as she saw a wagon and made for it, in an attempt to use it to her advantage. As she nimbly climbed the wagon her eyes scanned it before she found nothing. A sigh escaped her as her foot brushed over a horseshoe, she would have to make this one projectile count, or Dan would probably never get rot slayer out.

Looking him dead in the eye she crouched as she picked up the horseshoe and said boldly, "Hey Half-breed, why don't you stop trying to act suave and get your damn kitchen knife out? You're only prolonging this fight, wouldn't want me to win by tiring you out. I plan on doing that after the fight..." A mischievous sparkle hit her eyes at the overt sexual comment, knowing she might get him to stop thinking again by changing course, steering from the fight and moving to the bedroom. She could only hope the two track mind of men would work to her advantage as she held the horseshoe behind her still crouching in the wagon.

[Slayer of the Rot]

'Where the hell did she get ****in' dragonbone?' Dan pulled back his hand and looked at with a puzzled expression, frowning down at it as he rotated the wrist. It elicited a series of clicks, clicks that shouldn't be there at all. The machinery had been built to remain silent, powered by the bioe lectricity of his own body. It had been quite painful to use for the first few months, but eventually he got used to the limb. 'I didn't expect her to have something unbreakable to my goddamned fists. I put too much force into that blow; I'm going to have to finish this **** quickly so I can do some maintenance on the arm. It'd piss me off if it shorted out, but I'm not really worried about fighting with one hand.'

"Ha ha ha! There he goes again! He almost broke that mechanical arm of his because he didn't measure the consequences ahead! Yes, it's quite plain now, it was hot headed and shortsighted as he is. We haven't made a mistake at all!" He chuckled quietly, the breast of his dark coat heaving. Dan Lagh'ratham was indeed King's Idea Laboratories long sought after target. "I found you! You couldn't remain hidden for long once you destroyed Jaken and his little misfits in business suits! I, Gearheart, have found the 'Lost Fortune'!" But he had no time to gloat any longer, as he suddenly realized that the lovely Sarah Dahlios was making a break for the wagon he'd been standing nearby. Without a sound or word, the man in the coat, Gearheart quickly vanished from sight, though he wasn't sure he'd evaded the Dahlios woman quick enough.

"Half-breed is getting old, eh? At least I've been varying my insults. Can't that brain of yours work up something else, or is the syphilis affecting it again?" Dan's hand dipped down once more to his hip and enclosed around the butt of his gun, unholstering and shutting his eye, taking a dead solid aim at Sarah as she stood again with the horse shoe in aim. The gun clicked hollowly as he pulled back the hammer for the third time, leveling the barrel at her heart. 'Not yet...' The gun tilted to the side a few degrees and fire spit from it's mouth as the deafening roar of a gunshot tore the still air, sending a single lead bullet towards Sarah's left arm.

"You've begun to be an annoyance, but you're not even worth the sword yet. The gun can do it what it will commit overkill for," the enforcer scoffed, pulling back the hammer again with another dull click.

[Lavinian Pride]

Sarah was a thief, and a damn good one in her opinion. However, as lithe and agile her body was, even a bullet would have to press her luck, while yes, she was ignoring the pain, dodging a melee attack, and dodging a bullet are two entirely different things. And so when the bullet struck as she tried to dodge the resulting force hit her out of the wagon sending her behind it. As she cut back the screech stifling the moan of pain she pulled herself to her feet. Looking down she saw a bullet wound, right over where the crossbow bolt had hit her when the Deimis had attacked her aboard a similar wagon. As she gathered her feet under her she closed her eyes reaching into the void.

Feeling the pain try to bog her down she Steadily got to her feet, the initial pain released form her actions as she reached down into the void again to try a second attempt. As she reached into the void between her and Seth she felt her grip tighten on the horseshoe as she knew what she had to do. Moving as quickly as she could, slowed a bit by the pain she shouted, "Hey Wilmhearst! Take this!" Throwing the fifth thorn at Dan she aimed it just for his general chest area, before she threw the horseshoe with the accuracy afforded to her by Seth right at Dan's nose, with every ounce of force.

Falling to her knees as the pain finally crippled her she grinned before she spat, "I was calling you Half-breed out of politeness, if you wish, I could go on about how it takes a screwed up individual to **** a demon. Then again, I always knew your family wasn't the brightest star in the sky...stupidity must breed rampant..." She still held onto the skill as she prepared a thorn, getting ready to finish off Dan, if all went well by the time he had gotten rid of the thorn, a horseshoe would hit him in the nose, potentially breaking the nose, or even killing him.

Either way, she wasn't sure how much longer she could last unless she could grasp pain syndicate once more. It was all she had going for her when she had stabbed Dan in the gut, and it would be all she had going for her, when she threw the horseshoe. As sick as it made her feel pulling on Seth's skill to augment her own, she would have to let it slide if she wanted to prove herself better.

[Slayer of the Rot]

"You've taken an Erupting Fist, plus I just shot you...where are you getting this energy from? I can feel that link between you two throbbing with power. Maybe if I simply take you apart with my hands, I can figure it out..." The enforcer watched her carefully, wondering now if even a bullet through her heart would stop that withering abuse spewing from her mouth, but his thoughts were cut short as he saw her hand flick forward, another of her trademark thorns slashing through the air. "You're starting to become a one trick horse!" He faltered just briefly as the name 'Wilmhearst' reached his ears, but he managed to deflect the dagger, knocking it somewhere to his left...but as his arm passed up over his head, he saw the horseshoe coming for him, spinning in a mad dervish. It slammed into his face, causing him to bend backwards, his arms falling out to his sides stiffly as the horseshoe broke his nose with sickening crack, bouncing to the ground to rattle briefly until it settled.

There was a few moments of silence as Dan continued to fall back...

Then his foot slammed down, halting his descent, and he rose back up, a hand going to his face. "You dumb bitch, you think I haven't had my nose broken?" He grabbed the crooked cartilage between thumb and forefinger, and with a sharp pull cracked it back into place. Blood was flowing down out of his nostrils and down his lips, but bleeding simply came with the job. He'd lost plenty of blood, and it was something he'd easily become used to. "As far as the Wilmhearst go, their name isn't even worth the infertile, hard packed dirt we stand on. They're liars of such a vile variety that I won't even ****in' consider lowering myself. And my mother-"

"She really has him riled up now," Gearheart whispered, peeking out from the shadows of the alley two tightly packed buildings created, holding the dusty bottle of scotch again. He sort of wished he knew what kind it was, but the label was cracked and peeled, faded by a harsh sun. "It's impossible to blame him though. If my family lied to me about so much as they have...I'd disown them as well. Well, had I not already killed them."

"-was a greater woman than you can ever pray to be. And speaking of praying...I'd ****in' start." Dan snatched the hat from his head and threw it high into the rimy air, knowing the wind currents, dead as this creaky old ghost town, wouldn 't carry it away. A high pitched whistled split the air, reaching it's apex quickly and halting with a quick peak, giving away to the quick hard beat of jungle drums. The silhouette of his famed sword appeared in white light in his hands and as the drums continued to drive their beat, Dan charged at Sarah with that astounding, inhuman speed he'd displayed many times before, swinging Rotslayer at her like it was nothing but a shortsword, intending on taking her in half at the waist.

Even though he was bothered that he'd had to bring it out kill only Sarah Dahlios, he'd rather kill her quickly now, instead of risking a dagger in the throat.

[Lavinian Pride]

Sarah smiled as Dan began his tirade. She could see where it was heading as he continued to berate her about her choice of words she smirked as she stood her ground. Still she knew coming into this there was only one acceptable defeat, and as the silhouette of Rotslayer shined through the cold night she smiled. He then rushed at her as she said loudly for Dan to hear, "I got what I wanted from this fight, see you round Daniel..."

The knife didn't meet any resistance as she let him cleave her in half. As she felt excruciating pain she laid still knowing she wasn't going to ever be able to get back up as she looked up at the sky and smiled, a look in her eyes as if she had triumphed. She was slowly bleeding out as she coughed and spat her last words into the air, "Maybe next time, you'll be more of a challenge..."

Then death embraced her, as she let herself go, not even fighting her fate. As Death carried her in its withered arms she felt a peace of mind, something that she had only experienced when she was part of Seth. Now she knew what lay on the other side, and what had driven him to many battles, it was intoxicating, the feeling of death, and yet she would awaken and be returned to the world. Preparing herself for that dreadful time she would awaken, she knew she had nothing to be ashamed of, Dan had been forced to use Rotslayer against her, and that in and of itself, was a personal victory. To get the same treatment as Seth, to be his equal for now, when she was deemed so horribly weak by the others, was a victory of itself.

As she waited for death to have its veil lifted she rested, knowing that for the moment, she felt whole, and that in and of itself, was worth the world to her.

[Slayer of the Rot]

"What are you doing! ****in' dodge!" But it was obvious what her intention was. The Rotslayer didn't wound it killed, something deadly obvious as the tremendous sword cut her cleanly in two. Contrary to popular belief, it took great strength to behead someone with a sword, much less cut them in two. To Dan, it was like breathing, but suddenly, where the pride of crushing another under his marching feet, there was nothing. There was something about this, a hollow victory and none more. Blood splattered him, and colored his face like warpaint, and he released the sword as it exited her, falling to his knees as she dropped to the ground. "No, you ****ing bitch! Get the **** back here and fight! FIGHT! God ****ing damn it, fight me!" He grabbed her by her shirt, pulling her close up to her, not caring about the blood that was soaking him. But she simply smiled, her expression almost as though enjoying some sort of dream, coughed, and spat up words that stung him worse than 'Wilmhearst', worse than the insult thrown at his mother as blood flooded her lips, spilling over her chin.

"Both of you! BOTH OF YOU ASSHOLES! I'LL KILL BOTH OF YOU MOTHER****ERS THE NEXT TIME I FIND YOU!" His face was twisted an amalgamation of several different expression; fury, hate, and something almost alien to him, grief. This wasn't how a god damned battle was fought! He pressed her up against his chest, letting his chin fall against her shoulder his free hand curling into a fist, hammering the ground beside them, shattering it easily. "No! You're ****ing fine! You can fight! Get up and pick your daggers, you bitch! You bitch....you....bitch, you bitch, you bitch..."

Then he realized, and it hurt more than his broken nose, more than when she'd stabbed him in the stomach and twisted.

He'd lost.

He may have defeated her in combat, but that ****ing smile said it all. She'd won. She got him to use the Rotslayer, something he'd been hell bent against, and she'd goaded him into losing himself.

"I...lost."

He said it to himself, to see if it sounded anymore awful and ludicrous as it did in his mind, but it didn't. The fact was, aside from Luc, he'd been defeated...but this had been hopeless. "I-I'm Dan Lagh'ratham." He looked up up to the stars, wondering if they were laughing at him or not. "I'm Dan ****ing Lagh'ratham," he told them with a little smile on his face, but they weren't listening at all.

Gearheart chuckled to himself softly as he watched the enforcer look back down to the dismembered body of Sara Dahlios, saw his lips peel back from his teeth, saw the dark thing pass over his eyes."It's stirring now! The Titan!" A soft hum rose from the inside of his coat and he vanished in a flash of phosphorescent violet light as a sudden, nonexistant wind rustled the enforcer's hair.

It had all been blue. And cold, cold as Salvar.

But now everything was red, red like her blood. All red. The moon too. And now he was hot, feverishly hot. Then suddenly, it went dark, and black veil pulled itself over his consciousness.
______

When he came to, the six buildings were gone, broken into splinters and timber, roaring in a in conflagration. It was behind him, almost two miles, and Sarah's body was in his arms. His knuckles were and bleeding. He looked down at her dumbly, trying to throw off his daze, and stopped just as a door appeared before him, a handful of monks appearing from beyond to usher him out.
______

"Yes ma'am, I'm happy to report that I've come across our 'Lost Fortune' in a Citadel battle I had the pleasure of viewing." In a high grade restaurant in Upper Radasanth, a man in a dark coat, hat with it's brim drawn down low, and square rimmed glasses sat with a cup of steaming tan colored coffee before him. A strange metal object was pressed to the side of his head.

"Yes ma'am, I'd be glad to. I do beleive he's heading to Etevna - and if all goes well, I will return to King's Idea with his body."

Yes, if necessary, I will break him. Gearheart, out."

[Storm Veritas]

Very nice, very enjoyable story. Two wonderful writers who bring their own distinctive flair and style to a quick, fun battle. Just a terrific read, I really liked both styles here. For scoring, I put the score for Slayer of the Rot first, and Lavinian Pride second. I am glad this was finished; it was quick but effective, fast moving and fun.

Story ([20, 22]/30)


Continuity - (8,8)/10 – You two both wove your characters’ pasts very effectively into this thread, and made it easy for the reader to understand. Not only did you make this thread develop your respective characters’ storylines, but you referenced points from the characters’ development that the reader may not instinctively know, giving us tidbits of information along the way. This is a very important, oft overlooked item, allowing the reader to easily get up to speed. I really enjoyed it, not having to read your histories or profiles.

Setting - (7,5)/10 – Both of you are very familiar with setting, and use it relatively well. I think SotR did a better job of really using vivid imagery to set the stage here, and there were several points early on in the battle where I was immersed with what was being described. LP’s style is more “to the point”, and while setting is used to manipulate your thread and is not ignored, it is clearly a second fiddle to the actual action. Which is certainly not a terrible thing, as…

Pacing - (5,9)/10 – A very short, very high paced battle. This was the only thing I really had some issues with (although sadly it hits you on two fronts, SotR). Several times Dan spouts of lengthy tirades, and they don’t seem to be accurate in terms of tempo. At a high intensity crossroad of battle, any more than a few words would be rushed, and longer sentences just seem out of place. In addition, the longer writing form employed really cuts away at times from the action.

On the other hand, I think pacing was clearly LP’s strongest suit, along with action. High paced, incredibly short posts that still effectively articulate what’s going on really adds to a sense of excitement, as the exchanges are more frenzied here. There are obvious tradeoffs to having these short posts, such as a loss in the setting score.

Character ([26, 26]/30)


Dialogue - (7, 7)/10 – The SotR score here is lower than I would typically score for such creative wordplay, but it reflects that pacing issue and the fact that the wonderful dialogue often seems a touch out of place. LP was good as always, but the Sarah character didn’t spark the same degree of “sass” I’m generally used to. Attacking the inherent flaws in Dan’s half-breed nature was smart work, but it did get repetitive after a bit.

Action - (8,9)/10 –Awesome. Several twists in the action, trying to steer clear of clichés and keep yourselves creative. The surprise attack that hits Dan, the hara-kiri style death of Sarah, and the net result being a moral victory for the felled. You both worked pretty quickly and had wild excitement here, very easy to get hooked into reading this thread. This is very, very good writing. I docked one extra point from SotR because naming your attacks just seems extremely silly, especially referring to them (erupting fist) by name to your opponents.

Persona - (10,10)/10 – I hate you two for making me compare apples and oranges in this battle. Sarah is slight and exquisite, the sultry temptress and the fiery vixen. Dan is the powerhouse, confused and disoriented, yet often arrogant and complex. Simply put, these are two of the very best characters in all of Althanas. Both characters are charming, round, complex, interesting, and absolutely fascinating. I can’t dock either of you a point in this category.

Writing Style ([19, 20] / 30)


Technique - (6, 5)/10 – Didn’t really see many literary devices in play, but there wasn’t a distinctive need for one. Some symbolism and allusion was used by Dan’s character, but items like the Rotslayer are hardly reaches in symbology. No shortage of writing skill, no major flaws, just no reach to achieve some higher plane here. And that’s just fine, because the bottom line is that this thread is fun to read.

Mechanics - (6, 7)/10 – Edit, edit, edit. For the most part, this was pretty well edited, and there weren’t too many glaring errors, but there were quite a few times where a fat-finger came into play. One specific came around one of Dan’s quotes, which was

Clarity - (7, 8)/10 – Very good for the most part, I was quite happy with the ability to easily read this. Chained attacks, however, are quite tough to figure out (see: horseshoe) and I think that some of the history was a little clouded. Some of the things about each character were implied – some vampirism perhaps in Dan, some similar undead feature in Sarah – but a lot of these elements could have been hammered home a touch more. But I’m being picky; for the most part this was terrific.

Misc ([7,7]/10)

Wild Card - (7,7)/10 – Fast, smooth, and seamless. Maybe not an epic effort but the free flowing, quick writing was just delicious.

TOTAL SCORE – (72, 75)

I give Lavinian Pride a slight win on a very tight, brilliantly written match that could easily go either way. Really enjoyed this, will give you guys a teaser on the front page for just a fantastic job. You’re both still here, both still active, and that’s a great thing. Keep it that way, you make this place better.

Lavinian Pride gets 1800 EXP and 200 Gold
Slayer of the Rot gets 800 EXP and 400 Gold (a little bonus for great writing as well)

Way to go, gentlemen.