Blank v.s. Damon Kaosi

[Lighthawk76]

The Citadel was more imposing than Blank had expected. He had imagined a large building, with a simple arena in the center, and stadium seating all around. What he got was completely different.

Finding it had been simple enough, everyone in Radasanth knew of the huge ziggurat known as the Citadel, and they were able to point him to the most direct route. Sadly, everyone he asked seemed to point him to a new most direct route, sometimes in the opposite direction of where he was going. He didn’t really mind though. It was his first time to visit Radasanth, and his first time in any place larger than a village. The hustle and bustle of the city was intoxicating; with its mixed aromas of baking bread, exotic perfumes, and stale sweat. The sights were even more amazing, giving him views of strange, sometimes horrible, faces, girls he thought only existed in his dreams, and buildings which turned him to awe

The Citadel was the most awe inspiring though. It was not just the large building with a simple arena that he had imagined. It was an enormous building which lived up to its name as the building that withstood the demon assault. Blank just stood there for a moment, in utter awe of the multi-tiered structure, and wondering just how such a magnificent piece of architecture came into existence.

“Pretty, ain’t it?”

Blank didn’t even turn to the familiar voice, with its constant mocking tone. Still, he couldn’t stay mad at the old man, that mocking always had a kind twinkle to it that just made it impossible to hold a grudge against him.

“Yeah, it is”

“So, you planning to go in there and find yourself some small kid who wandered in, and proceed to give yourself a good feeling as you knock the tar out of him?”

On second thought, maybe Blank could a hold a grudge against the man.

He turned to him, a scowl on his face. The old man looked as cocky as ever. Alan stood there with a mocking smile, his eyes twinkling like they always did, more so since he probably just awoke with a young girl curled up happily beside him. They had exchanged some mean words the night before, or more specifically Blank gave out some mean words while Alan threw them back in his face with that infuriating grin of his.

Normally their fights would blow over by the morning as they packed up to move on, but this time was different. They were in Radasanth, and were planning to stay a few extra days to let Alan get in touch with some of his contacts. The great metropolis also had something that could allow Blank to prove himself correct in the previous night’s fight. They had been talking about Blank’s lack of skill with the staff. He was getting on pretty good he thought, having been able to deal with a couple bandits on their journey, but Alan was convinced the boy wasn’t yet good enough. Blank knew he wasn’t some master of the staff, as of yet, but he could to hold his own, he knew he could. And a match at the Citadel would prove it.

Without another word to Alan, he began walking straight into the large building, his gloved hands bunched into balls, and a scowl on his face.


* * *

He was soon humbled again as he entered the lobby of the structure. He had lost all of his bearings going through the long hallways. Thankfully the monks were much more able in their sense of direction than the local city folk, and had him going in the right direction each time he asked. Alan had entered the Citadel with him, but had soon gone off on another path. Blank wasn’t surprised, the old man had been everywhere, and probably knew the quickest route to the lobby. Or to the women’s waiting room.

Thankfully Alan had yet to get to the lobby when he arrived, so he didn’t have to deal with any snide remarks as he walked up to the counter and the fat monk sitting behind it, writing something on pieces of parchment.

Blank stood there, his hands wrapped around the sling that held his staff behind his back. He rocked slightly, waiting for the monk to finish with his papers and acknowledge him. The lobby was relatively busy, with quite a few monks running here and there, and the same number of waiting fighters milling around. They seemed to cover the gambit, from the mages in loose flowing robes, their hands practicing complex motion or their lips going over incantations, to the brutes, with their bodies sealed in layers of armor, and blades just big enough to wield hanging off every part of their body.

“Can I help you?” came the monk’s first words.

Blank turned back to the man, expecting to find him done with the papers and prepared to help him with what he needed. The man hadn’t moved a bit, and still looked utterly engrossed in what he was doing.

“Umm… well, uh… I can wait until you’re done,” stammered Blank, not exactly sure if he should interrupt the monk in what was apparently very important business.

“Kid,” he responded gruffly, “If everyone waited until guys like me were done with what we are doing, the Citadel would never be in use. What can I help you with?”

“I… uh… want to be put in a match.”

“No, really? I never expected that.” Blank was a little taken aback by the man. He didn’t want to cause any trouble.

“Sorry, I mean, uh, this is my first time signing up for something like this, and, uh, I’m not sure of what to do.”

“Alright, I’ll set you up in a match in a trainee arena. That should be at your challenge level.”

Blank knew that Alan was watching, or would be watching, or would somehow find out from someone who was watching, and if he beat the tar out of someone who knew next to nothing about a weapon, he would hear nothing but laughter from the man.

“I think I’m, uh, a bit more than a… trainee.”

“Alright, novice then.”

Blank wanted more than that. He stood there for a moment, thinking over what he was about to do. If he even held his own at the level he wanted to go in and didn’t die in the first few minutes, Alan would have to give him some respect.

“I want to be put in the top.”

The monk looked up from his paper, continuing to write without looking. His eyes were skeptical behind his thick glasses, and his pink mouth turned into incredulous smirk.

“I thought you said this was your first time. It’s probably not the best idea to go up against someone in one of the top arenas, in you first match. You really might want to stick with the novices.”

“I know the staff well,” he lied, “and I think I can handle myself.”

“Alright, but it takes more than just knowing your weapon” said the monk, continuing to write, and pulling out a large book with his other hand, “I’ll send you in, but it’s your funeral.” He glanced at the book, flipping though its pages, before tapping on a certain line.

A few minutes later, with Blank standing at the counter in perplexity, another monk, came up to him.

“This way, please,” he said beckoning to Blank with a smile and a spring in his step. “You’ll be in one of my favorite arenas, the mountain aerie.”


* * *

What in Althanas had Blank gotten himself into?

Blowing wind ruffled his brown hair, and his boyish face was scrunched up against the chilly gusts. Fluffy clouds could be seen though his squinted eyes, passing along quietly across the sky, seemingly unperturbed by the wind which attacked Blank.

The boy put his hands up in front of his face trying to look around at where he was. The portal had made him a little disoriented, having not transported magically before, and he wished he had been put somewhere a little more hospitable. He had asked for a harder arena though, and from what he saw, he had gotten it.

He was on the edge of a huge precipice, which appeared to fall down into what was most likely oblivion. Behind him, the view wasn’t much better. He was inside what appeared to be a huge mountain opening, probably a little below heaven. Looking around, the whole thing made a rough semicircle, giving the impression that Blank was inside a huge mouth. It even had a tongue, or multiple tongues, created by the platforms which jutted out from the back of the mouth. It would have been the perfect place for a giant eagle, a family of them really, to make their home.

Walking to the back of the mouth, and out of the wind, Blank reached up to the shortest platform, jutting out right above his shoulder, and climbed atop it. He sat at the edge, pulled his staff out and laid it across his legs, wondering from which way his opponent would come. No matter how hard he tried to wonder though, he kept imaging himself falling off that edge though, falling down, down, down, into oblivion.

What had he got himself into?

[INDK]

(for chronology’s sake, this takes place before Damon meets Ashiakin)

The streets of Corone were a busy place this time of year. Noble and knave alike passed through the marketplace excitedly, all of them mumbling about the Lornius Corporate Challenge. Some were looking to buy the weapon that would complete their arsenal, others looking to set wagers with the gambling establishments while yet others seemed simply content to soak in the glow of idealistic young champions spouting off on how their swordplay rivaled that of Devon dan Sabriel. The buzz had gotten so great that Damon had decided that the tournament was something that he would have to be part of. However, the young boy was well aware of the shortcomings that he faced. He lacked the proper weapons, much experience, or even clothes for that matter. While Damon’s rebirth had left him largely unaware of a good number of social norms and etiquette, he had come to realize that practically everyone else was at least clothed. He wasn’t sure why they did it, but it seemed to be standard practice around Althanas and at the moment Damon just wanted to fit in. Even in a place as awkward as the marketplaces of Radasanth, a newborn naked child of fifteen was bound to stand out.

Stealing a machete was not particularly hard. The shopkeeper had so absorbed in negotiations over an ornamental flamberge that inadequate attention had been placed upon the weapons of plain steel. That had worked to Damon’s advantage, especially because he didn’t even know that he was stealing it. All he knew was everyone else on Althanas seemed to have weapons, so it made sense for him to have one too. Damon was sure that he’d picked well, the steel was polished and shiny and the weapon came along with a leather belt he could strap around his waist.

“Weapons AND Clothes” Damon thought proudly, as he now moved through the throng of marketgoers with a renewed sense of pride. He was certain that he would no longer be the centre of attention, unaware as to how noteworthy his monochromatic eyes, straight black hair and pale, near-white body made him seem. Additionally, the leather belt that held his machete hardly constituted as clothes, save for among the Moontae and some of the more hedonistic tribes of Berevar.

Still, Damon was far too proud of himself now to notice the fact that the awkward stares had not been abated. After all, the young boy was far too proud of the fact that he had solved his problems in one fell swoop to notice that he hadn’t actually solved any of his problems. In fact, Damon was so proud of himself that he had barely noticed that he’d left the relatively secure bazaar district and into some of the rougher areas of town. The slums of Corone were not avoided by the wealthy just because of guilty conscience, but because some of the roughest, most barbaric gangs on the planet seemed to make their home there. For a young boy of about fifteen, there were few situations that could have as potentially disastrous of an outcome.

Still Damon whistled merrily through the slums, thinking nothing of the poverty around him. It seemed no different than wealth as far as the boy was concerned. He knew nothing of money, nor was he even aware of the fact that he would soon grow hungry and need to eat. And so he smiled, trying to make casual conversation with the people who seemed to look at him as he passed them by. “Nice house,” he would casually mention, especially when he saw a shack that was made of shinier scrap metal. “Good to see you all.”

Most people just grunted at him. The boy was certainly something else, and most of the gangs found him too amusing of a sight to bother attacking. After all, it wasn’t as if Damon had pockets within which he would have kept his gold. Mostly, Damon made his way through the slums unharmed, despite the fact that a younger rogue had taken particular pleasure in following him.

It was in a more remote outskirt of town where Damon had finally discovered his pursuant. At first, the boy paid the stranger little mind, figuring that the rogue was equally entitled to the land on which they walked. However, once the rogue had attempted to attack him, Damon’s instincts kicked in. A quick parry with a knife was blocked by the agile newborn, and a quick punch to the temple knocked the would-be assailant to the ground.

“Why did you do that?” Damon demanded, more confused than he was offended by the action. “Is that your custom?” The newborn was completely oblivious about how nearly he had come to being severely hurt by the knife. The defensive actions had been merely instinct, Damon wasn’t even aware that his actions had constituted defense.

For his part, the rogue was dazed now, surprised that the near naked boy had the reflexes of a seasoned veteran. Still, fearful for his life, the young villain managed to stammer out a defensive plea, “Uhh… don’t… don’t… hurt me.”

Damon shook his head. A more savvy warrior would have noticed that the young assailant was nothing more than a boy looking to make his mark, but Damon was far too naïve to know something like that. Impulsively, the newborn sought to get a few questions answered, seeing as how such a novel situation required understanding. “I should ask this guy here a few questions,” Damon thought. “Find out what’s going on here, why people wear clothes and jump out at each other with sharp pieces of metal.”

In fact, at that moment, Damon was wondering if having failed to flash his machete had been a genuine breach of etiquette. Thus, he removed the weapon from its sheath, only to be greeted by a new chorus of protests from the rogue he unwittingly held captive.

“I’ll give you anything,” the rogue protested, believing that there was only one reason that Damon would unsheath the machete. “Just let me live…”

Damon smiled, it sounded like a good deal. He had every intention of letting this stranger live anyways. “Uhh… just tell me what I need for the LCC…” Damon replied, thinking over his demands for a moment as he declared them outloud. “Yeah… that’s what I want…”

“Uhh… you need clothes, to cover your body… and to go to the Citadel for training,” the rogue replied, the fear of the moment far exceeding any sense of surprise at such an odd request.

“I HAVE CLOTHES” Damon said assertively, gesturing towards his belt. “I don’t know what the Citadel is though.”

“More clothes…” came the captive’s reply. “Cover your entire body... the Citadel is a building for battle.”

Damon didn’t know what battle was, and so the explanation of the Citadel was vastly inappropriate. However, the revelation that his clothes were inappropriate was far more crushing. “Give me yours,” he demanded, well aware that his captive’s clothes only covered the torso and lower body. Still, that would have to suffice at that moment. He would get clothes to cover the rest of his skin later.

“What????” the rogue now asked, the complete ridiculousness of the situation finally exceeding his sense of fear.

“Your clothes,” Damon replied.

It wasn’t worth arguing. The rogue stripped down, and after being dismissed by the elf, ran away in nothing more than his under breeches. Damon smiled, put on the rough tunic and badly stitched pants with a triumphant air and then nodded appreciatively before putting the machete back into its sheath.

“Time to find this Citadel” he muttered out loud.

-x-

Eventually Damon had found the Citadel. He smiled, eager to find out what a battle was. Sauntering in, the newborn imagined that he was now a paragon of acceptability. He was dressed very in clothes with shoes and socks to boot. The newborn had even managed to get a bandana that covered his head and some gloves that covered his hands. They were mismatched, the gloves lacy and white while the bandana was bright red and definitively blue collar. Still, Damon didn’t mind. It made him one of the best dressed people there were. Everything but his neck and his face were covered now. True, the Ai’bron monks were clothed in hoods that covered all but their faces, but Damon had been informed that the monks would be very upset if he were to ask them for their garments. It would mean, that he wouldn’t be able to get into the Citadel.

“I would like a battle please,” he said, after approaching the front gate. He held out his hand expectedly.

The clerk had his face buried in a ledger and didn’t even bother to look up. “What kind of battle?” he asked in a monotone, completely unware of what a peculiar sight he would have been witness to if he’d merely turned up his eyes.

“The best kind!” Damon declared, as if he was surprised that anyone would want to settle for anything less. After all, anyone as well dressed as him certainly deserved the best battles that the Citadel offered.

“Alright sure,” the clerk said. “Third door to your left… what’s your name kid?”

“Damon Kaosi,” Damon replied nonchalantly. The clerk merely wrote it down without paying much attention, and the newborn sauntered into his first battle curiously.

-x-

Upon entering, Damon held his mouth agape, shocked at what he saw. Somehow, by someway, someone had come and put an entire mountain within the room. Until that moment, the newborn had never believed such a feat to be possible. Clapping his hands, he looked on wideyed at the cohabiter of the cave, wondering why this stranger wasn’t nearly as impressed as he was.

“This is the most amazing battle I’ve ever been in,” Damon said earnestly, looking out towards the great expanse of land below the mouth of the cave. Wind blowing in his face, the newborn situated himself upon the platform on which he’d landed and began to study the stranger who was located less than twenty feet away.

Damon was glad he'd discovered the battle.

[Lighthawk76]

Blank couldn’t have waited more than a few minutes before he was greeted by what was apparently his opponent. Going through the portal between the town and the aerie had been quite an experience for the boy, but watching some one suddenly pop into existence on a ledge near him was quite different. He almost fell off his perch as he jumped up with a start, his staff falling down to the ground with a few wooden clangs.

He watched the other boy carefully as he looked around in amazement. The kid couldn’t be any older than Blank himself, and was most likely younger. He was probably a little crazy as well, as his garments clearly showed. The tunic, pants, and bandana seemed fine, but the lacy gloves were something else.

Guessing at what to make of this new stranger, he could already hear Alan’s tutelage coming to mind, “Don’t let you opponents ridiculousness make you think less of them, it’s the most ridiculous opponent that’s the most dangerous.” That specific piece of advice had come after Alan had pretended to play drunk, and decided to have them both go through a few sparring routines. Blank had seen no need to work exceptionally hard in his movements, and had paid for it with a busted lip and a hundred other bruises. This kid’s equipped, he thought, he could just be playing me for a fool. I won’t let him.

“This is the most amazing battle I’ve ever been in.” The kid was experienced; there was no doubt in Blank’s mind. He had seen battle’s before, probably in lower level arenas. That meant that he was pretty good, he had fought through other matches. The thought never crossed Blank’s mind that he was just some star-struck kid. He couldn’t be, the chance of both of them being very inexperienced in a high level arena was slim and none.

As he watched the boy settled down to look at Blank, apparently not preparing an attack, Blank was again unsure. Was this something that the better fighters did in the Citadel? Make fools of the younger guys before beating them to a pulp? It had to be something like that. Or maybe, just maybe…

“Never let your guard down.” He heard Alan say again.

As the kid sat there, studying Blank, the older boy slowly let himself fall from the platform he was perched on, and bent down to retrieve his staff, keeping his eyes on the boy. This only helped to misguide his hand, and lead to him knocking his own staff underneath the platform.

He stood up, his face red, wondering what to do. He had to get his staff, but if he took his eyes off the kid, he’d probably get that machete stuck in his ribs. “Never take you eyes off your opponent” was now in direct opposition to “never lose your weapon, and if you do, get it back as soon as possible.”

He smiled at the kid bashfully. “Umm… uh… can I get my staff back before we start?”

He could already hear Alan laughing.


* * *

And laughing he was. The old man had disappeared, not only to find the women’s waiting room, where he sadly could not find a woman who would come and sit with him purely on his own charms, but also to get to one of the many viewing rooms situated throughout the Citadel.

He had laughed quite loudly when his young companion had first entered into the arena. The boy’s look of scared disbelief was quite amusing. He wasn’t too worried about him, he knew that he couldn’t really get hurt in the arena, though he was pretty sure the young Blank was going to get his pride and his high thoughts of his skills handed back to him in under a few minutes by some amazingly adept warrior. Yes, they would be handed back, and his pride and high thoughts would be in very small pieces indeed.

So when Blank’s opponent, a kid no more than fifteen, appeared, Alan was soon doubled over with laughter. He would have to give Blank some credit for being willing to go up against the amazingly adept warrior he was prepared for, but sadly he would be getting no real praise from Alan for defeating some fifteen year old boy.

The boy may have been something more though, thought Alan as the laughter subsided. He had been around Althanas for a lot longer than anyone ever should, and had seen crazier things than a fifteen year old boy beat a kid whose only real knowledge of the staff was basic defense and his only real experience were some out of the way bandits.

Alan sat back in his viewing chair, allowing the last vestiges of his humor to fade. Who knew, maybe it would be a good fight. If not, it would be a funny one.

Hearing Blank stammer out his question verified to the old man that it would be the latter, and he proceeded to bend over again in laughter.

[INDK]

“He probably should have said hello,” Damon thought reproachfully. He looked at his battle-mate with a gaze that was simultaneously disappointed and critical. Damon couldn’t help but wonder if he shouldn’t just leave the room. It was quite annoying, after all, he had gone through all the trouble of finding shoes, gloves and all the proper attire for a battle, and now he was being asked to share. And to top it all off, this guy who had intruded upon his battle now had the gall to ask him a question! As if he would know the answer, he had barely been born a few hours ago. As it was, all he could remember was a letter B and a name that he’d adopted. At the moment, the boy figured he had better things to worry about. After all, Damon had decided that he was going to be champion of the next LCC!

With a grunt, he was about to turn and leave in an indignant huff when he realized that the door behind him had disappeared. The boy would have probably spent longer upon the question, had it not been for this stranger with whom he was sharing the battle. Exhaling loudly, Damon plopped down upon his ledge. “How should I know if he can pick up his staff,” Damon muttered to himself. He bit his lip and stroked his chin, the machete remaining in its sheath. Now, the boy was frustrated. He had come to collect his battle, not to sit and tell other people what they could and could not do.

After giving the question a good two minutes of thought, the boy smiled. He realized what was going on. This was his battle after all, the other man inside it was just visiting. “That must be it,” the boy thought triumphantly. Damon smiled again. All was right with the world. All the trouble he’d gone to for clothes was finally paying off.

“Well, in my battle, everyone can do what they want,” Damon declared magnanimously. “Sure, you can go and get your staff… then we'll start whatever it is that you want to start.”

He grinned at the stranger, thinking now that the battle wasn’t nearly as bad as was his first impression. Damon was pleased. Now all he needed to figure out was how to bring this battle with him to the LCC.

Patiently, Damon now waited for the stranger to thank him for his generosity.

[Lighthawk76]

Blank started getting scared when the kid changed his look. He’s going to attack me. He’s going to spring off that platform like some demon god of battle and tear me to itty, bitty, shreds with that shiny machete of his. As the boy moved and grunted, Blank immediately turned, throwing his hands over his head and praying for some miracle. After a few seconds, he chanced a glance at the kid, seeing that he was now sitting on the ledge, mulling something over.

He’s deciding the best way to kill me. Maybe I should just offer to let him to cut off my head, yeah, that’s supposed to be a painless death. As Blank thought over his death wishes, throwing in a few brave things to say before he died, the kid broke into a smile, looking utterly content. Here it comes.

“Well, in my battle, everyone can do what they want. Sure, you can go get the staff… then we’ll start whatever it is that you want to start.” It was stated as if he was the one in utter control. It wasn’t unkind, but left Blank with a feeling that he should be the one thanking the kid for his generosity. It also helped Blank’s second thoughts about the kid grow.

The kid was either insane, one of those psychotic freaks that liked to play with their victims, putting them through the greatest hell imaginable, before letting them loose into the cold oblivion, or he really had no idea what he was doing here. The part of Blank that was listening to every piece of advice he could remember Alan giving him kept saying he was a psycho. The other part, now the larger part, said he was just some kid who got in over his head.

Irony was just great like that.

Blank put on a smile somewhere between bashful and servile, deciding to play along with the kid’s game. “Thank you very much.” Ducking his head, breaking visual contact with the kid, he walked under the platform and grabbed his staff. He quickly got out from under the platform, and made his way into the center of the room, keeping his eyes on the kid.

As soon as he felt the wind against his back, something like twenty yards away from the abyss and the same distance from the kid, he twirled his staff above his head with both his hands, brought it sweeping around in a full circle, and in one quick jarring motion he was in a defensive position.

He smiled at the kid. If he was crazy, he would die anyway, might as well make it memorable. If the kid was just some boy in over his head, he was going to have to answer to Blank’s staff for putting him through all this trouble.

“Alright kid, my name’s Blank. Whenever you’re ready, let’s get this started.” It sounded confident, it actually surprised Blank himself. Truth was, he was still really scared the kid would come off that platform fighting like some demon god of battle.

[INDK]

Now this was Damon’s battle, so that meant he was in charge. The boy had already told his battle-mate that he would have been free to do as he pleased, though it was clear now to Damon that this stranger was not particularly creative. “His idea of fun is picking up a stick and his name is just Blank…” the boy thought, less than pleased by the most recent events. “Not Blank Madison or Blank Gonzalez, just Blank… didn’t he think that he should get a better name…”

The boy thought he might offer a recommendation, but at the moment, he had a bigger priority. He had to figure out what it was now that he was supposed to start. Damon’s initial plan had just been to come to the Citadel and get his battle, now it seemed like the situation was going to be far more complex. Before the boy would be able to have his battle all to himself, he was going to have to entertain this stranger… this stick fetching man who couldn’t come up with a better name then Blank…

“Might as well get it over with,” Damon thought, as he pressed down upon his hands and vaulted down from the ledge. It was a good fifteen feet fall from the ledge down to the ground, but the boy landed quite gracefully. He stumbled a bit with his landing, and looked sheepishly towards Blank. The boy was ashamed, he figured now that he looked clumsy. Everything else he’d done recently had shown him off as someone who was accomplished. Getting an almost complete set of clothes, being the owner of his very own battle, all of that was undone by how foolish he must have looked with his awkward fall.

“I would have landed it right if it weren’t for the wind,” the boy explained defensively. There was enough wind blowing in from the mouth of the battle that it was a reasonable excuse. It was a reasonable protest as well, after all, how was he have supposed to have known that battles could be so windy.

“The last time I was in a battle, it wasn’t nearly this windy,” Damon continued, hoping that his blasé emphasis on the word last would conceal the fact that he was lying. “Most of the battles I’m aren’t windy but they’re nice and normal…”

He stopped for a moment, took a few steps backwards to move out of the slipstream of wind moving into the cave before continuing, and then grinned at Blank. “Well, I’m Damon Kaosi,” he said. “I have two names. You should get a second one as well… would you like me to pick it for you?”

Damon figured that once this Blank had a proper name then the stranger would take his stick and go. Then Damon could have his battle and proceed on to the LCC.

[Lighthawk76]

Blank stared in amazement at the kid who now named himself Damon Kaosi. He didn’t get it, he just didn’t get it. In a matter of a few sparse seconds, the kid had gone in his mind from a capable fighter, with the amazing vault from the platform, to a pouting little kid, giving an excuse for landing badly (something Blank was not quite sure had happened), to an experienced fighter, blandly throwing out that he had been in battles before (though his tone seemed a little suspicious), to finally showing what may be his greatest example of true insanity.

In his experience, you didn’t just comment on a stranger’s lack of names. You didn’t even comment to a friend about their lack of names. In fact, Blank couldn’t think of a single instance where you should comment on someone’s lack of names. He let the point drop though.

Blank stood there, having dropped his defensive staff and wondered what to make of the kid. He had to be that, just some kid. He definitely had some skill, but then again, Blank didn’t have the greatest eye for what skill was. The way he talked though, it wasn’t the speech of a sure confident warrior. He was just some kid. There was nothing to worry about here.

He shook his head, allowing his thoughts to leave out of his swinging brown locks. He looked at the kid again, undecided on what to do. Maybe he should just attack him, no warning, just get it over with. But if he was just some kid, who had little to no experience, he would be just some child beater.

He wanted to get this started though, to get into battle. He knew that Alan was watching, and he wanted to prove himself. He was going to have this battle.

“Damon.” His confidence had left him, but so had his fright. He was just a too sick of being paranoid. He gritted his teeth before continuing, fell back into a full defensive position and began walking forward. “Alright, I’m sorry if I’m wrong about you, but its time to get his battle started.”

With that said, he came on straight forward. His first attack was simple. Beginning a full circle as he came within range of Damon and moving his hands down his staff to make the largest portion of it swing the rotation, he aimed straight for the kid’s chest as the circle came to a close.

Hopefully, he’d get his over with quickly.


* * *

Alan was amazed at the kid’s nerve. To name himself after the great general, Damon Kaosi, that took some guts. It was name with a true legend attached to it. And as far as he knew, it was in no way a common name. Alan applauded the kid’s flair. If his contacts were correct, than Damon Kaosi had disappeared from the face of Althanas, though that news was old, and any number of things could have happened by then. Though Alan had never known the general, there was no way this kid could be him, whether reincarnated or raised from the dead.

Alan may have been intimately familiar with those who refused to die, but he was quite sure that if Damon had come back, he would have found a way to remember his past, or at least keep it. Someone that powerful just had to have been able to.

He pushed the thoughts away. He would have to check in with a few more of his contacts later. Maybe Kaosi had resurfaced, though most likely as a corpse. He had more important things to worry about.

The main one was the fact that his pupil apparently had no idea of how to gauge his opponent. True, his opponent was just a kid, but you didn’t attack with all your strength straight away, which he knew was what Blank was doing. It would be a move that he wouldn’t be able to recover from quickly.

It didn’t really matter. The kid would probably go down with this move. He’d have to make sure that Blank’s head didn’t get to big if it did though. He prepared to get up and leave, just waiting for the kid, the upstart who called himself Damon Kaosi, to fall with this single blow.

[INDK]

The boy had no idea what was going on. “How does one start a battle?” he thought bewilderedly. A battle was a big hollow rock with an opening, perhaps blowing wind and pedestals were also prerequisites, but none of those things were really startable. However, Damon had no time now to comment on the peculiar wording that this one named Blank person used.

Before Damon could have made reference to his confusion, a future sight flashed right before his eyes. However, it wasn’t a mere thought, but a vivid image, a warning that let him know of Blank’s attack just as soon as the staff fighter himself had decided to make it. Immediately, the boy’s face dropped. He just didn’t understand why it seemed so many people wanted to hurt him today. Earlier, it was the man with the knife, and a few others had tried to poke and cudgel him with things as he’d asked them for their clothes. Now, this Blank person, to whom Damon had been nothing but nice, was trying to do the same thing.

“So, he’s trying to invade my battle… and after I let him pick up his stick and offer to give him a name, he’s still going to try and hurt me,” the boy thought, irritably. Still, Damon didn’t hate this stranger, he merely now thought Blank to be confused. The boy now assumed that Blank had merely wandered into his cave from a mental institution.

“It’s a shame,” Damon thought as he bent his knees quickly to slide under the blow. “If he wasn’t so violent I would have just let him stay in my battle until his nurse came to take him away.”

Damon knew he was going to have to act quickly, with an insane one named adversary, he couldn’t afford to take many chances. He was going to have to take care of this once and for all… it was either that, or give up his battle. And with the LCC coming up, Damon had no intention of doing the latter. Instead he lunged forwards moments after he felt the staff pass over his heads, completely unaware that he would likely be the beneficiary of the momentum of Blank’s hard blow.

Keeping low, Damon now grabbed at Blank’s shins, hoping to pull forwards and snatch the ground out from under his lunatic battlemate. Then, it would be a simple matter of crawling onto the Blank’s torso and delivering a swift punch to the head. In his experience of getting clothes, Damon had found that most people stopped being combative after that.

[Lighthawk76]

Blank was expecting to hear the thud of his staff against the boy’s chest, maybe even feel it as wood smacked into skin. He hoped that it wouldn’t be too painful, just enough to knock the wind out of the kid. From there he would have to do no more than knock the kid out. He may not have known how to wield a staff in battle, but he knew where to hit to cripple you opponent.

He was just thinking about how he may apologize to the kid afterward, when the staff continued to move where he was sure it was supposed to stop. Yes, it was supposed to have stopped, and he was supposed to hear some sort of thud, maybe a deep grunt, and then the kid was supposed to drop.

Damon wasn’t there though. The kid was now at his feet, crouched and ready to lunge forward. How in the seventh hell did he get down there!, thought Blank. It didn’t really matter because the second thought that came into Blank’s mind superseded this one quickly. How in the eighth hell am I going to come back from this!

The answer was quickly given to him when he felt Damon’s hands entangle with his own shins. The boy had missed grabbing them, because of the momentum of Damon’s swing, something he couldn’t stop terribly quickly. They did bring him down though, and his momentum continued landing him right on his back.

As he felt himself hit the ground, he again heard Alan in his head, Don’t let yourself become prone to your opponent. Get away from him if you can’t defend or attack.

He had to get away, and in this position, the only way to get away was to roll away.

So he began rolling as hard as he could, planning to get back up when he was safely away from Damon.


* * *

Alan couldn’t believe it when the boy ducked before he could have even known Blank was going to attack. Damon had constantly shown a little lack when it came to knowing what exactly was going on. It was something Blank had no chance of really picking up, but it was something that was hard to get by old Alan.

Now, the kid knew that an attack was coming before it happened. Blank was already too far sworn to his maneuver to bring it back, even if he had seen what the boy had done. The man didn’t have that much battle experience to second guess an opponent.

It had been only luck that had saved Blank from being pulled off the ground, him and his dang idea that the more power behind an attack the better. It was another thing to make sure he didn’t get too bigheaded over.

Alan was still amazed that the kid was able to move tike that. It was almost as if he had seen it coming before it even started coming. Alan stopped all preparation to leave, hoping to figure out if the kid, this Damon, was just really, really lucky at guessing, or if it was something more. Maybe the kid deserved the name he chose.

Watching his pupil begin to roll, Alan could do nothing but groan. He knew what the man was hoping to do, get away from his opponent to prepare a counter attack. It was smart. What wasn’t smart, was that Blank was heading right for the mouth of the cave opening.

If Alan had to make a bet, he would say that Blank would, once reaching the edge, then go off the edge. And probably wonder why he was falling.

[INDK]

Had Damon not giggled immediately after his assailant’s fall, then the boy likely would have had been upon Blank’s chest and ended the little scuffle. However, Blank rolled away quickly, with an considerably more impressive showing than Damon would have expected from a madman. The stone ground was also quite rough, and with the wind blowing into the cave, Blank’s escape was no easy task. Had the boy been so motivated, Damon could have easily ran up and caught up with his adversary, making the finish to the battle academic as he hovered above the enemy.

As far as Damon was concerned though, this was no competition. The boy merely wanted the madman to go away, or at the very least stop trying to attack him. As long as Blank was rolling away from him, Damon was content to pick himself up and dust off his shins.

“Thank you for leaving,” the boy said politely. “If you want to go fight someone, you’re not going to be able to do it in my battle.” However, Damon really wasn’t sure how Blank would have left the battle. The mouth of the cave hung out over a sharp ledge, and the ground below was far enough of a fall that even Damon wouldn’t have survived it. The boy was completely unaware of that fact, so he assumed now that Blank was just leaving.

The battle would be his now. The boy smiled brightly. He was about to raise his arms in triumph when a second vision spoiled his joy.

“Oh no!” Damon thought, his eyes opening wide as he saw Blank’s body mangled and battered on the ground. “He’s going to get hurt if he falls down there.”

“Don’t roll!” the young battle owner commanded, hoping that Blank would obey. Still, Damon was well aware that Blank had not been the most obedient guest. While he had not been on Althanas long, the boy sincerely doubted that most battle visitors would attack their hosts. Fervent for a solution, Damon’s hands began to shake, as he worried that his earlier command would not be enough. Blank had been a terrible guest, but Damon had no malice to him. Lunatic or not, it wouldn’t do for the boy to see his company mangled on the ground below.

“Think… think…” the boy thought frantically, as his hands rung wildly and his machete shook against his thigh. Damon began to fret. For a moment, he wondered if he’d be able to keep his battle if company ended up dead. The boy exhaled, then took a nagging look at the machete that bounced buoyantly at his thigh.

“The weapon,” he exclaimed. The rogue had listened to every one of Damon’s demands after the boy had withdrew the weapon. It was likely that Blank would too. Thus, the young boy unsheathed his weapon and began to chase after his fleeing guest.

“Don’t leave that way!” Damon begged. “You’ll die… leave out some other way! We’ll find a door!” He waved his machete, trying to make sure that Blank would see it.

[Lighthawk76]

The rough ground hurt as Blank rolled away from his young adversary. His shoulder was hurting after only a few rolls, and he heard a new tear being created in his pant leg. He had closed his eyes throughout the retreat, and wasn’t sure where he was heading, but knew that it was away from Damon. He was already getting a little disoriented, but he kept rolling anyway, not knowing what Damon was truly capable of and wanting to get as much room as possible between himself and the apparently experienced kid. He didn’t think the kid was following him, not hearing his footsteps coming, so he would probably be alright after a few more moments.

When he heard the first warning he slowed down, preparing to stop. He didn’t yet come to a complete stop, not sure if it may be a trick. The kid had been pretty innocent-like, and hadn’t given him any reason to believe he tried to trick his opponents. He had also sounded more concerned than pout-like, which is what Blank would have expected.

Then he heard the words which helped him remember exactly where he was. “You’ll die...” He was is an aerie. The aerie was in the side of a mountain. This mountain was very tall. A drop from this mountain was very, if not completely, fatal. He was rolling in some direction away from the only wall. Everywhere that was not a wall was an opening to this very fatal fall.

As he finished with this train of thought, something which took a little under an eye’s blink, he came to a jarring halt, and stared out into the abyss. He was falling. Oh god, his life was going to end. He could already imagine his small form being crushed on the rocks below. In just a few moments he would cross through those clouds. Then he would see the rocky plain. It would be his only grave. He didn’t think that the monks let people die in citadel battles. Would they go to get his body from the foot of the mountain? Or would he just be left there, a door in the citadel a portal to his grave?

The clouds were sill moving horizontally. He let his head fall on his shoulder, the worst of the dizziness beginning to pass, letting him see that he was a full two feet from the cliff edge. Taking a few breaths he turned away from the edge, returning his attention to the task at hand.

Damon was almost on him. He had finally drawn that machete, and was waving it around, yelling for him to leave by some other way. So that’s what the kid wanted, to make sure he died by his own blade. Blank was still pretty dizzy, but he had to do something. Taking his staff, he swiped awkwardly at Damon’s feet, hoping to trip the boy up, and then... He would worry about that when he could.

[INDK]

Damon perhaps should have been more alert as he ran forwards, but the boy had no intention of going all the way over to the edge of the cave. After all, it was Blank, not he who was touched a bit in the head. Thus, the staff had taken the boy completely by surprise. His precognitive abilities had failed him, primarily because the boy would have ignored them anyways, so thus he stumbled forwards now, tripping up over the staff and falling flat on his face.

The boy screamed in shock as he fell, his entire body feeling completely and utterly helpless. Immediately, his hands began to tighten, and his eyes looked out wide as he gained an intimate view with the jagged rocks out beyond the aerie. True, Damon knew little about the laws of gravity at the moment, but even then the newborn possessed enough instincts to know to avoid pain. The rocks looked jagged and sharp below.

With a thud, Damon hit the ledge with less than a quarter of his body extending out over the ledge. Eyes wide and face even paler than it normally was, the boy looked down upon Blank with complete and utter shock. He’d known his visitor to have been poor company and occasionally violent, but Damon was flabbergasted at the ingratitude.

“You… you almost killed me,” the boy managed incredulously. Damon had not been alive for all that long, but in his brief experience he had never imagined that someone could be so cruel. All that he had been trying to do was to rescue a former assailant from what would have certainly been a grizzly death, and in exchange this was all he got.

The boy picked himself up, paying little attention to the dust he unsettled as his eyes welled up. With a quavering lip, Damon dropped his machete and sat down on a nearby rock. The boy then folded his arms over his chest and began to cry.

“I won’t help you now,” he said morosely. “You’re going to have to go and die now, because you don’t know how to be a proper guest…”

Damon was completely and utterly despondent, he couldn’t believe that his guest would be this challenging, and that he would be left with no other option but to watch as the inconsiderate man fell off from a cliff. There was nothing else the boy could do, if he were to attempt to help Blank, it was very likely that he would be greeted with another attack from the staff. “No he’ll just hit me again,” Damon thought, reminding himself that he couldn’t go back and help his guest.

Most tragic of it all, was now Damon doubted he’d be able to keep his battle. After all, if he couldn’t be a good host, it was very unlikely that the Ai’bron monks would have seen it fit to endow him with such responsibility.

“Why did I ask for the best battle?” the boy thought. True, he’d come with the right clothes and certainly looked the part, but he might have been better off trying to get a different battle that didn’t come along with a lunatic. The boy sighed a sigh of both of regret and self pity. It was an utter shame.

The monks above looked on curiously. They had remembered the name Damon Kaosi from before, but they found this boy now fighting in their arena to be someone completely different. The young brigand they had known from the past had killed with projected malice, and been the only one to ever hack a Citadel participant beyond the point of repair. This new combatant seemed completely different. While they couldn’t be sure, it looked like the boy before them was completely bereft of hate.

[Lighthawk76]

Blank moved quickly as he felt the boy fall and trip over his staff. He made two rolls away from the cliff edge, pulling his legs up under him and coming up to a crouched position. He put the staff between himself and Damon, prepared for the kid, though a little amazed at coming so close to death, to attack him head on with that machete.

He had to find a way to get that machete away from him. Even if the kid was inexperienced, flailing that thing around would most definitely hurt at least one of them. His worn staff would also not be able to deal with constant hits from a sharpened blade, and if he became unarmed, well… his skin would most definitely not be able to deal with any hits from a sharpened blade.

As he thought over how he could disarm his opponent, he saw Damon sit down and begin crying despondently on a nearby rock. He crouched there, wondering what to do, suddenly forgetting about how to disarm the kid as he was yet again set with the trouble of deciding exactly how to deal with him. Sitting there, his arms crossed on his chest, tear dripping down his face, he looked just like some kid who had failed some task. They all treated it as if it was the biggest failure in the world, and nothing could be done to remedy it.

What had he been trying to do though? Wasn’t he trying to beat Blank? He had come at him with a machete, and he had responded just as he should have when Blank had first attacked him. So what had he failed in?

As he stood up, wondering about it, Damon gave what may have been an answer more perplexing than the question. Damon was going to let him die because he had been an improper guest? Damon was trying to kill him; the machete was still in his hand.

Thinking back on what had happened, though, Blank saw what it may have been. The kid had been trying to save him from falling. Damon actually had saved him, calling out to him before he had taken that fatal plunge. The machete though… Why the machete?

Then he thought about how the boy had acted. This had been the best battle he had ever been in. He had said his other battles weren’t as windy, almost as if he was trying to impress him. He had called the battle his. He had said that Blank had been an improper guest.

The truth hit him hard. Watching this boy cry on his rock, he felt a little sorry. He has no idea what a battle is. He didn’t think that fighting would have to happen in it. Blank felt awful. He had come near to trying to beat some kid, who wanted nothing than to have a battle; something he must have thought was a toy or great trinket. Then Blank had come in, and shattered that innocent thought by being a bad guest. The kid must have thought he had done something wrong, that wouldn’t let him get his battle.

Blank smiled as he brought down his staff, looking at the kid with a mixture of awe and pity. In a way, the kid knew very little about the world, something that would get him killed sooner or later. At the same time, he was an innocent, something that Blank could relate to. He couldn’t remember a whole portion of his life, he was innocent to a whole set of life experiences. Something like this battle could have been stopped if he just had enough experience, if he just had his memory.

A tear came to his eye. He blinked it away quickly. He rarely cried over his missing memories. Only when he saw the joy that it brought, and the hurt that came with not having it. Maybe the kid was better off with no memory of battle though. Innocence could be precious. Innocence, as Damon showed clearly, didn’t allow hate to breed.

“You win the battle Damon,” he said, “Next time though, make sure you know what you’re getting into. A battle isn’t always that much fun.” It was lesson he had learned on the road. A bandit had been killed by his staff. It wasn’t something he liked remembering.

“Hey monks!!” he yelled to the ceiling, “Get us out of here!!”

[INDK]

Damon didn’t know what to say when Blank approached him. The boy had been too wrapped up in self pity to notice that his guest had managed to save himself, and even if he had noticed, it would have been unlikely that Damon would have chosen to act. The battle for him had been lost right up unto that moment.

Now, the boy smiled broadly once again, his chest puffing out ever so slightly as if he’d just been awarded the LCC trophy right then and there. “I- I- won my battle?” he asked incredulously, eyes as wide as saucers. Damon barely knew what to think. Was this a dream? Could anything this miraculous actually occur? While he hadn’t been alive long enough to know with much certainty, the newborn was more than certain that it wasn’t often that success was snatched from the jaws of defeat.

“OH THANK YOU!” he cried, overzealous in his gratitude. Damon would have hugged Blank had he known that to be the proper etiquette, but as it was, the child merely trembled in his gratefulness. Though his lack of experience rendered him unable of knowing for certain, Damon was convinced that he had just experienced the most altruistic event in the entire world.

The left wall began to disintegrate, and an exit soon appeared. A pair of monks entered the room, not sure as to what to make of this event. Unlike Blank, the name Damon Kaosi was not unknown to them, but this jubilant boy certainly was. They remembered a savage fighter who had taken his craft to the Theatre of War, a young warrior so blinded by rage and hatred that the Citadel had been an asylum from reason. This child before them was full of love, misguided and confused, but full of love no less.

“How do I bring my battle with me to the LCC?” the boy now asked, wiping the remainder of the tears out from his eyes as he looked on towards the two monks. “Blank says I won it, that means I did right?”

The two monks looked at each other for a moment, trying to figure what would be the better answer. Damon Kaosi had always been a master of light, so when it came to manipulating appearances there were few better outside the Citadel’s walls. As so, the monks knew they could not know this stranger’s identity for sure. “Best to get him out of here,” they agreed telepathically.

“Your battle will be delivered- by mail,” the senior monk spoke as the other went to tend to Blank. “You need not worry about it.”

That was all Damon needed. Now that he didn’t have to worry about it, he would be fine. It had not occurred to the boy that the monk had not asked for an address, or that he didn’t even have one in the first place. All that mattered to Damon was that his battle had been deservedly won. After all the trouble he had gone through, it was only right. Whether it was brought to him by a male or a female made no difference.

“You can leave the Citadel now, we’ll make sure you get it,” the monk continued, making sure that the potentially dangerous boy would be outside of their walls.

“Okay…” Damon said agreeably. “I’ll have it for the LCC, right?”

“Yes… yes certainly,” the monk replied, as he now began to push at the boy’s shoulder, suggesting that Damon leave.

“Great,” Damon agreed. He smiled brightly. Soon, he would be in Lornius and then champion of the LCC.

[Lighthawk76]

Blank could only smile wider as he watched the boys face light up. The kid was so innocent. Letting him win something like this was no great gift or anything, but from his expression, it appeared to be one of the most amazing things anyone had done to him.

He still wasn’t sure if this was the right thing to do. Maybe beating some sense into the kid would have been the better option. Before he could let his mind wander down that path two monks entered into their battle arena. They both seemed to be exceedingly agitated over something, specifically something to do with Damon. He watched as words were exchanged between the elder of the two monks and Damon as the younger came over to tend to any wounds Blank may have had.

He wasn’t very happy with how the monks were dealing with the kid. Just explain to him what a battle is! It was something he should have done himself. Leaving the kid like this might even make him want to go “get” another battle. On top of that they seemed very anxious to see the boy leave. The younger monk was being a veritable interrogator in order to make sure that Blank was unharmed. Besides one of two scratches obtained from his near suicidal roll, he was fine. The kid though was getting less than a look over and told to leave.

As Blank watched the boy exit, the monk finally became satisfied with Blank’s status, recommending that he wash the scratches and keep them clean, like he needed to take care of a couple scratches.

“Umm, excuse me,” he said before the Monk could lead him out of the room, “Do you all, uh, know Damon?”

“That’s nothing you need to worry about. Do you need any help out?”

Blank simply asked to be led back to the lobby, and dropped the matter, the monk apparently very touchy about the issue.


* * *

“Well, the great fighter has returned.”

Blank wasn’t surprised to see Alan waiting for him in the lobby. The old man was leaning against the sign-in counter, having just finished talking with one of the monks.

“Did you see it all?”

“Of course I did,” said Alan, smiling knowingly, “But I’m not yet sure if you have just done one of the most altruistic acts I have witnessed in this Citadel, or turned down a very, very easy victory.”

“What would you have said if I had given the boy a thrashing?”

“Well, we’ll never know if you were truly capable of it, but if you had, I would have called you one of the lowest pieces of trash I had ever traveled with.” The old man smiled slyly, and began walking away from the counter. “Come on, we’ll be leaving in the morning, and I want to spend the last night with something young and supple.”

“I thought we were going to stay for a while so you could get in touch with some contacts.”

“Plans change. You should be ready to roll with the punches.”

As they made their way through the labyrinth of the citadel’s hallways, and out into the air of Radasanth, another question came into Blank’s head.

“Alan, what is the LCC?”

“Ah-ha, my young companion, apparently you have found our change of plans. We have a long road ahead of us, and not much time to cover it. I will explain the Lornius Corporate Challenge to you, and the wonders that await you there, on the way.” With that, Alan began weaving his way through the streets, expertly moving between the clumps of people and towards the tavern in which they were staying.

Left with more questions, Blank followed, knowing he would soon be lost in more ways than one.

[Sword-for-Hire]

This was an awesome read. Not the best battle, but the characters and the way they interacted was very cool. I really enjoyed it and now onto the judging!!

Lighthawk76

Introduction: This was easy to follow and see that you had established Alan as a close friend. What I would've liked better would've been some sort of an clue or short sentence as to where or why he met him. By the end of the first post, I could see the connection between the two, but it would've been much better with some quick reflection of who he was, since he was part of the story. (6)

Setting: This was alright. Nothing bad, but nothing amazing. Your description of the arena took me a couple of tries to picture, but I think I got a decent visual of it. I did like the incorporation of the cliff and how it was used though. (6)

Strategy: This was a great part done by both of you. How Blank reacted to a young boy in a battle and his fear of the unknown was very real. And how Damon treated Blank they way a small child would act was great. The actions you two made really brought this thread together. (8.5)

Writing Style: Very well done. Not very many mistakes and the story was flowing smoothly. Your sense of light comedy really blends well with the way you portray Blank. (8.5)

Rising Action: I would imagine this was where he almost fell off the cliff. You could've had something great here, but it fell short a bit. Right about here, the flow got choppy and some of the writing was a bit confusing. The continuous rolling didn't feel natural or perhaps his thoughts were very quick in comparison to the rolling, but in the sense that he was rolling while all of that happened just didn't feel right. The only part of the rolling that felt right was when it mentioned it was thought quickly. (6)

Dialogue: This was pretty good. I enjoyed the comments made by Alan and the way Blank's talk with the monk went. All of it felt very natural and nothing was forced. (7.5)

Climax: For the way the battle went, I'd say this was more on the lines with Damon's character, but the way Blank reacted was good. I had a feeling I knew what he'd do and you delivered. (7)

Character: I enjoyed seeing a fairly weak but determined fighter for once. The balance of complete fear with nerves of steel in the face of danger brought Blank to life in a battle against an innocent child. I thought it was very funny and think you will go far with him. (8.5)

Conclusion: This was well done as well. The allusion to the LCC being their next target and Blank's uneasy feeling about his mentor left me satisfied but still eager to see what happens next. Good job. (7.5)

Wild Card: All in all, I think you did a great job. Keep it up and your character will really grow. Just watch out for getting stuck at choppy parts. (7.5)

Total: 73

INDK

Introduction: This was slightly confusing at first, since I was unaware OOCly that Damon was now a child, but once it was mentioned, I got into the story very quickly. I really loved the way he just didn't know anything and waltzed about the place, but a reason behind him joining the LCC would've been mcuh better. (7)

Setting: Fairly well done, but nothing amazing. I didn't see much use of the arena besides Damon blaming the wind for him tripping and the cliff, but it wasn't anything too bad. (7)

Strategy: See Lighthawk's comments. (8.5)

Writing Style: As always, the story was smooth and easy to read. You did however, have quite a few more technical mistakes than normal and I tribute that to either you overlooking them or whatever word document you're using as not catching the improper use of the words. (6)

Rising Action: Damon's reaction to the all to obvious death of Blank was well done. I really loved the way he used his machete as a last ditch effort in trying to save the clueless fighter. (8)

Dialogue: Very well done. He sounded just like any naive child would and the way people talked to him was equally as good. I did feel it was a bit much at times (sort of cliché), but all in all, it worked out fine. (8)

Climax: Well I certainly didn't see this coming. I thought he might break into a "hissy fit" or something to that nature. His sudden decline of interest in his "guest" was still a great choice to run with; and his crying on a rock with his back to the attacker. You did a wonderful job making me feel sad for the poor kid, seeing as he felt he wouldn't get his "battle". (8.5)

Character: Way to go on making a totally different Damon. His childish mannerisms and actions were all wonderful. I was completely in shock as to how he was acting to every little thing, things we all take for granted and never think twice about in the real world or in RPing. At times, it seemed a tad forced, but I'd say for the most part, you did a great job. (9)

Conclusion: Very nice. I felt actually happy that he was happy, but slightly sad that the monks were pushing him out like he was a ticking time bomb. Maybe he was, but it was still mean, heh. Nice to way pull at the heart strings. (8.5)

Wild Card: You did a good job establishing the new Damon and I can't wait to see him grow. (8)

Total: 78.5

INDK wins the battle!

INDK gains 514 exp and 200 gp!
Lighthawk76 gains 73 exp and 180 gp!

[Thoracis]

EXP and GP added!