Shades of Gray - Open

[Artifex Felicis]

((Cookie to whoever knows the band. Also, silly battle. Have at ye!))

"You can't really beat the classics."

Leon strolled around the arena with some appreciation of the monk's work. He liked the Citadel, and he liked to try an give credit wherever due. Some of the walls were crumbling, many of the seats of the coliseum were broken and shattered and the sky over head looked more real then outside of the Citadel. It was an excellent rendition of an old coliseum. Well suited for a battle, especially due to the rather large graffiti on the walls proclaiming it to be a hunted place, where ghosts roamed and skeletons came back to fight once again.

He sat down in the warm and soft sand, removing his jacket and shirt. There were small sweat stains beginning to form, and his hair was beginning to get slick. The arena was wide and round, covered in soft sand with the occasional rusted weapon. He tried to pick up a spear only to find it crumbled to dust when gravity took its toll. Didn't really matter. He wasn't in the Citadel for a serious battle, training his skills with a weapon. The boy was there for the burn in his muscles, and the thrill of the last moments of a hunt. Not as good as the real thing, but close enough.

[Death's Nephew]

((Brownie points to who names this band as well. ^_^. Oh, and have at ye!))

Training.

He was always in need of it. The world outside this realm of the living did little to improve his skills beyond a certain point, since most of his opponents were broken of spirit once their bodies were no longer a part of them. All they had was blind rage and denial. Fun emotions to play with, but hardly useful as an experience builder.

Now on Althanas, busy with a quest to help a barbarian succeed in his own goals and to turn Tommy into the possible successor of his uncle, Death, the young half specter walked boldly through the Citadel doors once more. Instantly two monks recognized him and gave him the “evil eye”.

I thought all were welcome…psh.

His last visit had been a failure. An experiment in a new style of fighting had gone awry when things had gotten boring and the audience, watching his “team battle” against a large number of enemies one after another, had lost their interest. He and his partner were booted out faster than they could ask for a drink of water.

And here he stood, coldly requesting a new fight. His confidence in their judgmental eyes seemed to give him the leeway to avoid another monk sized kick in the ass out the grand Citadel doors. “Very well. We have just the room for you.” The monk seemed to be making a half-assed attempt at hiding a smirk, which didn’t sit well with Tommy. Instantly judging the man, he knew him to be a prick. An evil prick at that. Unfortunately, all he could do was use his ability to see into this person’s soul, knowing full well that the asshole in front of him could snap him like a fat chick sitting on a toothpick.

Not good times.

“You know the drill, correct?” The dick of a monk inquired.

“Yup.” Tommy said, shoving past him rudely, throwing open the door and stepping through without any regard for his safety.

The door slammed behind him and gone from sight. A warm, sandy wind licked the edges of his snow white hair and played with his leather jacket, tossing the edges around, dancing with the material. In front of him, about by about thirty yards…stood a cat…thing.

“Uh…” he began to say. Realizing what the monk had meant, he muttered, “F*ckin’ douche bag.”

Shifting uncomfortably in the sand, he noticed broken and rusted weapons half buried in the ground. Eyeing a particularly rusted knife, he noted it and the rest of the edged blades hiding around them were a dangerous biohazard. No clue if the magic of the Citadel walls would speed up the process of infection and kill them within minutes, but Tommy was in no rush to find out. Breaking himself free of his overly active mind, he eyed the cat-guy in front of him and sighed. He didn’t look very strong, but it was better than some bum in the street.

“Yo. You ready to get this on….um…guy?” Tommy asked with a shake of his head. He left his sword and daggers sheathed. He couldn’t find a weapon on his opponent, so he figured he’d become stronger if he fought on the same ground as the…cat.

Hope he doesn’t try and use my leg for a scratching post…

[Artifex Felicis]

((Feel free to minerly bunny Leon's attacks and suff, just get on AIM about anything that serious))

The man fighter was there quickly, and Leon stood in the sand with a wide grin. No wind was there to add any undue sand into the cat boy's features. He wore no shoes, enjoying the feeling of the nicely warmed ground between his toes and heat on his bare chest. He walked forward a couple steps towards his black clad opponent, a wide grin on his face. It wasn't often he got a chance to fight an opponent who was polite enough to get his attention before hand. Stupid thing to do in real life, but it was another plus of the Citadel.

"Ready as ever man," Leon said aloud. There was considerable distance between the two, and Leon began to close it. Slowly at first with hands in pockets, until he ran towards the boy. He didn't have anything on him that wasn't all natural, and that he left inside his paws. He would pull that out when the time came.

He skidded as he came closer to the still weaponless kid, swinging a leg around in a wider arc. His pant leg slid down a little as his leg flew, revealing a rather feline paw instead of the normal human foot. The cat boy grinned, hands holding the sand tightly as he braced for impact or for his hand to hit the soft sand.

[Death's Nephew]

Tommy yawned a little as he listened to the response and rubbed his eye a bit. This was going to be boring. A brawl with fists could be fun, but he wasn’t feeling like it would be this time around.

Until he noticed that the cat-guy was fast as lightning.

Literally throwing himself out of the way and rolling onto his right shoulder in the and, narrowly avoiding half a blade of an ancient battle axe. He got to his feet quickly and ignored the bits of dust slowly making its way down the side of his shirt and jacket. This guy was a lot more formidable than he originally thought apparently.

Ok…let’s see how good he really is.

Since the cat monstrosity had claws on either end of his appendages, he was clearly able to use weapons. He hadn’t noticed the paws for feet, but couldn’t exactly say he was completely surprised either. Since arriving to Althanas…he’d seen a lot of weird shit. This was now slowly creeping up his “Top 10 Weird Shit” list.

Without a verbal warning to his feline friend, his left fist suddenly ignited with an emerald blaze. The fire licked at the sky above his fist, waiting for a chance to burn something with its unbridled passion for death. Tommy sometimes thought it had a mind of its own, but figured it was only wishful thinking. It seemed to be edging him on to attack straight on, even though the cat-thing was already set for Tommy to retaliate. Thinking quickly, he agreed on a plan with his eager “buddy” agreeing to it.

To avoid feeling insane, he just rationalized that he was excited and it was his own adrenaline driving him to this odd point.

With his conscious safely in tow, he charged down to the ten yard gap between them, his left hand in a tight fist, completely engulfed in flames. At about five yards he saw his plan lying in the sand and kicked it hard, hoping it wouldn’t burst into a dust. To his good fortune, it didn’t…but it wasn’t exactly what he was hoping for either.

The half sword resting peacefully in the sand was sent rocketing from its warm bed and through the sunny air towards furry boy, but fell apart like an old wagon tumbling down a rocky hillside. By the time it would reach him, little more than the edge of the hilt would remain, but Tommy didn’t care. He was hoping for it to work as a distraction.

As soon as he kicked it, he pumped his left arm twice, as if punching the air in front of him. Two fist sized balls of fire rocketed towards the cat, going almost side by side with one a little higher than the other. If it connected, it would more than likely knock the wind out of him and seriously burn his bare upper torso. If it missed…Tommy could be in for a world of hurt.

[Artifex Felicis]

Leon kept his balance, watching the other man with care so he would not strike that quickly against him. He balanced himself quickly on the sand, and watched with care. He didn't so much as move his tail until his younger opponent twitched, a hand full of flame as he kicked an old weapon towards him. He moved to the side easily enough, but the flames that flew from his fingers Leon did not expect.

He ducked the first easily enough, but the second burned the tip of his shoulder badly, as if a wooden hammer were suddenly smashed into him, and it was on fire. He hissed in annoyance, and moved forward, trying to to move his left arm much due to the burn and the smell of meat being cooked.

His other paw scooped down and picked up some sand, throwing it in the same motion towards the kid. Leon charged after claw drawn on his good arm and leaped into the air. He didn't come down on the boy, but a few feet in front of him instead, sending a shower of the warm sand at him. It brought a smile to the cat boy's face, and he quickly moved to the side, hopefully out of the way of any blind fire balls.

[Death's Nephew]

As the second fire ball connected, Tommy felt a twinge of excitement. He might actually be able to beat this weird thing. It was amazingly fast. Faster than any soul he’d encountered in the Underworld or the gates of Hell. His joy was short lived however, as he ducked his head and closed his eyes to avoid a cheap sand toss.

As he knelt, he let his hand de-flame and pulled both daggers from their sheaths, releasing them from their leather prisons. Only one blade called out to him, hungry for blood. The other stood silent, an empty plynt tool. He still wasn’t sure if it was himself doing the craving or if the dagger did harbor some malignant entity, but he rarely let the idea cause him worry. He had a cat to skin.

By the time he was ready to launch another attack, the quick bastard was already landing in front of him, an explosion of sand and rotten bits of a staff announcing his arrival. Crying out in frustration, he roared, “You sonofabitch!” He slashed wildly, all around him. This was different from darkness. He could see through the veil of a shadow, but sand in his eyes was a whole different level of annoyance.

As he let his blades eat up the air around him, he tried to focus on the breathing, heartbeat, or even the swishing of the cat’s tail. He’d often attacked angry spirits with his eyes closed, hoping to improve his close quarters combat without the use of sight.

But all he could hear was the soft wind blowing in his ear and the enraged thundering of his own heart.

He’d been a foe to be reckoned with in the pitch black of night; his name apparently reached the ears of angels and demons. Instead of living up to his own reputation, he was thrashing about like some wild animal, ignorant to the obvious stupidity of his plan.

Up here, in the sun…he was like a fish out of water.

[Artifex Felicis]

the boy in front of Leon was amusing to say the very least. He was blinded and hampered, but rather then slink back or try to fix his eyes like most, he attacked. The blind attacks were funny, and more amusing then most things the cat boy had seen in a while. It was like watching a cornered fox or mouse try to fight back when it realized that there was nowhere left to run.

He picked up one of the sword hilts on the ground, the blade no longer attached. It was tossed over the boy, so it landed with a louder thump on the ground. It was almost mean to do something like that, but playing with an opponent was often as fun as the battle itself. He kept silent as he moved, the sand under his feet hardly noticeable by his steps until he was a couple to the side.

He bent down low and careful, extending the claws on his right hand and letting the sun gleam on the somewhat shiny bone. He couldn't even begin to count the time he relied on his claws, and he couldn't imagine life without them. The cat boy leaned forward, taking a swipe at one of the other boy's ankles with his claw and nearly fell over from the sudden pain in his shoulder from the burn. He stayed upright for a moment, then bounded back, licking his paw and rubbing the irritated burn. It began to flare up whenever he even moved his arm now.

[Death's Nephew]

Slicing the air might sound cool, the repeating whooshes confirming your speed, but it did little to satisfy the ego when you actually had a target in mind.

Tommy could almost feel the possible smirk on his opponent, watching him silently as the young fighter failed to regroup his thoughts and command his actions logically. It was when he felt a sharp swipe hit the side of his shin, a few inches above his right ankle, and heard the sound of sand being displaced to his side by a few feet. The ca-boy had given away his position, why was beyond Tommy’s understanding, but he decided to capitalize on it, even as he fell to the ground from the semi-deep gash in his shin.

He threw the plynt dagger in the direction of the sound, hoping he was aiming low enough for a waist high shot. As he fell, he sheathed his still enraged steel, and grabbed a fist full of sand with one hand and rubbed it vigorously on his leg. It would slow the bleeding and hoped the salt content would keep infection from settling in.

Maybe there’s rust in the sand?

He sure as Hell hoped not. Either way, the bleeding was slowing down. Scrambling away to a wall in the soft floor beneath him, he used his other hand to clear his eyes and blinked way to many times for a straight man. He noted that killing something fiercer looking than the cat-thing would qualify as a suitable balance after this fight was over. Whatever it was, he couldn’t care less; manly looking woman, manly looking kid, manly looking baby, all acceptable.

Reaching the slightly warm stone wall, he pulled out Hexfire and held it with both hands defensively. He knew this thing was fast. He just hoped his own speed and back to the wall would be enough to save him from this embarrassing setback on his road to becoming the next bringer of death.

[Artifex Felicis]

The dagger flew towards Leon's distraction, and fell with a softer sound in the sand farther away. He cursed himself inwardly for not crippling the boy by cutting his ankle. He was close, but not nearly close enough for that one shot. Still, it was almost worth seeing the dagger go flying away from him. It probably would have sailed over his head anyway.

He waited on his back paws and forearms, watching as his opponent made a makeshift bandage from the sand and ran. When he stood at his defensive position, there was also now a large sword in his hand, and something the cat boy would actually need to watch for. He began to walk forward. At first he was on all fours, looking every part like the big hunting cat. He rose, walking on two legs as he kept wicked claws out and ready to cut at the kid in front of him.

His tail swished from side to side behind him, and he didn't bother to hide his presence. On another day he might have tried to beat him with swordplay, but the rusted weapons prevented that. He smiled, keeping sharp and pointy teeth ready to tear at the other kid's flesh. He stopped along the way, putting on his jacket with a small flourish. He had all the time in the world right now.

He kept his grin, suddenly charging a second time with what could have been taken for a growl or a purring noise. The cat boy neared in moments, swiping with his good paw. His other still hurt, and his jacket's fabric hurt somewhat, but it would be worth wearing it simply for the look on the kid's face.

[Death's Nephew]

Sweat dripped down the side of his sandy face, his white hair mussed on his forehead was a minor annoyance he did his best to ignore, and the sun beat on his twitching dark eyes. The cat-boy was toying with him…like he was a mouse. Hot anger flashed through his body, adrenaline pumping fiercely through his veins. He was about to launch an attack on the overconfident fighter when before he had a chance to move a boot, the freak was right in front of him.

Fear or instinct took over and he tried to sway his body out of the strike’s path, but this thing was too fast to be avoided. An incredibly strong paw whacked the side of his head, claws tearing a gash in the side of his skull. He flew to his left, landing face first in the sand, blood dripping slowly from his ringing cranium. Without even knowing what was going on, he was back on his feet, leaning to his left, his body not responding completely. The look on his face exhumed that of utter hopelessness. But the grip he had on his daggers said otherwise.

What..?

His sword lay sticking out of the sand, hilt bathed in sunlight. At some point between flying through the air ten feet and getting up, he had drew his daggers. He took short, shallow breaths, blood and sweat flowing from either side of his face to meet at his chin and jump together into the world below them. The dagger in his right hand, his steel dagger that his mother had bought before he was born, hummed violently. It was seething with rage; Tommy was almost afraid of it. His right eye twitched involuntarily as he looked back at his opponent. How much time had passed since the last attack? He couldn’t even begin to tell. He could hardly stand on his own.

But the blade screamed with rage. The sound was almost ear piercing, causing Tommy to wonder if it wasn’t just in his head. Within the waves of howls and snarls vibrating with growing intensity, the young half-specter heard a voice, drenched with hatred and malice, in the back of his head.

“Kill him you pathetic little shit! You really expect to become the next bringer of death by being this weak?!”

Tommy’s eyes steadied on his opponent. With movements he could not call his own, he charged full speed, twice as fast as he normally could. The entire world seemed to be on auto-pilot. He felt like he was watching everything from a farther perspective, a spectator rather than a participant.

His attack was reckless but quick. He couldn’t imagine seeing this work out well, but his body, or the voice, was in control now. His blades swung high and low, the right arm in a horizontal swipe for the neck, the left aiming for a kidney. If he missed, this could very well be the end of the fight.

[Artifex Felicis]

The cat boy twirled after his blow, tail streaming around him in an arc that just barely missed thumping his opponent. His claws, or at least the very end, tingled at little at the force. It was soft, almost more like a caress the the aftereffects of hitting something. It nearly made up for the irritated burn that continued to annoy him in his shoulder.

He kept a careful eye for the white haired kid, in case he suddenly tried something sneaky. There wasn't much, a rather large amount of frustration for one thing was plainly obvious, and possibly quite a bit of anger as well. It only made Leon enjoy the moment more. There wasn't many opportunities that someone fought the cat boy without Leon having to resort to more primal instincts.

His charge was a little surprising though, at the very least its speed was. The sudden spurt caught the cat boy off balance, and he could not have dodged the blades even if he wanted to. Though, when someone was getting just that close to him, he had more then just two weapons. The higher swing struck the boy's raised forearm, cutting into the material and clanging off of a metal plate within. The other shot managed to cut flesh, though the cat boy's hurt hand was able to divert most of the blow. Before a drop from his hand began to fall, his open maw went towards the kid's neck and the killing blow.

[Death's Nephew]

When he heard the clang and the sensation of flesh tearing, he could honestly say he felt his soul crumple. He was expecting it, but it was like waiting for a boulder to crush you as you stand stuck on the hillside, unable to move from its path.

You see it coming. You get ready.

It doesn’t hurt any less.

As the bite sank into his neck like it was made of cheese, he screamed silently, most likely because a vocal chord was ripped, bleeding into his lungs. He coughed, choked, and went limp. Adrenaline gone, his heart beating gradually slowing down, his eyes fluttering with stubborn resistance; he could almost hear the blade laughing at the metal barrier that had deprived it of the life it wanted to take. Apparently Tommy’s slow death was an ample consolation prize.

Damn sonofabitch bastard…

And finally, his body went limp against the cat-boy.

***

“Did you enjoy your battle?” A new monk sat at the front check-in, obviously unaware of Tommy’s very recent demise.

“No.” He said simply as he continued walking away from the recovery room. He had no intention of sticking around to talk to his opponent. He had been killed by a cat. He didn’t feel like rubbing salt in the wound by getting pity from “kitty eyes”.

“Come back again!” The monk shouted, waving a cheerful hand at the disgruntled teen. Must be new. Tommy thought as he flipped him the finger. He knew it wasn’t his fault, but any monk would do at this point. Even the happy go lucky asshole still waving at the half-specter, oblivious to what the middle finger meant.

He made the same gesture and began waving it back as Tommy pushed open the front door and grimaced as the sunlight touched his face. The young man grinned as he heard someone roar in anger at the gesture the monk was merrily tossing around at every passerby.

“You suck.”

Tommy thought for a moment after the blade had said that. Shrugging, knowing he was still wet behind the ears compared to the much more seasoned fighters of Althanas, he casually said, “That the best you got?”

A skinny man apparently warming up for a fight regarded the teen with curiosity. In his eyes, he was talking to thin air. Catching his gaze, Tommy glared at him until the man moved on, suddenly prepared for his fight and no longer in need to stretch his muscles.

“….Maybe we can work with this.” The dagger said half sincerely.

“Blow it out your ass, pal.” He said as he shoved his hands in his jacket pockets and left the Citadel, hoping to reach Radasanth for a night club he had seen flyers for on the way here. A nice drink and some loose women might just be what the doctor ordered.


((Thanks for the battle! Submit it when you’re ready man!))

[Artifex Felicis]

The cat boy only bit down twice after the supple flesh gave way beneath his sharp, strong teeth. They hit with a surprisingly loud clack. His arm came up and tore out the rest of the boy's throat. The claws passed through cleanly and without much trouble. He did not completely sever the bones, but came close enough so that only the Citadel's monks could save him from certain death.

A furred hand came up, wiping most of the blood from his chin and face. He spat out the lump of meat that was formally the kid's throat. The boy's heavy body slumped against his, and he held it gently with an almost savage look on his face. His mind was focused on rather benign matters. Namely the patches he would need to put in his jacket to cover the small rip that has been created on his jacket by the boy's blade. He handed the dying boy over to two of the monks who had rushed over to pick him up. They immediately began to weave their spells, preventing the last of his life from leaving his body.

Another monk approached the cat boy while the boy was being taken care of, casting another spell that cleaned Leon of his opponent's blood and grime of the arena. He could actually feel the blood disappearing from his body, and dirt leaving from between his toes as the spell worked its way around. After perhaps a minute or so passed, The monk smiled almost stupidly and handed the cat boy his white shirt and an envelope.

"We received this just before you came in," the monk explained. He rubbed his hands together, breathing into them as if they were chilled. For all Leon knew, they were from the magic he had just used. "The letter itself comes from the newly reopened Dajas Pagoda in Scara Brae. It is an invitation to join as a master."

A thin, wicked claw extended from his paw, and cut carefully through the paper and revealing its contents. He took it out, reading the squiggly handwriting slowly. A smile slowly began to creep across the cat boy's face until he seemed like he was grinning from ear to ear. He thanked the monk who handed him the letter and fixed his clothes. He left the Citadel at a brisk pace, whistling a little with the letter stuffed into hi s pocket. He needed to get on a boat for the Scara Brae soon.

[Amaril Torrun]

Artifex Felicis

Story

Continuity - 5 - You gave me a brief, cliché reason for Leon to come to the Citadel. I wanted more. In the ending of the battle, you tied the thread in more with Leon’s storyline by receiving the letter.

Setting - 6 - You described the setting pretty well, but you occasionally ignored it to focus more on actions.

Pacing - 8 - You paced this battle very quickly, in a good way.

Character

Dialogue - 7 - If there was more dialogue, this might have earned even higher. I’m not saying that he should start an epic speech after every move, but I would have liked to see a bit more. You did very well with what Leon did say or think.

Action - 8 - Leon’s actions were fitting. I could easily see something with cat blood acting the way he did. Also, throwing that clump of sand into Tommy’s face was a creative, simple, and believable move.

Persona - 5 - I didn’t really gain any knowledge about Leon from this thread except that he likes the occasional battle.

Writing Style

Mechanics - 4 - You tend to overuse commas to create run-on sentences. You also forgot some commas at times they were needed. You also forgot to capitalize the first word of the first sentence in post seven. Overall, these types of errors made the writing look rushed.

Technique - 6 - You’re a good writer, but you didn’t really invoke any emotions from me.

Clarity - 6 - There were a few times that I had to go back and reread, but nothing too halting.

Wild Card - 5 - This was a quick, fun battle for you, though I think you could have done better.

-----------------------------------------------

Death’s Nephew

Story

Continuity - 5 - I got a feel for his past experiences with the Citadel and using that past experience upon returning helped you out. Your reasons for returning weren’t well described though.

Setting - 6 - See Artifex’s setting.

Pacing - 7 - See Artifex’s pacing, though I felt that you put an end to the battle prematurely.

Character

Dialogue - 9 - You’re dialogue really pulled Tommy together as a character.

Action - 4 - Tommy acted naturally and interacted with the environment. Something I found odd was that he didn’t seem to react to the pain when his ankle got attacked or put the sand in the wound, which would sting pretty badly. Tommy threw his one of his daggers at Leon, but during the next post you said that he was still holding onto both of them. You need to stay consistent with previous posts.

Persona - 8 - I can easily tell who Tommy is from this battle, though I found myself asking about his past throughout the thread from hints created, such as when he wonders about his “conscious” dagger.

Writing Style

Mechanics - 6 - You need to look out for things like “Fun emotions to play with, but hardly useful as an experience builder.” It almost passes for a complete sentence and I didn’t catch it at first. Putting a “They were” at the front of this sentence would do the trick.

Technique - 8 - Your style of writing is strong, humorous, and easy to follow. Keep up the good work. Things like the fat chick sitting on a toothpick and “he had a cat to skin” are examples of very strong writing in a crisp, amusing way.

Watch out for tense changes such as “He’d been” and “Up here,” which were in the same post.

Also, you ended a few posts with something close to “if he missed, the end would be near.” This weakens the mood that you set throughout the battle and it is fairly obvious that if he misses, his opponent would take the advantage.

Another key point is that you write with different sized sentences. By mixing your posts with short and longer sentences, you make your writing much more inviting to the reader.

Clarity - 7 - I didn’t have to reread as much for you as I did with Artifex, though it did occur.

Wild Card - 7 - You did a great job.


Artifex’s score - 60
Death’s score - 67

Congratulations!

Artifex Felicis gains 518 experience and 200 gold.
Death’s Nephew gains 1725 experience and 200 gold.

If you have any questions, comments, or want to have me hanged, you can reach me via PM or on AIM at loligagerrofl.

[Letho]

EXP/GP added.