Decadence

[Dissinger]

(Izvilvin vs. Seth Dahlios)

Conflicted.

If one word described his life at that moment it would have to be conflicted. He needed to clear his head, and as unfortunate as that was, there was only one place to do so. Moving down the familiar road out of Radasanth he pushed forward his mind keenly focused on the goal. No past, no history would plague him. He'd fight he'd survive and he'd move on. The only reason he fought anymore was a reminder, a way to focus on the pain, and use it to make his decisions.

The voices in his mind seemed to perk up at the thought of battle, even now their insidious rhythm drummed through his head, keeping in time with every step as the all too familiar Ziggurat loomed ahead of him. His hands remained idly on his daggers, the civil war not letting him keep his head down as he would have preferred. Times had changed, and he too had to change now.

Entering the doors of the Ziggurat one of the monks looked up and waved him over, his eyes lighting up as he spoke, "Dahlios, is that truly you?"

"It's been awhile friend, I know. I'm sorry for the delay; things seem to keep getting in the way..." Seth replied as he firmly shook the hand of the nameless monk. Every time he had entered these hallowed halls this monk had helped him, either with clean up post battle or with setting up the battle. It was this that had formed a bond, and while Seth's name was well known, Seth had never sought to learn his friend's name, if only for anonymity's sake.

"A fight, hard, vicious as hell and destructive like no else, I'll get on it..." The monk said jovially as he turned to go. Seth could only chuckle as he shook his head. Too long had he been away, but it was almost as if no time had passed at all. His boisterous days setting the tempo before him, and it was a tempo he was none too keen on changing.

As he waited he flexed his hands in their glove, he trusted the monks, and they, as always, were neutral in the affairs of outsiders. It was this kind of relationship that had allowed the thief to relax when, in any other situation, he risked a hanging. As he heard the monk return he raised his head and strolled after the jovial man. Finally he was brought before a door, the monk merely smiled as he said, "As tough as I could make it Dahlios. I have no doubt you will enjoy the fight, one way or the other. Please, make yourself at home..."

Seth chuckled as he dropped his satchel outside the door, then spoke, "Might want to be careful, let me get comfortable and I'm liable to break something..."

"Material wealth is only a status symbol of the weak. There is nothing in here cannot be easily replaced, antiquity only shows functionality my friend," The monk replied sagely.

"If only I had heard that at a younger age, might not have gotten myself in this mess..."

"Oh don't go there Dahlios, you are going to turn out okay, you're merely in transition. The other side seems too far, but you will get there, even if you were half dead beaten and humiliated, you will reach that far shore."

"Bah, I could talk philosophy with you later; I got a victim to kill..." Seth retorted as he entered, the words echoing in his mind. Was the monk right?

[Izvilvin]

The morning had been frigid, as was typical this time of year in Corone. Mist hovered low to the ground, where thin crystals of ice blanketed the plantlife. The ride from Radasanth to the Citadel was a short one, but Izvilvin took it slow, not wanting to risk his horse should it slip.

His hand clutched the folds of his cloak, a thick brown material which wrapped comfortably around his body. Peering out from the darkness of the hood, lavender eyes watched the Citadel grow ever closer. The Drow could feel his heart racing, anxious for the heat of battle, the forgetfulness that came with a magical arena and the dance of blades. He needed the practice. He needed to be outside of the real world, away from the daggers of assassins... For just a few minutes.

His transition from the Citadel to the arena was quick, as Izvilvin was no less brief in his conversation than he was in dismounting a horse.

It was misty, just like Corone had been. The smell of moss and sap was in this place, mixed with ancient dust and Izvilvin's own sweat. He was standing on a broken platform or stage, one foot on a crumbled mass of grey debris, one foot on a solid slab.

As he got his bearings, Izvilvin concluded that he was standing in the center of a dilapidated citadel or coliseum. The platform he stood upon was more than large enough to hold two moving, quick contenders, were it not so heavily damaged, and rows of stadium seating climbed upward around him. The stone seats were crumbled and covered in green moss, weeds growing between the cracks.

He looked up to an open ceiling, where a dull sun brought light in through a screen of clouds. Jagged edges rimmed the opening, the remains of a roof that had long ago tumbled down. Looking beyond ancient walkways between the rows of seats, Izvilvin could see pathways beyond that suggested there was more to this building than just this centerpiece. He wouldn't have trusted the ground enough to venture down them to explore.

It was a poetic scene for him, the picture of civilization brought down by nature. Truly, as he saw the ivy crawling victoriously over an old throne on an overlooking balcony, Izvilvin thought the green had won and was taking back its land. He wondered how many years had passed since the humanity here had died out. What a story it must have been.

Like an alarm going off in his head, the Drow's instincts had him snapping back to reality. At one end of the crumbling platform, Izvilvin turned to face the opposite side, sensing a tangible disturbance in the air that heralded one's arrival.

[Dissinger]

He closed his eyes as he breathed in deeply. The musty scent of the fog about him enveloped him as he listened, strained his ears for any signs of hidden movement. A muttered curse, a tripping stone, a twig snapping, he listened for anything. Nothing came to him, yet he continued to listen. The sounds of the local wildlife filtering in as the birds chirped, a squirrel chittered off to his right as its tiny claws scraped across stone.

Opening his eyes he took in the sights before him. The crumbled courtyard, the obvious stage for battle set before him. The sanctuary about it crumbling as the works of mother nature even now continued to reclaim what was rightfully its. It was a far cry from the dead lands of Revan, but it was no less deadly. His opponent could be anywhere, or even be showing up just now. He had to be on his toes.

The building he was in had a crumbling wall; the ceiling was already beginning to show holes where the test of time had failed. A balcony showed a throne, overgrown with vines and other flora oversaw the entire battle. A soft snort crossed his mind as he thought back to the old capital of Revan, Kenth. It too was destroyed, but by war, and then taken by vampires, he doubted it rested in such a peaceful state, slowly decomposing as nature won over civilization yet again.

His grey eyes scanned over the area as a gauntleted hand slowly brushed the brown hair from his eyes. Moving about he decided to play the part of the fool today. He would draw his prey out, by becoming that which he hunted, and easy mark. Surely the bravado of his opponent would have him seize the initiative if he strolled out so boldly, so arrogantly.

His boots kicked a rather good sized rock as he strolled towards the central arena looking about for his opponent. Sighing as he did so he listened as the rock skipped across the stony ground, his eyes never ceasing their search before he stopped in clear view of the rest of the arena, and closed his eyes, then raised his arms above his head in the imitation of a stretch, and let out the faux yawn.

Come and get me, he thought to himself as he left himself open.

[Izvilvin]

The Drow's assessment of where his opponent would appear was wrong, but the strange, airy disturbance was now gone. He kept his breath steady, quiet, listening intently for the slightest sound for his sharp hearing to detect. He didn't need to wait long.

Before Seth's boot kicked the rock, intentional or not, Izvilvin's keen hearing picked up on the shuffling of feet to his left. An instant before Seth appeared from behind a nearby wall, the Drow slid silently down the side of the platform to the soft moss below, his head pulled just below the crest of the citadel's centerpiece.

He frowned, his hands deep in an inch of thick, cool mold. From each side of the rectangular platform, there was several feet of flat ground before a barrier separated the battling area from the climbing seats. This was likely a place where a combatant would be considered 'out of bounds', and subsequently killed.

Izvilvin moved stealthily along the ground, his boots dragging rows of moss off the ground to reveal old, grey bricks. He circled the far end of the platform, still well out of Seth's sight, and pulled himself down within an inch of the ground. He swerved around a dilapidated portion of concrete and knew he had a clear path to his opponent, whom he had still not laid an eye upon. Still breathing as moderately as he possibly could, Izvilvin listened to the motions, to what sounded like a yawn. It was distant, but the elf could gauge just how far it was simply from the volume of it.

Pivoting, Izvilvin drew Icicle and Mjolnir from their sheaths, the telltale sound of metal escaping into air rang through the arena. He'd revealed his location, but the compact warrior was already in a run, his eyes locked on the human who stood in the distance.

The human was his height, but thicker - as was typical. Izvilvin saw the balanced, relaxed composure the human had, and knew he was in for something more than a quick assault. Brown hair topped Seth's head, unremarkable compared to Izvilvin's mane of stark white locks.

Two agile leaps brought Izvilvin up a short flight of stairs, the rampaging bolts of Mjolnir dancing atop the blade, Icicle trailing a frigid blue mist. He met Seth in a pathway between the arena and whatever lay beyond, likely a complex similar to Corone Citadel's own. Presenting no visible opening, the Drow feigned a downward strike with Icicle in his left, instead dipping into a half-crouch and sending Mjolnir driving forward hard, the strike arcing downward into a stab poised for the flesh just above Seth's groin.

[Dissinger]

Metal, danger, a flash of steel.

He drew out his opponent. As he opened his eyes he saw the Drow leaping forward upon him, white hair trailing behind him almost distractingly. Eyes were set on him, on the kill. As Seth quickly brought his hands down he quickly thought, Breastplate NOW!

You have to give me more warning than that kid! Came a distant gruff voice. The soul inside the changeling amulet was none other than the infamous Traitor General Karl Dahlios. Taking the form of anything Seth needed, it was a great boon, however, often the general sought every reason to belittle or berate the thief. However, it was Seth's greatest tool for catching people offguard, and so he relied on it perhaps too heavily. The bracelet that had gone unnoticed on his arm began to morph as it turned into quicksilver. Sliding up his arm it started to go over his chest even as Seth began drawing daggers.

The next few moments was almost impossible to see from the naked eye. As Seth dropped under the swinging feint he heard the sound of metal upon metal, and ignoring it he went straight to attack his foe at the wrist sliding up once again to bring his ascent behind the disarming attack. The Drow was barreling into him as he moved quickly and slid past the attacker, letting him by after the quickened blow.

Seth breathed hard as he looked balefully at the Drow. He had barely been quick enough to evade the attack from above. However, as he continued to breath he ventured a look down as he felt an unfamiliar weight around his neck and his eyes widened betraying his surprise. A short sword that had gone undetected in the flurry of events was even now crackling maliciously with energy, that was were the previous clash of metal had come from. Around his neck was a sight he had not seen in perhaps months. The changeling amulet, which held the spirit of his long deceased great grandfather was inactive, hung prominently around his neck. He was screwed.

As he looked at his opponent again he decided to press the advantage as he growled lowly and brought his forehead on a crash course, straight for the Drow's nose. He had to do something while he figured out exactly what happened, and further how to reverse it.

[Izvilvin]

The human reacted quickly, daggers flashing into his hands as Izvilvin pressed his attack. Before the drow's very eyes, a liquid washed over the Seth's torso, reaching his gullet and turning to armor a split-second before Mjolnir met flesh. No matter, Izvilvin thought, for surely the sudden jolt would paralyze his foe for the quick moment he needed to gouge Seth's throat.

Quick as a flash, the crawling lightning of Mjolnir traveled instantly into a place toward the human's neck, so quickly that Izvilvin couldn't follow it. No time to wonder, he realized, as Seth dragged his dagger along Icicle's parallel and slashed for the wrist. A lesser opponent would have had to twist out of the way, opening himself up for an attack at his flank, but Izvilvin lifted the sword out of reach and pivoted only slightly, feet gliding against the stone floor, so that he faced Seth even as the human spun.

Izvilvin hardly seemed unnerved, his breathing perfectly level and calm even after his charge. He kept his swords low, hanging by the tight, composed grip of his calloused hands. The human was wielding daggers, giving Izvilvin the ranged advantage, but the drow knew more than anyone how dangerous a dagger-wielding foe was in close quarters. He wouldn't give Seth the chance to try it, he decided.

Mjolnir crackled malevolently, the sound bouncing off the nearby stone walls. Icicle was the opposite, serene mist eternally drifting from its blade. Izvilvin's ears still rang with the vibrating sound of metal-on-metal, so sensitive were they.

It all happened so quickly, but Izvilvin still anticipated Seth's headbutt as it came. The drow danced backward, well out of the way of the attack, still perfectly balanced on his toes.

With speed unnatural of a dualwielding elf, Izvilvin used the superior range of his short swords to seize the moment. Mjolnir slashed downward from on high, a backhanded blow from his right hand, but with his body turned sideways to minimize Seth's target. On his toes, Izvilvin then dropped down to one knee as quickly as he could, turning to drive Icicle forward low toward the inside of Seth's left hip. Fluid as could be, Izvilvin completed his turn to face Seth once more.

The movement had exposed his back to Seth for a brief moment, but Izvilvin knew the human would be too busy with Mjolnir to capitalize. He moved with elegant grace, and knew he could spring up again at the very first sign of a counterattack from the human.

[Dissinger]

The head butt caught him off guard as he grunted at the failure to connect. The flushing of blood his his face caused a bit of a dizziness to encompass him, and by the time it had cleared the elf was a step back, and already in motion. The crackling blade of energy was enroute as the elf began to spin, and Seth had a choice before him. He could take the hit from the electrical blade, and hope to use the pain later, in return for a free shot, or he could block and hope the elf didn't follow up on the spin.

As he looked at the sword coming ever closer he acted, blocking the sword coming down upon him. As he blocked he could see his opponent's arm in motion, bringing another blade right for his gut. With a sharp inhale he felt the blade begin to cut through the leather of his vest, and through the cloth, most of the momentum seized in that small action, and yet it still punctured skin. Sending a freezing chill through his blood as his face didn't even flinch. As he looked at the Drow looking for his eyes he moved Ebony right for the gut of the elf. He had to use the gambit anyways.

As he did so he felt an overwhelming chill course through his body as the cold of the short sword began to permeate his through him. He shivered from the harsh coldness, far worse than even the Revanian winter as he tried to use his other hand to push the elf away, trying to disengage from the situation. He could only hope he had caught the drow off guard.

[Izvilvin]

Icicle bit in hard, tearing the leather armor and drawing blood. The effect of the sword left an icy ring around the exit wound as Izvilvin pulled back, disengaging from the human as Ebony came in, coming within inches of the drow as he jumped back nimbly.

The dagger, a hard prevalida blade that could have combusted with Izvilvin's enchanted armor, missed by only a small margin - a sure reminder to the drow that he needed to utilize his ranged advantage. His intricate attack had shifted his balance, and he'd nearly paid for it. Now he stood several feet from the human, whose blood had already frozen on the tip of Icicle's razor edge.

Izvilvin thought him an impressive fighter, especially considering the riff-raff he always encountered in the Citadel. He could hardly disguise the smile that crossed his face, so enamored was he with the thrill of the fight. This was indeed the practice he was needing.

Suddenly, without any warning, the wall on the Eastern side of the hall began to crumble. It wasn't toppling on top of them, but rather beginning to collapse behind Seth. They still had plenty of room, but Izvilvin imagined that the sound would be distracting to the human. He didn't think to look past the wall to see what lay beyond.

Realizing the potential distraction but not relying on it, the warrior charged in once more, feet slapping against the stone. He went into a quick flurry of fast strokes, Mjolnir leading with more powerful strikes, Icicle playing a more tentative role as a jabbing weapon so that Izvilvin could easily withdraw it if need be.

Despite his precautions, Izvilvin's attack was furious and dynamic. A low slash at Seth's leg with Mjolnir followed by a quick jab toward his shoulder with Icicle; a high downward slice with Mjolnir followed by a neck-bound thrust with Icicle. It was time to force Seth to make a mistake that would present the end to this short battle. The human had fought well.

[Dissinger]

The age of this place was beginning to show as the wall behind him fell to the ground. As he remained focused on the drow before him he attacked, attempting a flurry of blows. However he went into action, ignoring the wound, since it had frozen over, he was in no danger of bleeding out, and went full bore ahead meeting the Drow's attacks head on. As each blow came he made sure to keep up, ignoring the pain flaring form his wound.

With that done he began his own assault, a dagger slash at the arm, followed by a forward step and a quick dagger jab. Knowing the Drow would only nimbly jump back from each attack he kept pressing forward. As the dust of the wall crumbling began to settle. He was trying to herd the Drow towards the stage as he continued to press forward with a slash followed by a quick knee to the groin from emphasis. He then planted the foot forward continuing his momentum as he moved to quickly push both of the Drow's short swords aside and go for another stab straight for the chest.

Sweat trickled down his brow as he pushed on his grey eyes growing as cold as the frosty short sword. His demeanor became more detached as he began to let his emotions go. He had to, he had already let his pride get the better of him once. He had foolishly clung to the changeling Amulet as his savior, only to find himself without it. He still had not figured out what exactly occurred but he had an idea now, and only hoped time would fix the problem.

As he continued to press the attack he finally spoke his words horse from the lack of words he would normally be spouting," You'd be surprised what you can live through you bastard!"

Red energy began to arc across his arms as he sent a kick straight out to give him room, quickly sheathing a dagger he forced his hand into a fist, before he relaxed it allowing the energy to form into the distinctive red orb. Throwing it towards his opponent he could only hope the speed of it would catch him off guard after dodging the kick and allow him to hit his opponent as he spat, "Seven Deaths may not be enough for you, but we'll see on the other side!"

[Izvilvin]

Izvilvin's tentative attacks came back to haunt him. Normally, the weight of his short swords would make blocking with daggers near-impossible, but with the lack of emphasis on his strikes, Izvilvin was allowing Seth to parry and deflect.

He had hardly slowed, but Seth was able to counter quickly at one point, setting Izvilvin on his heels and then slowly backward, Icicle and Mjolnir twisting and crossing to block the human's weapons. Izvilvin preferred to be on offense, but had long ago trained in tight defensive stances - his arms were close to his body, and he used the length of his weapons to keep the daggers at bay, always forcing outward with the superior weight to keep Seth from getting too close.

The strength necessary was great, especially with his arms so close to his body. Izvilvin, too, began to sweat, but could push himself to limits far beyond those of his drow brethren. He was backing up steadily, and as they passed the hallway entrance, he knew they'd soon be nearing the stairs.

Seth's knee came in hard and unexpected. Izvilvin strafed on instinct, taking the knee on his thigh, nearly numbing it. He hissed in response, sucking in a breath to retain his composure. Seth took the opportunity, coming in close beyond Izvilvin's swords and driving his dagger forward. In desperation the drow leapt backward, clearing the stairs entirely and landing on his feet, skidding just a bit on the slippery moss. His leg tingled, but he showed no sign at all that it hindered him.

The human spoke before the drow even landed, but it was so unexpected that Izvilvin caught none of the words. As red energy coursed along Seth's arms, the drow slashed Icicle in three wide, climbing arcs in front of him, willing the magical blade to create a large wall of icy mist that hid him from his opponent. He then that he leaped backward and behind the center platform, seconds before the red orb crashed through the obscuring mist and into the stone seats beyond.

He rose quickly, mounting the platform from the side with nimble hops. He had higher ground than Seth, who was still near the hallway where the fight had begun. Izvilvin watched him, eyes blazing with ferocious intensity. He sheathed his swords, Mjolnir letting out a resounding crackle in protest, and Izvilvin replaced them with his Wind Daggers.

A sudden wind rushed through the broken, open ceiling, tussling Izvilvin's hair. He tilted a single dagger in challenge, daring the human to resume their duel where so many had generations before.

[Dissinger]

An ominous wind blew over the battlefield brushing the stray strands of hair from his eyes. It twisted and danced about him, luring him to join in its carefree dance, as it continued to float through the room. Already the battle had disrupted the peace and tranquility of the place. As he slowly took a step up the stairs he winced slightly, the pain beginning to catch up with him. Each heavy footstep crushed the moss that had begun eating at the stone as he continued his slow ascent.

His free hand pulled ivory from its sheath as he kept his eyes on his opponent. His grey eyes cold and calculating. He still had not landed a solid blow, though the knee had connected. As he narrowed his eyes grimly he began to slowly pace about the Drow. The winds that were encroaching upon the room continued to assault the two of them, playing with their hair as he continued to remain on guard. Dagger fighting was brutal and vicious. As the red stain on his shirt spread he knew he was beginning to bleed out, as the blood had begun defrosting and was trying desperately to clot.

The chill permeated his very being as he continued to look upon the Drow, he was calculating, thinking, learning. The Drow was good at close combat, the efficient use of his short swords, had taught him that. The use of his spell had not fazed the Drow either. This meant the Drow was perhaps geared towards fighting without magic, and so learned its secrets to better understand, but never to wield. If anything it had given him a chance to steady his breathing as his breath went forth into the morning air, a bit of a fog escaping his lips before it dissipated into the morning mist.

He could feel the anticipation of the kill coming. He could feel it building up, a constricting of his chest, a sped up beating of his heart, even his sense were more aware as he relished the battle. His mind was working fluidly and efficiently. If he came to think things through he could do so now, as his mind was finally clear of any obstacles. Still slowly circling the Drow he didn't speak, he didn't make any sudden movements, merely a deliberate step in front of the other. He then slowly closed his eyes as he tilted his head this way and that, feeling the bones pop and release their tension.

His ears never stopped listening for his opponent as he moved springing upon his opponent quickly, swinging a dagger to cut across the Drow's chest, the follow up blow was a downward thrust right into the leg of the Drow, hoping to plant Ebony squarely in the Drow's thigh and hinder him as he began his renewed assault. He then spat the one phrase he knew in drow, a rather crass one at that, "Xal dosst velve hojh lu'dosst khalith dofith dos."

Ghuantyrr'stra Doafin would have been proud...

[Izvilvin]

Izvilvin moved with Seth, the two of them switching positions on the platform as they turned. It ended up that Izvilvin's back was to the hall where they had just fought, facing a mountain of rubble that lay beyond Seth - the remains of the collapsed ceiling. Behind each of them were stairs leading down to the mossy floor, and of course all around them were those climbing stone benches. At each corner of the platform there was a short pillar with an ancient torch atop it, though one of them was broken with one half lying outside the fighting area.

The human closed his eyes, cracking bone in some strange ritual to relax himself. When Seth opened his eyes once more, Izvilvin wondered to himself why he hadn't taken the opportunity to attack, as it was something he would always have capitalized on in the past. Perhaps he was being too careful with this warrior, who had done well in keeping up with the drow's pace.

The drow knew he was being measured, but also knew that it didn't matter. He was more than skilled enough to hold his own against this human.

As if to test that thought, Seth came in hard, hair dancing on his head as his approach brought him in close. Izvilvin pulled his upper body back to dodge the slash of the dagger, though he could have let it skid across his light, powerful armor. In response, Izvilvin's left hand raised in an attempt to slash open Seth's retreating bicep.

Unfortunately, the counterattack left him unbalanced for Seth's other strike, a downward stab for Izvilvin's leg. He dragged back the vulnerable limb, but Ebony still caught his flesh and dragged down, a shallow cut along the drow's right thigh that tore away the fabric of his pants. He winced, but didn't retreat a step.

Seth's sentence translated to "May your blade fail and your courage flee you", roughly. Izvilvin didn't even acknowledge it, knowing precisely what it was designed for. Unfortunately for Seth's aspirations, the drow had not come to talk.

He came in strong, feet gliding along the rubble that lay strewn about the platform. He drove his left dagger up and toward the human's right ribs, looking to force the weapon through that leather armor and against bone. The other dagger, green in color and surrounded by a circling breeze, remained at the ready to parry and counterattack.

[Dissinger]

As he jerked back he felt the tingle of something not right with his arm as he retreated. The sound of ripping cloth assailing his ears as the knife cut into the fabric of his shirt, nearly missing the skin, told him the truth. He had nearly lost an arm in the counter attack of the Drow. As the whirlwind of attacks and counters began the Drow unleashed a slight wince at the discomfort from having Ivory tear through the fabric of his pants.

A dagger went for his ribs and so he acted accordingly, He rushed the Drow, getting uncomfortably close as he parried and pushed the dagger aside, looking to press his shoulder straight into the sternum of his elven opponent. He then moved to roll past him hoping the sudden act would catch him off guard as he tried to get some distance between him and the elf. His opponent was blazingly fast, and so he would have to slow him down to get a chance at tearing into him. This meant use of more magic, and he had just the spell for the obnoxious Drow.

"Life is passing you by!" The words spoken once more energy began to surge forth from his body. A quick sheathing of Ivory gave him the outlet to form the ball of time shifting magic before he sprung once again sprinting at the Drow with the intent of throwing a punch, with his right hand, right for the gut of the Drow, in an effort to unleash the magic directly into his opponent.

If he got the timing right, he'd be done before dinner...

[Izvilvin]

Izvilvin didn't brace for the charge, rather allowed the force of Seth's rush to strike his armored chest as he leaped backward, creating a small gap between the two warriors. The Drow's feet slid along the rubble on the platform, bringing him to a stop as he fell into a low defensive stance, dust rising around his black cloth shoes - dust that was quickly whisked away in a gust of wind.

Seth had kept pace with him, moving with Izvilvin's retreat and rolling around to the warrior's back. The Drow kept his cool, spinning with the human, but he had no time to dodge the coming punch. Seth's fist slammed hard into Izvilvin's enchanted armor, a Delyn breastplate that, to the Drow, was as flexible and light as cotton. To Seth's fist, however, it was still as hard as metal.

Satisfied at first and hoping to counter the strike, Izvilvin was shocked to find that his right arm was moving so slowly in response. As if moving against a strong wind, the Drow watched in curiosity as his dagger came in, ever so slowly, to whiff by Seth's arm pathetically.

The magical Slow spell had worked, indeed, but the Drow was resistant to such manipulations of his mind and body. Even as he retreated a step, hoping to buy some time, he could sense the magical effect losing its hold. Trying to buy himself another moment or two, Izvilvin slashed his daggers forward in a horizontal arc, blasting forth a broad torrent of wind that he hoped would drive Seth back a few steps, perhaps even off the platform.

[Dissinger]

As the punch connected with his opponent he heard the clang of his guantleted hand off the armor. Satisfied with the act he jumped back, just as the blast of wind came his way. With the added moment of jumping, he sailed clearly off the platform as he noticed the slowed movement. Cursing softly he considered his options.

Facing the Drow right now was stupid, as it would take some time just to get back up there, and with the way things were going he couldn't beat the Drow in a stand up fight. With this in mind he quickly moved back itno the hallway their encounter began not bothering to hide the fact he was retreating. With his opponents slowed state he'd have at least that much time. Now that he was in the hallways, he began to work on steadying his breath, and moving quieter, moving about the hallways of this ruined battlefield.

He needed an ambush, badly. As he moved about the darkness he grimaced, his hand immediately going to his side, where the short sword had frozen his blood and dealt a severe injury. He would have to do something about it, or suffer further damage down the road. His only options were to endure it, or use the gift of the magi to restart, but with no true damage on his opponent, he'd be forced back at square one, not exactly something that he would relish.

Hiding in the shadows, a lung popper clutched tightly, he waited for his opponent. He needed a solid hit soon, and with the fact the elf had a chain shirt on, he needed to make it count. The leg would suffice, if only to slow the fight down to a more manageable pace. Without torchlight, it would be hazardous for both to avoid the feints of the others, since it would be hard with no light to warn of impending attacks. Perhaps more to his forte than his opponents though, since he actually used weapons that hid in the darkness...

[Izvilvin]

Sweat dripped from Izvilvin's nose, the glistening tip of which he could see as he watched Seth retreat back toward the hallway. The elf was shocked to be left alone when he was in such a vulnerable state, but supposed Seth had a new game plan in mind. So be it.

As suddenly as it had taken hold, the Slow spell released Izvilvin, earlier than usual because of his resistance to such effects. By then the human was out of sight, and the drow made no move to follow right away. He was the one with the superior senses, after all - he had the utmost confidence when it came to fighting in a complex of passageways.

Bending to one knee, Izvilvin undid the harness on his thigh that held his sais, letting the extra weight rest against the cracked surface of the platform. The cut on his leg was superficial, he could see, but wasn't far from a main tendon. He left his daggers, all four of them, and his kukris on the platform as well, opting to do the rest of the dirty work with Icicle and Mjolnir.

The open dueling area of the citadel was bright, the sun beaming clouded light through the open top. As he re-entered the hallway, however, Izvilvin was surprised by the darkness. Where they had fought before, just before the collapsed wall, there was no ceiling. But when he walked on, coming to an area which gave him two options of where to move, a cracked but functional ceiling blocked the sun.

Seth had made his biggest mistake so far, entering the darkness. Not only did Izvilvin's highly-advanced senses clue him in on every noise, every shift of a boot even if it was some distance away, but he could see perfectly in the dark; perhaps even better than he did in the light. Izvilvin drew his swords, and only then realized that he had little room to fight in his sweeping, acrobatic style.

Icicle glowed in the black, the mist rising and disappearing into the air like vapor for a steaming pot. Mjolnir played tricks on his heat vision, but Izvilvin could differentiate that heat from body heat easily - a completely different shade of red. All the same, the lightning blade was behind him in his off-hand, trailing his measured movements.

The walls and floor were almost featureless. Every so often there was a rusted iron hold for a torch welded into the stone, but besides that there were only weeds and moss overgrowth. He saw them all, despite the dark, as grey outlines against a backdrop of white. It was all shades of grey, white and black, except for the hot bolts of Mjolnir.

He stopped. The faint sound of breathing, controlled and measured, sneaked into his ears. He isolated the sound from the environmental noises - cracking lightning from Mjolnir, the wind against the walls, tumbling pebbles - and he moved forward. Seth was somewhere around the next sharp corner, but Izvilvin didn't charge. Few human warriors would be ignorant of the advantages an elf had in this situation, and Seth would be waiting to ambush.

Only a fool would turn into a waiting opponent. Tapping Icicle against the wall to his right, the low-pitched ring of dense Damascus echoing throughout the halls, Izvilvin hoped Seth would be that fool.

[Dissinger]

Stalemate.

Thats what the resounding ring of metal upon stone was. His opponent was neither hindered nor was it wise to assume so. He was being called out, and it was this that frustrated him. Everything he was attempting was being undone, how could he beat an opponent who could undo everything he did. How could he destroy something that had the counter to every move?

The logical answer, the answer that plagued him from the first spar, was that he couldn't.

The thief answer made him smile as he realized the answer, act like you don't know. Keep doing your game plan, and change up when you can catch them off guard. What did he truly know about Seth? He was a magic user of some kind, he was obviously skilled with his daggers. No, he knew nothing of Seth Dahlios. That would be his undoing, he merely had to make the Drow think he had won, and Gift of the magi, would be the answer when the time came.

The first act, was to throw his voice across the way, sputtering durses as he scraped boots across stone, letting it echo about the area giving the drow no chance to tell if he was over there or not as he began, "God damn this hurts like a bitch..."

A smile crossed his face as he neatly twirled the kunai, letting it come to life as he prepared in anticipation for the Drow to come around the corner, eyes closed serenely as he waited for that tell tale step of boots. His blind sense were in overload as the sounds died down and he began to hold his breath, waiting for his opponent. No noise was afforded as he waited, a coiled spring, waiting to unleash its potential force, in an attack sure to catch the Drow offguard.

[Izvilvin]

Switching Icicle into his defensive off-hand, Izvilvin approached the corner he knew led to Seth's waiting ambush. It was the kind of knowledge that came with a hundred years of hunting in the darkness, of having to dodge the Dwarven patrols as they searched their own tunnels endlessly. Human, Drow or Dwarf, people had a tendency to obey their instincts in the dark, to lay in wait for their coming prey. The drow knew too well the dangers of these tunnels, even without his keen hearing cluing him in on Seth's general location.

They were both creatures of stealth, aware of each other's moves more than the typical person would be. Knowing he could not swerve the corner fast enough to prepare a defense, and knowing he needed to do something drastic, unpredictable, Izvilvin did the only thing that came to mind and hurled himself against the wall.

Rocking the layered bricks with the force of his side, Izvilvin saw the wall was fragile, pebbles tumbling down onto his shoulders as dust hovered. As fast as possible he charged again, breaking a space in the wall big enough for him to pass through.

Rather than immediately doing so, through, the drow stuck Icicle through and swerved it up and down, willing the blade to leave its icy mist behind it. Charging through, Izvilvin burst out of the cold to pivot left, finding himself in a larger hallway with a red rug nearly blackened with dirt.

Turning quickly to face the icy wall, the drow searched for Seth Dahlios, confident the human was at the other side of it. Aching from his efforts with the wall, a pained Izvilvin waited with all the patience his adrenaline-pumped body could manifest.

[Ataraxis]

Quest Judging
Decadence

At long last, your judgment is here! I’ll be going over the main points more or less quickly, while the notes will fill in the gaps. All in all, a decent battle that had its downs, besides the fact that it’s incomplete. I’ll tell you all about it… in the rubric!

I also realize that this thread was written quite a while ago, and that you’ve all both improved since. This was written as if this were a recently finished thread submitted for judging, so if you feel that certain comments no longer apply to you now, then all the better!

Dissinger is in blue, Izvilvin is in red.

STORY

Continuity ~

5/10. I understood Seth’s reasons for going to the Citadel, though you have to admit you were rather fuzzy on the details. Saying that he was conflicted was clear enough in itself, though the logical question after being told that is: why? What happened prior to this battle that induced this state of mind? You don’t even need to be specific about it, and just list a few events in short sentences, as well as his general reactions. Moreover, doing that might have also covered the question of ‘just what was he doing in Radasanth, anyway?’ As the thread was never finished, you of course couldn’t answer the ‘what is he going to do now’ query. Otherwise, you did moderately well in mentioning Revan, his country of birth, though his links to and sentiments for that place were tenuous at best. I was also a bit queasy about that reference to Ghaunt, and though I didn’t dock you any points for not telling the reader who she is (as she would be somewhat of a celebrity), but not hinting as to how Seth came to know the woman was a bit of a slip.

5.5/10. Ivzilvin was similarly cloaked in mystery, as I only had his ‘desire to escape the daggers of assassins, if only for a while’ vibe to go on. Still, that was a fair bit of useful information, as it puts Izvilvin in a position to say that it doesn’t matter where he’s been before: he’s never going to be safe. Why he’s being pursued by assassins might have been useful too, as you usually describe Step having something to do with it. In general, I still think you lacked quite a bit of information in this, though you did good in mentioning his century of experience with hunts in the darkness, and his conflicts with humans and dwarves. Lastly, like Dissinger, since this thread was incomplete, you get docked for the same reasons.

Setting ~

5.5/10. There was some description of the setting, mostly focused when he first entered the arena and in short bursts whenever you felt you hadn’t taken the setting into consideration for too long. When you put effort into these descriptions, they came off well, though the rest sometimes had a generic ring. As a whole, the setting wasn’t much, and from what the monk said about a vicious and hard fight, I’d expected a duel in hellfire (though since Iz seemed to be the one who came up with the arena, this might not be your fault). Save for kicking rocks and rushing to the hallways when he found himself in a pinch, there wasn’t much interaction either. I also thought they were in an open arena from Iz’ initial description, but you described them as being in a room, while Iz later specified the presence of an open ceiling and how he was surprised to see a hallway with an actually closed one.

6.5/10. Your descriptions were simplistically vivid, and I felt that you made careful decisions to place them at efficient moments in the battle. While reading this battle, I got the most material out of your posts to build an image of the surroundings in my head. I could be picky and say that they were at times too simplistic and conservative, in the sense that you didn’t try to add evocative imagery to your descriptions, choosing instead to describe things as they were. Perhaps that suits Izvilvin’s composed personality, but I’m sure you’re aware that there are ways to use imagery in ways fitting to both the narration and the character. Even a stoic man can see more in a river than coursing water, and it’s in your power to show us what he perceives. Otherwise, I think you did well enough in interacting with the setting, even indirectly: his analyses of the coliseum in relation to his racial traits and fighting capabilities were insightful, and I was intrigued by the wall-breaking in the end.


Pacing ~

3/10. I have to say that I hit more bumps while reading your posts than while reading Iz’. There were quite a few blatant mistakes that detracted my attention from the actual content of your posts, notably in the syntax and grammar. Moreover, there were times when I felt you didn’t have a clear direction with your posts, and the actions Seth took in fighting Izvilvin were sometimes too unclear for me to follow with bated breath. Lastly, I docked two points because the thread was incomplete.

4.5/10. You were much less prone to making mistakes, and you kept your writing simple yet engaging. Still, you sometimes suffered from the same lack of clarity in the battle, and I sometimes wondered just where this fight was going. 18 posts for a blade fight that began to stagnate and two spells that barely did anything cut into the pacing, and this applies to Dissinger’s Pacing score too. Like him, you were also docked two points because this battle was incomplete.

CHARACTER

Dialogue ~

4.5/10. The only actual dialogue was in the first post, with a few thoughts during the battle. The rest were stock lines because he needs to say them to cast his spells. The rest were stock Hollywood lines, from the ‘got someone to kill’ to the ‘come and get me’. I do give you credit for using the one Drowish line he learned from Ghaunt, and it does seem to deliver (to the reader, as Izvilvin was rather indifferent to it). The monk’s dialogue seemed forcibly amiable, plastic in a sense, and his philosophical lines bordered on the colloquial, which seems odd for a monk.

4.5/10. I don’t know how many ways you can be told this, as this crops up in every judging I’ve ever read concerning Izvilvin: considering he speaks only a few words of Common, is a stoic and asocial person to start with and a character that sticks to the ‘battle don’t babble’ school of thought, it’s hard to dock you for this. Very hard. Still, you should not see this as an immunity to low dialogue scores (not that I’m saying you do) but as a reason to try and find plausible reasons and occasions for him to use that one page dictionary of is: after all, you have a certain measure of control over what happens to him, so you would be able to lay the groundwork for such a situation. As I see it, every time you were faced with such an occasion, you brushed it off by having Izvilvin either not realize someone was speaking his language, or by having him be invariably focused on fighting. “That’s in his nature” only goes so far. Skewing the events to justify him having no dialogue will rarely get you scores higher than 6 or 7, but choosing the right moments to speak and say the right words can net you something more than decent.

Action ~

6/10. What I enjoyed from Seth is that he puts into motion plans that look like they’re going to work on the surface, but that end up backfiring in plausible ways – and he’s very conscious of it. Otherwise, the description of the blade fight felt like it stretched, and was sometimes too blurry to fully grasp.

6.5/10. Izvilvin’s actions were in tune with what you’d expect from a seasoned warrior. He knows how to anticipate moves to the best of his abilities – not beyond them, as is so often seen in battles. He also carefully analyzes a situation and assesses how detrimental or advantageous it is for him, versus how much it is toward his opponent. I also enjoyed the fact that he battered a hole in a wall big enough for him to slip through and use it the noise and the mist to lure Seth into coming – he has no choice, unless he decides to wait on his side until Izvilvin gives up and seeks him from the adjacent hallway. However, like with Dissinger, the fight did seem to stretch, and though to a lesser extent, it was still blurry at times.

Persona ~

7/10. Now I can say that Seth was much more believable in his emotions and introspections than in his dialogue. From the exasperation to his plans being foiled continuously, to the negativity that built up as the fight went on and he realized he was more and more outmatched: you played it very appropriately. The bit about the ‘thief answer’ also made me smile, as that also gives an insight into what Seth used to be, and how that pleasant street-career still affects his way of thinking.

6.5/10. I’m not going to score this on the range of emotions Izvilvin had during this fight (which would actually be bad for you) but how genuine the things he did feel and think appeared to the reader by the way you wrote them. In general, Izvilvin’s stoicism comes across adequately, and not in a robotic or Vulcan way. He did react to the moments he was wounded, impressed by Seth’s skill and persistence as a warrior, though as a whole he seemed to dismiss too many things. I can understand that he has a filter when he enters combat which keeps his mind from wandering, but like in dialogue, you seem bat away many instances when the reader wouldn’t be surprised that he’d react in a curious, surprised, or foreboding kind of way, favoring the calculating stolidity of your character as a sort of safety net. I’m not saying you should jump at every occasion to have him express something more than ‘oh, interesting’, but to keep an eye out for these moments and at least consider the possibility of changing his tune.

WRITING STYLE

Technique ~

6/10. Your writing style would have shone (as in shine, not show, but both do work) much more if you’d made fewer mistakes in Mechanics. Still, it wasn’t completely devaluated by those mistakes, and you were rather creative with your style. As a general observation in this thread, however, you played it safe and rarely used literary devices to enhance the reading experience.

6.5/10. You managed to immerse me more with your writing, on one part due to the clean feeling to your writing, on the other part because you have a knack for writing things in a fascinatingly simpler way – basically, your style has the shine and gloss without all the superfluous razzmatazz. Conversely, there was also a palpable absence of literary devices to enliven your posts, and your technique didn’t excel as well in this battle than in most of the other quests you’ve written.

Mechanics ~

4.5/10. Mostly punctuation and syntax, as well as typos and misspelled words. See notes for details!

7.5/10. Not quite that much, and of varying nature. See notes for details!

Clarity ~

6.5/10. How certain portions of the battle were described were rather hard to follow and understand, and the number of obfuscating mistakes also played a hand in lowering your score.

7/10. Same as above, only you made less mistakes and were slightly clearer when those moments did occur.

MISCELLANEOUS

Wild Card ~

4/10. The battle wasn’t finished, and the contents of it weren’t exactly stellar, making this a rather normal fight with nothing quite out of the ordinary. It wasn’t a bore, though I must admit some passages did not particularly drive me to read quite so passionately, nor did I particularly want to know what would happen next.

4.5/10. Same as above, though the cleanliness of your writing did have a positive impact.

TOTAL ~

52/100.

59.5/100.

Izvilvin Wins!

EXP Rewards

Seth Dahlios gains: 1050 XP!
Izvilvin Kazizzrym gains: 3075 XP!


GP Rewards

Seth Dahlios gains: 235 GP!
Izvilvin Kazizzrym gains: 700 GP!


FINAL NOTES

This was a pretty decent effort, guys. If there’s one thing that could have given this quest a boost of well over 10 points, it would be a basic plot that could’ve kept both you and your readers scotched to the computer screen. After that, applying consistent effort into the writing and spell-checking while balancing that with enjoyment in doing so would have made this quite a battle to read. So, I'm raising my glass to next time, and until then: so long, and thanks for the fish!


Notes for Decadence

Odd-numbered are Dissinger, Even-numbered are Izvilvin

Moving down the familiar road out of Radasanth he pushed forward his mind keenly focused on the goal. (1) I’m sure this needs a comma, because I don’t know whether ‘he pushed forward his mind, keenly focused on’, or ‘he pushed forward, his mind keenly focused’. Something does sound off either way, but at least the comma would have clarified things.

He'd fight he'd survive and he'd move on (1) Comma between “fight” and “he’d survive”

The voices in his mind seemed to perk up at the thought of battle, even now their insidious rhythm drummed (1) you have a few choices here. Considering you separated two independent clauses, you’d have needed either a coordinating conjunction such as “and”, or a semi-colon instead of the comma.

As he waited he flexed his hands in their glove, he trusted the monks (1) The idea between the clauses don’t exactly related to one another, so perhaps a period would function better here.

Finally he was brought before a door, the monk merely smiled as he said (1) Since I think you’ll want your sentences to be smoother, I won’t suggest a semi-colon but a change of tense: “smiling” instead of “smiled” would resolve the problem fairly easily, I’d say.

There is nothing in here cannot be easily replaced, antiquity only shows functionality my friend (1) The pace of his dialogue seemed off, so here’s a suggestion on a form that may be easier to read: “There is nothing in here that cannot be easily replaced, and antiquity only shows functionality, my friend .”

Oh don't go there Dahlios, you are going to turn out okay, you're merely in transition. The other side seems too far, but you will get there, even if you were half dead beaten and humiliated, you will reach that far shore. (1) It’s the same as the previous line of dialogue, and here’s another suggestion: “Oh, don't go there Dahlios. You are going to be fine, for you are merely in transition. The other side may seem distant now, but you will get there; even if you were half-dead beaten and humiliated, you would reach that far shore.”

daggers of assassins... For just a few minutes. (2) if the word following an ellipsis is not a proper noun, then it should not be capitalized.

works of mother nature even now continued to reclaim what was rightfully its. (3) if you’re going to call it ‘mother’ nature, using ‘hers’ instead of ‘its’ would have worked out quite well. The reason why it sounds awkward is most likely because we usually don’t associate ‘rightful possession to’ anything that can be described with a gender-neutral possessive pronoun that’s usually associated to inanimate objects or concepts. Plus… it just does.

the dead lands of Revan (3) I’m not too sure what lands you’re referring to. I’ll read and see if you elucidate this mystery later on.

A balcony showed a throne, overgrown with vines and other flora oversaw the entire battle (3) As it’s written, it looks like you’re trying to convey that the throne is overgrown with vines and other flora, but since you then turned ‘flora’ into the subject of ‘oversaw’… You can see how this becomes troublesome. If my initial assumption is what you meant, then replace ‘oversaw’ with overseeing’. If not, then I’m not sure what propositions I can make, since the meaning of a sentence like that would be rather unclear.

as he thought back to the old capital of Revan, Kenth. (3) From this I can infer that Seth comes from Revan or has been there long enough to be acquainted with its geography and history. The previous mystery begins to unfold!

It too was destroyed, but by war, and then taken by vampires, he doubted it rested in such a peaceful state, slowly decomposing as nature won over civilization yet again. (3) Picked out like this from the other sentences, I’m sure you can see why it would sound somewhat clumsy. The start of the sentence is a bit heavy with pauses, and you switch ideas after ‘vampire’ without a coordinating conjunction or a semi-colon. The trick to avoiding this is to always consider how each part of the sentences you write relates to those you’ve already written, and those you’ve yet to write.

Here’s an over-the-top example of what not using coordinating conjunctions and semi-colons will do to a sentence composed of multiple independent clauses (which in itself should be avoided past 2 or 3 clauses, due to clutter): “The turtles of war were advancing to meet the battle llamas, it was my belief that such an event could only end in a sugary catastrophe, the llamas would be vicious with their candy canes and lightning hooves, we are on the way to destruction, what you say?”

I’ve read many of your quests before, and punctuation plus syntax was the one thing that really detracted for an otherwise impeccable style of writing. Were you to correct this single small habit, the immersive quality of your writing would substantially improve.

He would draw his prey out, by becoming that which he hunted, and easy mark (3) Are you saying he’s becoming the thing he himself hunts, which would be an easy mark? Or that he’s becoming what his own prey is hunting for? I know a prey wouldn’t be defined by ‘he’ but by ‘it’, yet considering past mistakes in this battle (i.e. mother nature), I couldn’t be sure. Either way, the comma between ‘out’ and ‘by’ is extraneous, the comma between ‘hunted’ and ‘and’ should be a colon as you’re giving an explanation and definition of what is being hunted, and ‘and’ should actually be ‘an’. In a nutshell: “He would draw his prey out by becoming that which he hunted: an easy mark.” This is, of course, assuming this wasn’t a case of ambiguous pronouns, but you get the benefit of the doubt.

Sighing as he did so he listened as the rock skipped across the stony ground, his eyes never ceasing their search before he stopped in clear view of the rest of the arena, and closed his eyes, then raised his arms above his head in the imitation of a stretch, and let out the faux yawn. (3) Run-on with a lot of verbs and a lot of “and”s. Moreover, there’s usually no comma before and unless it’s used to separate independent clauses or to clarify groupings in a list (“Huey, Dewey, and Louie”, “bananas, oranges, milk and cookies, and macaroni and cheese”).

Before Seth's boot kicked the rock, intentional or not (4) intentionally. By deconstructing your sentence, the only things that could be ‘intentional’ are Seth, the boot, or the rock, and none of them would make any sense. The only thing that could be done ‘intentionally’, though, is quite clear.

there was several feet of flat ground before a barrier (4) were several feet

Pivoting, Izvilvin drew Icicle and Mjolnir from their sheaths, the telltale sound of metal escaping into air rang through the arena (4) consider the subject of the second clause is ‘the telltale sound of metal escaping into air’, you’d need either an ‘and’ or a semi-colon instead of that comma.

Before Seth's boot kicked the rock + Brown hair topped Seth's head (4) No points will be docked because of this comment. I just wanted to point out that your narrator is being omnipotent, whereas you usually refer to unknown characters ambiguously until they give out their names or Izvilvin learns them, somehow. This might have been a slip or an informed decision, so you naturally get the benefit of the doubt. Still, narrative omnipotence is usually avoided in this genre.

quickly brought his hands down he quickly (5) might have been for effect, but the repetition of ‘quickly’ seems to be doing more harm than good.

moments was almost impossible to see from the naked eye (5) were almost impossible

crackling maliciously with energy, that was were the previous clash of metal had come from. (5) a dash might work better with the pacing of the battle than a colon, but that comma definitely has to go.

a liquid washed over the Seth's torso (6) You forgot to erase ‘the’

The flushing of blood his his face (7) in his face

The crackling blade of energy was enroute (7) en route

and hope to use the pain later (7) Now a new reader would probably be confused by this line, and I only know what you meant because I read the Hex Magi spells in most of your profiles.

With a sharp inhale he felt the blade begin to cut through the leather of his vest, and through the cloth, most of the momentum seized in that small action, and yet it still punctured skin (7) Here’s a suggestion to make the structure of that sentence more solid: “With a sharp inhale he felt the blade begin to cut through the leather of his vest and then through the cloth; most of the momentum was seized in that small action, yet it still punctured skin.”

permeate his through him (7) You forgot to erase ‘his’

a hard prevalida blade that could have combusted with Izvilvin's enchanted armor (8) I vaguely remember something about his breastplate and explosions from that Bazaar thread and reading his profile, but I have to say I had to check to be sure just why a combustion would occur. A few words of detail as to why that would happen would have been good, though good work on at least mentioning this peculiar effect.

However he went into action, ignoring the wound, since it had frozen over, he was in no danger of bleeding out, and went full bore ahead meeting the Drow's attacks head on. (9) This comes a few notches close to my ‘turtles of war’ example. You could forgo the whole ‘no danger’ part, as the reader could easily infer that a frozen wound wouldn’t bleed as much (the exact of rate of flow all depending on the level of the freezing of course).

As the dust of the wall crumbling began to settle. (9) It’s not just a fragment, but it also doesn’t really relate to the sentence before or the sentence after it. I’m guessing a deletion error?

quick knee to the groin from emphasis (9) I think you meant ‘for emphasis’?

he finally spoke his words horse from the lack of words he would normally be spouting (9) hoarse, also repeating ‘words’ somewhat deadens the sentence. Try thinking of what he or an opponent would say about the things he ‘spouts’: nonsense? Bullshit? Quasi-enlightened guesses? Anything that’s accurate enough and that can replace the second instance of ‘words’.

He then that he leaped backward and behind the center platform (10) This left me rather confused. Either way, you deleted something you shouldn’t have, or forgot to delete something you should have.

(11) Post eleven was basically very heavy with odd punctuations and tortuous sentences, so you may want to look into them and apply a few of the tips I gave for the previous one.

Ghuantyrr'stra Doafin (11) Ghauntyrr'stra. I don’t think there’s a way to tell more about who this is without losing the edge of that post’s ending line, which puts me in quite a pickle. Still, she’s a bit of a legend herself, and as I have a rule in which certain PCs can be used as reference without any negative effect on Continuity… yeah, you’re safe. Lucky bastard!

A dagger went for his ribs and so he acted accordingly, He rushed the Drow (13) accordingly: he rushed (note: colons are mostly used for definitions and explanations, while semi-colons are there to give a quicker pause than a period while having the grammatical advantages of a coordinating conjunction, amongst other things).

The words spoken once more energy began to surge forth from his body. (13) a suggestion instead of using ‘words’ everytime he casts a spell: why not try ‘spell-words’ or ‘cantrip’? Goes straight to the point and tells us that these are the words required to activate his spells, something that was a bit unclear when he used Seven Deaths.

with the intent of throwing a punch, with his right hand, right for the gut of the Drow, in an effort to unleash the magic directly into his opponent (13) ‘throwing a punch from the right’ or ‘throwing a right cross’, then ‘straight for the gut’. The only comma you actually needed here is this one: “with his right hand, right for the gut”

Izvilvin didn't brace for the charge, rather allowed (14) ‘but rather allowed’ or ‘rather allowing’

Guantleted (15) gauntleted

Everything he was attempting was being undone, how could he beat an opponent who could undo everything he did (17) Everything he was attempting was being thwarted: how could he beat an opponent who could undo everything he did?

and Gift of the Magi (17) You often work under the assumption that the reader knows what his Hex Magi spells do. I understand that choosing to describe them might slow the pace, but five to ten words could have easily hinted at what they did without any repercussion to your Pacing.

sputtering durses (17) curses

as he waited for that tell tale step of boots (17) telltale

catch the Drow offguard. (17) catch the Drow off guard.

[Witchblade]

EXP and GP added!

Izvilvin levels up!