(Open) Palliative Care

“This chamber might prove a bit too challenging. Maybe you would reconsider?” The monk was a kind sort of portly fellow who seemed to jiggle a bit with each breath. His words were warm, even in warning, though a set of wrinkled eyes hid a sternness his voice lacked. The boy seemed to look right through the mystic at the large stone door of simple carvings behind him. They were lit in torchlight in empty granite halls, flicker and flames drowning out the noises of The Citadel around them, and the crowds they passed in eager anticipation for the shows of might and brutality on display. Morus waved his hand in dismissal, paying little heed to the man that towered in front of him.

“I'm eager to see it,” he whispered, inattentive and craning his neck. He attempted to walk by the monk, only to be sidestepped and blocked once more. “If you'd please,” he groaned.

“We don't normally see ones as young as you enter, you know.” The monk began to lean down towards the boy, his back straining in great effort beneath his weight. His beige robes threatened to engulf Morus, who stepped back a bit in a huff on annoyance. “It is only with your great insistence that this is allowed, and I feel it my duty to warn you of the consequences of a battle here.” He reached a massive paw onto Morus' shoulder, gripping firm enough that the boy could not squirm away. “There is no shame in turning around right now, and if you're hellbent on this foolishness, even less so in surrendering when -”

The boy's hand shot up to grab the monk by his wrist. Dwarfed through it was, he drove his filthy fingernails gently enough to prove a point.

“I do not bow, or bend,” he shot back. Only break.

The monk stood tall once more, causing Morus to stumble to the ground. The boy clamored back to his feet and tried to dust himself off in the most dignified way possible, but he knew how foolhardy he looked already. The man sighed, curling a fist and shaking his head.

“You will feel everything. And you will die.” With that he left, his heavy footfalls echoing in the hallway behind.

The doors in front of him groaned as they awoke, slowly parting to reveal what hidden dangers awaited. Dust spilled from the seems, as if they hadn't moved in ages. The boy could barely contain himself and strode right into the chamber, but caught himself on the frame of the door when he felt his foot give way to nothing underneath. He gasped a bit, clinging with just his fingertips for a moment.

The room contained a single platform suspended with four thick strands of rope, above an abyss with no end in sight. As he hopped onto the wooden structure. He felt the curious sensation of sand between his toes, and the whole thing swayed ever so slightly, causing a deep put a nausea to wash over Morus. It was stark black, save for a pillar of silvery moonlight that poured into a shallow reflecting pool in the platform's center, giving the whole place the feel of some model beach. But around him, he could see a glimmer on the tip of sharp steel spikes that lined every wall were a door was not. It was as if he was in the gullet of some strange sea-beast heard of in story as a child.

He headed towards the water on uneasy feet, tracing each foot fall in the sand with a carefulness expected of a thief. The sway wasn't too much bothered by just his weight, but he didn't doubt the fifty square feet around him would become much more difficult to navigate with the addition of an opponent. As he reached the pool, he fell to his knees and dipped his hands into the shimmering depths, splashing cool moonlight on his face. The boy felt some soil lift from his skin, and the shock of it seemed to steel his resolve a little more. With his other hand, he played with the sand and let the grains of it slip from his fingers with a slow deliberation, watching it flow and wane from his grip.

He hadn't come to The Citadel for gold or glory, but to experience its unique ability to offer a safe taste of consequence free death. Morus' time in the world was marked to end when he reached the age of majority, and when it came his soul would shiver and scatter before the whims on the damned beast he'd promised it to those years ago. He knew fear and pain awaited him then, and no trip into dream or vision could truly fathom his fateful twisted horror. The arena didn't lack in selfish men whose only goal it was to destroy and butcher. And their lack of empathy was a blessing when death here meant nothing.

He closed his eyes to listen to the slow creak of the ropes held taught, and smiled a weak smile at how much it reminded him of the sound of the gallows.

Nosdyn found himself wandering into The Citadel's halls looking for the thrill of battle.

One of those bastard Monks found him looking at The Citadel chambers and considering which ones were open or not. The Monk walked over towards Nosdyn and nodded to him. He was a portly fellow who had the false kindness that all Monks seemed to wear like a mantle.

Nosdyn turned his attention towards the Monk. "Was wondering when one of you would show up." Nosdyn said carefully with his heavy accent.

"Sorry for the delay, was taking care of a chamber with an open request." The Monk said calmly.

"Which chamber is it?" Nosdyn asked.

"I will guide you towards it." The Monk said, and Nosdyn opted to follow the portly fellow. "Not many of your people come to The Citadel these days."

Nosdyn nodded. "Haidia is in a state of turmoil and reform." Nosdyn explained. "But, I am not here to talk about the situation back...home." Nosdyn said, looking at the man carefully.

Notably, Nosdyn kept a fair distance away from the monk, not standing too close or too far. The Monk lead Nosdyn towards the chamber in question, where the boy who would be his opponent waited. "This chamber?" Nosdyn asked.

"...Yes." The Monk responded. "Be warned...the boy who issued the challenge does not seem entirely stable."

Nosdyn nodded. "Understood, can't be as bad as that other guy I fought."

"Ioder you mean." The Monk said calmly.

"Names are not relevant, only the battle is." Nosdyn said in response. He looked at the ancient chamber door. It was a lesser used section of The Citadel's blocks. "I'm ready." Nosdyn said calmly.

The Monk nodded. "Good luck."

***

When Nosdyn entered the chamber, his eyes opened and he was within the familiar place of a void. Perhaps THE VOID. He did not know. They were on a platform covered with sand, and there were quiet whispers, voices in the air. Nosdyn walked over towards the boy who was his opponent. "Ah...that was why he warned me." He looked at the boy and nodded towards him. "You're young but at a ripe age to learn the fires of combat." Nosdyn said carefully. The boy appeared to be playing with the sand that was on their battle platform. Nosdyn noticed that there was a subtle swaying to the platform. After his last battle with Ioder, in that volcanic hell like battle field, this would probably be a much different battle.

Nosdyn looked at the boy before him. The large Demon unlatched his chosen weapon and activated it. A mysterious sound filled the air, generated from the amethyst blade itself. Nosdyn held his chosen weapon with one hand, the blade pointing downward at a forty-five degree angle. He would not hold back on the boy simply because the fellow was a boy. In The Citadel...all opponents were treated regardless of the form they took. Nosdyn had a code of honour to uphold after all. He walked towards the boy and stopped a few paces directly in front of him. "We can begin at your leisure." The Demon said carefully and waited for the lad to start the battle.

Though his real eyes was closed, Morus' mind's eye remained opened as he absentmindedly played with sand. Perhaps in meditation, or some crude method to calm his nerves, he found the swaying rope and occasional ripple from the pool relaxing. It had an even pace, like a swing he had in his garden when he was a child. The boy breathed slow and heavy, and smiled for just a moment before he felt the rumble of another door and the platform to begin to shake under an unfamiliar weight. He turned and looked to see a leather-clad figure striding towards him, pausing a few paces away, and brandishing a weapon. He was more beast than man, thick as he was tall, and covered from head to toe in padded armor. His skin was azure and with eyes so gold that Morus couldn't help but compare it to some terrible, twinkling treasure deep beneath the sea at night.

The demon spoke some stark words about combat and fires – words used by butchers from every corner of the globe. Though The Citadel brought out killers and bravi for show, it was never responsible for creating such monsters. Men were desensitized to killing long before they walked its blood soaked halls. ”It is the nature of things,” mused Morus, ”that the weak justify the strong.” But he and his village home had been the weak, and he sought a strength so awful that no crevice was safe to hide from his vengeance. And in the end, it solved nothing. The boy's soul would be stripped from him to pay a debt, even if his tormentors had deserved their end.

Morus stood up now, letting the last grains of sand stick to his hand. A wicked idea slipped into his head, and he found himself using his toes to dig in the sand beneath him, trying to guess how deep it went. Four, maybe five inches of it covered the surface of the platform, and the boy made a note of it for when the time came. He tried in vain to crack his knuckles, and when that failed went for a slow reveal of his knife that clung to the belt beneath his long tattered vest. He reached for it slowly, never breaking eye contact with his opponent even as he brushed away some soot that clung to the hilt. The boy drew it into his off hand, making a small playful spin of the long blade.

“How noble of you to wait on my account,” joked the boy, cracking a smile that lacked any humor behind it. “But I think you should recuse yourself from any concept of nobility in this butcher's work.”

Morus bent his knees a bit as if he would charge at any moment. His blade was held backwards in his left hand, and his eyes at a terrible focus to them. But as he played at the warriors art, he twisted his right hand behind his back, before flinging it forward. At once he felt the surge rush through him, the throbbing push from his arm and the light-headedness that followed. A wave of psychokinetic energy, invisible to the eye, went forth in an attempt to push his opponent to the ground.

Nosdyn smiled at the boy before him...it was sincere.

The kid has balls...I'll give him that. The old Demon looked at the boy as he readied...something. With his eyes narrowed in concentration, Nosdyn readied his weapon. Energy rippled through the air of the psionic type. An energy he'd seen in action before...not in The Citadel's halls...but elsewhere. In his youth, the Demon would have taken the attack dead on. However, he had something to prove. Ever since his battle with Ioder failed miserably...Nosdyn had an old chip on his shoulder that weighed a crap-ton. As the wayward energy rippled through the air, causing a mysterious effect through it...Nosdyn raised the blade of his weapon and intercepted it.

He lunged his body weight forward against the mysterious psionic's force. There was a crackle of power as the boy's power intercepted the Demon's blade. Energy sizzled every which way, sending sparkling fragments all about. It was hot in the air for a brief moment...reminded Nosdyn of home. The resulting energy reaction forced Nosdyn to slide backwards several paces against the boy's potent energies. Nosdyn's muscles tensed and tightened, sweat pouring freely across his blue flesh.

Nosdyn growled against the surprising weight of the energy that the child had released. Once the effects of it subsided, Nosdyn held his weapon at the ready for a few more moments. Just in case the boy could rapid-fire his power. Ioder had similar power to what the boy held deep within. Nosdyn's glowing blade hummed with a mysterious noise. As he regained his composure, Nosdyn looked at the boy...now a few feet away. Their combat platform swayed ever so subtly in protest of the two warriors.

Nosdyn shook his head for a moment as he looked at Morus. "...That was a nice trick. Quite a similar power to Ioder." Nosdyn was referring to Ioder, another combatant of The Citadel Leagues. He also knew that his enemy...Jake Narmonalya held similar powers as well. ...Just like him. I'll have to continue my training after this. Learn my own power...get above the rest. Nosdyn shook his head again, the weight of the boy's energy had rattled him ever so subtly. Thankfully, Nosdyn did NOT take the attack in any balsy tank sort of way. He'd opted for a much more careful approach. I'm hesitating...this boy is not Ioder. I'm going to push him as far as I can before he cracks. Nosdyn relaxed his stance finally and once again moved his weapon to a forty-five degree angle pointing downward. "I'm wondering if some Orlogue folks taught you that power or not...worth looking into anyway." Nosdyn said to the boy. He started to walk slowly towards the boy...

As his opponent's blade met his force attack, a wave of nausea filled the boy's stomach. There was a methodology to the swing – some clear-minded plan to counter it that Morus couldn't fathom. While a fighter as large could be expected to take the brunt of the push and stumble back, the boy had never seen someone meet it headlong. He watched as the air around the weapon crackled in the dark, before sizzling to the nothing that was there before. And though his opponent had tensed for a moment, whatever strain he felt was gone as he took slow and careful steps towards Morus.

The boy now felt the cold grip of panic on his neck and down his back. His breaths became more labored, first from the strain of the attack itself, and then from the imagined retributions that well wait in store for him. His heels shuffled back a bit with each step the warrior took towards him, and his knees were as stable as the makeshift rigging the platform was strung to. He stretched out his left arm in instinct, but his hand lost its resolve and caused his to drop his blade to the floor. He dropped down, scrambling amid the sand in a hurried desperation to find it.

”What am I doing?” The boy's thoughts were filled with panic.

Morus had heard tales of demon warriors in his youth. What stood before him could well have been a soldier of Haidia's army, beastly ranks whose campaigns of bloodshed were legendary. Even if he wasn't sure, the very image that conjured in his head caused the cold sweat on his brow to turn to ice. At last his fumbling fingers found his knife, and he took it quickly into his right hand, but with his left, a devious idea pushed the terrors aside for a moment. It lay buried in the sand, so he took all fistful of his he could muster, and stared his opponent straight in the eye. By now, they were but a few feet from each other.

“You speak of tricks?” The boy said coyly. With all the strength his form could muster, he flung the sand up towards the warrior's eyes. But before that even landed, he summoned the same strange force he used before. This time his legs tingled and pricked all the way down to his feet, and he leapt forward from his bent position. His right hand held the blade steady in front of him, as he flung himself as a missile right towards his opponent's left leg. Behind him, a cloud of dust was kicked into the air where he once stood.

He spoke...something about hearing the boy speaking bothered Nosdyn.

He was not sure what it was, but that something was there. Then as quickly as he spoke, the boy tossed up a fistful of sand. Nosdyn was not sure how to react as the sand landed in his face, he did not panic. Let's see where this leads... The sand danced and cascaded through the air, and landed in Nosdyn's face. He closed his eyes and instinctively began to try to wipe the sand from his eyes and face. It didn't bother him THAT much, but it did affect him enough to get distracted.

At that point the boy struck. Nosdyn flinched when the steel dagger penetrated his leg. He barely felt it as his adrenaline was already pumping out in full force. He finished clearing his eyes an looked down at the boy, well within close quarters range. He kept his weapon pointing at the downward forty-five degree angle. ...I am hesitating. I don't know why... He did not want to be seen as being weak or a coward. But killing kids and children often pissed off the wrong people. He liked it. Instead of swinging his weapon he decided on an alternate plan.

The boy plunged his dagger deep into the demon's leg. Nosdyn readied his right fist and clenched it. He suddenly swung it in a round, arcing strike towards the general direction of the boy's head. He clenched his fist as tightly as he could. He didn't intend to knock the boy out just yet, he only wanted to punch the kid. The pain felt good from the boy's stab wound. Black demonic blood poured freely from Nosdyn's injury.

Nosdyn swung his fist, hoping to connect with the side of the boy's head. Nosdyn's eyes stung from the affects of the and in his eyes, but he focused through it. The pain made him feel alive...

The boy's blade had met flesh as he drove it into the demon's leg. Black blood bubbled from the wound and poured into the sand below. He could feel it warm and thick pour over his hands, and a smile flickered on his face. At once Morus felt elated, but a cold realization came over he when he turned his eyes up towards the warrior. He had not flinched even for a moment. He had taken the maiming in stride and now stared down with pitiless eyes towards the urchin, in much the way a disappointed father would. Morus tried in some desperation to remove his weapon, but found he had neither the strength nor stomach to yank it out in time.

The side of his head was met with a strong meaty fist that set him flailing about on the ground. He skidded across the sand with all the grace of a drunken ice skater before finally sprawling out several paces away. His head rung with a high pitched squeal, and he found it hard to breath right. His temple hurt with a fierce pain he hadn't felt in, a splitting headache that twists the guts and causes dry heaving. He lay motionless for a moment before attempting the lamentful rise to his hands and knees. Morus felt the trickle of blood from beneath his hairline, and clutched at his head with care. Matted and greasy locks of black hair were slick with red as he pawed them away from his wound. And though he tried with some considerable effort, he had an immense difficulty in opening his left eye, which sealed itself shut from either shock or fear.

But the most curious thing wasn't the blood or throbbing pain, but the mix of tears that welled in his eyes. He could see their droplets mix with red in the sand, clumping the earth beneath him. His voice was half a breathless huff and half a dismal whine that he couldn't seem to control. As the boy stared back at his opponent, he felt the dreadful truth of their mismatch wash over him.

”Stop it. You wanted this, you fool.” His thoughts were louder than the pulse in his head. ”You wanted to kneel at this altar of agony and accept the Eucharist of suffering. And your salvation is granted.” Still, amid the panic and pity that mixed within him, there was a fiery hate for the beast that just laid him low. He couldn't rationalize the feeling, or why his previous plans mattered so little now. All he could fathom was righting the indignity he'd just suffered.

Morus rose once more to a leaping pose, and summoned another burst of energy with a mewling scream. This time he aimed low, sweeping the ground into a furious miniature sandstorm that went right towards his opponent's leg and his knife still embedded in it. He rushed forward behind the blast, but failed to keep pace with the surge, hoping to land a punch behind the dusty wall.

Nosdyn carefully observed his opponent.

He's confused...not prepared. Something is really wrong here. With a mysterious sound, the blade of his energy based weapon vanished and he latched the long handle back on his belt. He was not going to kill the kid if he could help it. His time in Stonevale had changed him considerably. Long ago, he'd lived a life of servitude for the legion of demons that lived in Haidia. That legion had since turned their back on him and exiled him to add insult to injury. Things were different now, he was acting on his own.

Once he latched his weapon back on his belt, Nosdyn narrowed his eyes. He if conflicted by something. Poor kid probably just is trying to show off for someone...or something. Nosdyn was about to talk to the kid to try to clam his nerves but it happened at that point without his say in the matter. Nosdyn felt a tremendous gust of wind as sand was kicked up in a small storm all around them. The sand was furious as the boy's intent was. Nosdyn readied himself. The miniature sand storm swelled forward and slammed hard into Nosdyn's leg. Already mentally prepared for it...he felt a pang of pain strike him. The boy's fist did connect. Nosdyn was never a speedy fighter, he'd preferred to take damage directly in an attempt to tank it.

As he stood there he looked down at the boy. "I feel sorry for you. Kid." Nosdyn said suddenly with a hint of sadness in his voice. Something was going on with Nosdyn, Stonevale had changed him at the deepest sort of level. Instead of tearing the boy to ribbons, Nosdyn readied his powerful fist. He reached forward with his muscular arm, and attempted to strike the boy's chest. He felt his fist tighten as he swung it through the air. His eyes were narrowed. He could keep hitting the kid until he gave up. That was Nosdyn's primary focus. Nosdyn waited to see the effects of his attack.

As he stared at the boy, he made it a point to memorize the kid's face. He would need it for later...menfolk oft held grudges. And he was almost certain the kid would attempt to hunt him down in payback. Either way, he would be ready. As he considered the situation at hand, he planned and waited. His mind already working with different tactics and strategies. As he swung his fist he waited to see what would happen. He didn't even bother to resist whatever the boy did to him, he merely was fending the kid off from doing any real lethal damage to him...

Sand whipped around in a feverish storm low to the arena floor, but the power behind it seemed too measly when it struck the demon. He stood there without reaction, stoic and methodical, watching Morus even behind the wall of sand. He hadn't kept pace well with the sand blast he'd thrown, and as it fizzled out against his opponent, so did his run slow to a light jog. His opponent's stare didn't lessen at all as he withdrew the pulsing blade from his weapon and clipped it back on to his belt, a move which felt all too mocking to the boy.

”Is he playing with me?” Morus stared back with wide and incredulous eyes, as he heard the warrior chide him in a deep and booming voice. The fear inside the boy turned into confusion, then into a tense anger that stiffened his entire body.

“Sorry? What does that -” He was cut off mid-sentence by a strong right hook that smashed hard into his chest. Again his lithe form slid across the sandy floor before finally arranging itself in a heap just a few paces away from the reflecting pool. For a minute, he felt as if he couldn't breathe. Slowly, through moans and occasional coughs, he gripped at his breast and felt the sore spot just inches from his heart. Air came in small bursts into his lungs and felt like white hot fire with each sputter. The boy tried to rise to his feet, his head still ringing and the single beam of moonlight nearby blinding him as he did, but kept falling to his knees with each gasp of breath.

Morus spit at the ground and tried in some fright to see if any blood was mingled in, but the pain he felt seemed more superficial than he had hoped. He knew his body would rebel at any attempt to rise, and so he remained motionless, almost meditative, hoping to recover just enough strength to charge at the beast again.

“Why,” he began, mewling as he did, “why can't you just kill me?” The boy could no longer face his opponent, choosing instead to trace the path he slid with his eyes.

The question lingered in the air between them.

In his time in Stonevale, something had happened to the demon. Once coldblooded and ruthless, the Demon had developed a strong sense of honour living with the people of Stonevale. he proved Demons and Mortals could live together in virtual peace. As he observed the boy, something inside rose up from within. "You're strong kid. Stronger than you realize." Nosdyn limped slowly towards the boy. The steel blade had caused more damage than Nosdyn would ever let in on. However, the veteran soldier knew how to deal with life's pains and desperation. The boy did not. Finally, Nosdyn spoke again. His voice was srangely calm and sincere.

"You've proven enough today, kid. I don't feel like killing you. I feel you are meant for greater things." Nosdyn said truthfully. He was a pace or two away from the boy at that point. "Regardless of the outcome of this battle, you have earned my respect." Nosdyn said and clenched his fist tightly. No. There would be nobody dying that day. Nosdyn decided to take the matter into his own hands, and would attempt to knock the boy out. "It's been a pleasure." He said and attacked.

He arched backwards with his powerful hand and launched his clenched fist in a arching attack towards the boy's head. His hand was clenched tightly and the knuckles had already popped. He didn't know what would happen from here on in. But he DID know that he wanted to keep the boy as alive as he could. There was something in the boy's eyes. Something that Nosdyn admired. He'd seen such strength before in his days. His fist seemed to slowly move through the air with exact precision. He wanted to attempt to knock the boy out. Hopefully it would turn out that way...

As the demon approached him, Morus' could almost taste the dejection on his lips. He had failed to cause much harm to his opponent, he had failed to put up even a halfway decent fight, and worst of all, he had failed to die with what little dignity his life had to offer. Hell ever after awaited him when he turned eighteen, and his goal of feeling spike through flesh and pain unending melted away to the humiliation of his weakness. Perhaps it was a hell of its own kind, but not really one that would steel him for his fate. His opponent offered platitudes, but the boy would hear none of it. The words of warriors honored a cult of heroism that he never understood, despite the fact that both they and he seemed to so recklessly seek death.

Again Morus felt a fist against his head, and this time he sent his whole world to a dizzying black. His unconscious form fell into the reflecting pool behind him, were his last thoughts were a desperate need for breath, until there was nothing left to think.

***

He awoke what seemed hours later on a cold marble slab. His clothes were still damp from when he fell, and fresh bandages adorned the sore spots on his head and chest. Fussing about him was the same portly monk from earlier, who fiddled with a concoction inside a mortar and pestle. He turned to Morus as he felt him stir, and applied more of a strange smelling substance over the bandages.

“You're lucky, you know,” the monk said half-looking at the boy. “Your opponent went easier on you in there than many would do in his place. Even pulled you out of that pool before your could drown.”

Morus tried to sit up, but could only manage to get halfway. His body was still sore, and the room he was treated in stank so badly of incense that he felt sick to his stomach. He sighed a little, and tried to shoo away the monk's hand, only to be rebuked by a slight slap and a tightened bandage.

“I don't feel so lucky,” the boy moaned. He rested one hand on his head, trying to block out the flickering candlelight that surrounded him.

“Why do you seek death so?” The monk stopped what he was doing to stare down the boy.

“Forgive my impertinence at an impermanent death,” Morus sassed back, but he could see the monk wasn't moved one way or another by his words.

“Death here may not be permanent,” he began, walking over to a bowl of water to wash his hands. “But the memories of it sure are. You might not count yourself lucky, but I envy you.” He finished washing and dried himself on a nearby towel. “You should be able to find your way out when you are able.”

With that the monk left, leaving the boy alone with his thoughts. He curled up against his knees as best he could, and felt again the sting of a tear begin to form in his eye.

After he'd gone out of his way to pull that kid out of the pool, the battle was over.

Nosdyn caught his breath at that point...he was breathing heavy. When the monks showed up and reverted the chamber to it's normal state the portly fellow from before walked up to him. Nosdyn nodded towards the monk for a moment or two.

"Your leg is wounded." The monk said.

"I know." Nosdyn said in response. "I'll have your healers fix me up."

"What were you trying to prove?" The monk suddenly asked.

"That I could show mercy to someone." It was a profound statement. The healers carried the boy, Morus off to the infirmary to begin their work on him. Nosdyn sighed. He felt a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

"Why are you having such a change of heart? I thought all your kind was ruthless." The monk walked alongside Nosdyn as he walked to he healer's area.

"...It's difficult to explain." Nosdyn began as he limped alongside the monk. "My time in Stonevale has influenced me a great deal. I have regained my sense of honour and duty." Nosdyn said very carefully, he did not want to reveal too much though. Stonevale has changed me... He thought to himself.

The monk nodded as he heard what Nosdyn was saying. "Stonevale can have that effect on folks. I've heard stories of that though."

"I was searching for a purpose when I had none." Nosdyn said carefully. "Stonevale provided me with that purpose. For the first time in my life I felt like I could call someplace home, and have someone to fight for." Nosdyn was searching for something for a long time. Answers perhaps, but it was something nonetheless. "Monk. Thank you for giving me this chance to prove myself."

"I've done nothing. However I am glad that Stonevale has given you a purpose." The monk said. "We will need strong warriors like yourself in the coming days." The monk said.

"Monk. I had something I wanted to ask you." Nosdyn said out of the blue.

"What's that?" The monk asked in return.

"Is there really salvation for those like me?" The demon suddenly asked.

"There is always hope." The monk responded. "When you have healed from your injuries seek me out again and I will explain to you a story I heard from my grandfather one time. It was about the old Ixian Knights." The monk said with a small hint of pride in his eyes.

Nosdyn nodded. "The Knights...I have heard of them and their teachings. Very well. When the time is right I will ask you again about them." Nosdyn sat down on a bed in the healing ward. He was tired, but he felt better than he had in a long time. As if he were waking up form a long nightmare. The healers began their work on his leg, and what other injuries he'd received. Much to Nosdyn's surprise the limp that Morus caused would become permanent. The nurse explained that but worked on his leg anyway...Nosdyn closed his eyes and went to sleep.

Thread Title: Palliative Care (Battle)
Judgment Type: Full Rubric
Participants: Morus vs Nosdyn

Current Music: Paper Girl by July Talk

Alright! In Palliative Care we saw Morus repping the red corner, in a bit of a physical mismatch against Nosdyn, who was ballin' in the blue corner. Both combatants entered this battle with fairly unorthodox motivations, and as a result the fight itself was fairly unusual. Not boring, but far from being a barn-burner. My favorite takeaways were Morus' use of setting and Nosdyn's use of communication.

Plot: 19/30 ~ 14/30

Story- 6/10 ~ 5/10

Morus got off to a fast start here, going dark and deep with the backstory of a teenager who knows he will die upon reaching adulthood. In the end, this backstory didn't stay especially strong throughout the battle (though it was touched on a few times), however it did definitely did tie me to the character and provide an appropriate context for his choices. Nosdyn's backstory was a little thinner; I understood that he had traveled from Stonevale and that certain events there had changed him significantly, but the details of that rebirth were never really explored. Both of you can improve by situating the character more clearly in the overall arc of their story, and paying more attention to the way specific events in their past shape their present.

Setting- 7/10 ~ 4/10

Morus, you had an interesting take on the Citadel; it wasn't entirely unique or anything I hadn't seen before, but it still had enough personal details involved to make it yours. Things like the engravings on the doorway and the incense burning in the medical chamber helped to bring the Citadel to life and build a mental image that wasn't stark or bland. You also showed a strong knack for scene composition, choosing to show just the right amounts of what happened to give me a decent picture of the building, without actually starting outside it and describing the whole thing. You also kept the setting fairly consistent, and your character employed it in realistic ways. To improve here I recommend more careful word choice, which may require some extra re-reading/editing, and the implementation of more metaphors, as the ones you used were quite nice.

Nosdyn, your use of setting wasn't particularly strong, in fact you barely paid any attention to it at all. You mostly kept things consistent, but at one point it seemed like Nosdyn literally teleported from the battle chamber to the medical chamber. To improve here I recommend thinking about the unique ways in which your character would a) notice things about the setting and b) change things about the setting. For example, look at the way Morus interacted with it. He rinsed his face in the pool (and almost drowned in it), he weaponized the sand, and he had his blood bead in it. Really think about how the environment would influence your character, and vice versa, and get into expressing that.

Pacing- 6/10 ~ 5/10

There isn't a tremendous amount to say about the pacing in this battle. You both played it safe, and aside from Nosdyn's sudden jump to the medic chamber at the end, you pretty much succeeded at keeping the pacing appropriate for a battle. However, at no point was I on the edge of my seat, and there wasn't a whole lot of overall tension, mostly because of a lack of stakes. Morus (the character) went into the battle expecting and even hoping to lose, and Nosdyn (the character) went in with almost no chance of defeat, so it's not surprising things tuned out a little boring.

Character: 18/30 ~ 16/30

Communication- 5/10 ~ 6/10

Nosdyn had some good moments in the communication department, using dialogue to build up his backstory and character. Morus also started off fairly strong, beginning with a piece of dialogue from the monk which was very telling. However, a lot of Morus' dialogue felt very cliche, especially the line "“I do not bow, or bend,” he shot back. Only break." (And this is coming from someone who frequently gets dinged for cliche dialogue). Overall I think you can both find more ways to bring out your characters with their words. And Nosdyn, please stop writing all dialogue in bold, it hurts the poor judge's eyes.

Action- 6/10 ~ 4/10

Nosdyn, I found your method of having your character "tank" the telekinetic pushes to be fairly unfair. I wouldn't go so far as to call it powergaming, but his response to the push (which was well described by Morus) seemed fairly unrealistic on both occasions. Other than that, while your action rang true to character, it really didn't help to maintain my interest or keep things moving. Nosdyn (the character) basically took out his sword, punched a kid, put the sword away, and then punched the kid a couple more times, and in the process he seemed to take almost no damage (despite the fact he did actually take damage). Regardless of how strong your character's endurance is, you should still play out some response to the enemy's attacks.

Morus, your action was solid but never truly impressed me. I liked the decisions Morus (the character) made, but I felt like he took too long to make them, and some of your posts may have lasted longer ICly than is technically fair for your opponent. I wouldn't go so far as to call it bunnying, but definitely something to think about for future battles. To improve, think about tightening up your action descriptions and keeping them as clear as possible.

Persona- 7/10 ~ 6/10

Both characters had discernible personas that developed over the course of the thread, in keeping with its events and their history. Morus had a stronger narrative voice, which is really what got him the edge here. This is always a tricky place to give advice, but I guess I'd say keep learning more about your characters and keep developing them, good work.

Prose: 18/30 ~ 18/30

Mechanics- 4/10 ~ 6/10

Morus, all I can say is you really need to do some proofreading. I caught a ton of mechanical errors in your posts and I don't think any of them are outside your skill set to fix. Actually there was one that maybe you don't know - in post 1 you wrote that Morus "clamored" to his feet - the word you want here is clambered. Clamor is noise, clamber is climb. Other than that, I think you just need to put in some time re-reading your posts for spelling and grammar.

Nosdyn, I noticed far fewer errors in your posts, there were still some but you're improving in this area. Keep working at it, and remember you don't need to capitalize things like "Demon," "Monk", and "Mortal".

Clarity- 7/10 ~ 6/10

This was a very straightforward battle, and it really only had a couple sticky points where I had to go back and re-read (the main one being Nosdyn's jump to the medic chamber). Good work from both of you, keep at it.

Technique- 7/10 ~ 6/10

I saw some nice instances of literary devices from both of you - Nosdyn had one about the combat platform protesting the warriors that caught my eye, and Morus had a really nice one about the moon reflecting in the water. As above, good job, keep working at it to improve.

Wildcard: 6/10 ~ 6/10

Far from the most exciting battle I've ever read, but also far from the most boring, and an entertaining look at two interesting characters. Well done!

Final Score: 61/100 ~ 54/100

Morus Wins!

Morus receives 1110 EXP and 74 GP!

Nosdyn receives 300 EXP and 66 GP!

Congratulations!

All rewards added.