Conference I Championship: Cyrus the Virus vs. Solomon

His eyes fell wide in horror, still glowing in his skull as he pushed up against the sucking waves with the current of his kicking. It was not the horror most people have, the fear that their lives are suddenly in danger. The fear that they are about to be snatched away from all they know and fall into the greatest unknown. No. Solomon was horrified, but not because of death. Not because he feared the unknown. His attack had fizzled out over some invisible shield upon Luc's skin. He was powerless against the mage, there was nothing he could do to wound him. He was like a child trying to move a wall of stone. Never before had he felt so helpless. It was a feeling that made his stomach turn all the way around inside of him. Not only that, but for what reasons did he put himself on the headsman's block?

Luc mocked him once more as he all-powerfully floated closer to him. Showing not only his scorn, but also his uninterested enthusiasm as to why Solomon had come in the first place. He believed Solomon to be a bounty hunter, or hired assassin. Obviously Luc had someone out there who wanted him dead, but that was not why he was here. He had come on his own whim. He had been sent by the two old sages, but not for any amount of money or any other material reward. They instructed him that to get what he wanted he'd have to kill Luc Kraus. Murder was his only option now. To get his life back he had to take another's.

"My reasons were not selfish. I needed this, I want it all to end." Solomon said. Even though Luc could hear his agitated words, it was not him he directed the answer to. Inside of him, his other half was finally beginning to catch up with him. He was running out of places to flee from his other, ‘better’, half. It was getting harder and harder to hide his cruel motives. This was all a sham, these men were using him for their own schemes. They had something bigger in mind that they needed muscle to do, and he had known that for some time now. What kind of men who wanted to help him would get him to steal and murder?

No. Solomon silently protested. No, it isn't true. I won't let it be true. His eyes burned still, and as Luc smugly placed himself several feet overhead Solomon's hatred began to burn even stronger. He was being used, mocked, and tortured from every side. Luc Kraus toyed with him some more now that he floated there in safety. He moved the waves around him, pulling him from one side to another like he was a boy he wanted to see drowned for his own pleasures.

...I will not go down. Solomon sputtered, exhaling a breath of water that had surged into his mouth. The cold salt burned his eyes and his hair nearly froze in the winds. Nevertheless, he was not going to let himself fall. Even if Luc, in his own way, was giving him an opportunity to account for his actions, Solomon didn't want it. He'd submitted to too many people now. He had been nothing for far too long now.

The waves turning him around and around in place, Solomon pulled all his focus back inside himself. If Luc thought he could let all of his attacks just roll over him, he had another think coming. He focussed inside himself, on the blue swell of light that sat pulsing inside his mind. His life essence, his energy core. With each beat of his heart it pulsed and flickered, and as his voice began to grow, and his teeth gritted, all the while the colours began to flourish and billow out to fill his vision. The Eradication beam was his strongest move. He had seen it chip away stone, dissolve steel armour and expose patches of bone. Even though there was a chance Luc could dodge to either side, or his shield could potentially devour it, it did not matter to Solomon. Not like this. He had to show Luc what he was made of. He was a fighter, and would fight until death took him. Death was his hope now. Death was what he deserved.

The energy pulsed within him. His voice rumbling inside his chest like a constant drum, and his fists closed so tight that the water could not even sneak inside. The power made his body quiver, if ever so slightly, and with his eyes burning in furry and his teeth nearly crushing one another he brought his right fist down to his belt. He didn't say a word as his fist began to tremble, and the pressure of the beam began to push his throbbing fingers apart from one another. He just kicked up with his legs, breaking through Luc's little torrent of waves. His voice thundered up towards the floating man, as if his deep winded screech was the assault and not the energy. In only a second his palm was shoved out in front of him, and a flash of blinding light preceded the beam.

The energy poured forth from Solomon like a great river that has finally destroyed it's dam. He heard nothing but his own voice, roaring on through his body. He could see nothing but the brilliant blue, nearly white, beam as it spread widely from his palm and up towards the near flying foe. As the power left him and his body could no longer sustain his cries the light began to flicker out from his eyes, and his legs let him fall back into the waters.

A languid, long sigh escaped Luc then. Solomon seemed to be pleading with his own situation, playing the role of helpless pawn. The mage knew the position all too well, having controlled a large number of people in his own life. It was a skewed perspective, to say the least, and did nothing to appeal to Luc’s empathy – not that such a thing was Solomon’s goal.

The man in the water began to summon power. Luc could feel it growing as clearly as he could feel the breeze against his skin. It was impressive enough to cause the mage to abandon his manipulation of the water and soar a bit higher, a bit farther, just in case.

Then the light came, a fantastic explosion of roaring thunder, bright as lightning. The water lit up with the beam’s presence, exposing seaweed in the stomach of sea, shedding light upon Luc’s floating, glowing form. The beam struck him hard, washing over Luc’s body and carrying on beyond him, as if it sought to incinerate his being and leave no remains in its wake. Confident in his spell, Luc did not flinch, and surely enough he showed no signs of effect after the beam had fulfilled its course. Now the green aura was gone, and with it, his protective enchantment. Grey smoke wafted up from his being for just a second, a telltale sign that the Eradication Beam could have burned right through him if it had been given the chance.

“The dead of Greenacre would be horrified to see how much of my charity you’ve wasted. They would have given anything to receive so much from me.”

Solomon had made it obvious that he wasn’t going to speak. He was a pathetic anchovy in Luc’s massive pool, set to be smashed, burned, maimed and killed in any way the mage could imagine. No light waves spawned to burden Solomon this time, as Luc’s patience was gone. The mage threw up his hands, calling to the water, beckoning the area surrounding Solomon to heed his call. A cylindrical wall surrounding the man rose, at least twenty feet into the sky, before the tops caved in and fell down, creating a waterfall on top of poor Solomon’s head.

Luc chanted a quiet, repeating beckoning, so that water was constantly flowing up this cylinder and then collapsing on the inside in heaps. He would make the fool drown, a painful death for yet another man foolish enough to hunt him – whatever his reasons had been.

“The dead of Greenacre would be horrified to see how much of my charity you’ve wasted. They would have given anything to receive so much from me.” Luc said to him, floating in his authority high overhead. The mage's curious tone of voice had died, revealing a voice now as hollow as his heart. Solomon could not see him through his closed eyes, he could only hear him, and the unsettled world around them both. He floated on his back, a strange and choked smile leaking out over his lips. The beam had failed. His last, and greatest burst of strength was merely evaporated as it touched his shield. It didn't even singe a hair on Luc’s grimacing head.

Kill me then, Luc. Kill me, and put me away for good. The words in his head encouraged his powerless smile, and he lay rolling on the waves in their calm between Luc's unrelenting storms. His body still had some strength left in it. If he really wanted to, he could try and get away. He had the strength to swim and climb the walls, but what was the point? He had come here to kill a man, and it was all for naught. He had fought Luc Kraus to the ends of his ability, and now he'd get what was coming to him.

All he wanted was a reason. Something to keep his mind off his troubles. After he fought off the thieves of Durham, that one great feat of accomplishment, he had spent so much time idle and doing nothing. He battled in the citadel, wandered without cause, and ended in various bars being ignored by the population and never ordering anything. Trying to solve what was going on in his life. He followed the orders of these men, all the while they became more manipulative and controlling he obeyed them anyway. He just needed a purpose again. Something, anything, to live for. His father had died before his training was complete. He had been learning how to do battle and to fight off foes, but for what reason? To help people? He had used his powers to save an little Inn from being overrun by the pirates only months ago; only to see Kira dead in his arms by the end of the night. What was the point? What did he think he could possibly do?

The water around him began to tremble, and Luc's patience was lost with the winds around him. It was over now. He was going to end him, and carry on with his life as though Solomon was never a part of it. He smiled a little broader as his body was carried on to his watery tomb. As Luc manipulated the waters his body swirled around in the forming whirlpool, an excellent image for his ending life. He had been slowly drowning since he had been released into the world, and now he would finally reach the bottom. As the water burst up around him, Solomon gave one last grin to the cold and brutal world. His eyes clenched as thought they were tearing, but his lips twitching as though his was laughing. Without a moment to spare he was sucked down into the depth, the water falling down on top of his head and beating him to the filth of the ocean floor.

The noises around him were frantic, and the water fell on him like a dozen hammers. However he allowed himself just to lay there, his arms shielding his face from the water, but he did not worry about his fading breath. It wasn't long before the sounds all around him just seemed to merge together as one simple background noise, and in that moment he forgot where he was. He faded back to his memories, the water falling upon him and filling his grave. He was glad, to say the least. He wasn't doing any good in this world, and now he's be rid of it. There was not a soul left behind who would miss him. perhaps Rakiet might one day hear what had become of him and show a little disappointed that he had been defeated in a battle, but miss him? That was unlikely. True, he was a friend, but even so their friendship had not been long lived.

As he seemed to withdraw from his body; it growing colder and colder and the falling hammers seeming to fade his mind fell back to his energy core. The swirling blue mass that always sat in the back of his mind. Even though it did not physically exist, to the Xry's this image was far more valuable than a physical heart or brain. This is what they were, according to legends. This was their very essence, and could never be extinguished. Even in death it would live on. Where would he go after this? Perhaps he'd finally meet Kira and his father in the next world. He could reunite himself with them, and finally seek peace on the other side. He had battled so long and so hard for their memory to stop haunting them, now it would finally be over.

However, as he lay there, warm in thoughts while his body grew colder, a suddenly thought came over him. Sweeping out from his mind like an errand suddenly remembered. He felt his smile beginning to twitch away from his face, and for a moment he turned away from the warm image of Kira, and Callahan (his father) as they stood somewhere off in the darkness.

What will they think of you now? You're a quitter! The words suddenly burst forth from his mind. Immediately Solomon felt the emotion he had been trying to avoid all the while his world fell in around him. His body began to twist under the pain again, his lungs clutching inside of him in need for air. The images in his mind no longer looked at him in longing, but instead with eyes of scorn and disappointment. All they had seen in him, all his father had done for him, and the man that Kira had shared a kiss with. It was all nothing but some schmo in the filth of the ocean. Giving up while his body could still go on.

Solomon tried to scream as he forced the images away, not wanting to face them after all of this. However, his body was being tortured and his breath was nearly nothing. He reached out, trying to pull himself back up, but the water kept him down. He jutted his head out, stealing fragments of air in between the gushing waters as Luc pummelled him from above.

I'm sorry... I'm so sorry He whispered in the back of his mind, speaking to the images he had just lost. What had he done? What kind of fool was he? He tried to focus his energy core, trying to keep stable enough to fight against the water. However Luc was too strong, and the only thing he could do was snatch a few breaths in the pockets of the falling water. As he looked up through the pulverising torrent, seeing Luc high above him, Solomon knew what strength he needed to finally win. He couldn't defeat Luc's magic, but he still had enough strength to keep himself alive. He had never called upon this power before, but now that he was seeing clearly for the first time in so long, he knew it could work.

Pushing his legs off the ground as best he could he floundered around in the waters like a drowning child, trying to keep his head above the water. His eyes burning in his own freezing tears, his voice ripped out through his aching throat as he fought to stay above the water.

"I surrender!" He shouted against the roaring waters, hoping Luc could still hear him. "I yield."

Yielding was a funny thing, a disposal of one’s dignity in the face of death. If this were the Citadel, Luc would have laughed and carried on with his drowning of the fool, perhaps even spawning a few arrows of ice when his patience ran thin. Sid had given up the fight after Luc had charred his flesh, and it had been the defining moment of Luc’s transition from a troublemaker to a killer. It had shown the mage how much he enjoyed holding power over others.

He had no profound thoughts, no epiphany similar to Solomon’s own. This, after all, was just the kind of everyday occurrence that the spiteful Luc Kraus had grown accustomed to. Still, as he watched the man’s struggles and his declaration of weakness, Luc let his attack end, the walls of the cylinder falling back down to meet the water’s surface. From below him a pillar of water arose, freezing as it reached Luc and forming into a throne of ice. For no reason but to be flashy, Luc sat pensively on it.

“How many chances did I give? I must be in the most generous of moods today,” he muttered to himself, not quite caring whether Solomon could hear him or not.

Behind him the moon shined brightly, casting an ominous shadow over the mage’s face and body. The ice of his throne cast rays of moonlight onto his clothing, lighting up the golden embroidery on his shoulders. He would have looked like a king, if not for the lack of a crown.

“One more chance,” he said, articulating his point with one steady, impatient finger. “Why did you come?”

"To carve out your heart..." Solomon said, all the world growing calm around him. He was several feet before the glittering throne that Luc Kraus had summoned to further glorify his victory. Still though, who won and who lost was not a big factor in Solomon's mind right now. Rather, he was concerned if he would now live or die at the hand of the mighty conjuror.

He floated in place. His head and shoulders protruding from the surface while his chest still expanded in great heaves. The waters had calmed down now, as though they hoped that Luc would finally be finished with them. Solomon could see the ripples from his waving hands and feet as they kept him afloat. The cold of the water was beginning to bother him now, the pillar of ice so close by not helping this at all. Despite all his strengths, the mage had begun to wear him out now. His arms were beginning to feel weighted and stiff as they fought off the chill around him, and if he did not concentrate his jaw began to tremble. However, he had to sit there and wait. He had appealed for the mercy of the mage. He was at his disposal now.

"I was sent by two old men." Solomon continued. "I failed to retrieve a crystal they wanted, I never asked why they wanted these things, but once I failed they demanded a powerful replacement. The heart of Luc Kraus. They knew you by name."

Solomon made sure that his voice carried, but he did not have the strength to look up and the mage's face. It wasn't out of fear as much as it was shame, for there was no denying it. He had been the villain in this affair. Luc was an innocent man. It was up to Luc to decide his fate, all he could hope for was that if he did choose to drown him, then at least his slate was wiped clean.

"I'm sorry." He said to the man.

Perceptions could so easily create a skewed point of view. Solomon’s thoughts of Luc’s innocence, for example, were painfully ignorant of reality. If the man had known a single thing about the mage, he’d have known that Luc had many, many punishments awaiting him in the afterlife. Solomon’s ignorance of Luc’s transgressions, some of which had shaken Corone’s entire population, would have been the man’s death if Luc knew about it.

As it was, Solomon was temporarily safe in the water. Luc was satisfied to sit upon his chilly throne, chin in his fingers, thinking passively about what his would-be assassin was saying. His explanation was incredulous, lacking any semblance of sense or reason. Luc found himself rolling his green, pensive eyes.

“Absurd,” he coughed as Solomon finished his apology, one the mage ignored entirely. “Two old men requested my heart for no reason, and you serve them for no purpose? Your lack of detail is very, very troubling. I will encourage you to relay as much information as you can, while I allow you to draw breath.”

From the corner of his eye Luc saw movement. Turning his head, the mage perceived a group of six people, watching intently the scene before them. To their left were the remains of the dock, now merely a jutting, blackened stump extending from the grassy shore. Pillars of charred wood stuck up from the water, burning still and sending black smoke into the midnight sky. Debris littered the water.

They knew who he was, of course. They lived in Radasanth, a city that had been his playground for the better part of three months. Greenacre had been only two miles west from the Corone capital, before Luc and the Audeamus disposed of it. Word traveled fast, and people could tell who he was just by his apparel.

There was an obvious curiosity in their collective gaze, but Luc quickly turned his attention back to the bobbing Solomon.

“I want to know where they are, these men.”

Stay focussed, you're not out of this yet. Solomon prompted himself. There was no getting out of this easily, as a mere apology did not excuse him from a fight he had initiated. However, there wasn’t much holding him back at this point. Months and months of confusion and guilt had just reached their breaking point, and now he was laying it all at Luc's feet as though he were an adequate judge of his deeds. If, after this, Luc killed him then it was a death he thoroughly deserved. If Luc left him, then he had the chance to continue on. Already he was making vows inside his own head to never fall this low again, to never let his mind become so contaminated. If he was given the chance, he would do better, he would not live in vanity.

"I confess I fall short on explanations." Solomon said aloud, his eyes still avoiding the man as he answered his questions. "My mind and my spirit have been in a terrible conflict, I followed the sages like a lost sheep. I acted selfishly, stubbornly, and crudely. And for that, I apologise." He further explained. He had never been that good at speaking to other people, he knew this based on the expressions he normally received. He was either too elaborate, or he just sounded out of place. It was a result of spending so much time in isolation, talking to no one but himself. Funnily enough his social handicap was one of the things that Kira thought cute about him. He smiled as that thought returned to him.

Luc had turned his focus for a moment, and suddenly Solomon became aware of other presences around them, even though he could not see them. Spectators had gathered, and responding to the hints his body was giving him he started to swim towards a portion of the dock. The water would be warmer over there, and it would give him something to hold onto. He swam slowly enough that Luc wouldn't suspect him of anything. There was no hope of escape until Luc was 'finished' with him anyway.

The moon's light still illuminated the battle scene, the only other witness to the events that had occurred here in the night. The debris in the water, and the victorious Luc Kraus upon his cold throne all basked in her dim silver glow. Solomon had just reached his hands out to one of the crumbled stumps only ten feet from where he had just been treading the water before the throne. A new thought occurred to him as Luc made one more demand of him. Sitting there on his throne above a ruined battleground, and a beaten foe. If Solomon could guess anything about the man, it would have been he was best friends with his ego. Had he known this going into the battle, he would have tried flattery until he could get close enough to strike. An attempt to put Luc off his guard. Whether or not it would have worked was beyond him at this point, but something inside him told that Luc might like the thought of a cowering slave wanting to come near him rather than a troubled brute. Still though, the battle had played it's way out for more important reasons. With the way his mind had been functioning he couldn't have brought himself to be that 'humble' anyway.

"They move from place to place." Solomon confessed, keeping one arm on a burnt stump of what was once the dock. "They intercept me after my duties. They will be waiting around the gates of Radasanth for my-." Solomon cut himself off, now looking up to the pillar of ice. He didn't want to say 'waiting for my return.' He didn't want to press his luck.

His legs crossed, Luc stared into the distance as he listened to Solomon, thinking all the while. It was too common an occurrence for him to sit in silence, listening to a failed assassin spill his story and thoughts. The scenario was often similar, with Luc standing above a defeated foe as he explained who hired him – in the end, the assassin’s fate was left to Luc’s whim at that moment.

As Solomon finished talking, Luc’s throne began to melt, falling apart in chunks and plummeting to the water below. The mage was left floating in the air once more, blinking hard as he considered his course.

“I don’t know why I’m being so kind,” Luc spoke, his voice carrying in the empty wind. “But I do think I’ll let you live tonight.”

It wouldn’t make much sense from Solomon’s perspective, the mage knew. Solomon had, regardless of how unsuccessful he’d been, attacked Luc. For that and for much less, Luc had killed many men. He himself was unsure of his own thinking, but Luc made some sense of it – he wanted to send a message to the man in the water below, a message he could send to others. The ring on his hand began to glow a bright, searing red.

Then with a wide sweep of his right hand, Luc manipulated the earth by the shore next to the six onlookers. A great hand of stone, dirt and mud rose languidly, hungrily, from the ground and washed over them all, driving them to the ground with so much force that each body was brutally crushed. There had hardly been a moment for any of them to scream.

When he looked back to Solomon, it was with a grin devilish and delighted enough to curl skin. “I will slay a few dozen people tonight in your name, whatever it may be, including these sages that wanted my heart. Live on with their blood on your hands.”

With two spoken words, Luc’s body phased into translucence and took on the form of wind, whisking his conscience away and presumably toward Radasanth’s gates, where the mage hoped to find some shocked old men to slowly kill.

Solomon had been spared, but Luc hoped the man would be forever haunted by his promise. That, the mage thought, would be a punishment even more cruel than death.

((I leave the sages' fate up to you, Sols! Nice battle, bud.))

It was strange how in times of trouble, and when true feelings really come out, a person can feel as though their listener actually understands them and their dilemmas. The more he had been explaining himself, the more it seemed he was actually reaching out to Luc. To admit his folly, and humble himself in hopes of being forgiven. Although he knew Luc was angry with him, for who wouldn't be if he had just tried to kill them, he had no idea of Luc's true nature. Solomon had been the villain in this fight, up until that moment when the insidious mage revealed what he was; and suddenly his mind was flooded with horror, his breath snatched from his body.

“I will slay a few dozen people tonight in your name, whatever it may be, including these sages that wanted my heart." Luc said to him, floating in the air as though he was anything but a mortal. His brows and his lips bent and stretched wretchedly, purposely out to haunt him in his dreams from that day forward. "Live on with their blood on your hands.”

Solomon didn't even need to turn his head for his eyes to see. There, clutching his stump of burnt wood in silent fear, clinging to it as though it was a dying friend, he felt the surge in Luc's spirit and then the crash of his fatal attack. The shores just behind him shifted to his whims, and the onlookers that had gathered together in the night were swallowed up by the earth. With one last look into the murderer's eyes, Solomon’s fear and his anguish giving Luc just what he wanted, Solomon saw the man no more. The battle was over, and a mage was out to settle his wrath.

Solomon did not move. He did not make a sound. His mouth hung open and his chest trembled with his breath. His eyes stared out over the horizon, but focused on nothing. He looked as though he wasn't even a part of his body anymore.

What have I done? The question seemed more empty than ever, like he had asked it in a vacant hallway. Every door he knocked upon gave no answer, and every light that sneaked through the cracked was snuffed out. For that short moment between this, and that quiet void where he had come so close to death he had felt as though peace was returning to him. Now it had been taken away from him. What had he done?

You've done nothing! These are his true colours. He'd kill regardless. Another side of his conscience came back to his defence. However it did not seem to alleviate him at this point, all he did was tread the water with his hand on the stump, and look onwards as the clouds softly covered the moon.

What have I done?

The climb out of the water took him far longer than it should have. With his body still numb in places from the water, and his strength lessened, a five minute climb turned out to be nearly half an hour. All the while Solomon felt his horror of what had happened stinging through his stomach like a frozen spear. However, as he climbed the feelings began to morph into sorrow, and from there they burned inside of him like rage once again. Perhaps there was a reason the wicket old men wanted his heart. Luc Krause was an evil man.

As he pushed himself up onto the shore, his damp form nothing more than a dim smudge against the fading horizon, he looked onwards towards Radasanth. A single bit of wisdom imprinting itself on his mind. Something his father had never said to him, but it seemed to take on his voice regardless.

"We fight because we can." The familiar voice encouraged him. "Those who have the potential to do so must. If not for themselves, then for those who cannot."

With this in mind Solomon walked on into the darkness. He had done wrong tonight, and he would never forget that. Even if Luc Kraus was a murder to begin with, it was Solomon who had invoked his vengeance. People were going to die, along with the two old men who had sent him. He did not have the strength to stop him. Perhaps not now, but in the future he would. So long as he never forgot why he continued, or what it was those two lost souls whom he loved so much did see in him once upon a time. He could rightfully put men like Luc Kraus in their place, and no longer live with the questions of why he was and where he was going.

"I will never forget you, Luc Kraus." Solomon muttered into the void between the shore and the city walls. "Know that when we meet again, it was you who made me that man."

((Luc kills the sages, and makes it home in time for tea. Thanks for the fight!))

Continuity:

Cyrus: Normally, I’d dock you for not giving all that much of a background story on your end of the battle. That said, it was sort of Luc’s role in the story to have no particular reason for being there. 6

Solomon: You had a much more distinguished purpose in the battle, but I would have liked to know more. Who were the sages? What connection did Solomon have with them? This, among a few other things, would have made this a very effective category for you. 6


Setting:

Cyrus: Solid, if a little brief at times. 6

Solomon: Minor advantage to you here. I thought you gave greater description with more vivid language. 7


Pacing:

Cyrus: Good. 7

Solomon: Good. 7


Action:

Cyrus: I thoroughly enjoyed this part of the battle from both of you. Luc played the battle like a chess grandmaster… 7

Solomon: …and Solomon wasn’t afraid to make tactical mistakes with his character. I think you guys made a fight that felt very real. 7


Persona:

Cyrus: Luc felt like a generic baddie to me. “I’m badass, I can kill everything, I’m in a good mood so you can live, but I can’t look kindhearted so they die.” I didn’t feel much in Luc that was unique. 5

Solomon: Where Cyrus came up short, I thought you went too far. You tended to repeat main points of Solomon’s troubles in every post. Also, your character thought way too much in the battle, and it wasn’t always new thoughts. Say enough so that your reader understands Solomon’s feelings… but give the reader credit for a modest amount of intelligence. He can get the message without you assisting it into his ear via a hammer. 5


Dialogue:

Cyrus: The dialogue fit the situation, but it wasn’t anything special. 6

Solomon: Ditto. 6


Mechanics:

Cyrus: Great. I saw two errors in the entire thread. 8

Solomon: More errors on your part. Nothing that killed the reader’s focus, though. 7


Technique:

Cyrus: Solid. 6

Solomon: A little lacking of finesse on your part. Many of your posts seemed to take on a pattern of “I’m screwed, I can’t do it… no, I have to do it!” 5


Clarity:

Cyrus: Good. 7

Solomon: There were a few hazy pieces. The part where you explained Solomon’s intent with the pillars was somewhat confusing, and there were some areas where you could have compacted paragraphs into sentences and been just as – if not more – effective. 6

Wild Card:

Cyrus: Take a 6 for finishing the thread.

Solomon: Take a 6 for finishing the thread.



Total Score: 64 – 62

Cyrus the Virus wins and advances to the Finals.

This was a very good effort by both of you.

Cyrus gains 2475 EXP and 500 GP.
Solomon gains 675 EXP and 100 GP.