Round Begins at 12:01 AM May 3rd. The Icy Orlouge Vs The Coralian Accountant! Good Luck!
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Round Begins at 12:01 AM May 3rd. The Icy Orlouge Vs The Coralian Accountant! Good Luck!
Rehtul stepped into the ring. His mind felt like it was going a million miles per second as his footfalls echoed across the floor. He noted that surrounding this wooden walkway were various little areas, like gardens, but beautiful in their attention to detail. He could tell someone put in a lot of work on them. Immaculately maintained grass, flowers in their perfect positions, pools of reflective water, tiny manmade waterfalls.
“Everything has its proper place, very orderly, even if it is also for aesthetic effect,” Rehtul said as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled up piece of paper he’d read over multiple times over the last few days.
Those in possession of this letter are hereby invited to join the Serenti Invitational, it read, along with instructions on how to get to the tournament, as well as various other rules and things of note. Rehtul was still quite shocked that his uncle, Sei Orlouge, would be willing to part with such a thing, though the running of the Ixian Knights, along with several family emergencies, would inevitably make it impossible for him to come.
But why me? Rehtul asked himself for the five hundredth time, just in that day alone. I’m not a fighter. Someone like Jensen would have been far more able to make full use of this invitation that I would.
“Oh well,” he said out to the air around him. “If this is what the old man wants, I suppose I’ll have to make do with the hand I was dealt.” This time, he was representing the Ixian Knights at a grand tournament. No matter what else there was to be said on the subject, the entire truth of the matter was that he would have to do his best, so as not to embarrass his uncle, his father, or the hundreds of other Knights who would have shown up to watch him and anyone else from the organization to be invited to the tournament.
He hopped off the wooden pathway and knelt beside one of the flowers, taking in its scent with a smile. The aroma of flowers was one of his favorite things, though his particular forte of magic would inevitably end up killing them if he released it. He turned to the small pool of water next to the little patch of flowers and dipped his fingers into the water, watching with absent amusement as flakes of frost began to form in the water.
“Good, it is real water, then,” he said. With that out of the way, he stood up and wiped his hand off on his shirt. He looked back over the area surrounding him. “I know I’ve seen this type of garden before, albeit on a much smaller scale. Is it modeled after the gardens in Akashima, perhaps?”
He could easily believe this to be the case. The long, polished wooden walkways, the man-made peace of each of the small garden areas, and the steam rising off of what appeared to be a hot spring further down the path. All of it pointed to being modeled after the societal norms of the Akashiman region of Corone.
“That... certainly makes sense.”
He jumped up to the walkway and looked both ways down it. It seemed to infinitely stretch in either direction, though Rehtul knew there would be at least one exit somewhere. He sat down and crossed his legs over one another. Since he was going to be greeted by an opponent h ere, he might as well relax and save his energy for the fight, instead of running around, and possibly missing the other person.
Besides, he thought, looking into the noonday sun, no use for two people to look for one another, when one of us staying stationary will speed up the process.
Maribel made her way through a beautiful garden. One that would make most feel at peace and happy. Maribel however wasn't here to enjoy the peace of the garden. No, instead she was here to ruin the peace. She was here for a fight. A fight she was invited too. She was in the Serenti. So, with determination to complete the task at hand, Maribel made her way through the garden in search of her opponent.
It didn't take Maribel long to find her opponent. "She" was a beauty to say the least. "Her" long, white hair was tipped with blue. "She" was in a robe that probably hung down to "her" feet. A cape, that probably belonged to "her" lover, hung from "her" shoulders. The robe and cape were both white with a ice blue trim. This "woman" had to have a thing for ice and snow.
Maribel gave her opponent another once over before she cleared her throat and said, "Excuse me miss. But I believe we are opponents this fine day. My name is Maribel and I hope to enjoy the battle ahead.
Rehtul heard footsteps behind him and could feel the person’s eyes appraising him. The hair on the back of his neck stood up, and he fidgeted for a moment before looking over his shoulder, his narrow eyes looking at them as they called him “miss.” With a short chuckle, he stood and turned on his heel to look the woman directly in the eyes, his ice blue eyes catching her own with a bemused look.
“First time in years I’ve been mistaken for a woman,” he said, a hint of laughter in his voice. He bowed to the woman, his eyes never leaving hers, in the style of the Akashimans. As he came up from his bow, he rolled the sleeves of his white robes up before adjusting a set of buckles hidden around his elbows to lock the sleeves in that higher position, freeing his forearms for maximum movement.
He adjusted his cape as well, brushing the long stretches of cloth that covered his arms over the back of his shoulders, where they folded next to the shorter center of the piece of clothing. A single lock of his hair fell into his eyes, and he tucked it easily behind his ear. He stood there, looking the woman over for a moment. Her brown hair hung to roughly the same place as his own, and she stood perfectly straight, a woman used to having control in her environment if he ever saw one.
From her closed body language, he could tell that she was every inch a no-nonsense type of person, similar to himself and his father. She didn’t seem to be particularly suited to battle, however, though Rehtul had made that assumption before and been proven wrong. A person could never tell about another person’s battle readiness based purely off of their looks. As he finished surveying the woman, overlooking her rather plain clothing, he nodded his head.
“Indeed, however, I am your opponent for the tournament,” he said. He smiled and said, “My name is Rehtul Orlouge, Mystic, Elementalist, and researcher into the powers of magic, both grand and minute. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
With the niceties out of the way, at least on his end, he smiled once more and held out a single hand, palm up, in the most unthreatening manner possible. A cool breeze blew through the gardens from west, causing Rehtul’s hair to flow along with it. With a snarl, he produced a comb from within one of the pockets on his robes and placed the errant locks of hair back into their original places.
“Apologies for that,” he said, placing the comb back into his pocket, “I suppose we should begin. Would you like the first move, milady?"
Maribel nodded as she said, "Indeed we shall, and sorry for the mistaken gender Mr. Orlouge." She then threw her pencil at the young man as she came up behind it in order to try to catch him off guard. Her hair and robe flew behind her as she ran forward. Once she was close she brought her fist up in order to attempt a sucker punch.
Rehtul listened as she admitted that the two of them should indeed start, and smiled. The woman then did something intriguing, throwing a pencil in front of him. He was unsure if it had some kind of hidden power or not, so decided not to take any chances, breathing out slowly as the air around him began to mist, the temperature dropping ever so slightly around his body. As the small wooden item entered the mist, it began to slowly frost over before he reached out and caught it in a single gloved hand.
He saw that it was indeed just a regular pencil, and wondered why she threw it at him. He realized just a split second too late, however. It’s a feint! he screamed inside his head as a fist slammed hard against his jaw, sending him spiraling toward the ground in a most ungraceful manner. He landed flat on his shoulders and gasped in pain.
Sighing, he untangled himself from his robes and cape and stood up, the mist beginning to coalesce around his body.
And now my shoulders hurt, he complained inwardly as he rotated both of his shoulders to stop the pain in his shoulder blades.
“My turn, then,” he said simply as he held out his right hand next to him, dropping the pencil and extending his fingers out. The mist around him began to quickly gather in his hand before spreading out in two directions, straight up and down. The air around the quickly forming ice creation seemed to come to a standstill, almost as if the world was holding its breath, waiting for the spell to end.
A shaft of ice was the first thing to appear, as Rehtul’s hand closed into a fist around the ice form. It then proceeded to flow in either direction as it ended in a large, flat blade. Seven feet of weapon had been created from the moisture in the air around the young man, and he intended to use every single drop of moisture he had gathered to his advantage.
Without a second thought, he rushed the woman with his spear, his eyes glinting with amusement. He’d never been sucker punched before. It had been an interesting experience, if not one that he would ever like to revisit. As he finally approached the woman, he lunged the spear forward with its full length, attempting to skewer her.
Maribel inwardly applauded herself for hurting an Orlouge, one of the strongest and richest families on Althanas. but that was short lived when Rehtul stood back up and just shook it up like it was nothing. To make matters worse. Her arm was extremely cold from the mist he breathed out to freeze her pencil, which now laid useless on the ground.
However, the next thing that happened actually got her nervous, not that it showed. The man made a spear of ice. A long pointy stick made of ice! As he thrust forward to try to turn her into frozen shish kabob. However, she had trained for such a weapon before and quickly spun out of the path of the ice sickle of death. She then tried to grab the spear with her hand.
Rehtul smiled as the woman danced around his lunge with a surprising amount of grace. He let go of the spear as she gripped it, laughing inwardly at the fact that she’d be lucky to be able to hold onto the frozen shape for very long. He could see it now, before it even happened. It was likely that the biting cold would force her to drop the item almost immediately. Even if she didn’t, it would eventually overwhelm her, and the spear would drop back to the wooden pathway beneath them. He would just have to wait for that to happen.
He jumped back, to remain out of the range of his own weapon as he drew his blue steel dagger from his belt.
I can’t afford to waste all of my magical energy making new weapons until I see what this woman is actually capable of, he thought simply.
With his dagger firmly in hand, he looked at the woman simply and had a brilliant idea. The air around him began to mist again as he summoned a small amount of his magical energy. Mist began pouring from the reflecting pools surrounding the wooden walkway, and crept up underneath the woman. Starting from the bottom of the unblemished wood, frost began to creep up through it. A loud groan started to echo through the area as Rehtul held out a single hand, two fingers pointing directly at the floor beneath the woman, Maribel.
He thrust his fingers upward, causing the frost within the wood to solidify, creating immense strain on the walkway and causing it to splinter, crack, and finally break. He jumped forward at that exact moment, his dagger at the ready. With a small, simple motion, he slashed the dagger, aiming to cut the woman’s chest wide open.
Thank the Thaynes that the monks are here to heal us up after these battles, or I’d be way more worried about hurting this woman.
(Bunny permitted by Rehtul)
Maribel released the spear as soon as she grabbed it. 'Man that's cold,' she thought as the spear fell to the ground and shattered. Right as the spear shattered she heard it, the creaking of the wood under her feet. She looked down and noticed that frost covered the wood.
Suddenly the wood cracked, so she jumped forward only to see the knife headed straight for her chest. 'Well, this is going to hurt,' she thought as she put the hand that had grabbed the spear up and let the knife sink into it as she grabbed the hand that held the knife. however, she noticed that it didn't feel the pain at all.
'Must be numb from the cold,' Maribel thought as she pulled the Rehtul close and brought her elbow down onto his arm to break it with a crack. As soon as she heard the crack she released his dagger and pulled back to assess the damage done to her opponent as well as to her hand.
Rehtul gasped as his arm was broken by the woman’s expert disarming attack, watching in disgust as the dagger fell limply from his hand. He watched her, eyes ablaze with fury as she jumped back to take stock of the damage. He was getting sick of her dodgy antics, and it was beginning to show. He cupped his limp arm and scowled. This was the second time he’d been disarmed by her, and worse, now his right arm was crippled. He considered trying to heal it with his Light Magic, but he had yet to master repairing bone.
Damn you, he cursed to himself. The mask of his self control was finally starting to crack under the pressure this woman had managed to put on him. He hadn’t been able to land even a single one of his intended blows yet, and she had managed to simply avoid even the breaking of the wood walkway. It was irritating, to say the very least.
“I’ll hand it to you, you’re a lot better at this than I’d have first thought,” he said, his voice reduced to little more than a growl. He lifted his left hand over his head as the air around him began to mist once more. “Of course, it’s been pretty fun too. You’re great at up close and personal combat. I shouldn’t have underestimated that much about you, I’ll admit. However...”
Droplets of water began to rise from the small pools on either side of the walkway as Rehtul continued to focus his energy into the air around him, drawing toward him in streams, rivers floating in the air around him. The water continued to gather from around him as he smiled darkly. He could feel the power welling up from within him, allowing him to access ever increasing amounts of power as he continued to fight strong opponents.
The beads of water continued to gather inside of the mist around his body, forming into small, three inch long needles of ice, sharpened to a deadly point. The mist cleared as the ice finished forming, floating there in the air around the young Mystic. He could feel the eyes of Sei and his father Succed upon him, judging him, criticizing his every mistake.
“I am no slouch, especially when it concerns ranged attacks. Prepare yourself!” he said simply as he pointed his hand, finger outstretched at the woman before him, releasing a barrage of no less than twenty total needles at Maribel.
“I will not allow myself to lose,” he muttered, more for his own benefit than for the intimidation effect. “At least not yet...”
Maribel's eyes widened with shock for a split second before they returned to the focused and indifferent expression that she tended to hold. That spit second cost her though as she was hit and sent to the ground. The icy needles froze the area's that they hit. Lucky for her, non hit her chest. However her arms were now numb and her diaphragm's movement was hindered. she had trouble getting breath and was in a state of shock.
However, she knew of one more thing she could do to try to win this fight. Maribel pushed herself from the ground and slowly stood she then straightened her back and walked towards the man. however she stopped and bent down to pick up the pencil that had been discarded earlier. The cold entered her hand but she ignored it has she huffed on the pencil. She then pulled out a bank note, showed it to the man before she put it on the clip board. "How much will it take for you to throw this match Mr. Orlouge?" Maribel asked with a smile, "Name your price and I will give it to you. After all, everyone has a price. Oh, and if gold is not your thing, I'm sure we can come to some other agreement."
Rehtul watched with no small amount of satisfaction as his attack connected with the woman. He watched her as she calmly stood up and walked forward to pick up her pencil, before placing it in her clipboard. Her next move, however, floored him. His eyes widened ever so slightly as she made her offer.
His mouth turned upward in a slight smirk as he listened to her speak about buying him out of the tournament. A price to throw away his honor as a member of the Ixian Knights had never even entered his mind. To think that an opponent would be so desperate to win a round in a tournament that they would be willing to pay another combatant to leave the battle in disgrace, it actually made him want to laugh.
He didn’t respond for a moment, letting the woman stew in her own words as he considered the best possible way to rebuff her. He held his arm, cradling the injury, the smirk still present on his face.
“I’m afraid that’s impossible,” he finally responded, breaking the silence. His eyes narrowed slightly at the woman, a glare that spoke volumes of his feelings on the matter. To make things even clearer, he began speaking once more. “I’m not prepared to throw away the honor of the Ixian Knights for any price that can be paid by any entity. The Knights are my family, and my honor dictates that I win for them. I’m not in this for myself, but to bring honor to those who I have lived with, fought with, and worked beside for the last few years.” He allowed his response to sink in for a moment before the air around him began to mist again.
“I cannot let down my Uncle, my father, or the Knights I was chosen over to receive this invitation. I refuse,” he said simply. “If you want to win that badly, continue this fight and win through your skill, as all the other combatants are attempting to do. I will not back down from you, but do not insult my loyalty to the organization that I have worked with by thinking that I’m in this for something so petty as gold or lavish gifts of any sort.”
With that little tirade out of his system, he stepped forward slowly toward the woman with a light in his eyes.
“But, let me ask you, what exactly are you fighting for? Is it for your honor, to hone your skills, to prove yourself to someone or to yourself, or is the prize really all you care about? I’m in this to bring prestige to the Ixian Knights Organization, and to improve myself as a warrior so that I can better help the people of this world against those who would use and abuse them. No price is too high for that.”
I’m willing to stake my very existence, my soul on the Knights. Can you same the same for your own goals?
The unspoken question hung in the air between the two people as Rehtul patiently awaited the woman’s response.
For once, the indifferent look left Maribel's face. She was confused and furious at the same time. She had just offered this man money, and he had refused. Refused, as if money meant nothing to him. 'Then again, he is an Orlouge,' She thought with a sigh as she clipped the pencil back onto the board. "he is probably is rolling in the stuff.'
Maribel then walked slowly towards him as she said, "You know, I find it interesting, the belief in honor. No one actually knows what honor is. Some people believe you get honor in a fair battle, others believe that waiting till you get married to do the deed is honorable, and some believe that helping others is honorable. All these and more dictates honor in one place or another. Yet no one can agree on what makes true honor. So no, I don't fight for honor."
Maribel continued on her trek towards the Orlouge as she said,"To hone my skills… a little, I still need to work on my fighting style as you can plainly see." She looked down to her hand to indicate what she meant. "However, honing my skills is a side effect for what I am doing, it is not the reason that I joined this tournament."
"To prove myself to someone?" she laughed with a bark, "No, I have no one to prove myself too, especially not myself, I already know that I am not a very capable fighter. However, you did prove to me that I need to find something for a ranged fighter such as yourself, Mr. Orlouge."
"The prize is good Mr. Orlouge, I'll tell you that," Maribel said with a sparkle in her eyes. "But it isn't worth getting hurt over. No non of what you said is the reason for my participation.
She paused there as she tried to catch her breath from the rant she was sent on. "No," She finally said with an edge to her voice, and edge that not many had ever heard from her. "The reason for my fight is because The Great Stained Glass told me to fight. To do whatever it takes to win. To make it to the end of the tournament and win that prize. I don't do it for the money, training, honor, or to prove myself. No I fight because the Great Stained Glass has told me to do it. And if I fail him, I can expect punishment from the heavens upon my return. Something I am not willing to accept!" With that she threw her right fist back and went to punch him in the gut as her left swung the clipboard at his head. She would not loose here. She would not get punished because the man before her would not back down. She would win this fight and would rather die than to return empty handed.
Rehtul listened politely to the woman’s responses, and then frowned. She was participating in this tournament out of some kind of fear of divine retribution? That made no sense. What gods on Althanas even cared if one of their favored won in some silly tournament hosted by mortals, for mortals? Unless that god desired something like gold, there was definitely nothing that made sense, and there were hundreds, thousands of ways, to build a base of cash without having to put a loyal servant in harm’s way like that.
Of course, the woman immediately got back into the fight, but Rehtul held up his left arm and shook his head, a globe of glass-like magic surrounding him as her fist and clipboard both swung toward him, one toward his gut, the other toward his head. Normally, the Mystic Protection would be easily able to deflect either blow, but both of them coming in tandem shook the magic to the core, causing cracks to appear along its fragile surface. The young ice mage smiled at the woman, she who feared something known only as “the stained glass.”
As the cracks continued to form across his magical shield, looking more and more like a large spider web, he looked at her with eyes full of pity, the first non-combative emotion he had felt for the woman since their initial meeting.
“You think no one truly knows what honor is? It’s actually quite simple,” he said as a few shards dropped off of his protection and disintegrated into the air around him. “Honor is what you make of it, it is keeping your word, but more than anything else...”
Another set of chips fell off of his shield and disappeared into the air around him, the tinkling of breaking glass echoing through the field of battle as the air itself seemed to stand still.
“Honor is that emotion, that indefinable quality about one’s self that makes them feel worthy of the love and respect of others. It is...” The glass finally shattered and broke into every possible direction before spinning above the young Orlouge with gusto as he finally finished his protected speech.
“...that quality of yourself that defines your self-worth!”
He stretched his hand out and the shards gathered between him and the woman who had just made the mistake of attacking a Mystic who had yet to release his Mystic Protection for even the first time. The shards flew at her. The sharp glass-like shards were generally non-fatal, but it would be painful. He jumped back, landing on both feet and his one good hand, wincing in pain from the whiplash of his other arm.
“I understand that. Honor is different for all sorts of people, Maribel. One’s self worth is purely subjective, based on that person’s ideals. It is different for each person because each person prizes and desires different things for themselves.” The last sentence came out barely as a whisper, but he was certain the woman would be able to hear him.
“That is honor,” he said simply.
Maribel's face turned to one of horror as she saw the cracks. 'No!" she thought as she brought her arms up to cover her face. The glass shards rammed into her and cut her hands, hair, and parts of her face. she flew backwards from the force and landed on her back. After a few seconds she looked at the shards in her hands and screamed.
"No! What have I done!" She yelled out. "The Great Stained Glass will not be pleased, I destroyed one of his children. I must repent, I must beg forgiveness, I must build ten of his children to replace the one I destroyed. I must get started! But if I leave I automatically fail and retribution will still come. What am I to do, what am I to do?" She then looked at the Orlouge. "You, you made me break the child of the Great Stained Glass! I shall beat you and then I shall begin to build ten new children of the Great Stained Glass! Hopefully then the Great Stained Glass can forgive me!" She then charged at the Orlouge with a righteous furry. She would pummel him till he was black and blue and couldn't tell the earth from the sky. She would win this tournament and then get back into the good graces of the Great Stained Glass. 'This I swear!'
Of course, he should have seen it coming. The woman was obsessed with some kind of stained glass god. Why wouldn’t she hold everything that appeared to be made of glass sacred? He sighed as the woman approached him, her eyes ablaze with fury. He motioned with a single hand and all of the remaining shards of his protection disappeared into the air. It had only been a few minutes since the two of them had started fighting, but he was beginning to quickly tire of this little back and forth.
As the woman continued to approach him, he turned away from her, tossing his cape back over his shoulders and started to run in the other direction.
“This is going nowhere in a hurry, but if you insist on letting your blind rage get the better of you...” he said, as he ran away from her. Behind him, the entire wooden walkway began to ice over, the ice spreading and smoothing out as slick as glass. If she looked down, she would be able to see the reflection of his retreating figure as he continued to sprint. He then stopped short and turned around, his eyes cold and focused, a man who had finally had enough.
“You are driven by fear,” he said, his voice dripping venom. He reached his left hand out over the frozen wood beneath the two. “You want to stay in the good graces of this Great Stained Glass or whatever you call it, even calling a spell that mimics glass the child of this deity. It’s laughable, and a little bit sad.”
He slammed his fingers shut into a fist and frowned as the ice on the walkway gathered in on itself and erupted out as spikes in random directions, an effort to prevent the woman from being able to effectively intuit and evade their blows. Rehtul had set the trap and sprung it, now was the time to see if the woman had even the slightest ability to still remain logical.
“If you cannot control yourself, you will never win this fight,” he said simply. He did a quick inner inventory and determined that he had enough power remaining to end this.
I have more control now than I ever did. I’m glad I don’t have the same limits on my power as I did a couple of years ago. I wouldn’t be able to hold out much longer if I did. This training really did pay off.
Maribel ran forward as quickly as she could. However, she didn't notice the spikes until it was too late. She ran right into them and got herself impaled. Her blood dripped down the icy spikes and pooled on the floor where they froze. Her body began to freeze as she slid down the spikes before she finally laid flat on the floor. Rage still laced through her face as she gave her last breath. She was dead, frozen in place by the extremely cold spikes that took her life. She failed.
Quote:
Bank Ownership Activated - 5% increase to the normal amount of money this thread
Rehtul watched as the woman ran heedlessly into the trap he set with a scowl. He watched as she skewered herself on several of the tall spikes that had erupted from the ground and stood there for a moment, looking at the woman’s body with naked disgust. With a wave of his hand, the ice holding her up above the walkway melted.
“I can’t believe you’d let something like blind fear defeat you in such a way. I left behind plenty of clues that I was planning something, yet you,” he said, before sighing and turning on his heel. He walked toward the magical door now floating above the walkway behind him. He then turned around toward the woman once more, now on the ground in a pool of water and blood.
“You ignored the trap and ran heedlessly toward your own death,” he said, before stopping. He fished his comb out of his robes once more and fixed his hair, which had fallen around his face in disarray. He would want to look his best once he left this arena, after all.
Something had happened to him during the course of that fight. He’d never been one to react so violently to most situations, but something about this woman, this woman who had completely snapped when she attacked his Mystic Protection, brought out an irritation and anger that he had not known existed.
“I wonder what that was,” he muttered to himself as he beheld the dead form before him. He had only reacted that way after hearing her rant about the Great Stained Glass, but something didn’t sit right with him. He’d never been one to allow his emotions to best him. How could something so unimportant, at least in his eyes, possibly cause such a violent reaction?
“Maybe it’s my dislike of fear that caused it,” he said, shrugging.
A rough chuckle escaped his lips before he touched the magical door and disappeared into the ether. Some mysteries would just have to wait for another day. Right now, he had more important things to worry about, like getting his arm seen about. There may have been something fishy going on, but the added pain of his arm wouldn’t do anything to help the situation as he thought about possible answers.
Thread is Closed to be judged shortly.
Alright, sorry for the delay. This will be my first judgment for the Serenti, so please feel free to PM me with questions or further insight into my judgment, or thoughts on your thread. If you feel a specific area of your writing needs improvement and you have questions specific to that area, don't hesitate to ask for me to go over it with you.
To business.
Rehtul Orlogue-
Story: 6- It was simple to understand why Rehtul was in the Serenti, his qualms with different issues (from something as small as killing flowers to more glaring issues, like ending his opponent's life), all the way down to how he approached each action. It moved well from post to post- which I'll touch on with the Pacing- ultimately, Rehtul's half of this thread leaves the reader with several unanswered questions. This is not necessarily bad, of course.
Setting: 5- You certainly did refer back to the setting, and told the reader about different things Rehtul saw and felt, how he experienced them- but it certainly did not make or break the writing. Use your surroundings, and let them use you. The world is just as much a part of your writing as your character.
Pacing: 5- Things transitioned moderately well between posts, and you can see building growth in Rethul as you write through the thread. You may find that, in future threads, building a strong story with your opponent and working off what they give you will enhance your story. That isn't always the case, of course.
Action: 5- Your attacks, the way you melt the ice, and how you speak about the various aspects of gore evoke the senses, but your language sometimes downplays the more "fantastic" pieces of writing. For instance, as he walked along the platform toward the exit- if your floor is Ethereal, feel free to tell a reader how their footsteps displace it, or how the light beneath his feet seemed to "shudder." The trick with this is to assure you don't make it super flowery, but still illicit the imagery that denotes it as surreal. Try new things, and enjoy it!
Communication: 7- Rehtul's back and forth with Maribel reveals different things about his character, in a way that fully grasps the proper use of communication to convey personality. This may be the strongest area for you, though there is room for improvement. Nonverbal cues are just as important, as well as things that he chooses to leave unsaid. Sometimes the most powerful idea a character can convey is the one they show with actions, not words. If instead of cursing Maribel's dead body, he had sneered, or even spat at it, the feeling of enmity would have grown exponentially.
Persona: 6- Toward the end, the reader could practically feel Rehtul's rage- though it raised some questions as to where the rage came from. While it is exemplary to show the character is affected, and how, continuity begs that you keep the reader in the know. And not, "because of x, this," show us the build up. Show the reader why your rage builds. Make us hate the object of your ire, too. We want to feel what you feel.
Mechanics: 5- "Something had happened to him during the course of that fight. He’d never been one to react so violently to most situations, but something about this woman, this woman who had completely snapped when she attacked his Mystic Protection, brought out an irritation and anger that he had not known existed." This is two sentences. The latter is a run on. Be sure to split up sentences to avoid this. If you have more than two or three (at the very most) clauses, it probably needs to be broken down.
Clarity: 5- The way the thread progressed, your characters motivations and actions were clean and concise. What drove this score down was the end for this reader. Why would an otherwise cool and collected ice mage feel such seething rage? What about the woman drove him to those levels of anger? The lack of true explanation made the transition weaker, but not enough to affect the pacing.
Technique: 6- Fairly solid, your use of description strengthens your prose and the imagery makes it generally easy to follow what is going on. As stated previously, you could stand to use slightly better descriptors in places, but overall, you have a firm grasp of literary illustration. You might benefit from mingling in some short, punctuating sentences to offset the longer, more daunting ones.
You said that she ran heedlessly in your dialogue, as well as in your narrative. It doesn't drive the point home to have the character point out what you made obvious. As stated above, you didn't have to say anything. She died, and you live on. The most powerful statement of all, in war and in life, is that those who live on tell the story. Those who fall are forgotten. Repetition can be used to great effect, if you use it properly. Be wary of it, however.
Wildcard: 3- Ultimately, I felt the reason for Rehtul being there was a bit weak (if he thought his any of the other Ixians would have been better suited, why not give up the invitation to one of them?) but you made up for it with deep, complex characterization and thoughtful posts that enticed more than just a battle. For me, a character who asks questions is far more compelling than one who simply acts. Therefore, I'm giving slightly more wildcard points to you, here.
Bank of Hoytii-
Story: 4- This reader had a difficult time following what went down between posts. Some of your writing went slow, then quickly jerked to another, unexplained action or bit of reasoning. You want to move seamlessly between ideas, and build between one idea and the next. If you enter in your first post, and your opponent enters after you- take notice of that, see what's going on around you. Comment on it, or show that your character notices, even if they don't actively show it. Every interaction is a chance to build your character, as well as the story. Don't miss out on the little things- there are writers who use the smallest bits of information to shatter a reader's world. And you hate those people at first, but eventually you realize, they're the sneakiest, most innovative writers of all.
Setting: 2- Really, Maribel enters, then fights and ultimately dies. The fact that she does so in a place is a backdrop to the actual happenings. It felt like she had almost no interest in the area, and by extension, you neglected it as a writer. Don't! As I said to Rehtul, the setting is just as valuable to the writer as their character. After all, without a world, where are yoh writing?
Pacing: 3 Jarring back and forth between ideas, the reader feels at a loss at times. You go from fighting, to not wanting to fight, so far as to attempt bribing Rehtul to throw the match. The idiosyncratic nature of the writing made it difficult to follow and almost rendered the character nonsensical. My advice is to settle on her personality once and for all, and be certain to adhere to whatever you decide. If she's a fighter, fight- if she's more subtle, go with bribery, but don't have her go headlong into a battle like Serenti, where it makes no logical sense for her to participate- and expect her to fight on par with the combat monkeys. Stick with what your character does best, and you'll find that it helps you do much better.
Action: 4- Where Maribel grabs the blade and thinks, "man, that's cold!" You could have done more without the thought, and perhaps just shown how her hand shivered, or she quickly let go, or any sort of nonverbal response. This would have been much stronger from a reader's perspective. Action is the fine use of words to convey your ideas. Keep that in mind. Go with the concept that using a character's thought process should be your last line of defense, when all else fails and your narrative cannot feasibly convey what you're trying to present.
Communication: 4- This was a clear weakness. Sometimes, the things people in general say don't make sense (a trait particularly common of religious zealots, as I believe is the case here.) That doesn't mean it's good to fall back on. You can portray a character as such to evoke a cryptic tone, but you don't want to have the character a reader is following continually make no sense. It breaks the reader away and makes them want to move on from that character. If you're going to bring your god/goddess/spirit up in casual conversation, you've got to present a clear reason why they are so endeared to you, and you absolutely need the reader to relate. Every aspect of writing somehow entwines with the others.
Persona: 4- The reader can see toward the end why Maribel is competing, though it could do with further explanation. Her rage is founded in something, at least. Mostly, her bribe came a bit late and heavy handed, and would have made more sense if she started with it, then begrudgingly fought- or even conceded defeat. Maribel strikes the reader as the sort who would deceive an opponent in order to wait for an opening to exploit. Any number of possibilities would have given deeper insight into her as a character. Be sure not to neglect that aspect of your writing.
Mechanics: 5 Mostly, repetitive structure and weak prose (for instance, the last sentence- "she failed." If you had made that a paragraph alone, it would have been haunting. It would have had a much larger impact.) bogged down what stood to be a very interesting character concept. Check out some new sentence structures and find new ways to convey ideas; let me see if I can work some magic for you.
Maribel ran forward as quickly as she could. However, she didn't notice the spikes until it was too late. She ran right into them and got herself impaled. Her blood dripped down the icy spikes and pooled on the floor where they froze. Her body began to freeze as she slid down the spikes before she finally laid flat on the floor. Rage still laced through her face as she gave her last breath. She was dead, frozen in place by the extremely cold spikes that took her life. She failed.
Becomes
Maribel hurried forward, but by the time she noticed the spikes, it was too late. A panicked scream tore from her lips as they ripped far too easily through her fragile form. Steam and crimson sloughed from the freshly opened wounds as her impaled body quickly paled, the heat ebbing away from her body, though her eyes still stared wide into the distance. Death accepted her before she had time to return the kindness.
She had failed.
Or something like that.
Clarity: 2- There were pieces of this thread that made absolutely no sense. When you brought up the Great Stained Glass, the reader had this gigantic question mark drawn comedically over their head. If you use an idea in your writing, explain it. Or at least, explain how it relates to what you're talking about. Without context, things get lost in translation.
Technique: 4- Your writing still has a ways to go, but it shows that you're picking up new ideas. Keep testing things until you find an expanded comfort zone. A reader can still see shades of repetition in your sentence structures and it waters down the intended message at times. If you intend to drive a point home, use a full paragraph, but don't say the same thing twice. Target the reader's emotions, and drive a sword into their heart- proverbially, of course.
Wildcard: 2- Alright. To be a bit blunt, I'm confused about several things. What in God's name is the Great Stained Glass, and what has it got to do with the thread other than being an impetus for her going on with the tournament? I felt like she acted in a total void, in terms of purpose, and had no real pressing reason for competing. The character concept is interesting, but the lack of substance is equally and oppositionally jarring. In terms of character, you need to work on giving the reader just enough so that they're not lost, but still asking questions and enticed to learn more. Find the balance between what they need to know, and what they do not.
Final Score: 53 to 34
Rehtul Orlogue moves on to Round 2! Congratulations!
Bank of Hoytii is eliminated. Better luck next time!
Rehtul Orlogue gains 1,000 EXP and 150 GP
Bank of Hoytii gains 200 EXP and 55 GP. (Factoring GP gain from ability.)