MQ: When Blood Runs Cold

[Witchblade]

She made no move to help the two humans as they rescued those from within the home; she had done all she’d been asked to. Chris had merely wished for her assistance in finding a way into the home, he had never asked for her to rush into the flaming and collapsing piece of lumber and carry a few screaming children out of it. Which was good, because she may have refused. Not only did she have little to no interest in saving their lives, but she could not withstand the hands of the children and mother all over her, touching her bare skin. It would be her downfall and the events that would follow such a thing would probably leave none within this snowy valley alive. There was a reason she rarely spent time in the company of others, even though somehow the Halfling constantly found herself thrown into strange adventures she would rather not participate in.

As both Molotov and Christoph stumbled from the smoke ridden house, she did nothing but place The Rot Slayer once more upon her back. They dropped their precious little bundles and one by one they rushed over to the farmer, injured more by Christoph than any action she had taken upon him.

Words broke the silence, the apologetic kind but she knew they weren’t aimed at her. Whether or was Molotov or the ground of traumatized humans huddling close together and watching the remained of their house crumble and burn she didn’t know, nor did she really care. Chris’s behaviour was beginning to fluctuate too much and it was worrying her slightly. When she had first met him, he seemed like another hood Samaritan, the kind that went out of his way and even put himself into harm’s way just to help another person. Then it had shifted into something cold, something that felt little towards that of other people and had been willing to show that to those around him. But now even as he sat within the snow it becoming something new once more, as if he was trying to find a balance between the light and this growing darkness within him.

Drawing in a large quantity of the cool and smoke filled air, the Halfling grabbed her cloak from the snow and quickly wrapped it around her body, shielding it from the wind, even though the heat of the flame was keeping her warm enough. Then she picked up her rucksack and placed it upon her back once more upon her back, wondering if the bundle within was angry at her for having dropped him so roughly. The wounds she had already gained from the sharpened shards of burning wood were healing if not completely healed. They left nothing but a trace of her dark, blue blood upon her flawless, pale skin.

“The caravan headed South...”

Walking over to the human, she extended her hand to help him up from the snow.

[Molotov]

Molotov had wanted to be done with Chris. Before the house had caught on fire, the mutant had figured, one way or another, they would be done by the end of their fight. Chris would have beaten him beyond the point where he could have continued, or Molotov would have killed Chris. Either way, the battle would have been over. Now, he knew he would have to continue. Molotov could tell that Chris was going to continue after Malachi, but that there was still something redeemable about the man.

Cursing his lot, Molotov wondered why he had to discover the hardest ways in the world to seek redemption. Saving an entire village of Coronians from a succubus had been a less stressful ordeal, and that had been when the mutant had lost his most prized trenchcoat. Now, he was lying out in the snow, his pants somewhat singed by the flames, no better off than when he had initially started.

For a moment, he considered offering to heal Chris or Witchblade. While he hadn't really looked, he was sure they would have sustained a few knicks and bruises in the least. However, even if Molotov’s heart was big enough to help them, it couldn’t override his common sense. “Sooner or later, I’m going to have to kill that minger…” the mutant realized. “The bloody more beaten and tired she is when it happens, the bloody the better it is for me.” Soon, he realized the point was vacuous. Witchblade naturally had healing at his level. The mutant decided to remember that, just in case it ended up necessary later.

With a sigh, he knew that, for better or worse, this adventure was going to continue, and in the end, someone was going to die. Molotov knew now that Witchblade had powers that allowed her to read minds, and that somehow, he was going to have to find a way to counter that, both in her ability to read his senses, and in any abilities she had to change the senses of Chris. Secretly, Molotov feared that it was chicanery by the sewn lipped monster that was driving Chris to the point of insanity, because it had become apparent that Chris’ slip into madness was something that wasn’t wholly natural.

Regardless, Molotov would persevere. He had persevered through everything he’d been through before, be it alienation at a boarding school, leading a group of misnanthropic mutants through the Gisela tournament or saving children from a fate they didn’t deserve. The mutant’s life had begun to resemble that of a cockroach, though he seemed to accrue more and more resentment regardless of what he did, he managed to become harder and harder to kill.

“The bloody minger thinks she knows what she’s doing here,” Molotov figured. “She’s got it all planned out, the whole scenario, but bloody hell, if she thinks it’s going to be easy to run through Salvar killing people, she’s got another thing coming.”

With that, Molotov fumbled in his pockets for his cigarettes. After a bit of fumbling around and slight consternation they had been lost to the flames, he put one in his mouth and lit it. As he breathed out the blue grey smoke and watched it dissipate over the crisp, snowy Salvarian landscape he wished it farewell, hoping that, at the end of the adventure, he would be far away from both Chris and the woman.

“So,” he said, speaking as if absolutely nothing had happened, eager to turn the page to the next chapter. “Where to?”

[Christoph]

Molotov’s words served well to clear the chef’s mind and bring everything back into focus, reminding him of his purpose. Malachi was out there; he was close. If they could catch him, the whole ordeal would not have been for nothing. He glanced back and forth between his two companions, almost as surprised that neither of them had left yet as he was that they hadn’t killed each other.

He looked at Witchblade's outstretched hand. On one hand, he was a tad paranoid. On the other, such a gesture was so unlike her that it must have had some kind of significance that he couldn’t grasp Even so, he stood up on his own, brushing himself off and making eye contact with the woman long enough to whisper, “save that for when I really need it.” His tone was somber.

“Witchblade… extracted the information from the farmer,” he replied. “Malachi and his caravan continued down this road. They didn’t take the road west. That means we stick to this road as well and hopefully catch up with them. I figure that we can move faster than a caravan that size, unless they all had horses.” He hoped that it would be that easy. For whatever reason, the agents of the Sway weren’t heading for Knife’s Edge after all.

Gladly turning his back on the ruined farm, Chris returned to the road in silence. He didn’t even motion for the others to follow. He wasn’t surprised to hear their footsteps and the trot of the tiny dragon behind him. They had their own motives for accompanying him. He was suspicious of both of them, obviously, but he was in no position to argue with their formidable aid.

Without a word they continued their trek down the cursed road to their likely demise. Trudging through the snow, they chased their prey – a prey on the verge of escaping beyond any reasonable means of pursuit. They were fleeing to a land that Chris had never been to before. Malachi and his band were headed south, and thus the three of them would take the southern road as well. They would go to Alerar.

Spoils request summary:

Christoph: the activation of the second rune on his sword. It provides the magical ability to protect its wielder from adverse environmental effects. (Keeping him warm in bitter cold and cool in blistering heat, etc…)

Molotov: the sammich. It's stale, has a bite taken out of it, and has been squashed repeatedly, but it came from the Golden Grass Inn, so damn if it doesn't still taste good.

[Skie and Avery]

Quest Judging
When Blood Runs Cold

STORY

Continuity ~ 6/10. Pacing brought this down. By the time I’d read everything, I’d forgotten why some of the characters were even there to begin with.
Setting ~ 7/10. Nothing spectacular. I liked references about how Molotov steamed when he’d come out of the burning building back into the cold.
Pacing ~ 4/10. This was pretty awful. The quest was interesting, but it got bogged down a lot. For one, you guys had a lot of posts, especially on Elijah’s part, where the majority of the content was just going back and retelling what had been written in previous posts. Yeah, it shows your characters view of it, but here it hurt more than help. Christoph and Witchy had a time with this too, and overall this is why the quest suffered. Also, it seemed like the more the quest went on, the more Witchblade was just saying the same things. More on that in Persona.

CHARACTER

Dialogue ~ 7/10.
Action ~ 5/10. Again, suffered with pacing, and some of Christoph’s actions really didn’t make any sense to me, like when he started beating the crap out of that poor farmer.
Persona ~ 4/10. I can understand that Christoph was angry and desperate, and how something like the death of his mother would change a person, and that the sword and Witchblade’s goading would stoke the fires, so to speak. However, it was too extreme to be believable. It was like, okay, first he comes across as a normal guy who’s a bit down because of all the bad luck. Then comes righteous anger, which is a heroic trait. Suddenly he’s torturing a farmer. O…kay. Even if the righteous anger is the start of a villain…seriously. Let’s… just… and then he’s yelling at Witchblade for doing what he just tried to do? I can understand the confusion of your team members, and if the extremity of this was on purpose, it wasn’t explained well enough to do anything for this thread but hurt it. As far as Witchblade herself is concerned, your character was very flat here. You gave some sign of an inner struggle in regards to how she felt about Christoph and the way he saved her life, but for the most part you completely ruined that as the thread went on. Your character showed nothing that I could relate to as a reader. Even if you wanted me to hate your character, I need to relate. I need to get close enough to see her as something I could loathe, and maybe loathe her more because I see something I can identify with there. Your character wasn’t tangible at all in this quest. She was background noise. Also, I couldn’t tell if cold affected her or not. Sometimes you said that it had no effect, went on about how she was already freezing, etc, and then a few posts later, she’d be shivering over something. If she’s meant to have a resistance, but not immunity, to cold, it should have been made more clear.

WRITING STYLE

Technique ~ 5/10. Limited use of techniques. The writing wasn’t bad, but it just didn’t draw me in at all. There was very little flow. Straightforwardness is great for clarity, but sandwiches are so much better when you’ve got some cheese and mayo to go with the meat. Sometimes mustard.
Mechanics ~ 7/10. A lot of mistakes here with spelling. One of the humorous ones was in one of Witchblade’s posts - I believe the last one. She wrote that she’d at first thought Christoph was some sort of “hood Samaritan.” I don’t know how loudly I laughed at that one. I couldn’t help but imagine Chris with his afro and chef’s hat, coming up to some junkie on a corner, saying, “Yo nigga, want some hizzelp? Ya’ll know how I do.”
Clarity ~ 8/10.

MISCELLANEOUS

Wild Card ~ 5/10. That Sandwich needs to go on the list of famous Althanas artifacts.

TOTAL ~ 58/100. <commentary here>

Rewards

Christoph gains 4370 EXP and 812 GP and requested spoils
Molotov gains 6054 EXP and 754 GP and requested spoils
Witchblade gains 4666 EXP and 640 GP
Elijah Morendale gains 1938 EXP and 290 GP

[Witchblade]

EXP and GP added!

Christoph reaches level 5!
Witchblade reaches level 7!
Emo-boy reaches level 3!
Molotov reaches nothing... because he sucks.