Byzantine

[Inkfinger]

Cael was hesitant to even go out of the church after their last close call. If they people they were trying to protect and help were going to turn on them...

He was starting to think more of Gjovik and home nowadays, but Ludvik had outright forbid him to go home; there was another group handling it. The papers with requests were starting to build up in a pile on the floor next to the portal, so he finally, after five days, worked up the courage to touch the wall again.

The first few missions they had had that had been successes had included all four of them, so now, at what Cael rather suspected would be their last such mission, all four were going again. Lovstok had been the latest letter, two nights ago...

So Lovstok it was.

Maybe he'd get lucky and whichever one of them was the traitor would stab him in the back. It was that thought that made him retrieve his dusty naginata from the floor of the balcony and strap it on beneath his pack.

Kamen seemed to sense what was going on then.

"We're quitting then, sir?" He asked in a small voice when Cael stepped into the portal room. Cael nodded, rubbing his eyes, feeling his face burn where his gray fingers touched.

"Yeah," he said, in an equally small voice as Damyan and F'bael both came into the room. They each carried their gear, and they were both pointedly ignoring one another. "It's not...we've got to quit before we..." He looked at both of them with the same expression: mingled fear and defiance. "We're causing more harm than good."

F'bael met his eyes with a solemn nod. Damyan just looked at the floor. Cael felt a brief pang of worry, but tried to shrug it off with a smile. "Once this is done...you just say the village, I'll open it. You can go home, or you can stay together, but me...I'm not coming back."

It felt better to say the words out-loud. Cael squared his shoulders, and brushed his fingertips across the portal. It sputtered and hissed to life - and Cael climbed through.

There were four other groups standing in the tiny chapel's stained glass portal room -Fennick's, and three that Cael didn't recognize - when they climbed out. Cael drew to a sudden stop, blinking in bewilderment, his brief brush with confidence gone at this unexpected greeting.

"Um. Hello?"

"What do you mean, 'hello'?" Fennick countered, holding up a handful of papers that looked an awful lot like the papers Kamen had brought him - the ones he had folded and shoved in the very bottom of his pack. Cael licked his lips, moving to help Damyan with the cart, listening to Fennick speaking. "Didn't you...call..." He saw Cael's look, and trailed off. "...no?"

"I...would suggest moving fast and keeping an eye out," was all Cael trusted himself to say. "Everywhere."

The suggestion didn't seem to entirely mollify the others, but they fell in line behind him nonetheless. He led them out, reluctantly, already working through stories for why they were here, why they had so many people...how many people they had, exactly.

The mental fabrications seemed to be going pretty well as they made their raggedy way down the narrow streets. He steeled himself when they turned the corner onto the street with the drop-off point and he saw the line of soldiers still several blocks away.

"Alright," he took one more step forward. "Let me do the talking, and we'll be..." He heard an odd, thunderously loud explosion and felt a shower of marble splinters burst off the wall next to him. "...okay." There was a second explosion and several shouts, and when Cael turned it was to see F'bael collapse to his knees, blood pouring freely from a wound in his temple. A third, and Fennick was beside him, half of his face gone.

Cael took a step back.

"Oh hellgates, they’ve got guns." And they don't want us alive, "Fall back, fall back, get going!”

Cael’s desperate shrieked orders seemed to knock some sense into the resistance members left. Cael rubbed his temple as he moved, wishing that he was something – anything! – more effective than an ink mage. He limped around the corner, heading for the church as fast as he could manage without drawing further unwanted attention.

This section of the city was sheer chaos, madness maddened and let loose. Cael rounded a corner, his feet skidding out from under him. He caught himself on the wrong hand, almost crumpling into a ball at the needles and knives of pain that shot through his palm and up to his elbow. His wordless howl was drowned in Damyan's roar and the sharp crack of a gun.

"Cael!"

Cael braced himself against the wall, expecting to feel the sharp, biting impact of the bullet. What he felt, instead, was like being run into by an oxcart. He hit the ground for the second time in a minute, feeling hot blood trickling over his back, and the pressure of a body crushing down on him.

He sat up, desperately shoving the weight off and struggling to flip Damyan over onto his back. The big man had a gaping hole in his back, something far beyond anything Cael could even begin to think about. The wyrmfolf reached out a hand, fingers dripping with vividly blue blood. Cael reached out to grab it, trying to ignore the gaping exit wound in the man’s chest, but Damyan knocked his hand away, reaching over Cael’s fingers to press down on the talisman.

There came a horrible burning pain that seemed to sear through his skin and bones, and the talisman disintegrated the same way Ulric’s summoning stones had. The powder, this time, seemed to sink into his flesh, blackening it in its wake. He bit back a shriek of startled pain –

And, just like that, the pain had vanished, leaving only the streaks on his skin to indicate that the talisman had ever been there. The talisman itself was gone.

So was Damyan. The big man had a smile on his face, as if he was laughing at some private joke, but the shine in his eyes was already going dull...and the sniper had had time to reload. The wall next to Cael's head exploded, showering him with wood chips this time. Cael let go of Damyan's arm and made like a hunted jackrabbit, all the way back to Kamen and the other resistance members who had made it to the portal.

It was a pitifully small number.

Kamen's eyes went to his hand with a look of open concern. Cael managed a small, pained smile, reaching out to touch the portal. It flared up just as it always had before, and there wasn't a single squirming feeling.

He didn't miss it as they bolted through.

[Inkfinger]

F'bael lay on the cold cobblestones, listening to the ill-prepared resistance scatter at Cael's half-hearted orders. It was hard not to laugh at just how obvious it came across that the scribe wasn't good at orders - and hard not to crawl away when the one resistance leader - Cael had called him something like Fennick?- slammed into the ground next to him, splattering him with blood and bone.

But he managed, not moving a muscle until the shouts and gunshot echoes had faded off into the distance.

Then he stood, smearing the handful of red paint off on his shirt with a shake of his head. Humans are so dense sometimes.

He took care to walk slowly, avoiding the major thoroughfares as his hand went to the communication pendant he'd been using for the last month to contact the Church agents.

"Magistrate Yvan," he called, as the pendant warmed to his touch. Cael, if he acted according to form, would run home to his big brother... "Portal Keeper Antanas."

F'bael waited until the voice spoke in his ear, far away and hollow. "Foxlight? Is that you?" Oh good, he thought with a grin when Antanas's voice came through instead of the Magistrate's. He's easier to confuse.

"I have some news for you."

[Inkfinger]

“It’s not working.”

“Oh?”

Cael stood at Ludvik's window the next day, feeling the now-familiar traces creeping up and down his back. Was it the portals doing that, or his paranoia this time? The creeping, crawling sensations that had faded with Damyan's death had returned early this morning, but now they seemed to be assailing his whole body.

He shivered, trying to shake the feeling off, and turned away from the window. He didn't want to see a besieged city. He'd seen enough of both sides' soldiers to last him a lifetime.

“Don’t ‘oh’ me, ‘vik, you know it’s not working. What are we really accomplishing?”

“There are a couple villages north that are still standing ‘cuz you managed to get them food, give it ti-”

"Someone tried to sell us yesterday." Cael interrupted, and Ludvik stopped.

“They what?”

“We got there, there were soldiers. And the mayor.” Cael’s voice was strangely icy, it chilled even him. “And F’bael, Damyan? They're dead.” He brushed the cuts on his face from the marble splinters - he hadn't even noticed them yesterday. "Three inches over, and I wouldn’t be here." Damyan died to save me. "It’s not working, alright? We have to call it off."

"It’s too late, innit? We're started, we're established, we're-"

"Plague rats." Cael said, viscously, though he left off pointing out the obvious, that Ludvik hadn't even been there. "At least one, maybe two of my guys were traitors. There’s at least six different groups out there now," It had been seven until yesterday and Fennick... "And all of ‘em are having more success than we are, alright? We’re just not cut out for this. I'm not cut out for this. I feel like I'm going mad."

Who knows, maybe I am.

Ludvik stood by the window, playing with the home-sewn curtains with shaking fingers. Cael heaved a sigh, carding both hands through his hair until it stuck out like a dandelion's fluff. "Look. You're fine, 'less they catch me here. They don't know you were involved. I'll just...get out of Salvar again. I don't think I should have come home."

Ludvik looked as if he was about to respond to that - but his forehead creased with a thoughtful frown.

"Wait. You said F'bael...died?"

Cael heaved a frustrated sigh, gesticulating madly. "Yes. Yes I said that. Shot, right here." He tapped his fingers against his temple, eyes flaring. "Blood and brain and..." He lost steam rather quickly at the memory, finishing lamely. "...yes. Dead."

"But...I saw him. Downstairs. This morning."

Now it was Cael's turn to freeze, feeling his blood turn to ice.

Damn it. Damn it. He was seven kinds of idiot, he was a plague rat, he was going to get everyone he knew killed. He lunged and caught Ludvik's sleeve, dragging him towards the door.

"We gotta go. Now!"

Ludvik didn't react fast enough, trying to tug free to grab his coat. Cael bit back a whine, latched onto his arm, and dragged his heavier brother with all his might. "No time, just come on!"

Either he pulled hard enough or his sudden mixture of adrenaline and terror was contagious, because Ludvik finally allowed him to drag him out the door. The two men pelted down the stairs, Cael shrugging off his pack as he went, digging through the piles of junk he'd accumulated, looking for a very specific pile of papers.

They were halfway down the last flight of stairs to the portal room when he found it with a crow of triumph. Finally something had gone right! Ludvik started slowing down. Cael wound up missing a step and plowing into his back, but that was alright.

He set the papers down on the stairs, three per stair for five rows of stairs, with the circles he'd drawn last night face up. No one would jump that many stairs in here, they'd hit a wall before they hit the last one. That should slow them down just a bit when they did follow. He shoved Ludvik's shoulder, not letting the older man catch his breath. "I said keep going!"

The finally reached the portal room, both breathing in sawing, rasping breaths. Ludvik stared at the portal, the only way out in the dead end room, and flung up his hands.

"Great. Now what?"

Cael managed a sick smile.

"Trust me." He limped to the portal, and gently placed his hand against it. He could have kissed it when he felt the skitter lance up his arm, and saw the white fire.

Ludvik's jaw dropped, and he reached out to catch Cael's hand, looking the faded gray that smeared his arm up to his elbow. "What's happened to you?"

"Doesn't matter," Cael replied, waving at the portal. "What does matter is that goes to Gjovik. Get your wife, get your kids, get as far away from Knife's Edge as you possibly can."

Ludvik took a step toward the portal. "What about you?"

"I...can't go there. I have to go somewhere else so that if-" Not if, really, more when, "-if they check where you went, the portal will send them somewhere else first." He growled at Ludvik's look of incomprehension. "It's just so they won't know for certain where to start!"

"...you're not thinking about doing something stupid, are you?"

Cael shrugged, trying to not look as exhausted and sick as he felt.

"You mean like this whole damn month?"

"Caelric-"

"This conversation is done." He planted his feet, and tried to shove his brother into the portal. Ludvik planted his feet and stayed put. Cael dropped his arms and glared, reaching back to loosen the straps around his naginata. "Ludvik. Go through the portal." He could hear footsteps off up in the distance, and if he could hear them Ludvik could definitely hear them, and yet he still stayed, obstinately. Cael felt his naginata fall into his hand as Ludvik protested.

"I can't let you do that, Cael, Mother would kill-" he was still talking when the butt of the naginata slammed into his chin. Cael didn't stop to stare at what he'd done. He just bent down to shove his brother's inert form through the portal. He told himself not to worry when he stepped back. Gjovik still held church services. Ludvik would be found before he could freeze.

Cael waited, leaning on his naginata, his breath caught in his throat –probably blocked by his heart- for the white light to fade. he could hear the shouts of soldiers getting closer, and the sounds of heavy boots on the stone of the stairs.

It seemed to take forever for the room to go dark again. He had to work in that dark, still seeing spots in his eyes, to find the arch in his trembling fingers, not even thinking about where he would go; just knowing he had to go.

The white light finally sprang back into existence as the door behind him slammed open. He spun on his heel to force a defiant glower at whoever had stepped through the door, feeling a cold rage flickering up the sides of his stomach when he realized it was F’bael.

“Had to go and show up here, ruin everything?” The elf snarled, dried red paint still visible in the roots of his hair. “I could've been good and done with this already. Now I have to hunt down that stupid brother of yours…”

Cael glared. "Leave Ludvik alone."

"Why the seven hells would I do that?" F’bael cocked his head, golden eyes gleaming in the light flickering around the portal’s edges. “You’re a matching set now, worth more t’gether than you are apart…and if he’s as big an idiot as you are, he’s gonna come running back here the moment he realizes what you’ve done."

Possibly he would have, in the past, Cael reflected as he watched the dark elf warily. But in the past, he’d only had him and Cael and the rest of their brothers to worry about. Now, he had his wife and kids and the rest of the fledgling revolution...

If they get to Ludvik…

“Oy, 'bael, catch up with ‘im?” The rough voice echoing down the stairs jolted Cael back to the situation at hand. “I dunno what he did, floor’s been magicked or somethin’…”

“Yeah, I caught up with him,” F’bael yelled back, half-turned to look out the door. Cael’s hands tightened around the naginata shaft, shoulders tensing for the lunge. “You should be able to move again in a minute or two if you just sit tight…”

“Oh yeah? These paper things work on ‘im, then? Gotta few things I’d like to try on him when he can’t move…”

“I think you’ll get your chance then, officer…who knows," The dark elf was leering. Cael somehow knew he was thinking of Damyan again, and it only added to the cold anger gathering in his gut. "He might even like it. How about it, Caelri-” F’bael was in the process of turning, grinning like the cat who’d just eaten the canary – until Cael sprang, driving the blade of the naginata up and through his throat.

The dark elf’s eyes went wide as his knees gave out, hands closing on the naginata’s shaft. He twisted and writhed, breath catching and bubbling painfully, thickly. Cael had to keep his eyes squeezed shut tight just to keep his grip on the polearm’s shaft, just to force himself to finish the deed, just to convince himself he wasn’t making a horrible mistake.

The door smashed back open and Cael steeled himself - catching half-impressions of the ongoing rush of soldiers from the corner of his eyes - before forcing himself to reach out and grab F’bael’s shirt, pulling his twitching form into the portal. The elf was only halfway through when the white fire burned through in a raging, heatless inferno, taking them somewhere else entirely.

[Inkfinger]

When reality reasserted itself - solid beneath his boots – and he could see again, Cael fell to his knees, driving the naginata, blade-down, into the packed snow as hard as he could manage.

The long blade pinned the elf’s bloodied corpse to the ground before Cael went down on his hands, hard, breath stolen again by the cold and the sheer enormity of what he'd just done.

Only half of the elf was even there anymore. He was just gone from the waist down, and the smell rising from the stained and steaming snow was too much for Cael to bear.

He heaved in a single wracking breath and vomited into the snow, feeling his eyes burning and his stomach lurching painfully. The adrenaline had left as swiftly as it had come, leaving him shivering on his hands and knees in the snow, feeling the cold seeping through his trousers and sinking into his sore muscles.

He’d done it.

He’d got Ludvik away, and he’d even got himself out in the process.

He’d…

He'd killed…

No. Everything is going to be okay now as long as I don’t think about F’bael, he’d just need a minute or two don’t think and then he could find Kamen, pick the fiefdom closest to the border don't think and…

He flopped onto his back, letting go of the naginata and closing his eyes. The ground was lumpy, hard, cold and uncomfortable, but he was alone. He was free. He didn't have to think about another trek through cities that he didn't understand, he wouldn't have to think of another lie, or more people dying on his account. Wouldn't have to think-

He heard the crunch of snow simultaneously with the sudden press of cold steel beneath his jaw; a stinging prick that drew a thin line of blood, hot against his skin. He went limp on the ground, letting his hands fall open - no threat, not armed - but feeling no real emotions. He was too drained for that - possibly too drained to feel anything else, ever again.

It was only then that it really processed that since he had meant to go to Heivernok, he was probably...

His eyes cracked open to give him a glimpse of the twisted framework of a stained glass window. The rubble pressing against his back had used to be the Heivernok church; now dismantled into soulless wood and stone and glass, all covered with a single night's dusting of snow.

He raised his eyes reluctantly - it was as if he was in a moment between moments, and acknowledging what he knew had happened would make it real - to see the circle of soldiers standing over him. Dark, emotionless eyes met his own, above a mouth with teeth bared in a dead smile that made the temperature drop another ninety degrees. He abruptly felt the terror creeping back into that empty space where his emotions belonged as he cringed against the twisted remains of the church.

"Caelric Stranddsen," The soldier's voice was as cold and dead as his smile and his eyes. "You are under arrest."

[Inkfinger]

The only time he saw real light following that was when they dragged him out of his cell a week after what they called – mostly in jesting, jeering tones - his trial.

It was to make him watch them hang Kamen.

They had an execution chamber down here. Cael couldn't even put into words how wrong that seemed - in a church? He'd grown up in Salvar, spent his adolescence in Knife's Edge, he knew the stories as well as any man. Better, in all likelihood, since he'd helped spread them. But, once again, truth was worse than fiction.

The younger man – his clothes in tatters, his face smudged with dirt and dried blood - didn’t even look his way as they led him beneath the makeshift gallows. There was no crowd, just him, Cael, and four soldiers – two leading him, two guarding Cael.

Cael rather thought the guards were overkill. He was already in chains. He hadn’t slept more than three hours at a time in a month and a half now, and he hadn’t eaten a decent meal in longer than that.

What do they think I’m going to do, overcome them with the power of my mind?

"You’re going to watch, right," one of the guards at his elbow said, smiling amiably when Cael turned to look at him. "Or we," he jerked his thumb at his fellow, smile sliding into something more sinister. "We got the authority to carve your eyelids off. How’s that?"

"I’m going to watch," Cael managed to reply, voice low and subdued, already going hoarse from disuse. "If only because he deserves to know that someone knows he died for them…"

And if only so I can have another reason to hate you fucking bastards.

The soldier who hadn’t spoke yet spat in the dirt, full attention on the gallows. The one who had been doing all the speaking rolled his eyes, flopping down on the scaffolding’s stairs in a jangle of sword-belt and keys.

"Noble, aren’t ya? I bet ya five grace he don’t last a full minute."

Neither he nor Cael got a chance to tell, because Cael launched himself at him the moment he heard the trapdoor release, barreling him over in a lucky strike - the guard hadn't been expecting it any more than Cael had. He sank his teeth into the guard's shoulder and clamped down hard, until he could taste blood on his teeth and the sound of yelling blocked out the sounds of the rope and Kamen's gasping.

He didn't have to listen anymore when a sword hilt smacked his temple and everything went black.

[Inkfinger]

some time later...

He didn’t really even remember why he was here anymore. He just knew that he was. He was here and he wasn’t supposed to be and everything, as usual, had gone horribly wrong.

There were checkmarks on the wall – forty? Maybe fifty? He hadn’t counted them in a while, he couldn’t remember – but even they were useless. There wasn’t an outside light to judge time by: only a torch burning in a sconce set into the wall on the other side of the hall, and sometimes even that went out for what felt like weeks on end.

He sat in the corner on his bare heels, back pressed against the wall, and stared at the dingy floor, scratched and bruised fingers pressed to his mouth. The intricate network of symbols he had scraped into dust stared back at him, accusingly. It was right, he knew it was right, but something was missing - something big was missing and it was making his skin twitch and crawl beneath the layer of grime and blood.

His tongue found one of the old cuts on his hand, and he worried at it with his teeth without thinking of what he was doing, the tiny sting nothing compared to the dull ache just barely beginning to fade in his back and his legs, weeks-old whip scores and burn marks and marks that he couldn't even remember what had made them.

The chain around his ankle jangled when he moved, jarring and loud, but he was so used to it by now that he didn’t even react.

He just stared at the symbols unblinkingly, trying to figure out what wasn't there so that his skin would stop crawling and maybe he could sleep without adding another scratch to the wall.

He had the sinking suspicion - just like the day before, and the day before that, and possibly even the day before that - that it wasn't going to happen.

To be continued.

...to find that memory prick your thumbs -
You'll tell them where we run to hide,
I'm already dead; it's a matter of time...
Afraid of Sunlight - Marillion

Never missing a deadline again. Ow, my hands hurt. Typing this whole thing in such a short time felt like nano all over again, and it's not as polished as I had hoped, but hey! It's got the plot I wanted done in chapter two done and I have learned a powerful lesson about the evils of procrastination that I will inevitably ignore! Go me!

"Spoils."
-Belongings: Cael loses his personal freedom, and ownership of his personal belongings. Nothing is destroyed –as a matter of fact, most of it is in the cathedral, quite near where he’s being held prisoner - but he can’t get to it. Yet.
+Portal Magic: Close proximity with Ulric’s amulet over the month of travel - and its subsequent merging with his person - coupled with his extensive use of the portal networks in that month has let him pick up a passive knowledge of the Salvic portal network: he can influence which portal he will emerge from once he’s actually started the process of traveling, and he can activate the portals without needing an amulet, despite him not being a portal-mage. This skill is more or less confined to being useful only in Salvar, though the portals in Haidia may react similarly.

[Taskmienster]

Byzantine

Hey there! Sorry for the delay, though I’d like to say that I did forget claiming it and the tournament has been eating up a lot of my time. I will be getting this up ASAP though. Lol. And just as you requested, something between bare bones and too much… we’ll see how that goes. I tend to make a lot of notes as I go.

STORY (18/30)

~ Continuity ~ 6

~The backstory that you gave was well done, I got a good feel as to who you were and as it progressed, why you were there. However, what I didn’t get was how you got there. How did Cael get involved in the smuggling of food aide? I got that your brother and the mage you knew were helping out, which would be reason enough, but didn’t see it fully expounded upon.

~ Setting ~ 6

~From post to post the setting was consistent and well done. Though Salvar is pretty easy to get annoyingly bogged down in snow and wind, you did a good job of not being absorbed in a repetitious way of explaining where you were and how it looked. My only suggestion is to use it a bit more, like you did in a few posts of note. The opening post, with the ink being frozen over and blowing about the notes, that was well done. Things like that help, and ‘using’ the setting doesn’t always mean picking something up to fight with it, and can indeed be used in such a way as just to be interacting with it (or in this case it interacting with you).

~ Pacing ~ 6

~See First comment in Action.

~There were a couple times when it felt a little more rushed then it needed to be. The death of your drow friend-turned-traitor towards the end was somewhat sudden. So was falling through the portal and being caught by the guards. Slow down a little bit around the points that have combat or advance the plot in a bad way and you’ll be completely set. All in all the pacing was not bad though, the story flowed a bit slow on its own, since it was mostly just delivering foodstuffs and trying to worry about who the ‘plague rat’ was in the group. But still well done…


CHARACTER (21/30)

~ Dialogue ~ 8

~Everything was well done, realistic, and not overly done or cliché. Nothing really to note here, as you seem to have a very firm grasp on dialogue and the way it reflected in the characters.

~ Action~ 6

~In the 4th post you had a very sudden, seemingly rushed encounter with the soldiers of the Church. I had to read over it a second time to get the feel for what was happening. A little elaboration that would have helped out a lot, since it was sudden and made the pace go from slow to INSTANT. Haha.

~Oh my! Intrigue with the portal keepers! I loved the 6th post because it made me wonder, pulled me to the edge of my seat, so to speak. Wonderfully done without overly being done, or the information about the portals instantly being known. It also set up a very good side story, of sorts, that made me wonder what would happen next. The clerk’s notes, the disregard by his superiors, and the one sent to check it out without any real haste… very well done.

~ Persona ~ 7

~Only comment is that you showed a lot more than helped the reader ‘feel’ the characters out. Things that stood out were why was the drow turning on the group? Was he getting a really good pay out of it? I remember seeing maybe once or twice something about being paid, but nothing specific. Other than that the way you showed the characters was well done, and you have a good hold in your mind as you write to keep them consistent. A little bit more background for them, at least in the scope of how they relate to the quest, would do well to make this better as well.



WRITING STYLE (21/30)

~ Technique ~ 6

~It’s probably just the way you write, but it feels that hyphens are a bit overused. I counted about 20 in the second post alone. Other than that you tend to throw in advanced techniques at times, but not enough to really note. Try and spice up the writing and you’ll get the reader’s interest without question. I will not the multiple times you used foreshadowing, and how well it was done. I liked it, and would like to note that not a lot of people use it, and it is a relatively easy technique to use that sometimes gets passed over or missed by the reader. My only suggestion is to maybe disguise it a little more in the thread, so that it’s not BLUNTLY and explicitly punching the reader in the fact. Don’t feel bad about writing it out so that the reader questions what or who is doing what… because if it’s clarified later on it is fine as long as it’s not hard to follow and makes people unable to understand that it is, indeed, a fully thought out post. Not sure if I explained that correctly or not, if you don’t understand feel free to PM or IM me and I’ll help you out.

~ Mechanics ~ 7

~Just a few scattered spelling mistakes, or missed punctuation. Nothing major, as some of them were mistaken words that were easy to mess up and things that Word wouldn’t catch. Such as typing in ‘foot’ instead of ‘food’, things like that. I didn’t note all of them, for the sake of keeping this closer to the size that you requested, but did note things below that stood out aside from the spelling.

~ Clarity ~ 8

~Other than the note I made in actions regarding pacing, it was all clear and easy to follow. The note I made in technique regarding hyphens made it a little bit hard to read at times, but all in all it was pretty good.


WILD CARD!!! 7

General Notes

~ “He stood on the stoop for a moment, willing some of the feeling back into his toes, watching the snow drift across the broad, smooth street.” [2]~ You went from getting the ‘feeling back into his toes’ right into ‘watching’. It’d be fine, except for the small fact that you did it without a period or some notification that you were changing the subject of the sentence entirely. Something, either a period to separate the two different trains, or something before waiting will help with that.

~ “…they wouldn't be needed when the only patrons weren't supposed to be there in the first place.” [2]~ A confusion in text, since you are the only one there. I think it’s supposed to be ‘the only [patron wasn’t]’

~ “the beasts needed fed” [8]~ beast needed [food or feed].

TOTAL

(67/100)


GAINS/REWARDS!

Inkfinger receives 2400 exp; 425 gold

Due to the fact that we are ‘between chapters’ for the FQ, because it ended November, the exp and gp are not doubled. However, I did add a little extra to the gold for your troubles and because I really liked the quest. Good luck in future endeavors.

Exp doubled due to the FQ

[Taskmienster]

Exp and GP added.

Someone needs to close this for me as well.